[exo] the painter of bones - ii

[printedapples]

Title: The Painter Of Bones
Rating: Pg-13
Wordcount: ~22k
Pairing: BaekYeol
Summary: He’s used to working with old, dying or dead people. Most certainly not someone as young and fragile, alive, or beautiful as Byun Baekhyun.



It’s snowing.

It had started snowing in the dead of the night before, and it hasn’t stopped since, blanketing the streets and rooftops with a thick coat of powdery white. Tiny snowflakes are falling in flurries around him as he walks, his shoes leaving a trail of footprints as they sink one after another into the soft snow on the ground. The hems of his pants are soaked through by the melted ice, and his hair is slightly damp from the snow but he’s in high spirits, having looked forward to this day for the entire week, the only thing adding some cheer into his otherwise dreary routine of painting overnight in the morgue. He hasn’t seen baekhyun since the week before, having had to work overtime at the morgue so that the police could clear their cases before the holidays, and Chanyeol realised belatedly how much he had enjoyed his quiet afternoons with the mysterious boy.

He has Baekhyun’s present tucked safely under his arm, wrapped neatly in navy blue paper, complete with a silver ribbon, and he walks with an unusual spring in his step; a grin that Kris had teased him for on his face. He can hear the distant sound of cheery laughter echo across the nearly empty streets, Colourful lights decorate the trees and lamps along the sidewalk, and Chanyeol grins at them, appreciating the happy glow and atmosphere.

When he reaches Baekhyun’s gate he finds that its been left unlocked - probably so the old housekeeper wouldn’t have to hobble out in the cold. He gives the doorbell a couple of pushes before stepping through the iron grilles, climbing up the path towards the door. He barely has his foot on the porch before the door opens and he’s yanked rather unceremoniously inside by the old man, who quickly shuts the door after him. The large hallway is cold and chilly, the fireplace unlit, the room remaining exactly as it was since the first time he had come inside. He’s standing outside Baekhyun’s white door now, hands outstretched as the housekeeper does his customary search, eyeing the blue package suspiciously.

“It’s just a book,” He smiles, tapping it.

The housekeeper gives him a wary look but gestures for him to go in, hobbling away and muttering under his breath about troublesome guests and lousy weather.

Chanyeol straightens his tie and dusts off his jacket and gives the door a couple of knocks before he turns the knob and walks through. Baekhyun’s at the windowsill as usual, but this time he’s without his book, instead staring longingly at the pretty white snow that's covered the field and hills in even sheets, flakes falling gently from the sky. He has his fingers pressed into the glass, and Chanyeol can see a frown on his face as he leans his forehead against the cool glass.

“Do you want to go outside?” He asks as he sits down next to Baekhyun, resting his hand on the other’s elbow. He’s here as a friend, today, and he figures he can afford to be a little more friendly.

“I… can’t. I can’t go outside.” He whispers quietly, still staring through the glass fingers clenching as he tears his gaze away to smile sadly at Chanyeol. The painter holds his arm silently as the shorter one turns over and scoots closer to him, expression evening out into his usual curious one, and Chanyeol feels a slight anger rising, a slight pain in his heart as the other hides away his sadness. He doesn’t have much time to really figure out why he’s so bothered by the smile plastered on Baekhyun’s face; his train of thought interrupted by the feeling of Baekhyun’s soft fingers grazing his throat.

“What’s this?” He asks curiously, tugging at Chanyeol’s simple black tie.

“It’s a tie. Do you want to try it on?” Chanyeol lets his fingers rest over Baekhyun’s while he loosens the tie, taking it off and hanging it around Baekhyun’s neck. The shorter one looks on curiously as Chanyeol buttons up his collar and tightens the tie gently. Baekhyun pulls at it and coughs, making a face.

“Its stuffy,” He whines as Chanyeol loosens it and unknots it. “I don’t like it. Don’t wear it.”

“I don’t like them either,” Chanyeol chuckles and folds it neatly before tucking it into his pocket. “But I thought I should dress up today, special occasion and all.”

“Anyway, Merry Christmas!” He grins, handing the parcel to Baekhyun, who’s staring at him in confusion. “It’s your present.”

“Present?”

“A gift. For you,” Chanyeol smiles. “You can open it now if you want.”

“Can I really? I’ve never gotten a present before.” Baekhyun’s eyes are wide, sparkling as he looks over the wrapped parcel, fingers playing with the ribbon, but he’s still confused. “Why are you giving me one?”

Chanyeol’s rather taken aback, but he tries to explain calmly to the puzzled Baekhyun.

“People give presents to their family and friends on special occasions like Birthdays and Christmas, or whenever they feel like it. You’re my friend, so I’m giving you one because I want to.”

He doesn’t quite know how to react when Baekhyun’s expression changes to one of worry and anxiety.

“I’m horrible,” Baekhyun squeaks, panicking. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“You’re going to be mad at me.” He’s hiding behind the thick fabric of the crimson curtain now, huddled into a ball. “And you won’t want to be my friend anymore, and you’ll leave me alone as well…”

“No I won’t! And inviting me for dinner is already more than enough of a gift.” Chanyeol pats his back through the velvet, trying to coax the tearing boy out. “It’s nice to not have to spend Christmas alone again.”

He continues to pat the other’s back, managing to calm him down enough to gently pull the curtains aside, revealing Baekhyun’s head and messy hair, the other resting  his chin on his knees when Chanyeol gives him a tentative pat on the head as well.

“Oh!” His eyes light up as he jumps up, tossing the curtain aside, and Chanyeol lets out a relieved sigh as he watches Baekhyun run over to the shelves, climbing up his step ladder and pulling out a familiar leather bound book. He stops by the table, hands reaching for one of the quills, dipping the tip into a bottle of ink before he rests the book on the tabletop, flipping over the cover and writing a few lines on the paper lining the insides. When he’s done he leaves the book where it is and starts pacing back and forth, searching shelves and cupboards, unable to find what he’s looking for. Giving up eventually, Baekhyun settles with hiding the book behind his back as he pads over to where Chanyeol has been observing him the entire time. He smiles warmly and pretends to be surprised when Baekhyun takes one of his palms and places the book in his hands happily with a grin.

“I couldn’t find anything to wrap it with but now you can’t be angry with me!”

Chanyeol laughs, once again amused by the other’s endearingly simple logic, nudging Baekhyun with the still sealed blue parcel. “You still haven’t opened yours.”

He flips open the cover of the book as Baekhyun sits back down next to him, nimble fingers carefully peeling at the edges of the wrapping paper, pulling at the ends of the silver ribbon. Baekhyun’s handwriting is neat and cursive, and Chanyeol can’t help but feel happy when he reads the words strewn across the middle of the page.

Dear Chanyeol,

My favourite book for my favourite person!

Merry Christmas, From Baekhyun.

He flips through a couple of sections and a few pages in particular catch his eye. He’s seen the diagrams before, and sure enough, he finds the pages that Baekhyun had showed him the week before - it's the book on flowers and botany.

“I can’t accept this!” He gasps, shaking his head, shutting the cover quickly and placing the book back on Baekhyun’s lap.

“You don’t like it?” Baekhyun pouts sadly at him, playing with the corners of the cover.

“I do like it but you love this book, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol explains, not wanting his friend to misunderstand. “I can’t take it away from you.”

“But I want you to have it,” Baekhyun passes the book back to him, grinning brightly. “I’ve practically memorized it anyway.”

“But-”

“Page 47, fifth line : The name Chrysanthemum is derived from the Greek words Chrysos and Anthemon.” Baekhyun cuts him off, pretending not to hear him, turning his attention back to the half opened parcel. He slides the book out of the wrapping and opens it, turning to look at Chanyeol curiously. The book is hand bound, done in a way that creates pouches instead of normal flat pages, and on each of the pouches there are drawn diagrams of flowering plants and seeds, each accompanied by its name and species.

“There are seeds inside each of the pouches,” He explains, flipping open the flap of the first pouch, taking out a seed and placing it in Baekhyun’s palm. “You said you’ve never seen real flowers before, so I thought you might like to grow some of your own.”

“We’ll have to figure out how to get you soil and pots though.” He smiles apologetically, watching as Baekhyun holds the seed up to the light, held carefully between his thumb and index finger, gently rolling it, feeling the texture of the sunflower seed. He hasn’t said a word since he’s opened the gift and Chanyeol’s a little worried that he might not like it, but his train of thought is interrupted once more by a series of loud knocks on the door. Baekhyun puts the seed carefully back into its pouch before grabbing Chanyeol’s hand and leading him across the room towards the door, to the trolley full of food that’s been pushed into the room.

“Food’s here!” He pushes the trolley to one of the larger tables, motioning for Chanyeol to sit down on one of the chairs as he starts setting down plates and cutlery on the table. It’s bizarre, and its an odd feeling Chanyeol can’t shake but there’s something really strange about the situation he’s in right now. There are no knives and no forks, just spoons, and the food has been cut up into bite sized pieces - the meat has been diced into tiny little cubes, sauce on the side of the plate, which doesn’t look quite like the normal type of porcelain tableware that he’s used to seeing at home and outside. Baekhyun hands him his spoon with a cheerful smile and Chanyeol can’t help but stare when Baekhyun tucks in like it's the most natural thing in the world, like a daily habit, deftly scooping up food with the round utensil. Baekhyun catches him struggling with the spoon and gives him a quizzical look, raising his eyebrows, trying not to giggle.

“You don’t know how to use a spoon?” He asks as Chanyeol chases another piece of meat to the side of the plate, trying to scoop it up and failing. He doesn’t quite know how to respond, trying to word his reply as carefully as possible.

“We usually have other cutlery like forks and knives together with spoons when we eat.”

“Forks? Knives?” Baekhyun’s chewing now, trying to recall if he’s seen those before.

“Forks are kind of pointy and have prongs which let you poke your food instead of scooping it up like a spoon, and knives are blades with handles which you use to cut your food with, so you can get smaller pieces or slices.” Chanyeol reaches over to the other table for the quill Baekhyun had used earlier, drawing out simple pictures of a fork and a knife on his palm, watching as the ink bled into patterns on his skin. He holds up his palm for Baekhyun to see when he’s done, and the other just blinks at him blankly, surprised.

“Oh. I haven’t seen those before,” He grips his spoon tightly, looking down at his lap. “Is that weird?”

“A little, but not in a bad way,” Chanyeol tries to reassure him, patting his head as Baekhyun looks up at him with wide eyes, biting his lip. “I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while but… is there a reason why you aren’t let near sharp objects?”

“The first time I came your housekeeper took away my impasto knife. I was wondering if there was a reason behind it,” Baekhyun’s quiet again, looking away. He looks afraid, and Chanyeol immediately regrets bringing up the topic. They sit in awkward silence for a while before Baekhyun turns his gaze back on Chanyeol.

“I’ll tell you but you…” He’s apprehensive, hesitating. “You have to promise not to freak out or run away or leave me okay?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol promises, letting Baekhyun hold on tightly to his fingers.

“I have this condition called Hemophilia,” Baekhyun takes in a deep breath, looking anxiously at Chanyeol, afraid that the other would get up and bolt at any moment. “It means I can't form blood clots like normal people can.”

He looks a little less worried since Chanyeol hasn’t moved, still letting Baekhyun squeeze his hand tightly. “Apparently when I was two I had a nosebleed that didn’t stop for close to a week. My family found out then, and I haven’t been let out of this room ever since.”

“Everyone always freaks out madly whenever I bleed. They used to fuss over me and bring in all sorts of fancy doctors but none of them knew how to fix me,” He’s let go of Chanyeol’s hand now, playing with his fingers instead, tracing over the burn scar. “So they took away everything that could possibly hurt me and locked me in for my own good.”

“I wasn’t allowed any visitors and they’d cut my hair and clean and all that while I was asleep. And they switched my furniture when I was nine because I tripped and got a cut from the corner of the table.” Chanyeol turns to look at the curved edges on all the furniture, letting his eye roam across the room, noticing the sanded down edges of the bookshelves and chairs and tables. Even the chair and table legs were round, without any of the ornate carvings that were typical of a household like Baekhyun’s. It was all starting to make sense now - the excessive amount of red, the torn edges of the pages in Baekhyun’s books, the lack of any mirrors or glass besides the window, the way Baekhyun was always so fascinated at the many things Chanyeol had taken for granted as normal, the body searches, and the way his room was placed in a corner of the house, and a wave of sadness and pain hits him when he really begins to full grasp how his friend has lived all this while. He believes him, and he’s glad he had saved his reservations in all their previous interactions, only realizing now how much a careless comment or gesture could have hurt Baekhyun immensely.

He meets Baekhyun’s eyes when the other continues, visibly less shaken than before. He’s smiling now and Chanyeol feels rather startled, frowning at his friend’s false display of happiness.

“I live alone now, which is why I could call you over. My father remarried when my mother left, and then he left too, about a month ago. Now it’s just the housekeeper and me and whatever they couldn’t take with them.”

“There’s no one keeping me here now, and my door isn’t locked anymore, and I want to leave,” He stops, trailing off again, looking past Chanyeol to the window and the snow falling beyond. “But I can’t. I’ve been in here for so long I just don’t know how to…leave.”

Chanyeol’s still stunned into silence, not knowing how to react. But he’s pretty sure pity isn’t what Baekhyun wants, so he keeps his clumsy words to himself and before he knows what he’s doing he’s out of his seat, hand still clasping Baekhyun’s tightly, moving over and bending down to give Baekhyun a hug, letting go only so he can rub soothing circles on his back. Chanyeol feels a slight dampness through his shirt as Baekhyun shakes in his arms, his own small hands reaching out timidly, pressing lightly into Chanyeol’s sides, whispering into his chest.

“They never even said goodbye,”

His fingers are curled tightly into Chanyeol’s shirt, gripping the fabric, and Chanyeol holds him silently as he cries it out, warm hands never letting go until Baekhyun’s done bawling, looking at up at him with an embarrassed smile, laughing as he sniffles uncontrollably. He lets Baekhyun cling to him as he walks him over to the bathroom so can brush his teeth,

“That was a hug,” He grins at Baekhyun as he tucks him in, patting the blanket, smoothening Baekhyun’s messy bangs. “You can have as many as you want.”

“Hugs are nice,” Baekhyun smiles tiredly back, nodding, catching Chanyeol’s sleeve when he turns to put on his coat. “Thank you for today. And for the lovely present. I really do like it.”

The clock on the wall strikes twelve then, and the sound reverberates around the quiet room as Chanyeol gives Baekhyun’s hair another ruffle.

“You really are my favourite person, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun giggles as Chanyeol gets his other arm through his coat sleeve, quickly covering the wet spot on his shirt where Baekhyun’s tears had soaked through. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol bends down once more to give Baekhyun one last hug before he goes, and this time he can feel Baekhyun’s hands slip more comfortably around his sides, no longer afraid, and he

Its only later, when he’s out the door and on the snowy path back home that he realises the splotches on the blanket that he thought were pretty patterns were actually dried patches of Baekhyun’s blood, staining the fabric a painful, piercing dark cherry red.

He slips his hand into his pocket, fingers enclosing around the familiar round grooves of the linseed oil bottle, pausing in his tracks, turning to look back at the lonely white house, blending so easily into the snowy landscape.

When he reaches the intersection he turns left instead of right.

“CHAAAAAANYEOL OH CHAAAAAAAANYEOOOOOOOOOOL~!”  He can hear Kris hollering from downstairs, and he rolls over in his bed, pulling up the blanket, pulling over the spare pillow over his head, going absolutely still. Kris is clambering up the stairs now, but not without a couple of oomphs and ows as he trips and falls on the uneven step that Chanyeol slips on every morning on the way down.

“HELLOOOOOOO THEREEEE~” Kris is leaning against the door frame, smirking obnoxiously. Chanyeol freezes in his pajamas, not breathing and not moving, trying as much as possible to ignore Kris while blending in with his sheets. He had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning after the detour he had made on the way back from Baekhyun’s and he’s still confused and exhausted and all he wants is to get some uninterrupted sleep with preferably as little Kris as possible while he sorts his mind out in the next twenty four hours, but no, now he has to deal with (by the smell of it) an extremely drunk blond at four in the morning.  He tries chanting to himself mentally, willing himself to become one with the sheets. He’s not there. He’s not there. He’s not there. He’s not th-

“OW.” He groans as a very languid Kris flops down on top of him spread eagle, long limbs poking out over the edge, trapping Chanyeol under the blanket. Chanyeol tries to roll him off, squirming and wiggling but Kris just rolls onto his back, giggling drunkenly while he stares at the ceiling, his elbow almost landing on Chanyeol’s nose.

“Get. Off. Kris.”

“I MET A HOT DOCTOR CHANYEOL,” The other ignores him, laughing hysterically, wiggling his toes. “HE’S THE GREEN FAIRY HE’S SO PRETTTY LIKE A FAAAAAAIRY~”

“Good for you then. What’s his name?” Chanyeol humours him, sighing as he gives up his futile attempts at trying to move the lump called Kris.

“HUANG ZI TAO BUT HE SAID TO CALL HIM TAO.” Kris sits up and Chanyeol takes the chance to quickly wiggle away, glad to be able to feel his legs again. “TAO YOU KNOW LIKE THE PEACH TAO BUT ITS ACTUALLY NOT THE PEACH HE’S A PEACHY DOCTORRR,”

“I don’t know Chinese, Kris,” Chanyeol sighs heavily, hugging his pillow to his chest, tugging the blanket away from his friend, using his foot to keep Kris’s grabby hands away from him.

“I LIKE PEACHES HAHAHA PEEEACHES NICE AND ROUND AND TASTY AND LETS GO BUY SOME TOMORROW OKAY I FEEL LIKE EATING PEACHES,”

“They’re not in season right now Kris it's the middle of winter.”

“ACTUALLY HE LOOKS LIKE A PANDA PANDAS LIKE BAMBOO RIGHT WHERE CAN I GET SOME BAMBOO BAMBOO’S GREEN JUST LIKE THE GREEN FAIIIRRRY~”

“We could try dropping by the flower shop to ask Minseok,”

“BAOZI OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH CHANYEOL I SAW BAOZI AT ONE OF THE PARTIES HE HAD AN ORANGE AS HIS DATE,”

“An orange?”

“CHEN CHEN. CHEN CHEN CHEN CHEN CHEN! OR JONG- SOMETHING I THINK, I DON'T KNOW MY BRAIN HURTS,”

Chanyeol winces as he covers his poor ears, grimacing when Kris gets even louder.

“CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANYEOOOOOOOOOL MY HEAD HURTS MAKE IT GO AWAYYYY,”

Kris is whining. Loudly. Chanyeol holds his pounding head in his hands and tries to block out the rest of what he’s saying. His head hurts and all he just wants to kick Kris off and roll him down the stairs and he swears that right now he’d do just about anything to make him shut up.

Kris finally goes limp, switching between languages as he muttered incoherent phrases in between snores, and Chanyeol heaves a sigh of relief, glad that his ordeal is finally over. Hungover Kris was cranky and scary but quiet and easy to handle. Drunk Kris on the other hand was as loud as loud could be in Chanyeol’s dictionary, obnoxious and crazy and just so painfully noisy his ears would ring for hours after, Kris’s whiny voice looping and replaying in his head.

He hadn’t counted on Kris being sober enough to actually make it all the way up the stairs and into his room. Chanyeol had been hoping to wake up to find a conveniently passed out Kris on the floor of the doorway or the couch, and he slides off his bed, letting go of his pillow, grabbing Kris’s arms and legs, arranging them in a way that lets him pick up his friend to carry him downstairs into his own room. He manages to get all the way to Kris’s room without tripping, dumping the long body on the bed in the corner, pulling the covers over his friend. When he’s turning to leave something thin and blue and long on his nightstand catches his eye and he walks back to grab it, uncapping the bottle of ink with an evil grin on his face.

Pandas.

Chanyeol’s smiling to himself when he’s huddled comfortably in his own bed upstairs, giggling at the childish revenge he had managed to get on Kris - the ridiculous image of the blond with ink brushed artistically all over his face instantly lifting his mood, and he falls back into a dreamless slumber, curling up contentedly with his pillow.

25th December, Tuesday

Abandoned cottage destroyed by fire.

No casualties reported, cause unknown

He spends the next few days at home with Kris, helping him with stock taking while he nurses his killer hangover. They sort out tubes of paint, bottles of turpentine and  oils in the spare room next to Kris’s, putting aside used and empty ones and stacking unopened bottles in neat rows on the shelves, taking note of colours that they’re running out of and writing them down on scraps of paper. When they’re done they move on to the canvases, counting the new ones and lining the half used ones along the walls, deciding which they could salvage and which ones they should throw.

Six unfinished portraits of Baekhyun line Chanyeol’s side of the wall and Kris shoots him an incredulous look, complete with raised eyebrows and scathing judgmental smile.

“Are you doing this on purpose,” Kris elbows him, questioning. “Because i’m quite sure I remember this Baekhyun person commissioning you to do a portrait. Not… an extended series documenting his various facial expressions.”

Chanyeol just looks away silently, turning to stare at Kris’s side of the wall instead. It’s empty as usual, with only a large canvas wrapped in black cloth resting against the whitewash. Kris hardly ever scrapped paintings, usually working on whatever he had all the way til the end. The wrapped canvas was an exception, and Chanyeol thinks he knows whats hidden behind the cloth, but he keeps clear of the topic, keeping his thoughts to himself. Kris is nudging him insistently and he turns back around, annoyed.

“He’s kind of cute don’t you think?” Kris hmms, stroking his chin.

“Who?”

“This Baekhyun kid.”

The younger of the two bites his lip and fiddles with the hem of his shirt, mulling over Kris’s statement quietly while the other moves to take a closer look at the portraits. Baekhyun’s expression first one is stoic and cold, with lots of blue and gray tones, and Kris grimaces at it before moving on to the next portrait.

“I never thought you were capable of actually painting badly.” He smirks, skipping the second and third, which are as disastrous in their attempts as the first, stopping at the fourth.

“He’s just… hard to paint.”

“Everything is equally hard to paint.” Kris tuts at him, wagging his finger. “You need to figure out what else is bugging you.”

“Like this one,” He points to the sixth portrait in the corner. Baekhyun’s looking out with a small smile, face tilted to the side. “Its technically sound but you scrapped it. Why?”

“It doesn’t feel right.” Is the only reason Chanyeol finds to justify himself.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know Kris, it just isn’t right yet,” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve been stuck with this commission for so long but I can’t - I just can’t stop like this.”

“We should keep them all then.” Kris pats him on the back, chuckling. “It feels like things would turn out rather interestingly.”

“Besides, we should document your many failures. Hang them on the wall and stuff.”

Chanyeol scowls and kicks him in the shin.

“… and I’ve said this to you many times before but you should really try selling these,” He gestures to a stack of canvases in the corner of chanyeol’s space. “They’re your best work. You’d make a fortune if you would just sell these.”

Kris continues, not noticing how Chanyeol has fallen oddly quiet.

“Wouldn’t it be fantastic if you could have your fits and-”

“-Kris.” The younger one pleads. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said so much.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, turning to leave with a quick step out the door.

The changes come in small, minor decisions. Nothing drastic or major - just little adjustments that mostly go unnoticed. He switched his wristwatch with the sharp edges with his round, bronze pocket watch with the thin chain. His cufflinks are no longer square, but circular, and he’s been using the belt with the smaller, rounder buckle. He doesn’t realize this until Kris points it out to him one day, whining about how Chanyeol had stopped using the watch he had bought him for his birthday.

Baekhyun had gotten much more clingy and touchy after their encounter during Christmas, no longer afraid of reaching out to Chanyeol and Chanyeol hasn’t been touched and examined and stared at so much in his life before but he doesn’t mind one bit even though it was rather startling at first. Baekhyun’s condition had come as a surprise, but it didn’t change anything, and Chanyeol was determined to treat him exactly the same way he did before, with a few accommodations here and there just to make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt his friend.

He’s on a mission today.

He had kept a couple of the empty glass bottles of linseed and dug out some half eaten jars of jam and honey, force feeding them to Kris over the next two weeks, washing and drying them, leaving them on his desk until the next time he gets to see Baekhyun again. In the morning he stole some soil from the pots of Kris’s window plants, half filling the glass jars and hiding them away safely in his work bag, ready to be smuggled into Baekhyun’s room.

…He doesn’t have a plan though.

Before he knows it he’s being led through the long hallway again and he tries not to flail when the housekeeper makes him raise his arms as usual.

“I-is this really necessary,” He stutters, trying to squirm out of reach. “You check me every single time and I’ve never brought anything sharp in.”

“You know I won’t hurt Baekhyun,” Chanyeol nudges his workbag out of reach with his foot, putting on his best coy smile. “So why don't we just skip it this time?”

The housekeeper gives him the evil eye and grunts, grabbing his arm firmly so Chanyeol can't run away. “You’re hiding something.”

“Yes I - NO I’m not hiding anything,” Chanyeol panics, trying to hold his bag out of the housekeeper’s reach, trying not to wince at the vice grip on his left arm, twisting and turning and knocking urgently on Baekhyun’s door.

“THE TRUTH IS!!!” He yells, using the distraction to wiggle out of the housekeeper’s grip. “I’M AFRAID OF TICKLES!!!”

An awkward moment of silence ensues as they stare each other down, chanyeol clutching his bag to his chest. He’s about to dodge another one of the housekeeper’s grabs when the doorknob clicks and the door swings open with a slow, loud creak.

“Ch-ch-chanyeol? Is that you?”

Baekhyun is peeking out from behind the doorframe, fingers clinging to the wall. Chanyeol watches as his eyes widen, taking in the scene in front of him, and more importantly, the long stretch of corridor beyond. Both Chanyeol and the housekeeper are stunned and frozen and its baekhyun who saves the situation, reaching out a timid hand and yanking chanyeol through the door by his wrist. He shuts the door quickly once they’re both back inside and leans against it for support, sliding down into a squatting position, raising his eyes to meet Chanyeol’s.

“I could hear you through the door and I thought something was wrong,” He takes the hand offered by Chanyeol and stands up. “I heard you yelling and I thought something bad happened and you were hurt so I tried to open the door.”

“I feel a bit cheated now that you’re alright.” Baekhyun laughs, clinging on to Chanyeol’s arm.

“What were you fighting over?” Chanyeol still hasn’t let go of their hands, leading him to their usual spot by the window.

“We weren’t fighting,” Chanyeol opens his bag and pulls out the jars of soil and the spare glass bottles, handing them to Baekhyun with a bright smile. “I was trying to sneak these in for you.”

“You sound like a terrible liar.” Baekhyun chuckles.

“Proper pots are a little hard to hide, so I brought you jars and small bottles to use as makeshift ones instead. They’re made of glass but as long as you’re careful and don’t drop them and touch the shards they’re perfectly safe and won’t hurt you.”

Baekhyun puts the jars down on the windowsill carefully one by one, pulling Chanyeol in for a nice long thank you hug that leaves the painter feeling warm and happy inside. When Baekhyun lets go they look through the book of seeds together and pick out two evergreen types to try planting. He’s never seen Baekhyun as happy as he is now, sticking his fingers into the jar, pouring out clumps of soil onto his palms, squeezing and letting go, feeling the damp and grainy texture, tapping on the glass bottles with his fingernails, listening to the sound that the tin cap of the jar makes when he drops it. Chanyeol hovers behind him while Baekhyun transfers some soil into one of the glass bottles carefully, watching over him without being intruding. Once Baekhyun is done putting the seeds in he runs over to the bathroom in the corner to wash his hands, drying them im1patiently on his shirt, leaving wet see through handprints on the fabric. He clambers back onto the velvet lined chair with the book that was supposed to be Chanyeol’s present from Christmas. The other had insisted that he leave the book there and he’s glad he did, from the looks of how Baekhyun was always flipping through it, he hadn't lied about it being his favourite.

He’s in a good mood today, having successfully snuck in the contraband soil and glass for Baekhyun, and he smiles to himself as he gets to work on the seventh canvas, drawing out Baekhyun’s features with charcoal before starting to fill in base colours. He’s decided to try something different this time, recalling Baekhyun’s happy expression when he was playing with the soil, replicating that with lines and marks. Baekhyun is especially fidgety today from all the excitement and he’s having a harder than usual time sitting still, fiddling with the book of seeds and glancing occasionally in the direction of the jars by the window with hopeful eyes. His facial expressions today are particularly interesting to Chanyeol - he hasn’t seen them before and he’s distracted from painting, switching his brush and canvas for charcoal and paper, quickly drawing out a couple of sketches of Baekhyun. He’s so immersed in drawing that he doesn’t notice when Baekhyun hops off the chair and crosses the distance between them, sitting on the floor in front of Chanyeol, looking up at him curiously.

“You’re smiling a lot today,” Baekhyun grins, crossing his legs. “You have really nice white teeth.”

“Thanks?” Chanyeol laughs as he puts aside the drawings, cleaning his hands and moving off his chair to sit on the floor with Baekhyun.

“Wow your teeth are big!” Baekhyun’s face is filling his vision now as he leans closer and peers at Chanyeol’s pearly whites, and Chanyeol tenses up, freezing, not daring to move.

“How many do you have?” Baekhyun stares back at him expectantly.

“I have thirty of them I think!”

“I don’t actually know how many I have,” He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Probably thirty? Twenty eight?”

“Do you want me to help you count?” Baekhyun scoots over, grinning at his friend. Chanyeol barely registers Baekhyun holding on to his jaw firmly before he sees Baekhyun sticking his finger into his open mouth, quickly tracing and counting molars and incisors. He holds his breath as Baekhyun checks again, neck going stiff from holding still, jaw aching from trying to hold his mouth open for so long, afraid he might accidentally bite Baekhyun.

“You have twenty nine! What are the sharp pointy ones called?”

“Canines,” Chanyeol blushes in embarrassment as Baekhyun wipes his hand on his handkerchief, slipping it back into his pocket, moving to sit cross-legged in front of Chanyeol.

“What about the rectangular ones at the front?”

“Those are incisors.” Chanyeol replies while Baekhyun’s feeling his own teeth with his thumb, pressing against the edges.

“And the fat ones at the back?”

“Molars.”

Baekhyun nods his head with an ooooh, grinning widely at Chanyeol so his teeth are bared. “Do you want to look at mine? I think my teeth are smaller though. They feel tiny compared to yours.”

Chanyeol laughs and shakes his head, baring his teeth as well.

“Your hands are bigger than mine and your ears are bigger and your feet are bigger and you’re taller and now even your teeth are larger than mine.” The shorter one pouts at him, scrunching up his nose. “It’s not fair. Is everyone else outside as tall and big as you?”

“There’s Kris, and he’s about the same height as me but there are other people who are shorter than us and you,” Chanyeol bites his lip, thinking. “But there are probably people who are taller than I am.”

“Who is Kris?” Baekhyun tugs at his sleeve curiously, frowning with wide eyes. “Is he your friend too?”

“He’s the spawn of the devil.” The painter smirks, laughing evilly. “He’s tall and big and scary and looks like a fire-breathing Chinese dragon with blond hair. He’s my housemate and friend. I’ve known him for years. We kind of grew up together.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun stares down at his feet disappointedly, falling silent, drawing his knees to his chest, playing with his toes.

“Is something bothering you?” Chanyeol asks, reaching out to fiddle with Baekhyun’s fingers, holding each one in turn between his thumb and index, raising his eyebrows. Baekhyun averts his gaze and looks to the side, avoiding eye contact with the other. “Baekhyun? Hey, what’s the mat -”

Chanyeol never gets to finish his question, finding himself with a lapful of warm and a faceful of Baekhyun, lips pressed tentatively to his own in a chaste, innocent kiss. He can’t help but smile when the smaller one shifts so that he’s clinging to him like a Koala bear, all arms and legs and soft and warm, and Chanyeol can feel his giggles as Baekhyun speaks into his ear, hiding his flushed cheeks.

“The novels were right,” Baekhyun buries his face in Chanyeol’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly. “Kisses do feel nice.”

He’s figured out a way to help baekhyun learn more about the outside world without the risk of unintentionally causing him harm - he’s been bringing around sheets of paper with him, loosely bound with string, drawing out scenes and landscapes from his daily life. The first thing he illustrates is Kris collapsed on the table, with a close up of his face capturing his trademark scowl sketched next to it. He labels it “the demon taking a nap”, scrawling out the words in an empty spot on the sheet. The next one he does is of his room, drawn from several angles, and on the back he does one of the view from his window, drawing the curtains back to reveal the sunny road for the first time in a long while.  He sits on the bench on the corner by Kyungsoo’s bakery on Wednesday, drawing the exterior and the surrounding street, entering to chat with the baker and his young apprentice, Sehun, buying a blueberry muffin and shyly asking to draw their portraits, and all the different types of bread and pastries Kyungsoo had on sale. On Thursday he brings the sheets to the morgue, recording the cold room and its steel tables and tall windows with a pen. The tall windows there remind him of the windows in his recurring dream, and he grimaces in the cold - the morgue seems especially bleak and desolate whenever he knows he’s meeting Baekhyun the following day, images of Baekhyun’s smile and the memory of Baekhyun’s hug keeping him warm through the chilly storms that rage on through the night.

The brunt of winter has passed and it’s already near the end of February. Snowstorms have changed into thunderstorms, and it has been raining heavily all week, the weather forecast bleak for the next few days and weeks. Its drizzling as he makes his way up the path with his umbrella, rain getting heavier with every step he takes. He has the first week’s stack of drawings tucked away safely in his bag, neatly bound together with string, pages full of notes and annotations for Baekhyun. He quickens his pace when a bolt of lightning flashes through the sky, accompanied by the low and loud rumble of thunder in the distance. The long hallways and high ceiling feel grim and the usually sparkling chandelier sends shivers down his spine when the lightning flashes through the window and lights up the dark space, projecting long shadows along the floor walls. He can hear the rain beating down heavily, and his footsteps echoing drearily with each step he takes.

The door’s unlocked and he can hear the radio he had brought for baekhyun playing through the small gap in the door. He knocks once, twice, three times before he pushes the door open, but he’s only got it halfway open when he feels a strong weight crash into it, pushing it back shut. He’s forced to back away, confused.

“Baekhyun?” He calls out, surprised when he hears the lock of the door click from the inside. “Baekhyun are you alright?”

“Go away!” Baekhyun yells loudly through the noise of the radio when the thunder rumbles again. His voice is distant and far, and it sounds like he’s at the other end of the room.

Chanyeol knocks again urgently, worried. “Baekhyun? Come on Baekhyun, what’s wrong? Open up please?”

“Go away just go-” Baekhyun’s screaming now, but his voice seems to be muffled by something. “Go away just go away.”

The storm has evolved into a full blown lightning storm, thunder crashing violently along with stark and powerful bolts of lightning. Chanyeol leans against the wall and slides down helplessly, unable to understand Baekhyun’s sudden change in behaviour. He sits down by the door and waits silently as he listens to the radio blaring out through the falling rain, getting up to leave only when he fully realises that Baekhyun’s door isn’t going to open for him.

At least not for tonight.

part: iii