Charm Me (but don’t play tricks on me) for natsudive 3/3
He considers flying to America, but who knows what happened to Chanyeol? Given his character, if he’d made it big, he’d definitely not stay in America. Kyungsoo knows Chanyeol likes Europe more. Basking in the pretty lights of Paris and walking through the streets of Hamburg. Chanyeol’d like that. Shrugging, he unpacks his luggage and sets all his clothes back into his wardrobe, only changing into a t-shirt and jeans. Slipping his sneakers on, he heads out.
The hearth of Hongdae is a bustling scene, and it’s even more gorgeous when it’s right after dinnertime and the street lights and the strings of colored lights hung around tall trees are thrown on. There’s a singing competition somewhere to Kyungsoo’s left side, and people are gathered in a ring to watch, and Kyungsoo would have joined if he didn’t have something to do now.
He steps into a bar, and he’d be intimidated if he hadn’t been here before, but he has. With Chanyeol, some time ago, they’d been here, watching all the card tricks displayed proudly on bar counters and coffee tables around comfortable couches. Chanyeol would whisper how to do it into Kyungsoo’s ears, but then Kyungsoo was too distracted with the feel of Chanyeol’s lips on his ears sometimes (just brushes of lips against his ear, but) to pay attention to what Chanyeol was trying to get at.
The manager, Wufan, looks at him with a puzzled tilt of his head and later comes by to say hi when he realizes who Kyungsoo is. “You’ve been here a lot, with the taller boy, didn’t you?”
“You still remember?” Kyungsoo laughs. “I still remember when you had to separate two guys fighting and got yourself drenched in beer.”
Wufan chuckles. “I’m Wufan.”
“You have that on your name tag,” Kyungsoo just says. “I’m Kyungsoo.”
“Why are you here alone today?”
Kyungsoo swirls the slice of lemon around in his glass of cocktail. “There wasn’t anyone to accompany me.”
“What about that boy-” Wufan starts, but realizes it’s a bad one as Kyungsoo’s expression softens to something like sadness. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” Kyungsoo says. “It’s fine. He… left Korea to pursue his dreams. I should move on and be happy because he is, right? But I can’t stop thinking about him… So now I’m here to catch up with him and go to wherever he is.”
“Here?” Wufan raises a brow. “To catch up with him?”
“Mmm,” Kyungsoo hums. “He loves magic. He’s off to America to become a magician or something. I need your help, Wufan. Help me become like him. In terms of skills, at least.”
“Wait, is his name Chanyeol? Park Chanyeol?”
Kyungsoo looks up from his drink and looks at a confused Wufan but he nods. Wufan hops off the high stool and rushes to somewhere inside the bar and comes rushing out with a book in his hands. His hair is all tousled from the hassle and he passes the magazine to Kyungsoo with a grin. “He’s featured in this month’s issue. It’s an international magic newsletter or some sort. We’ve subscribed to it since like half a decade ago, and he’s been appearing on here since a year ago.”
Shaky hands lift the magazine nearer to Kyungsoo’s face and under the soft lights of the bar’s dim lighting, Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol’s picture, smile bright and hair dyed a lighter brown that it had been when they’d said goodbye. He’s wearing a black top hat, hands tucked inside the pockets of his black pants and the black sleeveless vest over his white dress shirt is making Kyungsoo’s head spin. “It’s him,” Kyungsoo breathes. Wufan pats his back and hops off the chair again; figuring Kyungsoo must need a moment with his feelings.
Kyungsoo reads through every word of the exclusive interview with Chanyeol, and his heart skips a beat at the end.
Q: This career is actually quite a risky one. Do you have anyone supporting you, at your back if you met any setbacks?
Chanyeol: (Smiling) Ah, that. My family is supportive of my passion and my friends back in school gave me a lot of support for what I love to do. My best friend even picked up magic with me. I’m thankful for what they think about what I do.
Best friend. Chanyeol remembers him! Kyungsoo hops off the stool with shaky legs and walks to where Wufan is, and Wufan is already ready with a smile. Kyungsoo spends the rest of the night looking at how other people execute their tricks, and sometimes Kyungsoo whoops a little too loudly when he notices the loopholes when the magicians perform. It’s not much, but he’s already learning a lot.
It’s near midnight, and Kyungsoo thanks Wufan once again, with a promise to come back some time soon. He scrambles to get on the last train home, and almost misses his stop with drool still wet on his cheek as he hops off the train.
-
“You’re kidding,” is what Jongin tells him when Kyungsoo packs his luggage.
It’s been a good year after Kyungsoo first patrons Wufan’s bar alone and Wufan (with some other guys in the bar) had signed him up for a showcase-cum-contest thing held in Beijing without his consent, and as much as Kyungsoo wanted to be angry for signing up without him even knowing, he couldn’t, with Wufan patting his hair and telling him that he was good enough.
“I’m not,” Kyungsoo chirps. “I’ll be in Beijing for five days.”
“What about me? What about Sehun? We were going to depend on you for food since we’re going on a vacation to Busan and we wanted to invite you along, you know?” Jongin says sadly.
“No please, there is no way in hell I am tagging along like a gooseberry. And I’m not interested in feeling the awkward teenager sexual tension in the air,” Kyungsoo says and laughs when Jongin slaps his thigh.
“Well, fine. But we’ll be there to send you off before your flight, okay. And fetch you when you come back. Skype us or I will burn your house down before you even get home, I swear.”
-
It’s the day of Kyungsoo’s flight, and Jongin and Sehun turn up at the Incheon International Airport as promised, Jongin with a card and Sehun with a bunch of flowers. “I don’t know if they’ll let you bring them over to Beijing, or if they’ll die on the plane, but I won’t get mad if you throw them away,” Sehun says with a grin.
Jongin says nothing, but they both wave when Kyungsoo walks through the departure gates.
Later, on the plane, Kyungsoo takes out the card from Jongin and opens it to read.
I still want to thank you for being such a great friend, even though we met like, 10 years ago. Good luck for your contest and good luck finding Chanyeol. Remember to Skype me!
Kyungsoo folds the card and slips it back inside the yellow envelope before tucking it into his bag. This brat, he thinks, and smiles before falling asleep.
-
The contest comes and goes, and Kyungsoo doesn’t win anything major nor did he meet Chanyeol like he’d wished for, but he ends up with many job offers. There’s a man with gelled blond hair offering a performer spot to Kyungsoo, a philanthropist with slits for eyes and fiery red hair who’d asked if Kyungsoo was interested in performing for children for charity, and a sincere man with mango-yellow hair who asked if Kyungsoo was looking for a manager.
He ends up contracting with the man, Yixing, was that his name, and all Kyungsoo hoped is that he gets more chances to bump into Chanyeol. Yixing finds trainers to hone Kyungsoo’s skills and he finds that he’s more suited for the expression of emotion rather than performance. Yixing claps in glee and spins Kyungsoo around when the trainers decide that Kyungsoo should specialize in hypnosis instead.
“Emotion manipulator,” Kyungsoo reads off a book, eyes bored. He’d come over to find Chanyeol but if he stops doing performance magic, how would he ever?
-
The next time Kyungsoo gets to see Chanyeol is at Chanyeol’s next performance. He doesn’t really know how and why, but Yixing shakes him up from sleep one morning, toothbrush wedged between his lips and Kyungsoo laughs at the ring of white foam around his mouth as Yixing rolls his eyes. “For you,” Yixing says, although the envelope had already been opened. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes back when Yixing trudges back to the washroom. Managers.
-
Kyungsoo’s ticket glitters shiny gold when they walk under the warm orange lights in the reception area outside the concert hall. He tries to see himself in the reflection on the ticket, but is met with Yixing’s face as he shoots Kyungsoo with a knowing glance when Kyungsoo skirts his fingers over the ticket. The name Park Chanyeol is bolded and embossed at the top of the piece of glossy paper. Kyungsoo flicks at it, annoyed by the rush of emotions in him caused by this flimsy piece of paper (it probably isn’t flimsy because it feels expensive), and Yixing ushers them both in with glasses of white wine with a knowing sigh.
They scramble all over the place to find their seats, but they end up at the front seats. Golden tickets, indeed. A woman from three seats beside them wave in Kyungsoo’s direction and he squints in the dim light to recognize her. Krystal, was she called? Kyungsoo can’t remember, but she was a hypnotic, like him, so he does, maybe a little. He returns the wave politely and takes his seat. It seems like all the contestants from the previous tournament were invited to Chanyeol’s show in Las Vegas, and it’s not like Kyungsoo’s complaining, since he gets to see Chanyeol.
The curtains finally draw and amidst the loud applause, Kyungsoo realizes that his heart still stops at the sight of Chanyeol, albeit the many times he’s seen Chanyeol, seen Chanyeol doing this. Yixing clears his throat from the side and Kyungsoo realizes he’s staring, gaping, even, and he straightens his posture. It’s dark and he’s blushing and nobody can probably see but he knows Yixing knows. It’s all about the etiquette, Yixing had said once, but it’s so dark no one would probably see. Kyungsoo hisses once and Yixing chuckles silently.
Chanyeol’s undoubtedly flawless when it comes to performing, if Kyungsoo hadn’t already confirmed that so many years ago, a confident grin on his face even when his hands catch fire because he blows at the flames lightly and it turns into a bunch of bright red roses. He throws them at the audience with a wild wave and Kyungsoo catches one, flustered.
It’s nothing extraordinary, and the rose will probably wilt in two days even if Kyungsoo puts it in a vase of water and change the water regularly, but it feels magical in his hands.
Chanyeol’s show ends with a bang as he claps and the entire hall is filled with bubbles. Yixing pokes at one and he lets out a little gasp, fascinated when it pops at his touch.
“Thank you,” Chanyeol says, and the curtains are lowered after he bows. Kyungsoo joins in the applause with the stalk of rose clenched tightly in his hold, and realizes that the thorns don’t hurt, despite the angry red marks he discovers on his palms later.
-
Slowly but steadily, Kyungsoo gains fame, and with fame come its responsibilities and cost. Social gatherings were one way to deal with all the connections he and Yixing have with people in the circle, but it’s also the most effective and common one. One thing that Kyungsoo really hates about all these publicity and high-end gatherings is that he gets scrutinized from head to toe by media representatives and bosses of huge companies and it makes him feel extremely uncomfortable. They stare at him like he’s a piece of meat on sale and it’s only Yixing’s warm, guiding hand on his back that keeps him going with a forced smile on his face.
Yixing sighs and passes Kyungsoo a glass of iced water. It’s a comforting gesture, and Kyungsoo’s anxiety melts away a little - his nerves are always reeling when he has to socialize, especially in such situations, albeit attending these events so many time already, and Yixing knows him well enough to understand when Kyungsoo stutters, trips over his own words or excuses himself to the washroom one too many times.
“Just pretend you have a sore throat or something. I’ll do the talking for you,” Yixing says, firm hand on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. The material of Kyungsoo’s sleek black blazer is thick, but he feels the warmth from Yixing’s hand. He nods furtively with a meek smile. Thank god Yixing was assigned as his manager, actually, because he can’t imagine what would happen if Kyungsoo were to work with someone else who is definitely not as patient or nice as Yixing. He gulps, hands turning clammy around the exterior of the glass.
And Yixing does what he promises. When the annoying businessmen come by, with excuses of asking about the next show just to ogle at Kyungsoo to see if he’s worth any economic price, Yixing swats the offers away smoothly (politely), so much so that the businessmen retreat without much bite. Kyungsoo just plays along and sips water continuously, gaze locked on the water as Yixing talks.
After some time, though, after Kyungsoo has downed five glasses of cold water, he stumbles a little and Yixing hoists him upright. “What’s wrong?”
“I - I need to pee. Oh my god. Be right back,” Kyungsoo says, the new heels of his dress shoes clicking against the polished marble loudly as he waves at Yixing before dashing off to the washroom. On the way there, he’s almost stopped by five reporters with grabby hands but Kyungsoo manages to escape and he’s panting by the time he’s at the door of the washroom.
He quickly shuts the door behind him as he gets into the washroom, gulping loudly as his heart pounds against his ribcage painfully. What a pain to be famous, he muses.
When he’s all done and drying his hands with the paper towels at the sink, the door is thrown open and Kyungsoo’s jaw drops at the familiar figure. Kyungsoo’s reminded of sleepless nights on a bed that’s not his, earphones jammed in his ears as he tries to drown out the sounds of Chanyeol sleeping - probably drooling on one of the albums they were listening to before Chanyeol dozed off. Kyungsoo’s reminded of leaving Korea right after he got out of university, not once glancing at the job his parents insisted that he should take up, to a run-down performance bar in Hongdae, until he’s picked up and ‘adopted’ by Yixing, who later introduces Kyungsoo to his management company. Kyungsoo’s reminded of why he’s here exactly, pulse still racing from running away from nosey reporters.
Park Chanyeol is in a navy checkered trench coat and a pair of black jeans that fit around his thighs snugly, and he leans against the door wearily as he hiccups. Kyungsoo tries to breathe but he forgets how to. The strangled choke that leaves his lips is what has Chanyeol turning his head to look at him.
Chanyeol’s eyes are bloodshot and his lips are deliciously red, and he gets up, stumbles all the way until he’s just half a step away from Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo can smell the alcohol that Chanyeol’s had before this. It’s reeking and Kyungsoo wants to step away but Chanyeol’s arms are strong and he quickly cages Kyungsoo against the wall with his arms before Kyungsoo can attempt any kind of escape.
“You…” Chanyeol starts, hot breath fanning against Kyungsoo’s forehead (he’s still this tall, Kyungsoo thinks bitterly, heart pounding), “you look like Kyungsoo.”
And Kyungsoo would be lying to say that his heart didn’t do a flip at the mention of his name. Chanyeol is deliriously drunk, and the way Kyungsoo’s name is tumbling out of his lips is sending waves of butterflies in Kyungsoo’s stomach. “K-Kyungsoo?” Kyungsoo says, not daring to meet Chanyeol’s eyes in case he recognizes him.
“You look like my Kyungsoo…” Chanyeol says, and he hiccups weakly before his arms slide down the mosaic walls. Kyungsoo could’ve ran away by now, could’ve been in the safe company of Yixing again, but he takes in how disheveled Chanyeol looks like now, and how he had referred to Kyungsoo as his. Kyungsoo flushes and chews on his bottom lip as he crouches down to poke at Chanyeol’s cheek.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know if he’s ready to take the risk, so he sighs and snaps his fingers. He knows and remembers when his trainer had taught him. Strike when the iron’s hot. Chanyeol’s head lolls in front, and Kyungsoo catches his body when he slumps against Kyungsoo. This had better work-
“Do you know me?” Kyungsoo ventures, after he helps Chanyeol lean his back against the wall, and he watches as Chanyeol’s eyelids flutter open. Kyungsoo vividly remembers waking up to Chanyeol snoring on Saturday mornings, and pretending that he wasn’t staring when Chanyeol finally wakes, long eyelashes and all.
“No,” Chanyeol moans weakly, but he sits up and leans his back against the wall. Kyungsoo frowns. “But you look like someone I know,” Chanyeol continues, and he leans in so close Kyungsoo can literally feel Chanyeol’s eyelashes on his cheeks.
He doesn’t know what spurred him on, but he has a handful of the collar of Chanyeol’s nicely ironed white dress shirt as Chanyeol’s eyes light up glassily. Chanyeol presses in close, lips finally touching Kyungsoo’s as his arms wrap around Kyungsoo’s body greedily.
When Kyungsoo’s tongue finally slides together with Chanyeol’s, he cringes at the taste of bitter hard liquor but Chanyeol’s fingers hook onto the belt loops of Kyungsoo’s jeans to pull him down into his lap. Chanyeol sucks on Kyungsoo’s bottom lip as Kyungsoo moans out loud at the contact, and Kyungsoo is rutting against Chanyeol when Chanyeol slides warm palms across Kyungsoo’s abdomen. “Wait,” Kyungsoo whimpers against Chanyeol’s mouth as he pulls away. Has the washroom always been this warm? Kyungsoo can’t remember. He messily undoes his bowtie and tosses his blazer on the floor in a pile beside them as Chanyeol works on the buttons of his shirt with glassy eyes.
A blush blooms on Kyungsoo’s face and spreads all the way down to his chest when he sees Chanyeol drinking in the sight of his body. Chanyeol growls and latches his mouth on the side of Kyungsoo’s neck before licking a hot trail right down to his collarbones. His hands come up to pinch at Kyungsoo’s nipples, relishing in the little controlled moans that leave Kyungsoo’s lips and Kyungsoo whines, legs quivering when Chanyeol dips his tongue into his navel.
It’s a blur, but Kyungsoo has his jeans kicked to somewhere under the sink pretty soon, and so are Chanyeol’s, and Kyungsoo is about to explode but he takes Chanyeol’s cock into his mouth anyway, heady with the feeling of Chanyeol’s fingernails sinking into his scalp and the way Chanyeol’s thighs tense when Kyungsoo sucks harder.
“Oh god,” Chanyeol mutters, and he stops moving to ease his cock out of Kyungsoo’s mouth and Kyungsoo bets he’s looking like a hungry kitten right now, ass resting on his folded legs as he looks up with anticipation. Chanyeol leans down to help Kyungsoo stand up and Kyungsoo isn’t even stable on his jelly-like feet before Chanyeol pushes them to the nearest wall, and Kyungsoo lets out a squeaky moan when he feels the blunt tip of Chanyeol’s cock poke at his back.
There’s a little hesitation in Chanyeol’s movements by now, and Kyungsoo’s picked it up, so he places a hand on the side of Chanyeol’s face and places his index finger on Chanyeol’s lips. “Maybe you should just call me Kyungsoo, since I won’t tell you my name anyway.”
“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol whispers drowsily. Kyungsoo grins and Chanyeol’s pressed up against Kyungsoo again, mouths sliding together filthily and when Chanyeol nudges three fingers against Kyungsoo’s lips, he has no problem obliging and sucking them obediently. Kyungsoo flinches when he feels the first finger slide in but when the second finger is buried inside him, he feels his guts burning with desire.
“Hurry up,” Kyungsoo groans as Chanyeol crooks all three fingers in Kyungsoo. It’s not enough. Kyungsoo’s knees are about to buckle but Chanyeol lets Kyungsoo wrap his legs around his waist as he pulls his fingers out and pushes his cock in slowly.
The slow burn and stretch of Chanyeol’s thick cock has Kyungsoo’s eyelids flying open, teeth clenched in a hiss as Chanyeol sucks on a patch of skin at the column of Kyungsoo’s neck. Chanyeol rocks slowly, and the pain subsides, and then the pace becomes too slow. “Faster,” Kyungsoo demands, arms wound tight around Chanyeol as Chanyeol thrusts in, shallow at first, but later he increases his pace and Kyungsoo throws his head back in muted pleasure, the dull thud of the back of his head against the cold wall incomparable to the pleasure he’s feeling.
“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol moans, and Kyungsoo knows that he’s about to come, with Chanyeol snapping his hips up harder and harder and Kyungsoo’s cock is slick with pre-come between their bodies.
And Kyungsoo comes first, with a strangled cry of Chanyeol’s name and he slumps against Chanyeol weakly as Chanyeol orgasms as well. Kyungsoo looks at Chanyeol’s face, ablaze with ecstasy as he thinks about the slim chances of them ever meeting again. Heck, Chanyeol doesn’t even know he’d met Kyungsoo.
After they get dressed, Chanyeol slides down the wall in fatigue and stretches his hand out to ask Kyungsoo to join him, but Kyungsoo’s heart clenches with something like ache (he hasn’t felt this in a while) and the rational part of him decides against it. He’d rather go out and have some exclusive interviews with some reporters or something.
Chanyeol begins to snore, arm falling weakly beside his body as he sleeps and when Kyungsoo closes the door behind him, he inhales and fills his lungs with the smell of expensive champagne and cologne and other things that are not Park Chanyeol and starts walking back to where Yixing is.
-
Chanyeol wakes up with a splitting headache, and a very painful boner. He wonders what happened last night while he was drunk at the party.
His manager, Baekhyun storms into his room with a bowl of patbingsu (still cold, Chanyeol thinks sleepily, watching the icy gas spiral from the dessert) and he scowls at Chanyeol. “You weigh like a fucking elephant. Do you know how hard it was for me to haul you back home last night? God. And the next time you have steamy sex in the washroom, please remember to wash your hands, good lord,” he says, mouth full of melted ice and mashed red beans, “I was so pitiful last night, I washed your face and your hands and you had fucking come on your hands. I swear to God, Park Chanyeol.”
Chanyeol blinks pointedly and Baekhyun growls before turning on his heels, mumbling about ungrateful celebrities as he plops on the couch outside again.
Chanyeol waits for Baekhyun to go silent before he curls up in bed again, recalling his dreams. It’d been about him in school, it’d been about Kyungsoo. It’s not the first time he’s dreamt about Kyungsoo, but it’s definitely a first time that they’d been having sex in their dreams. Chanyeol can’t even think about it without his cheeks heating up and the erection in his loose drawstring pants is growing uncomfortably hard.
Judging by what Baekhyun said earlier, he probably doesn’t know what happened last night before Chanyeol fell asleep in the washroom either. Chanyeol sighs in frustration and walks to the shower, careful of his (currently purpling) cock. If he keeps having dreams about Kyungsoo and no actual sex in real life, he might get a really serious case of blue balls.
He sighs again, and turns the shower temperature to the lowest level. A cold shower should help.
-
In between schedules of magic shows and contest rounds, Kyungsoo finds his nights to be filled with Chanyeol and the scent of cherry blossom clinging onto Chanyeol’s bed sheets, not that he minds, but the peculiar thing is that before Chanyeol wakes up, Kyungsoo leaves without a trace. And when they meet in the afternoons, Chanyeol doesn’t seem to remember about the times they’ve spent in his room - kissing, cuddling, fucking, whatever.
A part of Kyungsoo is horror-stricken with the idea that he might be too deprived of Chanyeol to have cooked those dreams up, but another part of him is swimming in misery when he realizes that if those nights were real, only Kyungsoo remembers and knows them. Chanyeol doesn’t, Kyungsoo thinks, watching Chanyeol laugh and teach young kids how to make rabbits disappear, and while grinning at Kyungsoo; Kyungsoo finally knows. He doesn’t. Kyungsoo is trained in hypnosis, damn well he is, and his trainer had told him, that no matter what, this is a magic that cannot fail. He’d abided by that rule so much, so much so that when Chanyeol looks at him with a grin, Kyungsoo’s heart aches. Chanyeol doesn’t know.
-
It’s three shots of liquor later, in the late evening of a lazy Saturday, that Chanyeol gets the courage to actually do something about Kyungsoo and him. He isn’t exactly sure what there is between them - yes, they’re high school best friends, and they’ve been too intimate too many times, but what’s lacking is still a label for the relationship they have. He stumbles a little, while Baekhyun snickers; ending up at the long mirror on the wall instead of the couch he was aiming for.
“There’s a party in my pants, and you’re invited,” Chanyeol says and grins into the mirror, but he cringes and growls. Baekhyun continues to flip through pages of a fashion magazine on the couch behind Chanyeol without much interest.
“I actually just want to fuck you?” Chanyeol tries again, and Baekhyun hisses from the couch this time.
“Chanyeol, there is something else that normal human beings do before jumping into sex like the wild rabbits you two are, and we call it dating, for your information,” Baekhyun says, tossing the magazine on the coffee table before taking another copy.
“I don’t know how to ask him that,” Chanyeol mumbles. “All we’ve been doing is spend nights together-”
“Touching each other inappropriately,” Baekhyun interrupts. “Yes, that I know. I can hear your passion all the way from my room actually, Chanyeol, but you’ve been so uptight about all of this - I mean, and he doesn’t even know that you know what happens during those nights.”
“What if he knows? I’m already so bad at acting,” Chanyeol mulls.
“Well, what if you aren’t a completely insensitive dick? Isn’t he your high school crush from like three hundred years ago? Just go ask him out, I’d say.”
“I don’t know…” Chanyeol trails off, burying his head into his palms. “I’m scared.”
“Will I spend my night in beautiful Shanghai consoling a lovesick man?” Baekhyun deadpans. “Chanyeol, I am actually your events manager, not a psychologist, a counselor, nor do I run an advice column on how to deal with heartbreaks and rejection. Chanyeol, man up. I don’t see what’s so hard about asking someone out, and you’re a man who’s actually able to charm so many women in one second.”
“He’s a man,” Chanyeol replies sadly.
Baekhyun gawks at Chanyeol wordlessly. “I’m going to bed. You figure out your own life for once. Good night.”
“Good night,” Chanyeol says, to the mirror when Baekhyun’s walking back to his room.
Chanyeol spends the night up, and he has a list of the cheesiest methods to confess to Kyungsoo, but the more he rehearses in his room the more he thinks they’re bound to fail. He whines loudly, and gathers the papers before tossing them in the bin angrily. He’s always been well-planned, every step carefully calculated and estimated before he executes, but Kyungsoo is too hard a nut to crack and he’s afraid that all his strategies might actually fail him. Chanyeol doesn’t take failure well.
Fuck it, he thinks. I’ll just go visit him in the morning and see what happens then.
-
“I think I’m sick of wanting Chanyeol all the time,” Kyungsoo concedes finally, curled up in a ball on his bed when Yixing walks by. It’s a Sunday morning, and there’s nothing on, but Yixing is up just because he’s used to his morning routines and Kyungsoo is awake because he couldn’t even fall asleep to begin with.
Yixing rolls his eyes, smiles and continues to walk but his head turns towards Kyungsoo again after taking a step. “Sorry, I just tend to shut off when you mention Chanyeol, but did you just say you’ll give up on him?”
Kyungsoo nods. “He doesn’t even remember those nights we had,” he murmurs, and slinks further into his blankets as he blushes.
“Is that some kind of illness? What kind of person would forget that - and it’s been so many times, Kyungsoo,” Yixing says, sitting on the edge of Kyungsoo’s bed.
“I did some things to his head,” Kyungsoo sighs, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m sick of this, Yixing. I don’t want to make him forget anymore, but I can’t imagine if he does know who I am and what we do every time, I’m so sick of this, Yixing, help me.”
“How do I even help you,” Yixing huffs, and eyes the clock on the wall. “Do you want to leave for Paris now? You have a show there in two days but I’ve booked the hotel one day before, too. It’s still early so you won’t bump into Chanyeol when we leave.”
“Yes please, thank you, hyung,” Kyungsoo says, and Yixing ruffles Kyungsoo’s hair quietly.
“I’ll wake you up after I’m done with everything, so take a nap first, okay?”
-
The alarm on his phone goes off as Chanyeol sits up in bed in a sudden motion, eyes puffy from having barely slept a wink last night. He scratches his back lazily, and proceeds to throw on some decent clothes (a polo tee and jeans look pretty decent, in his opinion), but he freezes in his tracks as he realizes what he’s forgetting.
“Kyungsoo,” he says, and shoves the polo tees aside. He puts on a button-down shirt instead, with a pair of black slacks, and heads out of his room.
“You look too styled up for a breakfast and too formal to be Park Chanyeol. Did all the liquor last night actually burn your brain?” Baekhyun manages say, toothbrush still wedged in between his teeth, a ring of foam around his mouth. “I should’ve known.”
“I’m going to talk to Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says happily, throwing his fist up into the air.
“I’ve been trained to not develop any form of attraction towards you, Park Chanyeol, but as a companion instead of your manager, I’d like to say good luck.”
Chanyeol laughs and slings his blazer over his shoulder as he leaves and shuts the door behind him. “Why, thank you, Baekhyun. See you at breakfast.”
-
It’s almost ten, and the coffee in the brewers is turning lukewarm instead of piping hot. Chanyeol stares at the tables impatiently, guts burning with questions because he knows Kyungsoo is not one to be late, not for cramming sessions, nor for free food. His own stomach growls in protest - the result of Chanyeol waiting at the table without eating just to wait for Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo doesn’t even turn up.
-
“Do Kyungsoo?” The lady at the reception counter replies, and looks up from her computer screen with an apologetic smile. The burn in Chanyeol’s guts expands and swirls uncomfortably. “He checked out earlier this morning,” she says. “Personally, as a fan of his, I can tell you that he’s on his way to his next show in Paris.”
-
Chanyeol spends the rest of his morning on the couch back in their suite, legs tucked to his chest as he rests his chin on his knees. The scratchy material of his clothes is gnawing at his tolerance but he refuses to move. He’d gathered up so much courage inside to tell Kyungsoo how he feels, but it still failed…
“Eat something,” Baekhyun says, lifting a paper plate filled with food from breakfast earlier near Chanyeol’s face. “I saw you standing there without even eating, so I saved some for you.”
“Thanks,” Chanyeol mumbles, taking the plate but setting it on the table beside. “I’m not hungry yet; maybe I’ll eat it later.”
Baekhyun nods and walks away but Chanyeol reaches out to catch Baekhyun’s wrist. “Baekhyun, he’s going to Paris, he’s not here anymore. I didn’t get to say anything at all, did I fail? What should I do?”
“What should you do?” Baekhyun asks back, sitting on the couch next to Chanyeol’s legs. “Just follow what your heart tells you to do,” he says. “What does it say?”
“It’s not saying anything,” Chanyeol replies.
“Then you’re not listening properly,” Baekhyun offers with a smile. Chanyeol wants to question further, but Baekhyun pats his head with a confirmative nod and leaves Chanyeol confused on the couch.
Later, he finds himself on a plane, first-class, on his way to Paris. When he lands, he receives a KakaoTalk message from Baekhyun.
You’re listening, Baekhyun sends. But our vacation in Shanghai ends next week and we have to head back to Los Angeles.
Just three days, Chanyeol replies. I’ll be back.
The wifi connection dies off when Chanyeol gets into the taxi, before Baekhyun can reply, but Chanyeol knows, anyway. It’s probably a good luck message or something like that. Baekhyun is too predictable sometimes.
It’s until the driver stares at him quizzically that Chanyeol realizes that he doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know where Kyungsoo is, and he doesn’t know where he can stay in Paris for a few days. He shrugs. “The biggest hotel here, please.”
The hotel is indeed large, and the floors are polished so well they sparkle even after groups of people walk across them. Chanyeol hands his credit card over (it’s Baekhyun’s, in case of emergency, Baekhyun had said) as he makes the payment, silently thanking all gods that the company’s paying for this.
He heads to the lift lobby, and when the doors open Chanyeol is faced with Do Kyungsoo, a cap over his head and dressed in a hoodie a size too big for him. Kyungsoo’s eyes widen and he pulls his cap down before trying to sidestep Chanyeol to get away, but Chanyeol grabs his shoulder and turns him around.
“I need to talk to you,” Chanyeol says, desperation laced in his voice.
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about, and I’m currently busy,” Kyungsoo mutters.
“After you’re done with this show, please come back to Korea. I need to show you something. Come to our school, I’ll be waiting,” Chanyeol pleads.
Kyungsoo keeps his gaze on the floor but he says nothing as he walks away.
-
Chanyeol ends up cancelling the booking of his room and although the receptionist looks borderline pissed off, she promises a refund with a smile, so Chanyeol isn’t going to pinpoint her professionalism. He heads back to the airport instead, and when he gets internet connection, his phone vibrates. It’s a Kakao message from Baekhyun earlier, before he left the airport.
Good luck, the message reads.
Chanyeol clears his throat, and although the airport is bustling with people, he speaks clearly into his phone. “Baekhyun, I’m going to Korea. I’ll call you when I get there. Thank you for the luck,” he says, sending it as an audio note to Baekhyun.
-
When the cab drops him outside the building of his apartment, he tugs his luggage bags to the porter at the gate and tucks his hands into his pockets. He hasn’t been home in a while, always having events all over the world, but it feels good to be back here. It’s instinct as he turns right and sees the buildings of his school like the good old days. The cab drives away after Kyungsoo rejects the offer of another ride and he walks to the school slowly.
Kyungsoo had hesitated about the request Chanyeol had made in Paris, but he’d looked so sincere back then that Kyungsoo’s tickled with curiosity.
It’s been seven years, but the school looks exactly like how Kyungsoo had left it back then. The gates of the school remind him of graduation - graduation day had been too sweet but the farewells too bitter, he muses and chuckles, as he fiddles with the hem of his oversized blazer. It’s sweltering hot and Kyungsoo curses as he makes a mental note to go home and tell Yixing off for getting his size wrong again (Yixing’d probably say something witty like Lane Crawford doesn’t have Kyungsoo’s size, but).
The sun is beating down relentlessly, and the school field is as bustling as Kyungsoo remembers it to be. He reclines against the thick trunk of the huge oak tree in the open space between the cafeteria and the field and watches the scene in front of him with lazy eyes. Soccer is occupying half the field and frisbee on the other, with girls squealing about the flying balls and avoiding them as if they were bombs. He chuckles softly, shrugs out of his blazer and places it beside him as he fidgets to make himself more comfortable.
The oak tree feels so familiar against his back he finds it hard to believe, but he just sighs and closes his eyes to indulge in the moment.
“You don’t look like a teacher, mister,” someone says, and Kyungsoo has to open his eyes to see who’s blocking the sunlight with a voice this familiar.
Park Chanyeol. “You too,” Kyungsoo mumbles.
“I’m only here because I have something to do,” Chanyeol says with a huge grin on his face, and leans down to grab Kyungsoo’s blazer before stretching a hand out at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo takes his hand and yanks on it hard (in hopes of toppling Chanyeol over, that giant) but Chanyeol only blinks with a suppressed grin. “Let me show you what I promised,” Chanyeol continues, leading Kyungsoo away.
“Yixing’s going to kill me if you get any creases on that blazer,” Kyungsoo grumbles, although his hands feel clammy in Chanyeol’s (does Chanyeol mind sweaty palms? It’s been years, but he still doesn’t know); “he doesn’t like ironing stuff.”
“Well then,” Chanyeol says, tossing the blazer to Kyungsoo (who catches it with fumbling hands, unfortunately), “you wear it.”
Kyungsoo definitely does not pout because Chanyeol let go of his hands. He’s definitely pouting because he has to wear the blazer in this heat. Definitely.
He puts his blazer on with a bitter pout as Chanyeol stops him at the other side of the oak tree. It’s surprising how it’s grown, although it doesn’t look much, but Kyungsoo remembers climbing the tree and tying little ribbons with written secrets on the branches at the canopy of the tree, the height still manageable, but now the top of the tree is already obscured by the intense sunlight and Kyungsoo thinks he probably won’t make it to the top. Well, there go his secrets.
“Do you remember what we used to do here?” Chanyeol asks, gaze fixed on the top of the tree. Kyungsoo tries not to look because Chanyeol probably can get up there and reach his ribbons of secrets. Kyungsoo doesn’t want that.
“I don’t know, drink beer while you whine about losing a bet against Yunho-hyung?” Kyungsoo replies as casually as he can, ignoring the memories resurfacing in his head.
“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol snaps. “That was like, ten million years ago. No. I meant the practices we had here. Rabbit boxes… levitating… you can’t remember?”
Kyungsoo remembers, and he remembers so much it’s filling up his heart and lungs and it hurts to breathe. Chanyeol would sneak into Kyungsoo’s room half-past one at night, and he’d shake Kyungsoo awake before tugging him out of his room and to the oak tree, where everything you do is practically visible to anyone in the campus, but Chanyeol’d hush Kyungsoo with a quiet smile - ‘the most dangerous places are the safest ones.’ It’s hard to admit, but after months of the same routine, Kyungsoo found himself agreeing with that.
This is the place where Kyungsoo fell in love, he’d be a fucking idiot to forget, although Chanyeol seems like the one who forgot, but he looks at Chanyeol straight and bites back the resentment. “I don’t.”
The lights in Chanyeol’s eyes dim a little. Kyungsoo wonders if that was the right thing to do.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m sure you’ll remember, anyway.”
When Chanyeol snaps his fingers, a basket falls from one of the largest branches of the trees right into Chanyeol’s open arms. Kyungsoo tries not to peep, but he does, anyway, and the contents make him gape.
There’s a bouquet of fresh yellow tulips, in the exact same wrapping paper in that ugly shade of green that Kyungsoo had picked out (angrily) for Chanyeol during the Valentines’ Day of their graduating year, and a box of chocolates beside it, with the left corners crushed and creased the way Kyungsoo had seen it when he walked into the locker room door on that same day. On the box, in extremely familiar handwriting, reads ‘To: Kyungsoo’, and Kyungsoo is absolutely sure he hadn’t addressed a box of Valentines’ chocolate to himself, it was for -
Kyungsoo looks up and Chanyeol beams at him. “Now do you remember?”
“How did you-” Kyungsoo starts.
“For you,” Chanyeol just says, and Kyungsoo thinks he looks extremely angelic with a bouquet in one hand and a box of (probably) ruined chocolate in the other, with sunlight filtered by layers of his orange hair. “I told you before, didn’t I? Magic has to be planned beforehand.”
“I’ve always liked you, Kyungsoo, ever since we first met and you were Juliet and I died and you pretended to cry, to when you were sick and you were avoiding me, to when we graduated and you didn’t come to send me off, to when I went to America in hopes of making you proud, to when we met again, until now,” Chanyeol continues, “welcome back to my life.”
-
Note: Dearest recipient-san, I hope you liked this!