post #37
TL;DR RULES
1. post anonymously unless linking to a fill posted somewhere else
2. use the subject line to indicate pairing (in alphabetical order using stage names i.e.baekhyun/chanyeol) prompt details go in the comment.
3. use necessary content warnings
4. do not embed on meme. link to images/videos. label nsfw content.
5. do not repost prompts ( Read more... )
1. post anonymously unless linking to a fill posted somewhere else
2. use the subject line to indicate pairing (in alphabetical order using stage names i.e.baekhyun/chanyeol) prompt details go in the comment.
3. use necessary content warnings
4. do not embed on meme. link to images/videos. label nsfw content.
5. do not repost prompts ( Read more... )
But he’s used to it, of course. Used to being pushed around, kicked around, and getting his ribs smashed in because he thinks it’s the least he can do for Chanyeol. After the first blow, it’s more of a dull pummel against his chest and the wetness of Chanyeol’s tears soaking through his shirt, and it’s a game of endurance that neither of them will end up winning-only losing.
He takes the first hit in stride; lets Chanyeol swing his fist, and as much as instinct tells him to whirl back to dodge the hand flying towards his cheek with reflexes honed from years of fighting and doing this kind of crap that has his mom yelling at him every night because he isn’t who she wants him to be (never has been), he doesn’t move. He stands still. He yields because he wants to and he has to. Sure, it’s a little bit embarrassing and pathetic that he’s older than Chanyeol-sixteen days is still older-and he’s taller and looks every bit more menacing and mean compared to Chanyeol’s cute, flower boy looks, but he lets Chanyeol push him around because he has to.
It’s sort of like this: If you had ruined someone’s life, the only repercussion would be to let them ruin yours. It’s a simple theory, the principles of ‘do unto others’ and ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth,’ and when Chanyeol’s fist connects with his face and he hears the resounding sound of skin slapping skin, apart from the first hit, it doesn’t hurt. It’s weird now, that they (probably) hate each other, so much so that Chanyeol tells him one day that even his face makes him feel sick to the pit of his stomach, and he knows why, he understands why, but really, it’s not his fault, is it? It hadn’t been his fault that Chanyeol had a dream, a stupidly farfetched, ambitious dream for a fifteen year old boy to imagine, the type that only happened in stories. It hadn’t been his fault that Chanyeol had wanted to leave, nor had it been his fault that they had always been friends and Chanyeol leaving meant that they wouldn’t be anymore. It hadn’t been his fault that he had been scared that Chanyeol would forget him, because forgetting meant that he hadn’t been important enough to Chanyeol, that maybe Chanyeol hadn’t loved him like he loved Chanyeol, and the thought was too scary to let it happen so he didn’t. It hadn’t been his fault that Chanyeol had spat out a tooth and some blood when he had kicked Chanyeol’s face in-okay, maybe it had-and it hadn’t been his fault when he had stamped on Chanyeol’s elbow so hard that there had been a sickening crack of bone, and that he had left Chanyeol there, curled up in a puddle of dirt and his own blood, seeping through the crisp white of his uniform like a stain on his conscience. Subconsciously, maybe he had intentionally wanted to break Chanyeol’s arm so he couldn’t go to bloody fucking America to play his bloody fucking basketball because obviously, here wasn’t good enough for Chanyeol, like how he wasn’t good enough for Chanyeol (never had been), but it hadn’t been his fault.
“You shouldn’t have wanted to leave,” is all he says when Chanyeol’s fist falls back to his side, shaking, and the pain is lingering; it’s still there from when five years ago when Chanyeol had screamed and ripped out his IV drip from his hand and almost smashed his face in right there in the hospital room.
Chanyeol sneers at him. His lips are pressed tightly together, trembling. “Oh, so it’s my fault now, Kris?” he says. Kris thinks he sounds more sad than angry. “It’s my fault that you’ve ruined my life? It’s my fucking fault that you’ve stolen everything from me? Well, of-fucking-course it is. How could I be so stupid? It’s always been about you, hasn’t it?”
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After Chanyeol leaves, Zhang-seonsaengnim comes with a breathless Baekhee in tow, and he asks Kris if he’s okay. Kris (can’t get the image of Chanyeol out of his mind, never can) nods and says that yes, he is okay, but he isn’t, not really. Neither of them are okay, and it makes Kris sick that he’s the one being victimised in all this when he doesn’t deserve it at all.
#
Things get better. Things between them aren’t patched up, but it gets better, and now, it’s more of a ‘I want to punch your guts out’ rather than ‘I want you to die’ sort of thing between Chanyeol and him.
Kris knows things get better when Jongin picks on him again after class.
“Hey,” he’s like, and when Kris doesn’t respond, he kicks at Kris’s shin and grabs his rucksack off the table, flinging it to the floor. “Fucking look at me, bastard,” he says.
“What,” Kris says tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. A laugh ripples through the rest of the class and Jongin’s ears flush red in humiliation from being embarrassed by a boy who can’t even answer a simple maths question properly because to him, sleep is much more important than ever getting into Seoul University.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jongin says. “It’s Monday, and Monday is bread day. You bought bread for Chanyeol, and Chanyeol’s my bitch, so by default, you’re my bitch. What are you waiting for?”
Something like anger and fury boils up in Kris’s gut. Something about Jongin’s fucking attitude pisses him off because Jongin thinks he’s hot shit. He thinks he’s so much better than Chanyeol and Kris when Kris knows that Chanyeol could knock him down and break all his ribs with a single finger, and still, Jongin thinks he’s hot shit. He’s so fucking pissed right now but they’re in class and it’s not the right time and as much as he wants to explode and smash Jongin’s skull right in, he can’t, so he blinks and pillows his head back on his arms again, turning to face the window. He hears a little noise of indignation from Jongin at that and Joonmyeon trying to pacify him, saying, “Maybe…you shouldn’t try to provoke him anymore,” and Kyungsoon telling everyone to shut the hell up so she can study as they’re all ooh’ing and ahh’ing at the tense silence between them.
There’s a moment, and then Jongin’s leaning so close that Kris can feel his scum, bastard breath on his neck, and he says, “Watch your back later,” before he turns on his heel and shoves Joonmyeon out of the way, Sehun and Tao scurrying after him.
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It turns into a messy brawl real quickly, and they’re wrestling each other on the floor, and whereas Kris is a fighter by definition with his well-aimed hits and experience, Jongin is brute force and a lot stronger than Kris is, so he has the upper hand and pins Kris to the ground, panting above him. His lip his curled into a smirk and he says, “Well, look who’s fucking laughing now?
And there’s a voice: “I am,” before Jongin is pulled of Kris and thrown to the side. It’s Chanyeol, standing there in all his 185cm glory and he offers his hand to Kris, who accepts it gratefully and wipes the blood away from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What do you fucking think you’re doing?” Chanyeol says. “Kris is my bitch. Only I’m allowed to fuck him up. Get out of my face.”
He stares at Jongin hard and cocks his head, a silent What are you waiting for? and Jongin scowls at him, motioning for Sehun to follow as he leaves with his head haughtily upturned and blood dripping from his nose. Kris feels awkward like this, standing there watching Jongin’s retreating figure and Chanyeol staring right back, eyes unreadable.
“…Thanks,” he says quietly, reaching out for Chanyeol’s hand.
Chanyeol brushes it away. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, but he doesn’t look sad anymore, not as much as before. “Don’t forget that you’re my bitch, and no one else’s. No one else can touch you like I can.”
“That’s romantic,” Kris says.
“Like I said, don’t flatter yourself,” repeats Chanyeol.
Things feel a little bit better when Chanyeol walks away and Kris smiles to himself because he thinks that yeah, things are a little bit better now.
#
And then, things get a lot better.
It’s from the exhilaration, Kris tells himself, and that they still haven’t come down from their high when they’re laughing together, running onto the bus just as the door slides shut and the thugs are left outside, banging on the window. Kris looks back; they’re getting smaller and smaller until he can’t even see them and all that there is is the weight of Chanyeol’s hand on his shoulder, heavy. It’s a simple gesture, but it’s significant. It’s not forgiveness, not quite, not yet, but he’s on the way and they’re getting there.
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Omg anon let me love you with all my life cries
I've been wanting to read this au on krisyeol pairing forever and I think yours is the first one.
I like it very much, it's kind of subtle, chanyeol seems so mean and sad here, and kris is just asdfghjkl when chanyeol says "you're my bitch"
and I ++++infinity you because kyungsoon and baekhee (>̯͡⌣<̯͡) and teacher zhang and ofc jongin and his minions lol. They fit perfectly!
Anyway thank you thank you thank you for the amazing fills!
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