fic; and i'm like babybabybaby
exo, sebaek, 1500~ words, pg-13
fill for an anon promt at seoulfulness; drunk on too warm coke, bad music, and you
The parking lot was just repaved. Only five days ago did Baekhyun stand on Sehun’s balcony, just before midnight, and watch them put up the signs. Calm and efficient, with the ease of doing something you’ve done a hundred times before, the ease of receding heat in the night air and the ease of the last task for the day. He couldn’t read them from there but took a detour past the grocery store on his way to the bus stop the next day. No parking, the signs said. No parking between 1AM and 9AM on august 10th.
It still has that fresh, dark color; faintly blue and faintly glistening, like the shell of a beetle. Since early morning it’s been frying under the tubby august sun and is now scorching hot under Baekhyun’s naked shins. He shifts around on his ass, trying to tuck both feet under the opposite knee without having more skin that his socks can cover to lie against the tarmac. It’s not a comfortable position. His abs soon start developing a dull ache, and with Sehun mercilessly cackling at the white socks pulled halfway up his calves, he rolls his eyes and nicks one of Sehun’s grimy rags to sit on.
Something picnic something something huh Sehun mumbles, quiet and half-hearted and it doesn’t matter that Baekhyun didn’t hear because things like that don’t need responses anyway. He has already re-engrossed himself in nuts and bolts and technology, brows pulling together, and Baekhyun knows that if it was a joke it wasn’t very funny, because Sehun isn’t very funny. (At least not on purpose.)
By the third time shuffle gives him prepubescent nasality and babybabybaby ooh like babybabybaby noo like babybabybaby ooh thought you’d always be mine mine Baekhyun growls and tugs the plug from his ear. He thinks he knows how Sehun’s taste in music works - he turns on the radio, tunes in the shittiest, least respectable station he can find and indiscriminately downloads everything they tell him is hot and fresh. Sehun barely glares at him, only readjusts his own plug and tucks the ipod into his pocket with his least dirty hand.
Some elder couple passing study them disapprovingly. Other than that, it’s fairly empty at the lot. Too hot to really do anything. (But there’s also that lethargic contentedness that only august presents; when you’re over the stress of having a good time and actually can start enjoying yourself, when you leave the have-tos and concentrate on the want-tos. When you’ve finally accepted and reconciled with the fact that it’s gonna end.) Baekhyun squints back at the couple until they disappear. The sun stings in his eyes, nestling a dull ache in his head as well. He sweats a little on his upper lip. He hates sweating. Sweating is the absolute worst fucking thing in the entire fucking world. Fucking douchebag of a sun to make him sweat. He shifts around, turning on his rag. The sun burns on the back of his black t-shirt. Fuck his life.
“Gimme the hex key.” Sehun says without looking up. Baekhyun throws him the nearest one.
“No, not that one.” Sehun says, actually tearing away from the engine to throw Baekhyun a glance of mild personal offence. “Gimme number ten.”
Baekhyun sighs. “I have no idea which one’s number ten.”
Sehun presses his lips together, jaw pulled back in that way that reminds Baekhyun of how stupid he looks a lot of the time. Something common knowledge something he mutters but then fits the right key into the bolt and something like bliss smooths out his features. Long gone already. That fleeting image of Sehun jerking off passes through Baekhyun’s head again, genuinely wondering if Sehun sometimes pictures screwdrivers and sticking rods into holes and twisting them around until he makes that pathetic little noise in the back of his throat and jizzes into his hand. He has to ask him some day.
“Hmnhm.” Sehun says to himself, absentmindedly unscrewing the cap of his coke and taking a mouthful before passing it on, all without a glance graced. Such a multi-tasker. The drink fizzes desperately in Baekhyun’s mouth but still can’t veil the fact that it’s already entirely warm. It’s sort of gross. Baekhyun drinks anyway. His teeth immediately wrap themselves up in that coarse, corroding coat of chemically sweetened soda. He takes another swig.
The heat despite, the route of the sun has already begun to slacken, shortcutting across the sky rather than reaching the whole lap around it. The rising point and the setting point inch further and further away from each other by each day. Baekhyun saw it one shit-early morning when he couldn’t sleep, standing by Sehun’s bedroom window with one finger hooking a crack in the blinds and watching a bleary, reddish ball reluctantly climb up over the tree-tops on the hills, dangerously close to the little crack in the woods that Baekhyun knows happens to mark east.
Already does it hang heavy and billowing not far above the line of pine on the other side of the railroad running west, thickening the still air in their corner of the parking lot and pressing it tight against Baekhyun’s skin. The light of it is also thick and heavy in some way, washing the side of Sehun’s face even paler than usual and the lee behind his nose uncharacteristically rich, stretching their shadows long and sharply dark.
And there is something conflicting here. Baekhyun leans back on his hands and tries to put his finger on it. Some small, thin clouds aside, the sky domes big and empty above - Baekhyun can roll his head back and trace the line of it; over the hedge behind them, over the apartment complex and the trees on the hill and the roof of the grocery store in front and the cabins across the railway, everything either low or remote enough to open this gigantic maw of blue over the world sprawled flat on its back, ready to be swallowed whole, and -
“What are you doing?” Sehun snorts. Baekhyun comes back up, a little quicker than he’d want to, and brushes pebbles from his palms, slightly sore and printed in pebbly tarmac patterns. Sehun shakes his head and reaches for a tiny wrench, humming something to himself.
At the same time the hedge rises tall and enveloping around their square. It’s empty and quiet; the big vent on the backside of the store purrs softly, some crickets play in the bushes, the faintest little beat thumps in the earplug dangling at Sehun’s hip. Baekhyun smells grass and motor oil. The lines of the hedge and the growing shadow of the building ahead frames them in, the august sun glares like a spotlight, too bright where it hits and too dark where it doesn’t, and it’s like all there is in the world is the two of them on this parking lot. A tiny, shitty little town with a tiny, shitty little grocery store with a tiny, shitty little parking lot with two tiny, shitty little dudes with a disassembled moped and disgusting warm soda. The center of the world, the only scene of interest.
Sehun hums out of tune, some ugly, jumbled melody that’s impossibly to follow and most certainly can’t stem from an actual song. The tongue slips out on its own accord, sliding across short lips in full, undivided concentration and Baekhyun suddenly needs to reach out, needs to touch him a little bit, needs to feel warm skin under his fingertips, needs to...
Sehun startles when a lawn-mover across the hedge growls to a start and settles into a loud, insistent droning. A car curves in from the street, doors chucking and kids chattering and Baekhyun lowers his hand. Something noisy something something Sehun murmurs, reaching for the coke again, and it doesn’t matter that Baekhyun didn’t really hear because august doesn’t need a lot of responses anyway. He waits until Sehun has capped the bottle before grabbing him by the neck and fitting their mouths together, sweeping a tongue into the noise of protest and tasting the chemical sweeteners, that secret recipe of global corruption. (And some sehun.)
He smiles at the caution in Sehun’s hand on his shoulder when he pushes him away.
“What the fuck are you doing.” Sehun croaks, eyes intent on the family just disappearing around the corner.
“Hmnhm.” Baekhyun says, shrugging and cackling when Sehun shoves at his head.
Smiles at the clearing of Sehun’s throat, at the suddenly averted gaze and at the earplug being tucked back into his ear. Doesn’t even bother to groan at the right now i'm looking at you and i can't believe you don't know oh oh, only smiles some more at the strange stretching and retraction of Sehun’s neck that might pass as bopping in sync with the beat. The tongue comes back out again. Long gone already.
Smiles at the sun burning on the back of his black t-shirt. Fuck his life.
fill for an anon promt at seoulfulness; drunk on too warm coke, bad music, and you
The parking lot was just repaved. Only five days ago did Baekhyun stand on Sehun’s balcony, just before midnight, and watch them put up the signs. Calm and efficient, with the ease of doing something you’ve done a hundred times before, the ease of receding heat in the night air and the ease of the last task for the day. He couldn’t read them from there but took a detour past the grocery store on his way to the bus stop the next day. No parking, the signs said. No parking between 1AM and 9AM on august 10th.
It still has that fresh, dark color; faintly blue and faintly glistening, like the shell of a beetle. Since early morning it’s been frying under the tubby august sun and is now scorching hot under Baekhyun’s naked shins. He shifts around on his ass, trying to tuck both feet under the opposite knee without having more skin that his socks can cover to lie against the tarmac. It’s not a comfortable position. His abs soon start developing a dull ache, and with Sehun mercilessly cackling at the white socks pulled halfway up his calves, he rolls his eyes and nicks one of Sehun’s grimy rags to sit on.
Something picnic something something huh Sehun mumbles, quiet and half-hearted and it doesn’t matter that Baekhyun didn’t hear because things like that don’t need responses anyway. He has already re-engrossed himself in nuts and bolts and technology, brows pulling together, and Baekhyun knows that if it was a joke it wasn’t very funny, because Sehun isn’t very funny. (At least not on purpose.)
By the third time shuffle gives him prepubescent nasality and babybabybaby ooh like babybabybaby noo like babybabybaby ooh thought you’d always be mine mine Baekhyun growls and tugs the plug from his ear. He thinks he knows how Sehun’s taste in music works - he turns on the radio, tunes in the shittiest, least respectable station he can find and indiscriminately downloads everything they tell him is hot and fresh. Sehun barely glares at him, only readjusts his own plug and tucks the ipod into his pocket with his least dirty hand.
Some elder couple passing study them disapprovingly. Other than that, it’s fairly empty at the lot. Too hot to really do anything. (But there’s also that lethargic contentedness that only august presents; when you’re over the stress of having a good time and actually can start enjoying yourself, when you leave the have-tos and concentrate on the want-tos. When you’ve finally accepted and reconciled with the fact that it’s gonna end.) Baekhyun squints back at the couple until they disappear. The sun stings in his eyes, nestling a dull ache in his head as well. He sweats a little on his upper lip. He hates sweating. Sweating is the absolute worst fucking thing in the entire fucking world. Fucking douchebag of a sun to make him sweat. He shifts around, turning on his rag. The sun burns on the back of his black t-shirt. Fuck his life.
“Gimme the hex key.” Sehun says without looking up. Baekhyun throws him the nearest one.
“No, not that one.” Sehun says, actually tearing away from the engine to throw Baekhyun a glance of mild personal offence. “Gimme number ten.”
Baekhyun sighs. “I have no idea which one’s number ten.”
Sehun presses his lips together, jaw pulled back in that way that reminds Baekhyun of how stupid he looks a lot of the time. Something common knowledge something he mutters but then fits the right key into the bolt and something like bliss smooths out his features. Long gone already. That fleeting image of Sehun jerking off passes through Baekhyun’s head again, genuinely wondering if Sehun sometimes pictures screwdrivers and sticking rods into holes and twisting them around until he makes that pathetic little noise in the back of his throat and jizzes into his hand. He has to ask him some day.
“Hmnhm.” Sehun says to himself, absentmindedly unscrewing the cap of his coke and taking a mouthful before passing it on, all without a glance graced. Such a multi-tasker. The drink fizzes desperately in Baekhyun’s mouth but still can’t veil the fact that it’s already entirely warm. It’s sort of gross. Baekhyun drinks anyway. His teeth immediately wrap themselves up in that coarse, corroding coat of chemically sweetened soda. He takes another swig.
The heat despite, the route of the sun has already begun to slacken, shortcutting across the sky rather than reaching the whole lap around it. The rising point and the setting point inch further and further away from each other by each day. Baekhyun saw it one shit-early morning when he couldn’t sleep, standing by Sehun’s bedroom window with one finger hooking a crack in the blinds and watching a bleary, reddish ball reluctantly climb up over the tree-tops on the hills, dangerously close to the little crack in the woods that Baekhyun knows happens to mark east.
Already does it hang heavy and billowing not far above the line of pine on the other side of the railroad running west, thickening the still air in their corner of the parking lot and pressing it tight against Baekhyun’s skin. The light of it is also thick and heavy in some way, washing the side of Sehun’s face even paler than usual and the lee behind his nose uncharacteristically rich, stretching their shadows long and sharply dark.
And there is something conflicting here. Baekhyun leans back on his hands and tries to put his finger on it. Some small, thin clouds aside, the sky domes big and empty above - Baekhyun can roll his head back and trace the line of it; over the hedge behind them, over the apartment complex and the trees on the hill and the roof of the grocery store in front and the cabins across the railway, everything either low or remote enough to open this gigantic maw of blue over the world sprawled flat on its back, ready to be swallowed whole, and -
“What are you doing?” Sehun snorts. Baekhyun comes back up, a little quicker than he’d want to, and brushes pebbles from his palms, slightly sore and printed in pebbly tarmac patterns. Sehun shakes his head and reaches for a tiny wrench, humming something to himself.
At the same time the hedge rises tall and enveloping around their square. It’s empty and quiet; the big vent on the backside of the store purrs softly, some crickets play in the bushes, the faintest little beat thumps in the earplug dangling at Sehun’s hip. Baekhyun smells grass and motor oil. The lines of the hedge and the growing shadow of the building ahead frames them in, the august sun glares like a spotlight, too bright where it hits and too dark where it doesn’t, and it’s like all there is in the world is the two of them on this parking lot. A tiny, shitty little town with a tiny, shitty little grocery store with a tiny, shitty little parking lot with two tiny, shitty little dudes with a disassembled moped and disgusting warm soda. The center of the world, the only scene of interest.
Sehun hums out of tune, some ugly, jumbled melody that’s impossibly to follow and most certainly can’t stem from an actual song. The tongue slips out on its own accord, sliding across short lips in full, undivided concentration and Baekhyun suddenly needs to reach out, needs to touch him a little bit, needs to feel warm skin under his fingertips, needs to...
Sehun startles when a lawn-mover across the hedge growls to a start and settles into a loud, insistent droning. A car curves in from the street, doors chucking and kids chattering and Baekhyun lowers his hand. Something noisy something something Sehun murmurs, reaching for the coke again, and it doesn’t matter that Baekhyun didn’t really hear because august doesn’t need a lot of responses anyway. He waits until Sehun has capped the bottle before grabbing him by the neck and fitting their mouths together, sweeping a tongue into the noise of protest and tasting the chemical sweeteners, that secret recipe of global corruption. (And some sehun.)
He smiles at the caution in Sehun’s hand on his shoulder when he pushes him away.
“What the fuck are you doing.” Sehun croaks, eyes intent on the family just disappearing around the corner.
“Hmnhm.” Baekhyun says, shrugging and cackling when Sehun shoves at his head.
Smiles at the clearing of Sehun’s throat, at the suddenly averted gaze and at the earplug being tucked back into his ear. Doesn’t even bother to groan at the right now i'm looking at you and i can't believe you don't know oh oh, only smiles some more at the strange stretching and retraction of Sehun’s neck that might pass as bopping in sync with the beat. The tongue comes back out again. Long gone already.
Smiles at the sun burning on the back of his black t-shirt. Fuck his life.