[exo] clover - ii
Title: Clover
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~12k
Pairing: BaekYeol
Summary: Baekhyun was, is, to Chanyeol, back then and even now, his everything.
♣
They were simple college students in an arts university, passing their days like any other undergrad - pulling all nighters and squabbling over the last cup of coffee, deciding to split it, one loaded with sugar and the other black, poured into halves into two parts of a matching set of mugs. After exams and finals they’d come home exhausted from pigging out on barbequed meat and strawberry parfaits, collapsing together on their shared bed while Baekhyun whined weakly about smelling like seasoned beef and their general inability to afford anything other than rice and kimchi for the rest of the month.
In the summer they’d both take on extra part time jobs, trying to get as much spare cash as possible, pooling their money together for food and rent. They’d laze around on the couch watching reruns on television in shorts and sleeveless tops, Baekhyun resting comfortably against Chanyeol, the other’s arm looped around his waist while his chin rests atop Baekhyun’s crown, munching on slices of watermelon while they shared a tub of cold water and ice, feet dipped in to battle the heat.
Sometimes Baekhyun’s fingers would curl tightly into the fabric of Chanyeol’s shirt as he pulls him closer or pushes him down towards the cushions, straddling the taller one as fingertips traced over sweaty skin and quivering, pliant limbs. And in the heat and daze of the warmth of the summer sun filtering through their window they’d get lost in touches and feeling and the burn of skin on skin - or they’d just lie there together while Chanyeol held Baekhyun close, tucked safely under his chin, scrunching up his nose when stray wisps of dark hair graze his nose, suppressing sneezes while he listened to Baekhyun’s little snores while he napped, drool pooling into a small puddle on Chanyeol’s shoulder.
Baekhyun would bring home flyers for summer festivals and stick them up on the door of their refrigerator, keeping track of the ones with fireworks displays and Chanyeol would notice the way he would skimp on food for weeks before so that they’d have enough to splurge a little on the snacks at the stalls, walking hand in hand as they ate candied apples and tried not to get sugar all over their faces.
“Stop eating your hair,” Baekhyun would laugh at Chanyeol, taking a pin from his pocket with his clean hand, tucking the other’s fringe behind his ears and slipping the pin on while Chanyeol held still. They always went to the same festivals and without fail Chanyeol would run off while the other was queuing for food, picking out a wind chime to add to the ones Baekhyun already had hanging around their apartment - and he’d come running back to Baekhyun with the gift in his hands, grinning happily when Baekhyun nods in approval of his new acquisition.
The summer months were their favourite months because they got to bum around together, school and assignments buried far away in the back of their minds. They lived simply, taking things day by day, and it was more than anything the both of them could ask for, running around in circles as they chased each other, forgetting about ambitions and obligations as they put their dreams on hold and just loved.
♣
“Park Chan Yeol?” The guard pops his head into the waiting room, looking around as he called out Chanyeol’s name, smiling politely when he spots the familiar mop of curly hair. He’s short but not really, about the same height as Baekhyun but with a much more solid build. His name is Minseok, Chanyeol reads off his nametag, and he’s the guard that’s on duty every Saturday and Tuesday from two to six pm. “You can go in now.”
Chanyeol likes to watch the stray hairs on the top of his head while Minseok leads him through the long corridor to the other end, to one of the rooms where visitors could meet with inmates. They’d stop in front of a grey numbered door and Minseok would punch in a code number in the keypad before the door unlocked with a click. He lets Chanyeol in before he follows behind and sidesteps discreetly into the corner.
Chanyeol glances at the clock on the wall. Five thirty. He’s got half an hour.
“Hey Baekkie!” He greets cheerfully at the silent boy on the other side of the glass panel. He’s looking down, just like always, never reacting to anything Chanyeol says. Chanyeol wonders how someone who used to be so overwhelmingly warm could now be so cold, so detached, so faraway. He hasn’t been able to hold him in close to a year - hasn’t seen that brilliant smile of his for far too long. He really misses Baekhyun’s voice.
Baekhyun looks a little off today, Chanyeol observes, noticing the way he’s more fidgety than usual, occasional hints of a frown creeping onto the blank expression he always had when Chanyeol visited. He takes a deep breath before sliding into the steel chair opposite Baekhyun, on the other side of the glass wall. Then he starts, blurting out desperate monologues as he tries so painfully hard to keep them from falling apart.
*
They had been in the middle of figuring out their futures when it had happened. They were both in their final year at school, and Chanyeol had been offered a teaching position that they’d like him to fill once he’s graduated. He’d double up as a woodwork technician while helping with freshmen classes, and he’d have a stable job and a pretty good income. Baekhyun had jumped him when he had told him about it, squealing excitedly about how happy he was for Chanyeol and that he should accept the offer immediately, kissing him on the nose and forehead and cheek and all over the way he likes to when he’s happy.
Baekhyun never really talked about what he wanted to do after they were done with school. I just want to graduate he’d say, changing the subject back to Chanyeol whenever the other had asked. You want to teach don’t you? He’d smile at Chanyeol, distracting him, evading the topic each time. He knew Chanyeol well enough to be able to recite back to the other every dream he’s been told.
That had been eight months ago, in April, in the last spring of their lives as students, and it had been a scary time full of uncertainty for them both as they prepared to graduate but they were together, Chanyeol had thought - Baekhyun and Chanyeol, always, they’d figure things out together, and that had been more than enough to help him pull through.
Until he woke up early on a Monday morning two weeks before they were due to graduate to Kyungsoo clawing at his face and no Baekhyun in his arms, left with nothing more than a note with an apology.
I’m sorry, I love you.
And then Baekhyun was gone.
*
♣
Baekhyun had a strange obsession with clovers - and with all other things, Chanyeol had learnt, he was good at finding them as well. In the spring they’d ride their bikes (Chanyeol’s his old one from home and Baekhyun’s a birthday gift from Chanyeol’s older sister), Chanyeol’s old beat up black one alongside Baekhyun’s shiny red and new, zooming past houses and streets while they raced each other to the fields just on the outskirts of town. Sometimes Baekhyun would hop off his bike and slip playfully onto Chanyeol’s, pressing his cheek to Chanyeol’s back as he made the other cycle him around, screaming and flailing when Chanyeol would make sharp curves and sudden stops just so Baekhyun’s arms would tighten around his waist, smirking to himself as he paddled and Baekhyun muttered weak curses at him.
The field was just behind the old train station and occasionally people would glance at them while Baekhyun tries to tackle Chanyeol to the ground, jumping and pushing and shoving, looking just like two best friends with too much spare time, eyes blind to the touches that they would sneak each other, the way their hands would intertwine, the way Baekhyun would wrap his legs around Chanyeol’s hips and his hands around his neck, making a mess of the taller one’s hair while the other supported him, smiling when Baekhyun presses his lips eagerly against his own.
It was a place full of wildflowers and grass that did not so wonderful things for Chanyeol’s allergies. He’s never managed to find a single four-leaf clover, settling with observing Baekhyun as he waddled around the field in his jeans and t-shirt, eyes peeled to the ground, carefully searching. Chanyeol would fiddle with the grass near his feet, playing with touch-me-nots and dandelions, watching the fluffy white seeds float away in the air, holding a tissue to his nose as he sneezed and sniffled. He’d give up on looking for clovers and pick wild flowers to sneakily slip into Baekhyun’s hair, and sometimes he’d tie the stems together and make him a little crown, placing it gently atop his head while Baekhyun scowls.
“I'm not a girl,” He’d complain, trying to shake the plants out of his hair, and Chanyeol would pinch his nose and poke at his tummy to make him stop. Pretty is pretty he’d say. “You can be a flower boy!” He’d declare, much to Baekhyun’s chagrin, but the shorter one would let him have his way in the end, retaliating with a fistful of grass stuffed unceremoniously into Chanyeol’s poofy hair that takes a few combings, a lot of pouting and a bath to remove.
They’d head home once the sun starts to set and Baekhyun would tuck the four-leaf clovers he had found wrapped safely in paper into the front pocket of his shirt before they got on their bicycles and paddled home, stopping by Baekhyun’s favourite cheap ramyeon place for dinner. Chanyeol always wondered what Baekhyun did with all the four-leaves he’s accumulated over their trips to the field and he finds out one day when he’s digging through his wallet for coins at the vending machine for a drink. He spots the little pocket of blue fabric amongst the silver coins and picks it up - it’s a tiny envelope, and inside it was a dry-pressed four leaf clover. Chanyeol can't help but grin when he sees it, taking it out of the coin compartment, carefully sliding it behind the photograph he kept of Baekhyun. Over time he’d discovered more little envelopes hidden in his toolboxes and pockets and books and he’s kept all of them, safely hidden behind the polaroid image of Baekhyun smiling brightly back at him, mid-laugh and armed with peace signs.
Baekhyun shows him the tattoo on his birthday, when they’re done eating their two slices of cake marked with craters where candles used to be, curled up together in bed with Kyungsoo and Suho lying on a pillow on the floor near the edge of their bed.
“What does it mean?” Chanyeol had asked, tracing the outline of the tiny four-leaf clover inked onto Baekhyun’s left wrist, on top of bones and barely visible veins and flesh. He had always been curious about why Baekhyun liked four-leaves so much, but it had never really occurred to him to ask.
Baekhyun’s taken aback by the question, blinking back blankly at Chanyeol before he clears his throat and averts his gaze, staring at Chanyeol’s ear intently as he tries to calm the blush that has crept onto his face.
“Well. Um.” Baekhyun starts, biting his lip, and Chanyeol twines their fingers together under the blankets, using his other hand to poke insistently at Baekhyun’s cheek. “The four leaves stand for different things.”
“Mmhmm,” Chanyeol nods, waiting for Baekhyun to continue.
“The first one’s for Faith,” He says quietly, squeezing Chanyeol’s hand.
“The second one’s for Hope,” Baekhyun rolls over so that he’s sitting on top of Chanyeol, leaning forward to kiss the other before whispering into his ear. “The third’s for Love.”
“And the forth one is for good luck.” He winks at Chanyeol with a playful laugh, letting the other flip them over so that he’s looking back up at Chanyeol from under him. He raises his eyebrows in confusion when Chanyeol lets go of his hand and reaches back towards the pocket of his pajama pants, eyes widening when Chanyeol slips a leather cord around his neck, holding a carved wooden four-leaf clover pendent up for him to see.
“I made it.” Chanyeol explains shyly. “As a thank you for all the real clovers you’ve been sneaking into my stuff.”
“You found them?” Baekhyun asks, surprised, taking the pendant from Chanyeol’s hand, smiling as he fiddled with it with his thumb and index.
“Yep. All twelve of them. You didn’t exactly hide them very well, Baek,” Chanyeol chuckles, tickling Baekhyun’s sides, stopping only when the smaller one threatens to knee him where it hurts, squirming violently as he tried to avoid Chanyeol’s fingers. The taller one beams back at Baekhyun when he sees the other tuck the pendant into his shirt, letting it rest near his heart before pulling Chanyeol closer, still breathing hard, chest rising and falling in time with his racing heartbeat.
“Happy Birthday, Baekkie.” Chanyeol whispers against Baekhyun’s lips when the other pulls him in hungrily for a kiss, eyelids fluttering shut when he feels Baekhyun’s hand trail down his abdomen to rest at the waistband of his pants, and Baekhyun kisses him tenderly once, twice more before he slips his tongue past Chanyeol’s parted lips and his hand past the elastic of his boxers, muffling moans and gasps when he feels Chanyeol’s fingers touching him there, gently at first, and then with increasing pressure and speed as his back arches and his legs start to tense, letting himself forget everything that isn’t overwhelmingly Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol.
♣
*
Chanyeol isn’t a heavy sleeper. He isn’t exactly a light one either, but he sleeps just deep enough for Baekhyun to think that he’s still in slumber and just light enough to know when Baekhyun slips out of bed at two or three in the morning, pulling the blankets over Chanyeol properly before he shuffles out of the room.
He’d lie there and listen, unmoving, to the sound the bell makes when Baekhyun scoops up Kyungsoo and to the sound of their door being shut, the tinkle that the windchimes make when the night breeze slips through the gap.
He’s followed Baekhyun once before. Out of curiosity he had slipped on his shoes and followed silently after, staying hidden behind pillars and corners while Baekhyun made his way to the rooftop, the shadow cast by Kyungsoo’s swishing tail dancing on the ground. Chanyeol follows behind once Baekhyun’s feet are no longer visible, taking the stairs slowly so he won’t make a sound. He climbs up a couple of steps so he can peek at Baekhyun, fingers gripping the railing tightly so he wouldn’t fall.
Baekhyun does nothing. He lies down on his back, Kyungsoo held in his arms, purring, and sometimes he talks to the cat in hushed whispers that Chanyeol can’t quite make out. But he does…absolutely nothing.
He wonders if this was a habit Baekhyun had developed before he moved in. Wonders what he says to Kyungsoo that he doesn’t say to him. Wonders when he forgot that Baekhyun also needs his time alone to think, that they used to live separate lives and still, to a certain degree, do.
Chanyeol remembers being torn back then between the strong urge to climb up the rest of the stairs and join him on the roof and the other feeling in his gut that tells him no, no don't do it, don’t ruin it.
He knows he’s made the right choice when Baekhyun climbs back into bed later - quietly, gently, so he doesn’t wake Chanyeol, lifting the blankets and wiggling under, curling up against him. He tries to keep his breathing even when Baekhyun presses his lips to his throat, feeling Baekhyun pull him closer than he usually does, and he pretends to move unconsciously, holding Baekhyun as tightly as he can without making it uncomfortable, his own little way of saying that he trusts him, that he’ll wait for the day that Baekhyun will take his hand and lead him up to the roof, for the day that he’ll be able to say to him all the things he whispers to Kyungsoo.
Until then he’ll hold him like this, every night, when he needs to.
That’s what he thought.
It never occurred to him until now, now that he’s the one with Kyungsoo on his tummy, talking to Suho as the white cat’s tail tickled his ears, staring up at the starless sky, lying sleepless on the rooftop at three in the morning that maybe, just maybe, Baekhyun had been waiting for him all along.
That maybe if he had reached out back then Baekhyun would have talked to him, told him, and they’d be able to figure something out and they wouldn’t be in this mess that they’re in right now, pulled so ruthlessly apart.
Maybe.
*
Baekhyun had turned himself in.
With exactly fourteen days left to graduation, he had turned himself in. Even if he could have gotten away with it if he had just kept silent, he turned himself in. Chanyeol still doesn’t completely understand the reasons why he had done what he had, but he’s all too familiar with Baekhyun’s strong sense of right and wrong, and the kind heart that let him take in Kyungsoo and Suho even though he barely had enough to feed himself.
Now that he thought about it, his actions had been a very Baekhyun thing to do.
It doesn’t make it hurt any less though.
His sister had come to pick him up a week after Baekhyun had left, knocking loudly on his door, demanding to be let in. I know you’re in there, Park Chan Yeol. He’d locked himself in their apartment the entire time after, doing nothing but staring dazedly at ceilings and walls and blank television screens as his head churned and pulled itself apart while his heart twisted itself in ways he never knew were possible. He had been a mess when he finally opened the door for his sister, collapsing into her arms when she pulls him in for a hug, sighing at the state of her baby brother.
Baekkie’s gone, he had choked out, clinging on to her desperately, crying into her shoulder. He left, noona. He’s gone.
He ended up going home, for the first time in years, staring out the window of the passenger seat of his sister’s car, looking away whenever they passed by the places he and Baekhyun used to go. She tells him all about Baekhyun’s case, having taken it upon herself to do what her brother couldn’t. Chanyeol doesn’t recall much, just something about how the dean in charge of academics had been threatening students with their scholarship status - many of whom, like Baekhyun, had no possibility of paying their fees otherwise, taking advantage of their vulnerability to force them into doing dirty jobs like drug deliveries.
He’d been arrested right after Baekhyun had turned himself in, given a hefty sentence and locked away, but Chanyeol could hardly bring himself to care for anything other than the fact that Baekhyun’s gone. Even the spite that he’d felt for the dean had been drowned out by his own misery and confusion, plaguing himself endlessly with useless questions he could never find answers for.
Why Baekhyun?
Why didn't Baekhyun tell him?
What’s he supposed to do now?
He asks his sister this when she’s driving him back to his and Baekhyun’s apartment, at the last red light before they round the corner to his block. She pauses a while before answering him with a question of her own.
“Do you love Baekhyun?” She asks simply, turning to look at Chanyeol once the car is parked. He answers without hesitation, firmly.
“Yes.”
“Then be there for him.” She smiles, giving his arm a squeeze.
*
part: iii
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~12k
Pairing: BaekYeol
Summary: Baekhyun was, is, to Chanyeol, back then and even now, his everything.
♣
They were simple college students in an arts university, passing their days like any other undergrad - pulling all nighters and squabbling over the last cup of coffee, deciding to split it, one loaded with sugar and the other black, poured into halves into two parts of a matching set of mugs. After exams and finals they’d come home exhausted from pigging out on barbequed meat and strawberry parfaits, collapsing together on their shared bed while Baekhyun whined weakly about smelling like seasoned beef and their general inability to afford anything other than rice and kimchi for the rest of the month.
In the summer they’d both take on extra part time jobs, trying to get as much spare cash as possible, pooling their money together for food and rent. They’d laze around on the couch watching reruns on television in shorts and sleeveless tops, Baekhyun resting comfortably against Chanyeol, the other’s arm looped around his waist while his chin rests atop Baekhyun’s crown, munching on slices of watermelon while they shared a tub of cold water and ice, feet dipped in to battle the heat.
Sometimes Baekhyun’s fingers would curl tightly into the fabric of Chanyeol’s shirt as he pulls him closer or pushes him down towards the cushions, straddling the taller one as fingertips traced over sweaty skin and quivering, pliant limbs. And in the heat and daze of the warmth of the summer sun filtering through their window they’d get lost in touches and feeling and the burn of skin on skin - or they’d just lie there together while Chanyeol held Baekhyun close, tucked safely under his chin, scrunching up his nose when stray wisps of dark hair graze his nose, suppressing sneezes while he listened to Baekhyun’s little snores while he napped, drool pooling into a small puddle on Chanyeol’s shoulder.
Baekhyun would bring home flyers for summer festivals and stick them up on the door of their refrigerator, keeping track of the ones with fireworks displays and Chanyeol would notice the way he would skimp on food for weeks before so that they’d have enough to splurge a little on the snacks at the stalls, walking hand in hand as they ate candied apples and tried not to get sugar all over their faces.
“Stop eating your hair,” Baekhyun would laugh at Chanyeol, taking a pin from his pocket with his clean hand, tucking the other’s fringe behind his ears and slipping the pin on while Chanyeol held still. They always went to the same festivals and without fail Chanyeol would run off while the other was queuing for food, picking out a wind chime to add to the ones Baekhyun already had hanging around their apartment - and he’d come running back to Baekhyun with the gift in his hands, grinning happily when Baekhyun nods in approval of his new acquisition.
The summer months were their favourite months because they got to bum around together, school and assignments buried far away in the back of their minds. They lived simply, taking things day by day, and it was more than anything the both of them could ask for, running around in circles as they chased each other, forgetting about ambitions and obligations as they put their dreams on hold and just loved.
♣
“Park Chan Yeol?” The guard pops his head into the waiting room, looking around as he called out Chanyeol’s name, smiling politely when he spots the familiar mop of curly hair. He’s short but not really, about the same height as Baekhyun but with a much more solid build. His name is Minseok, Chanyeol reads off his nametag, and he’s the guard that’s on duty every Saturday and Tuesday from two to six pm. “You can go in now.”
Chanyeol likes to watch the stray hairs on the top of his head while Minseok leads him through the long corridor to the other end, to one of the rooms where visitors could meet with inmates. They’d stop in front of a grey numbered door and Minseok would punch in a code number in the keypad before the door unlocked with a click. He lets Chanyeol in before he follows behind and sidesteps discreetly into the corner.
Chanyeol glances at the clock on the wall. Five thirty. He’s got half an hour.
“Hey Baekkie!” He greets cheerfully at the silent boy on the other side of the glass panel. He’s looking down, just like always, never reacting to anything Chanyeol says. Chanyeol wonders how someone who used to be so overwhelmingly warm could now be so cold, so detached, so faraway. He hasn’t been able to hold him in close to a year - hasn’t seen that brilliant smile of his for far too long. He really misses Baekhyun’s voice.
Baekhyun looks a little off today, Chanyeol observes, noticing the way he’s more fidgety than usual, occasional hints of a frown creeping onto the blank expression he always had when Chanyeol visited. He takes a deep breath before sliding into the steel chair opposite Baekhyun, on the other side of the glass wall. Then he starts, blurting out desperate monologues as he tries so painfully hard to keep them from falling apart.
*
They had been in the middle of figuring out their futures when it had happened. They were both in their final year at school, and Chanyeol had been offered a teaching position that they’d like him to fill once he’s graduated. He’d double up as a woodwork technician while helping with freshmen classes, and he’d have a stable job and a pretty good income. Baekhyun had jumped him when he had told him about it, squealing excitedly about how happy he was for Chanyeol and that he should accept the offer immediately, kissing him on the nose and forehead and cheek and all over the way he likes to when he’s happy.
Baekhyun never really talked about what he wanted to do after they were done with school. I just want to graduate he’d say, changing the subject back to Chanyeol whenever the other had asked. You want to teach don’t you? He’d smile at Chanyeol, distracting him, evading the topic each time. He knew Chanyeol well enough to be able to recite back to the other every dream he’s been told.
That had been eight months ago, in April, in the last spring of their lives as students, and it had been a scary time full of uncertainty for them both as they prepared to graduate but they were together, Chanyeol had thought - Baekhyun and Chanyeol, always, they’d figure things out together, and that had been more than enough to help him pull through.
Until he woke up early on a Monday morning two weeks before they were due to graduate to Kyungsoo clawing at his face and no Baekhyun in his arms, left with nothing more than a note with an apology.
I’m sorry, I love you.
And then Baekhyun was gone.
*
♣
Baekhyun had a strange obsession with clovers - and with all other things, Chanyeol had learnt, he was good at finding them as well. In the spring they’d ride their bikes (Chanyeol’s his old one from home and Baekhyun’s a birthday gift from Chanyeol’s older sister), Chanyeol’s old beat up black one alongside Baekhyun’s shiny red and new, zooming past houses and streets while they raced each other to the fields just on the outskirts of town. Sometimes Baekhyun would hop off his bike and slip playfully onto Chanyeol’s, pressing his cheek to Chanyeol’s back as he made the other cycle him around, screaming and flailing when Chanyeol would make sharp curves and sudden stops just so Baekhyun’s arms would tighten around his waist, smirking to himself as he paddled and Baekhyun muttered weak curses at him.
The field was just behind the old train station and occasionally people would glance at them while Baekhyun tries to tackle Chanyeol to the ground, jumping and pushing and shoving, looking just like two best friends with too much spare time, eyes blind to the touches that they would sneak each other, the way their hands would intertwine, the way Baekhyun would wrap his legs around Chanyeol’s hips and his hands around his neck, making a mess of the taller one’s hair while the other supported him, smiling when Baekhyun presses his lips eagerly against his own.
It was a place full of wildflowers and grass that did not so wonderful things for Chanyeol’s allergies. He’s never managed to find a single four-leaf clover, settling with observing Baekhyun as he waddled around the field in his jeans and t-shirt, eyes peeled to the ground, carefully searching. Chanyeol would fiddle with the grass near his feet, playing with touch-me-nots and dandelions, watching the fluffy white seeds float away in the air, holding a tissue to his nose as he sneezed and sniffled. He’d give up on looking for clovers and pick wild flowers to sneakily slip into Baekhyun’s hair, and sometimes he’d tie the stems together and make him a little crown, placing it gently atop his head while Baekhyun scowls.
“I'm not a girl,” He’d complain, trying to shake the plants out of his hair, and Chanyeol would pinch his nose and poke at his tummy to make him stop. Pretty is pretty he’d say. “You can be a flower boy!” He’d declare, much to Baekhyun’s chagrin, but the shorter one would let him have his way in the end, retaliating with a fistful of grass stuffed unceremoniously into Chanyeol’s poofy hair that takes a few combings, a lot of pouting and a bath to remove.
They’d head home once the sun starts to set and Baekhyun would tuck the four-leaf clovers he had found wrapped safely in paper into the front pocket of his shirt before they got on their bicycles and paddled home, stopping by Baekhyun’s favourite cheap ramyeon place for dinner. Chanyeol always wondered what Baekhyun did with all the four-leaves he’s accumulated over their trips to the field and he finds out one day when he’s digging through his wallet for coins at the vending machine for a drink. He spots the little pocket of blue fabric amongst the silver coins and picks it up - it’s a tiny envelope, and inside it was a dry-pressed four leaf clover. Chanyeol can't help but grin when he sees it, taking it out of the coin compartment, carefully sliding it behind the photograph he kept of Baekhyun. Over time he’d discovered more little envelopes hidden in his toolboxes and pockets and books and he’s kept all of them, safely hidden behind the polaroid image of Baekhyun smiling brightly back at him, mid-laugh and armed with peace signs.
Baekhyun shows him the tattoo on his birthday, when they’re done eating their two slices of cake marked with craters where candles used to be, curled up together in bed with Kyungsoo and Suho lying on a pillow on the floor near the edge of their bed.
“What does it mean?” Chanyeol had asked, tracing the outline of the tiny four-leaf clover inked onto Baekhyun’s left wrist, on top of bones and barely visible veins and flesh. He had always been curious about why Baekhyun liked four-leaves so much, but it had never really occurred to him to ask.
Baekhyun’s taken aback by the question, blinking back blankly at Chanyeol before he clears his throat and averts his gaze, staring at Chanyeol’s ear intently as he tries to calm the blush that has crept onto his face.
“Well. Um.” Baekhyun starts, biting his lip, and Chanyeol twines their fingers together under the blankets, using his other hand to poke insistently at Baekhyun’s cheek. “The four leaves stand for different things.”
“Mmhmm,” Chanyeol nods, waiting for Baekhyun to continue.
“The first one’s for Faith,” He says quietly, squeezing Chanyeol’s hand.
“The second one’s for Hope,” Baekhyun rolls over so that he’s sitting on top of Chanyeol, leaning forward to kiss the other before whispering into his ear. “The third’s for Love.”
“And the forth one is for good luck.” He winks at Chanyeol with a playful laugh, letting the other flip them over so that he’s looking back up at Chanyeol from under him. He raises his eyebrows in confusion when Chanyeol lets go of his hand and reaches back towards the pocket of his pajama pants, eyes widening when Chanyeol slips a leather cord around his neck, holding a carved wooden four-leaf clover pendent up for him to see.
“I made it.” Chanyeol explains shyly. “As a thank you for all the real clovers you’ve been sneaking into my stuff.”
“You found them?” Baekhyun asks, surprised, taking the pendant from Chanyeol’s hand, smiling as he fiddled with it with his thumb and index.
“Yep. All twelve of them. You didn’t exactly hide them very well, Baek,” Chanyeol chuckles, tickling Baekhyun’s sides, stopping only when the smaller one threatens to knee him where it hurts, squirming violently as he tried to avoid Chanyeol’s fingers. The taller one beams back at Baekhyun when he sees the other tuck the pendant into his shirt, letting it rest near his heart before pulling Chanyeol closer, still breathing hard, chest rising and falling in time with his racing heartbeat.
“Happy Birthday, Baekkie.” Chanyeol whispers against Baekhyun’s lips when the other pulls him in hungrily for a kiss, eyelids fluttering shut when he feels Baekhyun’s hand trail down his abdomen to rest at the waistband of his pants, and Baekhyun kisses him tenderly once, twice more before he slips his tongue past Chanyeol’s parted lips and his hand past the elastic of his boxers, muffling moans and gasps when he feels Chanyeol’s fingers touching him there, gently at first, and then with increasing pressure and speed as his back arches and his legs start to tense, letting himself forget everything that isn’t overwhelmingly Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol.
♣
*
Chanyeol isn’t a heavy sleeper. He isn’t exactly a light one either, but he sleeps just deep enough for Baekhyun to think that he’s still in slumber and just light enough to know when Baekhyun slips out of bed at two or three in the morning, pulling the blankets over Chanyeol properly before he shuffles out of the room.
He’d lie there and listen, unmoving, to the sound the bell makes when Baekhyun scoops up Kyungsoo and to the sound of their door being shut, the tinkle that the windchimes make when the night breeze slips through the gap.
He’s followed Baekhyun once before. Out of curiosity he had slipped on his shoes and followed silently after, staying hidden behind pillars and corners while Baekhyun made his way to the rooftop, the shadow cast by Kyungsoo’s swishing tail dancing on the ground. Chanyeol follows behind once Baekhyun’s feet are no longer visible, taking the stairs slowly so he won’t make a sound. He climbs up a couple of steps so he can peek at Baekhyun, fingers gripping the railing tightly so he wouldn’t fall.
Baekhyun does nothing. He lies down on his back, Kyungsoo held in his arms, purring, and sometimes he talks to the cat in hushed whispers that Chanyeol can’t quite make out. But he does…absolutely nothing.
He wonders if this was a habit Baekhyun had developed before he moved in. Wonders what he says to Kyungsoo that he doesn’t say to him. Wonders when he forgot that Baekhyun also needs his time alone to think, that they used to live separate lives and still, to a certain degree, do.
Chanyeol remembers being torn back then between the strong urge to climb up the rest of the stairs and join him on the roof and the other feeling in his gut that tells him no, no don't do it, don’t ruin it.
He knows he’s made the right choice when Baekhyun climbs back into bed later - quietly, gently, so he doesn’t wake Chanyeol, lifting the blankets and wiggling under, curling up against him. He tries to keep his breathing even when Baekhyun presses his lips to his throat, feeling Baekhyun pull him closer than he usually does, and he pretends to move unconsciously, holding Baekhyun as tightly as he can without making it uncomfortable, his own little way of saying that he trusts him, that he’ll wait for the day that Baekhyun will take his hand and lead him up to the roof, for the day that he’ll be able to say to him all the things he whispers to Kyungsoo.
Until then he’ll hold him like this, every night, when he needs to.
That’s what he thought.
It never occurred to him until now, now that he’s the one with Kyungsoo on his tummy, talking to Suho as the white cat’s tail tickled his ears, staring up at the starless sky, lying sleepless on the rooftop at three in the morning that maybe, just maybe, Baekhyun had been waiting for him all along.
That maybe if he had reached out back then Baekhyun would have talked to him, told him, and they’d be able to figure something out and they wouldn’t be in this mess that they’re in right now, pulled so ruthlessly apart.
Maybe.
*
Baekhyun had turned himself in.
With exactly fourteen days left to graduation, he had turned himself in. Even if he could have gotten away with it if he had just kept silent, he turned himself in. Chanyeol still doesn’t completely understand the reasons why he had done what he had, but he’s all too familiar with Baekhyun’s strong sense of right and wrong, and the kind heart that let him take in Kyungsoo and Suho even though he barely had enough to feed himself.
Now that he thought about it, his actions had been a very Baekhyun thing to do.
It doesn’t make it hurt any less though.
His sister had come to pick him up a week after Baekhyun had left, knocking loudly on his door, demanding to be let in. I know you’re in there, Park Chan Yeol. He’d locked himself in their apartment the entire time after, doing nothing but staring dazedly at ceilings and walls and blank television screens as his head churned and pulled itself apart while his heart twisted itself in ways he never knew were possible. He had been a mess when he finally opened the door for his sister, collapsing into her arms when she pulls him in for a hug, sighing at the state of her baby brother.
Baekkie’s gone, he had choked out, clinging on to her desperately, crying into her shoulder. He left, noona. He’s gone.
He ended up going home, for the first time in years, staring out the window of the passenger seat of his sister’s car, looking away whenever they passed by the places he and Baekhyun used to go. She tells him all about Baekhyun’s case, having taken it upon herself to do what her brother couldn’t. Chanyeol doesn’t recall much, just something about how the dean in charge of academics had been threatening students with their scholarship status - many of whom, like Baekhyun, had no possibility of paying their fees otherwise, taking advantage of their vulnerability to force them into doing dirty jobs like drug deliveries.
He’d been arrested right after Baekhyun had turned himself in, given a hefty sentence and locked away, but Chanyeol could hardly bring himself to care for anything other than the fact that Baekhyun’s gone. Even the spite that he’d felt for the dean had been drowned out by his own misery and confusion, plaguing himself endlessly with useless questions he could never find answers for.
Why Baekhyun?
Why didn't Baekhyun tell him?
What’s he supposed to do now?
He asks his sister this when she’s driving him back to his and Baekhyun’s apartment, at the last red light before they round the corner to his block. She pauses a while before answering him with a question of her own.
“Do you love Baekhyun?” She asks simply, turning to look at Chanyeol once the car is parked. He answers without hesitation, firmly.
“Yes.”
“Then be there for him.” She smiles, giving his arm a squeeze.
*
part: iii