Pull me closer for london9calling
For: london9calling
Title: Pull Me Closer
Pairing(s): Chanyeol/Baekhyun
Rating: PG-13
Length: 5.9k
Summary: With all the experience he has in receiving love letters, you’d think Chanyeol would be able to confess to his crush.
Author's note: I sort of tried to combine two of your prompts, and I hope I did it some satisfactory form of justice! sorry if this wasn’t what you were expecting; this is the result of years-long writers block heh. also my apologies for some very limited gamer knowledge.
Chanyeol fiddles with his phone, stretching his legs out as he waits on the school steps. It’s quarter to five, meaning Baekhyun should be out soon. He opens up a random game on his phone to pass the time, thumbs swiping across the screen. It’s not too long after when he feels a tap on his shoulder and he hears Baekhyun’s cheery voice.
“Ready to go?” He asks, and Chanyeol pockets his phone, standing up to his full height. He’s practically a foot taller than Baekhyun, towering over him even when he’s standing a few steps lower. “Practice ended early?”
Chanyeol nods, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. Track and field runs at the same time as swim club, and it sort of became an unspoken routine between the two of them to head home together after. “How was the pool?”
Baekhyun shrugs, “Coach made us do relays today.” He starts to head down the steps. His hair is dripping wet and he shakes it out in attempts to dry it quicker. “Sorry if you were waiting long.” He gazes up at Chanyeol from between wet strands.
“Just a few minutes, don’t worry,” Chanyeol colours, automatically looking away. He pulls his hood up over his head to hide his cheeks, “Flappy Bird kept me company.”
Baekhyun grins, not at all surprised Chanyeol still has that four-year-old game on his phone. “Well, come on let’s go. If I’m out here any longer I’ll turn into ice,” he shivers a bit, and Chanyeol considers giving him his jacket for a moment, but the desire subsides and he follows him out through the school gates. They both stare down at the orange, yellow and red leaves, and Chanyeol purposely stretches out his steps to hear the crunch of the leaves beneath his feet to fill the silence.
They’re walking side-by-side, and Chanyeol knows it would be so easy to slip his hand into Baekhyun’s, squeeze it tight; pretend they’re something more. But of course, they’re only friends. And so he keeps his right hand in his sweater pocket, clenching it in the fabric as they continue their walk home.
“Wufan smacked his face into the bar today,” Chanyeol starts, “he mistimed his jump and ended up getting a nosebleed.” He chuckles. “He spent the rest of practice with an ice pack on his face and tissues up his nose, and I swear his lips turned blue.”
Baekhyun starts to laugh, the kind where his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Chanyeol smiles. Looking at him, it’s easy for Chanyeol to remember why he fell for him the first time.
→
“I’m sorry, but I’m just not ready to date at the moment,” Chanyeol says, bowing his head. His hands are deep in his pockets, a nervous habit he picked up whenever he feels the need to fidget. His fingers play with the threads, pulling at the inside of his pocket as the girl nods, “thank you though, seriously.”
She smiles back, the corners of her mouth slightly downturned. “Oh okay, I understand. Bye Chanyeol.” She turns away and Chanyeol waits until she’s disappeared around the corner before letting out a loud sigh.
“Another one, huh?”
Baekhyun’s voice shocks him out of his mental pity party, and Chanyeol lets a smile slip onto his face as he sees his friends walk towards him.
“Don’t start,” Chanyeol warns with a friendly lilt, and Sehun grins.
“That was, what, your third one this month?”
“I don’t know, I’m not counting,” Chanyeol mumbles, and he opens up his locker to grab his books for their next class.
“You’re going to say yes someday, right?” Sehun playfully elbows him, “or are you waiting for the whole school to ask you out so you know all your options?”
“Maybe,” Chanyeol jokes, shutting his locker as they continue down the hall, “it’d be nice to know the exact number of people who have the hots for me.”
“God, if only they heard you talk first before confessing. Then your total would dwindle down to zero.” Baekhyun scoffs.
“Yeah, right now they’re missing out on revelations such as, if a vampire bites a zombie, does that zombie became a vampire? Or a vampire-zombie? And would they eat brains or blood?” Sehun says, mocking Chanyeol’s previous thoughts from the day before.
“Those are genuine questions,” Chanyeol argues, “and no one even answered me!”
“You’re an idiot,” Baekhyun says, reaching up to flick him on the forehead. “Maybe we should release your latest exam results and save all these girls from falling for your-“ he raises two fingers to make quotations in the air, “-charm.”
Chanyeol grins and raises an eyebrow, “so you admit I have charm?”
“I also think you need to retake your IQ test, but you wouldn’t want me advertising that, would you?”
Sehun laughs.
→
Chanyeol is no stranger to confessions; he’s received the occasional letter here and there, and sometimes a girl will profess her feelings in person. It makes it that much harder, but Chanyeol still says no, giving some excuse of not having enough time, or that dating just isn’t an option at the moment, due to school or track and field.
The flow of confessions started after he hit his growth spurt that shot him clear past six feet, and he lost the baby fat he had been carrying through middle school. It was around the same time that he joined track and field, and the athletics helped fill his torso out.
Even with the size of their school, Chanyeol is hard to miss. It’s his height and voice really.
And ever since three weeks ago, his red hair.
Like, fire truck red, if Chanyeol had to analogize it. He hadn’t realized just how bright it was until he woke up the next day with red-stained pillows. Obviously mixing drinks with truth or dare that night hadn’t swung his way, considering the worst thing Wufan had to do was eat uncooked instant ramen, and Chanyeol came out of it with an aching hangover and hair the colour of a tomato.
He hadn’t bothered to dye it back, shrugging the colour change off because he surprisingly pulled it off. Much to his parents’ chagrin, of course.
It’s weeks later now and though the colour has faded, it’s still giving him more attention than normal.
Like for instance, in the form of a bathroom note.
Normally he sees phone numbers scrawled across the wall, or jokes when someone obviously got bored spending too much time in the stalls. But there are nine words written in the space between the sinks, fitting perfectly within one tile, and Chanyeol can’t stop staring at them. The handwriting is slanted and strange, written with capital letters interspersed throughout the lowercase.
Letters passed to him in class-or stuffed through the slits of his locker-he’s had experience with. But never a confession scribbled on a wall.
I love your red hair,
And I love you
→
“How do you know it’s not about someone else?” Jongdae asks, and Chanyeol doesn’t even bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t even lift his head up off the table, but simply raises a hand to point at the obvious mop of redness sitting atop his head, and he hears Jongdae softly say, “oh, right.”
“So that’s the fourth one,” Sehun grins, “sixth I think, since the start of term.”
Chanyeol sighs and sits up. “Can you not keep track of my admirers? It’s getting weird.”
“I think it’s weird you called them your admirers but alright there, Ronald McDonald.” Sehun mocks, ruffling Chanyeol’s hair.
“I thought we stopped with the clown jokes.”
“I don’t think we ever agreed to that,” Jongdae grins. “I was thinking of getting you a matching nose for Christmas to complete the look,” he leans over and pretends to squish an imaginary sponge sitting at the end of Chanyeol’s nose.
“I’m leaving all of you,” Chanyeol deadpans. He stands up and grabs his lunch tray to make a dramatic exit, only to be hindered by the laughter of his friends when he stumbles over his chair leg and nearly falls on his ass.
“You know, Clown Academy is still accepting applications,” Wufan says between chuckles, and Chanyeol flips them off.
→
Chanyeol is falling asleep when something small hits the side of his face and he startles awake, very aware that he was seconds away from drooling in public. The back of his neck grows hot with embarrassment when he hears Baekhyun snicker from across the table, and he looks up to see him with a reserve of wadded-up paper balls next to him. Baekhyun slyly grins and gives him a thumbs-up.
Chanyeol smiles, and leans his head to the side to stretch out his neck. It’s only six pm but spending the day at the public library drains him, even if he’s with Baekhyun.
To be honest, the only reason he’s actually at the library is because of Baekhyun.
With midterms are coming up, Jongdae had suggested a study group, only to bail because Final Fantasy XV just came out and logging hours on his Xbox trumped studying for biology. Chanyeol had wholeheartedly agreed, but that C on his past test wasn’t doing him any favours. Wufan and Sehun had joined them for the majority of the day, leaving when it got dark around four o’clock.
It’s nearly half an hour later when Chanyeol puts his pen down and yawns. “Can we leave now?” He half-whispers, despite knowing the answer before Baekhyun even shakes his head no.
He holds up his hands, signalling for ten more minutes, and Chanyeol slumps back in the chair, pulling his hood up over his head to block out the harsh fluorescents. He’s about to doze off again when he hears something fall onto his book, and he opens his eyes to see a red origami heart sitting in the middle of the open pages.
He scans the aisles left and right to find their area empty. Picking it up and examining the art, Chanyeol unfolds the origami to see a handwritten message, and he realizes it’s another confession. His cheeks warm up, because getting a letter is already discomforting, but with Baekhyun sitting across from him, Chanyeol can’t help but flush red.
Before he can finish reading, he hears Baekhyun start to pack up, and he glances up.
“Thought you wanted ten more minutes?”
“Changed my mind. Let’s go.” His tone is somewhat curt, but Chanyeol doesn’t question it and he slips the paper heart in between the pages of his book before shoving everything into his bag to follow Baekhyun out of the library.
→
Track and field is cancelled on Thursday, and Chanyeol slips into swim practice, choosing to sit on the bleachers and watch rather than go home early. He doesn’t get to do this much, considering he’s always got his own practice to go to.
Baekhyun is in his seventh lap, alternating between the four strokes with each lap. He disappears under the water to tumble turn, pushing off the side as he shoots through the water. Sehun is in the lane next to him, working on his butterfly.
It’s almost mesmerising to watch Baekhyun swim. His muscles flex with each stroke and Chanyeol can see just how distinguished he’s become over the years. His shoulders are much more broad now, tapering down to a narrower waist with defined abs. It’s only when his mouth is dry does Chanyeol realize he’s watching Baekhyun too closely, and he immediately shoves his hands into his sweater pocket to play with the threads.
Chanyeol has known Baekhyun since middle school, when they were put in pairs to research a marine animal, and both of them said ‘whale shark’ at the same time. Baekhyun had been the new kid, and Chanyeol was a friendly face he could laugh with.
Their friendship came easy, with no awkward pauses or forceful prompts to get the other to talk. Chanyeol had introduced him to Wufan, Jongdae and Sehun that day, and the five of them graduated to the same high school years later.
He wasn’t sure when it was that he fell for him. Chanyeol supposes it wasn’t an exact day, but a gradual crush that built up with every laugh and smile Baekhyun threw his way. It probably was in every joke Baekhyun told, or moment they said something simultaneously, that Chanyeol lit up with growing affection. And it definitely was in every swim meet Chanyeol attended where he saw Baekhyun’s determination for his sport, with a concentrated gaze as he dove into the pool, and noticed just how passionate Baekhyun could be.
A buzzer sounds and Chanyeol watches as Sehun and Baekhyun finish their last lap, Baekhyun touching the side first before fist pumping and splashing water Sehun’s way. Chanyeol tries to hold back a laugh, holding his arm up to muffle his sounds, but Sehun is looking so frustrated compared to Baekhyun who’s practically dancing. They both lift themselves out of the pool, and Sehun gives Baekhyun a reluctant high-five for his victory before his eyes meet Chanyeol’s and he gives a wave.
“Hey!” Sehun shouts, grabbing his towel off their bench as he slips into flip-flops and half-jogs to Chanyeol. Chanyeol sees Baekhyun spin around; his eyes wide in surprise, before he’s grinning and following suit.
“What are you doing here?” Sehun asks, plopping himself next to Chanyeol as he towels his hair.
“Practice got cancelled,” Chanyeol shrugs, trying to play off how rare it is that he comes to see them swim.
Baekhyun sits on the row below, his towel a light green colour. It’s draped over his shoulders, and Chanyeol’s wondering just how cold it is for them.
Sehun frowns. “Why didn’t you go home?” And Chanyeol mentally curses his friend. He glances up at glass roof, trying to avoid eye contact with Baekhyun otherwise he knows he’ll definitely turn red again, and he’s been trying to limit the amount of times that happens.
“Uh, thought I’d just watch you guys a bit.”
Great. That didn’t sound creepy at all. “Anyways,” Chanyeol coughs, “I should head home now.”
“No, stay!” Baekhyun says, smiling wide, “we’re doing sprints next and you know Sehun just loves to lose.”
Chanyeol isn’t really listening when Sehun splutters in response, because Baekhyun is laughing, and he can’t help but join in along with him.
“Okay, just for a bit,” Chanyeol agrees.
→
He waits for Baekhyun to finish changing, leaning against the wall outside the locker room. He’s about to pull up Flappy Bird again but then the door opens and Baekhyun walks out, his hair still mildly wet.
“You’re still here?” Baekhyun asks when he sees him, a slight tone of surprise in his question. “Even Sehun left already.”
“Don’t we always walk home together after practice?” Chanyeol answers with a grin. “Hey, what’s up with your shoulder?” He frowns, watching as Baekhyun rolls his shoulder back and forth.
“I think I worked it too hard today,” Baekhyun says, a slight grimace on his face. “Probably during the sprints. Should be oka-hey, hey what are you doing?”
Baekhyun pauses mid-sentence as Chanyeol grabs his bag off him. “I’m carrying it for you,” he shrugs, and Baekhyun rolls his eyes.
“Thanks mom, but I don’t need you to do that.”
“Baek, stop being so proud and let me,” Chanyeol reasons as he slings the strap across his body. He’s already halfway down the hall when he hears Baekhyun say a quiet, “thanks,” from behind and he turns to give him a smile.
“Now let’s go. You’re going to get pneumonia with that wet head of yours. And then I’ll have to be at your deathbed to say I told you so.”
Baekhyun shakes his head with a smirk, and hastens his pace to catch up.
→
“Come on, Baek, they’re right behind you!” Chanyeol shouts, smashing buttons on his controller as Widowmaker flies across the screen on her grappling hook. Chanyeol hears Baekhyun mutter, “shit!” before Tracer is spinning around and throwing her pulse bomb at the red heroes.
“Ah shit, they killed me,” Baekhyun sighs, and Chanyeol adjusts his headphones before Widowmaker runs out of her hiding spot and towards a red player.
“Ugh respawning is taking forever,” Baekhyun complains as he impatiently mauls his controller’s buttons. Chanyeol’s eyes flicker to their Skype call on the left screen, chuckling at the sight of a frustrated Baekhyun.
“Fuck it, I’m going to switch to Pharah,” Baekhyun mutters. “Why did I try playing Tracer. Byun Baekhyun,” he starts to lecture himself, “always stick with Pharah!”
In the midst of the game, Chanyeol can’t help but smile, and the words have left his lips before he can even register what he’s saying.
“You’re so cute, Baekhyun.”
Shit.
“Wait, what did you say?” Baekhyun distractedly asks, his own gaze moving to their video chat with a puzzled expression.
“Uh, nothing,” Chanyeol scrambles for a lie, “my mom’s calling me, I gotta go!” And he flicks his Internet off before Baekhyun can open his mouth.
→
If Baekhyun was upset at Chanyeol bailing during their game, he doesn’t mention it. In fact, he acts completely normal, and Chanyeol breathes out a deep sigh of relief that Baekhyun hadn’t heard him.
→
It’s in the middle of a jump when Chanyeol hears it, and he tumbles over, his hands automatically reaching for his ankle. The hurdle is loud when it falls to the ground, but Chanyeol’s already blinking back tears, because holy fuck does this hurt.
“Shit, what happened?” Wufan comes running over, ice pack already in hand as he whistles to their coach.
“Pushed off wrong,” Chanyeol grits out, pressing the pack to his ankle to help soothe the pain. It only makes it worse, but he knows it’s better than to wait it out. “Got caught on the hurdle.”
“Fuck, you need to go to the hospital,” Wufan says, and he leans down to help Chanyeol up. “Can you stand okay?” He asks, and Chanyeol nods. With Wufan’s help he hops to the side, exiting the gym through the double doors. Their coach pulls his car up curb-side, after dismissing everyone saying practice is ending early.
Chanyeol feels like crumbling to the ground, because he’s never been in this much pain, not even when fifteen year-old Baekhyun was showing him a hapkido kick on him and accidentally got too close.
They pass the pool, and Chanyeol steals a glance to his left. Despite the pain, he lets a smile slip on his face when he sees Baekhyun surface during his front crawl.
→
“What the hell, you idiot!” Is the first thing Baekhyun says when he enters his room.
“Um, what?” Chanyeol frowns. He’s lying in bed, his left foot elevated on top of some pillows with gel smeared all over it. He’s still in his track clothes, because he refused to wear the hospital garments when they admitted him.
“Don’t be so stupid!” Baekhyun reprimands, grabbing the closest soft thing to him (Chanyeol’s hoodie on the chair) as he whacks him with it.
“Hey, hey! I’m in pain here!” Chanyeol holds an arm up as a makeshift barrier from Baekhyun’s attacks. He throws a defenseless look Wufan and Jongdae’s way, but the pair just blink at him before returning to their conversation of Final Fantasy.
“Okay, I think he’s been punished enough.” Sehun steps in from behind after a few more whacks, placing a hand on Baekhyun’s arm to stop any more assaults from him. “He’s already got his fucked up ankle for that.” He grabs the hoodie, throwing it back on the chair as he goes to sit next to Jongdae.
“Why are you hurting me?” Chanyeol asks, his face plastered with confusion.
Baekhyun heaves out a deep sigh. “Be more careful!” He plops himself into the chair nearest to the bed. “It’s a good thing it’s only your tendon, and that you didn’t break bone,” he chastises, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes.
“What are your parents going to say?” Baekhyun clucks his tongue.
“And here I thought I was your mom,” Chanyeol teases, the grin slipping off his face when Baekhyun shoots him a glare. “Okay, no jokes. Besides, we won’t know until they get here in an hour.”
At this, Baekhyun grins, “great, that means I have sixty minutes to scold you.”
Chanyeol groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Isn’t the visiting time period over soon?”
“You wish,” Jongdae snorts. “We can stay here until seven.”
→
They leave around six thirty, not that Chanyeol is complaining. He kind of wished they all left earlier, and that he didn’t have to remain here overnight, but beggars can’t be choosers. Baekhyun is still here of course, voicing his wish to stay until he’s kicked out.
His parents come by, his mother basically mimicking Baekhyun minus the physical abuse, and his father shrugging it off as a minor injury, thankful it wasn’t more serious. They leave the room around the same time, going to find some food for the three of them because hospital dinner that night doesn’t sound appealing at all.
“Can you leave,” Chanyeol deadpans, when Baekhyun is in the middle of counting all the horrible things that could have happened instead of a torn tendon.
“You could have broken your talus, or tendinosis still could technically happen if you’re not careful,” he’s ignoring Chanyeol and scrolling through some WebMD page, as if he’s his doctor.
“I’m going to get a restraining order,” Chanyeol mutters, trying to turn his back to him as much as he can with his leg bandaged up.
“Chanyeol, I’m serious.”
With this, Chanyeol glances up, eyes falling on the sight of a very solemn Baekhyun.
“You know, years ago, I was basically in your position,” Baekhyun comes to sit at his bedside, and Chanyeol nods.
“Yeah, you fucked up your shoulder,” he says quietly.
“The pain wasn’t even the worst part,” Baekhyun says, “it was thinking that I would never be able to swim again,” he’s distracted, drawing patterns in Chanyeol’s bedsheet with his finger. His hair isn’t fully dry, Sehun and him having come straight from practice, and with his eyes all sad he looks like a wet puppy.
“I just don’t,” Baekhyun pauses, taking in a deep breath, “I don’t want you to go through that too, Chanyeol.” His eyes flicker up and for a moment their gazes hold, eyes unwavering. Baekhyun stands up, leaning in towards Chanyeol, and for a second, he thinks he’s about to kiss him.
But then he feels a sharp on his forehead and he instinctively reaches up to massage the spot, “Ow!”
“So don’t be an idiot.” Baekhyun gives a sly smile, “or I’ll flick you harder next time.”
→
Chanyeol’s back at home the next afternoon, skipping school in favour for Overwatch and junk food. He’s living in the front room, because going up and down the stairs on crutches is wildly unnecessary when he can just camp out in front of the TV with his PS4 and laptop.
He’s in the middle of watching Episode VII of Star Wars when he hears the front door open and he yells out a half-hearted greeting to his mother. She drops something in his lap, and he reluctantly pauses the movie.
“What’s this?” He frowns, turning the envelope over in his hands. His name is printed on the front, in strange writing.
She shrugs, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge as she comes to join him on the couch. “It was on the door step.”
His mother grabs the remote from him to continue the movie, and Chanyeol’s too absorbed to bother pausing it again. The envelope is unsealed and he slides the card out, immediately laughing at the front.
It’s a cheesy store-bought card, the words printed on the front saying: I hope you feel better soon, so when you come back I can make you feel immediately shit again.
He knows it’s from Baekhyun before he even opens it. It’s such a typical Baekhyun type of thing to do.
The message reads: get better, don’t eat too much chocolate! You’re going to need to train even harder for spring season, considering you fucked up your foot. followed by a smiley face.
Opening up Snapchat, he takes a selfie with the card and sends it to Baekhyun, the caption reading fuck you (: with the snap showing a picture of Chanyeol with a mouthful of M&Ms.
→
When Chanyeol finally returns to school it’s a few days later. He’s not that used to the crutches yet, and his hands are starting to get sore from gripping the handles too tight. It makes it worse when he looks at how red his palms are.
He’s balancing on one foot at the urinal, and Jongdae is playing with his crutches as they wait. Baekhyun’s got his bag slung across his shoulder (“Now it’s my turn.”).
“Give me those back,” Chanyeol motions for Jongdae as he zips up his pants, and the latter grins.
“The sinks are right behind you, you can hop.”
“Asshole,” Chanyeol mutters, and Jongdae doesn’t deny it.
“Besides, you shouldn’t touch your crutches until you’ve washed your hands. Haven’t you heard of bacteria?” He makes another circle around the bathroom, swinging on the crutches as Chanyeol clumsily hops to the sinks.
It’s when he reaches up to turn off the tap that he sees it, that note from all those weeks ago. He’s about to turn away, when an image of Baekhyun’s card flickers in his mind, and he blinks wide, staring at the confession scrawled on the bathroom tile.
“What’s up?” Baekhyun frowns, noticing Chanyeol’s shift in demeanour, and he glances up at him.
“Um, nothing,” he mumbles. He half-wrestles his crutches from Jongdae, who’s having too much fun playing with them, and fits the cushion pads under his armpits. He doesn’t-can’t-mention it in front of Jongdae. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late for class.”
“Only because you move slower than a turtle.” Jongdae quips.
“Hey, do you want to give these a try?” Chanyeol challenges, and he gladly hands them back as he hops out of the bathroom. “In fact, I bet you to go one whole day walking on these without complaint.”
Jongdae pfts. “Easy stuff. Make a note in your calendar, Chanyeol. I’ll be taking ten bucks from you tomorrow at two pm.”
“Likely story,” Chanyeol scoffs, stumbling down the hall as he half-limps, half-leaps down the hall. “And it’s going to be twenty bucks you’ll be giving me.”
They’re too busy arguing that Chanyeol misses it when Baekhyun’s gaze lingers a little too long on the message on the wall, before he lets the bathroom door swing shut and he jogs to catch up with them.
→
When Chanyeol gets home he runs (well, runs is a bit of an overstatement, more like he hobbles) over to his makeshift bed on the couch, rummaging through the blankets and mess he’s accumulated over the past four days. It takes a while and he thumbs through his schoolbooks before the card falls out from between his notebook, and he snatches it up as he tosses the book over his shoulder.
He knew it looked familiar. He’s quite disappointed in himself, mentally berating himself that he didn’t realize it before, considering their six-year friendship. But things change over time.
Things like handwriting.
He knows it’s the same. Staring at Baekhyun’s card, he knows he’s the one who wrote that message, and a mixture of emotions flutter inside him.
Before he can rethink this (and before he loses the courage to do so), he fumbles for his phone from his bag and dials a number. It rings twice before the other line picks up, and Chanyeol takes a deep breath,
“Hey Baek, you free tonight?”
→
Waiting for Baekhyun is completely nerve-wracking. Chanyeol’s got his hands in his pockets as always, trying to balance on his crutches as best as he can.
He’s half-thinking this was a bad idea, and they should just go to a movie or something, but when the realisation hit him all he wanted to do was run to Baekhyun and scream that he knows.
But of course, he can’t run, and there are obviously much better, subtler ways of conveying his knowledge about the subject than yelling it.
Chanyeol can’t keep still, rocking back on his one good foot as he taps the side of his crutch. He’s early, so it’s not Baekhyun’s fault he’s waiting. They’re meeting outside the ice cream shop close to school, as it’s walking (read: hobbling) distance from Chanyeol’s, because he’s not in any condition to drive.
Baekhyun arrives a few minutes later, and Chanyeol’s quite thankful he had the time to mentally prepare for this.
“Hey, what’s up?” Baekhyun asks, eyes bright as he walks up to him.
“Um, do you want to get some ice cream?”
→
Baekhyun hops up on the ledge, spooning out a small scoop into his mouth.
Chanyeol settled for a chocolate cone, hoping the sugar would give him more assurance than he currently possessed. In reality, he finished it in a few minutes, nerves causing him to wolf it down over savouring the taste.
They were walking through the park when Baekhyun decided he wanted to sit for a bit (thankfully, because Chanyeol’s foot was kind of killing him).
Chanyeol leans his crutches against the wall, and hoists himself up onto the ledge to join Baekhyun with less difficulty than he suspected. They’re both quiet, people-watching as a man with his terrier walk through the grass. The dog stops and sniffs the air, then all of sudden pounces towards a tree, chasing a squirrel as it runs up the trunk and disappears into the leaves.
He supposes now is a better time than any, and it sort of slips out in a much less confident tone than he was hoping to sound.
“So, you know I got your message the other day.”
“What?” Baekhyun’s brows knit together. He’s got his spoon in his mouth as he quizzically looks at Chanyeol for further explanation.
“I think it was you anyways,” Chanyeol continues, “I saw it in the bathroom one day.” He doesn’t even need to turn his head to know Baekhyun’s gaze has dropped, and he smirks. “It said something about my red hair, written on a tile in the second floor bathroom?” Chanyeol bends down to sneak a look at Baekhyun’s face. He’s already blushing, trying to hide the colour in his cheeks by burying his face into his scarf. Chanyeol’s heart thumps.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Baekhyun stammers, pulling his scarf up to cover his nose. He’s got a hand twisted in the ends of it, playing with the threads as he avoids eye contact with Chanyeol.
“I know a lot of things about you Baekhyun,” Chanyeol starts. He carefully lowers himself off the ledge, stumbling to turn and face Baekhyun on his right foot, “like I know your favourite flavour of ice cream is honeycomb-caramel if that isn’t available, which it hardly ever is-and that you cried when we went to see Moana.“ he pauses, counting off the things on his fingers, “I know you love playing piano almost as much as swimming, and that you almost tore your rotator cuff during freshman year. I also know you fidget when you’re lying, just how I do when I’m poolside watching one of your relays.” Chanyeol takes a clumsy step closer towards him, placing his hand over Baekhyun’s own.
With Baekhyun still sitting on the ledge, they’re almost at eye level with each other; he’s slightly taller than Chanyeol, and he gazes down at him, their eyes unwavering and locked.
“And the last thing I know,” Chanyeol whispers, mustering all the confidence he possibly can in a single moment, “is that I probably love you as much as you love me.”
There’s no turning back now, and he leans in, the last thing he sees before closing his eyes is Baekhyun’s own fluttering shut.
Then they’re kissing. It’s soft and careful, and Chanyeol begins to concentrate more on where to put his hands rather than on the actual kiss, because he really, really doesn’t want to screw this up. But then Baekhyun’s hands move to rest at the back of his neck, tugging him forward ever so slightly, and Chanyeol melts.
Thoughts flash in his mind, such as oh my god! and I can’t believe I’m kissing Baekhyun!
Baekhyun starts to kiss him harder, and Chanyeol gladly reciprocates. He moves his mouth against Baekhyun’s with more intensity, opening up slightly to run his tongue along Baekhyun’s bottom lip. It’s when he hears Baekhyun softly moan that he pulls him in closer and feels legs wrap around his waist.
They pull away minutes later, Baekhyun breathing heavily with his hands still around Chanyeol’s neck.
“So, you think my red hair is sexy, huh?” Chanyeol asks, pupils dilated and breath rushed.
“Shut up.”
“Why don’t you make me?” Chanyeol challenges, a cocky eyebrow raised. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, and Chanyeol says, “You know, I think I’m going to need an actual confession though.”
“Um, what?” Baekhyun looks at him ludicrously, about to snort.
“You know, it would be great for you to actually confess to me. Feels more real, don’t you think?” Chanyeol grins smugly. “Just say Chanyeol, will you go out with me?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“An idiot that is going to walk away.”
“Ugh, okay, fine! Chanyeol, will you go out with me?” Baekhyun asks, his tone robotic.
Chanyeol smiles, for real this time, and leans in once more, “No, sorry, maybe next time.”
Baekhyun flicks his head, “Chanyeol!”
“Joking,” Chanyeol holds his hands up in fake surrender, before clasping Baekhyun’s in his. “Of course, Baekhyun, I will go out with you.”
→
“Hey, did you do that?” Jongdae asks, stealing the juice box off of Chanyeol’s lunch tray as he seats himself next to Sehun.
“Do what?” Chanyeol asks, attempting to swipe for the drink when Jongdae holds it out of his reach.
“Write that thing in the bathroom, you know, under Baekhyun’s note.” He stabs the straw through the top, slurping the stolen apple juice with a guilt-free conscience.
Baekhyun glances up, his attention diverted from his own lunch, “What? What happened?” He sits up straighter, throwing a puzzled look Chanyeol’s way.
Chanyeol just shrugs in response, taking a bite of his sandwich to occupy his mouth.
Jongdae grins. “Go check out the bathroom.”
“What’s he talking about?” Baekhyun asks, giving Chanyeol a pointed look in hopes of demanding an answer.
“Honestly,” Chanyeol feigns ignorance, “I have no idea what he’s talking about.” He leans over and plants a kiss on Baekhyun’s lips.
“Ugh, Baekhyun just go check it out,” Wufan says, rolling his eyes without looking up from his book. “Unless you want to get mauled by Chanyeol and his mouth for the nth time today.”
Baekhyun snorts, leaving the cafeteria in curiosity after flipping Wufan off.
Chanyeol knows exactly what Baekhyun’s reaction will be, when he sees the message written under his own, and he grins to himself.
It’s Chanyeol’s first own confession, and despite being only five words, he thinks it sums up his feelings for Baekhyun perfectly.
It’s really all he needs to say to be honest.
I love your red hair,
And I love you
and I love you back.
Title: Pull Me Closer
Pairing(s): Chanyeol/Baekhyun
Rating: PG-13
Length: 5.9k
Summary: With all the experience he has in receiving love letters, you’d think Chanyeol would be able to confess to his crush.
Author's note: I sort of tried to combine two of your prompts, and I hope I did it some satisfactory form of justice! sorry if this wasn’t what you were expecting; this is the result of years-long writers block heh. also my apologies for some very limited gamer knowledge.
Chanyeol fiddles with his phone, stretching his legs out as he waits on the school steps. It’s quarter to five, meaning Baekhyun should be out soon. He opens up a random game on his phone to pass the time, thumbs swiping across the screen. It’s not too long after when he feels a tap on his shoulder and he hears Baekhyun’s cheery voice.
“Ready to go?” He asks, and Chanyeol pockets his phone, standing up to his full height. He’s practically a foot taller than Baekhyun, towering over him even when he’s standing a few steps lower. “Practice ended early?”
Chanyeol nods, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. Track and field runs at the same time as swim club, and it sort of became an unspoken routine between the two of them to head home together after. “How was the pool?”
Baekhyun shrugs, “Coach made us do relays today.” He starts to head down the steps. His hair is dripping wet and he shakes it out in attempts to dry it quicker. “Sorry if you were waiting long.” He gazes up at Chanyeol from between wet strands.
“Just a few minutes, don’t worry,” Chanyeol colours, automatically looking away. He pulls his hood up over his head to hide his cheeks, “Flappy Bird kept me company.”
Baekhyun grins, not at all surprised Chanyeol still has that four-year-old game on his phone. “Well, come on let’s go. If I’m out here any longer I’ll turn into ice,” he shivers a bit, and Chanyeol considers giving him his jacket for a moment, but the desire subsides and he follows him out through the school gates. They both stare down at the orange, yellow and red leaves, and Chanyeol purposely stretches out his steps to hear the crunch of the leaves beneath his feet to fill the silence.
They’re walking side-by-side, and Chanyeol knows it would be so easy to slip his hand into Baekhyun’s, squeeze it tight; pretend they’re something more. But of course, they’re only friends. And so he keeps his right hand in his sweater pocket, clenching it in the fabric as they continue their walk home.
“Wufan smacked his face into the bar today,” Chanyeol starts, “he mistimed his jump and ended up getting a nosebleed.” He chuckles. “He spent the rest of practice with an ice pack on his face and tissues up his nose, and I swear his lips turned blue.”
Baekhyun starts to laugh, the kind where his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Chanyeol smiles. Looking at him, it’s easy for Chanyeol to remember why he fell for him the first time.
→
“I’m sorry, but I’m just not ready to date at the moment,” Chanyeol says, bowing his head. His hands are deep in his pockets, a nervous habit he picked up whenever he feels the need to fidget. His fingers play with the threads, pulling at the inside of his pocket as the girl nods, “thank you though, seriously.”
She smiles back, the corners of her mouth slightly downturned. “Oh okay, I understand. Bye Chanyeol.” She turns away and Chanyeol waits until she’s disappeared around the corner before letting out a loud sigh.
“Another one, huh?”
Baekhyun’s voice shocks him out of his mental pity party, and Chanyeol lets a smile slip onto his face as he sees his friends walk towards him.
“Don’t start,” Chanyeol warns with a friendly lilt, and Sehun grins.
“That was, what, your third one this month?”
“I don’t know, I’m not counting,” Chanyeol mumbles, and he opens up his locker to grab his books for their next class.
“You’re going to say yes someday, right?” Sehun playfully elbows him, “or are you waiting for the whole school to ask you out so you know all your options?”
“Maybe,” Chanyeol jokes, shutting his locker as they continue down the hall, “it’d be nice to know the exact number of people who have the hots for me.”
“God, if only they heard you talk first before confessing. Then your total would dwindle down to zero.” Baekhyun scoffs.
“Yeah, right now they’re missing out on revelations such as, if a vampire bites a zombie, does that zombie became a vampire? Or a vampire-zombie? And would they eat brains or blood?” Sehun says, mocking Chanyeol’s previous thoughts from the day before.
“Those are genuine questions,” Chanyeol argues, “and no one even answered me!”
“You’re an idiot,” Baekhyun says, reaching up to flick him on the forehead. “Maybe we should release your latest exam results and save all these girls from falling for your-“ he raises two fingers to make quotations in the air, “-charm.”
Chanyeol grins and raises an eyebrow, “so you admit I have charm?”
“I also think you need to retake your IQ test, but you wouldn’t want me advertising that, would you?”
Sehun laughs.
→
Chanyeol is no stranger to confessions; he’s received the occasional letter here and there, and sometimes a girl will profess her feelings in person. It makes it that much harder, but Chanyeol still says no, giving some excuse of not having enough time, or that dating just isn’t an option at the moment, due to school or track and field.
The flow of confessions started after he hit his growth spurt that shot him clear past six feet, and he lost the baby fat he had been carrying through middle school. It was around the same time that he joined track and field, and the athletics helped fill his torso out.
Even with the size of their school, Chanyeol is hard to miss. It’s his height and voice really.
And ever since three weeks ago, his red hair.
Like, fire truck red, if Chanyeol had to analogize it. He hadn’t realized just how bright it was until he woke up the next day with red-stained pillows. Obviously mixing drinks with truth or dare that night hadn’t swung his way, considering the worst thing Wufan had to do was eat uncooked instant ramen, and Chanyeol came out of it with an aching hangover and hair the colour of a tomato.
He hadn’t bothered to dye it back, shrugging the colour change off because he surprisingly pulled it off. Much to his parents’ chagrin, of course.
It’s weeks later now and though the colour has faded, it’s still giving him more attention than normal.
Like for instance, in the form of a bathroom note.
Normally he sees phone numbers scrawled across the wall, or jokes when someone obviously got bored spending too much time in the stalls. But there are nine words written in the space between the sinks, fitting perfectly within one tile, and Chanyeol can’t stop staring at them. The handwriting is slanted and strange, written with capital letters interspersed throughout the lowercase.
Letters passed to him in class-or stuffed through the slits of his locker-he’s had experience with. But never a confession scribbled on a wall.
I love your red hair,
And I love you
→
“How do you know it’s not about someone else?” Jongdae asks, and Chanyeol doesn’t even bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t even lift his head up off the table, but simply raises a hand to point at the obvious mop of redness sitting atop his head, and he hears Jongdae softly say, “oh, right.”
“So that’s the fourth one,” Sehun grins, “sixth I think, since the start of term.”
Chanyeol sighs and sits up. “Can you not keep track of my admirers? It’s getting weird.”
“I think it’s weird you called them your admirers but alright there, Ronald McDonald.” Sehun mocks, ruffling Chanyeol’s hair.
“I thought we stopped with the clown jokes.”
“I don’t think we ever agreed to that,” Jongdae grins. “I was thinking of getting you a matching nose for Christmas to complete the look,” he leans over and pretends to squish an imaginary sponge sitting at the end of Chanyeol’s nose.
“I’m leaving all of you,” Chanyeol deadpans. He stands up and grabs his lunch tray to make a dramatic exit, only to be hindered by the laughter of his friends when he stumbles over his chair leg and nearly falls on his ass.
“You know, Clown Academy is still accepting applications,” Wufan says between chuckles, and Chanyeol flips them off.
→
Chanyeol is falling asleep when something small hits the side of his face and he startles awake, very aware that he was seconds away from drooling in public. The back of his neck grows hot with embarrassment when he hears Baekhyun snicker from across the table, and he looks up to see him with a reserve of wadded-up paper balls next to him. Baekhyun slyly grins and gives him a thumbs-up.
Chanyeol smiles, and leans his head to the side to stretch out his neck. It’s only six pm but spending the day at the public library drains him, even if he’s with Baekhyun.
To be honest, the only reason he’s actually at the library is because of Baekhyun.
With midterms are coming up, Jongdae had suggested a study group, only to bail because Final Fantasy XV just came out and logging hours on his Xbox trumped studying for biology. Chanyeol had wholeheartedly agreed, but that C on his past test wasn’t doing him any favours. Wufan and Sehun had joined them for the majority of the day, leaving when it got dark around four o’clock.
It’s nearly half an hour later when Chanyeol puts his pen down and yawns. “Can we leave now?” He half-whispers, despite knowing the answer before Baekhyun even shakes his head no.
He holds up his hands, signalling for ten more minutes, and Chanyeol slumps back in the chair, pulling his hood up over his head to block out the harsh fluorescents. He’s about to doze off again when he hears something fall onto his book, and he opens his eyes to see a red origami heart sitting in the middle of the open pages.
He scans the aisles left and right to find their area empty. Picking it up and examining the art, Chanyeol unfolds the origami to see a handwritten message, and he realizes it’s another confession. His cheeks warm up, because getting a letter is already discomforting, but with Baekhyun sitting across from him, Chanyeol can’t help but flush red.
Before he can finish reading, he hears Baekhyun start to pack up, and he glances up.
“Thought you wanted ten more minutes?”
“Changed my mind. Let’s go.” His tone is somewhat curt, but Chanyeol doesn’t question it and he slips the paper heart in between the pages of his book before shoving everything into his bag to follow Baekhyun out of the library.
→
Track and field is cancelled on Thursday, and Chanyeol slips into swim practice, choosing to sit on the bleachers and watch rather than go home early. He doesn’t get to do this much, considering he’s always got his own practice to go to.
Baekhyun is in his seventh lap, alternating between the four strokes with each lap. He disappears under the water to tumble turn, pushing off the side as he shoots through the water. Sehun is in the lane next to him, working on his butterfly.
It’s almost mesmerising to watch Baekhyun swim. His muscles flex with each stroke and Chanyeol can see just how distinguished he’s become over the years. His shoulders are much more broad now, tapering down to a narrower waist with defined abs. It’s only when his mouth is dry does Chanyeol realize he’s watching Baekhyun too closely, and he immediately shoves his hands into his sweater pocket to play with the threads.
Chanyeol has known Baekhyun since middle school, when they were put in pairs to research a marine animal, and both of them said ‘whale shark’ at the same time. Baekhyun had been the new kid, and Chanyeol was a friendly face he could laugh with.
Their friendship came easy, with no awkward pauses or forceful prompts to get the other to talk. Chanyeol had introduced him to Wufan, Jongdae and Sehun that day, and the five of them graduated to the same high school years later.
He wasn’t sure when it was that he fell for him. Chanyeol supposes it wasn’t an exact day, but a gradual crush that built up with every laugh and smile Baekhyun threw his way. It probably was in every joke Baekhyun told, or moment they said something simultaneously, that Chanyeol lit up with growing affection. And it definitely was in every swim meet Chanyeol attended where he saw Baekhyun’s determination for his sport, with a concentrated gaze as he dove into the pool, and noticed just how passionate Baekhyun could be.
A buzzer sounds and Chanyeol watches as Sehun and Baekhyun finish their last lap, Baekhyun touching the side first before fist pumping and splashing water Sehun’s way. Chanyeol tries to hold back a laugh, holding his arm up to muffle his sounds, but Sehun is looking so frustrated compared to Baekhyun who’s practically dancing. They both lift themselves out of the pool, and Sehun gives Baekhyun a reluctant high-five for his victory before his eyes meet Chanyeol’s and he gives a wave.
“Hey!” Sehun shouts, grabbing his towel off their bench as he slips into flip-flops and half-jogs to Chanyeol. Chanyeol sees Baekhyun spin around; his eyes wide in surprise, before he’s grinning and following suit.
“What are you doing here?” Sehun asks, plopping himself next to Chanyeol as he towels his hair.
“Practice got cancelled,” Chanyeol shrugs, trying to play off how rare it is that he comes to see them swim.
Baekhyun sits on the row below, his towel a light green colour. It’s draped over his shoulders, and Chanyeol’s wondering just how cold it is for them.
Sehun frowns. “Why didn’t you go home?” And Chanyeol mentally curses his friend. He glances up at glass roof, trying to avoid eye contact with Baekhyun otherwise he knows he’ll definitely turn red again, and he’s been trying to limit the amount of times that happens.
“Uh, thought I’d just watch you guys a bit.”
Great. That didn’t sound creepy at all. “Anyways,” Chanyeol coughs, “I should head home now.”
“No, stay!” Baekhyun says, smiling wide, “we’re doing sprints next and you know Sehun just loves to lose.”
Chanyeol isn’t really listening when Sehun splutters in response, because Baekhyun is laughing, and he can’t help but join in along with him.
“Okay, just for a bit,” Chanyeol agrees.
→
He waits for Baekhyun to finish changing, leaning against the wall outside the locker room. He’s about to pull up Flappy Bird again but then the door opens and Baekhyun walks out, his hair still mildly wet.
“You’re still here?” Baekhyun asks when he sees him, a slight tone of surprise in his question. “Even Sehun left already.”
“Don’t we always walk home together after practice?” Chanyeol answers with a grin. “Hey, what’s up with your shoulder?” He frowns, watching as Baekhyun rolls his shoulder back and forth.
“I think I worked it too hard today,” Baekhyun says, a slight grimace on his face. “Probably during the sprints. Should be oka-hey, hey what are you doing?”
Baekhyun pauses mid-sentence as Chanyeol grabs his bag off him. “I’m carrying it for you,” he shrugs, and Baekhyun rolls his eyes.
“Thanks mom, but I don’t need you to do that.”
“Baek, stop being so proud and let me,” Chanyeol reasons as he slings the strap across his body. He’s already halfway down the hall when he hears Baekhyun say a quiet, “thanks,” from behind and he turns to give him a smile.
“Now let’s go. You’re going to get pneumonia with that wet head of yours. And then I’ll have to be at your deathbed to say I told you so.”
Baekhyun shakes his head with a smirk, and hastens his pace to catch up.
→
“Come on, Baek, they’re right behind you!” Chanyeol shouts, smashing buttons on his controller as Widowmaker flies across the screen on her grappling hook. Chanyeol hears Baekhyun mutter, “shit!” before Tracer is spinning around and throwing her pulse bomb at the red heroes.
“Ah shit, they killed me,” Baekhyun sighs, and Chanyeol adjusts his headphones before Widowmaker runs out of her hiding spot and towards a red player.
“Ugh respawning is taking forever,” Baekhyun complains as he impatiently mauls his controller’s buttons. Chanyeol’s eyes flicker to their Skype call on the left screen, chuckling at the sight of a frustrated Baekhyun.
“Fuck it, I’m going to switch to Pharah,” Baekhyun mutters. “Why did I try playing Tracer. Byun Baekhyun,” he starts to lecture himself, “always stick with Pharah!”
In the midst of the game, Chanyeol can’t help but smile, and the words have left his lips before he can even register what he’s saying.
“You’re so cute, Baekhyun.”
Shit.
“Wait, what did you say?” Baekhyun distractedly asks, his own gaze moving to their video chat with a puzzled expression.
“Uh, nothing,” Chanyeol scrambles for a lie, “my mom’s calling me, I gotta go!” And he flicks his Internet off before Baekhyun can open his mouth.
→
If Baekhyun was upset at Chanyeol bailing during their game, he doesn’t mention it. In fact, he acts completely normal, and Chanyeol breathes out a deep sigh of relief that Baekhyun hadn’t heard him.
→
It’s in the middle of a jump when Chanyeol hears it, and he tumbles over, his hands automatically reaching for his ankle. The hurdle is loud when it falls to the ground, but Chanyeol’s already blinking back tears, because holy fuck does this hurt.
“Shit, what happened?” Wufan comes running over, ice pack already in hand as he whistles to their coach.
“Pushed off wrong,” Chanyeol grits out, pressing the pack to his ankle to help soothe the pain. It only makes it worse, but he knows it’s better than to wait it out. “Got caught on the hurdle.”
“Fuck, you need to go to the hospital,” Wufan says, and he leans down to help Chanyeol up. “Can you stand okay?” He asks, and Chanyeol nods. With Wufan’s help he hops to the side, exiting the gym through the double doors. Their coach pulls his car up curb-side, after dismissing everyone saying practice is ending early.
Chanyeol feels like crumbling to the ground, because he’s never been in this much pain, not even when fifteen year-old Baekhyun was showing him a hapkido kick on him and accidentally got too close.
They pass the pool, and Chanyeol steals a glance to his left. Despite the pain, he lets a smile slip on his face when he sees Baekhyun surface during his front crawl.
→
“What the hell, you idiot!” Is the first thing Baekhyun says when he enters his room.
“Um, what?” Chanyeol frowns. He’s lying in bed, his left foot elevated on top of some pillows with gel smeared all over it. He’s still in his track clothes, because he refused to wear the hospital garments when they admitted him.
“Don’t be so stupid!” Baekhyun reprimands, grabbing the closest soft thing to him (Chanyeol’s hoodie on the chair) as he whacks him with it.
“Hey, hey! I’m in pain here!” Chanyeol holds an arm up as a makeshift barrier from Baekhyun’s attacks. He throws a defenseless look Wufan and Jongdae’s way, but the pair just blink at him before returning to their conversation of Final Fantasy.
“Okay, I think he’s been punished enough.” Sehun steps in from behind after a few more whacks, placing a hand on Baekhyun’s arm to stop any more assaults from him. “He’s already got his fucked up ankle for that.” He grabs the hoodie, throwing it back on the chair as he goes to sit next to Jongdae.
“Why are you hurting me?” Chanyeol asks, his face plastered with confusion.
Baekhyun heaves out a deep sigh. “Be more careful!” He plops himself into the chair nearest to the bed. “It’s a good thing it’s only your tendon, and that you didn’t break bone,” he chastises, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes.
“What are your parents going to say?” Baekhyun clucks his tongue.
“And here I thought I was your mom,” Chanyeol teases, the grin slipping off his face when Baekhyun shoots him a glare. “Okay, no jokes. Besides, we won’t know until they get here in an hour.”
At this, Baekhyun grins, “great, that means I have sixty minutes to scold you.”
Chanyeol groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Isn’t the visiting time period over soon?”
“You wish,” Jongdae snorts. “We can stay here until seven.”
→
They leave around six thirty, not that Chanyeol is complaining. He kind of wished they all left earlier, and that he didn’t have to remain here overnight, but beggars can’t be choosers. Baekhyun is still here of course, voicing his wish to stay until he’s kicked out.
His parents come by, his mother basically mimicking Baekhyun minus the physical abuse, and his father shrugging it off as a minor injury, thankful it wasn’t more serious. They leave the room around the same time, going to find some food for the three of them because hospital dinner that night doesn’t sound appealing at all.
“Can you leave,” Chanyeol deadpans, when Baekhyun is in the middle of counting all the horrible things that could have happened instead of a torn tendon.
“You could have broken your talus, or tendinosis still could technically happen if you’re not careful,” he’s ignoring Chanyeol and scrolling through some WebMD page, as if he’s his doctor.
“I’m going to get a restraining order,” Chanyeol mutters, trying to turn his back to him as much as he can with his leg bandaged up.
“Chanyeol, I’m serious.”
With this, Chanyeol glances up, eyes falling on the sight of a very solemn Baekhyun.
“You know, years ago, I was basically in your position,” Baekhyun comes to sit at his bedside, and Chanyeol nods.
“Yeah, you fucked up your shoulder,” he says quietly.
“The pain wasn’t even the worst part,” Baekhyun says, “it was thinking that I would never be able to swim again,” he’s distracted, drawing patterns in Chanyeol’s bedsheet with his finger. His hair isn’t fully dry, Sehun and him having come straight from practice, and with his eyes all sad he looks like a wet puppy.
“I just don’t,” Baekhyun pauses, taking in a deep breath, “I don’t want you to go through that too, Chanyeol.” His eyes flicker up and for a moment their gazes hold, eyes unwavering. Baekhyun stands up, leaning in towards Chanyeol, and for a second, he thinks he’s about to kiss him.
But then he feels a sharp on his forehead and he instinctively reaches up to massage the spot, “Ow!”
“So don’t be an idiot.” Baekhyun gives a sly smile, “or I’ll flick you harder next time.”
→
Chanyeol’s back at home the next afternoon, skipping school in favour for Overwatch and junk food. He’s living in the front room, because going up and down the stairs on crutches is wildly unnecessary when he can just camp out in front of the TV with his PS4 and laptop.
He’s in the middle of watching Episode VII of Star Wars when he hears the front door open and he yells out a half-hearted greeting to his mother. She drops something in his lap, and he reluctantly pauses the movie.
“What’s this?” He frowns, turning the envelope over in his hands. His name is printed on the front, in strange writing.
She shrugs, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge as she comes to join him on the couch. “It was on the door step.”
His mother grabs the remote from him to continue the movie, and Chanyeol’s too absorbed to bother pausing it again. The envelope is unsealed and he slides the card out, immediately laughing at the front.
It’s a cheesy store-bought card, the words printed on the front saying: I hope you feel better soon, so when you come back I can make you feel immediately shit again.
He knows it’s from Baekhyun before he even opens it. It’s such a typical Baekhyun type of thing to do.
The message reads: get better, don’t eat too much chocolate! You’re going to need to train even harder for spring season, considering you fucked up your foot. followed by a smiley face.
Opening up Snapchat, he takes a selfie with the card and sends it to Baekhyun, the caption reading fuck you (: with the snap showing a picture of Chanyeol with a mouthful of M&Ms.
→
When Chanyeol finally returns to school it’s a few days later. He’s not that used to the crutches yet, and his hands are starting to get sore from gripping the handles too tight. It makes it worse when he looks at how red his palms are.
He’s balancing on one foot at the urinal, and Jongdae is playing with his crutches as they wait. Baekhyun’s got his bag slung across his shoulder (“Now it’s my turn.”).
“Give me those back,” Chanyeol motions for Jongdae as he zips up his pants, and the latter grins.
“The sinks are right behind you, you can hop.”
“Asshole,” Chanyeol mutters, and Jongdae doesn’t deny it.
“Besides, you shouldn’t touch your crutches until you’ve washed your hands. Haven’t you heard of bacteria?” He makes another circle around the bathroom, swinging on the crutches as Chanyeol clumsily hops to the sinks.
It’s when he reaches up to turn off the tap that he sees it, that note from all those weeks ago. He’s about to turn away, when an image of Baekhyun’s card flickers in his mind, and he blinks wide, staring at the confession scrawled on the bathroom tile.
“What’s up?” Baekhyun frowns, noticing Chanyeol’s shift in demeanour, and he glances up at him.
“Um, nothing,” he mumbles. He half-wrestles his crutches from Jongdae, who’s having too much fun playing with them, and fits the cushion pads under his armpits. He doesn’t-can’t-mention it in front of Jongdae. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late for class.”
“Only because you move slower than a turtle.” Jongdae quips.
“Hey, do you want to give these a try?” Chanyeol challenges, and he gladly hands them back as he hops out of the bathroom. “In fact, I bet you to go one whole day walking on these without complaint.”
Jongdae pfts. “Easy stuff. Make a note in your calendar, Chanyeol. I’ll be taking ten bucks from you tomorrow at two pm.”
“Likely story,” Chanyeol scoffs, stumbling down the hall as he half-limps, half-leaps down the hall. “And it’s going to be twenty bucks you’ll be giving me.”
They’re too busy arguing that Chanyeol misses it when Baekhyun’s gaze lingers a little too long on the message on the wall, before he lets the bathroom door swing shut and he jogs to catch up with them.
→
When Chanyeol gets home he runs (well, runs is a bit of an overstatement, more like he hobbles) over to his makeshift bed on the couch, rummaging through the blankets and mess he’s accumulated over the past four days. It takes a while and he thumbs through his schoolbooks before the card falls out from between his notebook, and he snatches it up as he tosses the book over his shoulder.
He knew it looked familiar. He’s quite disappointed in himself, mentally berating himself that he didn’t realize it before, considering their six-year friendship. But things change over time.
Things like handwriting.
He knows it’s the same. Staring at Baekhyun’s card, he knows he’s the one who wrote that message, and a mixture of emotions flutter inside him.
Before he can rethink this (and before he loses the courage to do so), he fumbles for his phone from his bag and dials a number. It rings twice before the other line picks up, and Chanyeol takes a deep breath,
“Hey Baek, you free tonight?”
→
Waiting for Baekhyun is completely nerve-wracking. Chanyeol’s got his hands in his pockets as always, trying to balance on his crutches as best as he can.
He’s half-thinking this was a bad idea, and they should just go to a movie or something, but when the realisation hit him all he wanted to do was run to Baekhyun and scream that he knows.
But of course, he can’t run, and there are obviously much better, subtler ways of conveying his knowledge about the subject than yelling it.
Chanyeol can’t keep still, rocking back on his one good foot as he taps the side of his crutch. He’s early, so it’s not Baekhyun’s fault he’s waiting. They’re meeting outside the ice cream shop close to school, as it’s walking (read: hobbling) distance from Chanyeol’s, because he’s not in any condition to drive.
Baekhyun arrives a few minutes later, and Chanyeol’s quite thankful he had the time to mentally prepare for this.
“Hey, what’s up?” Baekhyun asks, eyes bright as he walks up to him.
“Um, do you want to get some ice cream?”
→
Baekhyun hops up on the ledge, spooning out a small scoop into his mouth.
Chanyeol settled for a chocolate cone, hoping the sugar would give him more assurance than he currently possessed. In reality, he finished it in a few minutes, nerves causing him to wolf it down over savouring the taste.
They were walking through the park when Baekhyun decided he wanted to sit for a bit (thankfully, because Chanyeol’s foot was kind of killing him).
Chanyeol leans his crutches against the wall, and hoists himself up onto the ledge to join Baekhyun with less difficulty than he suspected. They’re both quiet, people-watching as a man with his terrier walk through the grass. The dog stops and sniffs the air, then all of sudden pounces towards a tree, chasing a squirrel as it runs up the trunk and disappears into the leaves.
He supposes now is a better time than any, and it sort of slips out in a much less confident tone than he was hoping to sound.
“So, you know I got your message the other day.”
“What?” Baekhyun’s brows knit together. He’s got his spoon in his mouth as he quizzically looks at Chanyeol for further explanation.
“I think it was you anyways,” Chanyeol continues, “I saw it in the bathroom one day.” He doesn’t even need to turn his head to know Baekhyun’s gaze has dropped, and he smirks. “It said something about my red hair, written on a tile in the second floor bathroom?” Chanyeol bends down to sneak a look at Baekhyun’s face. He’s already blushing, trying to hide the colour in his cheeks by burying his face into his scarf. Chanyeol’s heart thumps.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Baekhyun stammers, pulling his scarf up to cover his nose. He’s got a hand twisted in the ends of it, playing with the threads as he avoids eye contact with Chanyeol.
“I know a lot of things about you Baekhyun,” Chanyeol starts. He carefully lowers himself off the ledge, stumbling to turn and face Baekhyun on his right foot, “like I know your favourite flavour of ice cream is honeycomb-caramel if that isn’t available, which it hardly ever is-and that you cried when we went to see Moana.“ he pauses, counting off the things on his fingers, “I know you love playing piano almost as much as swimming, and that you almost tore your rotator cuff during freshman year. I also know you fidget when you’re lying, just how I do when I’m poolside watching one of your relays.” Chanyeol takes a clumsy step closer towards him, placing his hand over Baekhyun’s own.
With Baekhyun still sitting on the ledge, they’re almost at eye level with each other; he’s slightly taller than Chanyeol, and he gazes down at him, their eyes unwavering and locked.
“And the last thing I know,” Chanyeol whispers, mustering all the confidence he possibly can in a single moment, “is that I probably love you as much as you love me.”
There’s no turning back now, and he leans in, the last thing he sees before closing his eyes is Baekhyun’s own fluttering shut.
Then they’re kissing. It’s soft and careful, and Chanyeol begins to concentrate more on where to put his hands rather than on the actual kiss, because he really, really doesn’t want to screw this up. But then Baekhyun’s hands move to rest at the back of his neck, tugging him forward ever so slightly, and Chanyeol melts.
Thoughts flash in his mind, such as oh my god! and I can’t believe I’m kissing Baekhyun!
Baekhyun starts to kiss him harder, and Chanyeol gladly reciprocates. He moves his mouth against Baekhyun’s with more intensity, opening up slightly to run his tongue along Baekhyun’s bottom lip. It’s when he hears Baekhyun softly moan that he pulls him in closer and feels legs wrap around his waist.
They pull away minutes later, Baekhyun breathing heavily with his hands still around Chanyeol’s neck.
“So, you think my red hair is sexy, huh?” Chanyeol asks, pupils dilated and breath rushed.
“Shut up.”
“Why don’t you make me?” Chanyeol challenges, a cocky eyebrow raised. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, and Chanyeol says, “You know, I think I’m going to need an actual confession though.”
“Um, what?” Baekhyun looks at him ludicrously, about to snort.
“You know, it would be great for you to actually confess to me. Feels more real, don’t you think?” Chanyeol grins smugly. “Just say Chanyeol, will you go out with me?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“An idiot that is going to walk away.”
“Ugh, okay, fine! Chanyeol, will you go out with me?” Baekhyun asks, his tone robotic.
Chanyeol smiles, for real this time, and leans in once more, “No, sorry, maybe next time.”
Baekhyun flicks his head, “Chanyeol!”
“Joking,” Chanyeol holds his hands up in fake surrender, before clasping Baekhyun’s in his. “Of course, Baekhyun, I will go out with you.”
→
“Hey, did you do that?” Jongdae asks, stealing the juice box off of Chanyeol’s lunch tray as he seats himself next to Sehun.
“Do what?” Chanyeol asks, attempting to swipe for the drink when Jongdae holds it out of his reach.
“Write that thing in the bathroom, you know, under Baekhyun’s note.” He stabs the straw through the top, slurping the stolen apple juice with a guilt-free conscience.
Baekhyun glances up, his attention diverted from his own lunch, “What? What happened?” He sits up straighter, throwing a puzzled look Chanyeol’s way.
Chanyeol just shrugs in response, taking a bite of his sandwich to occupy his mouth.
Jongdae grins. “Go check out the bathroom.”
“What’s he talking about?” Baekhyun asks, giving Chanyeol a pointed look in hopes of demanding an answer.
“Honestly,” Chanyeol feigns ignorance, “I have no idea what he’s talking about.” He leans over and plants a kiss on Baekhyun’s lips.
“Ugh, Baekhyun just go check it out,” Wufan says, rolling his eyes without looking up from his book. “Unless you want to get mauled by Chanyeol and his mouth for the nth time today.”
Baekhyun snorts, leaving the cafeteria in curiosity after flipping Wufan off.
Chanyeol knows exactly what Baekhyun’s reaction will be, when he sees the message written under his own, and he grins to himself.
It’s Chanyeol’s first own confession, and despite being only five words, he thinks it sums up his feelings for Baekhyun perfectly.
It’s really all he needs to say to be honest.
I love your red hair,
And I love you
and I love you back.