Behind Blue Eyes; baekyeol [5/5]
Behind Blue Eyes (5/5)
<- part 4
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end.
― Gilda Radner
xviii. CONCUPISCENCE
(n) lust
Chanyeol doesn’t trust promises made of words, but this, he thinks, kissing Baekhyun on his eyes, nose and lips, he can believe in this. In Baekhyun’s warmth, the way he reacts to what Chanyeol is doing to him. The level of trust he’s showing, just by being there, naked, laid bare in front of Chanyeol for the first time. He’s shaking, little tremors running through his body, and Chanyeol would do anything to be able to see his face, but he can’t - oh, so this is what Baekhyun must be feeling right now - so he does what Baekhyun would do and kisses him again.
Baekhyun tilts his head and exposes his neck and pants, breathless, fighting against the intrusion of Chanyeol’s fingers inside him. Chanyeol touches him, slowly, feeling the tense plans of his chest, his stomach, the muscles rigid under his palm, coiling and contracting when Baekhyun’s insides clench around him.
“You’re too tense,” he says, in a whisper. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Really, Park Chanyeol? You said you were good at this, so make me feel good.”
Oh, he makes it sound so easy. Nothing is easy with Baekhyun, not even the things Chanyeol is really good at doing, like making people come apart under his hands. Baekhyun’s body is as stubborn as he is, reticent and uncommunicative and contradictory. It tenses around Chanyeol’s fingers and relaxes at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice.
“Like this, breathe, Baekhyun, Baekhyunnie, breathe slowly, it’s not gonna work if you don’t relax.”
“What if I can’t relax and it doesn’t work? What if I’m not good at sex what if...”
“If you suck at sex I’ll put your pretty mouth to use and teach you how to blow me,” he says, with a smile, and Baekhyun’s body unknots suddenly at the sound of his voice. Oh, Chanyeol could easily get drunk on the feeling of power rushing through him every time Baekhyun reacts to the sound of his voice.
“If this sucks I will be the one getting a consolatory blowjob, not you,” he says, stubbornly, and Chanyeol is so surprised he has to stop. “Was that a pun, Baekhyun?”
Baekhyun groans. “It wasn’t intentional, ok?”
And Chanyeol laughs and shifts closer and then suddenly Baekhyun is jerking up between a sigh and a sob. It could’ve been a cry if only he’d had enough air in his lungs.
“Feeling good already?”
There’s no answer to his question but the way Baekhyun locks his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, trying to drag him closer, is quite taletelling. Chanyeol teases Baekhyun open until the boy under him is a mess, finding that spot again until Baekhyun does scream.
He fumbles around the condom, has to actually find his phone first because it’s too dark and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and for a moment he’s glad Baekhyun can’t see him shaking, too busy with clenching around Chanyeol’s fingers again, tense again, too tense, too lost. Chanyeol leans down to pump his cock into full hardness in fast, tight jerks, until the pressure eases.
It is going to hurt. Even with all the teasing, the foreplay, all the preparation he did, it can’t be an easy fit. It’s Baekhyun’s first time and he’s quite tense, but Chanyeol kisses him again as he slips his fingers off him and rolls the condom on his own cock, smearing lube all over it. It feels heavy in his hands, so hard. He takes a deep breath to calm himself lest he spills in his own hand like an overexcited kid. Baekhyun is touching himself too, and panting, tiny little sounds at the back of his throat. He’s making things so difficult for Chanyeol.
His fingers are sticky with lube and sweat and nerves, but Baekhyun doesn’t seem to mind as he intertwines them with his own. He steals another kiss, to ease the tension between them, but it doesn’t really help.
Their first attempt is messy. The tip of Chanyeol’s dick catches on Baekhyun’s rim, but the boy clenches suddenly and his body rejects Chanyeol.
“Breath, Baekhyunnie, it’s just me.”
“It fucking hurts,” says Baekhyun, tight-lipped, hissing between his teeth when Chanyeol tries again. “But don’t stop,” he adds, as if Chanyeol was going to stop. If he was a tad less excited this would be a complete failure - he’s never taken well to criticism in the bedroom - but as things are, he just wants to fuck Baekhyun so bad there’s no way he’s going to lose the mood. He tries again and this time he can feel it, the breach, the way Baekhyun’s body adapts to his own. They both sigh, Baekhyun in pain and Chanyeol in bliss.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks. He’s shaking, he can feel it, his entire body is shaking from the effort to keep his hips still and not thrust inside Baekhyun, not even if he’s warm, tight and slick from all the lube and perfect.
Baekhyun sobs. He’s shaking too, like a bowstring, and Chanyeol doesn’t know whether he’s the arrow or the archer. “Next time,” Baekhyun says, breathless, “next time I’ll do the topping.” Chanyeol simply laughs at him,”Yes, if you want, whatever you want,” and sweeps down to steal another open-mouthed, messy kiss.
“Just move, it feels terrible.”
It is terrible, a little bit, like all first times are - and one day Chanyeol will tell Baekhyun about his first time just to make him feel better - but to Chanyeol this moment feels amazing, to the point he doesn’t know how much he’ll last.
The rhythm they build is shaky, unsure at first, and Baekhyun is tense and awkward and sounds like he doesn’t know what to do with the moans spilling from his lips, but he lets himself go when Chanyeol picks up the rhythm. He spreads his legs, arches his body, simply enjoys the feeling. He drags Chanyeol closer.
“It’s still terrible?” Chanyeol asks, surprising himself with the way he can still spell words right when the only thing filling his head is just thick desire, the primal instinct of the chase, in and out, wanting the end to come but at the same time hoping this moment can last forever.
“Faster,” answers Baekhyun, like a prayer, like a revelation, “Chanyeol, faster.”
Chanyeol can’t afford to slow down, but he thinks about it - would Baekhyun beg? Not today, not today but any other day, he should try and see what happens. He misses a bit and Baekhyun’s nails dig into his shoulder. “Don’t tease,” he says, low and angry and demanding, as if he just read Chanyeol’s mind.
Chanyeol can only comply, faster, faster, until his rhythm is faltering, messy and askew, and Baekhyun’s skin is so slick with perspiration Chanyeol’s fingers scramble for support, unable to anchor themselves on Baekhyun’s hip. It’s fast and it’s amazing and Chanyeol could spent the next fucking century in this bed, just fucking Baekhyun, but he feels the pleasure swimming past him and he drowns in it.
“Baekhyun-ah, I can’t- I won’t last. Touch yourself.”
He can barely feel Baekhyun sneaking a hand between their bodies to get a hold of himself and going over the edge with a soft, surprised cry. In the darkness, Chanyeol comes so hard he can see the stars.
xxix. NOESIS
(n)the psychological result of perception and learning and reasoning
Life is not a straight line, nor a crooked one. Life is not a prolonged amount of time. Life is a constellation of moments, of bright lights burned in our memories from our birth to our death, and the task of connecting the dots to reveal the final design is up to us. In the end, what happened is not important as much as what is remembered. The stars burn bright and everything else is cosmic dust.
Chanyeol might not own Baekhyun, but this moment… Chanyeol wants this to be one of those moments Baekhyun can turn up to when he feels sad, when he feels lonely, when he feels like he’s not enough. He wants Baekhyun to remember it, all of it. The cracking of the bed, the breeze coming from the open window. The taste of Baekhyun’s neck, salty and clean, adrenaline and endorphin. The feel of his arms wrapped around Chanyeol’s shoulders, hands linked just below his nape, and the feel of his skin, how it’s burning hot at Chanyeol’s touch, his muscles jumping when Chanyeol kisses him, like flying fish leaping outside the water to have a taste of the sky. The sound, oh, the maddening sounds Baekhyun makes, rising like the tidal wave and breaking on the shore in rivulets of breath, in foam, in moans. The sight. The indescribable sight. What is the sunset compared to Baekhyun’s blush, the redness spreading on his chest and neck, painting his face and ears pink. Eyes screwed shut, alone in the wake of sensation, but never really alone - not when Chanyeol is here - Baekhyun’s lips part and he’s like a blossom opening its petals for the first time. The scent of the dog-rose permeates the air.
xxx. CRYSTALIZE
(v) to make free from confusion or ambiguity; to make clear
Red blossoms in the shape of Chanyeol’s mouth on Baekhyun’s throat, on his lips, on the hollow of his collarbone and on his sternum. Red blossoms in the shape of Chanyeol’s hands on Baekhyun’s hips, on his shoulders, on his thighs. Red blossoms outside the window, when dawn breaks and colors the fog of the city crimson and gold.
Baekhyun is still fast asleep in that tangle mess of limbs and fabric that is his bed - their bed. His features are soft, his face a little swollen, in a way that tempts Chanyeol to bite it. It’s morning and he’s hard. He groans, shifting on the bed until he’s humping the mattress and not Baekhyun. He’s sure Baekhyun will wake up soon and nag at him, but it’s better to be scolded for defiling the bed than for defiling your boyfriend while he sleeps.
Baekhyun shifts too and his hand blindly searches the bed for Chanyeol’s body.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he says, and it comes out all raspy and throaty, on the verge of breaking on the last word. He groans when he sits up and then he blushes, remembering why his bottom hurts so much. From his privileged position on the bed, Chanyeol can see the flush spread on his chest. Very nice.
“I’m being considerate of your feelings,” he answers. Would it be too inconsiderate to jerk off next to Baekhyun? Asking for permission seems awkward, but what if he doesn’t ask and Baekhyun realizes anyway and nags at him?
“Which feelings?” Baekhyun sounds confused. He finally finds Chanyeol’s arm and pulls to get him to come closer.
“You get awfully grumpy in the mornings if I touch you without permission,” he explains. He carefully maintains his safety distance, lest he upsets Baekhyun causing him to be moody for the entire day.
“I do not,” declares Baekhyun. Chanyeol doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s pouting.
“You do,” he replies, finally deciding to wrap a hand against his half-hard cock.
“Is that why you’re masturbating next to me? But without me? To be considerate of my feelings?”
Oh, fuck. He realized.
Baekhyun chuckles, but he’s still so sleepy he reminds Chanyeol more of a low purr, an affectionate rumbles that rolls down his throat into the pillow. He follows Chanyeol’s arm until he finds his wrist, tugs until Chanyeol falls all over him and rolls his hips upwards to welcome him. They both groan at the sudden contact and Chanyeol thrusts back against him, forcing a deep, throaty moan out of Baekhyun.
He would fuck him like this, he realizes, when he’s still tender and raw from last night, his skin giving up easily under Chanyeol’s touch. Baekhyun angles his hips, biting a soft cry between his lips, and brings Chanyeol’s hand to his cock.
They’re not new to this, to touching, to teasing, but it’s the first time they’re doing it in broad daylight and Chanyeol can see everything, the heaving of Baekhyun’s chest, up and down, up and down, his lips, slick and parted and chapped from the last night, the way his cock twitch in Chanyeol’s hand, glistening with precum, when Chanyeol jerks him slow and tight.
Baekhyun’s expression is so unguarded, so raw and open and precious, that Chanyeol has to duck down and hide his head in the hollow between Baekhyun’s neck and shoulder while his face burn. He feels stupid because Baekhyun is his own and he has every right to look at him - he earned those right fairs and square. But looking at Baekhyun right now, his body naked, his face naked, his soul naked, all laid out and bare and helpless, caught in his own pleasure like a fish caught in a net, is impossible, it feels like looking at a miracle, at something unreal. Baekhyun is transcendent and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to do.
“I love you,” he says, and Baekhyun coils against him, arching his back so high it stops touching the bed and Chanyeol can wrap his other arm under him and push him upwards, reveling in the friction of Baekhyun’s thigh against his own cock. He closes his eyes when Baekhyun comes because he doesn’t think he deserves to see it, but he rocks him slowly through his orgasm and he drinks the sound Baekhyun makes, open-mouthed and wet, until he finally lets himself fall back against the damp sheets.
“Touch me,” he says, like a prayer. He opens his eyes and everything is still blurred, the need to come is fogging his vision at the edges, but he can see Baekhyun shining pink and gold as sunrise slowly melts into the blue sky.
Baekhyun touches him. His jaw, his neck. He twists a nipple, lazily, and Chanyeol ruts down against him and thinks about forcing Baekhyun’s hand down, around his cock. “Don’t tease,” he murmurs, an echo of the same words he received from Baekhyun the previous night, three fingers inside his boyfriend’s ass, teasing him until Baekhyun was on the verge of tears. And then later again, when he thought of making him beg. Now he’s not beyond begging himself. Baekhyun remembers that too and goes even slower, caressing Chanyeol’s abs, his hips. His nails dig at the small of Chanyeol’s back and then they slide down, fondling his ass.
“Byun Baekhyun, you either touch me now or...” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, just takes Baekhyun by the wrist and leads his fingers to his cock. Baekhyun giggles at his impatience, lazy and already sated, and Chanyeol would snarl at him if it could actually do him some good, but he knows it would only amuse Baekhyun more.
Baekhyun’s technique is clumsy and temptative. He likes it faster than Chanyeol does, but his grip is looser. His hands are softer than Chanyeol’s and there’s barely the friction he needs to come. He makes a needy, impatient noise at the back of his throat before closing his hand around Baekhyun’s and forcing him to hold tighter, harsher. His hips jerk, erratically, and when he leans his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder again his breath shatters in a gasp as Baekhyun says, with the tiniest voice Chanyeol has ever heard, “Come for me.”
Oh, Chanyeol does.
He doesn’t realize he was dozing off until Baekhyun shakes him awake.
“I’m sticky,” he says. “And you’re heavy.” He tries to sound grumpy, but there’s no real bite behind his words. On the contrary, when Chanyeol looks at him, Baekhyun is smiling. He’s bruised and tender all over, his skin is littered with mark bites and his hair a mess. But he smiles. The dawn has turned into early morning and the room is flooded with light, but there’s nothing as bright as his smile in Chanyeol’s world.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, long minutes drifting into half an hour of content slumber.
“Wanna sleep,” murmurs Baekhyun. “You?”
Chanyeol flexes his arms, feeling the blood slowly coming back. He feels like someone just poured honey inside his limbs, boneless.
“I want to fuck you again.”
Baekhyun turns his back to him to hide his smile, but Chanyeol props himself up on his elbow to see it, stretching his face.
“I never thought something like that would happen to me,” says Baekhyun and his voice doesn’t shake. “I just never thought someone would take the time... I mean. It took time. Not only the sex, everything. You got me roses on my birthday.” Now he’s barely making any sense but Chanyeol somehow understands. It’s too early for this conversation. Baekhyun’s lips are too red and swollen for these heavy words. “If you had asked me five years ago... Before you arrived... My past self would’ve laughed in your face. I was really convinced I would’ve never gotten the chance to... be like this with someone. Sex was something foreign. Going out was something abstract. I used to think romantic love existed to mock me, because I could never get a significant someone. I mean, I’m not unaware of what I am. I know myself. Who could ever like someone like me?”
Chanyeol. Chanyeol can. Chanyeol does.
“Five years ago, more or less, I started living alone,” he starts. Baekhyun’s hair is too long between his fingers. The boy leans into his touch, fitting perfectly in Chanyeol’s arms. Normally he would protest, morning moodiness and everything, but the orgasm has left him boneless, warm and lax against Chanyeol.
“Was it because you were gay?” he asks. “I mean, your mother seems to disapprove.”
Chanyeol scoffs. That’s quite a simple way to put it. “If you think my mother disapproves it’s only because you haven’t seen my father back then. He beat me, the day before I left, for the first time in his life.” And also the last. “And so I decided to leave. My parents thought I had a boyfriend and I was angry about the beating and that I would come home in a few days, like the other times I had run away from home.”
“There were other times?” asks Baekhyun, curious.
“Well, I was a very moody teenager. When something made me angry I slept at my friends’ houses for a few days, but I wouldn’t call that running away from home.”
Baekhyun shivers and Chanyeol pulls the blanket over them and sighs, knowing it’ll take hours to coax Baekhyun out of the warm bed afterwards, but he can’t help it. Baekhyun hums in contentment and Chanyeol twists his left nipple, just to tease him.
“Stop that, I’m ticklish!” he hisses, swatting one of Chanyeol’s wandering hands away from his chest. Chanyeol complies with a pout.
“Did you really leave because you had a boyfriend?” asks Baekhyun. He frowns, as if something is not adding up in his mind. “Have you ever had a boyfriend? You don’t seem like the type who would want a boyfriend.”
Accurate and sharp, that’s Chanyeol’s Baekhyun.
“I didn’t have a boyfriend. There were people in my life but I liked to fuck more than I liked to date. To be honest, I’ve always thought dating was for losers. What I mean is... I’ve never put so much effort into someone. I’ve never really found someone who was worth all this effort. Waiting five years for a boy to notice me? That’s stupid, isn’t it? But look at me now. You could say jump, and I’d jump. I’d really jump, Baekhyun.”
“Why?”
Ah, the very important question. The one Baekhyun has never dared to ask.
“Why me? Why us? I can’t believe you never met someone better than me.”
Chanyeol can’t believe it either. And yet... And yet. He doesn’t know where it started. Somewhere, along the lines of a fierce, deep hatred and fake, forced politeness. Between the rules of a game that kept changing and changing, a game none of them could win. At the bottom of a glass of cojinganmek, the first time Chanyeol got Baekhyun drunk, one windy night of May, one year ago, in front of the Han river. The night of Baekhyun’s birthday. The air was crisp and clear and Baekhyun’s face was blotched red from the evening air. He said many things. I feel alive. I want to dance. Can you believe we’re traveling in space? I think I’m a little in love with you.
Chanyeol’s relationship with Baekhyun used to be a straight, black line separating two people. Maybe that night, the ink was smudged. Where did it come from, that sudden desire to answer maybe I love you back hoping Baekhyun was too drunk to remember it the morning after? Chanyeol should’ve run away from such a dangerous thought. Instead, he leaned over and brushed Baekhyun’s fringe away from his forehead and he thought Baekhyun was the worst person for him and he was the worst person for Baekhyun.
They should’ve just fucked, he thought, to get the tension out of their system and go on with their lives, because there was no way two people like them could ever be together. Water and oil that’s what we are, he mused. And then, this game is becoming so old and boring, I should just end it. He got up, to tell Baekhyun, to not say these things, to not talk about love when he was drunk - especially when Chanyeol was drunk too and didn’t know how to react. His head was spinning so hard every word felt like it was coming from the center of the storm. He didn’t blink. “Maybe I love you back.”
In the end, Baekhyun was too drunk to remember those words, but Chanyeol doesn’t forget. The way he giggled and clung to his neck on their way back. The way he drooled on his shoulder, head lolling dangerously on one side, trying to whistle and failing, so warm, so warm.
Chanyeol remembers the sheer, insistent hunger he felt, to take Baekhyun home and fuck him like this, loose and lax, sprawled on the bed, so warm, so warm, to leave the morning after and never come back. He used to use sex like a weapon. To steal a moment and then leave and break up with people before they could even be together. He thought about breaking Baekhyun’s heart just because he could, to get rid of this insistent, swelling feeling in his chest.
But I’m not ready to let this go.
It was a fleeting, passing thought, so delicate, so fleeting, so powerful, like a revelation in the light of the night, so unlike everything Chanyeol had ever thought himself to be - manipulative, competitive, sly and ruthless, and selfish, above everything else - that Chanyeol had to stop for a moment to retrace the lines his tipsy mind was blurring. He breathed in and smelled Baekhyun. He looked at the cloudy sky and felt like he was the sky, looking at himself from a great distance, unable to recognize the person he was becoming. What are you doing, Park Chanyeol? Is he that important, for you to be so flustered? Get a grip over yourself.
Baekhyun fell asleep on his shoulder in the elevator and Chanyeol could only stare at his own, flabbergasted reflection, fifty-percent accusing and fifty-percent guilty. Once inside the house, he put Baekhyun to bed and finally collapsed against the door of the apartment, holding his head in his hands and wondering how far was he really going to go with Baekhyun. If he had been smart, he would’ve gone through that door to never come back. Chanyeol was smart, sometimes.
I’m not ready to let this go.
Sometimes he wasn’t. That was one year ago. Chanyeol he’s still deciding whether staying, that night, had been a smart move after all.
“Why aren’t you answering, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun is still waiting for an answer, but Chanyeol doesn’t really have one. He should’ve left Baekhyun a long time ago. He did try to leave Baekhyun a long time ago, when he realized he was getting attached, breaking his rule to never get emotionally involved with anyone, and Baekhyun had chased him back. Baekhyun, blind, angry and clueless, who showed up at Chanyeol’s door asking for help. And then, after that, the game, the game was the excuse. And then Chanyeol wasn’t ready, just another day, just another time. Baekhyun was just so endearing.
“I don’t know the right answer. I asked myself the same question, over and over, until one day I didn’t need to know the reason anymore. It just happened. Right now, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to let you go.”
xxxi. COMMENCEMENT
(n) the act of starting out, blazing a new trail
“Where are we going?”
“Ssssh, wait just a little...”
“Oh, come on, tell me!”
“It would ruin the surprise!”
“But I want to know!”
“You’re so impatient.”
“You’re so cruel!”
“You’re so cute!”
“You’re so impossible!”
A soft laugh. Chanyeol pouts and Baekhyun laughs again.
“That’s what I usually have to put up with,” he says, and it’s both fond and amused. Chanyeol makes a mental promise to never tease Baekhyun with surprise events again. This is torture. He wants to open his eyes so bad... Just a peek, that’s all he wants to do, Baekhyun would never know...
The car stops. He hears Baekhyun talking to Howon, his personal driver, “Can you... please?”. and one of the car doors is opened, then another. Howon is probably helping Baekhyun out.
“Can I open my eyes now?” he asks, in the whiniest tone he can muster. Baekhyun’s reply comes from outside the car. “Don’t you dare!”
Someone, Howon again, opens the door at Chanyeol’s right. “Can you get out on your own?”
Chanyeol can try. It’s a little difficult, to move without having any idea where he is. Maybe he should try one of Baekhyun’s mobility classes in the future, not because he really needs it but just to be able to know what Baekhyun feels. He almost trips on the ground - being blind is trickier than he expected - but Howon catches him and Chanyeol finally finds himself standing outside, on shaky feet. The sun is warm and the wind graces his face gently. He breathes grass, flowers and the expensive leather of the car interiors.
“Well, uhm, I’ll leave you two here. You can call me when you need to come back, sir.”
“Thank you, Howon-ah,” chirps happily Baekhyun. Chanyeol can hear the smile in his voice. Ah, he thinks, this is what Baekhyun must feel.
“Can I open my eyes now?” he asks, as petulant as he can, only because he knows Baekhyun will laugh and Baekhyun’s laugh is precious.
“Don’t you want to guess?” asks Baekhyun, the little tease. “Try once!”
“Well, we’re outside. A park? A garden? There are flowers around.” He can hear little children laughing happily and playing games, adult people talking. He can hear laughs and exclamations of surprise.
“Yes, that’s right. Can you tell me what kind of flowers?” Baekhyun is smiling, Chanyeol knows he is smiling and he can’t see it, and it’s maddening.
“How can I know? I’m not good with flowers, you’re the expert...”
“You should learn to recognize the fragrance of the flowers, at least. They’re important.”
Oh, this brings back memories. Baekhyun said something similar, when was it? Two years ago? The roses were in bloom, he still lived with his mother and... The roses!
Chanyeol opens his eyes and the sight makes him speechless. It steals the words from his mouth, one by one, and turns them into colors. Red, white, pink, bright magenta and molten gold There are colors everywhere. The roses are in bloom and Baekhyun’s smile is still more colorful than all the flowers in the garden.
“You opened your eyes,” says Baekhyun, because of course he would know. “But it seems like you managed to guess by yourself before you did it, so you’re forgiven. Do you know where we are now?”
Chanyeol knows. “The Seoul Rose Festival. Ah, I feel so lame now. I promised to take you here, didn’t I? And I completely forgot.”
Baekhyun’s smile widens. “Yes, you did. You’re a terrible boyfriend. But at least you have me, the most perfect boyfriend in the world.”
“The most beautiful,” says Chanyeol, “and dedicated, and passionate, and also a little bitch at times, but what’s life without spice?”
“You were going so well, but you ruined it at the end. So,” he says, and his cheeks are red, the tips of his ears even redder and the wing has messed up with his hair while Chanyeol wasn’t looking, “don’t you want to show me around?”
Chanyeol catches his hand like he would catch a butterfly. He holds it tight, dwarfed in his own, cradled in his warmth, and uses it to tug Baekhyun close. “I want to show you around the world. I want to give you everything.” And he’s so pathetic, so in love, saying cheesy things, ready to do cheesy stuff, like a loser. Maybe he is a loser, but he loves Baekhyun, who is soft and sharp, loud and warm, Baekhyun who has both beauty and thorns, just like a rose.
“Then do it, Chanyeol. Tell me about the roses, tell me about the sun and the clouds and the airplane trails in the sky. Tell me about everything. It’ll be alright, because it’s you.”
“Do you love me so much?” he asks, before he can stop himself.
Baekhyun doesn’t hesitate, not for a split moment.
“Yes, I do.”
He makes it sound so easy. But Chanyeol knows how difficult Baekhyun can be, how stubborn and self-deprecating and insincere and also how much of a coward, mean-spirited and ready to hurt before he can be hurt. Chanyeol knows the weight of this words. How long did Baekhyun cradle them in his mind, in the hollow between his ribs, at the tip of his tongue, too afraid to say them? Why did Chanyeol fail to notice he was getting ready to say them all along?
“Next year,” he says, “no, next year is too soon. In three years, in five years, in ten years and in fifteen years and in fifty years. Let’s meet again here, Baekhyun.”
It’s almost the end of May and the roses are in bloom and soon the spring will turn into summer and Chanyeol will take Baekhyun to the sea. Jeju Island maybe, or even farther, further, beyond the line of the horizon, chasing the sun on the other side of the world.
Baekhyun doesn’t know but Chanyeol has already planned everything. He wants to wait at least other six months. He wants to ask him to live together. Chanyeol wants to get Baekhyun a guide dog and call her Sandara. He wants Baekhyun to come with him at boring family dinners and rowdy company drinking nights. He wants Baekhyun, both with the tiny little steps and the big, warm gestures. He wants Baekhyun and he already has him, so he just has to stay quiet, keep his cool and wait for the right moment to actually come. Slowly, carefully, all of Baekhyun’s layers, all of Baekhyun’s defenses must be peeled to reveal the sweetness lying underneath, and the only person who can do this is...
“Chanyeol, let’s live together.”
Oh, well, seems like he beat me to it. Of course, it’s Baekhyun.
He says yes.
~Epilogue~
xxxii. HOPEFULNESS
(n) the feeling of having hope
Chanyeol feels terribly guilty for being late and he knows, he knows Baekhyun will nag at him. But when he opens the door and tiptoes inside the room, only Mongryong looks at him with accusing eyes. Sandara simply ignores all of them and goes back to her scratching post. Chanyeol pads through the room towards the bedroom and slowly pushes the door open to reveal the cocoon of blankets and warm skin that is his boyfriend, still in bed, pretending it’s not past midday and he’s not angry with Chanyeol for being late.
“Baekhyun-ah, I’m home,” he says softly, (he knows better not to shake him,) but Baekhyun simply turns his back to him and hides his head under the pillow. “Baekhyun-aaaah,” he repeats, adding a little whine, “come on, I’m not too late! Something happened at the office and I couldn’t leave earlier.”
Baekhyun emerges from his bed kingdom. He raises a questioning eyebrow when Chanyeol tells him to get up and takes approximately forever to roll out of bed and get dressed. Chanyeol tries not to tell him to hurry, even if he should hurry, because he knows Baekhyun would only point out it was Chanyeol’s fault in the beginning for coming home early and ruining their date.
“He’s so childish,” he says, to their pets. Mongryong scratches his ears, not really agreeing. Sandara ignores him. Their Siberian cat only loves Baekhyun. Chanyeol takes his revenge by picking her up, knowing she hates being petted by anyone but her only master Byun Baekhyun, and reminding her how much they paid for her fat ass.
“We only paid that much because someone is allergic to cats and needed a hypoallergenic cat. Don’t blame Sandara for your own shortcomings, Park Chanyeol.”
“I’m only letting you go because we’re already late and fighting about you would make us even later,” whispers Chanyeol to the cat before finally allowing her to escape.
“Have you finished antagonizing the pets?” asks Baekhyun, already on the door.
“Have you taken the dog?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
The sky was already dark since the early morning, but by the time they reach the venue it’s already started raining.
“Oh.” Chanyeol looks at the stormy clouds. He winces when lightning lifts the veil of darkness from the sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance. “This sucks.”
He circles the car, cursing at the misty, nasty drizzle attacking him from every direction, and opens the door on Baekhyun’s side. “Let me guess. Is it raining?” asks Baekhyun, in a mocking, know-it-all tone.
“Our Baekhyun has sharp ears. Don’t forget the umbrella, we’ll need it.”
The pathway is muddy and the sky is grey and it’s not cold, but a bit uncomfortable. Chanyeol takes the umbrella from Baekhyun and opens it, covering them both. He links arms with Baekhyun, keeping him close.
“So, would you tell me where we are, Chanyeol?”
“Mmmh, no? You can try and guess, since you’re so keen on being a smartass today.”
Baekhyun pinches him, annoyed. Chanyeol pinches him back. They walk towards the ticket stand and Chanyeol tells Baekhyun to wait and hold Mongryong as he buys two tickets. When he comes back, he finds Baekhyun chatting with a little girl with squishy cheeks and messy pigtails. He’s tilting his head down even if he can see her, out of habit, and he’s smiling at the way Mongryong pulls on the leash to smell her.
“Why are you wearing sunglasses if there’s not sun?” she asks, pointing her finger to the boy’s face. Her father rushes towards her and murmurs a quick apology. “Forgive her, she’s really nosy. Apologize, Min-ji!”
“No, it’s fine.” Baekhyun’s smile turns a little forced, but not enough to make it awkward. “I wear sunglasses because I can’t see and sometimes looking at me makes people uncomfortable.”
“Oh, that’s why you have the dog!” Baekhyun nods. “Can I pet him?” She moves towards Mongryong before Baekhyun can react and falls on her butt when the dog growls.
“Forgive him, he doesn’t really like to be touched by strangers...” Chanyeol can spot the uneasiness on his boyfriend. He grabs the ticket and quickly steps in, making his presence known with a fond, “Give me the umbrella, Baekhyun-ah.” He leaves the tickets in Baekhyun’s hand and takes the umbrella instead. It’s not big enough to shield them both, but he likes the idea of having to keep Baekhyun closer.
He can feel the eyes of the man in front of him, lingering on the inexistent space between them, and he can almost see the thoughts swimming in his head. He takes Baekhyun’s hand and holds it firmly. The line of the man’s jaw hardens. Their eyes meet and Chanyeol is not the one who looks away. “Come on Min-ji, mom is waiting... Say goodbye!”
She bows quickly. “Goodbye ahjussi! Have fun!”
“Sorry again if she bothered you, have a nice day!” says her father, and they both walk away quickly. Chanyeol glares at him until he’s disappeared.
“Thank you, my knight in a shining armor,” jokes Baekhyun. “For saving me from the monster!” He says it lightly, but Chanyeol knows he’s probably sensed the hostility from the child’s father. He doesn’t address it and nor does Chanyeol.
“Oh come on, she was an eight year old child, not a monster. You were handling her well.”
“The same can’t be said for Mongryongie,” he murmurs, crouching down to pet the Labradoodle. “I’m sorry buddy, I couldn’t stop her.”
“People are not supposed to pet a guide dog. Mongryongie did the only right thing and I’m proud of him. He’ll get treats later. “ He ignores Baekhyun’s whisper of, “She was only a child though,” to sneak a hand around his boyfriend’s shoulder and pull him close. He can feel people staring but he doesn’t care. He’s grateful for the rain, because it’s not very crowded. Baekhyun doesn’t fare well with crowds. Sometimes, Chanyeol is grateful Baekhyun can’t see. The stares would hurt him. There’s nothing to be done about the whispers though, but it doesn’t matter. Today the rain will eat them too.
They walk slowly up the hill. Chanyeol can see Baekhyun at the corner of his eyes, unusually focused on his surroundings as he tries to guess where Chanyeol has brought him. He smiles, unseen, wondering if Baekhyun remembers that promise from three years ago.
“So, do you ever plan to tell me where we’re going?” Baekhyun asks, the voice muffled by the fluffy scarf around his neck, a gift from Jongdae for his birthday, only two weeks ago. He extends a hand. “Looks like the rain has stopped. Ah, no, fuck!” A lonely drop falls on his forehead. “Where are we, Chanyeol?”
“I thought I told you to guess,” teases Chanyeol. “Come on, try!”
“Mmmh, we’re still outside. Don’t laugh, idiot, it’s not obvious for me. Is this a park? Do you want to take me to the Han River? To get drunk? Don’t you have a meeting at work tomorrow, Park Chanyeol?”
Chanyeol pretends to be offended. “I wouldn’t get drunk the day before a meeting, you think so lowly of me! And yes, this is a park.”
Baekhyun is quiet for a few seconds, when his face finally lights up as he breathes in the smell of rain, wet earth and…
“Roses! Is this a rose garden?” he asks, shaking excitedly.
Chanyeol claps, imitating the sound of a victory fanfare.
“That’s right! We’re at the Seoul Rose Festival.” He waits for the words to sink into Baekhyun, watches him open his mouth in awe as memories dawn on him until... he throws himself at Chanyeol, almost missing him.
“You remembered it,” he says, “you really remembered it Chanyeol, I can’t believe it!”
Next year- no, next year is too soon. In three years, in five years, in ten years and in fifteen years and in fifty years. Let’s meet again here, Baekhyun.
And now they’re here. It’s raining and cold and it’s terrible and the roses look really pathetic, shivering in the cold wind, but Baekhyun is sobbing into Chanyeol’s coat. Not really crying, just... sobbing. And muttering something about promises and Chanyeol being the best boyfriend ever and Chanyeol can’t help the soft sigh that escapes his lips, rolling down his chest, where the warmest feeling has finally settled up and is now spreading to Chanyeol’s entire body. “Ah, this is what it feels to do something right.”
Baekhyun lets him go only to show him his stern face. “What are you talking about? You always do things right, Park Chanyeol. You are the best boyfriend here, my boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, but I am definitely the luckiest.”
Baekhyun tiptoes to kiss him but stop just a breath away from Chanyeol’s lips. He looks self-conscious. He doesn’t dare to kiss Chanyeol in public, not even like this, in the rose tunnel when no one else is watching - oh, but Baekhyun doesn’t know no one else is watching, right? Chanyeol is the one who kisses him, and if someone is watching fuck them. He still can feel the scratches Baekhyun left on his shoulder two nights ago and he knows that somewhere, under that red, fluffy scarf, Baekhyun his hiding his own marks, old and new, all left by Chanyeol. He can kiss this boy if he wants. His boy, Chanyeol’s boy. He can kiss him and he does.
It’s a messy kiss and Baekhyun’s sunglasses are obnoxiously in the way so Chanyeol gets rid of them and enjoys the little, satisfied moan Baekhyun lets out when Chanyeol tugs at his upper lip with his teeth.
“The best,” Baekhyun repeats, and something sinks in Chanyeol’s heart. He licks the seam of Baekhyun’s lips, lowering the umbrella to protect them for prying eyes as the kiss becomes wetter, louder, hungrier, as Chanyeol tries to convey with his body what he struggles to put in words.
“Not really,” he says, when they part to breathe. He is far from being the best for Baekhyun, but somehow, he doesn’t really care about doing the right thing. He just wants to be with Baekhyun. “I wanted to ask you to marry me, Baekhyun, but look at this... It’s raining and cold and you’re all wet and I even managed to come home late today...”
Baekhyun looks, for a moment, terribly melancholic and terribly beautiful. The seconds he doesn’t say anything turn to centuries in Chanyeol’s mind, until he finally speaks. “You are, you... Silly you. Silly Chanyeol.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just tugs Chanyeol closer and parts his lips, a silent invitation. Chanyeol closes his eyes and drowns in the kiss.
They walk under the rain, and Mongryong pulls on the leash and whines pitifully to be let free. He doesn’t dare to do that with Baekhyun, but he knows he can afford to play with Chanyeol. He’s spoiled like that.
Baekhyun squeezes Chanyeol’s hand and stops. The cry of the rain is deafening. They’re alone under the umbrella, in their secret world where no one else is allowed to enter.
“You saved me, Chanyeol.”
But Chanyeol shakes his head because… There are many things Baekhyun can’t see.
“You saved yourself, Baekhyun.”
“But you were here with me, all this time, you never left me alone. You stayed. You never promised me eternal love but you never left me either. You told me you’d bring me to see the roses in May and you did it, and it’s more than everyone else in my life has ever done for me.”
Actions speak louder than words and Baekhyun speaks louder than both action and words. He takes Chanyeol’s face in his hands and leans his forehead against Chanyeol’s. His hair is wet and messy, his expression is soft. He is so casually charming, completely unaware. Chanyeol almost kisses him again.
“I don’t care that you’re not perfect, Chanyeol. I love you. I just love you.”
Chanyeol closes his eyes and lets the umbrella drop because he has to hug Baekhyun and hold him with both his hands, with all his body, as if he never wants to let him go. He still never wants to let him go.
“This year was a failure,” he says, voice tight and shaky, “but let’s come back here. Together. Next year. And the year later. And let’s get married someday.”
Baekhyun says yes.
Count Stats Visits
~
A/N:
-the pets are a Siberian Cat and a Labradoodle, a dog and a cat who don't shed and are really good for people with allergies (like Chanyeol). The Labradoodle was especially created to be a guide dog for blind people who had allergies.
-The Seoul Rose Festival exists and it's beautiful, if you visit Seoul in May think about paying it a visit!
-All hail the smut!
I hope you liked this fic as much as I did, it started to angsty and dark but the ending is so fluffy it doesn't even seem written by the same person. I have a weak heart *sigh*
And thank you for putting up with me. every kudos (here or on ao3), every comment, everyone who talked about this fic on twitter or recced it on tumblr really helped me. Thank you so much.
As usual, let me know what you think, leave a comment, message me, drop a word or two on twitter (@aprilclaws).. The only thing I want is to interact with my readers, so don't hesitate to talk with me. I've been told I am approachable and not scary and I love makign new friends!
Until the next time <3<3<3
<- part 4
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end.
― Gilda Radner
xviii. CONCUPISCENCE
(n) lust
Chanyeol doesn’t trust promises made of words, but this, he thinks, kissing Baekhyun on his eyes, nose and lips, he can believe in this. In Baekhyun’s warmth, the way he reacts to what Chanyeol is doing to him. The level of trust he’s showing, just by being there, naked, laid bare in front of Chanyeol for the first time. He’s shaking, little tremors running through his body, and Chanyeol would do anything to be able to see his face, but he can’t - oh, so this is what Baekhyun must be feeling right now - so he does what Baekhyun would do and kisses him again.
Baekhyun tilts his head and exposes his neck and pants, breathless, fighting against the intrusion of Chanyeol’s fingers inside him. Chanyeol touches him, slowly, feeling the tense plans of his chest, his stomach, the muscles rigid under his palm, coiling and contracting when Baekhyun’s insides clench around him.
“You’re too tense,” he says, in a whisper. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Really, Park Chanyeol? You said you were good at this, so make me feel good.”
Oh, he makes it sound so easy. Nothing is easy with Baekhyun, not even the things Chanyeol is really good at doing, like making people come apart under his hands. Baekhyun’s body is as stubborn as he is, reticent and uncommunicative and contradictory. It tenses around Chanyeol’s fingers and relaxes at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice.
“Like this, breathe, Baekhyun, Baekhyunnie, breathe slowly, it’s not gonna work if you don’t relax.”
“What if I can’t relax and it doesn’t work? What if I’m not good at sex what if...”
“If you suck at sex I’ll put your pretty mouth to use and teach you how to blow me,” he says, with a smile, and Baekhyun’s body unknots suddenly at the sound of his voice. Oh, Chanyeol could easily get drunk on the feeling of power rushing through him every time Baekhyun reacts to the sound of his voice.
“If this sucks I will be the one getting a consolatory blowjob, not you,” he says, stubbornly, and Chanyeol is so surprised he has to stop. “Was that a pun, Baekhyun?”
Baekhyun groans. “It wasn’t intentional, ok?”
And Chanyeol laughs and shifts closer and then suddenly Baekhyun is jerking up between a sigh and a sob. It could’ve been a cry if only he’d had enough air in his lungs.
“Feeling good already?”
There’s no answer to his question but the way Baekhyun locks his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, trying to drag him closer, is quite taletelling. Chanyeol teases Baekhyun open until the boy under him is a mess, finding that spot again until Baekhyun does scream.
He fumbles around the condom, has to actually find his phone first because it’s too dark and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and for a moment he’s glad Baekhyun can’t see him shaking, too busy with clenching around Chanyeol’s fingers again, tense again, too tense, too lost. Chanyeol leans down to pump his cock into full hardness in fast, tight jerks, until the pressure eases.
It is going to hurt. Even with all the teasing, the foreplay, all the preparation he did, it can’t be an easy fit. It’s Baekhyun’s first time and he’s quite tense, but Chanyeol kisses him again as he slips his fingers off him and rolls the condom on his own cock, smearing lube all over it. It feels heavy in his hands, so hard. He takes a deep breath to calm himself lest he spills in his own hand like an overexcited kid. Baekhyun is touching himself too, and panting, tiny little sounds at the back of his throat. He’s making things so difficult for Chanyeol.
His fingers are sticky with lube and sweat and nerves, but Baekhyun doesn’t seem to mind as he intertwines them with his own. He steals another kiss, to ease the tension between them, but it doesn’t really help.
Their first attempt is messy. The tip of Chanyeol’s dick catches on Baekhyun’s rim, but the boy clenches suddenly and his body rejects Chanyeol.
“Breath, Baekhyunnie, it’s just me.”
“It fucking hurts,” says Baekhyun, tight-lipped, hissing between his teeth when Chanyeol tries again. “But don’t stop,” he adds, as if Chanyeol was going to stop. If he was a tad less excited this would be a complete failure - he’s never taken well to criticism in the bedroom - but as things are, he just wants to fuck Baekhyun so bad there’s no way he’s going to lose the mood. He tries again and this time he can feel it, the breach, the way Baekhyun’s body adapts to his own. They both sigh, Baekhyun in pain and Chanyeol in bliss.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks. He’s shaking, he can feel it, his entire body is shaking from the effort to keep his hips still and not thrust inside Baekhyun, not even if he’s warm, tight and slick from all the lube and perfect.
Baekhyun sobs. He’s shaking too, like a bowstring, and Chanyeol doesn’t know whether he’s the arrow or the archer. “Next time,” Baekhyun says, breathless, “next time I’ll do the topping.” Chanyeol simply laughs at him,”Yes, if you want, whatever you want,” and sweeps down to steal another open-mouthed, messy kiss.
“Just move, it feels terrible.”
It is terrible, a little bit, like all first times are - and one day Chanyeol will tell Baekhyun about his first time just to make him feel better - but to Chanyeol this moment feels amazing, to the point he doesn’t know how much he’ll last.
The rhythm they build is shaky, unsure at first, and Baekhyun is tense and awkward and sounds like he doesn’t know what to do with the moans spilling from his lips, but he lets himself go when Chanyeol picks up the rhythm. He spreads his legs, arches his body, simply enjoys the feeling. He drags Chanyeol closer.
“It’s still terrible?” Chanyeol asks, surprising himself with the way he can still spell words right when the only thing filling his head is just thick desire, the primal instinct of the chase, in and out, wanting the end to come but at the same time hoping this moment can last forever.
“Faster,” answers Baekhyun, like a prayer, like a revelation, “Chanyeol, faster.”
Chanyeol can’t afford to slow down, but he thinks about it - would Baekhyun beg? Not today, not today but any other day, he should try and see what happens. He misses a bit and Baekhyun’s nails dig into his shoulder. “Don’t tease,” he says, low and angry and demanding, as if he just read Chanyeol’s mind.
Chanyeol can only comply, faster, faster, until his rhythm is faltering, messy and askew, and Baekhyun’s skin is so slick with perspiration Chanyeol’s fingers scramble for support, unable to anchor themselves on Baekhyun’s hip. It’s fast and it’s amazing and Chanyeol could spent the next fucking century in this bed, just fucking Baekhyun, but he feels the pleasure swimming past him and he drowns in it.
“Baekhyun-ah, I can’t- I won’t last. Touch yourself.”
He can barely feel Baekhyun sneaking a hand between their bodies to get a hold of himself and going over the edge with a soft, surprised cry. In the darkness, Chanyeol comes so hard he can see the stars.
xxix. NOESIS
(n)the psychological result of perception and learning and reasoning
Life is not a straight line, nor a crooked one. Life is not a prolonged amount of time. Life is a constellation of moments, of bright lights burned in our memories from our birth to our death, and the task of connecting the dots to reveal the final design is up to us. In the end, what happened is not important as much as what is remembered. The stars burn bright and everything else is cosmic dust.
Chanyeol might not own Baekhyun, but this moment… Chanyeol wants this to be one of those moments Baekhyun can turn up to when he feels sad, when he feels lonely, when he feels like he’s not enough. He wants Baekhyun to remember it, all of it. The cracking of the bed, the breeze coming from the open window. The taste of Baekhyun’s neck, salty and clean, adrenaline and endorphin. The feel of his arms wrapped around Chanyeol’s shoulders, hands linked just below his nape, and the feel of his skin, how it’s burning hot at Chanyeol’s touch, his muscles jumping when Chanyeol kisses him, like flying fish leaping outside the water to have a taste of the sky. The sound, oh, the maddening sounds Baekhyun makes, rising like the tidal wave and breaking on the shore in rivulets of breath, in foam, in moans. The sight. The indescribable sight. What is the sunset compared to Baekhyun’s blush, the redness spreading on his chest and neck, painting his face and ears pink. Eyes screwed shut, alone in the wake of sensation, but never really alone - not when Chanyeol is here - Baekhyun’s lips part and he’s like a blossom opening its petals for the first time. The scent of the dog-rose permeates the air.
xxx. CRYSTALIZE
(v) to make free from confusion or ambiguity; to make clear
Red blossoms in the shape of Chanyeol’s mouth on Baekhyun’s throat, on his lips, on the hollow of his collarbone and on his sternum. Red blossoms in the shape of Chanyeol’s hands on Baekhyun’s hips, on his shoulders, on his thighs. Red blossoms outside the window, when dawn breaks and colors the fog of the city crimson and gold.
Baekhyun is still fast asleep in that tangle mess of limbs and fabric that is his bed - their bed. His features are soft, his face a little swollen, in a way that tempts Chanyeol to bite it. It’s morning and he’s hard. He groans, shifting on the bed until he’s humping the mattress and not Baekhyun. He’s sure Baekhyun will wake up soon and nag at him, but it’s better to be scolded for defiling the bed than for defiling your boyfriend while he sleeps.
Baekhyun shifts too and his hand blindly searches the bed for Chanyeol’s body.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he says, and it comes out all raspy and throaty, on the verge of breaking on the last word. He groans when he sits up and then he blushes, remembering why his bottom hurts so much. From his privileged position on the bed, Chanyeol can see the flush spread on his chest. Very nice.
“I’m being considerate of your feelings,” he answers. Would it be too inconsiderate to jerk off next to Baekhyun? Asking for permission seems awkward, but what if he doesn’t ask and Baekhyun realizes anyway and nags at him?
“Which feelings?” Baekhyun sounds confused. He finally finds Chanyeol’s arm and pulls to get him to come closer.
“You get awfully grumpy in the mornings if I touch you without permission,” he explains. He carefully maintains his safety distance, lest he upsets Baekhyun causing him to be moody for the entire day.
“I do not,” declares Baekhyun. Chanyeol doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s pouting.
“You do,” he replies, finally deciding to wrap a hand against his half-hard cock.
“Is that why you’re masturbating next to me? But without me? To be considerate of my feelings?”
Oh, fuck. He realized.
Baekhyun chuckles, but he’s still so sleepy he reminds Chanyeol more of a low purr, an affectionate rumbles that rolls down his throat into the pillow. He follows Chanyeol’s arm until he finds his wrist, tugs until Chanyeol falls all over him and rolls his hips upwards to welcome him. They both groan at the sudden contact and Chanyeol thrusts back against him, forcing a deep, throaty moan out of Baekhyun.
He would fuck him like this, he realizes, when he’s still tender and raw from last night, his skin giving up easily under Chanyeol’s touch. Baekhyun angles his hips, biting a soft cry between his lips, and brings Chanyeol’s hand to his cock.
They’re not new to this, to touching, to teasing, but it’s the first time they’re doing it in broad daylight and Chanyeol can see everything, the heaving of Baekhyun’s chest, up and down, up and down, his lips, slick and parted and chapped from the last night, the way his cock twitch in Chanyeol’s hand, glistening with precum, when Chanyeol jerks him slow and tight.
Baekhyun’s expression is so unguarded, so raw and open and precious, that Chanyeol has to duck down and hide his head in the hollow between Baekhyun’s neck and shoulder while his face burn. He feels stupid because Baekhyun is his own and he has every right to look at him - he earned those right fairs and square. But looking at Baekhyun right now, his body naked, his face naked, his soul naked, all laid out and bare and helpless, caught in his own pleasure like a fish caught in a net, is impossible, it feels like looking at a miracle, at something unreal. Baekhyun is transcendent and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to do.
“I love you,” he says, and Baekhyun coils against him, arching his back so high it stops touching the bed and Chanyeol can wrap his other arm under him and push him upwards, reveling in the friction of Baekhyun’s thigh against his own cock. He closes his eyes when Baekhyun comes because he doesn’t think he deserves to see it, but he rocks him slowly through his orgasm and he drinks the sound Baekhyun makes, open-mouthed and wet, until he finally lets himself fall back against the damp sheets.
“Touch me,” he says, like a prayer. He opens his eyes and everything is still blurred, the need to come is fogging his vision at the edges, but he can see Baekhyun shining pink and gold as sunrise slowly melts into the blue sky.
Baekhyun touches him. His jaw, his neck. He twists a nipple, lazily, and Chanyeol ruts down against him and thinks about forcing Baekhyun’s hand down, around his cock. “Don’t tease,” he murmurs, an echo of the same words he received from Baekhyun the previous night, three fingers inside his boyfriend’s ass, teasing him until Baekhyun was on the verge of tears. And then later again, when he thought of making him beg. Now he’s not beyond begging himself. Baekhyun remembers that too and goes even slower, caressing Chanyeol’s abs, his hips. His nails dig at the small of Chanyeol’s back and then they slide down, fondling his ass.
“Byun Baekhyun, you either touch me now or...” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, just takes Baekhyun by the wrist and leads his fingers to his cock. Baekhyun giggles at his impatience, lazy and already sated, and Chanyeol would snarl at him if it could actually do him some good, but he knows it would only amuse Baekhyun more.
Baekhyun’s technique is clumsy and temptative. He likes it faster than Chanyeol does, but his grip is looser. His hands are softer than Chanyeol’s and there’s barely the friction he needs to come. He makes a needy, impatient noise at the back of his throat before closing his hand around Baekhyun’s and forcing him to hold tighter, harsher. His hips jerk, erratically, and when he leans his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder again his breath shatters in a gasp as Baekhyun says, with the tiniest voice Chanyeol has ever heard, “Come for me.”
Oh, Chanyeol does.
He doesn’t realize he was dozing off until Baekhyun shakes him awake.
“I’m sticky,” he says. “And you’re heavy.” He tries to sound grumpy, but there’s no real bite behind his words. On the contrary, when Chanyeol looks at him, Baekhyun is smiling. He’s bruised and tender all over, his skin is littered with mark bites and his hair a mess. But he smiles. The dawn has turned into early morning and the room is flooded with light, but there’s nothing as bright as his smile in Chanyeol’s world.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, long minutes drifting into half an hour of content slumber.
“Wanna sleep,” murmurs Baekhyun. “You?”
Chanyeol flexes his arms, feeling the blood slowly coming back. He feels like someone just poured honey inside his limbs, boneless.
“I want to fuck you again.”
Baekhyun turns his back to him to hide his smile, but Chanyeol props himself up on his elbow to see it, stretching his face.
“I never thought something like that would happen to me,” says Baekhyun and his voice doesn’t shake. “I just never thought someone would take the time... I mean. It took time. Not only the sex, everything. You got me roses on my birthday.” Now he’s barely making any sense but Chanyeol somehow understands. It’s too early for this conversation. Baekhyun’s lips are too red and swollen for these heavy words. “If you had asked me five years ago... Before you arrived... My past self would’ve laughed in your face. I was really convinced I would’ve never gotten the chance to... be like this with someone. Sex was something foreign. Going out was something abstract. I used to think romantic love existed to mock me, because I could never get a significant someone. I mean, I’m not unaware of what I am. I know myself. Who could ever like someone like me?”
Chanyeol. Chanyeol can. Chanyeol does.
“Five years ago, more or less, I started living alone,” he starts. Baekhyun’s hair is too long between his fingers. The boy leans into his touch, fitting perfectly in Chanyeol’s arms. Normally he would protest, morning moodiness and everything, but the orgasm has left him boneless, warm and lax against Chanyeol.
“Was it because you were gay?” he asks. “I mean, your mother seems to disapprove.”
Chanyeol scoffs. That’s quite a simple way to put it. “If you think my mother disapproves it’s only because you haven’t seen my father back then. He beat me, the day before I left, for the first time in his life.” And also the last. “And so I decided to leave. My parents thought I had a boyfriend and I was angry about the beating and that I would come home in a few days, like the other times I had run away from home.”
“There were other times?” asks Baekhyun, curious.
“Well, I was a very moody teenager. When something made me angry I slept at my friends’ houses for a few days, but I wouldn’t call that running away from home.”
Baekhyun shivers and Chanyeol pulls the blanket over them and sighs, knowing it’ll take hours to coax Baekhyun out of the warm bed afterwards, but he can’t help it. Baekhyun hums in contentment and Chanyeol twists his left nipple, just to tease him.
“Stop that, I’m ticklish!” he hisses, swatting one of Chanyeol’s wandering hands away from his chest. Chanyeol complies with a pout.
“Did you really leave because you had a boyfriend?” asks Baekhyun. He frowns, as if something is not adding up in his mind. “Have you ever had a boyfriend? You don’t seem like the type who would want a boyfriend.”
Accurate and sharp, that’s Chanyeol’s Baekhyun.
“I didn’t have a boyfriend. There were people in my life but I liked to fuck more than I liked to date. To be honest, I’ve always thought dating was for losers. What I mean is... I’ve never put so much effort into someone. I’ve never really found someone who was worth all this effort. Waiting five years for a boy to notice me? That’s stupid, isn’t it? But look at me now. You could say jump, and I’d jump. I’d really jump, Baekhyun.”
“Why?”
Ah, the very important question. The one Baekhyun has never dared to ask.
“Why me? Why us? I can’t believe you never met someone better than me.”
Chanyeol can’t believe it either. And yet... And yet. He doesn’t know where it started. Somewhere, along the lines of a fierce, deep hatred and fake, forced politeness. Between the rules of a game that kept changing and changing, a game none of them could win. At the bottom of a glass of cojinganmek, the first time Chanyeol got Baekhyun drunk, one windy night of May, one year ago, in front of the Han river. The night of Baekhyun’s birthday. The air was crisp and clear and Baekhyun’s face was blotched red from the evening air. He said many things. I feel alive. I want to dance. Can you believe we’re traveling in space? I think I’m a little in love with you.
Chanyeol’s relationship with Baekhyun used to be a straight, black line separating two people. Maybe that night, the ink was smudged. Where did it come from, that sudden desire to answer maybe I love you back hoping Baekhyun was too drunk to remember it the morning after? Chanyeol should’ve run away from such a dangerous thought. Instead, he leaned over and brushed Baekhyun’s fringe away from his forehead and he thought Baekhyun was the worst person for him and he was the worst person for Baekhyun.
They should’ve just fucked, he thought, to get the tension out of their system and go on with their lives, because there was no way two people like them could ever be together. Water and oil that’s what we are, he mused. And then, this game is becoming so old and boring, I should just end it. He got up, to tell Baekhyun, to not say these things, to not talk about love when he was drunk - especially when Chanyeol was drunk too and didn’t know how to react. His head was spinning so hard every word felt like it was coming from the center of the storm. He didn’t blink. “Maybe I love you back.”
In the end, Baekhyun was too drunk to remember those words, but Chanyeol doesn’t forget. The way he giggled and clung to his neck on their way back. The way he drooled on his shoulder, head lolling dangerously on one side, trying to whistle and failing, so warm, so warm.
Chanyeol remembers the sheer, insistent hunger he felt, to take Baekhyun home and fuck him like this, loose and lax, sprawled on the bed, so warm, so warm, to leave the morning after and never come back. He used to use sex like a weapon. To steal a moment and then leave and break up with people before they could even be together. He thought about breaking Baekhyun’s heart just because he could, to get rid of this insistent, swelling feeling in his chest.
But I’m not ready to let this go.
It was a fleeting, passing thought, so delicate, so fleeting, so powerful, like a revelation in the light of the night, so unlike everything Chanyeol had ever thought himself to be - manipulative, competitive, sly and ruthless, and selfish, above everything else - that Chanyeol had to stop for a moment to retrace the lines his tipsy mind was blurring. He breathed in and smelled Baekhyun. He looked at the cloudy sky and felt like he was the sky, looking at himself from a great distance, unable to recognize the person he was becoming. What are you doing, Park Chanyeol? Is he that important, for you to be so flustered? Get a grip over yourself.
Baekhyun fell asleep on his shoulder in the elevator and Chanyeol could only stare at his own, flabbergasted reflection, fifty-percent accusing and fifty-percent guilty. Once inside the house, he put Baekhyun to bed and finally collapsed against the door of the apartment, holding his head in his hands and wondering how far was he really going to go with Baekhyun. If he had been smart, he would’ve gone through that door to never come back. Chanyeol was smart, sometimes.
I’m not ready to let this go.
Sometimes he wasn’t. That was one year ago. Chanyeol he’s still deciding whether staying, that night, had been a smart move after all.
“Why aren’t you answering, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun is still waiting for an answer, but Chanyeol doesn’t really have one. He should’ve left Baekhyun a long time ago. He did try to leave Baekhyun a long time ago, when he realized he was getting attached, breaking his rule to never get emotionally involved with anyone, and Baekhyun had chased him back. Baekhyun, blind, angry and clueless, who showed up at Chanyeol’s door asking for help. And then, after that, the game, the game was the excuse. And then Chanyeol wasn’t ready, just another day, just another time. Baekhyun was just so endearing.
“I don’t know the right answer. I asked myself the same question, over and over, until one day I didn’t need to know the reason anymore. It just happened. Right now, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to let you go.”
xxxi. COMMENCEMENT
(n) the act of starting out, blazing a new trail
“Where are we going?”
“Ssssh, wait just a little...”
“Oh, come on, tell me!”
“It would ruin the surprise!”
“But I want to know!”
“You’re so impatient.”
“You’re so cruel!”
“You’re so cute!”
“You’re so impossible!”
A soft laugh. Chanyeol pouts and Baekhyun laughs again.
“That’s what I usually have to put up with,” he says, and it’s both fond and amused. Chanyeol makes a mental promise to never tease Baekhyun with surprise events again. This is torture. He wants to open his eyes so bad... Just a peek, that’s all he wants to do, Baekhyun would never know...
The car stops. He hears Baekhyun talking to Howon, his personal driver, “Can you... please?”. and one of the car doors is opened, then another. Howon is probably helping Baekhyun out.
“Can I open my eyes now?” he asks, in the whiniest tone he can muster. Baekhyun’s reply comes from outside the car. “Don’t you dare!”
Someone, Howon again, opens the door at Chanyeol’s right. “Can you get out on your own?”
Chanyeol can try. It’s a little difficult, to move without having any idea where he is. Maybe he should try one of Baekhyun’s mobility classes in the future, not because he really needs it but just to be able to know what Baekhyun feels. He almost trips on the ground - being blind is trickier than he expected - but Howon catches him and Chanyeol finally finds himself standing outside, on shaky feet. The sun is warm and the wind graces his face gently. He breathes grass, flowers and the expensive leather of the car interiors.
“Well, uhm, I’ll leave you two here. You can call me when you need to come back, sir.”
“Thank you, Howon-ah,” chirps happily Baekhyun. Chanyeol can hear the smile in his voice. Ah, he thinks, this is what Baekhyun must feel.
“Can I open my eyes now?” he asks, as petulant as he can, only because he knows Baekhyun will laugh and Baekhyun’s laugh is precious.
“Don’t you want to guess?” asks Baekhyun, the little tease. “Try once!”
“Well, we’re outside. A park? A garden? There are flowers around.” He can hear little children laughing happily and playing games, adult people talking. He can hear laughs and exclamations of surprise.
“Yes, that’s right. Can you tell me what kind of flowers?” Baekhyun is smiling, Chanyeol knows he is smiling and he can’t see it, and it’s maddening.
“How can I know? I’m not good with flowers, you’re the expert...”
“You should learn to recognize the fragrance of the flowers, at least. They’re important.”
Oh, this brings back memories. Baekhyun said something similar, when was it? Two years ago? The roses were in bloom, he still lived with his mother and... The roses!
Chanyeol opens his eyes and the sight makes him speechless. It steals the words from his mouth, one by one, and turns them into colors. Red, white, pink, bright magenta and molten gold There are colors everywhere. The roses are in bloom and Baekhyun’s smile is still more colorful than all the flowers in the garden.
“You opened your eyes,” says Baekhyun, because of course he would know. “But it seems like you managed to guess by yourself before you did it, so you’re forgiven. Do you know where we are now?”
Chanyeol knows. “The Seoul Rose Festival. Ah, I feel so lame now. I promised to take you here, didn’t I? And I completely forgot.”
Baekhyun’s smile widens. “Yes, you did. You’re a terrible boyfriend. But at least you have me, the most perfect boyfriend in the world.”
“The most beautiful,” says Chanyeol, “and dedicated, and passionate, and also a little bitch at times, but what’s life without spice?”
“You were going so well, but you ruined it at the end. So,” he says, and his cheeks are red, the tips of his ears even redder and the wing has messed up with his hair while Chanyeol wasn’t looking, “don’t you want to show me around?”
Chanyeol catches his hand like he would catch a butterfly. He holds it tight, dwarfed in his own, cradled in his warmth, and uses it to tug Baekhyun close. “I want to show you around the world. I want to give you everything.” And he’s so pathetic, so in love, saying cheesy things, ready to do cheesy stuff, like a loser. Maybe he is a loser, but he loves Baekhyun, who is soft and sharp, loud and warm, Baekhyun who has both beauty and thorns, just like a rose.
“Then do it, Chanyeol. Tell me about the roses, tell me about the sun and the clouds and the airplane trails in the sky. Tell me about everything. It’ll be alright, because it’s you.”
“Do you love me so much?” he asks, before he can stop himself.
Baekhyun doesn’t hesitate, not for a split moment.
“Yes, I do.”
He makes it sound so easy. But Chanyeol knows how difficult Baekhyun can be, how stubborn and self-deprecating and insincere and also how much of a coward, mean-spirited and ready to hurt before he can be hurt. Chanyeol knows the weight of this words. How long did Baekhyun cradle them in his mind, in the hollow between his ribs, at the tip of his tongue, too afraid to say them? Why did Chanyeol fail to notice he was getting ready to say them all along?
“Next year,” he says, “no, next year is too soon. In three years, in five years, in ten years and in fifteen years and in fifty years. Let’s meet again here, Baekhyun.”
It’s almost the end of May and the roses are in bloom and soon the spring will turn into summer and Chanyeol will take Baekhyun to the sea. Jeju Island maybe, or even farther, further, beyond the line of the horizon, chasing the sun on the other side of the world.
Baekhyun doesn’t know but Chanyeol has already planned everything. He wants to wait at least other six months. He wants to ask him to live together. Chanyeol wants to get Baekhyun a guide dog and call her Sandara. He wants Baekhyun to come with him at boring family dinners and rowdy company drinking nights. He wants Baekhyun, both with the tiny little steps and the big, warm gestures. He wants Baekhyun and he already has him, so he just has to stay quiet, keep his cool and wait for the right moment to actually come. Slowly, carefully, all of Baekhyun’s layers, all of Baekhyun’s defenses must be peeled to reveal the sweetness lying underneath, and the only person who can do this is...
“Chanyeol, let’s live together.”
Oh, well, seems like he beat me to it. Of course, it’s Baekhyun.
He says yes.
~Epilogue~
xxxii. HOPEFULNESS
(n) the feeling of having hope
Chanyeol feels terribly guilty for being late and he knows, he knows Baekhyun will nag at him. But when he opens the door and tiptoes inside the room, only Mongryong looks at him with accusing eyes. Sandara simply ignores all of them and goes back to her scratching post. Chanyeol pads through the room towards the bedroom and slowly pushes the door open to reveal the cocoon of blankets and warm skin that is his boyfriend, still in bed, pretending it’s not past midday and he’s not angry with Chanyeol for being late.
“Baekhyun-ah, I’m home,” he says softly, (he knows better not to shake him,) but Baekhyun simply turns his back to him and hides his head under the pillow. “Baekhyun-aaaah,” he repeats, adding a little whine, “come on, I’m not too late! Something happened at the office and I couldn’t leave earlier.”
Baekhyun emerges from his bed kingdom. He raises a questioning eyebrow when Chanyeol tells him to get up and takes approximately forever to roll out of bed and get dressed. Chanyeol tries not to tell him to hurry, even if he should hurry, because he knows Baekhyun would only point out it was Chanyeol’s fault in the beginning for coming home early and ruining their date.
“He’s so childish,” he says, to their pets. Mongryong scratches his ears, not really agreeing. Sandara ignores him. Their Siberian cat only loves Baekhyun. Chanyeol takes his revenge by picking her up, knowing she hates being petted by anyone but her only master Byun Baekhyun, and reminding her how much they paid for her fat ass.
“We only paid that much because someone is allergic to cats and needed a hypoallergenic cat. Don’t blame Sandara for your own shortcomings, Park Chanyeol.”
“I’m only letting you go because we’re already late and fighting about you would make us even later,” whispers Chanyeol to the cat before finally allowing her to escape.
“Have you finished antagonizing the pets?” asks Baekhyun, already on the door.
“Have you taken the dog?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
The sky was already dark since the early morning, but by the time they reach the venue it’s already started raining.
“Oh.” Chanyeol looks at the stormy clouds. He winces when lightning lifts the veil of darkness from the sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance. “This sucks.”
He circles the car, cursing at the misty, nasty drizzle attacking him from every direction, and opens the door on Baekhyun’s side. “Let me guess. Is it raining?” asks Baekhyun, in a mocking, know-it-all tone.
“Our Baekhyun has sharp ears. Don’t forget the umbrella, we’ll need it.”
The pathway is muddy and the sky is grey and it’s not cold, but a bit uncomfortable. Chanyeol takes the umbrella from Baekhyun and opens it, covering them both. He links arms with Baekhyun, keeping him close.
“So, would you tell me where we are, Chanyeol?”
“Mmmh, no? You can try and guess, since you’re so keen on being a smartass today.”
Baekhyun pinches him, annoyed. Chanyeol pinches him back. They walk towards the ticket stand and Chanyeol tells Baekhyun to wait and hold Mongryong as he buys two tickets. When he comes back, he finds Baekhyun chatting with a little girl with squishy cheeks and messy pigtails. He’s tilting his head down even if he can see her, out of habit, and he’s smiling at the way Mongryong pulls on the leash to smell her.
“Why are you wearing sunglasses if there’s not sun?” she asks, pointing her finger to the boy’s face. Her father rushes towards her and murmurs a quick apology. “Forgive her, she’s really nosy. Apologize, Min-ji!”
“No, it’s fine.” Baekhyun’s smile turns a little forced, but not enough to make it awkward. “I wear sunglasses because I can’t see and sometimes looking at me makes people uncomfortable.”
“Oh, that’s why you have the dog!” Baekhyun nods. “Can I pet him?” She moves towards Mongryong before Baekhyun can react and falls on her butt when the dog growls.
“Forgive him, he doesn’t really like to be touched by strangers...” Chanyeol can spot the uneasiness on his boyfriend. He grabs the ticket and quickly steps in, making his presence known with a fond, “Give me the umbrella, Baekhyun-ah.” He leaves the tickets in Baekhyun’s hand and takes the umbrella instead. It’s not big enough to shield them both, but he likes the idea of having to keep Baekhyun closer.
He can feel the eyes of the man in front of him, lingering on the inexistent space between them, and he can almost see the thoughts swimming in his head. He takes Baekhyun’s hand and holds it firmly. The line of the man’s jaw hardens. Their eyes meet and Chanyeol is not the one who looks away. “Come on Min-ji, mom is waiting... Say goodbye!”
She bows quickly. “Goodbye ahjussi! Have fun!”
“Sorry again if she bothered you, have a nice day!” says her father, and they both walk away quickly. Chanyeol glares at him until he’s disappeared.
“Thank you, my knight in a shining armor,” jokes Baekhyun. “For saving me from the monster!” He says it lightly, but Chanyeol knows he’s probably sensed the hostility from the child’s father. He doesn’t address it and nor does Chanyeol.
“Oh come on, she was an eight year old child, not a monster. You were handling her well.”
“The same can’t be said for Mongryongie,” he murmurs, crouching down to pet the Labradoodle. “I’m sorry buddy, I couldn’t stop her.”
“People are not supposed to pet a guide dog. Mongryongie did the only right thing and I’m proud of him. He’ll get treats later. “ He ignores Baekhyun’s whisper of, “She was only a child though,” to sneak a hand around his boyfriend’s shoulder and pull him close. He can feel people staring but he doesn’t care. He’s grateful for the rain, because it’s not very crowded. Baekhyun doesn’t fare well with crowds. Sometimes, Chanyeol is grateful Baekhyun can’t see. The stares would hurt him. There’s nothing to be done about the whispers though, but it doesn’t matter. Today the rain will eat them too.
They walk slowly up the hill. Chanyeol can see Baekhyun at the corner of his eyes, unusually focused on his surroundings as he tries to guess where Chanyeol has brought him. He smiles, unseen, wondering if Baekhyun remembers that promise from three years ago.
“So, do you ever plan to tell me where we’re going?” Baekhyun asks, the voice muffled by the fluffy scarf around his neck, a gift from Jongdae for his birthday, only two weeks ago. He extends a hand. “Looks like the rain has stopped. Ah, no, fuck!” A lonely drop falls on his forehead. “Where are we, Chanyeol?”
“I thought I told you to guess,” teases Chanyeol. “Come on, try!”
“Mmmh, we’re still outside. Don’t laugh, idiot, it’s not obvious for me. Is this a park? Do you want to take me to the Han River? To get drunk? Don’t you have a meeting at work tomorrow, Park Chanyeol?”
Chanyeol pretends to be offended. “I wouldn’t get drunk the day before a meeting, you think so lowly of me! And yes, this is a park.”
Baekhyun is quiet for a few seconds, when his face finally lights up as he breathes in the smell of rain, wet earth and…
“Roses! Is this a rose garden?” he asks, shaking excitedly.
Chanyeol claps, imitating the sound of a victory fanfare.
“That’s right! We’re at the Seoul Rose Festival.” He waits for the words to sink into Baekhyun, watches him open his mouth in awe as memories dawn on him until... he throws himself at Chanyeol, almost missing him.
“You remembered it,” he says, “you really remembered it Chanyeol, I can’t believe it!”
Next year- no, next year is too soon. In three years, in five years, in ten years and in fifteen years and in fifty years. Let’s meet again here, Baekhyun.
And now they’re here. It’s raining and cold and it’s terrible and the roses look really pathetic, shivering in the cold wind, but Baekhyun is sobbing into Chanyeol’s coat. Not really crying, just... sobbing. And muttering something about promises and Chanyeol being the best boyfriend ever and Chanyeol can’t help the soft sigh that escapes his lips, rolling down his chest, where the warmest feeling has finally settled up and is now spreading to Chanyeol’s entire body. “Ah, this is what it feels to do something right.”
Baekhyun lets him go only to show him his stern face. “What are you talking about? You always do things right, Park Chanyeol. You are the best boyfriend here, my boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, but I am definitely the luckiest.”
Baekhyun tiptoes to kiss him but stop just a breath away from Chanyeol’s lips. He looks self-conscious. He doesn’t dare to kiss Chanyeol in public, not even like this, in the rose tunnel when no one else is watching - oh, but Baekhyun doesn’t know no one else is watching, right? Chanyeol is the one who kisses him, and if someone is watching fuck them. He still can feel the scratches Baekhyun left on his shoulder two nights ago and he knows that somewhere, under that red, fluffy scarf, Baekhyun his hiding his own marks, old and new, all left by Chanyeol. He can kiss this boy if he wants. His boy, Chanyeol’s boy. He can kiss him and he does.
It’s a messy kiss and Baekhyun’s sunglasses are obnoxiously in the way so Chanyeol gets rid of them and enjoys the little, satisfied moan Baekhyun lets out when Chanyeol tugs at his upper lip with his teeth.
“The best,” Baekhyun repeats, and something sinks in Chanyeol’s heart. He licks the seam of Baekhyun’s lips, lowering the umbrella to protect them for prying eyes as the kiss becomes wetter, louder, hungrier, as Chanyeol tries to convey with his body what he struggles to put in words.
“Not really,” he says, when they part to breathe. He is far from being the best for Baekhyun, but somehow, he doesn’t really care about doing the right thing. He just wants to be with Baekhyun. “I wanted to ask you to marry me, Baekhyun, but look at this... It’s raining and cold and you’re all wet and I even managed to come home late today...”
Baekhyun looks, for a moment, terribly melancholic and terribly beautiful. The seconds he doesn’t say anything turn to centuries in Chanyeol’s mind, until he finally speaks. “You are, you... Silly you. Silly Chanyeol.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just tugs Chanyeol closer and parts his lips, a silent invitation. Chanyeol closes his eyes and drowns in the kiss.
They walk under the rain, and Mongryong pulls on the leash and whines pitifully to be let free. He doesn’t dare to do that with Baekhyun, but he knows he can afford to play with Chanyeol. He’s spoiled like that.
Baekhyun squeezes Chanyeol’s hand and stops. The cry of the rain is deafening. They’re alone under the umbrella, in their secret world where no one else is allowed to enter.
“You saved me, Chanyeol.”
But Chanyeol shakes his head because… There are many things Baekhyun can’t see.
“You saved yourself, Baekhyun.”
“But you were here with me, all this time, you never left me alone. You stayed. You never promised me eternal love but you never left me either. You told me you’d bring me to see the roses in May and you did it, and it’s more than everyone else in my life has ever done for me.”
Actions speak louder than words and Baekhyun speaks louder than both action and words. He takes Chanyeol’s face in his hands and leans his forehead against Chanyeol’s. His hair is wet and messy, his expression is soft. He is so casually charming, completely unaware. Chanyeol almost kisses him again.
“I don’t care that you’re not perfect, Chanyeol. I love you. I just love you.”
Chanyeol closes his eyes and lets the umbrella drop because he has to hug Baekhyun and hold him with both his hands, with all his body, as if he never wants to let him go. He still never wants to let him go.
“This year was a failure,” he says, voice tight and shaky, “but let’s come back here. Together. Next year. And the year later. And let’s get married someday.”
Baekhyun says yes.
Count Stats Visits
~
A/N:
-the pets are a Siberian Cat and a Labradoodle, a dog and a cat who don't shed and are really good for people with allergies (like Chanyeol). The Labradoodle was especially created to be a guide dog for blind people who had allergies.
-The Seoul Rose Festival exists and it's beautiful, if you visit Seoul in May think about paying it a visit!
-All hail the smut!
I hope you liked this fic as much as I did, it started to angsty and dark but the ending is so fluffy it doesn't even seem written by the same person. I have a weak heart *sigh*
And thank you for putting up with me. every kudos (here or on ao3), every comment, everyone who talked about this fic on twitter or recced it on tumblr really helped me. Thank you so much.
As usual, let me know what you think, leave a comment, message me, drop a word or two on twitter (@aprilclaws).. The only thing I want is to interact with my readers, so don't hesitate to talk with me. I've been told I am approachable and not scary and I love makign new friends!
Until the next time <3<3<3