baekyeol; you slow down, then you speed up
Title: you slow down, then you speed up
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Disclaimer: EXO members and/or former members do not belong to me
Notes: side installment to this other story. it still probably makes sense even without having read the main fic... i have a lot of baekyeol snippets and missing moments that i couldn't fit in the main plot and i'll slowly post them all, starting with this one. for abcdefghiluvyou's bday!!! ilu sweet ;3;
Summary: how Chanyeol, son of the Steward and future ruler of the White Tower, and Baekhyun, last Starlord alive and rightful heir to the throne of the White Tower, fell in love at the end of the Dark Days.
i. Chanyeol is the only son of the Steward, heir of the kingdom, the future ruler of the White Tower, but the boy he meets at the Starry Ball is no Cinderella.
Chanyeol has never seen the boy who sticks to young Lord Oh’s side before, and that’s impossible, because only Nobleborns have access to the Upper Levels and there aren’t that many of them. Being the son of the Ruling Steward, Chanyeol knows all the Noble Households of the White Tower and their heirs, but he’s never seen a couple of eyes this bright.
He knows he shouldn’t do this. Jongdae is still in the palace, after all, and Chanyeol should be keeping track of Lord and Lady Oh’s movements. He can’t let them catch his best friend red-handed while he rummages through their private mail.
Except Chanyeol’s eyes couldn’t be farther away from the hosts of the Ball. He looks at the boy, picking a sweet and slowly savoring it in his mouth, smiling at the young Oh heir with a blissful face when the taste explodes on his tongue.
He barely manages to wait for Jongdae to disappear on the crowd with a signal that unquestionably means that the mission has been accomplished before he literally pounces on the couple of young boys at the refreshments table. Getting rid of Sehun doesn’t take much effort, the kid seems quite distracted by something he’s seen in the midst of the crowd. It takes Chanyeol a moment to drag the other boy, Baekhyun, away, walking him towards Lord Oh’s planetarium where he's sure they won't be disturbed.
Baekhyun has clearly never seen a planetarium like this one before and his eyes light up when he sees light swirling around him.
He extends his hand up to touch a star, Persephone, from the constellation of Cerberus, but his pretty fingers close around nothing.
“It’s beautiful,” explains Chanyeol, at his surprised pout, “but it’s only an illusion.”
He traps Baekhyun’s hands in his own, leading it until it passes through the light of Artemisia and he swirls the other boy’s until he’s resting against his chest, following the faint music that leaks through the closed door from the ballroom.
He has to keep Baekhyun steady when he risks to trip on Chanyeol’s feet, moving on the wrong direction.
“Sorry,” Baekhyun mutters, while a thin veil of pink colors his cheekbones, “I’ve never danced.”
According to Sehun’s words, he’s not a Noble. It’s quite illegal to introduce commoners into the Upper Levels, but it’s not uncommon for Nobles to sneak inside a whore or two. That’s what Chanyeol thought, at the beginning, but the indignant snarl Baekhyun answered him with was enough to delete traces of that possibility from his mind. Besides, cute or not, Baekhyun doesn’t possess the graceful confidence, the alluring stroll, nor the charming smiles of the courtesans of the Veiled Venus and when Chanyeol’s hand strokes his face, it smudges the clear foundation revealing a dusting of freckles dotting his skin, definitely different from the porcelain skin he's used to see in those girls and boys.
Baekhyun is far from the definition of beauty of the Upper Levels, but he has bright eyes that lure Chanyeol in and the loveliest mouth, and his body is lean and strong and Chanyeol has never been too picky with his lovers so he decides he likes this strange boy whom Sehun has brought to the ball.
The light of the planetarium stars falls on Baekhyun’s face and his long lashes cast shadow on the powdered smoothness of his cheeks when Chanyeol backs him against the wall, pinning him down with his leg and caging him in with his body. Baekhyun looks up at him, expectantly, doesn’t even try to fight Chanyeol’s hold. He discloses the secret of his lips, showing the tiniest sign of a smirk when Chanyeol licks his own in response. He looks ready to laugh at Chanyeol’s evident desire to kiss him. Chanyeol’s mouth attacks him before he can do it.
It’s a good kiss, so different from what Chanyeol was expecting. Baekhyun has been hesitant in the ball room, and then silent with him, almost shy. Chanyeol kisses him with impatience, ready to pry those lips open with force and passion, if he has to, but Baekhyun surprisingly bites his tongue enough to draw blood, making Chanyeol gasp in surprise and a little pain, and then sucks on it, gentle, unhurried, so good. Baekhyun’s lips are chapped but warm, his hand coarse against Chanyeol’s skin but firm. He leads the kiss, slowing down when Chanyeol is barely able to cope with him, tilting his head on the left and pulling Chanyeol’s hair when he doesn’t follow him.
Chanyeol is struggling to breathe when Baekhyun finally lets him resurface for air.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” he asks, definitely ashamed of the way his voice just sounded, breathless, rough, ravaged.
“Oh,” Baekhyun squirms between him and the wall, playing with the hair at the base of Chanyeol’s neck and making him shudder, “lots of people, lot of training. You Nobles don’t get that many chances to shag, do you?”
Chanyeol scoffs and this time, when Baekhyun closes the distance between them, he’s ready to fight back. It’s not that he lacks skill, being the son of the Steward he never had to beg for the attention of girls and boys and he’s really practiced a lot, despite Baekhyun’s insulting insinuation. Chanyeol is very good at kissing, it’s just that Baekhyun is better than him. More experienced, more relaxed, more composed. Where Chanyeol lets fire lick at his lips and cloud his eyes, Baekhyun allow Chanyeol’s passion to wash over him but doesn’t let himself get carried away by the backwash.
Chanyeol finds himself leaning on Baekhyun, in the unconscious attempt to overpower him with the physical advantage, but Baekhyun just smirks in the kiss and drags him closer, his arms wrapped around Chanyeol’s chest.
Chanyeol ruts against him in retaliation, enjoying the sweet payback when Baekhyun gasps in his mouth, hot and loud, followed by the filthiest curse he’s ever heard. The words, unspeakably dirty, draw a path of liquid flame from his chest to his belly and his common sense snaps. He doesn’t think when his hand slips down Baekhyun’s shoulder to his stomach, hips, reaching the hem of the pants. He undoes the first button, more than determined to solve the mystery of this boy who acts like a blushing virgin, kisses like an expert harlot and swears like a Low City rogue.
He also slaps like one.
The sting that Baekhyun’s hand leaves in its wake startles Chanyeol. Never, in his life, someone has dared to raise their hand on him. He’s the future Steward, he will one day rule the White Tower. Baekhyun doesn’t seem impressed. He takes Chanyeol’s hand, still snugly stuck inside his pants, and puts it back on his hip. When Chanyeol dares to protest he looks at him sheepishly and says, “We can keep kissing if you want, that was nice, but the next time you touch my dick without asking me if it’s alright first, I’ll make sure you lose a few teeth. Are we clear?”
Chanyeol nods, almost stupidly. His cheek burns like hell. He brings a hand to up, trying to cool it down. Baekhyun looks at him, almost hesitantly, almost like he didn’t just slapped Chanyeol, and quite hard, Chanyeol dares to say.
“Maybe we should find my friend, I promised him I wouldn’t be out of his sight for too long.”
Chanyeol nods, again, still dazed. When Baekhyun moves towards the door, Chanyeol’s body follows through, his arm finding Baekhyun’s shoulder like a magnet.
“Come on,” Chanyeol says, “this way.”
He doesn’t need to look at his reflection in the colored mirrors hanging from the walls to confirm that Baekhyun’s hand is indeed printed on his cheek, a violent red mark that will tell everyone what happened, how he was refused. Baekhyun looks torn between feeling guilty, sympathetic and downright smug. Chanyeol could get him arrested for the mere thought of raising his hand on a Noble, even more then son of the Steward. The only thing he wants, though, is to drag him in the planetarium and kiss him again. And sneak his hands on Baekhyun’s pants, this time after having asked for permission.
Sehun appears too soon, nervous and out of breath. He takes Baekhyun with him when he leaves the house, and Chanyeol steals a last, long look at the boy who struck him tonight, wondering if he’ll ever see him again, deciding that he’ll do anything in his power to see him again.
ii. Just two boys, hiding at the back of Kris' Emporium, learning to trust each other now that their world has turned dark and shattered.
The back of Kris’ shop smells like Zitao’s hands, like the residual powders stuck under his fingers. Vibrant saffron, the sour and thin scent of almonds that announces the presence of cyanide, the impalpable smell of cotton and the searing hot warmth of dragon blood thrown together in a cauldron of smells and heat. It’s a familiar scent, that makes Baekhyun immediately think of Zitao’s bark-like laugh, and at the same time it’s foreign and exotic, confusing in its impossibility to be easily identified. It fills Baekhyun’s nostrils, fogging his brain, clouding his lungs until he can’t breathe, until the only instinct left is to run and hide.
Except there’s nowhere else to hide, no safe haven for Byun Baekhyun, son of the last Starking.
Ironically, gaining this new status has also made him lose everything else. Before, he was a prince of the tower, a leader in that miniature universe of little alleys and big roads carved from white stones, of wells and houses built too quickly and too close, of porches that offered young, wild kids like Baekhyun the perfect hunting field and tight corners that made the best hiding spots. Baekhyun was a son of the Temple as much as he was a son of the White Tower, fostered by its long, chipped set of stairs and its ghosts.
He was a son of nobody once, but not anymore. Now he knows his name, he knows his lineage, his destiny and his curse. Now he’s afraid. The Temple is gone, according to what Yixing said. The Black Masks have taken it, violating every room, every tile, every stone, desecrating the holy halls of the stars. The Temple is gone and the same White Tower that has lulled him to sleep for his whole life has turned dark and menacing, ready to swallow him whole, to make him share the same destiny of the parents and brother he never knew.
It’s like the events of the last few days have made Baekhyun an orphan, again, taking him even that last shred of family he had managed to build for himself. Junmyeon, Minseok, the other boys of the Temple. They’re gone. Sehun is still asleep, trapped in his own dream after he fell to save everyone else. He’s lucky he’s still alive, but he won’t wake up. It’s not been more than thirty hours, but Baekhyun feels like he’s been coped up in this house for his entire life.
Light, at least, flickers around him, turning dark silhouettes of silent monsters into boxes and sacks of potion ingredients. Light won’t abandon Baekhyun. He can always trust his power to be there for him, to tear the veil of darkness and let him see the truth hidden beneath.
His light flickers, unsure, like a little star that’s going to burst and disappear in the sky, before going down to caress the gentle curve of Chanyeol’s cheek, and then up, flicking his nose, until it’s brushing against his long lashes. The boy grimaces, his eyelids trembling to shield his away from the disturbing glow of Baekhyun’s little sparkle of light. When he opens his eyes, they’re lost and unfocused, dark with sleep, but they immediately snap shut when the light buzzes closer, making his pupil shrink to the dimension of a pin head.
“What are you doing?” the boy mumbles, his voice reverberating against Baekhyun’s skin in the narrow room.
“Just wondering…” he replies, but he doesn’t say anything else. He simply watches the light slide on Chanyeol’s face, all big eyes and messy hair, the tiniest hint of drool at the left corner of his swollen pink lips. He looks like an angel like this, but he can’t trust him to be one. He’s the son of the Steward, the son of the man who killed his parents.
Something sparks in Chanyeol’s eyes, a lonely flash of lucidity, and his fingers close like a trap around Baekhyun’s wrist, too fast for him to jerk away from the touch - too fast for a man whose reflexes were supposed to be slowed down by sleep.
“What are you doing?” growls Baekhyun, trying to wiggle out of Chanyeol’s hold, but the boy doesn’t let go. He’s strong, Baekhyun realizes, physically stronger than Baekhyun. Even if he has easily beaten Chanyeol before, in the ancient sanctuary of the Temple, now, as they lie curled on the floor, too close for him to use his light against Chanyeol, the other boy has the physical advantage. He could easily pin Baekhyun to the floor and kill him, he realizes with growing panic, and his light shakes nervously, ready to counterattack, instinct finally kicking in.
That’s when Chanyeol tugs Baekhyun down, making the other boy fall on his chest.
“What are you doing?” repeats Baekhyun, as the strange sense of panic disappears from his chest, leaving place to disbelief and confusion.
“Sleep with me.” A little pause to rearrange his thoughts. “You haven’t slept since the night of the Festival of the Stars. You have to sleep, Baekhyun. You have to be awake and ready to run when they’ll come for you…”
“When your father will come for me.”
He wanted his voice to be sharp enough to cut Chanyeol’s heart, to make him bleed all over the floor, but he’s speaking against Chanyeol’s chest and the fabric of his shirt muffles the words making them come out weak. Nonetheless, Chanyeol tenses under him. Baekhyun is so close to his chest that he can clearly hear his heart beat furiously, like the drums of the savages of the desert.
“I won’t let him take you,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun believes him. Under his head, Chanyeol’s heart beats so fast it sounds like it’s going to explode soon if it doesn’t slow down. “I’ll stay awake and keep watch, so you can sleep now, Baekhyun. That guard of the Temple said that Sehun will wake up soon and then we’ll all have to leave as soon as possible. You must rest now.”
Baekhyun doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to stay awake and keep looking at Park Chanyeol’s face, wondering whether he can trust this boy or not, but Chanyeol’s body is warm and his chest heaves down with his breaths in a lulling, treacherous way. The only thing that’s still frantic is his heartbeat, but it’s becoming so difficult to keep himself anchored to that furious rhythm, especially now that Chanyeol’s hands are on Baekhyun’s back, drawing little circles on his hips and coaxing the tense muscles to relax until Baekhyun goes lax in Chanyeol’s arms.
“I can’t trust you,” Baekhyun murmurs, unconsciously nuzzling against Chanyeol’s neck and angling his head so that the fingers that have caressed his whole back can tangle themselves in his hair. “I really can’t.”
But he lets Chanyeol rearrange his body until he’s lying on top of the son of the man who wants him dead, unable to fight the cage of dreams closing upon him.
Baekhyun falls asleep, for the first time in the last three days, in Chanyeol’s arms. He never hears Chanyeol’s soft whisper of “I know,” nor does he feel the way his arms tighten around Baekhyun’s sleeping form like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him from drowning in a sea of darkness.
The following morning doesn’t bring forth any good news. Sehun is still a pale body lying on the only bed, Jongdae waiting like a ghost next to him. Baekhyun wants to stay there too, together with Jongdae, but at the same time the sight of Sehun’s lifeless face and Jongdae’s mad, desperate eyes disturb him. Baekhyun is not stupid. He knows Jongdae is the boy of Sehun’s dreams and being there with them feels strange, a bit too much like he’s intruding on them.
That’s why he finds himself sitting on the floor next to a too silent Chanyeol, who only stops staring in the distance with hollow, lost eyes when he sees Baekhyun. Their eyes meet for less than a heartbeat before Chanyeol looks away, almost as if he’s ashamed.
And Baekhyun wants to be cruel and manipulative. He wants to tug at Chanyeol’s weak points until the other boy is breaking. He wants to ask about Chanyeol’s father, wants to hear the boy admit that his father is a murderer, that his father is evil, that his father has always lied to him. He wants to see Chanyeol’s lips crack under the pressure of nervousness, his teeth worrying at them until they bleed. He wants to see Chanyeol’s eyes close, his eyelids heavy with guilt and shame, unable to bear the weight of his sins. He wants Chanyeol to feel as miserable as Baekhyun feels, but deep down he knows Chanyeol is probably feeling even more miserable than Baekhyun can imagine. He hurts and Chanyeol is hurting and Baekhyun doesn’t know how to turn this pain in something better, for both of them, so he leans his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder and he closes his eyes too.
Maybe, if they both don’t look at it, reality can stop existing and they can both come back to be Baekhyun and Chanyeol, two boys looking at the stars in a fake planetarium.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because he’s going crazy. This is what he tells himself, pushing the words against Chanyeol’s open lips at the same time he pushes the other boy against the wall.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because the other boy has forced him to sleep when Baekhyun couldn’t, with warm hands curled against his nape to keep Baekhyun in place and not let him squirm away. Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol for his courage, for all the questions Baekhyun himself wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to voice out loud. Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol for asking what his father is doing, even if the shame is enough to make him run to Kris’ spare room and sit on the floor, in the dark, trying to keep his breath under control, trying to come to terms with the fact that his father is a bad person - that his father is willing to order the murder of innocent people just because they’re in the way of his ambitions. Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol for that time he distracts Jongdae, forcing him to detach himself from Sehun’s side, and Baekhyun can finally enter the room and sits next to his friend, caressing his hair the way Sehun likes the most, the same way he would pet a kitten.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because the back of Kris’ shop smells like him already, like the sweat pooling down in the hollow of his throat at night, while he holds Baekhyun tight despite the suffocating heat of the little room; like smoke and blood and those expensive perfumes rich people from the Upper Levels like to bathe in, a fragrance that has yet to left Chanyeol even if he’s spent the last two days sleeping between barrels full of strange herbs and wyvern bones.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because he’s scared and afraid and Chanyeol is even more scared and more afraid than him, but Chanyeol forces his hand not to tremble as he intertwines his and Baekhyun’s fingers together and whispers sweet, thin lies against his neck when he thinks Baekhyun is already sleeping. don’t worry I’ll protect you I won’t let anything happen to you everything will be fine Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because, when he asks Chanyeol whether is doing this out of guilt and out of pity, Chanyeol simply stares at him, with an intensity that burns his skin and his soul, and then kisses him. Baekhyun kisses him back.
TBC...
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Disclaimer: EXO members and/or former members do not belong to me
Notes: side installment to this other story. it still probably makes sense even without having read the main fic... i have a lot of baekyeol snippets and missing moments that i couldn't fit in the main plot and i'll slowly post them all, starting with this one. for abcdefghiluvyou's bday!!! ilu sweet ;3;
Summary: how Chanyeol, son of the Steward and future ruler of the White Tower, and Baekhyun, last Starlord alive and rightful heir to the throne of the White Tower, fell in love at the end of the Dark Days.
i. Chanyeol is the only son of the Steward, heir of the kingdom, the future ruler of the White Tower, but the boy he meets at the Starry Ball is no Cinderella.
Chanyeol has never seen the boy who sticks to young Lord Oh’s side before, and that’s impossible, because only Nobleborns have access to the Upper Levels and there aren’t that many of them. Being the son of the Ruling Steward, Chanyeol knows all the Noble Households of the White Tower and their heirs, but he’s never seen a couple of eyes this bright.
He knows he shouldn’t do this. Jongdae is still in the palace, after all, and Chanyeol should be keeping track of Lord and Lady Oh’s movements. He can’t let them catch his best friend red-handed while he rummages through their private mail.
Except Chanyeol’s eyes couldn’t be farther away from the hosts of the Ball. He looks at the boy, picking a sweet and slowly savoring it in his mouth, smiling at the young Oh heir with a blissful face when the taste explodes on his tongue.
He barely manages to wait for Jongdae to disappear on the crowd with a signal that unquestionably means that the mission has been accomplished before he literally pounces on the couple of young boys at the refreshments table. Getting rid of Sehun doesn’t take much effort, the kid seems quite distracted by something he’s seen in the midst of the crowd. It takes Chanyeol a moment to drag the other boy, Baekhyun, away, walking him towards Lord Oh’s planetarium where he's sure they won't be disturbed.
Baekhyun has clearly never seen a planetarium like this one before and his eyes light up when he sees light swirling around him.
He extends his hand up to touch a star, Persephone, from the constellation of Cerberus, but his pretty fingers close around nothing.
“It’s beautiful,” explains Chanyeol, at his surprised pout, “but it’s only an illusion.”
He traps Baekhyun’s hands in his own, leading it until it passes through the light of Artemisia and he swirls the other boy’s until he’s resting against his chest, following the faint music that leaks through the closed door from the ballroom.
He has to keep Baekhyun steady when he risks to trip on Chanyeol’s feet, moving on the wrong direction.
“Sorry,” Baekhyun mutters, while a thin veil of pink colors his cheekbones, “I’ve never danced.”
According to Sehun’s words, he’s not a Noble. It’s quite illegal to introduce commoners into the Upper Levels, but it’s not uncommon for Nobles to sneak inside a whore or two. That’s what Chanyeol thought, at the beginning, but the indignant snarl Baekhyun answered him with was enough to delete traces of that possibility from his mind. Besides, cute or not, Baekhyun doesn’t possess the graceful confidence, the alluring stroll, nor the charming smiles of the courtesans of the Veiled Venus and when Chanyeol’s hand strokes his face, it smudges the clear foundation revealing a dusting of freckles dotting his skin, definitely different from the porcelain skin he's used to see in those girls and boys.
Baekhyun is far from the definition of beauty of the Upper Levels, but he has bright eyes that lure Chanyeol in and the loveliest mouth, and his body is lean and strong and Chanyeol has never been too picky with his lovers so he decides he likes this strange boy whom Sehun has brought to the ball.
The light of the planetarium stars falls on Baekhyun’s face and his long lashes cast shadow on the powdered smoothness of his cheeks when Chanyeol backs him against the wall, pinning him down with his leg and caging him in with his body. Baekhyun looks up at him, expectantly, doesn’t even try to fight Chanyeol’s hold. He discloses the secret of his lips, showing the tiniest sign of a smirk when Chanyeol licks his own in response. He looks ready to laugh at Chanyeol’s evident desire to kiss him. Chanyeol’s mouth attacks him before he can do it.
It’s a good kiss, so different from what Chanyeol was expecting. Baekhyun has been hesitant in the ball room, and then silent with him, almost shy. Chanyeol kisses him with impatience, ready to pry those lips open with force and passion, if he has to, but Baekhyun surprisingly bites his tongue enough to draw blood, making Chanyeol gasp in surprise and a little pain, and then sucks on it, gentle, unhurried, so good. Baekhyun’s lips are chapped but warm, his hand coarse against Chanyeol’s skin but firm. He leads the kiss, slowing down when Chanyeol is barely able to cope with him, tilting his head on the left and pulling Chanyeol’s hair when he doesn’t follow him.
Chanyeol is struggling to breathe when Baekhyun finally lets him resurface for air.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” he asks, definitely ashamed of the way his voice just sounded, breathless, rough, ravaged.
“Oh,” Baekhyun squirms between him and the wall, playing with the hair at the base of Chanyeol’s neck and making him shudder, “lots of people, lot of training. You Nobles don’t get that many chances to shag, do you?”
Chanyeol scoffs and this time, when Baekhyun closes the distance between them, he’s ready to fight back. It’s not that he lacks skill, being the son of the Steward he never had to beg for the attention of girls and boys and he’s really practiced a lot, despite Baekhyun’s insulting insinuation. Chanyeol is very good at kissing, it’s just that Baekhyun is better than him. More experienced, more relaxed, more composed. Where Chanyeol lets fire lick at his lips and cloud his eyes, Baekhyun allow Chanyeol’s passion to wash over him but doesn’t let himself get carried away by the backwash.
Chanyeol finds himself leaning on Baekhyun, in the unconscious attempt to overpower him with the physical advantage, but Baekhyun just smirks in the kiss and drags him closer, his arms wrapped around Chanyeol’s chest.
Chanyeol ruts against him in retaliation, enjoying the sweet payback when Baekhyun gasps in his mouth, hot and loud, followed by the filthiest curse he’s ever heard. The words, unspeakably dirty, draw a path of liquid flame from his chest to his belly and his common sense snaps. He doesn’t think when his hand slips down Baekhyun’s shoulder to his stomach, hips, reaching the hem of the pants. He undoes the first button, more than determined to solve the mystery of this boy who acts like a blushing virgin, kisses like an expert harlot and swears like a Low City rogue.
He also slaps like one.
The sting that Baekhyun’s hand leaves in its wake startles Chanyeol. Never, in his life, someone has dared to raise their hand on him. He’s the future Steward, he will one day rule the White Tower. Baekhyun doesn’t seem impressed. He takes Chanyeol’s hand, still snugly stuck inside his pants, and puts it back on his hip. When Chanyeol dares to protest he looks at him sheepishly and says, “We can keep kissing if you want, that was nice, but the next time you touch my dick without asking me if it’s alright first, I’ll make sure you lose a few teeth. Are we clear?”
Chanyeol nods, almost stupidly. His cheek burns like hell. He brings a hand to up, trying to cool it down. Baekhyun looks at him, almost hesitantly, almost like he didn’t just slapped Chanyeol, and quite hard, Chanyeol dares to say.
“Maybe we should find my friend, I promised him I wouldn’t be out of his sight for too long.”
Chanyeol nods, again, still dazed. When Baekhyun moves towards the door, Chanyeol’s body follows through, his arm finding Baekhyun’s shoulder like a magnet.
“Come on,” Chanyeol says, “this way.”
He doesn’t need to look at his reflection in the colored mirrors hanging from the walls to confirm that Baekhyun’s hand is indeed printed on his cheek, a violent red mark that will tell everyone what happened, how he was refused. Baekhyun looks torn between feeling guilty, sympathetic and downright smug. Chanyeol could get him arrested for the mere thought of raising his hand on a Noble, even more then son of the Steward. The only thing he wants, though, is to drag him in the planetarium and kiss him again. And sneak his hands on Baekhyun’s pants, this time after having asked for permission.
Sehun appears too soon, nervous and out of breath. He takes Baekhyun with him when he leaves the house, and Chanyeol steals a last, long look at the boy who struck him tonight, wondering if he’ll ever see him again, deciding that he’ll do anything in his power to see him again.
ii. Just two boys, hiding at the back of Kris' Emporium, learning to trust each other now that their world has turned dark and shattered.
The back of Kris’ shop smells like Zitao’s hands, like the residual powders stuck under his fingers. Vibrant saffron, the sour and thin scent of almonds that announces the presence of cyanide, the impalpable smell of cotton and the searing hot warmth of dragon blood thrown together in a cauldron of smells and heat. It’s a familiar scent, that makes Baekhyun immediately think of Zitao’s bark-like laugh, and at the same time it’s foreign and exotic, confusing in its impossibility to be easily identified. It fills Baekhyun’s nostrils, fogging his brain, clouding his lungs until he can’t breathe, until the only instinct left is to run and hide.
Except there’s nowhere else to hide, no safe haven for Byun Baekhyun, son of the last Starking.
Ironically, gaining this new status has also made him lose everything else. Before, he was a prince of the tower, a leader in that miniature universe of little alleys and big roads carved from white stones, of wells and houses built too quickly and too close, of porches that offered young, wild kids like Baekhyun the perfect hunting field and tight corners that made the best hiding spots. Baekhyun was a son of the Temple as much as he was a son of the White Tower, fostered by its long, chipped set of stairs and its ghosts.
He was a son of nobody once, but not anymore. Now he knows his name, he knows his lineage, his destiny and his curse. Now he’s afraid. The Temple is gone, according to what Yixing said. The Black Masks have taken it, violating every room, every tile, every stone, desecrating the holy halls of the stars. The Temple is gone and the same White Tower that has lulled him to sleep for his whole life has turned dark and menacing, ready to swallow him whole, to make him share the same destiny of the parents and brother he never knew.
It’s like the events of the last few days have made Baekhyun an orphan, again, taking him even that last shred of family he had managed to build for himself. Junmyeon, Minseok, the other boys of the Temple. They’re gone. Sehun is still asleep, trapped in his own dream after he fell to save everyone else. He’s lucky he’s still alive, but he won’t wake up. It’s not been more than thirty hours, but Baekhyun feels like he’s been coped up in this house for his entire life.
Light, at least, flickers around him, turning dark silhouettes of silent monsters into boxes and sacks of potion ingredients. Light won’t abandon Baekhyun. He can always trust his power to be there for him, to tear the veil of darkness and let him see the truth hidden beneath.
His light flickers, unsure, like a little star that’s going to burst and disappear in the sky, before going down to caress the gentle curve of Chanyeol’s cheek, and then up, flicking his nose, until it’s brushing against his long lashes. The boy grimaces, his eyelids trembling to shield his away from the disturbing glow of Baekhyun’s little sparkle of light. When he opens his eyes, they’re lost and unfocused, dark with sleep, but they immediately snap shut when the light buzzes closer, making his pupil shrink to the dimension of a pin head.
“What are you doing?” the boy mumbles, his voice reverberating against Baekhyun’s skin in the narrow room.
“Just wondering…” he replies, but he doesn’t say anything else. He simply watches the light slide on Chanyeol’s face, all big eyes and messy hair, the tiniest hint of drool at the left corner of his swollen pink lips. He looks like an angel like this, but he can’t trust him to be one. He’s the son of the Steward, the son of the man who killed his parents.
Something sparks in Chanyeol’s eyes, a lonely flash of lucidity, and his fingers close like a trap around Baekhyun’s wrist, too fast for him to jerk away from the touch - too fast for a man whose reflexes were supposed to be slowed down by sleep.
“What are you doing?” growls Baekhyun, trying to wiggle out of Chanyeol’s hold, but the boy doesn’t let go. He’s strong, Baekhyun realizes, physically stronger than Baekhyun. Even if he has easily beaten Chanyeol before, in the ancient sanctuary of the Temple, now, as they lie curled on the floor, too close for him to use his light against Chanyeol, the other boy has the physical advantage. He could easily pin Baekhyun to the floor and kill him, he realizes with growing panic, and his light shakes nervously, ready to counterattack, instinct finally kicking in.
That’s when Chanyeol tugs Baekhyun down, making the other boy fall on his chest.
“What are you doing?” repeats Baekhyun, as the strange sense of panic disappears from his chest, leaving place to disbelief and confusion.
“Sleep with me.” A little pause to rearrange his thoughts. “You haven’t slept since the night of the Festival of the Stars. You have to sleep, Baekhyun. You have to be awake and ready to run when they’ll come for you…”
“When your father will come for me.”
He wanted his voice to be sharp enough to cut Chanyeol’s heart, to make him bleed all over the floor, but he’s speaking against Chanyeol’s chest and the fabric of his shirt muffles the words making them come out weak. Nonetheless, Chanyeol tenses under him. Baekhyun is so close to his chest that he can clearly hear his heart beat furiously, like the drums of the savages of the desert.
“I won’t let him take you,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun believes him. Under his head, Chanyeol’s heart beats so fast it sounds like it’s going to explode soon if it doesn’t slow down. “I’ll stay awake and keep watch, so you can sleep now, Baekhyun. That guard of the Temple said that Sehun will wake up soon and then we’ll all have to leave as soon as possible. You must rest now.”
Baekhyun doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to stay awake and keep looking at Park Chanyeol’s face, wondering whether he can trust this boy or not, but Chanyeol’s body is warm and his chest heaves down with his breaths in a lulling, treacherous way. The only thing that’s still frantic is his heartbeat, but it’s becoming so difficult to keep himself anchored to that furious rhythm, especially now that Chanyeol’s hands are on Baekhyun’s back, drawing little circles on his hips and coaxing the tense muscles to relax until Baekhyun goes lax in Chanyeol’s arms.
“I can’t trust you,” Baekhyun murmurs, unconsciously nuzzling against Chanyeol’s neck and angling his head so that the fingers that have caressed his whole back can tangle themselves in his hair. “I really can’t.”
But he lets Chanyeol rearrange his body until he’s lying on top of the son of the man who wants him dead, unable to fight the cage of dreams closing upon him.
Baekhyun falls asleep, for the first time in the last three days, in Chanyeol’s arms. He never hears Chanyeol’s soft whisper of “I know,” nor does he feel the way his arms tighten around Baekhyun’s sleeping form like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him from drowning in a sea of darkness.
The following morning doesn’t bring forth any good news. Sehun is still a pale body lying on the only bed, Jongdae waiting like a ghost next to him. Baekhyun wants to stay there too, together with Jongdae, but at the same time the sight of Sehun’s lifeless face and Jongdae’s mad, desperate eyes disturb him. Baekhyun is not stupid. He knows Jongdae is the boy of Sehun’s dreams and being there with them feels strange, a bit too much like he’s intruding on them.
That’s why he finds himself sitting on the floor next to a too silent Chanyeol, who only stops staring in the distance with hollow, lost eyes when he sees Baekhyun. Their eyes meet for less than a heartbeat before Chanyeol looks away, almost as if he’s ashamed.
And Baekhyun wants to be cruel and manipulative. He wants to tug at Chanyeol’s weak points until the other boy is breaking. He wants to ask about Chanyeol’s father, wants to hear the boy admit that his father is a murderer, that his father is evil, that his father has always lied to him. He wants to see Chanyeol’s lips crack under the pressure of nervousness, his teeth worrying at them until they bleed. He wants to see Chanyeol’s eyes close, his eyelids heavy with guilt and shame, unable to bear the weight of his sins. He wants Chanyeol to feel as miserable as Baekhyun feels, but deep down he knows Chanyeol is probably feeling even more miserable than Baekhyun can imagine. He hurts and Chanyeol is hurting and Baekhyun doesn’t know how to turn this pain in something better, for both of them, so he leans his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder and he closes his eyes too.
Maybe, if they both don’t look at it, reality can stop existing and they can both come back to be Baekhyun and Chanyeol, two boys looking at the stars in a fake planetarium.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because he’s going crazy. This is what he tells himself, pushing the words against Chanyeol’s open lips at the same time he pushes the other boy against the wall.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because the other boy has forced him to sleep when Baekhyun couldn’t, with warm hands curled against his nape to keep Baekhyun in place and not let him squirm away. Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol for his courage, for all the questions Baekhyun himself wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to voice out loud. Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol for asking what his father is doing, even if the shame is enough to make him run to Kris’ spare room and sit on the floor, in the dark, trying to keep his breath under control, trying to come to terms with the fact that his father is a bad person - that his father is willing to order the murder of innocent people just because they’re in the way of his ambitions. Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol for that time he distracts Jongdae, forcing him to detach himself from Sehun’s side, and Baekhyun can finally enter the room and sits next to his friend, caressing his hair the way Sehun likes the most, the same way he would pet a kitten.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because the back of Kris’ shop smells like him already, like the sweat pooling down in the hollow of his throat at night, while he holds Baekhyun tight despite the suffocating heat of the little room; like smoke and blood and those expensive perfumes rich people from the Upper Levels like to bathe in, a fragrance that has yet to left Chanyeol even if he’s spent the last two days sleeping between barrels full of strange herbs and wyvern bones.
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because he’s scared and afraid and Chanyeol is even more scared and more afraid than him, but Chanyeol forces his hand not to tremble as he intertwines his and Baekhyun’s fingers together and whispers sweet, thin lies against his neck when he thinks Baekhyun is already sleeping. don’t worry I’ll protect you I won’t let anything happen to you everything will be fine Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun
Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol because, when he asks Chanyeol whether is doing this out of guilt and out of pity, Chanyeol simply stares at him, with an intensity that burns his skin and his soul, and then kisses him. Baekhyun kisses him back.
TBC...