promise you won't forget me (because if I thought you would, I'd never leave) ; part ii
Twenty one days before
Jongdae fell in love with books when he was young, too young to understand most of the plots he was so eagerly taking in, but when music hit him, his love for books turned into something a little bit different. He was scribbling down sentences and words, strumming random chords on his guitar, trying so hard to write his first song, because it would mean that his choice of career wasn't stupid and he needed that. His father's eyebrows were judging, condescending, and his stature patronizing. Twelve year-old Jongdae was smaller, so close to the ground that staring at his shoelaces felt so much easier than looking up. He needed to know he was able to do it, that it wasn't just wishful thinking, but it turned harder than planned. On the third day, Baekhyun plopped down on his bed, the shadow of a smile lingering on his lips, and a thick book in his hands. He looked up from the worn-out pages, and read one quote out loud.
Jongdae can't even remember what the quote was about, but he does remember it felt like an explosion of colors in his mind, except that the colors were feelings, and the noises, words that wouldn't stop coming. Baekhyun finished the book, and Jongdae wrote his first song. Years later, his inspiration still comes from quotes, and Baekhyun's knowing little smiles.
There's this one quote though, that has been running in his mind for years now, heavy with feelings and words, words so deep they'd only need a light guitar melody to make sense, but it has never turned into a song, because Jongdae doesn't agree. It's a quote about Baekhyun, in a way, and Jongdae has been included pieces of Baekhyun all over his song for years, but it's never been only about Baekhyun. People wouldn't understand, and Jongdae knows it, because of that quote.
”Platonic love is love from the neck up.
Jongdae thinks about it everytime he hugs Baekhyun, hands fitting perfectly against Baekhyun's shoulderblades, or when he takes his hand, caressing the delicate skin between Baekhyun's fingers. He thinks about it when they sleep together, legs tangled and noses buried in messy strands of hair, or when Baekhyun kisses him on the temple. He loves Baekhyun's body, he loves how soft his skin is, so pale at some places that Jongdae gets to see the intricate web of pale blue veins. He loves how Baekhyun's curves answer to his own silhouette, the loud beating of his best friend's heart. He loves the shape of his lips, their warmth when they press against his own skin, and his lashes, dark an delicate. Jongdae doesn't only love Baekhyun's mind, Baekhyun's thoughts, and what makes Baekhyun Baekhyun, he doesn't only care about his best friend's brain and how he seems to have the answers to Jongdae's every questions, because it wouldn't be true love. He loves Baekhyun's everything, as childish as it may sound, and people wouldn't understand. Jongdae realises it again when the stewardess glances at them, at the empty seat next to him, because Baekhyun is wrapped all around him, warmer than the blanket on top of them, and perfect in every way. Jongdae loves Baekhyun's body, he loves having it against his, because it feels like it's where he belongs, but people always imagine sparks of hidden lust in the way they always seek for each other's touch. Maybe the world isn't ready for something so deep, so Jongdae keeps that song for himself. He doesn't mind, he likes it better when Baekhyun is only his.
“What do you want to do when we'll arrive in New York?” Baekhyun sleepily whispers. His breath tickles Jongdae when it crashes against his neck, and Jongdae smiles, palming Baekhyun's ribs for revenge.
“I don't know,” he answers when Baekhyun is done muffling his squeals of protest in the blanket. The plane is quiet, silence heavy with light snoring, and the sky is pitch black outside. “We'll be there for two days only. Junmyeon said the car will be ready on Wednesday.”
Baekhyun nods. When he blinks, his lashes flutter against Jongdae's jawline.
“You need to rest, because you'll be driving a lot. So we could, I don't know, do calm and not tiring stuff, like having a picnic in Central Park.”
Jongdae pictures green, trees and happy laughters in the back of his eyelids, and it makes him smile. It sounds great. His feet are tired of all the walking, and all the traveling is starting to get to him. There are dark rings popping up under Baekhyun's eyes as well. Maybe they do need the break. New York is huge, and they're so small. He remembers Junmyeon's please make sure to be well rested before the road trip baby, and it's all he needs to decides that Central Park will be their only stop in New York.
“There's something I want to do,” he adds, and Baekhyun hums, questionning. “I wanna see Friends appartment building.”
Baekhyun chuckles, and his whole body vibrates against Jongdae. He doesn't fight the smile pulling up at his lips and ends up chortling too. Baekhyun pulls the blanket up to their foreheads in a poor attempt to muffle their laughter.
“You're such a nerd,” he grumbles, his eye smile ruining the judging look he's sporting.
“Yeah,” Jongdae retorts. “Pretend you're not about to ask me if we can go see the How I Met Your Mother building too.”
Baekhyun's eyes narrow at him, barely visible in the darkness engulfing them.
“I hate you.”
This is Jongdae's favorite part, when he realises how wrong the quote is once again, only it's not about his own feelings this time. He's so aware of Baekhyun's pouty lips, and the fake death glare he sends him. His best friend is the best at pretending, he made Yixing believe he was angry at him for a whole month, but when it comes to Jongdae, Baekhyun is far from being convincing. The glares and the cold voice clash violently with the way he still clings to Jongdae, with the soft pressure of his foot against Jongdae's ankle, and the light touches against his sides, and that's exactly what makes the quote so wrong.
Because Baekhyun loves Jongdae's body just as much as Jongdae loves Baekhyun's.
Eighteen days before
It smells like leather, with a faint hint of sun and adventure. Jongdae pictures rays of sunshine, hot and blinding on the car's shiny hood while the tires eat up endless kilometers in the middle of a desert. He can almost feel the tan on his arm from the suffocating heat, and the sensation under his fingertips, bordering on burning, when he wraps his fingers around the hot wheel. The car is purring with every push of his foot on the pedal, and Jongdae should feel nervous about the vehicle's strong lines and how huge it feels between his hands, but his heart is thumping loudly with excitation. He forgets the papers carefully folded in the glove box, the insurance policy, and the red renting car all over it in favor of vast landscapes and empty roads already printed all over his eyelids. They're about to drive through the United States of America in a car that already feels like freedom when it's not even out of the parking yet, and it's strong enough for Jongdae to forget that this is the last step of their journey.
Baekhyun is sitting straight, long fingers constrasting in the prettiest way against the cream leather and pink lips slightly ajar with surprise.
“Did you know that--”
“Junmyeon rented a Ford Mustang 1969 for us?” Jongdae continues, fingers following the curve of the wheel. He shakes his head. “Nope. I had no idea.”
Baekhyun swallows, eyes wandering on the car's dashboard with glee. They're not that into cars, but this one is different. It's vibrating with the low rumbling of the engine, and it's kind of overwhelming, as if it was really there with them, seats permeated with thoughts of adventures and endless roads. In all honesty, it feels like they're not leading the way anymore, but the car is.
“I can't believe he paid for that car,” Baekhyun murmurs. “I can't believe he paid for all of that.”
Jongdae lets go of the hypnotizing game of reflections on the car's hood to turn his head towards Baekhyun.
“Really?” he asks with a little smile. “You can't?”
They've both always wanted to travel around the world as far as Jongdae can recall, but it never happened. It was never the moment, and they never really had the money to do it the way they wanted. They graduated from high school and instead of finding a job to take a sabbatical year, like they always said they would, they went in college. They worked for the tuition and the apartment, and when they finally graduated, real life was on their doorstep with hundreds of things to do that would leave no place for adventures and travels. Baekhyun became a schoolteacher, and Jongdae wrote three all-kill songs for K-Pop companies. Before they realised it, they were grown-ups, and grown-ups don't leave from one day to the next to fulfill little boys' daydreams.
Unlike Baekhyun, Jongdae is aware of the fact that the story would have ended there without Junmyeon, without his boyfriend's soft heart and his love, so strong, that he wouldn't even hesitate to offer to pay for all those things Baekhyun and Jongdae have always dreamed to do. He knows it's really different from what they were expecting when they were little kids, because when they talked about roadtripping across the USA, neither Baekhyun nor Jongdae would have imagined it would end the way it will, in a few days. But they're here, after all, they've seen many things, wonderful things, and Jongdae easily reads the realization in Baekhyun's eyes, melting some of the heaviness in his irises.
“Junmyeon really loves you a lot, doesn't he,” Baekhyun asks in a whisper-like voice, but Jongdae knows he doesn't expect any answer. “He paid for everything... He let you go with me.”
Jongdae smiles softly at this. He was forteen when he heard 'I'm sorry we're done here, you and Baekhyun are definitely in love' for the first time, and twenty years old, the last time. He was twenty one when he met Junmyeon, and he never heard it again.
“And you love him too,” Baekhyun adds. Jongdae doesn't like the underlying sense of fatality in Baekhyun's words, but he supposes it makes sense. He too kind of feels it.
Baekhyun glances at him. “I'm sorry, for everything. He's definitely a keeper, I'm--”
“It's okay,” Jongdae interrupts with a faint smile. He reaches and presses Baekhyun's hand in his, fingers instinctively going for the soft spot between Baekhyun's fingers. “I know.”
Baekhyun sends him a faint smile. He brings Jongdae's hand to his face and presses a kiss on his knuckles.
“Let's go,” Baekhyun says, letting go of Jongdae's hand. “New Orleans better be ready for us.”
“And our great car,” Jongdae adds.
“We need sunglasses. Cool sunglasses. Like Top Gun Tom Cruise sunglasses.”
Jongdae nods vigorously.
“First stop it will be!” he exclaims. Baekhyun cheers loudly, Jongdae keeps screaming, and the car joins with the rumbling of its engine when Jongdae finally drives out of the parking.
Twelve days before
New Orleans was supposed to be their stop for only a couple of days, but Jongdae and Baekhyun stay there for five whole days. It's not the tiredness of driving, it's how easily the car eats up the kilometers actually. It takes them more than one day to reach New Orleans, and every city they drive through hits them with a burst of adrenaline and freedom. The roads feel endless, they look endless, and Jongdae supposes he and Baekhyun both forgot limits and frontiers during those long hours in the car. So when New Orleans finally showed up, it had a bad taste, a bad light and it was a bitter reminder that everything comes to an end, eventually. Even a huge amount of kilometers. Jongdae spends the first night in the hotel counting what was left of their amazing trip, of freedom before the end. Baekhyun crosses out the cities they've been to and stares at the cities they have yet to go on the map. The number hits them, violent and merciless. Jongdae falls alseep wondering if the fainted scent of jasmine in Baekhyun's hair will still be there when no one will be there to smell it anymore. Baekhyun stays awake through the night, wondering if his heart will still beat as steadily as it is now when Jongdae won't be there to listen to it anymore.
It's a mutual agreement that actually don't need to be voiced, but they know they can't let New Orleans turn into a pit of regrets and fears. They've managed to keep every city beautiful and huge until then, and New Orleans won't be the only shadow in their memories.
So they sleep during most of the first day, fighting sleepiness and moody moods with long hours wrapped in comfortable blankets, and finally step outside when the sun is long forgotten behind the horizon line. It takes Jongdae less than an hour to realise they won't be leaving anytime soon. Actually, it takes one verse, sung by Baekhyun in the first karaoke bar they find, and with his best friend hitting a perfect high note during the chorus, Jongdae tastes endless and eternity again.
The thing about New Orleans, is that it feels haunted, but haunted in a good way. Baekhyun and Jongdae wake up with the moon, and New Orleans is already partying, already dancing to the sound of brass instruments playing in the streets. They go to bed right before the sun shows itself, and New Orleans is still paryting, still dancing to the sound of brass instruments playing in the streets. They're stuck in 1910, stuck in a mess of colors, laughters and music, drowning in too many songs, random French words and random strangers asking Jongdae and Baekhyun to join them.
Jongdae wonders how Baekhyun explains that they're still here on the third night when his best friend sings his fourth song. He knows why he doesn't want to leave, and it has nothing to do with the countdown dangerously nearing zero. Or maybe it has everything to do with it. Tokyo suited Baekhyun in the most beautiful way, in kaleidoscope of colors reflecting on his face through puddles of water. Rome looked like the craddle of every dream Baekhyun has ever had, and it was the perfect background for everything Baekhyun usually conceal. Paris was for the freedom Baekhyun had to put a collar on when he was younger. And New Orleans is for everything before that, for the Baekhyun Jongdae knew during high school and college. They had a band back then, and they used to street perform every week-ends, Jongdae with his old guitar, and Baekhyun with his mellow voice. It was before life, before graduation and responsabilities, and Jongdae never once thought he'd get to see his best friend like that again, and yet... New Orleans definitely brought them back to old times, brought cherished memories back to life, because Baekhyun still sings with his hand going up and down, and Jongdae is still awestruck.
Baekhyun plops down on the seat next to Jongdae, bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead due to the heat coming from the spotlights.
“So? How was I?” he asks, and Jongdae laughs because of the obvious pride in Baekhyun's smirk.
“Not that bad,” he jokes. “Not that bad.”
Baekhyun punches his arm before taking a sip of his Sazerac, the most delicious cocktail they both ever tasted.
“I think I'll call Kyungsoo when I'll be back in Seoul,” Baekhyun muses, eyes lost on the stage now occupied by two girls, a singer and remarkably good rapper. “I miss singing in a band.”
He throws a look at Jongdae, as if to gauge his reaction, and Jongdae knows why. He should be hurt, or maybe jealous, or... just overly sad, but it's not the case. If anything, he's beaming at the idea that college Baekhyun and real life Baekhyun will merge once again, even if he's not there to witness it. Baekhyun's features soften upon seeing his smile, and he leans in to press a kiss on Jongdae's cheek.
“You know we won't leave this place until you get up there and sing too, Dae.”
Jongdae nods with a smile. He knows. That's why he still hasn't sung yet.
“Do me a favor, Baek, please.” Baekhyun hums, questionning. “When you'll call Kyungsoo, tell him I'm still better than him.”
Baekhyun chuckles and wraps his fingers around his glass again. His other hand lingers under the table, settles on Jongdae's thigh, soft and warm. Baekhyun knows why they're still here, of course, and he knows why Jongdae hasn't sung yet, and he knows that he'll tell Kyungsoo exactly what Jongdae asked him to, and he know that singing without his best friend won't be the same. Jongdae watches Baekhyun's side profile with fond eyes, fighting the urge to poke his nose. That's the thing about New Orleans. It's haunted and it lives in the past, so it makes the future so much easier to swallow.
Jongdae sings on the fifth night, hand in hand with Baekhyun, eyes glued to his best friend's face, and Baekhyun's eyes glisten with something more than the multiple Sazerac he's drunk. That's how they leave New Orleans, wrapped around each other, and leaving the past behind. Leaving college Baekhyun behind. And it's what hurts Jongdae the most.
He sends a text to Kyungsoo later that day, when Baekhyun's not looking.
i hope you're not too busy saving lives, doctor, because i want you to sing with baekhyun again
Kyungsoo answers almost right away.
can't wait to show him how it is to sing with a truly talented partner
Jongdae falls asleep with the mental image of college Baekhyun, with his purple black hair and his too large hoodies, curled on the car's back seat, ready to go back to Korea.
Ten days before
The sun paints the Grand Canyon in shades of gold, red and orange as it slowly falls behind the horizon line, casting shadows on the rock that emphasize details and wonders they wouldn't have seen otherwise. The sky is burning, flames licking the last patches of blue, deadly and hungry, and the Grand Canyon stands even taller against the night's advances. It's hard to picture darkness in the canyon, pitch black shadows eating lines and depth, because the whole place looks like it's glowing on its own. Jongdae is squinting his eyes behind his sunglasses, blinded by the violent amount of gold thrown at him, from both the sky and the dusty ground at his feet, and he feels small, small and tall at the same time. Everything is so huge, not only in height, but also in feeling, and Jongdae is overwhelmed, unable to grasp everything he sees. His heart is beating fast against his ribcage, and part of him is already crying at the details he won't manage to burn on the back of his eyelids.
Baekhyun is watching the scenery, head slowly turning from right to left and left to right, and mouth agape as he tries to see it all. The sun is falling, lower and lower, pushed back by the darkness taking over the sky. It's like standing on the thin line between night and day. When Jongdae looks over his shoulder, it's dark and already sleeping. When he looks in front of him, it's burning, alive and blinding. He wishes it would stay like this forever.
It's been different since New Orleans, and they both can feel it. How could it not be anyway? They've reached the end of their trip, and the last stop, Los Angeles, is only eight hours away. And then it'll be done. The Grand Canyon is the only thing left for them to admire. So they do.
“I wish we had more time,” Baekhyun whispers as the night takes over his shadow, slowly but surely. Darkness is winning against the last explosions of light, and Jongdae thinks he's never seen anything that sad before.
It's the first time one of them voices out what they've both felt all along, but they're standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon, and when Baekhyun's words break the silence, they immediately fall down, deeper and deeper. They don't hear them crash on the ground.
“We would have gone to New Zealand,” Baekhyun continues, with the shadow of a smile on his face. Or maybe it's just a plain shadow. “We would have visited Bag End. I heard you can have your picture taken sitting on Bilbo's house doorstep.”
Jongdae watches his best friend's side profile with a little smile. New Zealand does sound like a great background for Baekhyun's blinding eye smiles.
“And then, London. For the Peter Pan statue in the Kensington Gardens.” He pauses, then adds in a more playful tone, that somehow doesn't match with the darkness falling over him. “You'd totally cry.”
Jongdae chuckles. “I would,” he approves. “I love Peter Pan.”
Baekhyun turns his face and his eyes immediately find Jongdae's. He slowly shrugs.
“I just wish we had more time.”
“We had plenty of time, already.”
“I know,” Baekhyun nods. The sun is fighting is last battle against the night on the horizon line, and it's painting gold and red on Baekhyun's left cheek. His right cheek is already dark and cold, pale and maybe even shivering. “But it'll never be enough. I will always want more time with you, Jongdae.”
Jongdae has been looking for something in the Grand Canyon that would remind him of Baekhyun since they got there, and he thinks that he may have finally found it. Baekhyun has been his world for so long, so he has all the wonders gracing the surface of the Earth somewhere in him, but what he has of the Great Canyon is that line between light and dark. It's both sunny and dark on his face, but it mixes so well with his soft cheeks and the fond look in his eyes, and Jongdae breaks. Baekhyun has been his world for so long.
He grabs his best friend's hand and pulls him against his chest, his own arms wrapping around Baekhyun's body, pressing him against his heart, palming the soft lines of his back muscles and burying themselves in his hair. His lips leave tiny kisses on Baekhyun's cheek, on his temple and his forehead, and when Jongdae feels it's not enough anymore, he stops them near Baekhyun's ear, and starts whispering. He whispers about everything, and it doesn't make any sense, except that it does, because Baekhyun is smiling against him, swallowing down his tears. Jongdae talks and talks, the sun loses its battle, the night engulfs them, but Jongdae keeps talking, and Baekhyun keeps smiling. Eventually, Jongdae has nothing more to say, but Baekhyun still have plenty of reasons to smile, so Jongdae keeps hugging him, pressing him closer to his chest, afraid that if he lets go, Baekhyun will stop smiling. He thinks about Baekhyun holding his hand since they were kids, and he smiles too.
This isn't goodbye yet.
Eight days before
Los Angeles falls on them like a big city. After roaming through the United States' wilderness, it's a little bit overwhelming, so they spend the first few hours watching the hustle and bustle down the streets from their hotel room's windows. There's a page entitled Los Angeles in the guide notes Junmyeon wrote for them, but he left it blank. They have to fill it themselves.
“We have one week,” Jongdae says from the floor where he's sitting with Baekhyun, leaning on the bed. They've ordered Chinese, but it doesn't really taste like Chinese. “We should make the most out of it.”
Baekhyun plunges his chopsticks into Jongdae's box. “I agree.”
Jongdae smiles, and swaps his and Baekhyun's boxes. The latter throws him a confused look.
“You always regret what you order,” Jongdae explains. “So I always order what I know you really want.”
“Really? Every time?”
“Yep.”
Baekhyun watches him with wide eyes.
“I always order the things I know you'll like because you swap our orders every time,” he confesses.
Jongdae freezes, and the noodles stuck between his chopsticks fall to the ground.
“You got to be kidding me.”
Baekhyun bites his tongue, but he's already too far gone, and the following second, he's literally rolling on the floor, laughing so hard it's making Jongdae's eardrums vibrate. It's the greatest way to start making the most of those seven days.
On the first day, they leave the hotel room separately. Baekhyun goes right and Jongdae goes left. He wanders through the city, snaps a few pictures and eats the biggest burger he's ever eaten sitting at a table alone. He calls Junmyeon, and they talk for two hours, even though Junmyeon isn't even out of bed yet. It feels great, listening to his boyfriend's voice, hearing his sleepy intonations and picturing him buried burrito style in his silk sheets, and it takes Jongdae less than two minutes to actually tear up and confess Junmyeon how much he misses him. Junmyeon chuckles, and comforts him in that low, raspy voice he only has early in the morning, and Jongdae feels like the luckiest man alive.
Later, while he's licking a strawberry ice cream and strolling through Grand Park, he wonders what would have been different if he and Baekhyun had fell in love differently. People always watch them funny when they say they're not a couple, but they're really not a couple. Sure, Jongdae likes to kiss Baekhyun's cheeks, he likes holding his hand and clinging to his arm. He also likes the scent of jasmine coming from his hair, and how soft his skin feels under his fingers, but there's no lust hidden somewhere in the back of his mind when he wraps his body all over Baekhyun at night. People tend to believe there is, because somehow, love has turned into a synonym of romantic love, and they have trouble grasping the idea of two people being deeply in love, and not wanting each other that way. Jongdae is perfectly fine with Baekhyun being more than a body he wants to worship, but he still wonders where they would be if Baekhyun had been not only his soulmate, but his lover too. They wouldn't be here, they wouldn't have done this trip, and there wouldn't be a countdown, but so many other things could have gone wrong. Jongdae wouldn't have Junmyeon, maybe he wouldn't even be a songwriter and, to be honest, Baekhyun feels perfect right where he is now. He's greater and bigger than what people see him as when they hold hands. It definitely suits him, being more and more until no one can describe him, until he'll never stop being more and more.
Jongdae walks back to the hotel when Los Angeles' nightlife comes back to life. His feet hurt, and his whole body is begging for a break through muscular aches and heaviness in his bones. He meets Baekhyun in the elevator, but they keep quiet, and his best friend's pinky finger softly strokes the back of his hand when they walk to their room, shoulders bumping from time to time. They collapse together on the bed, and both sigh heavily. Baekhyun will always be the person Jongdae wants to come home to after a long tiring day, and it feels great to have that again.
This is how, just like that, they made the most of the first day.
Tomorrow will be about randomly texting Baekhyun, asking if he needs food brought to him, and being quiet together, or just... being.
The day before
Los Angeles keeps living, too fast, way too fast.
Jongdae counts the hours, studies the roads to San Francisco's international airport, and scribbles on the map. He can count the remaining hours on his fingers, so he does, multiple times. Every time the night flies by, and he has to lower a finger, he wishes the other ones would be strong enough to stop time. Baekhyun packs. He takes the shirts he left in Jongdae's suitcase, folds them and puts them in his suitcase. He takes back his souvenirs, everything.
When Jongdae lowers his last finger, his hands don't have anything left to do, no minutes or seconds to try and keep forever, so they happily go back to Baekhyun's hands, palms pressing together, fingers fitting in the nicest way. Baekhyun kisses his knuckles after they threw both of their suitcases in the trunk, and Jongdae kisses Baekhyun's thumb mole before starting the car.
Baekhyun's fingers are so much easier to keep than the hours he tried so hard to stop, so Jongdae keeps them. Jongdae will always keep them.
D-Day
Baekhyun has his boarding pass in his hands. Jongdae doesn't. They're sitting next to each other, on those ugly seats you can find in every airport of the world, their silence drowned by the loud conversations echoing all around them. Jongdae glances at the line of travelers. There's still time.
“You'll take care of you, right?” Baekhyun asks, purposely looking at his shoelaces instead of Jongdae's face. (But Jondgae watches.)
“Of course. Will you?”
Baekhyun smiles and nods. Their eyes meet over the few inches of space between them, that will soon turn into oceans and whole countries. Jongdae thinks about that day, thirty nine days before, about Baekhyun's dazzling smile, the excitation filling his chest back then, and it's so different, yet almost the same.
“I'm not mad, you know,” Baekhyun says. “You made the right choice.”
Jongdae slowly nods. He knows he did, but it wasn't an easy one.
“Hey,” he grins, gently elbowing Baekhyun. “Now that I won't be here to intimidate your boyfriends anymore, maybe you'll find someone willing to put up with your shit.”
“Yeah,” Baekhyun chuckles, but his eyes suddenly turn serious, almost piercing. The change is violent, and it takes Jongdae by surprise. “But you'll still get to intimidate any potential serious lover, right? When we'll see each other again.”
There's a hidden question in Baekhyun's voice, and it reminds Jongdae of another one, as imploring, he read all over Junmyeon's face months ago. He finally answered yes to that one, and he's definitely going to say yes to Baekhyun's too.
“Of course,” Jongdae vigorously nods. “Just... don't date a tall guy. I'm too short to intimidate a tall guy.”
“Damn right you are,” Baekhyun mutters, eyes falling back to his shoelaces.
It's hard to keep quiet in an airport. Jongdae hears sobbing goodbyes, cheerful welcome backs and loud annoucements made through the speakers, and somehow, he and Baekhyun get mixed up with everything. It's kind of funny, in a sense, because he thought the sadness would be heavier, sharp enough to stop the world from turning, but it doesn't. The airport is vibrating with life. Jongdae glances at the line of travelers. They're running out of time.
“Maybe you'll meet them in the plane,” he smiles.
“You can't meet people in planes,” Baekhyun snorts. “People who try to start a conversation during flights are nothing but annoying, and also kind of weird. Like, let me listen to my music dude.”
Jongdae laughs. He shakes his head and pats Baekhyun's shoulder.
“You ray of sunshine,” he jokes, and Baekhyun grins.
All in all, Jongdae realises that he likes the noises and the chatting around them, because he wasn't ready to face a pain strong enough to stop the Earth. The smiles and excited bursts of laughters here and there are actually nice to listen to, and he sees the same faint spark of something more in Baekhyun's eyes. Jongdae's hand slide from his best friend's shoulder to the delicate skin of his wrist.
“It's not the end of the world, isn't it,” he says with a faint smile.
Baekhyun glances at him before looking over the departure lounge again. People are reading guide books with big grins, holding hands or talking excitedly to each others. Some of them are leaving for vacations, others are going back home, like that suit guy smiling down at his phone, longing obvious in his eyes, but none of them are screaming that the Apocalypse is over human kind already. There's a little smile blooming on Baekhyun's lips. He looks at Jongdae, and slowly shakes his head.
“I think it's not,” Baekhyun answers. “It doesn't look like it, anyway.”
Jongdae and Baekhyun both glance at the line of travelers. It's not a line anymore, so they both stand up, fingers instinctively closing on each other's hand.
“Take care of Junmyeon too,” Baekhyun says hastily. “He got his dream job, don't make him regret it.”
Jongdae shakes his head. “I won't,” he promises.
Baekhyun hesitates for a few seconds, his eyes flashing with a lot of things, memories, promises and words, but Jongdae knows them all already. His thumb strokes the back of Baekhyun's hand, and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.
“Go,” he says. “And call me when you land, okay?”
Baekhyun nods, but doesn't move. Jongdae doesn't either. He's not so sure about the Apocalypse thing anymore.
“I love you,” Baekhyun finally adds.
“I know.” Baekhyun watches him expectantly, and Jongdae smiles. “I love you too.”
He tries to disentangle his fingers from Baekhyun's upon seeing the stewardess's heavy eyes on them over Baekhyun's shoulder. Baekhyun's the only passenger left in the lounge.
“Don't,” Baekhyun urges him. His fingers easily find their way back between Jongdae, and he grips his hand harder, almost painfully. “Tell me it's not the end of the world again. Please,” he begs.
Jongdae watches his best friend. Baekhyun is out of breath, as if he's just run a marathon, and his eyes are glistenning with tears. It gives a new depth to the blackness of his irises, and a kind of epic feeling to his long lashes, now sporting a tiny few droplets. He's beautiful, with his pink lips and the softness of his cheeks, long -too long- bangs covering his eyebrows, merging so pleasantly with his slightly tanned skin. Jongdae takes in the delicate features and the strength he knows hidden behind them, Baekhyun's lip mole, and his round nose. He thinks about how different Baekhyun's laugh sounds when it's three in the morning, how his hair always somehow smells like a lost garden, wild and free, and about his eyelids closing on his eyes whenever Baekhyun sings his heart out. The stewardess clears her throat, but Baekhyun keeps watching him with begging and teary eyes, so tiny, and so tall at the same time. Byun Baekhyun will always be more and more and more and more.
“It's not,” Jongdae assures him with a little smile. “It's not the end of the world, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun slowly nods, blinking away the tears.
“Ready?” Jongdae asks.
Slender fingers seize the space between his and press softly against his knuckles. Baekhyun flashes him another dazzling smile.
“Ready.”
The air feels heavy in his lungs, like he's trying to breath in some liquid metal and it's invading his lungs, weighing down on his bones. Feelings involving Jongdae tend to get violent, Baekhyun knows it, but for a short second, he fears that it's true, that it's seriously turning him into lead, so heavy, that he'll fall through the plane, tearing a hole in its floor. Maybe he'll get to drown in an ocean, and he'll fall deeper and deeper until all the lead in his body becomes salt. He smiles, picturing himself lying on the ocean floor, making snow angels in the sand. Sand angels. Sand angels made of salt.
Baekhyun can hear Jongdae's high-pitched laugh, the mockery in his words and the fondness in his eyes, and he ends up smiling at himself, at the randomness of his own thoughts.
“Hi,” someone says, pulling Baekhyun out of his reverie. He turns his head, and his eyes settle on a man, still standing in the alley, looking down at him with a warm smile. He has big eyes and a toothy grin that somehow doesn't go well with the tie around his neck, not the mention the messy hair and and the sincere kindness written all over his face. He looks way too nice to be a business man.
“Hi,” Baekhyun smiles back.
“This is my seat,” the guy says, showing the free seat next to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun nods. He watches while the man, who doesn't look any older than him, puts his bag in the overhead bin, and his eyes unintentionally follow the long, long legs stretching out in front of him.
Take that, Kim Jongdae.
After
In the duplex Junmyeon got for them in San Francisco -thanks to the great money his big promotion earned him (“Oh god Junmyeon, that's a lot of zeros... but hey, you're the new CEO, I bet you can ask for more. I bet you can totally buy a 1969 Mustang.”)- Jongdae finally writes about Baekhyun.
It's his first English song, because English is the language he talks on his everyday life now, and it's only about Baekhyun. He uses a light guitar melody, and sings about how easy it is to be his best friend, how easy it is to love Byun Baekhyun, for his thoughts, but also for his body, from his delicate ankles to the grace of his neckline. Jongdae puts a quiet built-up before the first chorus, uses the piano for all those times he and Baekhyun talked about absurd projects -and excuted many of them- and sings with a lot of high notes, because they suit Baekhyun's ability to answer to all of his fears the best. He sings about colors, purple and blue, seen through a kaleidoscope and painting Baekhyun's cheek, about one tiny padlock with their names on it, and cities that never sleep, that never grow old. But Jongdae's favorite part is the outro, loud and passionate outro, because it tells how much he misses Baekhyun, and how, even though they now live on different continents, Baekhyun is still taking over all the space around him. Baekhyun is still his person. (He'll always be.)
Jongdae doesn't sell the song. He thinks that, maybe, he'll sing that one.
<< part 1
Please, keep in mind that I've never been to several of the cities and places included in the fic.
Cla,
A few weeks ago, you talked to me about writing a platonic relationship, and I kind of freaked out, because if you wrote it before I had the chance to publish your birthday fic, I would have ended up really sad.
I know it's not your birthday yet, but I still wish you the happiest day tomorrow, from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you for being my soulmate, and for understanding me even when I don't. I don't mind not finding my own words that much anymore, because I know you'll always have them for me. Thank you, for everything.
I love you.