Lavanya [1/3]
Title: Lavanya
Rating: R
Pairing: Baekyeol
Word Count:
Summary: Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt. (Inspired by E.S. Posthumus’s Lavanya)
Warning(s): slight homophobia
~damn this was long
~listen to lavanya, listen, listen. it’s so beautiful.
~lavanya is an indian word for beauty, btw.
~note: i’ve re-edited this since it was posted on sncj bigbang and have included a side drabble at the very end.
Lavanya
“Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts.
Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love,
but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain
and makes someone feel wonderful again.
Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt.”
-- Meša Selimović
₰₰₰₰
The lights have always been blinding.
The various colors shining down onto the stage were overwhelming at first, but through the last year, Baekhyun became used to their presence.
He grew to love the way they block out his sight.
Gazing up and smiling into the crowd, shadows blended together from the overhead lights, his vision becomes distorted.. He hears their screams and shouts and his chest fills up with a sudden flood of warmth.
This is what he always wanted. What he always dreamed of.
But then Baekhyun turns his head and sees Chanyeol smiling at him with his hand pointing out the crowd before them, eyes twinkling with a brightness ten times more blinding than the one shining down on them. Chanyeol’s teeth flash white as he shouts his name, attempting to be heard above the mass of fans despite knowing that he already has Baekhyun’s attention.
And Baekhyun feels the warmth spread through his chest as his stomach drops, just like it did the first time he stood on the stage to perform.
Chanyeol shouts his name again.
Baekhyun has more than one dream now.
₰₰₰₰
He notices Chanyeol staring at him as they prepare for another day of schedules and endless work. The entire band is tired, but they are in mid-promotions and only two short months away from the anniversary of their debut. Management is pushing them to work their hardest and all the members are doing their best.
Baekhyun pulls his shirt over his head and adjusts the hem around his hips, his body and mind are tired and overworked, making him move slower than usual. When he finally manages to lift his head after resisting the urge to fall asleep he sees big, brown eyes gazing across their dorm room. Chanyeol is holding his shirt in his hands, standing, unmoving like a statue.
Baekhyun swallows thickly, one of his hands clenching into a fist at his side. They stare at eachother, two dark shades of brown clashing until Chanyeol’s gaze begins to soften.
“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers, his deep voice surprisingly warm.
Chanyeol’s voice calms Baekhyun. It always has.
But his eyes are now so soft as they stare at Baekhyun that it is suffocating. Baekhyun can’t breathe, because he can see how Chanyeol is searching. Searching and seeking for something that teeters Baekhyun over the edge and pushes him down until his heart is slamming in his chest and he feels his hands begin to clam up and sweat profusely.
Chanyeol is searching and Baekhyun can’t give in.
Baekhyun turns away, his breath caught in his throat. He struggles to escape, mouthing words about going to the bathroom and leaves Chanyeol alone where he stands in his boxers, still undressed, with his shirt clenched tightly in his hands.
Baekhyun can’t bare to look him the eye the rest of the day.
That night Baekhyun lies awake in his bed and stares at the ceiling for a long time. The pattern is simple. Just a milky shade of white and panels of squares that fit against each other. Each one is the same size, the same color.
Baekhyun turns to the side and sees the lump of blankets that Chanyeol buried himself in. He can only see a few tufts of the short, brown hair splayed against the pillow, the only indication that Chanyeol is even there.
Baekhyun looks back up at the ceiling and clenches the sheets at his sides.
He wishes that his relationship with Chanyeol was just as simple as the clean, white uniformity above him.
₰₰₰₰
“Chanyeol,” he calls out a few nights later as he stands over his best friend’s bed. Baekhyun’s knees bump against the wood as his legs quiver. He doesn’t know how long he will be able to stand, it feels like he is going to collapse into himself and fall apart at the seams.
Chanyeol eyes blink open slowly and his hands move up to rub away the sleep from his eyes. It is three in the morning and Chanyeol has only been asleep for an hour and a half. Baekhyun laid awake, staring at Chanyeol’s sleeping form during that time, before he crawled out of bed to make his way to the other’s side.
Chanyeol stares up at him when he is able to focus enough. Baekhyun’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the sensation.
Chanyeol is staring again and Baekhyun feels sick to his stomach.
He can’t handle it, the way Chanyeol’s eyes are always searching. The way they are wanting, wanting for something that Baekhyun doesn’t think he can give.
It is too much, it has always been too much.
“I can’t.”
Chanyeol shouldn’t know what he is referring to right away. But Chanyeol’s eyes flicker with a brief sadness that Baekhyun can’t miss, because he notices everything about Chanyeol. He always notices. But then sadness is gone and Chanyeol stares up, his expression unusually blank.
Baekhyun feels the back of his eyes burn like he is on the verge of breaking down in tears.
And when Chanyeol speaks, Baekhyun thinks he will.
“Neither can I.”
₰₰₰₰
Chanyeol’s eyes lose some of their light after that night.
And, although Baekhyun doesn’t notice, his eyes lose their brightness as well.
They still smile for the fans, walk side by side, and Chanyeol clings onto Baekhyun’s oversized backpack as they make their way through crowded airports. The fans still scream when they exchange glances and grins. They are still best friends. They are still Baekhyun and Chanyeol, singer and rapper of EXO-K.
But they are not the same.
Baekhyun tries to convince himself that this reality is the better one.
₰₰₰₰
The beating of his heart warned him first. It sped up whenever their hands brushed, and whenever he heard that gruff laugh; it reacted just on cue. Like an orchestrated reaction. There was no stopping of it once it began. And, once Baekhyun realized it, he started becoming nervous. He wanted it to stop.
It wouldn’t. Instead it turned to red cheeks, and a warm feeling that boiled up from the pit of his stomach. His mouth started to dry out and his eyes wandered to parts of Chanyeol he shouldn’t look at.
He couldn’t control any of it.
But the little voice in the back of his head was shouting and screaming in his ear that no, this is bad, this is wrong and Baekhyun knew it.
Chanyeol knew it too.
They just can’t.
And not for the first time in his life, Baekhyun wishes that maybe their reality could be a different one.
₰₰₰₰
There is a heavy heat radiating on Baekhyun from his left side. Any other person would be uncomfortable and suffocating from the warmth, but Baekhyun always liked the heat turned high and blasting through the small dorm room. This heat is a different kind than Baekhyun is used to, but can’t seem to care about more than the fact that it is comfortable. Instead of trying to escape the warmth he shifts closer to it with a sigh.
The heat spreads toward his chest and around his waist and Baekhyun fades back into unconsciousness.
₰₰₰₰
The ceiling is the first thing Baekhyun notices.
Although Baekhyun became accustomed to waking in his dorm room, eyes unfocused and blurry as he looks up at the panels above him, with the life of an idol, always rushed and tired and flying from country to country, it is not uncommon to wake to a different room entirely. A hotel room that the company has arranged is the most common place. Sometimes Baekhyun is so exhausted. When he wakes up, he is disoriented for a while and unable to understand where he is. Usually, he sees Chanyeol still passed out on the bed beside him and remembers their travels the day before.
This time it’s different. The ceiling isn’t made up of panels or rough drywall, but a light blue paint. He does not remember falling asleep in a room with a blue ceiling. In fact, when he tries to think about the night before, his head begins to ache, a sharp pain shooting straight down the back of his neck all the way down to his spine. He grips the sheets at his sides and clenches his eyes shut, realizing then that the sheets are too soft and homey to be from a hotel.
His eyes blink open again and he finally takes the time to notice the room he is in.
It’s fairly small. The bed is pressed against one of the walls and takes up a majority of the space. There are some dressers and a few stands on either side of the bed, but besides that the room is plain with the curtains drawn over the window and the two closed doors.
There is a moment when Baekhyun’s mind goes blank and he blinks slowly, right before the panic kicks in.
He jerks up in bed, his heart slamming against his ribcage. His head snaps from side to side in disarray, before throwing the covers off his body and stumbling to get off the bed. There is no one else in the room, and there's the faint scent of something burning. Tousled covers on the other side of the bed tells Baekhyun that he was not sleeping alone. And, god, he’s sleeping in an oversized shirt that he definitely knows doesn’t belong to him. An abundance of scenarios open in his head of what could have happened last night, but the most prominent one is that some obsessed saesang fan kidnapped him and trapped him in her house.
Struggling to keep calm, he tries to tell himself that EXO’s security is too high for someone to actually be able to kidnap him. Even if something is wrong, SM will do something. Suho and the others wouldn’t leave him on his own without doing something.
But he can’t just wait around for them either.
Baekhyun tells himself to try and open one of the doors to see where he is.
Despite his resolve, it takes him awhile to reach the door closest to him. When he places his hand on the metal of the doorknob, his hand is shaking, despite his attempts to try to remain calm.
The door opens with ease, bringing a small living room into view. He steps inside slowly and almost immediately notices the person standing in the connected kitchen.
It’s not hard to recognize him. Baekhyun trained himself to look for him in crowded places so he wouldn’t get lost, and woke up in the bed across the room from him for months. He could recognize Chanyeol in a angry mob of people screaming and carrying pitchforks with the amount of time they spent around each other.
“Chanyeol?”
Baekhyun remembers the copper color of his hair from early on in their first year of debut. Something about the shade, the way it ruffles down the side of his face, styled in a messy fringe, like it did when Chanyeol had just woken up and was groaning about having only a few, short hours of sleep had left it memorable to Baekhyun. He had always liked it more than any other hair color on Chanyeol.
Not that he had ever voiced those thoughts out loud.
But its not about what Baekhyun had liked more. It’s that Chanyeol has short, black hair.
There is a flash of perfectly straight, white teeth. Familiar.
“Baekhyun,” he calls warmly. “You’re finally awake, sleepy head.”
Baekhyun only stares in return, his throat drying up and his voice leaving him.. He just watches as Chanyeol moves around the foreign kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets like he knows the place.
“I made us breakfast,” Chanyeol continues, “although the toast got a little burnt around the edges.” Chanyeol looks up and notices that Baekhyun hasn’t moved from the middle of the living room. His face softens, his eyes containing a dazzling warmth. He smiles softly, looking at Baekhyun like he is the most precious jewel in the world. “Go grab a seat, babe.”
Baekhyun chokes on air. He can’t breath, can’t get his body to obey and take in the air that he is gasping for. He shakes his head back and forth, but Chanyeol is still smiling at him.
“What is this?” It comes out as a breathless gasp and Baekhyun is surprised he can even speak the words.
Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow slightly, noticing the change in Baekhyun’s behavior, but too far away to see the way he is practically hyperventilating. He looks down at the plate he is holding. “Eggs and bacon?” he responds in confusion.
“No, what is this?!” Baekhyun practically shrieks, his voice shrill.
This person is not Chanyeol. His behavior is all wrong, the gaze in his eyes is all wrong, the way he speaks to Baekhyun is all wrong; this is not his best friend. This is someone else.
Not-Chanyeol inches closer, reaching his hand out towards Baekhyun in concern. “Babe...”
“Who are you?” Baekhyun nearly shouts, his voice bordering on panic, because he is calling him by a term of endearment again and Chanyeol has never called him that. God, he needs to get back to the dorm. He has his schedule. If he’s late he’ll mess things up for everyone. Everything will be delayed and Suho will be the one that takes the fall. He can’t let Suho be yelled at. He needs to get back to the group. He needs to go.
“Baekhyun,” the impersonator whispers quietly, his voice cracking slightly, “This isn’t funny.”
It’s not funny. It’s not funny at all.
Baekhyun scrambles backwards and crashes into a stand by the couch, tipping it over, the contents on top of it spilling onto the ground. There is the distinct sound of something shattering, but it fades into the background, drowned out by the buzzing and ringing in his head. He doesn’t realize he is barefoot until tiny stabs of pain travel up from his feet.
Chanyeol looks shocked at first, but when Baekhyun starts walking on the shattered lamp pieces, his expression turns frantic and he practically tosses the plate of food onto the counter before he is barreling forward. “Wait, wait, don’t move! You’ll hurt yourself.”
This time Baekhyun does shout. “Stay away from me!”
The man before him looks as if he was just burned, his eyes flashing wide and his hand yanking away from Baekhyun and instead hovering in the air by his side. “Baek..” His voice breaks, and Baekhyun swears he can hear a slight tremble in it. “Come on... just, just get off the glass, okay?” His hand moves forward extremely slowly, as if he is afraid to scare Baekhyun off. When Baekhyun doesn’t flinch away, he takes a step closer. “It’s me,” he whispers, “It’s Chanyeol.”
Baekhyun almost believes him for a moment, the deep voice so deceiving, but the eyes tell him all he needs to know.
“No! You aren’t Chanyeol!”
Whirling around, he dashes toward the closest door, not caring about the pain in his feet and instead focuses on just getting away. The door he throws open is to the bathroom, and before the other can reach him, he shuts the door and fumbles with the lock.
“Baekhyun!” The gruff voice sounds panicked, and Baekhyun flashes briefly to when the firework went off in front of his face on stage. When Chanyeol had gotten on the ground next to him, his voice frantic as he checked on Baekhyun’s eye. “Baekhyun, I don’t - I don’t understan--” the knocking on the door ceases. “Baekhyun, please open the door. Please, just open the door.”
Baekhyun doesn’t answer. He stares at the wood and tries to breathe.
“Please...”
There is no other sound after that, and Baekhyun hopes that the other man has stopped hovering around the door. He steps away, only then realizing there's another door on the other side of the bathroom. He reaches it just as it begins to pull open and he scrambles to shut it, pulling with all the strength he has.
“Baek--”
“Stop!” Baekhyun says, yanking the door shut and doing his best to lock it at the same time. The moment its closed and safe, the pounding on the door starts again, his name repeated over and over like a mantra.
His head hurts, sharp pain stabbing at his skull.
“Go away!” He shouts, clutching his head in his hands. “Leave me alone!”
He doesn’t, the knocking and the shouting just gets louder. Baekhyun shuts his eyes, his fingers gripping at the side of his head as he walks in circles, wishing the pain away.
When his eyes blink open he is facing the mirror.
The face that stares back in the mirror looks like him, but it isn’t him. The hair is black and short, there aren’t any dark circles under his eyes, his face looks less smooth like it isn’t constantly treated with products, and there is a little scar on his left cheek that Baekhyun did not have before.
The mirror reflects someone who is just as much of a stranger as the man still pounding on the other side of the door.
He screams.
₰₰₰₰
When the door finally is broken down for the tall man to get inside, Baekhyun is curled up in the empty bathtub. He looks up blankly, not caring enough to try to avoid the other anymore.
When the man sees the tears still running down Baekhyun’s face and the blood covering the tub where Baekhyun’s injured feet are, his expression changes. It goes from worried to angry to distressed in a matter of seconds and the only reason Baekhyun can notice the slight change is because he has seen them before.
He doesn’t move when Chanyeol crawls into the tub, his own eyes watering as he moves slowly until his hand is touching Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun doesn’t move, just continues to stare blankly through hazy eyes.
When Baekhyun attempts to blink the tears away, his vision clears enough to see the single tear trailing down Chanyeol’s face, as he pulls Baekhyun’s limp body against his chest.
“Baekhyun,” the man whispers. “Baekhyun, please don’t cry.” His large hands brush across Baekhyun’s face, too gentle, too warm. Caressing hands from a lover. The hands touching him are soft and gentle. Nothing like the rough skin with fingers warn from playing guitar he is used to.
It’s a reminder that this man is not Chanyeol.
Baekhyun flinches away from the touch.
₰₰₰₰
Chanyeol stares at him from across the table. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern and Baekhyun feels like a caged animal at the zoo, on display to be watched by greedy eyes. Though his instinct tell him not to be threatened, not to worry because the face before him is familiar to him, Baekhyun is on edge, body tense, ready to fight if startled like the trapped animal he is.
The table they are both sitting at is small, rectangular in shape and suitable for only two. Their legs brushed against each other when they first sat down; Chanyeol’s legs are too long and need to be stretched out. Seeing Baekhyun’s reaction to the contact, he shifted in his chair so his legs were nowhere near brushing against the others and were pressed firmly against the side of the chair instead.
Chanyeol wrapped Baekhyun’s feet up in some bandages himself since the cuts hadn’t been too bad and none of the lamp shards embedded into the bottom of his feet to need professional removal. He had asked if Baekhyun wanted to go to the hospital, but he refused. Baekhyun wondered if Chanyeol wanted to get his brain checked out or something instead.
Baekhyun stares at the way Chanyeol’s fingers flex on the table, as if he is making a move to grab something. Baekhyun’s own hands are fisted in his lap and he keeps his gaze strictly focused there in order to avoid the eyes locked onto him.
An uncomfortable chill creeps up Baekhyun’s spine forces his eyes to shift, not daring to look at the person across from him, trying to focus on something, anything else around the room.
His eyes flash around the small apartment, from this to that, never staying long in one spot. That is until he notices something. There is a picture frame sitting on a cabinet. Its a simple wooden frame, nothing stands out about it. Inside he sees the Chanyeol before him, in a simple outfit with a hat on and grinning straight at the camera. His arm is wrapped around the shoulder of someone else, who is dressed just as casual as the other. The brown eyes of the body that looks like Baekhyun are gleaming with happiness. Shining with that look that Chanyeol had given him before the panic attack.
Baekhyun finally turns forward, staring straight into the other’s eyes.
Chanyeol looks away.
₰₰₰₰
Chanyeol leads him down the hall, his feet practically stomping with each step like a fumbling giant and it’s so familiar that Baekhyun has to force the bile from rising up his throat.
He pushes open the door to the room where Baekhyun had woken up in, before he turns and flashes a smile in Baekhyun’s direction. It’s too familiar.
He’s seen this wide, all teeth grin so many times before, but never directed at him. Always at the cameras, at the overeager fans that push and shove. The fake smile he adopted to be the ‘Happy Virus’ he wants everyone to see.
Baekhyun goes rigid, his body locking in place and Chanyeol must notice it, because the smile fades off his face in the flash of an eye and instead they stare at each other again.
“You can sleep here,” Chanyeol whispers. Baekhyun nods slowly and walks into the room, holding his breath as he passes by where the other stands in the doorway. Chanyeol points toward one of the two dressers. “Your clothes-- I mean... You can find clothes there to wear.”
“Thanks,” Baekhyun mumbles in response, his gaze half on Chanyeol and half on the wall next to him. Silence follows and it just eats away at the tension in the air. Chanyeol shifts his weight to his other foot.
“I can sleep on the couch,” Chanyeol says, his mouth twitching into a gentle smile that isn’t so forced. Probably an attempt to reassure Baekhyun that everything is okay, fine, nothing is wrong at all. Even though his eyes are shining with that look that speaks of something entirely different.
Baekhyun slams the door in his face.
₰₰₰₰
Next
Rating: R
Pairing: Baekyeol
Word Count:
Summary: Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt. (Inspired by E.S. Posthumus’s Lavanya)
Warning(s): slight homophobia
~damn this was long
~listen to lavanya, listen, listen. it’s so beautiful.
~lavanya is an indian word for beauty, btw.
~note: i’ve re-edited this since it was posted on sncj bigbang and have included a side drabble at the very end.
Lavanya
“Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts.
Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love,
but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain
and makes someone feel wonderful again.
Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt.”
-- Meša Selimović
₰₰₰₰
The lights have always been blinding.
The various colors shining down onto the stage were overwhelming at first, but through the last year, Baekhyun became used to their presence.
He grew to love the way they block out his sight.
Gazing up and smiling into the crowd, shadows blended together from the overhead lights, his vision becomes distorted.. He hears their screams and shouts and his chest fills up with a sudden flood of warmth.
This is what he always wanted. What he always dreamed of.
But then Baekhyun turns his head and sees Chanyeol smiling at him with his hand pointing out the crowd before them, eyes twinkling with a brightness ten times more blinding than the one shining down on them. Chanyeol’s teeth flash white as he shouts his name, attempting to be heard above the mass of fans despite knowing that he already has Baekhyun’s attention.
And Baekhyun feels the warmth spread through his chest as his stomach drops, just like it did the first time he stood on the stage to perform.
Chanyeol shouts his name again.
Baekhyun has more than one dream now.
₰₰₰₰
He notices Chanyeol staring at him as they prepare for another day of schedules and endless work. The entire band is tired, but they are in mid-promotions and only two short months away from the anniversary of their debut. Management is pushing them to work their hardest and all the members are doing their best.
Baekhyun pulls his shirt over his head and adjusts the hem around his hips, his body and mind are tired and overworked, making him move slower than usual. When he finally manages to lift his head after resisting the urge to fall asleep he sees big, brown eyes gazing across their dorm room. Chanyeol is holding his shirt in his hands, standing, unmoving like a statue.
Baekhyun swallows thickly, one of his hands clenching into a fist at his side. They stare at eachother, two dark shades of brown clashing until Chanyeol’s gaze begins to soften.
“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers, his deep voice surprisingly warm.
Chanyeol’s voice calms Baekhyun. It always has.
But his eyes are now so soft as they stare at Baekhyun that it is suffocating. Baekhyun can’t breathe, because he can see how Chanyeol is searching. Searching and seeking for something that teeters Baekhyun over the edge and pushes him down until his heart is slamming in his chest and he feels his hands begin to clam up and sweat profusely.
Chanyeol is searching and Baekhyun can’t give in.
Baekhyun turns away, his breath caught in his throat. He struggles to escape, mouthing words about going to the bathroom and leaves Chanyeol alone where he stands in his boxers, still undressed, with his shirt clenched tightly in his hands.
Baekhyun can’t bare to look him the eye the rest of the day.
That night Baekhyun lies awake in his bed and stares at the ceiling for a long time. The pattern is simple. Just a milky shade of white and panels of squares that fit against each other. Each one is the same size, the same color.
Baekhyun turns to the side and sees the lump of blankets that Chanyeol buried himself in. He can only see a few tufts of the short, brown hair splayed against the pillow, the only indication that Chanyeol is even there.
Baekhyun looks back up at the ceiling and clenches the sheets at his sides.
He wishes that his relationship with Chanyeol was just as simple as the clean, white uniformity above him.
₰₰₰₰
“Chanyeol,” he calls out a few nights later as he stands over his best friend’s bed. Baekhyun’s knees bump against the wood as his legs quiver. He doesn’t know how long he will be able to stand, it feels like he is going to collapse into himself and fall apart at the seams.
Chanyeol eyes blink open slowly and his hands move up to rub away the sleep from his eyes. It is three in the morning and Chanyeol has only been asleep for an hour and a half. Baekhyun laid awake, staring at Chanyeol’s sleeping form during that time, before he crawled out of bed to make his way to the other’s side.
Chanyeol stares up at him when he is able to focus enough. Baekhyun’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the sensation.
Chanyeol is staring again and Baekhyun feels sick to his stomach.
He can’t handle it, the way Chanyeol’s eyes are always searching. The way they are wanting, wanting for something that Baekhyun doesn’t think he can give.
It is too much, it has always been too much.
“I can’t.”
Chanyeol shouldn’t know what he is referring to right away. But Chanyeol’s eyes flicker with a brief sadness that Baekhyun can’t miss, because he notices everything about Chanyeol. He always notices. But then sadness is gone and Chanyeol stares up, his expression unusually blank.
Baekhyun feels the back of his eyes burn like he is on the verge of breaking down in tears.
And when Chanyeol speaks, Baekhyun thinks he will.
“Neither can I.”
₰₰₰₰
Chanyeol’s eyes lose some of their light after that night.
And, although Baekhyun doesn’t notice, his eyes lose their brightness as well.
They still smile for the fans, walk side by side, and Chanyeol clings onto Baekhyun’s oversized backpack as they make their way through crowded airports. The fans still scream when they exchange glances and grins. They are still best friends. They are still Baekhyun and Chanyeol, singer and rapper of EXO-K.
But they are not the same.
Baekhyun tries to convince himself that this reality is the better one.
₰₰₰₰
The beating of his heart warned him first. It sped up whenever their hands brushed, and whenever he heard that gruff laugh; it reacted just on cue. Like an orchestrated reaction. There was no stopping of it once it began. And, once Baekhyun realized it, he started becoming nervous. He wanted it to stop.
It wouldn’t. Instead it turned to red cheeks, and a warm feeling that boiled up from the pit of his stomach. His mouth started to dry out and his eyes wandered to parts of Chanyeol he shouldn’t look at.
He couldn’t control any of it.
But the little voice in the back of his head was shouting and screaming in his ear that no, this is bad, this is wrong and Baekhyun knew it.
Chanyeol knew it too.
They just can’t.
And not for the first time in his life, Baekhyun wishes that maybe their reality could be a different one.
₰₰₰₰
There is a heavy heat radiating on Baekhyun from his left side. Any other person would be uncomfortable and suffocating from the warmth, but Baekhyun always liked the heat turned high and blasting through the small dorm room. This heat is a different kind than Baekhyun is used to, but can’t seem to care about more than the fact that it is comfortable. Instead of trying to escape the warmth he shifts closer to it with a sigh.
The heat spreads toward his chest and around his waist and Baekhyun fades back into unconsciousness.
₰₰₰₰
The ceiling is the first thing Baekhyun notices.
Although Baekhyun became accustomed to waking in his dorm room, eyes unfocused and blurry as he looks up at the panels above him, with the life of an idol, always rushed and tired and flying from country to country, it is not uncommon to wake to a different room entirely. A hotel room that the company has arranged is the most common place. Sometimes Baekhyun is so exhausted. When he wakes up, he is disoriented for a while and unable to understand where he is. Usually, he sees Chanyeol still passed out on the bed beside him and remembers their travels the day before.
This time it’s different. The ceiling isn’t made up of panels or rough drywall, but a light blue paint. He does not remember falling asleep in a room with a blue ceiling. In fact, when he tries to think about the night before, his head begins to ache, a sharp pain shooting straight down the back of his neck all the way down to his spine. He grips the sheets at his sides and clenches his eyes shut, realizing then that the sheets are too soft and homey to be from a hotel.
His eyes blink open again and he finally takes the time to notice the room he is in.
It’s fairly small. The bed is pressed against one of the walls and takes up a majority of the space. There are some dressers and a few stands on either side of the bed, but besides that the room is plain with the curtains drawn over the window and the two closed doors.
There is a moment when Baekhyun’s mind goes blank and he blinks slowly, right before the panic kicks in.
He jerks up in bed, his heart slamming against his ribcage. His head snaps from side to side in disarray, before throwing the covers off his body and stumbling to get off the bed. There is no one else in the room, and there's the faint scent of something burning. Tousled covers on the other side of the bed tells Baekhyun that he was not sleeping alone. And, god, he’s sleeping in an oversized shirt that he definitely knows doesn’t belong to him. An abundance of scenarios open in his head of what could have happened last night, but the most prominent one is that some obsessed saesang fan kidnapped him and trapped him in her house.
Struggling to keep calm, he tries to tell himself that EXO’s security is too high for someone to actually be able to kidnap him. Even if something is wrong, SM will do something. Suho and the others wouldn’t leave him on his own without doing something.
But he can’t just wait around for them either.
Baekhyun tells himself to try and open one of the doors to see where he is.
Despite his resolve, it takes him awhile to reach the door closest to him. When he places his hand on the metal of the doorknob, his hand is shaking, despite his attempts to try to remain calm.
The door opens with ease, bringing a small living room into view. He steps inside slowly and almost immediately notices the person standing in the connected kitchen.
It’s not hard to recognize him. Baekhyun trained himself to look for him in crowded places so he wouldn’t get lost, and woke up in the bed across the room from him for months. He could recognize Chanyeol in a angry mob of people screaming and carrying pitchforks with the amount of time they spent around each other.
“Chanyeol?”
Baekhyun remembers the copper color of his hair from early on in their first year of debut. Something about the shade, the way it ruffles down the side of his face, styled in a messy fringe, like it did when Chanyeol had just woken up and was groaning about having only a few, short hours of sleep had left it memorable to Baekhyun. He had always liked it more than any other hair color on Chanyeol.
Not that he had ever voiced those thoughts out loud.
But its not about what Baekhyun had liked more. It’s that Chanyeol has short, black hair.
There is a flash of perfectly straight, white teeth. Familiar.
“Baekhyun,” he calls warmly. “You’re finally awake, sleepy head.”
Baekhyun only stares in return, his throat drying up and his voice leaving him.. He just watches as Chanyeol moves around the foreign kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets like he knows the place.
“I made us breakfast,” Chanyeol continues, “although the toast got a little burnt around the edges.” Chanyeol looks up and notices that Baekhyun hasn’t moved from the middle of the living room. His face softens, his eyes containing a dazzling warmth. He smiles softly, looking at Baekhyun like he is the most precious jewel in the world. “Go grab a seat, babe.”
Baekhyun chokes on air. He can’t breath, can’t get his body to obey and take in the air that he is gasping for. He shakes his head back and forth, but Chanyeol is still smiling at him.
“What is this?” It comes out as a breathless gasp and Baekhyun is surprised he can even speak the words.
Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow slightly, noticing the change in Baekhyun’s behavior, but too far away to see the way he is practically hyperventilating. He looks down at the plate he is holding. “Eggs and bacon?” he responds in confusion.
“No, what is this?!” Baekhyun practically shrieks, his voice shrill.
This person is not Chanyeol. His behavior is all wrong, the gaze in his eyes is all wrong, the way he speaks to Baekhyun is all wrong; this is not his best friend. This is someone else.
Not-Chanyeol inches closer, reaching his hand out towards Baekhyun in concern. “Babe...”
“Who are you?” Baekhyun nearly shouts, his voice bordering on panic, because he is calling him by a term of endearment again and Chanyeol has never called him that. God, he needs to get back to the dorm. He has his schedule. If he’s late he’ll mess things up for everyone. Everything will be delayed and Suho will be the one that takes the fall. He can’t let Suho be yelled at. He needs to get back to the group. He needs to go.
“Baekhyun,” the impersonator whispers quietly, his voice cracking slightly, “This isn’t funny.”
It’s not funny. It’s not funny at all.
Baekhyun scrambles backwards and crashes into a stand by the couch, tipping it over, the contents on top of it spilling onto the ground. There is the distinct sound of something shattering, but it fades into the background, drowned out by the buzzing and ringing in his head. He doesn’t realize he is barefoot until tiny stabs of pain travel up from his feet.
Chanyeol looks shocked at first, but when Baekhyun starts walking on the shattered lamp pieces, his expression turns frantic and he practically tosses the plate of food onto the counter before he is barreling forward. “Wait, wait, don’t move! You’ll hurt yourself.”
This time Baekhyun does shout. “Stay away from me!”
The man before him looks as if he was just burned, his eyes flashing wide and his hand yanking away from Baekhyun and instead hovering in the air by his side. “Baek..” His voice breaks, and Baekhyun swears he can hear a slight tremble in it. “Come on... just, just get off the glass, okay?” His hand moves forward extremely slowly, as if he is afraid to scare Baekhyun off. When Baekhyun doesn’t flinch away, he takes a step closer. “It’s me,” he whispers, “It’s Chanyeol.”
Baekhyun almost believes him for a moment, the deep voice so deceiving, but the eyes tell him all he needs to know.
“No! You aren’t Chanyeol!”
Whirling around, he dashes toward the closest door, not caring about the pain in his feet and instead focuses on just getting away. The door he throws open is to the bathroom, and before the other can reach him, he shuts the door and fumbles with the lock.
“Baekhyun!” The gruff voice sounds panicked, and Baekhyun flashes briefly to when the firework went off in front of his face on stage. When Chanyeol had gotten on the ground next to him, his voice frantic as he checked on Baekhyun’s eye. “Baekhyun, I don’t - I don’t understan--” the knocking on the door ceases. “Baekhyun, please open the door. Please, just open the door.”
Baekhyun doesn’t answer. He stares at the wood and tries to breathe.
“Please...”
There is no other sound after that, and Baekhyun hopes that the other man has stopped hovering around the door. He steps away, only then realizing there's another door on the other side of the bathroom. He reaches it just as it begins to pull open and he scrambles to shut it, pulling with all the strength he has.
“Baek--”
“Stop!” Baekhyun says, yanking the door shut and doing his best to lock it at the same time. The moment its closed and safe, the pounding on the door starts again, his name repeated over and over like a mantra.
His head hurts, sharp pain stabbing at his skull.
“Go away!” He shouts, clutching his head in his hands. “Leave me alone!”
He doesn’t, the knocking and the shouting just gets louder. Baekhyun shuts his eyes, his fingers gripping at the side of his head as he walks in circles, wishing the pain away.
When his eyes blink open he is facing the mirror.
The face that stares back in the mirror looks like him, but it isn’t him. The hair is black and short, there aren’t any dark circles under his eyes, his face looks less smooth like it isn’t constantly treated with products, and there is a little scar on his left cheek that Baekhyun did not have before.
The mirror reflects someone who is just as much of a stranger as the man still pounding on the other side of the door.
He screams.
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When the door finally is broken down for the tall man to get inside, Baekhyun is curled up in the empty bathtub. He looks up blankly, not caring enough to try to avoid the other anymore.
When the man sees the tears still running down Baekhyun’s face and the blood covering the tub where Baekhyun’s injured feet are, his expression changes. It goes from worried to angry to distressed in a matter of seconds and the only reason Baekhyun can notice the slight change is because he has seen them before.
He doesn’t move when Chanyeol crawls into the tub, his own eyes watering as he moves slowly until his hand is touching Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun doesn’t move, just continues to stare blankly through hazy eyes.
When Baekhyun attempts to blink the tears away, his vision clears enough to see the single tear trailing down Chanyeol’s face, as he pulls Baekhyun’s limp body against his chest.
“Baekhyun,” the man whispers. “Baekhyun, please don’t cry.” His large hands brush across Baekhyun’s face, too gentle, too warm. Caressing hands from a lover. The hands touching him are soft and gentle. Nothing like the rough skin with fingers warn from playing guitar he is used to.
It’s a reminder that this man is not Chanyeol.
Baekhyun flinches away from the touch.
₰₰₰₰
Chanyeol stares at him from across the table. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern and Baekhyun feels like a caged animal at the zoo, on display to be watched by greedy eyes. Though his instinct tell him not to be threatened, not to worry because the face before him is familiar to him, Baekhyun is on edge, body tense, ready to fight if startled like the trapped animal he is.
The table they are both sitting at is small, rectangular in shape and suitable for only two. Their legs brushed against each other when they first sat down; Chanyeol’s legs are too long and need to be stretched out. Seeing Baekhyun’s reaction to the contact, he shifted in his chair so his legs were nowhere near brushing against the others and were pressed firmly against the side of the chair instead.
Chanyeol wrapped Baekhyun’s feet up in some bandages himself since the cuts hadn’t been too bad and none of the lamp shards embedded into the bottom of his feet to need professional removal. He had asked if Baekhyun wanted to go to the hospital, but he refused. Baekhyun wondered if Chanyeol wanted to get his brain checked out or something instead.
Baekhyun stares at the way Chanyeol’s fingers flex on the table, as if he is making a move to grab something. Baekhyun’s own hands are fisted in his lap and he keeps his gaze strictly focused there in order to avoid the eyes locked onto him.
An uncomfortable chill creeps up Baekhyun’s spine forces his eyes to shift, not daring to look at the person across from him, trying to focus on something, anything else around the room.
His eyes flash around the small apartment, from this to that, never staying long in one spot. That is until he notices something. There is a picture frame sitting on a cabinet. Its a simple wooden frame, nothing stands out about it. Inside he sees the Chanyeol before him, in a simple outfit with a hat on and grinning straight at the camera. His arm is wrapped around the shoulder of someone else, who is dressed just as casual as the other. The brown eyes of the body that looks like Baekhyun are gleaming with happiness. Shining with that look that Chanyeol had given him before the panic attack.
Baekhyun finally turns forward, staring straight into the other’s eyes.
Chanyeol looks away.
₰₰₰₰
Chanyeol leads him down the hall, his feet practically stomping with each step like a fumbling giant and it’s so familiar that Baekhyun has to force the bile from rising up his throat.
He pushes open the door to the room where Baekhyun had woken up in, before he turns and flashes a smile in Baekhyun’s direction. It’s too familiar.
He’s seen this wide, all teeth grin so many times before, but never directed at him. Always at the cameras, at the overeager fans that push and shove. The fake smile he adopted to be the ‘Happy Virus’ he wants everyone to see.
Baekhyun goes rigid, his body locking in place and Chanyeol must notice it, because the smile fades off his face in the flash of an eye and instead they stare at each other again.
“You can sleep here,” Chanyeol whispers. Baekhyun nods slowly and walks into the room, holding his breath as he passes by where the other stands in the doorway. Chanyeol points toward one of the two dressers. “Your clothes-- I mean... You can find clothes there to wear.”
“Thanks,” Baekhyun mumbles in response, his gaze half on Chanyeol and half on the wall next to him. Silence follows and it just eats away at the tension in the air. Chanyeol shifts his weight to his other foot.
“I can sleep on the couch,” Chanyeol says, his mouth twitching into a gentle smile that isn’t so forced. Probably an attempt to reassure Baekhyun that everything is okay, fine, nothing is wrong at all. Even though his eyes are shining with that look that speaks of something entirely different.
Baekhyun slams the door in his face.
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