Before We Go Up in Flames [1/7]
Title: Before We Go Up in Flames
Genre: Angst, Tragedy
Pairings: Chanbaek/Baekyeol
Length: about 48k
Warnings: [[ Violence, blood, a lot of talk about death (Spoiler!) Character Death (I am so sorry) ]]
Synopsis: Being a superhero comes with its own share of victories and losses. Triumphs and sacrifices. Mistakes and consequences. Yet there are some things you can't reverse, despite how many tomorrows you're willing to give up to fix just one yesterday.
Chanyeol is only given a week to do it all over again, although he already knows how it ends.
But that doesn't mean he's okay with that. And he'd give anything he can to change it.
After all, how could you fit the love of a lifetime into just one week?
A/n: This is a mix between something I planned to do a long time ago and part of a plot given by Baekyeol-prompts (prompt #35 - but the prompt is a little bit spoiler-ish, so beware before clicking on that link.) This is an old fic with an old plot and a kinda old writing style that I went ham trying to cover up, so it might seem different and more basic than it should (I hope it doesn’t), but eh. Eh.
I’m actually super nervous about this one because this fic has been my baby for the past couple of months, and I really hope it doesn’t disappoint you ;n; It’s so much different from what I usually post, but I’ve missed writing these things so……… I really hope you don’t hate it lol.
I also sorta messed with Kyungsoo’s power in this a little (read: a lot), so uhh, I guess it includes manipulation of metals as well. Just putting this out there so you’re not confused later.
- LET -
1:17 am.
Rain. The continuous patter on the asphalt clashed with his own rushed steps and harsh pants as he cut through the darkness that bled between the trees like an ominous mist, swallowing everything in sight, consumed by the night. There was nothing but the darkness, aside from the barely visible grey breaths of air escaping his lips and the streets covered with rain sparkling like a sea of glitter, or the occasional flicker of a street lamp lining the trail.
Shards of broken glass from the lamps lay scattered across the cracking, crumbling path, darkened from the droplets of rain that painted fallen autumn leaves to the ground in red and orange harmony, singing their last dying spurts of color before they surrendered to the wind and the cold and returned to the dust. They squished and tore under Chanyeol’s feet as he ran, paying no mind to the nature, no mind to the sounds as he sank further into the night, each of his senses drowned out by the dark, by the wind and the cold, by his heartbeat and his thoughts. A name.
Another shatter. Another shower of hot glass rained down on him, a few shards grazing his cheek. More darkness, less light. It didn’t phase him. The blood streaming down his face, diluted by the rain soaking through his hair didn’t phase him. Keep running.
He ran, with the burn of fear and exhaustion in his throat and the excruciating squeeze of his chest that came along with each deep pant, he ran. Rain seeped into his clothes, his hair, his skin, his soul, tempting to freeze his body down to the core, but the flame burning within him only intensified. He’d overheat if he wasn’t careful. Pools of excess fire gathered in the footsteps he left behind, anger and rage flooded his body, and only the single name in his mind propelled him forward.
Baekhyun. Baekhyun.
He was alone in the darkness, alone with his mind and all the possibilities and what-ifs, and not even the booming thunder and flashes of lightning could interrupt his thoughts. The others had run off in different directions to search for their lost friend, and although Chanyeol was alone, it was only in the silence and the darkness that he could truly come alive. He took a deep breath of the cool night air that smelled of rain and sulfur and looked forward, eyes focused and determined. If he could find any source of this pure light, he’d know Baekhyun was near.
He had no time to waste.
It was then that he saw a streak of light, like an arrow from a familiar bow, in the distance. Hints of shapes moving in the background prompted Chanyeol to shout his name, the cry strangled in his throat by exhaustion and desperation, though he was still much too far for anyone to hear. There was another arrow, and then another, yet Chanyeol could do nothing as worry crept up his throat. He kept his mind focused on the shattering lights. This shouldn't still be happening; something was wrong.
He watched the silhouettes as if they were dancing in the night to a tune too soft to hear, one that flowed like the adrenaline through their veins. And they danced, dodging each tiny knife of rain from heaven and the lightning crackling through the clouds like the intricate webs of a spider's nest, as if Baekhyun was their prey, and sometimes the light would reach down to earth in an attempt to catch him and pull him back up between the lips of the clouds and into the mouth of heaven with a quick, poisonous kiss. As he was, Baekhyun was dancing with Death.
Chanyeol’s anger and determination burned like gasoline, the fire behind him spreading to the trees of the forest despite the heavy rain, but all he could do now was run. He didn't spare a single glance over his shoulder for Jongin, nor did he call to tell them that he had found him, although anything would be faster than this, but Chanyeol was always rather narrow-minded, and Baekhyun was the only thing currently occupying that space. He wished to be a barrier between Baekhyun and his enemies, slipping into the space between them and stealing his hands from his bow, sliding the small, slender fingers into his own as they step in tune to the beat of their own music, rather than this deadly routine much too fast for Baekhyun to keep up with. Stop this. Dance with me instead.
The quick flashes of light arrows from Baekhyun’s bow drove him forward. The fire behind him propelled him forward like unstable rockets from his feet, helping him cut through the foliage faster, making it harder to choke out the name. Baekhyun. Baekhyun, please.
He burst through the trees on the other side of the forest where a small fairground had been built. The night was lit with the colorful lights of Ferris wheels and merry-go-rounds in the distance. In the center stood an outdoor amphitheater, stage lights focused at the center, and just beyond the blinding lights, he could barely make out three shadows fighting in the midst of them.
This was a show, and Baekhyun was the main event.
He ran, begging the gods, if any existed, to make it in time; he ran, despite the fire catching in his lungs and the smoke smothering him; he ran, yet he was still too far, his body too fatigued to even scream as the shortest figure dashed forward and sunk a knife into whom he presumed was Baekhyun’s abdomen. The stadium lights of the auditorium burst. A loud boom of thunder shook the air as showers of hot glass rained upon them. Baekhyun fell to his knees, clutching his side as he gasped in pain, much to Kyungsoo’s delight as the silhouette of a long sword appeared by his side, and he placed the tip of it underneath the bleeding man’s chin.
Chanyeol's steps faltered as he let out a weak, distressed cry, but he couldn't stop, no, faster, faster, please let me make it in time to help you. He was close, but not close enough; close enough to reach into the fading light pulling away from him faster each second, but not close enough to grasp it. Close enough to scream if he could, but not close enough for it to be of any comfort or help. Close enough to see the malevolent twist of Jongdae’s figure no longer in shadow, stalking forward like a cat toward his wounded prey, but not close enough to stop him. Chanyeol stumbled over his feet, nearly falling to the ground, but he quickly composed himself and continued running, his throat burning as he attempted to shout Baekhyun’s name, but the word was caught in his throat, unable to escape his lips. No, no stop it, please-
His sight was blurred by water, the heavy rain between them making it much more difficult to see clearly. He could barely make out the hazy silhouette of Jongdae pushing Kyungsoo away, and then his gloved hand closed around Baekhyun’s throat, holding up his body which glowed brightly in anger, or perhaps fear, his last attempt to make himself seem capable of escape, though the glow faltered, weakened by his wounds, his little feet kicking in the air as he struggled in the tightening grasp, small hands desperately clawing at Jongdae’s own. Chanyeol’s body bristled at the implications that he was just like those dying leaves, giving off one last final burst of energy before crumbling in on himself, and he couldn’t help but want to scream. Don't do it, please not when I'm so close, don't do it. Yet it was sickening to see Baekhyun so helpless, Jongdae so powerful, with that smirk on his face as though he already knew he had won.
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of lightning that directly struck Baekhyun, light engulfing his body, throwing Chanyeol to the floor as Baekhyun’s scream was swallowed by the thunder. As the rumble shook the ground beneath Chanyeol’s feet, he turned his head away to shield his eyes from the light, squeezing them closed, and he hated himself, he hated that he was looking away, and he hated that he couldn’t save him, and he hated that he was just meters away, and if he was faster he could’ve reached him-
The burst of electricity dissipated, leaving Baekhyun’s light burned out, his body no longer shining with that indignant glow of his; rather, smoke rose to the clouds from where he was held, like a sacrifice to the heavens.
Jongdae released his grasp on his throat, and Baekhyun fell gracelessly to the floor, crumbled in a lifeless, smoking heap of burned limbs and scorched hair. Kyungsoo joined his partner’s side and they stood above him triumphantly, another flash of lightning illuminating their faces along with the echoing sound of thunder in the distance as the remaining electricity buzzing through Baekhyun’s system faded out into silence.
Kyungsoo stepped forward and gave a kick to the boy's side, but he rolled over like a rag doll at their dispense. He didn't get up and kick them back - he didn't even give a groan of pain. He simply remained unmoving on the floor. The thunder melded together with their voices in a loud celebratory laugh.
There was a broken screech that tore through the night.
“Baekhyun!”
The two menaces looked up. At the sight of Chanyeol, they hurriedly stumbled back, as though deciding whether taking down Baekhyun was an accomplishment that inflated their ego enough to where they were confident to tag team Chanyeol as well, although Chanyeol would have rushed head first into the danger and probably lit the world on fire so no one would escape his wrath. But the two backed away, knowing if Chanyeol was here, others would be coming soon, so they ran into the shadows, leaving Baekhyun on the floor as they escaped from the scene.
However, the only thing in Chanyeol’s mind was Baekhyun. He coughed and stumbled over his steps as he approached the stage, unable to control his power as everything behind him surrendered to the flames, but Chanyeol paid it no mind, screaming as much as his throat would allow, cracking through the wood of the auditorium steps as he made his way up to the stage where his partner lay motionless on the floor. The flame in his soul automatically extinguished at the sight.
Everything seemed to pause - the rain, the thunder, the crackling of the fires, the urgency - as his eyes rest upon Baekhyun, lying like the fallen prey of a heartless hunter. He wanted to run, yet he managed no more than a drunken stagger as he hobbled toward him, his legs wobbling in protest, in disbelief, but no dammit, this couldn’t be… he couldn’t be... He fell to his knees as his heart shattered like the glass shards of the lights that lay in fragments across the floor. The air was forced out of his lungs like something foreign was twisting in his chest, winding his breath around its fingers like a long silk scarf, then choking him with it. He couldn’t breathe. He was burning, he was freezing, he was crying, and screaming, and losing control, and it was all tearing him apart because he wasn't there when his best friend needed him. His partner needed him. His husband needed him.
He didn’t take a glance back from his husband on the floor to the shady figures escaping into the clouds of darkness in the distance, though a small corner of his mind was fighting between his priorities. Kyungsoo and Jongdae, but Baekhyun - they’re escaping, he has to stop them, but Baekhyun...
Panting, he quickly crawled forward to Baekhyun’s side, vision hazy and blurred by tears, and he wished he could pretend these were the fuzzy edges of a dream cloud, like this was a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. He pulled the small man’s body toward him, turning him onto his back. In his haste, he quickly tugged the knife from his side with a cry and threw it behind him, staring down at his bleeding husband in silent distress. He hadn't brought anything to help heal the wound. He didn't know he'd need anything. He didn't know Baekhyun would be...
“Ch… yeol…” The soft voice of Sehun finally approaching with Jongin was no relief to his ears. Chanyeol’s eyes remained fixed on the deep wound in his husband’s side, and he continued to scan over the extent of the physical scratches and bruises raking across his skin, yet he was comforted, if anything, by the pained scrunch of Baekhyun’s face and the shallow breaths escaping his barely parted lips. He wanted silence. He wanted to be alone.
“Jongin, Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol shouted, waving his hand hysterically in the direction the two fiends ran off in, and Jongin took one last quick look to the couple before disappearing, leaving behind only a few wisps of black smoke.
Chanyeol sank further into the night, drawn out only by Sehun’s hand on his shoulder. “Yixing is on his way,” he whispered, and Chanyeol gave no response aside from a slow nod. Sehun softly squeezed his shoulder, unable to offer any more comfort, before letting go and taking a few steps back to give them privacy.
Chanyeol couldn’t tell how long it had been - how long he’d been sitting here with Baekhyun, so close yet so far away, how long he’d been cursing at himself, how long he’d been silently staring at his wounds, how long he’d been holding back tears. “What did they do to you?” Chanyeol whispered, running his fingers down his husband’s pale, cold skin, hard under his fingertips. He dragged his thumb slowly across Baekhyun’s bottom lip, barely parted to take in short breaths of air, and he watched the smallest movement of his chest, each breath more difficult to take in than the last.
Baekhyun’s eyes barely cracked open into little scrunched slits.
“Yeol…?”
The crack of his voice was like the faint haze of a rainbow after a night of heavy rain. He slipped his hand into Baekhyun’s and gave it a comforting squeeze. He nearly bit his tongue as he stumbled over his words, like he had an important speech and only a second to deliver it. “Yes Baekhyun, I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here.”
He held on tighter to Baekhyun’s pale hand as the pained wrinkles in Baekhyun’s forehead deepened, and Chanyeol took a single hand away from his face to smooth them out. Baekhyun was hanging on to him like Chanyeol was holding on to him, and neither of them could let go, lest they lose the other forever. Chanyeol’s hand tightened around Baekhyun’s small fingers. He won’t. He won’t let him go.
“It's okay, Baekhyun, it's going to be okay.” But the stress in his trembling fingers didn't say that, the fear in his eyes didn't say that, and he knew neither of their hearts believed that, not even Baekhyun’s with its slow, difficult beats, determined to pound on.
He watched Baekhyun's eyes slowly close.
“They're gone, Chanyeol,” Jongin reported back, but Chanyeol didn’t respond, too lost in his own world holding onto Baekhyun’s small hands, rubbing his thumb across his thin fingers as he stared down at his husband’s face. He slowly closed his eyes and bowed his head down to Baekhyun’s chest before he let out a heavy, shaky breath. Chanyeol had never been the type to show weakness in front of anyone, yet as his shoulders began to shake with his silent sobs, everyone else seemed to vanish in the night.
Sehun couldn't stand to watch. Chanyeol heard him pull Jongin away and the faintest sounds of them arguing in the background amidst the echoing thunder.
“Go look for them.” “I already did; they’re nowhere near the area.” “Well look harder.” “I’d have found them by now if I fucking could, okay?”
The sounds of sirens blaring in the distance cut into their argument, yet Chanyeol still couldn't look up. An ambulance followed by a few fire trucks made its way in front of the stage. The backdoors opened, a team of people rushed out with a gurney, and suddenly Chanyeol couldn't hear himself think anymore as everything was lost in hasty shouts of commands and orders, until he heard the familiar, calm tone of Yixing’s voice. “Bring me Baekhyun.”
Chanyeol finally glanced up to the men surrounding his husband, and he looked absolutely miserable - the rain plastered his hair to his forehead, and his eyes were red and puffy, eyebrows drawn together in distress.
“Tell me he’s okay; tell me he’ll be okay,” he pleaded as they tried to pry Chanyeol away from his husband.
“Sir, you have to let go.”
“No, please,” Chanyeol cried, only holding onto Baekhyun’s small hand tighter as the medical team lifted him onto the gurney. Sehun pulled him up from his knees and tried to hold him back from hindering the medical team from doing their job. “Please don’t take him from me, don’t,” he begged, trying to pull himself away from Sehun as the men in those baggy uniforms began rushing the gurney back toward the van. “Let me go with you - I don’t want to let go, no, don’t!” he screamed as Baekhyun’s hand slipped out from between his fingers and hung lifelessly by his side. “Baekhyun!”
Yixing stood against the back of the white ambulance van, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold with a lifeless look in his eyes as Chanyeol struggled against his friend.
“Stop it, stop!” Chanyeol shouted, thrashing like a child in Sehun’s arms, and the younger was barely able to hold him back before he tried to burn down the ambulance van in frustration. But the flame in Chanyeol’s body had reignited as he screamed, and fire escaped his lips in pillars of orange flame as he wailed his sorrows into the night, his body arching in Sehun’s arms as he screamed fire up to the heavens and tears of agony streamed down his face, met back only by the boom of thunder and solemn shower of rain.
Yixing could barely tear his eyes away to halt the medical team with a raise of his hand. He hopped down from the back of the van and approached Baekhyun, placing his fingers carefully over different spots of his body as if searching for a pulse or any flicker of light left in his soul, looking for wounds to heal and finding too many, looking for the soft, labored rise and fall of his chest that gave the illusion of him still having a chance, no matter how thin, how small, how weak.
“No - No! Let go of me!” Chanyeol shouted in the background, his injured throat making his voice deeper and raspier, like a roar from a lion who had lost his queen. He tugged an arm away from Sehun as Yixing stepped away from Baekhyun and glanced over his shoulder at Chanyeol, still struggling to see his husband once more before the medical team piled into the back of the van. “Let me go, Sehun, let go! Let me see him, Yixing, let me in! Don’t take him away from me, stop!”
Yixing closed his eyes with a heavy sigh before climbing up the back of the van. Chanyeol’s resistant flame slowly died out, giving a final weak scream of his husband's name as he struggled in Sehun’s arms, trying to get one last good look into the ambulance as the doors closed. And then they were left alone once again as the sirens of the ambulance and the firetrucks disappeared into the night.
“Baek…” The name escaped on a cool wisp of air as Chanyeol sagged in Sehun’s grasp, the noise and pandemonium fading back to the eerie silence of the rainy night, where even the light from the moon couldn’t shine through the thick clouds outlined with death and despair. Shrouded in the darkness, Chanyeol stood frozen in Sehun’s arms, in the silence, except for the rhythmic patter of raindrops on the ground and the soft pants of warm air escaping Chanyeol’s lips like ghosts in the night making their slow ascent up to heaven.
It rained again on the day of the funeral.
Standing outside under his own little black umbrella, Chanyeol stood frozen like a scene in a black and white sketch, charcoal smudged across the entire picture by the artist’s palm. It was all a blur, a haze, as he stared straight ahead through the sheets of rain, thinking about nothing, feeling nothing, from the rain droplets splashing on his black, Italian shoes, to the cold wind beating against his Armani suit. His umbrella remained loose in his grip as they all stood in silence, the world stood in silence, mourning. Everything around him seemed to stand still with time and faded into the grey of the background like a sheet draped over the world.
His eyes slowly rose to the sky, echoing the rest of the world with an eerie, gloomy grey that swallowed up the sunlight and the green of the trees as the clouds gathered in dense patches of cotton as though they were mocking him - mocking him because his light was gone. Baekhyun was his everything, the cleanest breaths of air in his lungs, the melody to his harmony, the brightest spark to his eternal flame, but what was a flame without a spark? What was a song without half of its notes? How was he supposed to survive when he was incomplete with half of his heart missing?
Chanyeol took in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
The biting silence nipped at his ears until the sound of the rain pattering against his umbrella slowly returned in unfulfilling white noise and the cold chill of the autumn wind slithered down his spine. No one truly liked funerals, but Chanyeol especially hated them. He hated the way all the dull colors combined into dark, ugly blobs of greys, browns, and blacks, and he was in the center of it all, about to burst into flame. He hated that all of the people wearing bright, festive colors on their wedding, screaming blessings and applause were now standing around him, their faces pale and solemn, holding back tears or wailing into their loved ones’ chests. They were wearing black. They were all wearing black.
Even Baekhyun, who had looked so beautiful in his white tuxedo on their wedding day, glowing brighter than ever in excitement and rare embarrassment, his bashful side slowly taking over as he hid against Chanyeol’s side, was now wearing black. Silent. Dimmed. There wasn’t a smile on his soft, pink lips, nor was there a sparkle in his eternally closed eyes.
It was terrifying. This wasn’t Baekhyun. It was everything that his light wasn’t.
His body looked just as frail as it had been days ago, when Chanyeol was sitting by his bedside in the hospital, holding his small hand once again as if it could give him any comfort. His own hands trembled around Baekhyun’s fragile fingers as cold as porcelain, as the fear of losing him buzzed through his veins, and he was so worried that if he let them go, perhaps they would fall to the floor and shatter, and Chanyeol’s heart would do the same.
Yixing had stood by his side for minutes in that stark white doctor’s outfit with his hand placed on his shoulder. Neither of them said anything; just the silent ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything’ hung in the air between them before Chanyeol softly asked to be alone. And as the door closed behind Yixing, Chanyeol slowly curled over Baekhyun’s body, silently sobbing into the white hospital sheets, before falling asleep at his husband’s side one last time.
Now he was here again, standing over his coffin, wishing to be alone.
When we promised ‘til death do us part,’ I thought it implied we’d be together forever. Not that Death would sweep you off your feet before I even had a chance to love each and every part of you fully.
Perhaps if he had known there would be a last time so soon, he would have spent every moment awake with him, fawning over him, loving him, and every moment asleep next to him, holding him, dreaming about him. As he stared into the open coffin, Chanyeol’s eyes were distracted by the curling petals of red roses framing Baekhyun’s small face, only accentuating how pale his own skin was against the white linen. Baekhyun never truly liked roses, so instead, Chanyeol brushed them away before lying down four white lilies on top of his chest to immortalize their beauty along with Baekhyun’s before they were lowered into the ground.
Chanyeol hated this. He hated how this cold, hard frown looked so out of place on Baekhyun's face, how sickening the lack of a pink blush across his cheeks was, the way his eyelashes solemnly fanned across the apples of his cheeks, and Chanyeol had to clench his jaw and his fists, his blunt nails digging into his palm, to ground himself and choke back emotions crawling their way up his throat.
As his eyes graced over the sleeping figure once more, he focused on each of Baekhyun’s flawless features that he knew as well as the back of his hand or the promises they had scrawled across their hearts, from each strand of his blonde hair and the brown peeking through at his roots, to the mole above his lip that he had kissed more times than he could count. As he stood in the rain, he recalled memories that he had associated with each of them, like the kiss he pressed to Baekhyun’s little button nose on their wedding day as they danced under the stars, and the way he got so lost in Baekhyun’s eyes and how they sparkled when he slipped his wedding ring onto his thin finger. He recalled the way Baekhyun stood on the tips of his toes, nearly jumping into Chanyeol’s arms as they shared their first kiss as husbands. He recalled how soft his lips felt against his own and how lucky he was to have a man like this to love and to hold in his arms forever... Or at least until death do us part. Now, through his misty eyes, all he could see was his entire world, his life, his love, lying in a coffin, and once again it was hard to breathe, as though when Baekhyun’s heart stopped beating, Chanyeol’s did too. He almost reached out, wanting to draw his finger down his soft, serene face and remind his skin what it was like to be warm, to take his small hand into his and hold it close to his heart as though his flame would ignite the spark that had gone out in Baekhyun’s chest, as though he could breathe life into this empty shell of who his husband once was.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
Next Chapter~
Genre: Angst, Tragedy
Pairings: Chanbaek/Baekyeol
Length: about 48k
Warnings: [[ Violence, blood, a lot of talk about death (Spoiler!) Character Death (I am so sorry) ]]
Synopsis: Being a superhero comes with its own share of victories and losses. Triumphs and sacrifices. Mistakes and consequences. Yet there are some things you can't reverse, despite how many tomorrows you're willing to give up to fix just one yesterday.
Chanyeol is only given a week to do it all over again, although he already knows how it ends.
But that doesn't mean he's okay with that. And he'd give anything he can to change it.
After all, how could you fit the love of a lifetime into just one week?
A/n: This is a mix between something I planned to do a long time ago and part of a plot given by Baekyeol-prompts (prompt #35 - but the prompt is a little bit spoiler-ish, so beware before clicking on that link.) This is an old fic with an old plot and a kinda old writing style that I went ham trying to cover up, so it might seem different and more basic than it should (I hope it doesn’t), but eh. Eh.
I’m actually super nervous about this one because this fic has been my baby for the past couple of months, and I really hope it doesn’t disappoint you ;n; It’s so much different from what I usually post, but I’ve missed writing these things so……… I really hope you don’t hate it lol.
I also sorta messed with Kyungsoo’s power in this a little (read: a lot), so uhh, I guess it includes manipulation of metals as well. Just putting this out there so you’re not confused later.
- LET -
1:17 am.
Rain. The continuous patter on the asphalt clashed with his own rushed steps and harsh pants as he cut through the darkness that bled between the trees like an ominous mist, swallowing everything in sight, consumed by the night. There was nothing but the darkness, aside from the barely visible grey breaths of air escaping his lips and the streets covered with rain sparkling like a sea of glitter, or the occasional flicker of a street lamp lining the trail.
Shards of broken glass from the lamps lay scattered across the cracking, crumbling path, darkened from the droplets of rain that painted fallen autumn leaves to the ground in red and orange harmony, singing their last dying spurts of color before they surrendered to the wind and the cold and returned to the dust. They squished and tore under Chanyeol’s feet as he ran, paying no mind to the nature, no mind to the sounds as he sank further into the night, each of his senses drowned out by the dark, by the wind and the cold, by his heartbeat and his thoughts. A name.
Another shatter. Another shower of hot glass rained down on him, a few shards grazing his cheek. More darkness, less light. It didn’t phase him. The blood streaming down his face, diluted by the rain soaking through his hair didn’t phase him. Keep running.
He ran, with the burn of fear and exhaustion in his throat and the excruciating squeeze of his chest that came along with each deep pant, he ran. Rain seeped into his clothes, his hair, his skin, his soul, tempting to freeze his body down to the core, but the flame burning within him only intensified. He’d overheat if he wasn’t careful. Pools of excess fire gathered in the footsteps he left behind, anger and rage flooded his body, and only the single name in his mind propelled him forward.
Baekhyun. Baekhyun.
He was alone in the darkness, alone with his mind and all the possibilities and what-ifs, and not even the booming thunder and flashes of lightning could interrupt his thoughts. The others had run off in different directions to search for their lost friend, and although Chanyeol was alone, it was only in the silence and the darkness that he could truly come alive. He took a deep breath of the cool night air that smelled of rain and sulfur and looked forward, eyes focused and determined. If he could find any source of this pure light, he’d know Baekhyun was near.
He had no time to waste.
It was then that he saw a streak of light, like an arrow from a familiar bow, in the distance. Hints of shapes moving in the background prompted Chanyeol to shout his name, the cry strangled in his throat by exhaustion and desperation, though he was still much too far for anyone to hear. There was another arrow, and then another, yet Chanyeol could do nothing as worry crept up his throat. He kept his mind focused on the shattering lights. This shouldn't still be happening; something was wrong.
He watched the silhouettes as if they were dancing in the night to a tune too soft to hear, one that flowed like the adrenaline through their veins. And they danced, dodging each tiny knife of rain from heaven and the lightning crackling through the clouds like the intricate webs of a spider's nest, as if Baekhyun was their prey, and sometimes the light would reach down to earth in an attempt to catch him and pull him back up between the lips of the clouds and into the mouth of heaven with a quick, poisonous kiss. As he was, Baekhyun was dancing with Death.
Chanyeol’s anger and determination burned like gasoline, the fire behind him spreading to the trees of the forest despite the heavy rain, but all he could do now was run. He didn't spare a single glance over his shoulder for Jongin, nor did he call to tell them that he had found him, although anything would be faster than this, but Chanyeol was always rather narrow-minded, and Baekhyun was the only thing currently occupying that space. He wished to be a barrier between Baekhyun and his enemies, slipping into the space between them and stealing his hands from his bow, sliding the small, slender fingers into his own as they step in tune to the beat of their own music, rather than this deadly routine much too fast for Baekhyun to keep up with. Stop this. Dance with me instead.
The quick flashes of light arrows from Baekhyun’s bow drove him forward. The fire behind him propelled him forward like unstable rockets from his feet, helping him cut through the foliage faster, making it harder to choke out the name. Baekhyun. Baekhyun, please.
He burst through the trees on the other side of the forest where a small fairground had been built. The night was lit with the colorful lights of Ferris wheels and merry-go-rounds in the distance. In the center stood an outdoor amphitheater, stage lights focused at the center, and just beyond the blinding lights, he could barely make out three shadows fighting in the midst of them.
This was a show, and Baekhyun was the main event.
He ran, begging the gods, if any existed, to make it in time; he ran, despite the fire catching in his lungs and the smoke smothering him; he ran, yet he was still too far, his body too fatigued to even scream as the shortest figure dashed forward and sunk a knife into whom he presumed was Baekhyun’s abdomen. The stadium lights of the auditorium burst. A loud boom of thunder shook the air as showers of hot glass rained upon them. Baekhyun fell to his knees, clutching his side as he gasped in pain, much to Kyungsoo’s delight as the silhouette of a long sword appeared by his side, and he placed the tip of it underneath the bleeding man’s chin.
Chanyeol's steps faltered as he let out a weak, distressed cry, but he couldn't stop, no, faster, faster, please let me make it in time to help you. He was close, but not close enough; close enough to reach into the fading light pulling away from him faster each second, but not close enough to grasp it. Close enough to scream if he could, but not close enough for it to be of any comfort or help. Close enough to see the malevolent twist of Jongdae’s figure no longer in shadow, stalking forward like a cat toward his wounded prey, but not close enough to stop him. Chanyeol stumbled over his feet, nearly falling to the ground, but he quickly composed himself and continued running, his throat burning as he attempted to shout Baekhyun’s name, but the word was caught in his throat, unable to escape his lips. No, no stop it, please-
His sight was blurred by water, the heavy rain between them making it much more difficult to see clearly. He could barely make out the hazy silhouette of Jongdae pushing Kyungsoo away, and then his gloved hand closed around Baekhyun’s throat, holding up his body which glowed brightly in anger, or perhaps fear, his last attempt to make himself seem capable of escape, though the glow faltered, weakened by his wounds, his little feet kicking in the air as he struggled in the tightening grasp, small hands desperately clawing at Jongdae’s own. Chanyeol’s body bristled at the implications that he was just like those dying leaves, giving off one last final burst of energy before crumbling in on himself, and he couldn’t help but want to scream. Don't do it, please not when I'm so close, don't do it. Yet it was sickening to see Baekhyun so helpless, Jongdae so powerful, with that smirk on his face as though he already knew he had won.
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of lightning that directly struck Baekhyun, light engulfing his body, throwing Chanyeol to the floor as Baekhyun’s scream was swallowed by the thunder. As the rumble shook the ground beneath Chanyeol’s feet, he turned his head away to shield his eyes from the light, squeezing them closed, and he hated himself, he hated that he was looking away, and he hated that he couldn’t save him, and he hated that he was just meters away, and if he was faster he could’ve reached him-
The burst of electricity dissipated, leaving Baekhyun’s light burned out, his body no longer shining with that indignant glow of his; rather, smoke rose to the clouds from where he was held, like a sacrifice to the heavens.
Jongdae released his grasp on his throat, and Baekhyun fell gracelessly to the floor, crumbled in a lifeless, smoking heap of burned limbs and scorched hair. Kyungsoo joined his partner’s side and they stood above him triumphantly, another flash of lightning illuminating their faces along with the echoing sound of thunder in the distance as the remaining electricity buzzing through Baekhyun’s system faded out into silence.
Kyungsoo stepped forward and gave a kick to the boy's side, but he rolled over like a rag doll at their dispense. He didn't get up and kick them back - he didn't even give a groan of pain. He simply remained unmoving on the floor. The thunder melded together with their voices in a loud celebratory laugh.
There was a broken screech that tore through the night.
“Baekhyun!”
The two menaces looked up. At the sight of Chanyeol, they hurriedly stumbled back, as though deciding whether taking down Baekhyun was an accomplishment that inflated their ego enough to where they were confident to tag team Chanyeol as well, although Chanyeol would have rushed head first into the danger and probably lit the world on fire so no one would escape his wrath. But the two backed away, knowing if Chanyeol was here, others would be coming soon, so they ran into the shadows, leaving Baekhyun on the floor as they escaped from the scene.
However, the only thing in Chanyeol’s mind was Baekhyun. He coughed and stumbled over his steps as he approached the stage, unable to control his power as everything behind him surrendered to the flames, but Chanyeol paid it no mind, screaming as much as his throat would allow, cracking through the wood of the auditorium steps as he made his way up to the stage where his partner lay motionless on the floor. The flame in his soul automatically extinguished at the sight.
Everything seemed to pause - the rain, the thunder, the crackling of the fires, the urgency - as his eyes rest upon Baekhyun, lying like the fallen prey of a heartless hunter. He wanted to run, yet he managed no more than a drunken stagger as he hobbled toward him, his legs wobbling in protest, in disbelief, but no dammit, this couldn’t be… he couldn’t be... He fell to his knees as his heart shattered like the glass shards of the lights that lay in fragments across the floor. The air was forced out of his lungs like something foreign was twisting in his chest, winding his breath around its fingers like a long silk scarf, then choking him with it. He couldn’t breathe. He was burning, he was freezing, he was crying, and screaming, and losing control, and it was all tearing him apart because he wasn't there when his best friend needed him. His partner needed him. His husband needed him.
He didn’t take a glance back from his husband on the floor to the shady figures escaping into the clouds of darkness in the distance, though a small corner of his mind was fighting between his priorities. Kyungsoo and Jongdae, but Baekhyun - they’re escaping, he has to stop them, but Baekhyun...
Panting, he quickly crawled forward to Baekhyun’s side, vision hazy and blurred by tears, and he wished he could pretend these were the fuzzy edges of a dream cloud, like this was a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. He pulled the small man’s body toward him, turning him onto his back. In his haste, he quickly tugged the knife from his side with a cry and threw it behind him, staring down at his bleeding husband in silent distress. He hadn't brought anything to help heal the wound. He didn't know he'd need anything. He didn't know Baekhyun would be...
“Ch… yeol…” The soft voice of Sehun finally approaching with Jongin was no relief to his ears. Chanyeol’s eyes remained fixed on the deep wound in his husband’s side, and he continued to scan over the extent of the physical scratches and bruises raking across his skin, yet he was comforted, if anything, by the pained scrunch of Baekhyun’s face and the shallow breaths escaping his barely parted lips. He wanted silence. He wanted to be alone.
“Jongin, Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol shouted, waving his hand hysterically in the direction the two fiends ran off in, and Jongin took one last quick look to the couple before disappearing, leaving behind only a few wisps of black smoke.
Chanyeol sank further into the night, drawn out only by Sehun’s hand on his shoulder. “Yixing is on his way,” he whispered, and Chanyeol gave no response aside from a slow nod. Sehun softly squeezed his shoulder, unable to offer any more comfort, before letting go and taking a few steps back to give them privacy.
Chanyeol couldn’t tell how long it had been - how long he’d been sitting here with Baekhyun, so close yet so far away, how long he’d been cursing at himself, how long he’d been silently staring at his wounds, how long he’d been holding back tears. “What did they do to you?” Chanyeol whispered, running his fingers down his husband’s pale, cold skin, hard under his fingertips. He dragged his thumb slowly across Baekhyun’s bottom lip, barely parted to take in short breaths of air, and he watched the smallest movement of his chest, each breath more difficult to take in than the last.
Baekhyun’s eyes barely cracked open into little scrunched slits.
“Yeol…?”
The crack of his voice was like the faint haze of a rainbow after a night of heavy rain. He slipped his hand into Baekhyun’s and gave it a comforting squeeze. He nearly bit his tongue as he stumbled over his words, like he had an important speech and only a second to deliver it. “Yes Baekhyun, I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here.”
He held on tighter to Baekhyun’s pale hand as the pained wrinkles in Baekhyun’s forehead deepened, and Chanyeol took a single hand away from his face to smooth them out. Baekhyun was hanging on to him like Chanyeol was holding on to him, and neither of them could let go, lest they lose the other forever. Chanyeol’s hand tightened around Baekhyun’s small fingers. He won’t. He won’t let him go.
“It's okay, Baekhyun, it's going to be okay.” But the stress in his trembling fingers didn't say that, the fear in his eyes didn't say that, and he knew neither of their hearts believed that, not even Baekhyun’s with its slow, difficult beats, determined to pound on.
He watched Baekhyun's eyes slowly close.
“They're gone, Chanyeol,” Jongin reported back, but Chanyeol didn’t respond, too lost in his own world holding onto Baekhyun’s small hands, rubbing his thumb across his thin fingers as he stared down at his husband’s face. He slowly closed his eyes and bowed his head down to Baekhyun’s chest before he let out a heavy, shaky breath. Chanyeol had never been the type to show weakness in front of anyone, yet as his shoulders began to shake with his silent sobs, everyone else seemed to vanish in the night.
Sehun couldn't stand to watch. Chanyeol heard him pull Jongin away and the faintest sounds of them arguing in the background amidst the echoing thunder.
“Go look for them.” “I already did; they’re nowhere near the area.” “Well look harder.” “I’d have found them by now if I fucking could, okay?”
The sounds of sirens blaring in the distance cut into their argument, yet Chanyeol still couldn't look up. An ambulance followed by a few fire trucks made its way in front of the stage. The backdoors opened, a team of people rushed out with a gurney, and suddenly Chanyeol couldn't hear himself think anymore as everything was lost in hasty shouts of commands and orders, until he heard the familiar, calm tone of Yixing’s voice. “Bring me Baekhyun.”
Chanyeol finally glanced up to the men surrounding his husband, and he looked absolutely miserable - the rain plastered his hair to his forehead, and his eyes were red and puffy, eyebrows drawn together in distress.
“Tell me he’s okay; tell me he’ll be okay,” he pleaded as they tried to pry Chanyeol away from his husband.
“Sir, you have to let go.”
“No, please,” Chanyeol cried, only holding onto Baekhyun’s small hand tighter as the medical team lifted him onto the gurney. Sehun pulled him up from his knees and tried to hold him back from hindering the medical team from doing their job. “Please don’t take him from me, don’t,” he begged, trying to pull himself away from Sehun as the men in those baggy uniforms began rushing the gurney back toward the van. “Let me go with you - I don’t want to let go, no, don’t!” he screamed as Baekhyun’s hand slipped out from between his fingers and hung lifelessly by his side. “Baekhyun!”
Yixing stood against the back of the white ambulance van, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold with a lifeless look in his eyes as Chanyeol struggled against his friend.
“Stop it, stop!” Chanyeol shouted, thrashing like a child in Sehun’s arms, and the younger was barely able to hold him back before he tried to burn down the ambulance van in frustration. But the flame in Chanyeol’s body had reignited as he screamed, and fire escaped his lips in pillars of orange flame as he wailed his sorrows into the night, his body arching in Sehun’s arms as he screamed fire up to the heavens and tears of agony streamed down his face, met back only by the boom of thunder and solemn shower of rain.
Yixing could barely tear his eyes away to halt the medical team with a raise of his hand. He hopped down from the back of the van and approached Baekhyun, placing his fingers carefully over different spots of his body as if searching for a pulse or any flicker of light left in his soul, looking for wounds to heal and finding too many, looking for the soft, labored rise and fall of his chest that gave the illusion of him still having a chance, no matter how thin, how small, how weak.
“No - No! Let go of me!” Chanyeol shouted in the background, his injured throat making his voice deeper and raspier, like a roar from a lion who had lost his queen. He tugged an arm away from Sehun as Yixing stepped away from Baekhyun and glanced over his shoulder at Chanyeol, still struggling to see his husband once more before the medical team piled into the back of the van. “Let me go, Sehun, let go! Let me see him, Yixing, let me in! Don’t take him away from me, stop!”
Yixing closed his eyes with a heavy sigh before climbing up the back of the van. Chanyeol’s resistant flame slowly died out, giving a final weak scream of his husband's name as he struggled in Sehun’s arms, trying to get one last good look into the ambulance as the doors closed. And then they were left alone once again as the sirens of the ambulance and the firetrucks disappeared into the night.
“Baek…” The name escaped on a cool wisp of air as Chanyeol sagged in Sehun’s grasp, the noise and pandemonium fading back to the eerie silence of the rainy night, where even the light from the moon couldn’t shine through the thick clouds outlined with death and despair. Shrouded in the darkness, Chanyeol stood frozen in Sehun’s arms, in the silence, except for the rhythmic patter of raindrops on the ground and the soft pants of warm air escaping Chanyeol’s lips like ghosts in the night making their slow ascent up to heaven.
It rained again on the day of the funeral.
Standing outside under his own little black umbrella, Chanyeol stood frozen like a scene in a black and white sketch, charcoal smudged across the entire picture by the artist’s palm. It was all a blur, a haze, as he stared straight ahead through the sheets of rain, thinking about nothing, feeling nothing, from the rain droplets splashing on his black, Italian shoes, to the cold wind beating against his Armani suit. His umbrella remained loose in his grip as they all stood in silence, the world stood in silence, mourning. Everything around him seemed to stand still with time and faded into the grey of the background like a sheet draped over the world.
His eyes slowly rose to the sky, echoing the rest of the world with an eerie, gloomy grey that swallowed up the sunlight and the green of the trees as the clouds gathered in dense patches of cotton as though they were mocking him - mocking him because his light was gone. Baekhyun was his everything, the cleanest breaths of air in his lungs, the melody to his harmony, the brightest spark to his eternal flame, but what was a flame without a spark? What was a song without half of its notes? How was he supposed to survive when he was incomplete with half of his heart missing?
Chanyeol took in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
The biting silence nipped at his ears until the sound of the rain pattering against his umbrella slowly returned in unfulfilling white noise and the cold chill of the autumn wind slithered down his spine. No one truly liked funerals, but Chanyeol especially hated them. He hated the way all the dull colors combined into dark, ugly blobs of greys, browns, and blacks, and he was in the center of it all, about to burst into flame. He hated that all of the people wearing bright, festive colors on their wedding, screaming blessings and applause were now standing around him, their faces pale and solemn, holding back tears or wailing into their loved ones’ chests. They were wearing black. They were all wearing black.
Even Baekhyun, who had looked so beautiful in his white tuxedo on their wedding day, glowing brighter than ever in excitement and rare embarrassment, his bashful side slowly taking over as he hid against Chanyeol’s side, was now wearing black. Silent. Dimmed. There wasn’t a smile on his soft, pink lips, nor was there a sparkle in his eternally closed eyes.
It was terrifying. This wasn’t Baekhyun. It was everything that his light wasn’t.
His body looked just as frail as it had been days ago, when Chanyeol was sitting by his bedside in the hospital, holding his small hand once again as if it could give him any comfort. His own hands trembled around Baekhyun’s fragile fingers as cold as porcelain, as the fear of losing him buzzed through his veins, and he was so worried that if he let them go, perhaps they would fall to the floor and shatter, and Chanyeol’s heart would do the same.
Yixing had stood by his side for minutes in that stark white doctor’s outfit with his hand placed on his shoulder. Neither of them said anything; just the silent ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything’ hung in the air between them before Chanyeol softly asked to be alone. And as the door closed behind Yixing, Chanyeol slowly curled over Baekhyun’s body, silently sobbing into the white hospital sheets, before falling asleep at his husband’s side one last time.
Now he was here again, standing over his coffin, wishing to be alone.
When we promised ‘til death do us part,’ I thought it implied we’d be together forever. Not that Death would sweep you off your feet before I even had a chance to love each and every part of you fully.
Perhaps if he had known there would be a last time so soon, he would have spent every moment awake with him, fawning over him, loving him, and every moment asleep next to him, holding him, dreaming about him. As he stared into the open coffin, Chanyeol’s eyes were distracted by the curling petals of red roses framing Baekhyun’s small face, only accentuating how pale his own skin was against the white linen. Baekhyun never truly liked roses, so instead, Chanyeol brushed them away before lying down four white lilies on top of his chest to immortalize their beauty along with Baekhyun’s before they were lowered into the ground.
Chanyeol hated this. He hated how this cold, hard frown looked so out of place on Baekhyun's face, how sickening the lack of a pink blush across his cheeks was, the way his eyelashes solemnly fanned across the apples of his cheeks, and Chanyeol had to clench his jaw and his fists, his blunt nails digging into his palm, to ground himself and choke back emotions crawling their way up his throat.
As his eyes graced over the sleeping figure once more, he focused on each of Baekhyun’s flawless features that he knew as well as the back of his hand or the promises they had scrawled across their hearts, from each strand of his blonde hair and the brown peeking through at his roots, to the mole above his lip that he had kissed more times than he could count. As he stood in the rain, he recalled memories that he had associated with each of them, like the kiss he pressed to Baekhyun’s little button nose on their wedding day as they danced under the stars, and the way he got so lost in Baekhyun’s eyes and how they sparkled when he slipped his wedding ring onto his thin finger. He recalled the way Baekhyun stood on the tips of his toes, nearly jumping into Chanyeol’s arms as they shared their first kiss as husbands. He recalled how soft his lips felt against his own and how lucky he was to have a man like this to love and to hold in his arms forever... Or at least until death do us part. Now, through his misty eyes, all he could see was his entire world, his life, his love, lying in a coffin, and once again it was hard to breathe, as though when Baekhyun’s heart stopped beating, Chanyeol’s did too. He almost reached out, wanting to draw his finger down his soft, serene face and remind his skin what it was like to be warm, to take his small hand into his and hold it close to his heart as though his flame would ignite the spark that had gone out in Baekhyun’s chest, as though he could breathe life into this empty shell of who his husband once was.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
Next Chapter~