Grazed Knees
Title: Grazed Knees
Author: Anonymous until 1/30/14
For: onnaonah
Pairing: Baekhyun/Kai
Word Count: 3,700
Summary: Baekhyun is a jaded math teacher. Jongin is a frightened nineteen year old stuck working in a grocery store. Somehow their paths intersect.
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse
Rating: PG
One
“i'm trying not to stare, it's too late
the blanket's over there, if you like
it's easier to lie and be safe - time and time again i'm half-stalled
one giant leap of faith is easy”
grazed knees by snow patrol
It happens just outside his local grocery store.
÷
Baekhyun is exhausted, nearly dropping dead on his feet. Today had been exhausting, nothing short of the usual for the Friday though. The imminent promise of a weekend always gets his students up in a tizzy. He had to send a couple of boisterous ninth grader boys from his Math class down to the principal’s office and off they set, with their uniform shirts halfway tucked in and unrepentant smiles on their faces.
He’d somehow made it through the day with a large mug of coffee and pretending he had infinite reserves of patience. On his break, Baekhyun made a beeline straight for the men’s room in the staff lounge. He took a deep breath, and buried slender fingers in his hair.
There was something about this job which killed him. Was it the monotony of day-in, day-out routine shit? Or the entitled attitude of his students sometimes? The fact that Baekhyun threw himself into this profession a hundred percent and didn’t seem to get anything out of it minus the fat pay cheques?
He didn’t know. Maybe it was a compilation of everything building up.
÷
Winter is harsh this year. Baekhyun pulls the reserved school staff sticker out from when he stuck it under one of the wipers. Placing his hand on the front passenger’s seat, Baekhyun checks his rearview mirror as he pulls out, keeping an eye for any kids jaywalking. Near the school entrance, two teachers are yelling at a group of students. A boy stands alone not far off from the group of commotion, his face timid, arms around his skinny body. He’s not wearing a jacket and Baekhyun clucks his tongue.
They were probably picking on him. Baekhyun hates after school bus supervision for precisely this reason. In the beginning, he’d been very gung ho about it, marching up and down, belting at the top of his lungs at kids jaywalking or running across the other end of the street to chase smaller students and beat them up. Year after year after year’s worn Baekhyun thin and broken down his mileage. It’s not like he gets paid enough to lose his voice by the end of first month of school.
He winds his way around one way roads. Home is a small furnished apartment, conveniently close to the high school Baekhyun works at but not a residential area. He’d asked his landlord, Chanyeol, over and over if students and their families lived in the vicinity. Not that Baekhyun wanted to avoid children at any cost but he’d definitely learned over the course of his career that teaching was the best form of birth control.
At some point in his life, he’d thought of it all - the woman, two point five children and a white picket fence - and realized the times were changing. He could go out for a few drinks with some buddies, chat up a few interested women (or men, Baekhyun had realized he was inclined either way) and experience some physical intimacy for a few hours. He was twenty five and queer and it was the year 2000. The times were definitely changing.
÷
He parks in front of the grocery store. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Baekhyun shakes himself mentally. He checks his reflection in the rear view mirror. The whites of his eyes are slightly red and burn every time he ever so much as blinks.
In the store, Baekhyun checks his phone. A voice mail from his father reminding him that their twenty-seventh wedding anniversary is soon. Two missed calls from his best friend since childhood, Jongdae. And a text as well.
r we drinking tonight or what?
A grin briefly flits across Baekhyun’s face. Jongdae is usually a riot when he’s drunk. His best friend from school is now working at Victoria’s Secret. Jongdae usually never cares about what people say or think of him for anything he does. It’s probably the only reason Baekhyun’s still friends with him.
sure but if we go to that noraebang frequented by the old ppl im disowning u
He picks out veggies from the current fresh produce. Bok choy, sprouts, red radish bulbs. Living alone forced Baekhyun to get creative with his cooking. He got sick of eating nothing but microwaved pizza within a month very fast.
A buzz from his phone distracts Baekhyun from the crumped up sticky note on which he untidily scrawled out his grocery list.
r u sure abt that, old man
Baekhyun snorts at that.
aren’t u getting a little too old for the panty fetish
Yawning, Baekhyun tears off another plastic bag from the roll standing next to a crate of spinach leaves. A few crates away, there’s an old man with his arms folded, yelling at a boy with his head bent in rapid-fire Korean. Baekhyun winces as he passes by and notices the boy’s shoulders are shaking. There’s a lot of angry words thrown in there and it’s too fast for Baekhyun to really comprehend but he gets the gist anyway. He’s seen the store manager before but not the son. Probably just started working here. Baekhyun pretends he hasn’t noticed anything. Everybody picking out greens happens to be doing the same thing.
His phone buzzes with an answer from Jongdae.
IT’S A JOB NOT A LIFESTYLE CHOICE
Baekhyun chuckles. Teasing Jongdae about his job is way too easy.
÷
He’s busy unloading his grocery bags when he hears the strangled cry of pain. Baekhyun looks up quickly.
There’s the store manager’s son lying outside the front door of the grocery store. He’s clutching his foot and howling, tears in his eyes.
Baekhyun rushes forward, as fast as he can, since there’s ice everywhere. He crouches down next to the boy. He’s got dark hair and slightly tanned skin. His eyes are liquid dark, tears streaming down his cheeks. Baekhyun decides he can’t be older than nineteen.
“What happened?”
“I,” The boy starts, then shuts his mouth and bites on his lip hard. “Think I broke my ankle? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hurts like a bitch. Shit.”
Baekhyun assesses the situation in front of him. The boy’s wearing a heavy red jacket, worn out denims stained at the knees with something brown and huge boots. It’s the left ankle.
“Okay,” Baekhyun says, soft. He heaves a sigh internally because there’s no way he’s going to get home early enough today for the game and curl up in front of his sofa with a mug of cider. “What’s your name?”
“Jongin. A-are you a teacher?”
Baekhyun groans because god, he was expecting this. He always runs into a former student somewhere. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m a teacher. I’m Baekhyun. You’re the store manager’s son, right? Hang on, I’m just going to go in and call your father.”
“No!”
He’s startled when Jongin, despite the pain he’s in, latches onto his right forearm with both hands in a vice-like grip. “P-please, no. Not right now, he’s not there anyway-“
Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrow. Something is wrong here, extremely wrong and he thinks he knows but now is not the time to be asking those sorts of questions. He has to act fast. “Okay, fine. I’m going to piggyback you to my car. I’m taking you to the hospital’s emergency unit.”
Jongin winces. He wraps his arms around the back of Baekhyun’s neck however, and breathes deeply, exhaling little puffs of warmed air that hit Baekhyun’s skin right through his heavy muffler. Baekhyun is careful as he takes little baby steps on the ice, heaving a sigh of relief when he finally gets to his car. He carefully turns his back and lets Jongin down on the back seat, feeling bad when he hears another cry of pain from the younger boy.
He switches gears and reverses them out of there. Baekhyun stops at a red light and tries to place this Jongin kid in his mind. Did he teach the boy at some point?
“Hey, Jongin, we’re nearly there,” he says, conversational. Jongin looks up, muttering a barely heard “thanks so much.”
“Don’t mention it,” says Baekhyun quietly. “You look like you’ve seen the apocalypse.”
Jongin laughs a little and wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “Maybe this is the start of it,” he jokes back, but Baekhyun catches the fatigue.
“How old are you? Are you in high school?” He’s talking now to get Jongin’s mind off the pain and Jongin gets it, starting to play along and make small talk too.
“No,” he says, tone hesitant. “I graduated high school last year. Right now, I’m working in that convenience store. My dad is the manager there. Well. Like you know already.” He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t really have any money for college at the moment.”
Baekhyun hums his assent. “Very true, college is a lot of money. Have you any idea what you would like to do though?”
He notices Jongin’s light up a bit and not look so dull with pain now. “Yeah, I really wanted to study dance and music a lot. My mother put me in these ballet classes when I was seven. It’s s-something I always wanted to pursue.”
“That’s neat though,” Baekhyun says, making a right turn. The hospital comes into view. He pays for underground parking and is let through. “Might want to be more careful with your leg though. Gotta keep it all fine and dandy for when you’re a Cirque du Soleil performer finally, huh?”
Jongin laughs again. His face isn’t twisted in a grimace anymore.
“W-what about you?” He asks haltingly. “What did you study before you became a teacher? I remember you from high school. I never had you for math but some of my friends did.”
"Really? What'd they say about me?"
"That your jokes were pretty bad but you were a good teacher."
Baekhyun pretends to look hurt. "Hey! That one joke about the alligator, frog and the turtle entering a bar was pretty good."
"No, actually that was the one my friends didn't get," Jongin says apologetically, but there’s an amused twinkle in his eyes.
“Whatever, I thought they were funny and that counts. Anyway, I studied physics, and I hate my job,” Baekhyun says shortly. “It’s alright, but I would rather be doing something else right now.”
“Like what?” Jongin asks, curious.
“Traveling,” says Baekhyun, a wistful smile spreading on his face. “Never been to Korea. Feels strange that I haven’t. I feel like I’m out of touch with my own culture. Getting in touch with my roots and all that.”
“I’d love to visit as well,” Jongin confesses. He heaves a huge sigh. “I guess that’s my endgame too in a sense.”
“Can you speak Korean?” Baekhyun asks. He looks up. “I can’t, and you’re not allowed to make me feel bad about it.”
Jongin shares a guilty smile with Baekhyun in the rear view mirror. “I couldn’t make you feel bad about it when I can’t speak a single word of it either. Guess we both suck huh. My parents hate that too.”
“What can’t be helped can’t be helped,” says Baekhyun in response. He wonders if it’s really just Jongin’s father who hates it.
÷
Baekhyun gets him in a wheel chair and checks in with the receptionist at the emergency unit, filling out a form about the incident. Jongin is attended to by a kind elder nurse. She carefully twists his hurt ankle out of the boot and together with Baekhyun later, help him onto a hospital mattress.
Baekhyun twiddles his thumbs and waits. Jongin is a bigger guy than Baekhyun, taller and broader in the shoulders and chest but he looks strangely small and vulnerable now in just his cream-coloured sweater. His hair is cut in thick, heavy bangs which cover his forehead and are swept sideways. Now that Baekhyun gets a chance, he notices that Jongin is extremely handsome, with full lips and pretty eyes.
Baekhyun averts his gaze.
The nurse comes in again with a hospital wrist band. “I need to put this on you,” she says. Jongin nods, and tiredly lifts up his injured leg.
The nurse and Baekhyun share a look of amusement. “Er,” says Baekhyun, trying to keep his tone flat. “Jongin, she needs to put the band on your wrist. Not your ankle.”
Jongin’s eyes focus on him again, and an embarrassed pink flush spreads over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Oh. Oh yeah,” he mumbles, and holds out his wrist, studying his knees intensely. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Baekhyun fights the urge to coo at Jongin and pinch his cheeks. One thing’s for sure. Jongin is adorable.
÷
“It’s a severe ankle sprain,” says the doctor who arrives a half hour later, with an apologetic smile on his tired face. He bandages Jongin’s ankle carefully and gives him a careful once over. “You need to rest that foot for at least three days. No walking unless you absolutely need to. You can leave if you want.”
There is a look of consternation on Jongin’s face when the doctor leaves. “Okay,” says Baekhyun. “I’ll drive you home, hmm?”
“Uh,” Jongin says, and his eyes shutter completely. Baekhyun notices the way his hands shake a bit when he helps Jongin into the wheelchair again. Something is amiss.
“What’s the matter?” Baekhyun asks, careful.
“My dad,” says Jongin. “We’ve been fighting for a bit. Uh, he wouldn’t. Take to this. My injury. Very well.”
Oh.
“Does he hit you?” Baekhyun demands, cutting right to the chase.
“Yeah,” Jongin says, looking embarrassed but mostly scared. “I’m so fucking sorry you have to deal with this, like I’m a complete mess right now, and my life’s in shambles because I don’t have money to go to college, and my dad calls me a loser every fucking day and I swear to god, this is the last straw-“
“Okay,” Baekhyun cuts him off. He takes a deep breath and makes up his mind. “Me. I’ll take you to my place for now.”
Jongin looks torn. “Baekhyun, I can’t just impose on you like that.”
“Sure, you can.” Baekhyun’s tone brooks no leave for argument. He wheels Jongin to the elevator, humming under his breath. “It’s not a big deal to me. My apartment’s pretty messy though.”
A watery smile cracks Jongin’s somber countenance.
“Do you have piles of laundry just sitting around everywhere?”
Baekhyun makes a face and bristles immediately. “No, I’m not that much of a slob. I’m a teacher. Give me some credit here.”
Jongin snorts. “I had some really sloppy teachers with interesting fashion tastes in high school. Questionable to say the least.”
“Capris are high fashion, don’t listen to what anyone tells you,” Baekhyun says, with a waggle of his eyebrows, as he unlocks his car and opens the back door. Jongin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling widely and
Baekhyun is pleased.
Seeing Jongin cry is like looking at a wounded puppy. Something about it didn’t sit well at all with Baekhyun.
Jongin should never cry. That much, he decided, was a fact.
÷
Jongin is quiet after he somehow managed to hobble his way into the shower and clean up, very much so as he takes in Baekhyun’s apartment surroundings with wide eyes. He’s lying on the couch Baekhyun placed him in, with a blanket covering his legs. Baekhyun bustles around in the kitchen.
“So,” he calls out, while he tosses some chopped garlic cloves in a pan and sautes them. Something about Jongin in his apartment makes Baekhyun feel a sort. From where he’s cooking, he can see Jongin curled up on the couch. “My apartment’s not much but it is home sweet home et cetera.”
“It’s nice,” Jongin says, eyes fixed on an old Samurai Jack episode showing on TV. “Quiet.” His eyes darken, and Baekhyun remembers the things Jongin said about his living situation.
“One day,” says Baekhyun, eyes on the mixture of spices frying in his nonstick pan. “You’ll have a place of your own too.”
He means those words as much as he can.
Jongin falls silent. He doesn’t respond to that.
÷
They have dinner in silence, while the sports network shows recaps of the game. Baekhyun groans in frustration because his team lost. Jongin smirks.
“They always lose,” he says, unkindly.
Baekhyun scowls. “They were doing so good this season though.”
Jongin makes a noncommittal sound. “Mmhm, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“I would throw a pillow at your face right now, if you weren’t so sick,” says Baekhyun, mock-threatening.
“That’s younger abuse,” Jongin protests, although he’s smiling that wide smile Baekhyun is learning to like already. “I’m hurt and fragile. You shouldn’t.”
Baekhyun yawns and stretches his arms. He’s so tired. Today has been a long day and he still hasn’t showered.
“I shouldn’t but I could.” He runs an appraising eye over Jongin’s figure. “Your hair’s still wet. Want me to towel it dry for you?”
“That’s okay.”
“No, hang on.”
Jongin looks like he wants to say no but when Baekhyun grabs the still damp towel drying off on the arm of his couch and moves the thick material over his hair, he falls silent all at once, leaning in for more of Baekhyun’s touch.
“Feels good?” Baekhyun chuckles.
Jongin blushes again, the tips of his ears turning red again. “Yeah,” he mumbles under his breath. “My mom used to pull my hair when she tried to dry it.”
Baekhyun grins, a strange warmth settling in his chest. He doesn’t know why or how but there’s a sudden large amount of warmth settling in a pool in his tummy. The urge to press his lips against Jongin’s cheek and give him a smacking kiss is high. He decides to give into it.
“What-“ Jongin yelps, but Baekhyun is already pulling away with a cheeky smile.
“What?” He echoes, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re cute.”
Now Jongin really does blush a lovely shade of red all over.
÷
Baekhyun emerges out of the shower, his skin the shade of a lobster all over. He pulled on a loose shirt and sweat pants on in the bathroom, feeling rather awkward for once in his own home. It’s been a while since Baekhyun really had someone apart fromJongdae over. His hair is dripping wet all over the hard wood.
Jongin is still curled up on the couch, watching Masterchef. Baekhyun heads over to his little supply closet in the bedroom. He finds a spare blanket and pillow for Jongin and strides out back into the living room.
Jongin starts when he sees Baekhyun. His lips part at the sight of Baekhyun’s wet hair, pulled up and away from his face.
“I cranked up the heating so you’re not cold,” Baekhyun says awkwardly. “I’m also in the next room so if you need anything, just holler. Do you need a warmer comforter?”
Jongin shakes his head. There’s a small smile on his face. “No, this is good. I’m good.”
Baekhyun smiles. He turns away when he feels a slight pressure on the hem of his loose night shirt at the back. Jongin retracts his fingers as soon as Baekhyun turns to face him with a questioning glance, looking embarrassed but also determined.
“Hey,” he mumbles. “Thank you. Not a lot of people would have done all of what you just did today for me, you know? It means a lot. I appreciate the gesture.”
Baekhyun shrugs, but there it is again. That unfamiliar feeling of warmth tugging on something inside of him, struggling to be let free. He wonders if it’s too much too soon. Jongin looks younger than any of the guys Baekhyun’s brought back home and fucked in his bed. He’s also however, extremely cute bundled up in Baekhyun’s Batman comforter.
“No problem,” he says, throat tight. “Anyone around would have done the same.”
Jongin looks away. “Yeah,” he says, in a very small voice. “I guess.”
It looks like words aren’t needed. Baekhyun plops down on the carpet and crosses his feet. He gives in to his impulses and brushes Jongin’s bangs away from his eyes. Jongin makes another pleased noise of assent and leans into his touch. Baekhyun continues his petting, watching Jongin’s lids flutter shut. He looks so peaceful, pretty features smoothed out and slack with sleep.
“Sleep,” Baekhyun mumbles. There’s a part of him that’s far too rough for someone as young and cute as Jongin.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it all the same.
÷
Next morning finds Jongin looking a little less in pain. Baekhyun has to go to work. Jongin insists that Baekhyun drive him back home first.
“Are you sure?” Baekhyun deadpans, when they reach his place.
Jongin offers him a tight little smile. “Yeah,” he says, with a fluid shrug of his shoulders.
Baekhyun makes a face. “Okay,” he says. “Call me if anything.”
Jongin nods. He looks like he’s trying to make his mind up about something. Baekhyun is startled when Jongin leans in and presses his lips against his cheek.
“Thank you,” he says again, in a whisper.
Baekhyun nods, slightly dazed. “Call me,” he repeats sternly. “I mean it. If you’re in trouble or need a place again. I’m here.”
A small smirk arrests Jongin’s pretty face and Baekhyun thinks he’s never seen anyone so brave before. His heart breaks all the more to see it. “I will.”
One
Author: Anonymous until 1/30/14
For: onnaonah
Pairing: Baekhyun/Kai
Word Count: 3,700
Summary: Baekhyun is a jaded math teacher. Jongin is a frightened nineteen year old stuck working in a grocery store. Somehow their paths intersect.
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse
Rating: PG
One
“i'm trying not to stare, it's too late
the blanket's over there, if you like
it's easier to lie and be safe - time and time again i'm half-stalled
one giant leap of faith is easy”
grazed knees by snow patrol
It happens just outside his local grocery store.
÷
Baekhyun is exhausted, nearly dropping dead on his feet. Today had been exhausting, nothing short of the usual for the Friday though. The imminent promise of a weekend always gets his students up in a tizzy. He had to send a couple of boisterous ninth grader boys from his Math class down to the principal’s office and off they set, with their uniform shirts halfway tucked in and unrepentant smiles on their faces.
He’d somehow made it through the day with a large mug of coffee and pretending he had infinite reserves of patience. On his break, Baekhyun made a beeline straight for the men’s room in the staff lounge. He took a deep breath, and buried slender fingers in his hair.
There was something about this job which killed him. Was it the monotony of day-in, day-out routine shit? Or the entitled attitude of his students sometimes? The fact that Baekhyun threw himself into this profession a hundred percent and didn’t seem to get anything out of it minus the fat pay cheques?
He didn’t know. Maybe it was a compilation of everything building up.
÷
Winter is harsh this year. Baekhyun pulls the reserved school staff sticker out from when he stuck it under one of the wipers. Placing his hand on the front passenger’s seat, Baekhyun checks his rearview mirror as he pulls out, keeping an eye for any kids jaywalking. Near the school entrance, two teachers are yelling at a group of students. A boy stands alone not far off from the group of commotion, his face timid, arms around his skinny body. He’s not wearing a jacket and Baekhyun clucks his tongue.
They were probably picking on him. Baekhyun hates after school bus supervision for precisely this reason. In the beginning, he’d been very gung ho about it, marching up and down, belting at the top of his lungs at kids jaywalking or running across the other end of the street to chase smaller students and beat them up. Year after year after year’s worn Baekhyun thin and broken down his mileage. It’s not like he gets paid enough to lose his voice by the end of first month of school.
He winds his way around one way roads. Home is a small furnished apartment, conveniently close to the high school Baekhyun works at but not a residential area. He’d asked his landlord, Chanyeol, over and over if students and their families lived in the vicinity. Not that Baekhyun wanted to avoid children at any cost but he’d definitely learned over the course of his career that teaching was the best form of birth control.
At some point in his life, he’d thought of it all - the woman, two point five children and a white picket fence - and realized the times were changing. He could go out for a few drinks with some buddies, chat up a few interested women (or men, Baekhyun had realized he was inclined either way) and experience some physical intimacy for a few hours. He was twenty five and queer and it was the year 2000. The times were definitely changing.
÷
He parks in front of the grocery store. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Baekhyun shakes himself mentally. He checks his reflection in the rear view mirror. The whites of his eyes are slightly red and burn every time he ever so much as blinks.
In the store, Baekhyun checks his phone. A voice mail from his father reminding him that their twenty-seventh wedding anniversary is soon. Two missed calls from his best friend since childhood, Jongdae. And a text as well.
r we drinking tonight or what?
A grin briefly flits across Baekhyun’s face. Jongdae is usually a riot when he’s drunk. His best friend from school is now working at Victoria’s Secret. Jongdae usually never cares about what people say or think of him for anything he does. It’s probably the only reason Baekhyun’s still friends with him.
sure but if we go to that noraebang frequented by the old ppl im disowning u
He picks out veggies from the current fresh produce. Bok choy, sprouts, red radish bulbs. Living alone forced Baekhyun to get creative with his cooking. He got sick of eating nothing but microwaved pizza within a month very fast.
A buzz from his phone distracts Baekhyun from the crumped up sticky note on which he untidily scrawled out his grocery list.
r u sure abt that, old man
Baekhyun snorts at that.
aren’t u getting a little too old for the panty fetish
Yawning, Baekhyun tears off another plastic bag from the roll standing next to a crate of spinach leaves. A few crates away, there’s an old man with his arms folded, yelling at a boy with his head bent in rapid-fire Korean. Baekhyun winces as he passes by and notices the boy’s shoulders are shaking. There’s a lot of angry words thrown in there and it’s too fast for Baekhyun to really comprehend but he gets the gist anyway. He’s seen the store manager before but not the son. Probably just started working here. Baekhyun pretends he hasn’t noticed anything. Everybody picking out greens happens to be doing the same thing.
His phone buzzes with an answer from Jongdae.
IT’S A JOB NOT A LIFESTYLE CHOICE
Baekhyun chuckles. Teasing Jongdae about his job is way too easy.
÷
He’s busy unloading his grocery bags when he hears the strangled cry of pain. Baekhyun looks up quickly.
There’s the store manager’s son lying outside the front door of the grocery store. He’s clutching his foot and howling, tears in his eyes.
Baekhyun rushes forward, as fast as he can, since there’s ice everywhere. He crouches down next to the boy. He’s got dark hair and slightly tanned skin. His eyes are liquid dark, tears streaming down his cheeks. Baekhyun decides he can’t be older than nineteen.
“What happened?”
“I,” The boy starts, then shuts his mouth and bites on his lip hard. “Think I broke my ankle? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hurts like a bitch. Shit.”
Baekhyun assesses the situation in front of him. The boy’s wearing a heavy red jacket, worn out denims stained at the knees with something brown and huge boots. It’s the left ankle.
“Okay,” Baekhyun says, soft. He heaves a sigh internally because there’s no way he’s going to get home early enough today for the game and curl up in front of his sofa with a mug of cider. “What’s your name?”
“Jongin. A-are you a teacher?”
Baekhyun groans because god, he was expecting this. He always runs into a former student somewhere. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m a teacher. I’m Baekhyun. You’re the store manager’s son, right? Hang on, I’m just going to go in and call your father.”
“No!”
He’s startled when Jongin, despite the pain he’s in, latches onto his right forearm with both hands in a vice-like grip. “P-please, no. Not right now, he’s not there anyway-“
Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrow. Something is wrong here, extremely wrong and he thinks he knows but now is not the time to be asking those sorts of questions. He has to act fast. “Okay, fine. I’m going to piggyback you to my car. I’m taking you to the hospital’s emergency unit.”
Jongin winces. He wraps his arms around the back of Baekhyun’s neck however, and breathes deeply, exhaling little puffs of warmed air that hit Baekhyun’s skin right through his heavy muffler. Baekhyun is careful as he takes little baby steps on the ice, heaving a sigh of relief when he finally gets to his car. He carefully turns his back and lets Jongin down on the back seat, feeling bad when he hears another cry of pain from the younger boy.
He switches gears and reverses them out of there. Baekhyun stops at a red light and tries to place this Jongin kid in his mind. Did he teach the boy at some point?
“Hey, Jongin, we’re nearly there,” he says, conversational. Jongin looks up, muttering a barely heard “thanks so much.”
“Don’t mention it,” says Baekhyun quietly. “You look like you’ve seen the apocalypse.”
Jongin laughs a little and wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “Maybe this is the start of it,” he jokes back, but Baekhyun catches the fatigue.
“How old are you? Are you in high school?” He’s talking now to get Jongin’s mind off the pain and Jongin gets it, starting to play along and make small talk too.
“No,” he says, tone hesitant. “I graduated high school last year. Right now, I’m working in that convenience store. My dad is the manager there. Well. Like you know already.” He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t really have any money for college at the moment.”
Baekhyun hums his assent. “Very true, college is a lot of money. Have you any idea what you would like to do though?”
He notices Jongin’s light up a bit and not look so dull with pain now. “Yeah, I really wanted to study dance and music a lot. My mother put me in these ballet classes when I was seven. It’s s-something I always wanted to pursue.”
“That’s neat though,” Baekhyun says, making a right turn. The hospital comes into view. He pays for underground parking and is let through. “Might want to be more careful with your leg though. Gotta keep it all fine and dandy for when you’re a Cirque du Soleil performer finally, huh?”
Jongin laughs again. His face isn’t twisted in a grimace anymore.
“W-what about you?” He asks haltingly. “What did you study before you became a teacher? I remember you from high school. I never had you for math but some of my friends did.”
"Really? What'd they say about me?"
"That your jokes were pretty bad but you were a good teacher."
Baekhyun pretends to look hurt. "Hey! That one joke about the alligator, frog and the turtle entering a bar was pretty good."
"No, actually that was the one my friends didn't get," Jongin says apologetically, but there’s an amused twinkle in his eyes.
“Whatever, I thought they were funny and that counts. Anyway, I studied physics, and I hate my job,” Baekhyun says shortly. “It’s alright, but I would rather be doing something else right now.”
“Like what?” Jongin asks, curious.
“Traveling,” says Baekhyun, a wistful smile spreading on his face. “Never been to Korea. Feels strange that I haven’t. I feel like I’m out of touch with my own culture. Getting in touch with my roots and all that.”
“I’d love to visit as well,” Jongin confesses. He heaves a huge sigh. “I guess that’s my endgame too in a sense.”
“Can you speak Korean?” Baekhyun asks. He looks up. “I can’t, and you’re not allowed to make me feel bad about it.”
Jongin shares a guilty smile with Baekhyun in the rear view mirror. “I couldn’t make you feel bad about it when I can’t speak a single word of it either. Guess we both suck huh. My parents hate that too.”
“What can’t be helped can’t be helped,” says Baekhyun in response. He wonders if it’s really just Jongin’s father who hates it.
÷
Baekhyun gets him in a wheel chair and checks in with the receptionist at the emergency unit, filling out a form about the incident. Jongin is attended to by a kind elder nurse. She carefully twists his hurt ankle out of the boot and together with Baekhyun later, help him onto a hospital mattress.
Baekhyun twiddles his thumbs and waits. Jongin is a bigger guy than Baekhyun, taller and broader in the shoulders and chest but he looks strangely small and vulnerable now in just his cream-coloured sweater. His hair is cut in thick, heavy bangs which cover his forehead and are swept sideways. Now that Baekhyun gets a chance, he notices that Jongin is extremely handsome, with full lips and pretty eyes.
Baekhyun averts his gaze.
The nurse comes in again with a hospital wrist band. “I need to put this on you,” she says. Jongin nods, and tiredly lifts up his injured leg.
The nurse and Baekhyun share a look of amusement. “Er,” says Baekhyun, trying to keep his tone flat. “Jongin, she needs to put the band on your wrist. Not your ankle.”
Jongin’s eyes focus on him again, and an embarrassed pink flush spreads over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Oh. Oh yeah,” he mumbles, and holds out his wrist, studying his knees intensely. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Baekhyun fights the urge to coo at Jongin and pinch his cheeks. One thing’s for sure. Jongin is adorable.
÷
“It’s a severe ankle sprain,” says the doctor who arrives a half hour later, with an apologetic smile on his tired face. He bandages Jongin’s ankle carefully and gives him a careful once over. “You need to rest that foot for at least three days. No walking unless you absolutely need to. You can leave if you want.”
There is a look of consternation on Jongin’s face when the doctor leaves. “Okay,” says Baekhyun. “I’ll drive you home, hmm?”
“Uh,” Jongin says, and his eyes shutter completely. Baekhyun notices the way his hands shake a bit when he helps Jongin into the wheelchair again. Something is amiss.
“What’s the matter?” Baekhyun asks, careful.
“My dad,” says Jongin. “We’ve been fighting for a bit. Uh, he wouldn’t. Take to this. My injury. Very well.”
Oh.
“Does he hit you?” Baekhyun demands, cutting right to the chase.
“Yeah,” Jongin says, looking embarrassed but mostly scared. “I’m so fucking sorry you have to deal with this, like I’m a complete mess right now, and my life’s in shambles because I don’t have money to go to college, and my dad calls me a loser every fucking day and I swear to god, this is the last straw-“
“Okay,” Baekhyun cuts him off. He takes a deep breath and makes up his mind. “Me. I’ll take you to my place for now.”
Jongin looks torn. “Baekhyun, I can’t just impose on you like that.”
“Sure, you can.” Baekhyun’s tone brooks no leave for argument. He wheels Jongin to the elevator, humming under his breath. “It’s not a big deal to me. My apartment’s pretty messy though.”
A watery smile cracks Jongin’s somber countenance.
“Do you have piles of laundry just sitting around everywhere?”
Baekhyun makes a face and bristles immediately. “No, I’m not that much of a slob. I’m a teacher. Give me some credit here.”
Jongin snorts. “I had some really sloppy teachers with interesting fashion tastes in high school. Questionable to say the least.”
“Capris are high fashion, don’t listen to what anyone tells you,” Baekhyun says, with a waggle of his eyebrows, as he unlocks his car and opens the back door. Jongin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling widely and
Baekhyun is pleased.
Seeing Jongin cry is like looking at a wounded puppy. Something about it didn’t sit well at all with Baekhyun.
Jongin should never cry. That much, he decided, was a fact.
÷
Jongin is quiet after he somehow managed to hobble his way into the shower and clean up, very much so as he takes in Baekhyun’s apartment surroundings with wide eyes. He’s lying on the couch Baekhyun placed him in, with a blanket covering his legs. Baekhyun bustles around in the kitchen.
“So,” he calls out, while he tosses some chopped garlic cloves in a pan and sautes them. Something about Jongin in his apartment makes Baekhyun feel a sort. From where he’s cooking, he can see Jongin curled up on the couch. “My apartment’s not much but it is home sweet home et cetera.”
“It’s nice,” Jongin says, eyes fixed on an old Samurai Jack episode showing on TV. “Quiet.” His eyes darken, and Baekhyun remembers the things Jongin said about his living situation.
“One day,” says Baekhyun, eyes on the mixture of spices frying in his nonstick pan. “You’ll have a place of your own too.”
He means those words as much as he can.
Jongin falls silent. He doesn’t respond to that.
÷
They have dinner in silence, while the sports network shows recaps of the game. Baekhyun groans in frustration because his team lost. Jongin smirks.
“They always lose,” he says, unkindly.
Baekhyun scowls. “They were doing so good this season though.”
Jongin makes a noncommittal sound. “Mmhm, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“I would throw a pillow at your face right now, if you weren’t so sick,” says Baekhyun, mock-threatening.
“That’s younger abuse,” Jongin protests, although he’s smiling that wide smile Baekhyun is learning to like already. “I’m hurt and fragile. You shouldn’t.”
Baekhyun yawns and stretches his arms. He’s so tired. Today has been a long day and he still hasn’t showered.
“I shouldn’t but I could.” He runs an appraising eye over Jongin’s figure. “Your hair’s still wet. Want me to towel it dry for you?”
“That’s okay.”
“No, hang on.”
Jongin looks like he wants to say no but when Baekhyun grabs the still damp towel drying off on the arm of his couch and moves the thick material over his hair, he falls silent all at once, leaning in for more of Baekhyun’s touch.
“Feels good?” Baekhyun chuckles.
Jongin blushes again, the tips of his ears turning red again. “Yeah,” he mumbles under his breath. “My mom used to pull my hair when she tried to dry it.”
Baekhyun grins, a strange warmth settling in his chest. He doesn’t know why or how but there’s a sudden large amount of warmth settling in a pool in his tummy. The urge to press his lips against Jongin’s cheek and give him a smacking kiss is high. He decides to give into it.
“What-“ Jongin yelps, but Baekhyun is already pulling away with a cheeky smile.
“What?” He echoes, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re cute.”
Now Jongin really does blush a lovely shade of red all over.
÷
Baekhyun emerges out of the shower, his skin the shade of a lobster all over. He pulled on a loose shirt and sweat pants on in the bathroom, feeling rather awkward for once in his own home. It’s been a while since Baekhyun really had someone apart fromJongdae over. His hair is dripping wet all over the hard wood.
Jongin is still curled up on the couch, watching Masterchef. Baekhyun heads over to his little supply closet in the bedroom. He finds a spare blanket and pillow for Jongin and strides out back into the living room.
Jongin starts when he sees Baekhyun. His lips part at the sight of Baekhyun’s wet hair, pulled up and away from his face.
“I cranked up the heating so you’re not cold,” Baekhyun says awkwardly. “I’m also in the next room so if you need anything, just holler. Do you need a warmer comforter?”
Jongin shakes his head. There’s a small smile on his face. “No, this is good. I’m good.”
Baekhyun smiles. He turns away when he feels a slight pressure on the hem of his loose night shirt at the back. Jongin retracts his fingers as soon as Baekhyun turns to face him with a questioning glance, looking embarrassed but also determined.
“Hey,” he mumbles. “Thank you. Not a lot of people would have done all of what you just did today for me, you know? It means a lot. I appreciate the gesture.”
Baekhyun shrugs, but there it is again. That unfamiliar feeling of warmth tugging on something inside of him, struggling to be let free. He wonders if it’s too much too soon. Jongin looks younger than any of the guys Baekhyun’s brought back home and fucked in his bed. He’s also however, extremely cute bundled up in Baekhyun’s Batman comforter.
“No problem,” he says, throat tight. “Anyone around would have done the same.”
Jongin looks away. “Yeah,” he says, in a very small voice. “I guess.”
It looks like words aren’t needed. Baekhyun plops down on the carpet and crosses his feet. He gives in to his impulses and brushes Jongin’s bangs away from his eyes. Jongin makes another pleased noise of assent and leans into his touch. Baekhyun continues his petting, watching Jongin’s lids flutter shut. He looks so peaceful, pretty features smoothed out and slack with sleep.
“Sleep,” Baekhyun mumbles. There’s a part of him that’s far too rough for someone as young and cute as Jongin.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it all the same.
÷
Next morning finds Jongin looking a little less in pain. Baekhyun has to go to work. Jongin insists that Baekhyun drive him back home first.
“Are you sure?” Baekhyun deadpans, when they reach his place.
Jongin offers him a tight little smile. “Yeah,” he says, with a fluid shrug of his shoulders.
Baekhyun makes a face. “Okay,” he says. “Call me if anything.”
Jongin nods. He looks like he’s trying to make his mind up about something. Baekhyun is startled when Jongin leans in and presses his lips against his cheek.
“Thank you,” he says again, in a whisper.
Baekhyun nods, slightly dazed. “Call me,” he repeats sternly. “I mean it. If you’re in trouble or need a place again. I’m here.”
A small smirk arrests Jongin’s pretty face and Baekhyun thinks he’s never seen anyone so brave before. His heart breaks all the more to see it. “I will.”
One