[oneshot] until the morning brightens [i/ii]
i.
baekhyun wakes up to the sound of someone saying something foreign and all he can make out in his barely conscious state is the word signore. he rubs his bleary eyes lazily, a yawn threatening to escape his lips. it’s rather quiet and he feels cold in his two layers of clothings. he looks up and finds a girl wearing an apron smiling apologetically at him, once again saying something he can’t comprehend. he blinks and looks at his surrounding. there is another girl sweeping the floor near the entrance door wearing similar attire to the girl in front of him and then he realizes that there are an empty mug and a plate of half-eaten lasagna sitting still on a small table in front of him. he can hear a faint sound of radio playing an italian song he can’t recognize from the counter, a clock ticking away on the wall telling him that it’s past ten p.m. and only then does it dawn on him that he’s fallen asleep in the middle of his dinner. in front of him, the girl - a waitress, repeats her words patiently.
non capisco, non parlo italiano, baekhyun manages to stutter in his korean-accented italian, but he takes out his wallet anyway and gives her some euros to pay his dinner. mi dispiache, he apologizes softly as he leaves. the air outside is chilling and turns his breath into white smokes. he slips his freezing hands into his coat’s pockets in attempt to get some warmth but to his dismay it can only give him a little more warmth. the hotel he’s staying at is three blocks away so he rushes, thinking about the warm and comfy bed waiting for him, a smile rises from the corners of his lips.
the bed’s all made up when he arrives seven minutes later. he takes off his shoes, puts his coat on the couch and puts the heater on. he looks around and lets a sigh escapes his lips when only silence greets him back. the sudden feeling of loneliness wraps his body, infiltrates his skin like a lethal venom rushing in his blood, spreading into all over his system. he hugs himself and sits on the bed. after a deep intake of breath he takes out his phone from his pants’ pocket, dials a number he knows by heart with his numbing fingers and waits.
the number you are calling is not active or out of the service area. please call again later or leave your message after the beep.
the simple beep sounds too harsh in his ear. chanyeol, he breathes out, rome is really beautiful.
he lays down on the bed and closes his eyes. but of course it gets boring without you, he chuckles, then he pauses. he can feel something welling up in his eyes, but he quickly shakes the feeling away. like i said before i’ll send you postcards to make you jealous, he continues, have my london and munich postcards reached you safely? he stops and waits for a few heartbeats but the only thing that greets him back is silence. sleep approaches him gently and he finally surrenders, hanging up the call and once again solitude hugs him close like an old friend.
he wakes up the next morning and raises from the bed slowly. he parts the curtain slightly and takes a peek outside the window, blinking his bleary eyes. outside, the life has begun in rome but the sky is dim and it’s been like that for awhile; now that he thinks about it, mornings seem to be darker these days.
after breakfast baekhyun buys a postcard with a picture of the colosseum, writes i miss you in a neat hangeul and sends it to seoul.
ii.
amsterdam is full of life.
baekhyun buys himself a strand of bright orange tulips from a floral vendor in bloemenmarkt and takes a leasure walk around the town. he visits grachtrngordel, the rijksmuseum, and the van gogh museum where he tries to imitate various poses from the paintings and gains several weird looks from the other visitors.
he goes to the concertgebouw on the third day and imagines himself standing on the stage with all the spotlights shine on him while he soars as he sings his heart out, the royal concertgebouw orchestra accompanying his performance beautifully. he imagines thousands pairs of eyes are all on him, mouths agape in awe of his performance, and he would see chanyeol in the front row smiling that wide stupid smile of his and cheering the loudest as if he’s in an out-door pop star concert and not in one of the best concert halls in the world, and baekhyun knows he would smile back even wider.
he takes tons of pictures of windmills and flower gardens, all colorful and bright. sometimes he asks the the passerby to take his photos. he smiles so bright his eyes turn into a pair of crescent moons, posing in cheesy poses he knows chanyeol would’ve made him do if he were there.
at night he lays on the bed, dials chanyeol’s number and records his voice mail for the umpteenth time. he curls up to himself and closes his eyes, indulges himself into yet another dreamless sleep as he waits for the first light of the day to come.
on the last day, he goes to the westerkerk and prays.
this time he doesn’t send chanyeol a postcard. instead, he sends one of his photos with a huge windmill as the background and simply writes a single syllable of hangeul.
와
(come.)
iii.
champs-élysées fascinates baekhyun.
he shops at the disney store, visits place de la concorde and arc de triomphe and other places with the names he can’t pronounce correnctly while hummimg aux champs-élysées cheerfully. he also manages to get to the louvre and montmarte despite his non-existent french skill and finally at the evening of his second day he stands in front of the eiffel tower. after taking photos, he buys two mini eiffel tower keychains and a postcard from a souvenir shop nearby and put them safely into his backpack.
on the fourth night, his phone rings. he stares at the caller id.
xiao lu.
the name instantly makes his stomach churns and he feels as if his heart’s dropped, his mind screaming to just ignore the call although deep down inside he knows he has to answer it. he bites his lower lip and takes a lungful of air. lu han hyung? he answers after the fifth ring.
baekhyun, lu han says in a mix of relief and worry and anger and everything else, we’re worried sick you fool, where the hell are you?
baekhyun sits on the rough carpeted floor against the side of his bed, running his hand on his dishevelled hair. i’m in paris now, is all he can say and he can hear lu han sighs on the other line. what are you doing there, come back.
he doesn’t answer.
baekhyun.
he buries his face on his knees as a flood of broken memories invade his mind and he wants it to fucking stop now because he’s sick of all of this and he’s been hurt and he can’t take it anymore -
baekhyun. is it about chanyeol?
he hangs up.
baekhyun sends another postcard with a keychain and another piece of his heart the next day. on the postcard, a shaky and blurred je t’aime is written.
iv.
he finally meets chanyeol in barcelona.
he gets lost on his way back from nou camp to his hotel after he watched el classico match between barcelona fc and real madrid and before he knows it the street becomes too foreign and he has no idea where the way back is. his throat is sore from screaming and parts of his body ache from exhaustion. people seamlessly walk past by him and he can only stand still, the feeling of helplessness and fear are starting to sink in until suddenly he feels himself being dragged away from the crowd by a tall man wearing dark-colored jeans and a matching jacket, his face shadowed by the hood over his head.
how many times do i have to tell you to be careful in crowded streets, the man tsks as he turns around to face baekhyun when they’re already in a less crowded part of the street, why are you so careless?
the man pulls the hood off his head and when he smiles, the world stops spinning and the rest of the world is blurring away around him. chanyeol.
in front of him park chanyeol is grinning all teeth, eyes full of life with the left side twitching up forming an odd yet unmistakably chanyeolish expression on his handsome face.
i’ve been looking for you, baekhyun says shakily after he can find his voice back, i’ve been looking for you.
chanyeol’s eyes soften and he gently pulls baekhyun into his arms, placing a soft kiss on the smaller’s forehead. i know, he mumbles, i’m really sorry. and baekhyun wants to hit him so hard for making him waiting and for making him sad and angry and happy but all he can do is to pull the taller man closer to his heart and cries against the soft fabric of his jacket, repeating stupid stupid stupid and a lot more of i love yous in between.
they go around the city and visit several tourist attractions (antoni gaudí is a genius, baekhyun comments in awe at sagrada família) and stroll along la rambla. one evening after they watch an amazing opera at gran teatre del liceu, chanyeol takes his hand and dance with him in a crowded street on their way back and baekhyun thinks he’s crazy and he can’t understand why he’s laughing anyway and lets chanyeol lead him dancing boisterously under the sparkling stars and pairs of gazes given by the passerby, but he doesn’t care and starts singing the beautiful aria they’ve just watched in the opera sloppily.
the time comes to a halt as they kiss; the world stands still in front of a reunion between two parts of a broken soul.
on the sixth day they go back to la rambla. chanyeol insists on drinking from font de canaletes and whines for double chocolate strawberry ice cream when they pass an ice cream parlour. baekhyun sighs but agrees anyway and walks toward the parlor to buy a cone and struggles to find the right words in broken english and even more broken spanish. he’s finally finished paying and is taking the ice cream from the kind woman when he hears a voice behind him.
baekhyun oppa?
he turns around and finds a girl with a long auburn hair wearing a black hoodie with the word exo imprinted on it standing in front of him, her wide eyes staring straight at him.
oh my god it’s really you, she gasps in her accented and broken korean, what are you doing here, oppa? are you alone?
his eyes sweeps the street but chanyeol is nowhere to be seen. he averts his gaze back to the girl and shakes his head hesitantly. do i know you?
she offers him a shy smile as her cheeks turn a shade redder. i’m exo’s fan.
oh, he replies dumbly, thanks.
where are the others, oppa? who did you come with? she asks curiously as she peers over his shoulder, both eyebrows raised.
i came with chanyeol, but looks like he’s off somewhere, he looks around then offers her a smile, probably to the bathroom. he should be back soon.
his answer seems to surprise her. chanyeol oppa? she echoes.
baekhyun nods. yes, i’m with chanyeol. estoy con chanyeol, he adds in broken spanish with a sheepish smile. the girl falls silent at his answer, her gaze drops to the ground and something inside him tells him to leave now and it’s weird, because this girl looks harmless enough and where is chanyeol anyway?
i’m so sorry, baekhyun oppa, the girl says finally with a trembling voice as tears stream down her cheeks, i’m so sorry.
in his hand, the ice cream melts away and travels along his exposed skin until the gravity pulls it to the ground. why are you sorry, baekhyun hears himself asking, feeling lost. why are you crying?
he finds chanyeol back in the hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring into space. when he notices his arrival, the taller man silently approaches him and pulls him into his arms.
chanyeol sings him spanish lullabies that night and baekhyun holds onto him tightly under the sheets, refusing to let go.
sleep, baekhyun, chanyeol murmurs. baekhyun shakes his head in response, burying his face deeper into the crook of chanyeol’s neck. no.
chanyeol sighs. it’s midnight soon.
what’s wrong with midnight, baekhyun replies nonchalantly, we used to stay up all night to practice. he pauses and thinks of sleepless nights of seemingly endless dancing and singing about platonic love and broken hearts.
it’s midnight soon, chanyeol simply repeats in a whisper, brushing his lips against baekhyun’s forehead. close your eyes, baekhyun.
why should i, baekhyun chokes out. something tugs at his heart and there are too many unspoken words die on the tip of his tongue. stay, he whispers - pleas, fingers tugging onto the hem of chanyeol’s off-white iron man t-shirt, nails digging deeper because he’s scared, because he’s hurt and he’s broken and chanyeol is responsible for all of this and he’s not letting him go ever again.
because he’s selfish and he loves chanyeol too much.
tomorrow you’ll leave, chanyeol says softly, tomorrow you’ll go back to seoul.
baekhyun looks up at him questioningly. we’re going back tomorrow?
a smile plays on chanyeol’s lips. there’s something in his eyes that makes baekhyun’s heart clench. close your eyes, baek.
baekhyun shakes his head and tries to say something, anything, but he’s all choked up and his eyes are brimming with tears. shh, don’t cry, chanyeol whispers and leans in to kiss baekhyun’s eyelids gently. i love you. you know that, right?
baekhyun flutters his eyes shut and they’re at the sm bulding rooftop, hands resting on the cold metal railing while gazing at the sea of stars above. chanyeol has his arm around his shoulders and from the darkeness he sees himself smiling. tell me, he says as he tears his gaze away from the stars and averts it to the taller man, what is so important that you have to drag me all the way up here?
chanyeol looks at him and smiles bashfully. i’ve been thinking how to do this and you know our schedule is tighter than jongin’s pants and i think you’ve already known what i’m going to say anyway so what i’m saying is -
stop babbling, stupid, baekhyun cuts him off wryly, i’ve already got terrible headache from memorizing the chinese lyrics of wolf.
i love you, chanyeol blurts out, hands covering his eyes in embarrassment. at that moment baekhyun is stunned, eyes widen yet his lips are pressed shut, and he remembers the strange sensation of butterflies merrily flapping their wings in his stomach and then as if on cue, he can hear a sound of explosion from afar and as he gazes into the distance, colorful fireworks are all over the starry sky. he averts his gaze back to chanyeol who’s staring wide-eyed at the sight with mouth slightly ajar. still stunned, he punches the taller’s arm playfully. did you plan this?
chanyeol shakes his head slowly as he stares back at him, no. as much as i want to say i did, he pauses and baekhyun can see his cheeks turn a few shades redder. i guess god planned this, chanyeol adds shyly. baekhyun looks away as heat crawls under his skin to his cheeks. you’re so cheesy, park chanyeol.
a comfortable silence falls as they watch the stunning sight until chanyeol finally regains his courage and asks, so what do you say?
baekhyun stares at him. what do i say to what?
stupid, chanyeol mutters under his breath and leans in to press his lips against baekhyun’s. the kiss is chaste and brief, but it’s enough to put baekhyun’s heart on a whirl. when chanyeol pulls away, there’s a smile playing on his lips. i love you. you know that, right?
baekhyun shudders as a strong wind blows past him and the rooftop turns into a dark alley with only stars and a full moon illuminating the narrow path. the alley feels terribly familiar and he suddenly feels a feeling similar to asphyxiate. he stumbles forward and sees two figures at the end of the alley, one of them is crying while the other lays helpless on the cold ground, his head rested on the man’s lap. the man laying on the ground covered in so much red baekhyun feels sick.
please, they’ll be here soon, please stay with me please please please, he can hear the crying man chokes out, holding the other’s hand close to his heart. you’re not going to leave me, are you?
in the distance he can hear the sound of sirens roaring in the silence of the night. the dying man chokes blood as he smiles to the crying man and says something baekhyun can’t hear. eventually the man takes his last breath and suddenly everything is blurring away until all that’s left is darkness.
chanyeol? he tries. the stillness scares him.
don’t open your eyes, he faintly hears chanyeol whisper, it’s going to be okay.
baekhyun looses his fingers on his grip as he quivers. the air suddenly feels too cold and foreign and the tears spilling from the corners of his eyes has never tasted so bitter. you’ll be here when i wake up, won’t you?
an utter silence answers him and soon consciousness eventually leaves him. in a matter of seconds, he’s fallen yet again into a deep, dreamless slumber.
(you won’t leave me again, will you?)
v.
the number you are calling is not active or out of the service area, please call again or leave your message after -
I / II
baekhyun wakes up to the sound of someone saying something foreign and all he can make out in his barely conscious state is the word signore. he rubs his bleary eyes lazily, a yawn threatening to escape his lips. it’s rather quiet and he feels cold in his two layers of clothings. he looks up and finds a girl wearing an apron smiling apologetically at him, once again saying something he can’t comprehend. he blinks and looks at his surrounding. there is another girl sweeping the floor near the entrance door wearing similar attire to the girl in front of him and then he realizes that there are an empty mug and a plate of half-eaten lasagna sitting still on a small table in front of him. he can hear a faint sound of radio playing an italian song he can’t recognize from the counter, a clock ticking away on the wall telling him that it’s past ten p.m. and only then does it dawn on him that he’s fallen asleep in the middle of his dinner. in front of him, the girl - a waitress, repeats her words patiently.
non capisco, non parlo italiano, baekhyun manages to stutter in his korean-accented italian, but he takes out his wallet anyway and gives her some euros to pay his dinner. mi dispiache, he apologizes softly as he leaves. the air outside is chilling and turns his breath into white smokes. he slips his freezing hands into his coat’s pockets in attempt to get some warmth but to his dismay it can only give him a little more warmth. the hotel he’s staying at is three blocks away so he rushes, thinking about the warm and comfy bed waiting for him, a smile rises from the corners of his lips.
the bed’s all made up when he arrives seven minutes later. he takes off his shoes, puts his coat on the couch and puts the heater on. he looks around and lets a sigh escapes his lips when only silence greets him back. the sudden feeling of loneliness wraps his body, infiltrates his skin like a lethal venom rushing in his blood, spreading into all over his system. he hugs himself and sits on the bed. after a deep intake of breath he takes out his phone from his pants’ pocket, dials a number he knows by heart with his numbing fingers and waits.
the number you are calling is not active or out of the service area. please call again later or leave your message after the beep.
the simple beep sounds too harsh in his ear. chanyeol, he breathes out, rome is really beautiful.
he lays down on the bed and closes his eyes. but of course it gets boring without you, he chuckles, then he pauses. he can feel something welling up in his eyes, but he quickly shakes the feeling away. like i said before i’ll send you postcards to make you jealous, he continues, have my london and munich postcards reached you safely? he stops and waits for a few heartbeats but the only thing that greets him back is silence. sleep approaches him gently and he finally surrenders, hanging up the call and once again solitude hugs him close like an old friend.
he wakes up the next morning and raises from the bed slowly. he parts the curtain slightly and takes a peek outside the window, blinking his bleary eyes. outside, the life has begun in rome but the sky is dim and it’s been like that for awhile; now that he thinks about it, mornings seem to be darker these days.
after breakfast baekhyun buys a postcard with a picture of the colosseum, writes i miss you in a neat hangeul and sends it to seoul.
ii.
amsterdam is full of life.
baekhyun buys himself a strand of bright orange tulips from a floral vendor in bloemenmarkt and takes a leasure walk around the town. he visits grachtrngordel, the rijksmuseum, and the van gogh museum where he tries to imitate various poses from the paintings and gains several weird looks from the other visitors.
he goes to the concertgebouw on the third day and imagines himself standing on the stage with all the spotlights shine on him while he soars as he sings his heart out, the royal concertgebouw orchestra accompanying his performance beautifully. he imagines thousands pairs of eyes are all on him, mouths agape in awe of his performance, and he would see chanyeol in the front row smiling that wide stupid smile of his and cheering the loudest as if he’s in an out-door pop star concert and not in one of the best concert halls in the world, and baekhyun knows he would smile back even wider.
he takes tons of pictures of windmills and flower gardens, all colorful and bright. sometimes he asks the the passerby to take his photos. he smiles so bright his eyes turn into a pair of crescent moons, posing in cheesy poses he knows chanyeol would’ve made him do if he were there.
at night he lays on the bed, dials chanyeol’s number and records his voice mail for the umpteenth time. he curls up to himself and closes his eyes, indulges himself into yet another dreamless sleep as he waits for the first light of the day to come.
on the last day, he goes to the westerkerk and prays.
this time he doesn’t send chanyeol a postcard. instead, he sends one of his photos with a huge windmill as the background and simply writes a single syllable of hangeul.
와
(come.)
iii.
champs-élysées fascinates baekhyun.
he shops at the disney store, visits place de la concorde and arc de triomphe and other places with the names he can’t pronounce correnctly while hummimg aux champs-élysées cheerfully. he also manages to get to the louvre and montmarte despite his non-existent french skill and finally at the evening of his second day he stands in front of the eiffel tower. after taking photos, he buys two mini eiffel tower keychains and a postcard from a souvenir shop nearby and put them safely into his backpack.
on the fourth night, his phone rings. he stares at the caller id.
xiao lu.
the name instantly makes his stomach churns and he feels as if his heart’s dropped, his mind screaming to just ignore the call although deep down inside he knows he has to answer it. he bites his lower lip and takes a lungful of air. lu han hyung? he answers after the fifth ring.
baekhyun, lu han says in a mix of relief and worry and anger and everything else, we’re worried sick you fool, where the hell are you?
baekhyun sits on the rough carpeted floor against the side of his bed, running his hand on his dishevelled hair. i’m in paris now, is all he can say and he can hear lu han sighs on the other line. what are you doing there, come back.
he doesn’t answer.
baekhyun.
he buries his face on his knees as a flood of broken memories invade his mind and he wants it to fucking stop now because he’s sick of all of this and he’s been hurt and he can’t take it anymore -
baekhyun. is it about chanyeol?
he hangs up.
baekhyun sends another postcard with a keychain and another piece of his heart the next day. on the postcard, a shaky and blurred je t’aime is written.
iv.
he finally meets chanyeol in barcelona.
he gets lost on his way back from nou camp to his hotel after he watched el classico match between barcelona fc and real madrid and before he knows it the street becomes too foreign and he has no idea where the way back is. his throat is sore from screaming and parts of his body ache from exhaustion. people seamlessly walk past by him and he can only stand still, the feeling of helplessness and fear are starting to sink in until suddenly he feels himself being dragged away from the crowd by a tall man wearing dark-colored jeans and a matching jacket, his face shadowed by the hood over his head.
how many times do i have to tell you to be careful in crowded streets, the man tsks as he turns around to face baekhyun when they’re already in a less crowded part of the street, why are you so careless?
the man pulls the hood off his head and when he smiles, the world stops spinning and the rest of the world is blurring away around him. chanyeol.
in front of him park chanyeol is grinning all teeth, eyes full of life with the left side twitching up forming an odd yet unmistakably chanyeolish expression on his handsome face.
i’ve been looking for you, baekhyun says shakily after he can find his voice back, i’ve been looking for you.
chanyeol’s eyes soften and he gently pulls baekhyun into his arms, placing a soft kiss on the smaller’s forehead. i know, he mumbles, i’m really sorry. and baekhyun wants to hit him so hard for making him waiting and for making him sad and angry and happy but all he can do is to pull the taller man closer to his heart and cries against the soft fabric of his jacket, repeating stupid stupid stupid and a lot more of i love yous in between.
they go around the city and visit several tourist attractions (antoni gaudí is a genius, baekhyun comments in awe at sagrada família) and stroll along la rambla. one evening after they watch an amazing opera at gran teatre del liceu, chanyeol takes his hand and dance with him in a crowded street on their way back and baekhyun thinks he’s crazy and he can’t understand why he’s laughing anyway and lets chanyeol lead him dancing boisterously under the sparkling stars and pairs of gazes given by the passerby, but he doesn’t care and starts singing the beautiful aria they’ve just watched in the opera sloppily.
the time comes to a halt as they kiss; the world stands still in front of a reunion between two parts of a broken soul.
on the sixth day they go back to la rambla. chanyeol insists on drinking from font de canaletes and whines for double chocolate strawberry ice cream when they pass an ice cream parlour. baekhyun sighs but agrees anyway and walks toward the parlor to buy a cone and struggles to find the right words in broken english and even more broken spanish. he’s finally finished paying and is taking the ice cream from the kind woman when he hears a voice behind him.
baekhyun oppa?
he turns around and finds a girl with a long auburn hair wearing a black hoodie with the word exo imprinted on it standing in front of him, her wide eyes staring straight at him.
oh my god it’s really you, she gasps in her accented and broken korean, what are you doing here, oppa? are you alone?
his eyes sweeps the street but chanyeol is nowhere to be seen. he averts his gaze back to the girl and shakes his head hesitantly. do i know you?
she offers him a shy smile as her cheeks turn a shade redder. i’m exo’s fan.
oh, he replies dumbly, thanks.
where are the others, oppa? who did you come with? she asks curiously as she peers over his shoulder, both eyebrows raised.
i came with chanyeol, but looks like he’s off somewhere, he looks around then offers her a smile, probably to the bathroom. he should be back soon.
his answer seems to surprise her. chanyeol oppa? she echoes.
baekhyun nods. yes, i’m with chanyeol. estoy con chanyeol, he adds in broken spanish with a sheepish smile. the girl falls silent at his answer, her gaze drops to the ground and something inside him tells him to leave now and it’s weird, because this girl looks harmless enough and where is chanyeol anyway?
i’m so sorry, baekhyun oppa, the girl says finally with a trembling voice as tears stream down her cheeks, i’m so sorry.
in his hand, the ice cream melts away and travels along his exposed skin until the gravity pulls it to the ground. why are you sorry, baekhyun hears himself asking, feeling lost. why are you crying?
he finds chanyeol back in the hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring into space. when he notices his arrival, the taller man silently approaches him and pulls him into his arms.
chanyeol sings him spanish lullabies that night and baekhyun holds onto him tightly under the sheets, refusing to let go.
sleep, baekhyun, chanyeol murmurs. baekhyun shakes his head in response, burying his face deeper into the crook of chanyeol’s neck. no.
chanyeol sighs. it’s midnight soon.
what’s wrong with midnight, baekhyun replies nonchalantly, we used to stay up all night to practice. he pauses and thinks of sleepless nights of seemingly endless dancing and singing about platonic love and broken hearts.
it’s midnight soon, chanyeol simply repeats in a whisper, brushing his lips against baekhyun’s forehead. close your eyes, baekhyun.
why should i, baekhyun chokes out. something tugs at his heart and there are too many unspoken words die on the tip of his tongue. stay, he whispers - pleas, fingers tugging onto the hem of chanyeol’s off-white iron man t-shirt, nails digging deeper because he’s scared, because he’s hurt and he’s broken and chanyeol is responsible for all of this and he’s not letting him go ever again.
because he’s selfish and he loves chanyeol too much.
tomorrow you’ll leave, chanyeol says softly, tomorrow you’ll go back to seoul.
baekhyun looks up at him questioningly. we’re going back tomorrow?
a smile plays on chanyeol’s lips. there’s something in his eyes that makes baekhyun’s heart clench. close your eyes, baek.
baekhyun shakes his head and tries to say something, anything, but he’s all choked up and his eyes are brimming with tears. shh, don’t cry, chanyeol whispers and leans in to kiss baekhyun’s eyelids gently. i love you. you know that, right?
baekhyun flutters his eyes shut and they’re at the sm bulding rooftop, hands resting on the cold metal railing while gazing at the sea of stars above. chanyeol has his arm around his shoulders and from the darkeness he sees himself smiling. tell me, he says as he tears his gaze away from the stars and averts it to the taller man, what is so important that you have to drag me all the way up here?
chanyeol looks at him and smiles bashfully. i’ve been thinking how to do this and you know our schedule is tighter than jongin’s pants and i think you’ve already known what i’m going to say anyway so what i’m saying is -
stop babbling, stupid, baekhyun cuts him off wryly, i’ve already got terrible headache from memorizing the chinese lyrics of wolf.
i love you, chanyeol blurts out, hands covering his eyes in embarrassment. at that moment baekhyun is stunned, eyes widen yet his lips are pressed shut, and he remembers the strange sensation of butterflies merrily flapping their wings in his stomach and then as if on cue, he can hear a sound of explosion from afar and as he gazes into the distance, colorful fireworks are all over the starry sky. he averts his gaze back to chanyeol who’s staring wide-eyed at the sight with mouth slightly ajar. still stunned, he punches the taller’s arm playfully. did you plan this?
chanyeol shakes his head slowly as he stares back at him, no. as much as i want to say i did, he pauses and baekhyun can see his cheeks turn a few shades redder. i guess god planned this, chanyeol adds shyly. baekhyun looks away as heat crawls under his skin to his cheeks. you’re so cheesy, park chanyeol.
a comfortable silence falls as they watch the stunning sight until chanyeol finally regains his courage and asks, so what do you say?
baekhyun stares at him. what do i say to what?
stupid, chanyeol mutters under his breath and leans in to press his lips against baekhyun’s. the kiss is chaste and brief, but it’s enough to put baekhyun’s heart on a whirl. when chanyeol pulls away, there’s a smile playing on his lips. i love you. you know that, right?
baekhyun shudders as a strong wind blows past him and the rooftop turns into a dark alley with only stars and a full moon illuminating the narrow path. the alley feels terribly familiar and he suddenly feels a feeling similar to asphyxiate. he stumbles forward and sees two figures at the end of the alley, one of them is crying while the other lays helpless on the cold ground, his head rested on the man’s lap. the man laying on the ground covered in so much red baekhyun feels sick.
please, they’ll be here soon, please stay with me please please please, he can hear the crying man chokes out, holding the other’s hand close to his heart. you’re not going to leave me, are you?
in the distance he can hear the sound of sirens roaring in the silence of the night. the dying man chokes blood as he smiles to the crying man and says something baekhyun can’t hear. eventually the man takes his last breath and suddenly everything is blurring away until all that’s left is darkness.
chanyeol? he tries. the stillness scares him.
don’t open your eyes, he faintly hears chanyeol whisper, it’s going to be okay.
baekhyun looses his fingers on his grip as he quivers. the air suddenly feels too cold and foreign and the tears spilling from the corners of his eyes has never tasted so bitter. you’ll be here when i wake up, won’t you?
an utter silence answers him and soon consciousness eventually leaves him. in a matter of seconds, he’s fallen yet again into a deep, dreamless slumber.
(you won’t leave me again, will you?)
v.
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I / II