[1/4] #37: that old feeling
Title: that old feeling
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 27k
Warnings: Very graphic sexy time, you’ve been warned.
Summary: When a winter blizzard knocks out the power from the city, Sehun is forced to find refuge at the neighbor’s house. Alternatively, the one time when Chanyeol finally stops wearing black and Sehun stays for breakfast.
Author’s Note: First of all thank you for the prompt! I hope you’ll still like it even if it’s totally different from what you’ve had in mind. I honestly have no idea how this fic could end up to be this long. I totally got carried away. The title is taken out quite literally from the prompt as well as inspired by a favorite old song of mine with the same title. Special thanks to my beta bebe for saving me from grammatical and smut disaster, so sorry for traumatizing you.
Sehun has dropped the LED flashlight exactly four times from the short distance of the storage room to his bedroom, totally blaming it on the mind numbing coldness that has overtaken the apartment ever since the electricity and consecutively, the electric heater, decided to stop working. Sehun grumbles bitterly while examining the flashlight, thankfully still working. If he were to be completely honest, actually, it’s what he intends to do with the flashlight that causes his heart to beat like crazy, worsening his already throbbing headache and effectively depriving him of sufficient motor control. But being honest with himself has never been one of Sehun’s best qualities anyway, so it’s the cold really, and has absolutely nothing to do with a certain neighbor whose bedroom is across from his.
The snowstorm has started relatively calmly that late afternoon, as expected from January weather. But when the night approached, a blizzard of great proportions blew throughout Seoul, subsequently knocking out the electricity in most parts of the residential areas. Under normal circumstances, spending a blizzardy night alone isn’t something Sehun would be so worried about. Thanks to his self-proclaimed frigophobic mother, the family apartment is thoroughly equipped with automatic floor heating. Which is also why even at the age of 21, Oh Sehun still lives with his parents. But needless to say, without the electricity on his aid, Sehun isn’t even sure how he can survive through the night.
Sehun, just like his mother, has harbored a fiery hatred towards the winter season for as long as he can remember. His super metabolism, also inherited from his mother, prevents him from storing ample amount of fat to fend against the cold, making him painfully sensitive to even the slightest change in weather conditions. Especially now without the much needed support from the floor heater, Sehun can feel the temperature dropping in an alarmingly fast rate, and it's scaring the life out of him.
He really should have gone on that month-long trip to Hawaii with his parents last week, If not for the dance recital next Saturday afternoon holding him back. Being a responsible student sucks. Or rather, being Sehun sucks.
Sehun’s ultimate option to ensure survival for the time being, as suggested by his (awful) best friend Kim Jongin on the phone earlier, is to take refuge at the neighbor’s apartment next door, where lives alone, in Sehun's mother's adoring words, a very fine and handsome young man. Sehun, for reasons he's reluctant to reveal especially to Jongin, very much loathes the idea, and had initially rejected it. But Jongin being Jongin (read: awful), just had to drop an untimely and universally not funny joke about the possibility of seeing Sehun's lifeless body down at the morgue the next morning. Sehun almost cried over that.
Having at least the decency to feel remotely bad after hearing Sehun's trembling voice, Jongin then offered a more practical plan on how he thought Sehun should try to approach the neighbor. "Given that you’re that scared of him," Jongin had begun, in which Sehun protested right away, “I’m not scared! I just don’t want to impose!” but was shot down nonchalantly by Jongin, “Same thing. Anyway, if you’re that scared to impose on him, how about flashing him with a flashlight then? See how he reacts first. If he welcomes it, might as well welcome you to his house, right? What do you think? Do you have one around?"
Sehun wanted to say yes, he has a flashlight somewhere in the apartment, but no, he doesn't follow Jongin's logic, no, it won't work, and no! It's not that simple! But Jongin had abruptly ended the phone call when his toy poodles barked for his attention. Leaving Sehun, washed over by waves of panic after Jongin had hung up on him, and even more so when he saw his phone's battery level hitting a low 6%, hence making another phone call back to the said best friend impossible, with just one terrifying solution on hand:
the neighbor.
To get things straight, Sehun isn’t scared of the neighbor, at least not in the way Jongin had implied that he was. For all he might come across as, Sehun is neither a timid nor a shy person. Behind his usually placid (arguably bitchy) resting face, resides a boy with bubbly personality; always the one initiating friendly conversations and never shying away from strangers.
But this neighbor, this neighbor is a whole different story.
Sehun has tried to rack his brain for alternative solution, one that does not involve him getting killed by going out there on the blizzard, to no avail. Instead, everything points back to that one neighbor. Someone Sehun (especially his mother) is actually acquainted with, who is not a possible serial killer, who lives on the same building, on the same the floor even, and whom Sehun knows for sure owns a fireplace. All in all a perfect choice if not for the fact that Sehun still thinks seeking help from this one neighbor is really, really a bad idea.
But as they always say, desperate times call for desperate measures. And since, no, thanks, Jongin, Sehun really doesn't want to end up in a morgue, he decides to forsake his pride and give Jongin’s idea a try, however dumb it is (actually rather smart given the situation, but he would never admit to that to Jongin).
And so that’s how Sehun ends up rummaging the storage room for a flashlight, dropping it multiple times while running back to his room, having a sudden brilliant idea when he sees a black marker pen lying idly by his study table, before dragging a chair to sit next to the window, bundled head to toe with layers of blankets, fidgeting and contemplating his life (and friendship) choices while waiting for a chance to catch the neighbor’s attention from behind the window.
Admittedly it’s not the most fool-proof plan anyone could come up with, ever. The possibility of it being a total failure might cost Sehun his life, in a lot of ways. But at least it’s a safe plan; safe as in Sehun can quickly hide and pretend he has not just irritated the neighbor with his LED flashlight, in case Chan-the neighbor goes berserk at the sight of him. Totally unfavorable but clearly not impossible considering their history.
If, however, just like Jongin had said, the neighbor welcomes Sehun's approach even in the slightest civil manner, Sehun will take his chance to advance further, and this is where the marker pen will play its part. Sehun gives the pen, placed strategically beside the flashlight on top of his bed just an arm’s reach away from where Sehun is sitting, a determined nod. He can do this. He has everything covered.
The blizzard has now gotten to a level where it’s both terrifying to watch as well as to hear. Sehun is especially bothered by how the winds strangely sound like they’re whistling to each other from all directions as if they're at a rally. They got no chill, unlike me, Sehun suppresses a laugh at his own lame joke, but it quickly disappears when a rather menacing and totally creepy sounding whistle sends goosebumps down his spine.
Sehun also finds himself looking over his shoulder more often than he'd like, just in case. The room is eerily dark, and no one will ever know if something, something, decides to keep him as unwanted company. Sehun shudders at the thought.
Seriously, if he turns blue before the neighbor appears, it'd be totally his own fault. Sehun mentally scolds himself and sets his focus back onto his mission, the neighbor.
The neighbor, for some unknown reason has been leaving the curtain to his bedroom wide open since Sehun first noticed it that day, as if to mock him. Because yes, Sehun can see, amidst the sheets of heavy snow, candles lighting up (and possibly warming) the room. And also, yes, Sehun sort of wants to cry at the thought of a warm room, a stark contrast to his dark and unpleasantly chilling one. On top of if, it seems to Sehun that, unfortunately, the neighbor is keen on making things a lot more difficult by appearing nowhere near where Sehun needs him to be. While Sehun is positively convinced his neighbor is currently in his house, he specifically needs the guy to be in his bedroom for Sehun's plan to work. Flashlights can only reach a certain distance, and the closest Sehun can think of is between their bedroom windows; something Sehun would normally despise but can't help but feel rather thankful now. Spying on his neighbor is a lot easier when he doesn’t have to leave the comfort (although arguably lack thereof) of his bedroom.
Sehun looks up to check on his digital wall clock again; his phone has died on him a while ago, left abandoned on the desk. It’s roughly a quarter to eight in the evening. He’s been waiting for close to half an hour by the window now, with no real progress whatsoever. Sehun sighs disappointedly to himself, just how much longer he will have to endure this. The cold has started making him very sleepy, and from what he has learned from thriller movies, this is where the helpless protagonist starts dying, accompanied by sad orchestral music as BGM.
Sehun's eyebrows instantly knit in frustration, realizing he has once again fallen to his unnecessary imagination. Damn it, Oh Sehun you only have one job! Stay sane!
Sehun brings his half frozen fingers to massage his temple. The headache is almost unbearable now, made worse partly by his self-induced stress aside from the cold. It's as if someone is passionately playing gayageum using his cranial nerves as the strings. And he doesn't need to look at a mirror to know the veins on his forehead are visibly throbbing, bluish green against his pale complexion. Sehun should help himself to an aspirin from the kitchen, except he can't afford to leave his spot. Not now. Not when his neighbor could appear anytime when Sehun's in the kitchen and cost him his only chance, leaving him with no choice but to go knock on the neighbor’s door and possibly die from embarrassment if the guy were to turn him down right to his face, again. More stress, so much more stress.
Sehun settles on just continuing to massage his temple, his scalp, his neck, and all the way down to his shoulders until he doesn't feel like dying anymore. Some of the blankets fall onto the floor in the process and when he notices, he picks them up and cuddles into them even tighter than before.
Sadly, there’s really nothing much he can do besides waiting for now, waiting and staring wistfully through the misty window.
Karma, he mutters under his breath.
For the past couple years or so, Sehun has dedicated himself to avoid having anything to do with Chanyeol in any possible way; even to the extent of refusing to call him by his name, referring to the guy as simply “the neighbor”. But not because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (read: Chanyeol) is an evil mastermind, or a criminal, or has done Sehun or the world anything worth plotting a war over, not at all.
While it might be true to some extent, in all honestly, it’s really quite the opposite.
❄
The thing about packing when it comes to Park Chanyeol is, it takes forever to finish. Five big suitcases filled up and there are still so many things to pack. Namely rows of countless clothes hanging on the tall open built-in shelves inside a spacious walk-in closet integrated into his bedroom. But Chanyeol is never one to lost perseverance. He had vowed to himself when he first started packing earlier this morning that not even a blizzard or even power outage will stop him. He shall fold each and every one, and arrange them neatly inside the suitcases (three more left for him to use wisely) down to the last piece, to the last black piece of clothing.
Chanyeol puffs his cheeks in slight annoyance, taking a chunk of clothes from the shelves and dumping them, including himself, onto the carpeted floor. He starts taking off the hangers one by one, while wondering, why on earth everything he owns is black in color now. Black shirts, black pants, black jackets, black boots, black suits, black ties. His wardrobe is truly the very definition of gloomy and he hates himself for not having at least a bit of self-restraint when it comes to clothing choice. Every time he goes out shopping, no matter how cool this white shirt looks, or how fit that blue shirt is with his body, he will always end up buying the black one. And the worst part is, he will only realize it after leaving the store, all too late and too ashamed of himself for yet again failing in buying something not black.
Chanyeol is pretty sure he used to own and wear colorful clothes though. Heck, he even wore pink before. Where did those shirts go? Ah, yeah, Salvation Army, Chanyeol remembers, of course. Always getting uncontrollably giddy and wanting to donate something every single time he walks by their many many thrift stores all across Seoul. Chanyeol is, no pun intended, beyond salvation. He owes this habit to his mother and how since he was small, dinner would always be his most favorite bossam at the end of every month if Chanyeol and his sister managed to save a good portion of their allowances to give for donation. The idea of “giving is caring” has been planted root deep into Chanyeol’s subconscious by his mother. Thank you, Mrs. Park.
He knows he should try donating the black shirts and replaces them with new, not-black shirts. Except he also knows he will need all the good luck on that, for he is sure to end up buying black ones if he attempts shopping by himself again. Bad habit dies hard. Or maybe he should just hire a fashion stylist like Jongdae has been trying to convince him to lately. Yeah, maybe he should do that. He will tell Jongdae later. The feisty singer will be delighted and more than happy to find him one.
Chanyeol smiles to himself contently. Life problem solved, and just like that Chanyeol's mood brightens up significantly. He starts humming random tunes while folding his shirts and, oh! OH!, an imaginary light bulb pops above Chanyeol's head. His mind starts vomiting words in rhymes about gloomy outfits and sad love story. Lyrics! Chanyeol scrambles to get up and makes a run to the nightstand in his bedroom. He reaches for his notebook to quickly pen everything down.
Chanyeol is a creature of habit and this is one habit of his, that instead of costing money, it fills his savings enough for generations to come. He turns every event of his life into words, into lyrics, into aspirations for making music. He feels like Taylor Swift sometimes. Although Baekhyun, however, begs to differ. "You only write sad songs lately! You failure piece of overcooked rice!", Baekhyun once angrily pointed a finger at him after the ballad singer was forced to release a solo album entirely using sad songs Chanyeol had written. Although in Chanyeol’s defense, he really wouldn’t have guessed the producer would use all ten of his freshly written songs solely for Baekhyun. The album was a huge success, but needless to say Baekhyun refused to talk to him for one whole week.
It's an obsession. Chanyeol knows it's an obsession, and has tried to fix it; to write something else, or not to write at all, or scrap the papers right after he wrote on them. But it only got Chanyeol restless and irritable over the time. Earning him a talk with Kyungsoo, “If you’re sad yet you start writing happy songs, I would actually be worried. So stop being stupid and denying whatever is happening to you right now. What do you think Jongdae, Baekhyun, and I are for, if not for singing your crappy sad songs?” Chanyeol remembers staring at Kyungsoo in gratitude and awe before the shorter guy placed a strong jab on his gut and left Chanyeol writhing in pain on the floor by himself. What a tough friendship.
Chanyeol finishes his notes about ten minutes and three pages later with a bitter smile stretching over his face. The notebook is back on the nightstand while Chanyeol is loosely flipping the pen in his fingers just because it calms him to do so. He sits there on the bed quietly, eyes flickering back and forth between the pen and the window in front of him.
Mrs. Oh came up to him the day before she and her husband left for Hawaii, asking if Chanyeol could keep an eye on her son while the couple are away. Chanyeol smiled and assured her that yes he would, because there's no way he would say no to the neighbor who’s been so kind to him since the day he first moved in years ago. Mrs. Oh doesn't know and doesn’t need to know all the complicated things between Chanyeol and her son, let alone the fact that her son, Sehun, will never let Chanyeol keep an eye on him. It's a practically impossible request to fulfill, but putting her mind at ease was the least he could do.
It's been years since the last time Chanyeol saw Sehun in person, not just catching a glimpse of him from afar. And only when Mrs. Oh talks about her son that Chanyeol gets an update on how Sehun is doing. If the middle-aged lady noticed the twinkle in Chanyeol's eyes every time, she didn’t say anything, simply returning his smile curiously.
When the building lost its electricity earlier today, Chanyeol decided to leave the curtain to his bedroom open. Despite his built up worry over the neighbor's son, there’s little that he can do. He knows how much the younger boy hates the cold, but at the same time he also knows how much Sehun wouldn't appreciate Chanyeol knocking on his door to check on him, even if it's by his own mother's request. So in the end Chanyeol did the best that he could do, having the curtainless window to serve as an indirect invitation. That if Sehun ever needs help, he will know that Chanyeol is home, and has the means to keep him warm throughout the blizzard; as shown by the burning candles in tin cases he has placed strategically near the window.
Fortunately (unfortunately), Sehun seems to be fending for himself just fine; that or he is stubbornly sticking to his stay-away-from-Chanyeol rule. It's been hours and the boy is still nowhere to be seen. Nothing of the unexpected really, but doesn't mean it hurts any less. Chanyeol wonders for a second if Kyungsoo would smack him on the head and tell him to stop being stupid again if he were here to witness Chanyeol staring dejectedly at the window across the building. Hate to admit but he would rather get that pain caused by Kyungsoo's smack than this.
Chanyeol walks toward the window after returning the pen to its place atop the notebook. This is sad. He shouldn't be doing this. After what had happened between him and Sehun, he should have known better. He shouldn't be hanging on foolish hopes. Not anymore.
Chanyeol reaches for the curtain, ready to shut it close, when a flash of light suddenly blinds his vision, causing him to step back slightly panicked. What the heck?! He rubs his eyes irritatedly until he gains his vision back, and when he does, he notices the light is now frantically hovering all over his body, as if begging for his attention. He watches with mild amusement, finding himself more curious than angry with each passing minute, and more so when he finds out where the light is coming from.
Sehun’s window.
Chanyeol quickly brings his face closer to the window and squints to see more clearly. He’s sort of glad he's wearing his contacts right now, otherwise his blur vision would make it worse than it already is. In all honesty it’s a rather terrifying sight to behold; a blurry face surfacing in a misty window, accompanied by a violently shaking dot of light, seemingly originated from a flashlight held near the person’s face, pointing urgently at Chanyeol’s general direction.
Chanyeol feels as if his heartbeat stops when he catches the person’s face, is that.. Sehun?
He just stands there bewildered, eyes glued to Sehun and mind trying to decipher what his neighbor is trying to do or convey at all.
Sehun apparently is quick to take hints and doesn't waste his time to drop his message, or rather, his question. Again, if Chanyeol hadn’t noticed it was Sehun, he would totally be petrified by now. Sehun is either really trying to reach out to him or scaring the shit out of Chanyeol with his way too creative way of communication. It's almost like a scene taken straight out of a horror movie-words marked using a black thick marker pen appearing on Sehun’s window one by one. Chanyeol’s breath hitches when a question mark appear at very last.
Can I come over?
Chanyeol recites the question inside his head and takes a step back to give himself a space to think, still not quite believing what he has seen. All horror movie jokes aside, is Sehun really, did Sehun really just ask if he could come over? As in to Chanyeol’s apartment? Like, right now??
When Chanyeol decided to open his curtain for Sehun to see, he knew there would be two possible outcomes; one of them being the very unlikely scenario where Sehun takes up on his offer. And yet now it's that outcome with arguably zero percent possibility that has unfolded before Chanyeol. He isn’t even sure he’s ready for such a plot twist, especially after years of getting used to Sehun's silent treatment. Needless to say, it only takes a glance to Sehun's pleading face comically pressed almost flat on the window glasses for all Chanyeol's doubtful thoughts to be replaced with eagerness to answer his neighbor’s call for help.
Chanyeol quickly grabs his pen and writes something on the window. But to his horror, nothing comes up, the ink doesn't stay. He groans in frustration and discards the pen right away to use his finger instead. He blows hot air onto the tip of his index finger and drags it along the cold window, forming a big letter Y. When he looks closer again to check, to his disappointment Sehun is nowhere to be seen. Chanyeol sighs, hoping Sehun has seen it and took the message as what Chanyeol intends it to be, a yes.
Apparently it doesn't even take a minute before hasty knocks are made on Chanyeol's door, presumably by Sehun. Chanyeol stops before the door to take his time regulating his breath, calming down his nerves. Because, finally, Chanyeol wants to scream from the top of his lung, FINALLY!!
But of course he can’t show that to Sehun. He can’t show that he’s been waiting for Sehun to come to him of his own accord, possibly since forever, not that anyone needs to know. Chanyeol will answer the door and ask what Sehun needs from him before welcoming the latter into his apartment, calm and composed. Yes, a very calm Park Chanyeol finally braves himself to open the door.
Only to find no one is standing there.
What?
Chanyeol slowly closes his door. Was he hallucinating? Was he really hallucinating about Sehun wanting to come over to his place? Has Chanyeol's sanity finally given up on him? Or has he unknowingly starred in a horror movie all along? Or is this a candid camera prank? Will Baekhyun appear with a whole filming team crew? Or is this just a really bad nightmare? Chanyeol mentally facepalms. Maybe he should give Jongdae a call and have a chat or two, before he turns completely insane.
He has only managed to turn on his heels when another loud knock is heard again, followed by couples more urgent knocks that almost rhymes. At first they’re loud, but then it gets weaker by each knock. And when it stops completely, Chanyeol is alarmed. He quickly opens the door, and this time he finally finds his guest standing before him, the one he's been expecting,
Sehun.
↪
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 27k
Warnings: Very graphic sexy time, you’ve been warned.
Summary: When a winter blizzard knocks out the power from the city, Sehun is forced to find refuge at the neighbor’s house. Alternatively, the one time when Chanyeol finally stops wearing black and Sehun stays for breakfast.
Author’s Note: First of all thank you for the prompt! I hope you’ll still like it even if it’s totally different from what you’ve had in mind. I honestly have no idea how this fic could end up to be this long. I totally got carried away. The title is taken out quite literally from the prompt as well as inspired by a favorite old song of mine with the same title. Special thanks to my beta bebe for saving me from grammatical and smut disaster, so sorry for traumatizing you.
Sehun has dropped the LED flashlight exactly four times from the short distance of the storage room to his bedroom, totally blaming it on the mind numbing coldness that has overtaken the apartment ever since the electricity and consecutively, the electric heater, decided to stop working. Sehun grumbles bitterly while examining the flashlight, thankfully still working. If he were to be completely honest, actually, it’s what he intends to do with the flashlight that causes his heart to beat like crazy, worsening his already throbbing headache and effectively depriving him of sufficient motor control. But being honest with himself has never been one of Sehun’s best qualities anyway, so it’s the cold really, and has absolutely nothing to do with a certain neighbor whose bedroom is across from his.
The snowstorm has started relatively calmly that late afternoon, as expected from January weather. But when the night approached, a blizzard of great proportions blew throughout Seoul, subsequently knocking out the electricity in most parts of the residential areas. Under normal circumstances, spending a blizzardy night alone isn’t something Sehun would be so worried about. Thanks to his self-proclaimed frigophobic mother, the family apartment is thoroughly equipped with automatic floor heating. Which is also why even at the age of 21, Oh Sehun still lives with his parents. But needless to say, without the electricity on his aid, Sehun isn’t even sure how he can survive through the night.
Sehun, just like his mother, has harbored a fiery hatred towards the winter season for as long as he can remember. His super metabolism, also inherited from his mother, prevents him from storing ample amount of fat to fend against the cold, making him painfully sensitive to even the slightest change in weather conditions. Especially now without the much needed support from the floor heater, Sehun can feel the temperature dropping in an alarmingly fast rate, and it's scaring the life out of him.
He really should have gone on that month-long trip to Hawaii with his parents last week, If not for the dance recital next Saturday afternoon holding him back. Being a responsible student sucks. Or rather, being Sehun sucks.
Sehun’s ultimate option to ensure survival for the time being, as suggested by his (awful) best friend Kim Jongin on the phone earlier, is to take refuge at the neighbor’s apartment next door, where lives alone, in Sehun's mother's adoring words, a very fine and handsome young man. Sehun, for reasons he's reluctant to reveal especially to Jongin, very much loathes the idea, and had initially rejected it. But Jongin being Jongin (read: awful), just had to drop an untimely and universally not funny joke about the possibility of seeing Sehun's lifeless body down at the morgue the next morning. Sehun almost cried over that.
Having at least the decency to feel remotely bad after hearing Sehun's trembling voice, Jongin then offered a more practical plan on how he thought Sehun should try to approach the neighbor. "Given that you’re that scared of him," Jongin had begun, in which Sehun protested right away, “I’m not scared! I just don’t want to impose!” but was shot down nonchalantly by Jongin, “Same thing. Anyway, if you’re that scared to impose on him, how about flashing him with a flashlight then? See how he reacts first. If he welcomes it, might as well welcome you to his house, right? What do you think? Do you have one around?"
Sehun wanted to say yes, he has a flashlight somewhere in the apartment, but no, he doesn't follow Jongin's logic, no, it won't work, and no! It's not that simple! But Jongin had abruptly ended the phone call when his toy poodles barked for his attention. Leaving Sehun, washed over by waves of panic after Jongin had hung up on him, and even more so when he saw his phone's battery level hitting a low 6%, hence making another phone call back to the said best friend impossible, with just one terrifying solution on hand:
the neighbor.
To get things straight, Sehun isn’t scared of the neighbor, at least not in the way Jongin had implied that he was. For all he might come across as, Sehun is neither a timid nor a shy person. Behind his usually placid (arguably bitchy) resting face, resides a boy with bubbly personality; always the one initiating friendly conversations and never shying away from strangers.
But this neighbor, this neighbor is a whole different story.
Sehun has tried to rack his brain for alternative solution, one that does not involve him getting killed by going out there on the blizzard, to no avail. Instead, everything points back to that one neighbor. Someone Sehun (especially his mother) is actually acquainted with, who is not a possible serial killer, who lives on the same building, on the same the floor even, and whom Sehun knows for sure owns a fireplace. All in all a perfect choice if not for the fact that Sehun still thinks seeking help from this one neighbor is really, really a bad idea.
But as they always say, desperate times call for desperate measures. And since, no, thanks, Jongin, Sehun really doesn't want to end up in a morgue, he decides to forsake his pride and give Jongin’s idea a try, however dumb it is (actually rather smart given the situation, but he would never admit to that to Jongin).
And so that’s how Sehun ends up rummaging the storage room for a flashlight, dropping it multiple times while running back to his room, having a sudden brilliant idea when he sees a black marker pen lying idly by his study table, before dragging a chair to sit next to the window, bundled head to toe with layers of blankets, fidgeting and contemplating his life (and friendship) choices while waiting for a chance to catch the neighbor’s attention from behind the window.
Admittedly it’s not the most fool-proof plan anyone could come up with, ever. The possibility of it being a total failure might cost Sehun his life, in a lot of ways. But at least it’s a safe plan; safe as in Sehun can quickly hide and pretend he has not just irritated the neighbor with his LED flashlight, in case Chan-the neighbor goes berserk at the sight of him. Totally unfavorable but clearly not impossible considering their history.
If, however, just like Jongin had said, the neighbor welcomes Sehun's approach even in the slightest civil manner, Sehun will take his chance to advance further, and this is where the marker pen will play its part. Sehun gives the pen, placed strategically beside the flashlight on top of his bed just an arm’s reach away from where Sehun is sitting, a determined nod. He can do this. He has everything covered.
The blizzard has now gotten to a level where it’s both terrifying to watch as well as to hear. Sehun is especially bothered by how the winds strangely sound like they’re whistling to each other from all directions as if they're at a rally. They got no chill, unlike me, Sehun suppresses a laugh at his own lame joke, but it quickly disappears when a rather menacing and totally creepy sounding whistle sends goosebumps down his spine.
Sehun also finds himself looking over his shoulder more often than he'd like, just in case. The room is eerily dark, and no one will ever know if something, something, decides to keep him as unwanted company. Sehun shudders at the thought.
Seriously, if he turns blue before the neighbor appears, it'd be totally his own fault. Sehun mentally scolds himself and sets his focus back onto his mission, the neighbor.
The neighbor, for some unknown reason has been leaving the curtain to his bedroom wide open since Sehun first noticed it that day, as if to mock him. Because yes, Sehun can see, amidst the sheets of heavy snow, candles lighting up (and possibly warming) the room. And also, yes, Sehun sort of wants to cry at the thought of a warm room, a stark contrast to his dark and unpleasantly chilling one. On top of if, it seems to Sehun that, unfortunately, the neighbor is keen on making things a lot more difficult by appearing nowhere near where Sehun needs him to be. While Sehun is positively convinced his neighbor is currently in his house, he specifically needs the guy to be in his bedroom for Sehun's plan to work. Flashlights can only reach a certain distance, and the closest Sehun can think of is between their bedroom windows; something Sehun would normally despise but can't help but feel rather thankful now. Spying on his neighbor is a lot easier when he doesn’t have to leave the comfort (although arguably lack thereof) of his bedroom.
Sehun looks up to check on his digital wall clock again; his phone has died on him a while ago, left abandoned on the desk. It’s roughly a quarter to eight in the evening. He’s been waiting for close to half an hour by the window now, with no real progress whatsoever. Sehun sighs disappointedly to himself, just how much longer he will have to endure this. The cold has started making him very sleepy, and from what he has learned from thriller movies, this is where the helpless protagonist starts dying, accompanied by sad orchestral music as BGM.
Sehun's eyebrows instantly knit in frustration, realizing he has once again fallen to his unnecessary imagination. Damn it, Oh Sehun you only have one job! Stay sane!
Sehun brings his half frozen fingers to massage his temple. The headache is almost unbearable now, made worse partly by his self-induced stress aside from the cold. It's as if someone is passionately playing gayageum using his cranial nerves as the strings. And he doesn't need to look at a mirror to know the veins on his forehead are visibly throbbing, bluish green against his pale complexion. Sehun should help himself to an aspirin from the kitchen, except he can't afford to leave his spot. Not now. Not when his neighbor could appear anytime when Sehun's in the kitchen and cost him his only chance, leaving him with no choice but to go knock on the neighbor’s door and possibly die from embarrassment if the guy were to turn him down right to his face, again. More stress, so much more stress.
Sehun settles on just continuing to massage his temple, his scalp, his neck, and all the way down to his shoulders until he doesn't feel like dying anymore. Some of the blankets fall onto the floor in the process and when he notices, he picks them up and cuddles into them even tighter than before.
Sadly, there’s really nothing much he can do besides waiting for now, waiting and staring wistfully through the misty window.
Karma, he mutters under his breath.
For the past couple years or so, Sehun has dedicated himself to avoid having anything to do with Chanyeol in any possible way; even to the extent of refusing to call him by his name, referring to the guy as simply “the neighbor”. But not because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (read: Chanyeol) is an evil mastermind, or a criminal, or has done Sehun or the world anything worth plotting a war over, not at all.
While it might be true to some extent, in all honestly, it’s really quite the opposite.
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The thing about packing when it comes to Park Chanyeol is, it takes forever to finish. Five big suitcases filled up and there are still so many things to pack. Namely rows of countless clothes hanging on the tall open built-in shelves inside a spacious walk-in closet integrated into his bedroom. But Chanyeol is never one to lost perseverance. He had vowed to himself when he first started packing earlier this morning that not even a blizzard or even power outage will stop him. He shall fold each and every one, and arrange them neatly inside the suitcases (three more left for him to use wisely) down to the last piece, to the last black piece of clothing.
Chanyeol puffs his cheeks in slight annoyance, taking a chunk of clothes from the shelves and dumping them, including himself, onto the carpeted floor. He starts taking off the hangers one by one, while wondering, why on earth everything he owns is black in color now. Black shirts, black pants, black jackets, black boots, black suits, black ties. His wardrobe is truly the very definition of gloomy and he hates himself for not having at least a bit of self-restraint when it comes to clothing choice. Every time he goes out shopping, no matter how cool this white shirt looks, or how fit that blue shirt is with his body, he will always end up buying the black one. And the worst part is, he will only realize it after leaving the store, all too late and too ashamed of himself for yet again failing in buying something not black.
Chanyeol is pretty sure he used to own and wear colorful clothes though. Heck, he even wore pink before. Where did those shirts go? Ah, yeah, Salvation Army, Chanyeol remembers, of course. Always getting uncontrollably giddy and wanting to donate something every single time he walks by their many many thrift stores all across Seoul. Chanyeol is, no pun intended, beyond salvation. He owes this habit to his mother and how since he was small, dinner would always be his most favorite bossam at the end of every month if Chanyeol and his sister managed to save a good portion of their allowances to give for donation. The idea of “giving is caring” has been planted root deep into Chanyeol’s subconscious by his mother. Thank you, Mrs. Park.
He knows he should try donating the black shirts and replaces them with new, not-black shirts. Except he also knows he will need all the good luck on that, for he is sure to end up buying black ones if he attempts shopping by himself again. Bad habit dies hard. Or maybe he should just hire a fashion stylist like Jongdae has been trying to convince him to lately. Yeah, maybe he should do that. He will tell Jongdae later. The feisty singer will be delighted and more than happy to find him one.
Chanyeol smiles to himself contently. Life problem solved, and just like that Chanyeol's mood brightens up significantly. He starts humming random tunes while folding his shirts and, oh! OH!, an imaginary light bulb pops above Chanyeol's head. His mind starts vomiting words in rhymes about gloomy outfits and sad love story. Lyrics! Chanyeol scrambles to get up and makes a run to the nightstand in his bedroom. He reaches for his notebook to quickly pen everything down.
Chanyeol is a creature of habit and this is one habit of his, that instead of costing money, it fills his savings enough for generations to come. He turns every event of his life into words, into lyrics, into aspirations for making music. He feels like Taylor Swift sometimes. Although Baekhyun, however, begs to differ. "You only write sad songs lately! You failure piece of overcooked rice!", Baekhyun once angrily pointed a finger at him after the ballad singer was forced to release a solo album entirely using sad songs Chanyeol had written. Although in Chanyeol’s defense, he really wouldn’t have guessed the producer would use all ten of his freshly written songs solely for Baekhyun. The album was a huge success, but needless to say Baekhyun refused to talk to him for one whole week.
It's an obsession. Chanyeol knows it's an obsession, and has tried to fix it; to write something else, or not to write at all, or scrap the papers right after he wrote on them. But it only got Chanyeol restless and irritable over the time. Earning him a talk with Kyungsoo, “If you’re sad yet you start writing happy songs, I would actually be worried. So stop being stupid and denying whatever is happening to you right now. What do you think Jongdae, Baekhyun, and I are for, if not for singing your crappy sad songs?” Chanyeol remembers staring at Kyungsoo in gratitude and awe before the shorter guy placed a strong jab on his gut and left Chanyeol writhing in pain on the floor by himself. What a tough friendship.
Chanyeol finishes his notes about ten minutes and three pages later with a bitter smile stretching over his face. The notebook is back on the nightstand while Chanyeol is loosely flipping the pen in his fingers just because it calms him to do so. He sits there on the bed quietly, eyes flickering back and forth between the pen and the window in front of him.
Mrs. Oh came up to him the day before she and her husband left for Hawaii, asking if Chanyeol could keep an eye on her son while the couple are away. Chanyeol smiled and assured her that yes he would, because there's no way he would say no to the neighbor who’s been so kind to him since the day he first moved in years ago. Mrs. Oh doesn't know and doesn’t need to know all the complicated things between Chanyeol and her son, let alone the fact that her son, Sehun, will never let Chanyeol keep an eye on him. It's a practically impossible request to fulfill, but putting her mind at ease was the least he could do.
It's been years since the last time Chanyeol saw Sehun in person, not just catching a glimpse of him from afar. And only when Mrs. Oh talks about her son that Chanyeol gets an update on how Sehun is doing. If the middle-aged lady noticed the twinkle in Chanyeol's eyes every time, she didn’t say anything, simply returning his smile curiously.
When the building lost its electricity earlier today, Chanyeol decided to leave the curtain to his bedroom open. Despite his built up worry over the neighbor's son, there’s little that he can do. He knows how much the younger boy hates the cold, but at the same time he also knows how much Sehun wouldn't appreciate Chanyeol knocking on his door to check on him, even if it's by his own mother's request. So in the end Chanyeol did the best that he could do, having the curtainless window to serve as an indirect invitation. That if Sehun ever needs help, he will know that Chanyeol is home, and has the means to keep him warm throughout the blizzard; as shown by the burning candles in tin cases he has placed strategically near the window.
Fortunately (unfortunately), Sehun seems to be fending for himself just fine; that or he is stubbornly sticking to his stay-away-from-Chanyeol rule. It's been hours and the boy is still nowhere to be seen. Nothing of the unexpected really, but doesn't mean it hurts any less. Chanyeol wonders for a second if Kyungsoo would smack him on the head and tell him to stop being stupid again if he were here to witness Chanyeol staring dejectedly at the window across the building. Hate to admit but he would rather get that pain caused by Kyungsoo's smack than this.
Chanyeol walks toward the window after returning the pen to its place atop the notebook. This is sad. He shouldn't be doing this. After what had happened between him and Sehun, he should have known better. He shouldn't be hanging on foolish hopes. Not anymore.
Chanyeol reaches for the curtain, ready to shut it close, when a flash of light suddenly blinds his vision, causing him to step back slightly panicked. What the heck?! He rubs his eyes irritatedly until he gains his vision back, and when he does, he notices the light is now frantically hovering all over his body, as if begging for his attention. He watches with mild amusement, finding himself more curious than angry with each passing minute, and more so when he finds out where the light is coming from.
Sehun’s window.
Chanyeol quickly brings his face closer to the window and squints to see more clearly. He’s sort of glad he's wearing his contacts right now, otherwise his blur vision would make it worse than it already is. In all honesty it’s a rather terrifying sight to behold; a blurry face surfacing in a misty window, accompanied by a violently shaking dot of light, seemingly originated from a flashlight held near the person’s face, pointing urgently at Chanyeol’s general direction.
Chanyeol feels as if his heartbeat stops when he catches the person’s face, is that.. Sehun?
He just stands there bewildered, eyes glued to Sehun and mind trying to decipher what his neighbor is trying to do or convey at all.
Sehun apparently is quick to take hints and doesn't waste his time to drop his message, or rather, his question. Again, if Chanyeol hadn’t noticed it was Sehun, he would totally be petrified by now. Sehun is either really trying to reach out to him or scaring the shit out of Chanyeol with his way too creative way of communication. It's almost like a scene taken straight out of a horror movie-words marked using a black thick marker pen appearing on Sehun’s window one by one. Chanyeol’s breath hitches when a question mark appear at very last.
Can I come over?
Chanyeol recites the question inside his head and takes a step back to give himself a space to think, still not quite believing what he has seen. All horror movie jokes aside, is Sehun really, did Sehun really just ask if he could come over? As in to Chanyeol’s apartment? Like, right now??
When Chanyeol decided to open his curtain for Sehun to see, he knew there would be two possible outcomes; one of them being the very unlikely scenario where Sehun takes up on his offer. And yet now it's that outcome with arguably zero percent possibility that has unfolded before Chanyeol. He isn’t even sure he’s ready for such a plot twist, especially after years of getting used to Sehun's silent treatment. Needless to say, it only takes a glance to Sehun's pleading face comically pressed almost flat on the window glasses for all Chanyeol's doubtful thoughts to be replaced with eagerness to answer his neighbor’s call for help.
Chanyeol quickly grabs his pen and writes something on the window. But to his horror, nothing comes up, the ink doesn't stay. He groans in frustration and discards the pen right away to use his finger instead. He blows hot air onto the tip of his index finger and drags it along the cold window, forming a big letter Y. When he looks closer again to check, to his disappointment Sehun is nowhere to be seen. Chanyeol sighs, hoping Sehun has seen it and took the message as what Chanyeol intends it to be, a yes.
Apparently it doesn't even take a minute before hasty knocks are made on Chanyeol's door, presumably by Sehun. Chanyeol stops before the door to take his time regulating his breath, calming down his nerves. Because, finally, Chanyeol wants to scream from the top of his lung, FINALLY!!
But of course he can’t show that to Sehun. He can’t show that he’s been waiting for Sehun to come to him of his own accord, possibly since forever, not that anyone needs to know. Chanyeol will answer the door and ask what Sehun needs from him before welcoming the latter into his apartment, calm and composed. Yes, a very calm Park Chanyeol finally braves himself to open the door.
Only to find no one is standing there.
What?
Chanyeol slowly closes his door. Was he hallucinating? Was he really hallucinating about Sehun wanting to come over to his place? Has Chanyeol's sanity finally given up on him? Or has he unknowingly starred in a horror movie all along? Or is this a candid camera prank? Will Baekhyun appear with a whole filming team crew? Or is this just a really bad nightmare? Chanyeol mentally facepalms. Maybe he should give Jongdae a call and have a chat or two, before he turns completely insane.
He has only managed to turn on his heels when another loud knock is heard again, followed by couples more urgent knocks that almost rhymes. At first they’re loud, but then it gets weaker by each knock. And when it stops completely, Chanyeol is alarmed. He quickly opens the door, and this time he finally finds his guest standing before him, the one he's been expecting,
Sehun.
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