maayacolabackup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maayacolabackup) wrote2012-05-21 01:32 pm
maayacolabackup) wrote2012-05-21 01:32 pm
Entry tags:
KPop: make a day feel like a minute (Baekhyun/Chanyeol) [4/4]
*
It’s an average Friday, and Chanyeol’s hands just don’t want to obey him as he gets ready for the show; maybe because he stayed up too late last night watching movies at Suho’s, and he’s still so tired.
He’s jittery too, unable to really sleep and making clumsy mistakes he wouldn’t normally make as he goes through his day.
He gives up on his makeup, figuring that’s the best it’s going to get, and shrugs on his performance clothes. He hesitates between his skinny jeans and his black leather trousers, but chooses the latter on a whim. (”I like these,” Baekhyun had said. “Why don’t you ever wear them?”) They stick to his legs, but Chanyeol doesn’t care. He just pulls on a vintage tee and walks out the door.
It’s only once he’s on the subway that he realizes he’s still got a half-hour before he has to be at MACHINE.
“You should just drop by my place if you’re early,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol presses the phone closer to his ear, so he can hear over the crowd. “I’m like, almost ready. We can walk to MACHINE together.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Chanyeol says, and then he pockets his mobile.
It’s a shorter walk than usual to Baekhyun’s flat. It’s a cheerful Baekhyun who answers the door.
“Your eyeliner is a mess,” Baekhyun says frankly, leaning forward and running his thumb across Chanyeol’s eyebrow, his gaze focused on the make-up that Chanyeol has inexpertly applied. “Let me fix it.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and lets Baekhyun pull him into his apartment. He pushes Chanyeol down onto the sofa, and then disappears into the bathroom. Chanyeol relaxes against the back of the sofa, the leather of his trousers sticking to the leather of Baekhyun’s couch. Still, it’s comfy, and Chanyeol closes his eyes.
Baekhyun returns with tubes of liquid liner and mascara, and Chanyeol eyes them curiously. “I’ve never tried the liquid before,” he says, and Baekhyun smiles at him.
“And that was your first mistake,” he says, sitting next to Chanyeol on the couch. “You’ll get a much darker and more even line with the liquid.” He reaches up and presses his palm to Chanyeol’s cheek, and uses his thumb to guide Chanyeol’s face to the right angle. “May I…?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and it’s suddenly much hotter in the room, and Chanyeol can feel every millimeter of contact between himself and Baekhyun, whose knee is pressing up against Chanyeol’s thigh as he tries to find the right position.
Baekhyun tilts Chanyeol’s face a little more left, then back to the right, before he sighs. “This is too awkward for my arm,” Baekhyun says. I’m going to have to…” He swallows, and Chanyeol’s eyes, slit slightly open so he can peek at Baekhyun, follow the line of his adam’s apple as it bobs. “Sorry,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol almost asks him why before Baekhyun swings a leg over Chanyeol’s thighs and straddles him.
“Oh,” Chanyeol squeaks, and Baekhyun clears his throat.
“Much better,” he says, but there’s a catch in his voice, and the words come out a bit cracked. “Your eyes are so big.”
Baekhyun smells like expensive cologne, and like chocolate, and Chanyeol, whose hands instinctively find the shorter man’s waist, admires the soft texture of his silk shirt even as he tries not to think about how close Baekhyun’s chest is to touching his own.
The touch of the eyeliner along his eyelid is a perfect distraction, the cool liquid a contrast to the hot touch of Baekhyun’s hand cradling his jaw, or his warm breath that blows lightly on Chanyeol’s eyelashes. “Hold still,” Baekhyun says, when Chanyeol starts to wriggle, because he’s not used to being trapped like this and there are too many emotions going through his head all at once. “You’re like a spazzy child.”
Baekhyun’s voice is teasing, and it sends a shiver down Chanyeol’s spine, and it’s only an iron exercise of will that keeps Chanyeol from moving. “I just have a lot of energy.” He realizes how it sounds after he says it, and heat floods his cheeks. Baekhyun laughs, a quiet sound that’s just as captivating as it was the first time Chanyeol had ever heard it, out in front of MACHINE on a Friday night.
“I’m sure you do,” Baekhyun says, and he leans back just a little. “Open your eyes.” Chanyeol does, and Baekhyun studies his face in a way that makes Chanyeol feel even more anxious. “It’s even,” he says to himself, with a satisfied nod, and then he bites his lip and reaches next to them on the couch for the mascara. “Okay,” he whispers. “Close them again.”
Chanyeol tightens his hands on Baekhyun’s waist, and Baekhyun doesn’t seem to mind, but he stops for a moment, and takes a deep breath, before he lifts the mascara wand up to Chanyeol’s eyes. Maybe it’s because Chanyeol’s eyes are shut, but he’s hyper-aware of every shift of Baekhyun’s thighs, the denim of his jeans scratching against the leather of Chanyeol’s trousers, and every brush of Baekhyun’s arm against his bare bicep.
Chanyeol feels a bit like he’s on fire from the proximity, and Baekhyun’s skin is so soft, and Chanyeol kind of… wants to slide his hands up inside Baekhyun’s shirt and see if the skin of his stomach is as smooth as the skin on his arms.
“Finished,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol’s eyes flutter open. Baekhyun is so close; there are only a few centimeters between them, and Chanyeol feels sort of like he’s about to fall off the edge of a cliff as Baekhyun licks his glossy lips.
“Yeah?” Chanyeol says, and wow, his voice comes out low, and rough, and Baekhyun visibly shudders as Chanyeol’s toes curl inside his socks. “Does it look good?”
“Yes,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol watches his lips form the word. It’s like he’s caught in a spell made of Baekhyun’s scent and Baekhyun’s strong hands, that have found his shoulders, and Baekhyun’s voice, sweet and smooth and oh-so-lovely.
Chanyeol wants to kiss him. Chanyeol is going to kiss him.
Chanyeol leans forward, just a little, and Baekhyun’s eyes go wide, and then he’s scrambling off Chanyeol’s lap, standing in front of the couch and collecting his make-up. “I’m going to go change shirts,” Baekhyun says. “You should go check it out in the mirror.” Baekhyun’s hands are in his pockets, and his eyes are darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Chanyeol.
“Right,” Chanyeol says, and he feels like his heart is going to crack his ribs and pound its way right out of his chest. He looks down at the floor and studies the toes of his socks, off-white and dirty against the clean wooden floor. “I’m just gonna…”
“You know where the restroom is,” Baekhyun says, and he closes the door to his bedroom, and Chanyeol falls back, examining Baekhyun’s ceiling.
Baekhyun had turned him down, Chanyeol realizes. It had taken Chanyeol too long to figure anything out; hell, Chanyeol still doesn’t know what he’s thinking. In the end, though, Chanyeol had leaned forward and Baekhyun had pulled away.
“What am I thinking?” Chanyeol murmurs to himself, before he stands, running a hand through his hair and walking into Baekhyun’s bathroom, with Baekhyun’s stupid pink towels and Baekhyun’s stupid rhinestone studded toothbrush. He stares at himself in the mirror, puffing out his cheeks, and admires Baekhyun’s handiwork. His eyeliner really does look good; of course Baekhyun’s practiced hand has managed what Chanyeol probably will never figure out.
He turns on the faucet and wets his hands, and then tries to flatten out his bangs and give his heart a chance to slow. When he looks in the mirror a second time, his complexion has faded to its normal color, and Chanyeol thinks his pulse might have slowed enough for him to venture back outside the bathroom.
Baekhyun is waiting at the front door, wearing a tight black t-shirt than dips low on his chest. It looks like something slutty Kai would wear, Chanyeol tells himself. Chanyeol hates Kai’s clothes, so he should hate this too.
He doesn’t.
Baekhyun smiles nervously when Chanyeol gets his attention by coughing with a complete lack of subtlety. “It looks great,” Chanyeol says. “Thank you. Suho won’t believe it.”
“You’re welcome,” Baekhyun replies. “It was my pleasure.” He slips into his shoes, and reaches over to the hanger, picking up the gold jacket. “You ready to go? You can’t be late for your own show.” The air is thick, and Chanyeol feels a little like time is moving at a drag as Baekhyun’s every movement is recording in slow motion.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He rubs his still wet hands on the back of his t-shirt, one of his newer ones, a band t-shirt they’d made last year that has a picture of a crying clown and reads Heavy Noize with a z that’s turned sideways over his left pec. Baekhyun looks amused, eyes narrowing the way they always do when he’s about to insinuate that Chanyeol looks kind of homeless, and Chanyeol’s stomach clenches at how Baekhyun’s whole face comes to life.
He’s so…
“I have towels for that,” Baekhyun says, with a shy hint of admonition, and Chanyeol snorts, half in amusement and half in relief as the strange tension is broken.
“Hell if I’m using your cotton candy towels,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun shrugs on his jacket as Chanyeol ties the laces to his Converses. Chanyeol stands, and shoves his hands into his back pockets. “Why are you wearing the gold jacket?”
“I wear it every Friday,” Baekhyun says, looking a little confused, and he ushers Chanyeol out into the hallway so he can lock up his flat. He pulls the door firmly closed, and the tiny electric lock chimes as Baekhyun secures the deadbolt. He puts the keys in his pocket, before looking up to grin sardonically at Chanyeol. “It’s my trademark, right? Gold Jacket Guy.”
“Yeah but…” Chanyeol turns, walking toward the elevator. Baekhyun jogs a little to catch up, falling into step with Chanyeol’s long-legged strides.
“But what?” Baekhyun says, and the elevator light reflects off his slightly shiny lips, and Chanyeol flashes back to Baekhyun’s weight on his thighs, and that strong, pretty hand against his cheek. It’s too hot in the lift, Chanyeol thinks. Way too hot.
“It’s just that…” Chanyeol looks away from Baekhyun, and toward the opening doors of the lift. He steps into the lobby and Baekhyun follows. “The gold jacket was just so… I’d notice you, right?”
“Yes,” Baekhyun says. “And it worked didn’t it?” Baekhyun laughs, and bumps Chanyeol’s arm with his elbow. Chanyeol thinks his smile looks a little strained, but maybe Chanyeol’s just projecting because he still can’t forget that he almost kissed Baekhyun, and it had been Baekhyun who’d pulled away.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, and it comes out hoarse, so he stops and swallows. “Yeah, it did. And now I’ve noticed you. I’m pretty sure…” He starts walking again out the doors and onto the street, because if he’s walking, he’s not fidgeting, or something equally embarrassing.
“Pretty sure about what?” Baekhyun, Chanyeol thinks, is holding his breath.
“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t not notice you, even if I tried.” His face feels like it’s burning up, and Chanyeol’s glad it’s dark out, because he doesn’t want Baekhyun to see his face. “You’re so… bright.” Chanyeol scratches at the back of his neck. “Ahhh, never mind.”
“Is that more or less embarrassing than me holding up a sign with your name on it in glitter?” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol is surprised into a laugh.
“About even,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun looks so angelic in the streetlights, just like he did the first night Chanyeol had met him, outside the entrance to MACHINE wearing that same damn jacket.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” Baekhyun says, and he speaks so softly the words almost get swallowed up by the cars and people shuffling in and out of the shops. They weave around the crowds, and Baekhyun grabs a hold of the hem of Chanyeol’s t-shirt so they don’t get separated.
“Me too,” Chanyeol says, when Baekhyun crashes into his back, stepping around a tiny girl who doesn’t even notice them. “I really- Yeah.”
Baekhyun’s answering smile is like the sun, and Chanyeol has to look away before he’s blinded.
MACHINE looks the same as always, a bunch of guys out front smoking cigarettes and smelling faintly of beer, wearing pants that are too tight, and black, thick frame glasses. Chanyeol steps past them, Baekhyun at his heels, and they walk with practiced ease into the basement, where the rest of the band is waiting.
“Hey guys,” Chanyeol says, and braces himself for the teasing that bringing Baekhyun early will cause, but everyone is strangely subdued. “Guys?”
“What’s wrong?” Baekhyun asks, leaning slightly against Chanyeol. “You look like someone kicked Sehun.”
“Kyungsoo’s lost his voice,” Kai says. “So we’re screwed.”
“Sorry,” Kyungsoo croaks, and Chanyeol winces because his throat sounds raw. “It’s the change in seasons, I think.”
“So we’ve got you, basically,” Suho says. “To carry almost all the verses.”
“No way,” Chanyeol says, taking a step back and bumping into Baekhyun, who reflexively grabs onto Chanyeol’s arm to keep from falling. “That will sound terrible.”
“We haven’t got much choice,” Suho says, and Sehun nods.
“It’s either that or we cancel the show.” Sehun plucks at a string on his guitar and sighs. “We’ve never canceled a show before.”
Chanyeol sighs and looks down at his shoes. Baekhyun’s shoes, in contrast to his, are almost new, stylish and clean.
Baekhyun. “You can sing,” Chanyeol says, looking up at Baekhyun so fast that he almost gets whiplash. “You can sing with me.”
“No way,” Baekhyun says, eye going larger than Chanyeol’s ever seen them. “Absolutely no chance.”
“But your voice is beautiful,” Chanyeol says. “And I’ll bet, since you’ve come to every show ever, you know all the words.”
“And I have crippling stage fright,” Baekhyun snaps. “I don’t perform. I’m not in your band.” Baekhyun drops Chanyeol’s arm and moves away, crossing his arms like he’s trying to protect himself from Chanyeol’s ideas.
“I bet you could sing with me,” Chanyeol says, and he grabs a hold of Baekhyun’s wrist, dragging the other man close again. “I’d be with you the whole time.”
“You and a hundred plus people!” Baekhyun says, panic sneaking into his voice. “That’s not exactly ‘starting off easy’.”
“You’re the only person that can do it,” Chanyeol says steadily, and Baekhyun wrenches his wrist free. “Please.” Chanyeol’s eyes catch Baekhyun’s, and Baekhyun’s eyes look just like they did earlier, in his apartment, when Chanyeol had leaned forward to…
“No, I can’t.” Baekhyun stumbles back. “I’m sorry, Chanyeol. I can’t.” And Baekhyun turns, running up the stairs and out onto the street.
“Better go console your girlfriend,” Kai says, shoving a cookie into his face as he talks, but Chanyeol isn’t listening, already moving to follow Baekhyun outside.
Baekhyun hasn’t gone far; he’s leaning against the wall, hands twisting in his t-shirt, eyes on the ground. Chanyeol leans against the wall next to him, close enough that their arms touch. It’s a little chilly on the early March evening, and maybe Chanyeol should’ve brought a jacket, but Baekhyun’s arm is warm, and Chanyeol presses a little closer.
“Sorry,” Chanyeol says. “It seemed like a good idea, is all.”
“It was,” Baekhyun says. “Just not something I can do.” His nails, buffed and coated in clear gloss, catch a shine from MACHINE’s sign, the dull lavender light lending to an interesting play of shadows across Baekhyun’s downcast face. “I’m just-“
“You’ve got a beautiful voice,” Chanyeol says. “And no one will ever hear it if you don’t try.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to try,” Baekhyun says heatedly. “It’s that I don’t know if I’m ready to perform in front of a crowd.”
“Look at me,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun peers up at him from under his eyelashes. Chanyeol can see the tightness of Baekhyun’s muscles in his neck, and the way his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket.
“Yeah?” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol licks his lips and turns, so he’s facing Baekhyun face to face. He reaches forward and slides the back of his hand along the line of Baekhyun’s jaw. Baekhyun’s lips part in surprise, and Chanyeol’s own heart is beating so fast it feels like he’s running a race.
“I’ll be right next to you,” Chanyeol says. “We’ll be singing together.” He lets his hand fall to Baekhyun’s shoulder, and Baekhyun shivers, and Chanyeol thinks it doesn’t have much to do with the slight gust of wind.
“Okay,” Baekhyun says, more an exhale than a word, and at first Chanyeol doesn’t register what he’s said. Then he does, and he can feel the smile tugging at his cheeks at the same time as his lips part in surprise.
Baekhyun chuckles, and Chanyeol drops his arm, rubbing up and down his bare upper arms to generate a bit of warmth. “You make the weirdest expressions.”
“So people are always telling me,” Chanyeol says with a dismissive shrug. “Nothing I can do about it.”
“I like it,” Baekhyun says. “It makes you unique.”
Chanyeol hopes Baekhyun doesn’t notice the way his hands shake as he shoves them into his pockets.
“Let’s go back inside,” Chanyeol says.
Back in the basement, Suho is talking with Leeteuk about possibly cancelling the show, and Jonghyun is sitting on the counter mixing drinks for a couple of cute girls Chanyeol’s sure he’s seen before. Sehun is still hopefully tuning, his dark eyes watching the crowd, and Kyungsoo is sitting on the edge of the stage, pouting out at the audience like it’s their fault spring has come.
Kai lets out a ”whoop” when he sees that Chanyeol’s returned with Baekhyun in tow, and he throws an arm around Kyungsoo’s neck and grins.
“Is he in?” Kai asks hopefully, and Suho looks over at them sharply.
“Yes,” Baekhyun says, mouth in a thin line and eyes looking a tad fearful. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Swell!” Suho says, and Kai throws his last cookie at him, hitting him square in the forehead.
“Swell?” Kai asks. “Seriously, did you just say swell?”
“What’s wrong with swell?” Suho asks, and he looks to Kyungsoo for help but Kyungsoo points at his throat and then waves his hands in a cutting motion.
“Nothing,” Kai says. “If you were born when ‘The Sound of Music’ came out in theaters.”
“I’m not old, you punk!” Suho puts his hands on his hips, and Chanyeol giggles, peeking over at Baekhyun out of the corner of his eye for a moment. Baekhyun’s face is tense, and Chanyeol doesn’t know how to make him relax. Chanyeol looks up at the stage, where Kyungsoo is now fooling with the mics, and watches him adjust the height of Chanyeol’s so Chanyeol doesn’t have to bend over so far to sing into it.
Tentatively, Chanyeol curls his hands around Baekhyun’s, lacing their fingers together. He keeps his eyes ahead, on Kyungsoo, but Baekhyun’s palm is soft and warm, just like it had felt along his cheek back in Baekhyun’s apartment. He squeezes it, for good measure, and holds his breath until Baekhyun squeezes back.
“Hwaiting,” Chanyeol whispers, and Baekhyun shudders and then nods.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Remember,” Chanyeol says, “I’m right here.”
Baekhyun smiles.
When the set starts, Chanyeol takes to the mic to introduce them. “How are you guys doing tonight?!” And there’s that familiar thrill of being on stage; the adrenaline rush that makes Chanyeol feel like he’s on top of the world. “We have a special guest tonight!”
Confused cheers meet his announcement, and Chanyeol laughs, low and amused, into the mic. “D.O. is sick tonight, guys. So my friend is going to sing with us. Treat him kindly; he’s a bit shy!”
And then Chanyeol is singing, and when Baekhyun joins him on the chorus, it’s a bit shaky, and then it isn’t, Baekhyun’s voice clear and strong and absolutely gorgeous, enrapturing the audience just like it had enraptured Chanyeol that time in the kitchen. Suho, Chanyeol notices, looks thrilled, and Sehun is smirking, and he can’t see Kai but it’s good, it’s all good. Kyungsoo is cheering from offstage, wide grin showing his approval. And Chanyeol looks over at Baekhyun and Baekhyun looks so alive, shining brighter than any of the stage lights, eyes glossy with amazement. He looks back at Chanyeol, and their gazes meet, and Chanyeol…
Chanyeol feels like he’s flying, soaring above the clouds, maybe all the way out in space, because Baekhyun is beautiful and glimmering next to him, terrible gold jacket and all.
When the song ends, and the crowd cheers, Baekhyun leans over and whispers “I did it!” into Chanyeol’s ear, and Chanyeol beams at him, enjoying the bright red flush that runs from Baekhyun’s face all the way down his neck and across his chest, disappearing into the ‘v’ of his tight t-shirt.
It’s almost seamless, the way everything comes together, but Baekhyun’s voice wraps around Chanyeol’s like a ivy vine, and it’s easy, Chanyeol thinks, for them to sing like this, together. He kind of wants to do it forever.
And Baekhyun, Chanyeol notices, is glowing.
After the show, Suho drops his arm across Baekhyun’s shoulder and drags him off to get water, chattering at him in a high, excited voice, and Chanyeol watches with what must be a really stupid smile on his face as they walk away. Kai slaps him in the ass with a towel to get his attention.
“You are so dumb,” Kai says. “Like, dumber than expected.” He’s drumming on his thighs with his drumsticks, all frenetic energy and sweat.
“What are you talking about?” Chanyeol says, but the sinking feeling in his gut tells him he might already know. Sehun comes up from behind and smiles gently.
“Not many guys come to shows for a whole year wearing the same jacket every time so you won’t forget them,” Sehun says. “And not many guys will come up on stage and sing despite their fear just because you ask them too.”
“I-“ Chanyeol starts to say, and then he coughs into his hand. “I know,” he admits.
“Dumbass,” Kai says again, and Chanyeol snatches the towel from him and pats at his face.
“It’s not that easy,” Chanyeol defends, and to his horror, Baekhyun pulling away from him a few hours ago in his apartment flashes in front of his eyes. “I think he might not be interested in me anymore.”
“Um,” Kai says. “I think your perm has killed all your brain-cells, and now there’s just a black hole of nothingness inside of your giant skull cavity.”
“Your make-up looks nice,” Sehun says. “Looks like it was done with a lot of care.” Sehun looks down at his bass and then peers up at Chanyeol through his fringe. “Don’t be too silly, okay?”
“What kind of maknae are you?” Chanyeol jokes, clenching his hands into fists. His body is still thrumming from performance energy, and he feels like jumping out of his own skin.
“I sometimes think Sehun might be the oldest of us all,” Kai muses, and Kyungsoo croaks out a laugh. Chanyeol winces at what his throat must feel like.
“I won’t tell Suho you said that,” Kyungsoo manages. “I think it would ruin all your trolling efforts in the future.” He turns to Chanyeol and hands him a bottle of water, which Chanyeol gratefully accepts. “Mulan.”
“What?” Chanyeol fills his cheeks with air, and Kai sighs.
“In the words of the Emperor in Mulan, ‘you don’t meet a girl like that everyday’.”
Chanyeol isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his band mates, so he settles for dumping his water over his head. It’s cold, so he yelps when some goes down the back of his shirt.
“I guess you’re right,” Chanyeol says. “Baekhyun is pretty special.” Chanyeol thinks about his smile, and the way he looks with cookie dough all over his perfect hands and on his nose and lips. Chanyeol thinks about the way the weight of his head feels in Chanyeol’s lap.
“You do have to be pretty special to think buying that jacket is a good idea,” Kai says, and Sehun smirks.
“You love that jacket,” Sehun says. “You told me so.”
“Not as much as Chanyeol does,” Kai says, making his hands into claws. It would be cute if Chanyeol didn’t want to strangle him.
“I do like that jacket,” Chanyeol says, starting to pull on his backpack, before Kyungsoo takes it from him gently. “It’s kind of bitchin’.”
“That’s the spirit,” Kai says.
Chanyeol and Kyungsoo walk up the stairs together, saying goodbye to Jonghyun who’s leaning against the inside of the front door fooling with his phone.
“Feel better, man,” Jonghyun says to Kyungsoo as they leave, and Kyungsoo thanks him with a smile, and Jonghyun steps out of their way.
Baekhyun is waiting for him.
“I’ll go on ahead,” Kyungsoo mouths, and Chanyeol nods, heart suddenly jumping into his throat.
Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, just starts walking toward his apartment, and Chanyeol follows in silence for awhile, half a step behind.
“Thank you,” Baekhyun says. “For… Just, you know. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Chanyeol replies. “We couldn’t have done it without you tonight.”
“And I couldn’t have done it without you,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol’s insides are melting under that gorgeous smile.
“You’ve got a beautiful voice.” Chanyeol scrunches his nose. “And as much as I’d like to keep it to myself, it just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Don’t be so nice to me,” Baekhyun says. “It makes me get my hopes up.”
“What?” Chanyeol asks, and somehow, he knows he should say something. That this is his chance, and he might not have another one. That Baekhyun is eventually going to get tired of this back and forth, and find someone infinitely more decisive than Chanyeol, and Chanyeol will be left with a broken heart and it’ll be all his own fault.
But the words are stuck, and Chanyeol can’t seem to make them come out.
“Well, this is me,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol looks up, and they’re back where the evening started, outside Baekhyun’s apartment building, and Baekhyun isn’t looking at him. Chanyeol can see the slight frown on his lips, and the way his reddish hair sticks to the side of his face where the bangs have grown out a little too long, and his gold eye-shadow had long since disappeared, the victim of perspiration. “See you later?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, and he’s a coward.
Baekhyun disappears inside, and Chanyeol is left outside, shivering in the wind, and maybe it seems even colder because Chanyeol can’t say what he feels. He starts walking back toward campus, where Kyungsoo will be waiting with a pot of warm water for tea, and Chanyeol can climb into his bed and wallow in his own cowardice.
Chanyeol knows exactly why he’s scared; it’s because he’s been hurt before, and hurt bad. The kind of bad that’s served as fodder for countless Heavy Noize songs; the kind of bad that makes for melancholy riffs and lyrics about shattered hearts and dreams.
But, Chanyeol thinks, Baekhyun, with his perfect smile and his bizarre sense of humor and his stupid cotton-candy-pink towels that Chanyeol refuses to use, makes him want to take a chance on love all over again.
Chanyeol stops walking. ”A girl like that doesn’t come around everyday,” he hears Kai saying in his head, and Baekhyun’s not a girl, but yeah, Chanyeol gets the point.
Chanyeol can be just a little brave.
He spins on his heel and heads back in the direction he came from, walking with purpose into Baekhyun’s building and pressing the button for the third floor.
In the elevator, Chanyeol thinks about all the reasons this is a terrible idea, and his palms start to sweat, but he bites down on his lip and charges onward.
He knocks three times on the door, and Baekhyun opens it immediately. He’s already changed into a pair of pants and an oversized tank shirt that slips off one shoulder, and he’s only gotten the make-up off of one eye, and there’s a faint hint of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth, like he’d missed a bit when he’d rinsed, and Chanyeol thinks he’s gorgeous, just like this.
“I could have been a serial killer,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun raises one eyebrow.
“I have a doorbell; you’re the only person I know that knocks.”
“Aren’t you going to let me in?”
‘Why are you here?” Baekhyun asks, and there’s a bit of bitterness in his voice that Chanyeol hates to hear, but also gives him a little bit of hope.
“Because I’m stupid, and slow, and it takes me a bit longer to get around to things than it takes other people,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun licks his lips and searches Chanyeol’s face anxiously.
“What are you talking about?” Baekhyun says, and he trips over the words, and blushes, and that’s okay, because Chanyeol’s blushing madly too.
“Let me take you out.” He blurts the words out, and Baekhyun’s hands ball up into fists.
“Why now?”
“Because…” Chanyeol takes a deep breath. “Because every time I see you, I want to kiss you. Because your smile is the last thing I think about when I go to sleep. Because you like lychee flavored bubble tea, and wear too much eyeliner all the time, and we like the same kind of music.” Chanyeol’s rambling, and he tries to stop himself but he can’t. “Because you’ve got the prettiest hands I’ve ever seen, and because they look cute covered in flour.”
“Are you-“
“Because you helped me out on my photography project when you barely knew me, and all you asked for in exchange was to treat me to lunch. Because you overcame your stage fright just so you wouldn’t let me down. Because you came alive on the stage, and I want to sing with you like that forever, whether we’re on stage or off.”
Baekhyun is staring at Chanyeol now, and his face has gone lax, like he can’t believe what Chanyeol is saying.
“Because you came every week to our shows in that stupid gold jacket, and because I must really like you because I’m starting to think that ugly thing is cool.”
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, and there it is, Chanyeol thinks. Baekhyun’s smile. “That jacket is cool.”
“I said ‘starting to think’,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t push your luck-“
And then Baekhyun is kissing him, both hands on either side of Chanyeol’s face, pushing up on his tippy toes to find Chanyeol’s mouth. Baekhyun’s lips are as warm and soft as his hands, or maybe softer, and they taste like wintergreen toothpaste and a little like tea, and Chanyeol can do nothing but surrender to them.
Baekhyun kisses him slowly, teasing him with fluttering, barely there kisses as his hands grab at Chanyeol’s biceps for balance, and Chanyeol leans down to make it a little easier. Baekhyun sighs as Chanyeol reciprocates, pressing their mouths more firmly together as his hands settle on Baekhyun’s hips, thumbs resting on the waistband of Baekhyun’s jeans. Baekhyun’s chest is pressed against his own, and Chanyeol can feel both their heatbeats as he tilts his head to the side for more access.
Baehyun’s hands tremble as they hold on, almost like Baekhyun can’t believe this is happening, or maybe like he’d just about given up on Chanyeol, who’d taken way too long to make up his mind.
Chanyeol doesn’t have any doubts now, because Baekhyun fits snugly up against him and falls into his body like he’s meant to be there; a missing piece of a puzzle sliding into place.
Baekhyun’s tongue glides lightly across Chanyeol’s lower lip, and Chanyeol opens immediately, letting Baekhyun’s tongue curl into his mouth as he gasps at the heat. Baekhyun isn’t shy, not about this, and Chanyeol gasps as Baekhyun begins to kiss him more seriously, mouth turning fierce and wet, and Chanyeol likes it; likes the way Baekhyun isn’t trying to hold himself back anymore as he explores Chanyeol’s teeth and cheeks.
Chanyeol’s knees feel like they might give out, but it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t want to stop. Baekhyun seems to sense his predicament, because now he’s pushing Chanyeol up against the hall wall, the coolness seeping through Chanyeol’s shirt as Baekhyun’s hands begin to wander, sliding down Chanyeol’s arms and finding their way to his torso, lingering along his ribs and splaying flat across Chanyeol’s belly.
This is better than singing, and better than flying, and Chanyeol’s melting and freezing and all these other conflicting things that all just add up to being mesmerized by the way Baekhyun tastes like mint and smells like the evening air, and the way Baekhyun’s every tiny touch makes him feel like he’ll turn to ashes.
It’s too much, and at the same time, it’s not enough.
Chanyeol’s own hands sink down to hook his index fingers through Baekhyun’s belt-loops to pull him even closer, and Chanyeol pulls away to kiss along Baekhyun’s cheek and down to his jaw, leaving wet lip-prints in his wake. When his mouth finds Baekhyun’s neck, Baekhyun groans, and his nails dig into Chanyeol’s sides, and Chanyeol nips him in revenge, right next to his pulse point.
He can feel Baekhyun’s shallow gasps, and he looks up, and Baekhyun meets his gaze with heavy lidded eyes, liquid and swirling with all sorts of things he’s been holding back while he waited for Chanyeol to catch up. And his make-up is only half-removed, and now his hair is a mess, too, but… His mouth is swollen and shiny, and his cheeks are flushed, and Chanyeol just wants to kiss him again and again.
“We’d probably better close the door,” Chanyeol says. “I think we might be giving your neighbors a show.”
Baekhyun laughs, a little wildly and a little crazily, and one hand comes up incredulously to touch his mouth, hesitantly pressing long fingers gently to his lips.
“Let them watch,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol laughs, loudly, as Baekhyun slams the door anyway, tiny electric chime sounding as he steps back into Chanyeol’s space, thigh sliding in between Chanyeol’s, slipping as easily as breathing back into Chanyeol’s personal space. “Took you long enough.”
“I’m here now,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun smiles, radiant, and weaves his hands into Chanyeol’s frizzy hair. “A girl like you doesn’t come along every day.”
“I’m not a girl,” Baekhyun says, and his hips press against Chanyeol’s, and yeah, Chanyeol knows that. He definitely knows that.
“It’s from- It’s a long story,” Chanyeol mumbles, losing track of the conversation as Baekhyun licks his lips, making them glossy and irresistible. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Good enough,” Baekhyun says, and he tugs Chanyeol down for another scorching kiss.
*
“Look who’s here,” Suho says, and Chanyeol looks up from his notebook, where he’s scrawling edits to his new lyrics, to see Baekhyun, in those designer jeans that he still can’t get the glitter out of, walking toward them.
Chanyeol can’t stop the horrifically soppy grin that feels like it’s splitting his face, and it doesn’t even matter that Kai’s making retching sounds in the background, because Chanyeol is totally beyond caring.
“Writing music?” Baekhyun asks, and Kyungsoo scoots over to give him room to sit down in the grass next to Chanyeol. Baekhyun collapses into the space and immediately lies down in Chanyeol’s lap, sprawling across him like an octopus, all legs and arms, and Sehun smiles when Chanyeol helplessly meets his eyes and flushes with embarrassment.
“We’re trying to rearrange a few songs,” Suho says. “Add in more parts in a slightly higher range.”
“Really?” Baekhyun asks, turning onto his side so he can look over at Suho as he speaks. Suho is sitting cross-legged on top of his empty bag, and his face is twisted into a devious expression.
“We’ve been thinking about becoming a six-member band again,” Sehun says, and Chanyeol looks up at the treetops even as his hands start to toy with Baekhyun’s hair.
“Really?” Baekhyun asks, swatting Chanyeol’s hands from his hair, maybe because he has work later and he’d spent too long getting it right in the mirror this morning. “Why?”
“There’s this guy we want to ask to join the band,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun stills in his lap. “He’s got a nice voice and we were thinking Kyungsoo could use a hand.”
“Yeah?” Baekhyun asks, and Chanyeol looks down at him. Baekhyun’s expression is filled with disbelief, but there’s a tiny spark of joy there, too, and it’s enough for Chanyeol to exhale.
“Yeah,” he says, and Suho claps and Kai cheers and Sehun offers a tiny little quirk of the lips as Kyungsoo stares into the distance with wide frightened eyes, in that way Chanyeol knows means that he approves. “So how about it?”
“What’s the catch?” Baekhyun jokes, and Suho thoughtfully strokes his chin.
“I hadn’t thought of any…” He starts to say, but then Kai interjects with a bit of his own wisdom.
“You’ll have to teach Chanyeol how to put on his own make-up!” Kai says triumphantly, and Baekhyun chuckles.
“It’s a deal,” he says, and he doesn’t break eye contact with Chanyeol even to smile at Kai.
“And,” Chanyeol finds himself saying, “you’ll have to wear that jacket every Friday.”
“Carry a glittery sign?” Baekhyun asks, teasingly, and Chanyeol smirks.
“Yes,” he says. “Otherwise I won’t feel important enough.”
“Should we leave you two alone?” Kyungsoo asks, with a voice of long-suffering. “I get enough of this back at our place.”
“No, no, sorry,” Chanyeol says, even though he’s not actually sorry, and they laugh and joke around for the rest of lunch, Chanyeol editing lyric assignments and rounding out their sound.
“It’s nice to see you happy,” Sehun says later, after Baekhyun’s left for work, and as Suho jumps on Kai’s back while Kai screams “Hey, gramps, get off!” at him, Kyungsoo watching to make sure no one gets hurt.
“It’s nice to be happy,” Chanyeol replies, and it may have taken him almost a year, but in the end, Chanyeol’s figured out at least this.
And tonight he’ll pick up take-out jjajangmyun and head over to Baekhyun’s apartment, and maybe they’ll watch kid’s television while Baekhyun tries to convince him to move in with him next year, and Chanyeol will just keep on being happy; the happiest he’s been in a really long time.
“You make me want to do some confessing of my own,” Sehun says, and he looks down at his mobile, where Lu Han’s number is flashing on the screen to indicate an incoming text.
“Good luck,” Chanyeol says, and he closes his eyes, and thinks about Baekhyun’s smile.
And everything is wonderful.
“You know, next week we’re picking out new towels,” Chanyeol adds, and Sehun chuckles. “If we’re going to live together this fall, things are going to have to be a little less shiny over there.”
“Maybe it’s me who should be wishing you luck, then,” Sehun says, and Chanyeol opens his eyes. “I’ve heard how attached he is to those towels.”
“Well,” Chanyeol says, looking up at the sky. It's cloudy, but to Chanyeol it still seems pretty bright. “I can be pretty persuasive.” He imagines Baekhyun's pout when Chanyeol gives him the ultimatum, and he thinks it'll be fun to convince him.
END
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