Euphoria
Euphoria;
Baekhyun/Chanyeol
PG-13
~1,980 words
Warnings: drugs, death
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
eu•pho•ri•a [yoo-fawr-ee-uh]
n.
- a state of intense happiness
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
He'd hesitated, inwardly debated; worried his lower lip. There was harm in it; it was medically proven, medically tested -- people have died over it.
Just this once.
But it was only once, and those rich teeth whites, paired with that smile, were glaring, blinding him until he could see nothing but that curve of happiness, and worries began to be torn down, brushed off. Just this once, right?
What harm can it be?
Surely nothing, it was just this once, and he had never felt such happiness in his entire life. He was laughing, they were all laughing, giggles bubbling up his throat as they put the rolled up piece of paper in his hands, and he stares at it, then down at the strip of white powder, still laughing, yet the mingling doubts begin to reappear. His smile begins to falter.
Come on!
A warm hand ruffles his hair, and that beautiful smile is blinding him again, effortlessly tearing down his reserves and fears, and his resolve strengthens anew. Together, he silently beseeches with his gaze, and he understands, he always understands, because that smile is forever present as they bent their heads together.
Inhale. Inhale.
Fireworks explode; starbursts of rainbow colours sparkle in front of his eyes, blinding him with their dazzling display. His heart is beating so fast, the pounding in his ears so deafening he could barely hear the laughter all around him, but still he laughs, because everything seems so hilarious. His lungs could barely contain the bubbles of laughter, and he struggles to breathe, and his heart struggles to keep up, but he felt no pain, no panic.
Because he was there, and he was also laughing, and they were both happy. Time seemed to stop, their existence centred on this one moment of happiness.
--
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
It was already the second, or perhaps the third, but what harm could it be? Numbers are irrelevant when his world was overflowing with so much happiness. The adrenaline is pumping in his veins, his heart going on overdrive as he raced up the hill, trying to catch up with that blinding white smile as it glinted in the setting sun.
Wait for me! He yells, but the figure gets further away, its laughter trailing behind it, echoing with the brushes of the wind against his cheeks. He runs faster, still laughing, because he knew that he would wait, because he always does.
The figure stops just on top of the hill, and with a last burst of energy he topples it to the ground, and they roll together halfway down, gasping with breathless laughter and giggling helplessly.
"I'm happy -- so happy."
Me too, he wants to say, but his reply is swallowed by the warm lips pressing against his, and all replies are forgotten and discarded as a tongue slips inside. His heart is beating rapidly again, but for entirely different reasons, and they moan and groan in that beautiful green meadow, the setting sun highlighting the brown tendrils tangled in his fingers.
His heart is beating so loudly he felt like he was going to die, but he was so happy it didn't seem to matter. His vision is blurry, and he puts it down to tears as he stares at those midnight orbs.
"I love you. Chanyeol. I love you."
--
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
It was the twentieth. Or perhaps, the twenty-fifth. Twenty-sixth. Thirtieth. Fiftieth.
The number ceases to matter; the bridge between time and space seems blurred, and he is permanently trapped, alone, in a black hole between fantasy and reality. His head hurts, the pounding headache deafening, and he struggles to inhale a breath; his lungs are unwilling to cooperate, and he shivers and shudders, trying to control the chills that seem to come from within his very soul.
A hand strokes a path from his hair and down to his cheek; he tries to garner comfort from it, but it is not the same warm hand that had stroked him countless times, it was cold, clammy and damp.
He wants to push it away, wants to cease contact, but he does not, could not. It was the only physical thing keeping him in reality, and he finds himself cupping the cold hand with his own shaking ones, clutching it to his cheek, as if trying to provide heat to it, but how was that possible, when his own skin was as cold as ice?
--
"It was only once."
It's the truth; he swears it is, repeating the statement over and over again like a mantra, as if the repetition could somehow drown out the screams in his head that accused him of lying. It's the truth, it was only once, perhaps once too many, but it was only once. He swears it is.
They are shaking their heads at him, faces closed off, expressions forbidding. He shuts his eyes, refusing to look at their faces of disappointment, worry, anxiety, anger. It was only once, they had to believe him. They were supposed to be his friends.
It was only once; he waves his hands frantically, grasping at cold, unforgiving air, gulping in breaths like that of a drowning man. Warmth suddenly envelopes him, and grasps at the body as if it was a lifesaver, saving him from the pool of his own fears.
He is being shushed, and his nostrils are filled with the scent of vanilla and butter, a scent that belonged solely to someone he was very fond of.
Kyungsoo. It was only once.
Shh. Shh, Baekhyun.
But Kyungsoo is gently telling him to be quiet, and a handkerchief is being passed across his cheeks; was he crying? It didn't matter; he cuddles closer, absorbing the gentle heat in vain hope that it would chase the chills away.
--
He's been clean for three months now, three months of excruciating pain and agony. Every day he felt like he was just an inch away from drowning, as if he were trapped in the middle of the ocean with no hope of survival, the water continuously trying to pull him inside its deadly depths.
If I could only have one more, because it was only once...
Contradictions and paradoxes were quickly torn down by friends that proved to be real friends; all of them stayed by his side, encouraging and supporting him every step of the way.
Yet his fear was not only for himself; it was also for that smile that he hadn't seen for months.
"Where's Chanyeol?"
His weak heart begins to beat frantically at the awkward looks exchanged between the four boys in front of him. The silence is nearly deafening, and he repeats the question, his tone rising by an octave. Kyungsoo hushes him, clutching his hand in an attempt to soothe.
"Hush, Baekhyun."
But where's Chanyeol, he asks again, but he is terrified and frightened and he fears the answer. Kyungsoo sends a silent Jongin behind him a beseeching look, and Jongin, in turn, looks at Sehun and Joonmyun.
Joonmyun clears his throat, because as the eldest, he felt the weight of responsibility. Staring at the pale figure on the bed, with its sunken cheeks and dark circles, he felt a lump in his throat.
"...He's not well, Baekhyun. Chanyeol's not well."
--
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
But that was over six months ago, and it had all been lies. The fantasy was gone, replaced by the harsh reality the doctors call withdrawal symptoms. The laughter was gone, replaced by bone-deep chills, pounding headaches and nosebleeds.
But a part of Baekhyun refused to believe that the happiness had also been swept away, crushed to pieces by the "addiction". Besides, even broken things could be pieced together again, right?
He wraps his arms around the thin frame, and presses a kiss on one gaunt cheek. A weak smile emerges, but it's not the same beautiful brilliance; nothing is the same, from the midnight orbs clouded with pain and dry, wrinkled skin that should belong to someone of advanced age rather than a male barely on the beginning of his prime.
"He's been...using, a lot more than you have."
Kyungsoo's explanation echoes in his mind, and he tightens his embrace, forcing a weak smile of his own. The breeze feels nice from their seat on the bench from the rooftop, and sky is blue; the day, beautiful.
"It hurts, Baekhyun."
Baekhyun's embrace falters, because he knew what that statement meant. The therapy wasn't working, he'd heard the nurses murmuring just outside Room 206, and doctors were always shaking their heads when it came to a certain patient named Park Chanyeol. He was getting worse, they tell each other in low, muted tones, but to Baekhyun it felt deafening.
"Just a little bit more. You can do this." Yet his words of encouragement fall flat, a reflection of his own insecurities and doubts, and Chanyeol knows this.
"I just..." Those cracked lips, once plump and red, stretched out into a real, genuine smile, and for a moment the cloud of pain lifted from those empty midnight orbs, and for a moment he was seeing the Chanyeol he once knew.
"I wanted to fly. Just this once."
Even broken things could be pieced together again, but one would always see the cracks.
--
Just this once. What harm can it be?
I'm just going to visit Chanyeol, he says, and he embraces Kyungsoo before he leaves. A surprised Jongin gives him a feeble pat on the back when he does the same to him, and he ruffles Sehun's hair. His fragile mask nearly breaks when he faces Joonmyun, but he manages to keep his smile intact, tears in check as he also embraces his friend, who chuckles and tells him to take care and could he say hello to Chanyeol for them? He must have nodded, and soon, he was on his way.
The weather was beautiful as always, the sun beaming happily and enveloping him with a warm embrace. He closes his eyes and savours it a while, feeling the wind caress his cheeks, the muffled sounds of the city on his ears.
Warm hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes to those rich teeth whites, paired with that smile, and they were glaring, blinding under the sunlight until he could see nothing but that curve of happiness. He finds himself smiling too, and they laugh breathlessly together, and lips press against each other.
Fireworks explode; starbursts of rainbow colours sparkle in front of his eyes, blinding him with their dazzling display. There they were, on the border between fantasy and reality, but he wasn't alone anymore -- Chanyeol was with him.
"I want to fly. Just this once."
He begins to laugh, giggles bubbling in his throat, and he is almost in hysterics, because the laughter suppressed the tears and screams that threatened to burst out, and tears begin to blur his vision, because it blurred the sight of the blood leaking out of Chanyeol's nose. He cups those hollow cheek bones, and presses a final kiss on his lips -- Baekhyun can taste crimson iron, and the end.
His lungs could barely contain the bubbles of laughter, and he struggles to breathe, and his heart struggles to keep up, but he felt no pain, no panic.
Because he was there, and he was also laughing, and they were both happy.
Time stops, their existence solidified around this one moment of happiness.
"Then let's fly."
Together, Chanyeol silently beseeches with his gaze, and he understands, he always understands, because that smile is forever present as they finally let go.
Baekhyun/Chanyeol
PG-13
~1,980 words
Warnings: drugs, death
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
eu•pho•ri•a [yoo-fawr-ee-uh]
n.
- a state of intense happiness
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
He'd hesitated, inwardly debated; worried his lower lip. There was harm in it; it was medically proven, medically tested -- people have died over it.
Just this once.
But it was only once, and those rich teeth whites, paired with that smile, were glaring, blinding him until he could see nothing but that curve of happiness, and worries began to be torn down, brushed off. Just this once, right?
What harm can it be?
Surely nothing, it was just this once, and he had never felt such happiness in his entire life. He was laughing, they were all laughing, giggles bubbling up his throat as they put the rolled up piece of paper in his hands, and he stares at it, then down at the strip of white powder, still laughing, yet the mingling doubts begin to reappear. His smile begins to falter.
Come on!
A warm hand ruffles his hair, and that beautiful smile is blinding him again, effortlessly tearing down his reserves and fears, and his resolve strengthens anew. Together, he silently beseeches with his gaze, and he understands, he always understands, because that smile is forever present as they bent their heads together.
Inhale. Inhale.
Fireworks explode; starbursts of rainbow colours sparkle in front of his eyes, blinding him with their dazzling display. His heart is beating so fast, the pounding in his ears so deafening he could barely hear the laughter all around him, but still he laughs, because everything seems so hilarious. His lungs could barely contain the bubbles of laughter, and he struggles to breathe, and his heart struggles to keep up, but he felt no pain, no panic.
Because he was there, and he was also laughing, and they were both happy. Time seemed to stop, their existence centred on this one moment of happiness.
--
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
It was already the second, or perhaps the third, but what harm could it be? Numbers are irrelevant when his world was overflowing with so much happiness. The adrenaline is pumping in his veins, his heart going on overdrive as he raced up the hill, trying to catch up with that blinding white smile as it glinted in the setting sun.
Wait for me! He yells, but the figure gets further away, its laughter trailing behind it, echoing with the brushes of the wind against his cheeks. He runs faster, still laughing, because he knew that he would wait, because he always does.
The figure stops just on top of the hill, and with a last burst of energy he topples it to the ground, and they roll together halfway down, gasping with breathless laughter and giggling helplessly.
"I'm happy -- so happy."
Me too, he wants to say, but his reply is swallowed by the warm lips pressing against his, and all replies are forgotten and discarded as a tongue slips inside. His heart is beating rapidly again, but for entirely different reasons, and they moan and groan in that beautiful green meadow, the setting sun highlighting the brown tendrils tangled in his fingers.
His heart is beating so loudly he felt like he was going to die, but he was so happy it didn't seem to matter. His vision is blurry, and he puts it down to tears as he stares at those midnight orbs.
"I love you. Chanyeol. I love you."
--
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
It was the twentieth. Or perhaps, the twenty-fifth. Twenty-sixth. Thirtieth. Fiftieth.
The number ceases to matter; the bridge between time and space seems blurred, and he is permanently trapped, alone, in a black hole between fantasy and reality. His head hurts, the pounding headache deafening, and he struggles to inhale a breath; his lungs are unwilling to cooperate, and he shivers and shudders, trying to control the chills that seem to come from within his very soul.
A hand strokes a path from his hair and down to his cheek; he tries to garner comfort from it, but it is not the same warm hand that had stroked him countless times, it was cold, clammy and damp.
He wants to push it away, wants to cease contact, but he does not, could not. It was the only physical thing keeping him in reality, and he finds himself cupping the cold hand with his own shaking ones, clutching it to his cheek, as if trying to provide heat to it, but how was that possible, when his own skin was as cold as ice?
--
"It was only once."
It's the truth; he swears it is, repeating the statement over and over again like a mantra, as if the repetition could somehow drown out the screams in his head that accused him of lying. It's the truth, it was only once, perhaps once too many, but it was only once. He swears it is.
They are shaking their heads at him, faces closed off, expressions forbidding. He shuts his eyes, refusing to look at their faces of disappointment, worry, anxiety, anger. It was only once, they had to believe him. They were supposed to be his friends.
It was only once; he waves his hands frantically, grasping at cold, unforgiving air, gulping in breaths like that of a drowning man. Warmth suddenly envelopes him, and grasps at the body as if it was a lifesaver, saving him from the pool of his own fears.
He is being shushed, and his nostrils are filled with the scent of vanilla and butter, a scent that belonged solely to someone he was very fond of.
Kyungsoo. It was only once.
Shh. Shh, Baekhyun.
But Kyungsoo is gently telling him to be quiet, and a handkerchief is being passed across his cheeks; was he crying? It didn't matter; he cuddles closer, absorbing the gentle heat in vain hope that it would chase the chills away.
--
He's been clean for three months now, three months of excruciating pain and agony. Every day he felt like he was just an inch away from drowning, as if he were trapped in the middle of the ocean with no hope of survival, the water continuously trying to pull him inside its deadly depths.
If I could only have one more, because it was only once...
Contradictions and paradoxes were quickly torn down by friends that proved to be real friends; all of them stayed by his side, encouraging and supporting him every step of the way.
Yet his fear was not only for himself; it was also for that smile that he hadn't seen for months.
"Where's Chanyeol?"
His weak heart begins to beat frantically at the awkward looks exchanged between the four boys in front of him. The silence is nearly deafening, and he repeats the question, his tone rising by an octave. Kyungsoo hushes him, clutching his hand in an attempt to soothe.
"Hush, Baekhyun."
But where's Chanyeol, he asks again, but he is terrified and frightened and he fears the answer. Kyungsoo sends a silent Jongin behind him a beseeching look, and Jongin, in turn, looks at Sehun and Joonmyun.
Joonmyun clears his throat, because as the eldest, he felt the weight of responsibility. Staring at the pale figure on the bed, with its sunken cheeks and dark circles, he felt a lump in his throat.
"...He's not well, Baekhyun. Chanyeol's not well."
--
"Just this once. What harm can it be?"
But that was over six months ago, and it had all been lies. The fantasy was gone, replaced by the harsh reality the doctors call withdrawal symptoms. The laughter was gone, replaced by bone-deep chills, pounding headaches and nosebleeds.
But a part of Baekhyun refused to believe that the happiness had also been swept away, crushed to pieces by the "addiction". Besides, even broken things could be pieced together again, right?
He wraps his arms around the thin frame, and presses a kiss on one gaunt cheek. A weak smile emerges, but it's not the same beautiful brilliance; nothing is the same, from the midnight orbs clouded with pain and dry, wrinkled skin that should belong to someone of advanced age rather than a male barely on the beginning of his prime.
"He's been...using, a lot more than you have."
Kyungsoo's explanation echoes in his mind, and he tightens his embrace, forcing a weak smile of his own. The breeze feels nice from their seat on the bench from the rooftop, and sky is blue; the day, beautiful.
"It hurts, Baekhyun."
Baekhyun's embrace falters, because he knew what that statement meant. The therapy wasn't working, he'd heard the nurses murmuring just outside Room 206, and doctors were always shaking their heads when it came to a certain patient named Park Chanyeol. He was getting worse, they tell each other in low, muted tones, but to Baekhyun it felt deafening.
"Just a little bit more. You can do this." Yet his words of encouragement fall flat, a reflection of his own insecurities and doubts, and Chanyeol knows this.
"I just..." Those cracked lips, once plump and red, stretched out into a real, genuine smile, and for a moment the cloud of pain lifted from those empty midnight orbs, and for a moment he was seeing the Chanyeol he once knew.
"I wanted to fly. Just this once."
Even broken things could be pieced together again, but one would always see the cracks.
--
Just this once. What harm can it be?
I'm just going to visit Chanyeol, he says, and he embraces Kyungsoo before he leaves. A surprised Jongin gives him a feeble pat on the back when he does the same to him, and he ruffles Sehun's hair. His fragile mask nearly breaks when he faces Joonmyun, but he manages to keep his smile intact, tears in check as he also embraces his friend, who chuckles and tells him to take care and could he say hello to Chanyeol for them? He must have nodded, and soon, he was on his way.
The weather was beautiful as always, the sun beaming happily and enveloping him with a warm embrace. He closes his eyes and savours it a while, feeling the wind caress his cheeks, the muffled sounds of the city on his ears.
Warm hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes to those rich teeth whites, paired with that smile, and they were glaring, blinding under the sunlight until he could see nothing but that curve of happiness. He finds himself smiling too, and they laugh breathlessly together, and lips press against each other.
Fireworks explode; starbursts of rainbow colours sparkle in front of his eyes, blinding him with their dazzling display. There they were, on the border between fantasy and reality, but he wasn't alone anymore -- Chanyeol was with him.
"I want to fly. Just this once."
He begins to laugh, giggles bubbling in his throat, and he is almost in hysterics, because the laughter suppressed the tears and screams that threatened to burst out, and tears begin to blur his vision, because it blurred the sight of the blood leaking out of Chanyeol's nose. He cups those hollow cheek bones, and presses a final kiss on his lips -- Baekhyun can taste crimson iron, and the end.
His lungs could barely contain the bubbles of laughter, and he struggles to breathe, and his heart struggles to keep up, but he felt no pain, no panic.
Because he was there, and he was also laughing, and they were both happy.
Time stops, their existence solidified around this one moment of happiness.
"Then let's fly."
Together, Chanyeol silently beseeches with his gaze, and he understands, he always understands, because that smile is forever present as they finally let go.