Chapter Text
‘soaping together—
that is sacred to us.
washing each other’s shoulders.
you can fuck anyone—
but with whom can you sit in water?’
—
“You look like you don’t belong here.”
A stranger whispers against his ear, her hand lingering on his back. His body jolts at the touch, almost as if it’s trying to project the utter discomfort he has been feeling for the past hour. Baekhyun turns to the woman who snorts at his reaction. In a poor attempt to save face, he tries letting out the most pathetic laugh known to mankind, but all that slips out of his mouth is a soft, yes . That is the truth, after all. And although this woman is a stranger barely trying to make small talk, Baekhyun does not feel like lying.
He does not belong here. It was the truth.
The woman nods. “I can tell,” she says. “Why don’t you loosen up a little, huh? I’ll get you a couple of drinks.”
“Oh, no, I’m just waiting for someone.” He tries to smile, hoping to god that it would at least look a little honest. Loud music fills the crowded room as his gaze travels around, desperately searching for the familiar figure that can put his worries to an instant ease, but Baekhyun ultimately fails.
“Who did you come with?” She asks.
“Park Chanyeol.” He answers. “Do you happen to know him?”
“Are you kidding?” The woman grins. “Of course I know him! I’m pretty sure he’s at the back with the rest of the guys.”
Baekhyun frowns at her remark, almost too general for him to figure out his boyfriend’s whereabouts. The air filled with countless of strangers’ cologne mixing with the booze suffocates him as he tries to maneuver his way in the crowd, getting pushed left and right, yelling out his lover’s name to no avail.
He hates this — he despises this scene with his entire being, and it almost drives him insane to face it alone, without the one who’d brought him here in the first place. Baekhyun does not belong here, and Chanyeol is too distracted to see the truth.
—
The front door closes with a soft thud behind him. Baekhyun turns to see his boyfriend fiddling with his set of keys, mumbling curses. Chanyeol’s speech is a little slurred from all those drinks he had prior that night, but it’s nothing that Baekhyun can’t understand.
Three years in love, almost two years of living together. This was not anything that Baekhyun wasn’t used to. He was fluent in the non-verbal languages of Park Chanyeol, and right now, all Chanyeol’s body is telling him is how annoying the house keys are.
Baekhyun sighs as he takes Chanyeol's hand in his, yanking the keys off the other man’s tight grip. “Fucking hell — clockwise, Chanyeol,” he says. It comes out a little harsher than he initially intended, and deep down, he hopes that Chanyeol won’t notice his slight change of tone, but who is he kidding?
Three years in love, almost two years of living together. It should not be a wonder how Chanyeol notices the change in his demeanor almost immediately.
“What’s with the tone?” Chanyeol asks, his brows furrowed. It seems like he had sobered up a little bit, but his reddened cheeks contradict him. “Is everything okay?”
Baekhyun was not sure if it was the alcohol, or Chanyeol’s drunken stupor, or just the fact that this was one of the worst nights he had ever gone through, but those two words that came out of the other man’s mouth were enough to trigger the pent up emotions that Baekhyun has been pushing down.
And he is not sure if it was the genuine concern etched in Chanyeol’s expression, or the stark confusion in his voice, or just the slightly confused look in Chanyeol’s clouded eyes, but Baekhyun can feel the frustration bubbling in his chest.
“Oh, now you’re curious as to how I’m feeling?” Baekhyun asks, but he does not necessarily want a reply. This was not what he wanted. Not tonight.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chanyeol frowns.
“No, forget it,” Baekhyun replies, tossing his boyfriend’s keys on the coffee table. “You’re drunk, and I'm tired, so let’s just go to bed.”
“You can’t just snap at me and dismiss it just like that,” his boyfriend says. “Why do you always do that?”
“Maybe it’s just because I want you to figure it out yourself instead of me having to spoon feed you everything all the time, okay?”
There it is — the second snap. The digital clock hung on the wall shows him that it is past midnight, and Baekhyun does not want to look away. Chanyeol remains quiet, but Baekhyun can still hear his jaded breath, and this is not what he wanted. He knows that he had to bring this up somehow, some day, when he has a clearer mind to communicate his feelings clearly, and to listen to what Chanyeol had to say.
But it's too late to take a step back, he thinks, and he needs to keep going, because the look of utter perplexity on Chanyeol’s face makes his heart clench.
“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says. He makes his way to the couch, knees wobbling with exhaustion, his face hidden behind tired hands. “That party we went to just now, I didn’t—I didn’t know anyone, Chanyeol. It was the most uncomfortable two hours of my life.”
Even just simply reliving that moment makes Baekhyun’s shoulders cower in discomfort. He was never good with crowds, not even with the people he knew by heart, and to be surrounded with strangers that night in a foreign room, without anyone he knew in sight, suffocated him to an even higher degree.
Chanyeol purses his lips, his arms crossed in defense. “Is that it?” He asked. “You’re throwing a fit because you didn’t know anyone?”
The judgmental tone in the other man’s voice makes Baekhyun’s hands drop to his lap as he looks at his boyfriend with anger. “I’m not throwing a fit.” He returns.
Chanyeol snorts. “I’m sure you’re not.” He retorts, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Why else are you doing this now? If you were so bothered by that, why didn’t you just tell me at the party?”
“Because you weren't even there!” Baekhyun yells. “I looked for you everywhere—in a place where I didn’t know anyone, and I felt alone, and you weren’t there. It made me feel so fucking alienated, Chanyeol.”
“Well, I’m sorry that I was having fun with my own friends for once. Sorry that you weren’t the center of attention in a party that someone else hosted.” Chanyeol huffs. “Is that what you wanted me to apologize for?”
“No, that’s not what I meant!” Baekhyun replies, exasperated. “I was surrounded by strangers, and… and you were one of them. It was like I didn’t even know who you were when we were there. You were so different.”
“All because I didn’t hold your hand the entire time?” Chanyeol asks. “What do you want me to do, Baekhyun? You want me to parade you around my co-workers from the bar? Not everything needs to be about you!”
Chanyeol’s exclamation echoes in the quiet living room, drowning the clicking of their clock on the wall. Baekhyun shakes his head, sighing. “You’re not listening to me properly,” he says. “Let’s just go to sleep, please. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”
“Yeah, because everything has to end on your accord, right?” Chanyeol challenges him. “Or is it because only when you had to speak your thoughts out did you realize how ridiculous you sound?”
“You don’t get to dictate how I feel.” He muttered. “You really just don’t get it. And when I tried to explain it to you, you didn’t even listen.”
The clock clicks again. Two in the morning now.
Chanyeol runs his fingers through his hair with frustration. “Yeah, honestly, I don’t get it, Baekhyun,” he says. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big fuss about this.”
“You treated me like a stranger.” Baekhyun finally blurts out, his hand clenched into a pale fist. “And this isn’t the first time I felt this way.”
Chanyeol stays silent, and the longer he keeps mum, the antsier Baekhyun feels, so Baekhyun decides to keep going.
“It’s not that I want you to show me off,” he continues. “Just being acknowledged by your peers was enough for me, and I didn’t even get to have that. It just... it sucks, that’s all.”
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Chanyeol’s question comes out in a tired mumble.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal at first. I was a little hurt by it, but tonight really took a toll on me.” Baekhyun confesses. “You barely looked at me. And I felt pathetic.”
“Couldn’t you have talked to someone?” Chanyeol asked. “I’m sorry, Baekhyun, I’m really trying to understand where you’re coming from, but it’s just not making sense how affected you are by this.” He adds. “If I could make friends with yours, then why couldn’t you do the same with mine?”
“That’s not the point,” Baekhyun grits out, agitated. “Yeah, I could have made friends. I talked to a few people—one even told me that I don’t look like I belonged there—but that’s not the point. You didn’t even acknowledge me. And that hurt.”
Chanyeol shakes his head. “This just sounds so selfish of you, Baekhyun. I can’t put my attention on you at all times as if we’re at home.” He sounds like he’s laughing, like he’s mocking Baekhyun’s pain. “And the fact that you’re picking a fight with me about this in the middle of the night is just absurd.”
“I’m sorry.” Baekhyun finally lets up, shaking his head. There is no way to get his point through Chanyeol’s thick skull, and Baekhyun is tired of trying. “Sorry for bringing it up, okay? Can we just sleep it off now?”
Chanyeol looks at him for a split second before he turns away and grabs his keys again. “I need to take a breather,” his boyfriend says. “You should go to sleep first without me.”
Anxiety creeps up on Baekhyun once again as he yanks Chanyeol’s hands, forcing him to spin around. “Where the hell are you going?” He yells.
“Away from you!” Chanyeol steps back, releasing himself from Baekhyun’s hold. “I need to clear my head. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“Chanyeol, I said I was sorry.” Baekhyun begs, his heart pacing. “I won’t bring it up again.”
His pleading evidently falls deaf to Chanyeol’s ears as the man still walks towards the front door. “Don’t wait for me.” Chanyeol reminds him.
—
Baekhyun has always been a light sleeper.
In the past, he would shove his phone to brag to his peers how he deemed the alarm clock unnecessary in contrast to their long logs of morning alerts, and it’s still no different now that he is well into his late 20s, although it’s no longer something he prides himself on. As he lies flat on his back, staring at the blue ceiling, Baekhyun is beginning to consider if the ability to fall into deep uninterrupted sleep in an instant might actually now be a trait that he envies and craves for.
His hand stretches towards the nightstand, blindly searching for his dead silent phone. It’s four in the morning, and the empty notification panel seems to mock him for even bothering to check it in the first place. Baekhyun sighs, tossing his phone aside. It’s only when his hand lands on the empty side of the bed does he realize how cold the other side is, being unoccupied for hours. He’s tempted to move and carry his body to the colder side, mumbling to himself how good it would feel to free himself from the warmth of his own blanket and wrap himself with an unoccupied one.
But as much as Baekhyun tries to trick his own mind, his body somehow seems to know that temperature had nothing to do with his need to crawl to the other side of the king sized bed, for as soon as he switches sides, the leftover scent of his boyfriend’s cologne surrounds him, and Baekhyun fights the urge to cry.
He inhales as if to quench his thirst and loneliness, gripping the bed sheets tight in his fists. Still, the lingering scent of Chanyeol on the colder side is enough to finally put him to sleep.
He does not know how many minutes or hours have passed since he fell asleep, but his awoken mind registers the press of cigarette-stained lips against his dampened cheek. “You’re on my side of the bed again.” Comes a chuckle.
Baekhyun’s eyes flutter open, his tired hands grasping for the warmth of his estranged lover. “You’re home.” He croaks, and feels the nodding of Chanyeol’s head in his hands. “Where were you?”
“I was just out,” Chanyeol says nonchalantly, as if he did not walk out on Baekhyun just a few hours before. As if he did not tear Baekhyun apart when he left. His breath reeks of alcohol and tobacco, and his shirt smells like a mixture of his obnoxious friends’ cologne.
“My phone died and I lost track of time.” He adds.
Baekhyun simply hums. As his tired eyes lay on his boyfriend’s face, studying every corner of Chanyeol’s jaw, up to his mouth, the sharp bridge of his nose, crawling up to Chanyeol’s hooded eyes, Baekhyun realizes that the Chanyeol’s presence no longer fills the bed with his usual comforting warmth. He realizes that he could have been sleeping well, not staying up with dread, waiting for someone who is unaffected by their temporary separation. Someone who is okay with going to bed with unresolved resentment. Someone who runs away to avoid facing the truth.
“I’m sorry.” Comes the expected apology. Chanyeol presses his lips on Baekhyun’s cheek as a weak attempt to win him over again, but Baekhyun is overcome with absolute exhaustion.
He can’t do this anymore.
“I’m so tired of this, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun finally says.
A final kiss between Chanyeol’s furrowed brows, and Baekhyun pulls away for good.
“I’m so tired of you.”
ex complex
i. my house is not a home
Chanyeol still won’t look at him. Understandably so.
Perhaps that was for the best. Baekhyun still does not quite trust his own judgment at the moment. He stood on firm ground last night, when the silence of the night was bombarded with Chanyeol’s endless questions and protests, claiming how he was blindsided by Baekhyun’s sudden request. But as morning light comes, and the sun sneaks in between the gaps of the curtains to greet Chanyeol’s face, Baekhyun is now filled with fear of abandoning what belongs to him.
“I’m staying,” Chanyeol says after a while. “I get the apartment. It’s only fair.”
Baekhyun pauses. “Fair?”
“You ended it, not me. You should be the one to leave.”
“You’re saying it like it was easy for me to just end things.” Baekhyun replies. His vision turns blurry as he feels water pooling under his eyelids. “It wasn’t.”
“Well, to me, it seems like it was.” Chanyeol argues. “Seems to me like you had it all figured out on your own, since you made this huge decision without talking to me about how you truly felt.”
“You have no idea how difficult it is for me to do this, Chanyeol. Not when I still love you so much.” Baekhyun fights the urge to cry. “But you never want to fix things, and I’m sick of repeating myself.”
“You don’t get to dump me and get the apartment — fuck no, Baekhyun. You can come get the rest of your things when I’m not around.”
“Okay.” Baekhyun finally relents. “Good luck paying for the full rent with your bartender salary.”
He’s filled with regrets as soon as those words escaped his mouth, but by the look on Chanyeol’s face, he knows he can’t take it back now. He didn’t know what came over him, to suddenly patronize the man he loves, to say things that held no meaning but was too sure to stab Chanyeol in the chest. Baekhyun knows that he should just get out of there before he hurts them both any further than this.
“You’re hard to love, you know that?” He hears Chanyeol say before he leaves. “You make it so fucking difficult to love you.”
The air feels cold on his face when he slams the door shut. His knees buckle the moment his back hits the closed door, and he no longer has the strength to stand. It does not matter if the thin walls between the cold outdoors and their once shared home allowed Chanyeol to listen to his cries — Baekhyun finally surrenders to his sobs, unable to contain them any longer after shoving them down when he saw Chanyeol’s piercing gaze earlier.
The weight on his shoulders that he had expected to magically lift itself once he broke himself free from the bounds of his old relationship remains heavy, or perhaps even heavier, knocking him down as he slides down to the floor.
—
“This is not usually the place people come to mourn their relationship.”
Baekhyun stares at the fresh cup of tea placed in front of him and the wrinkled hand that slides him a sweetener packet.
His landlord, Mr. Jung looks at him with pity as he takes a seat beside him. “Most people just come here to pay their rent in cash, or to return their keys.” He continues. “You caught me by surprise when you appeared looking like you’ve not had a wink of decent sleep.”
He tries to give the man a proper smile, although it most probably looks wobbly—Baekhyun himself could feel his lips trembling at the sight of the older man. He does not know what is exactly wrong with him, but being in the presence of a man close to his father’s age somehow makes him feel even worse. Like a taunting reminder of the questioning, clueless people Baekhyun has to face after his sudden break up. And Baekhyun’s parents loved Chanyeol, absolutely adored him, so how exactly will he be able to break the news to them without falling apart once again?
Reaching out to Mr. Jung might be a good start, he thinks.
“I am here to give my keys back,” Baekhyun replies, his face hidden in his hands. “Just after I get all my stuff out of that house and leave that apartment complex forever.”
The mere thought of having to move out shoves another weight onto his shoulders as Baekhyun dwells on the burdening process of it all. But it wasn’t like he didn’t expect Chanyeol would insist on keeping the place. Deep down, Baekhyun slightly expected it, knowing just how much the two of them loved their little home, but it does not mean he doesn’t get to feel upset seeing how his ex-boyfriend left him no room to fight for the apartment unit that Baekhyun himself chose in the beginning.
“It’s not fair, Mr. Jung—and you should take my side on this—I was the one who wanted to rent that house, remember? It’s closer to my office, it’s quiet and it has the best pizza joint right nearby. Chanyeol doesn’t even eat pizza, so why does he get to keep the place?” Baekhyun argues. “The bar he works at is almost ten minutes away on foot. He could’ve looked for tons of other apartments to rent in that area. But since I broke up with him, I’m the one who gets exiled like a villager who committed some kind of treason and he doesn’t have to move a single step out of the house.”
“As your landlord, I don’t mind anyone who lives there, as long as they keep the house clean and pay their rent on time.” Mr. Jung says.
Baekhyun’s hands fall to his lap as he glares at the older man. “Didn’t I mention that you’re supposed to take my side?”
His landlord snorts, then lightly taps Baekhyun’s cheek as if to put some sense into him. It almost reminds him of when he was reprimanded by his father back in the day.
“Seeing how shaken you are by this, I think Chanyeol’s decision might be the correct one.” Mr. Jung replies. “And I’ve got to say, I’m also surprised Chanyeol chose to stay. I don’t think anyone should live in the same space they shared with someone they once loved.”
Baekhyun blinks. The older man might be right.
“Then again, I’m not one to complain as long as rent is paid on time.”
“I’ll cover him for this month,” Baekhyun mumbles. “Don’t let him worry about it. He already hates me as it is, because I mocked his job.”
“You careless kids never consider the consequences of the things you say anymore.”
“I’m still sad to say goodbye to that house,” Baekhyun says. “Didn’t even get a chance for a proper parting with my favorite stovetop either, since I was practically chased out of there.”
He stares at Baekhyun quietly before he sighs, then stands up to leave the dining room. The sudden moment of isolation gives Baekhyun the chance to fully look around as his eyes shamelessly scan the old man’s house.
Family portraits filled the cream colored walls surrounding him. The bigger one with Mr. Jung holding his wife’s hand managed to soften Baekhyun’s gaze as he makes his way towards the kitchen. Two plates, two bowls, two spoons placed on the counter, ready to get picked up in one convenient swoop. Two cups on the drying mat, and the rest are kept neatly in the cupboards.
The sight of it all reminds him of his now former home. The thought of Chanyeol having to keep Baekhyun’s favorite plate, his bowl and that crooked spoon that he likes so much, shoving them to the furthest back of the upper cabinet tugs at his heart strangely. He should probably take all of them with him and keep them hidden in his new rental house soon—somehow that is a softer jab to the chest for him.
“Here.” Baekhyun hears Mr. Jung say.
A light sound of jangling keys accompanies the man’s words. “In the 90’s, I bought two units in that apartment complex for both my daughters, so they could live closeby once they decide to start their own family.” Mr. Jung grabs his hands, placing the keys on his palm. “They’re both enrolled in medical school in the United States, so they won’t be needing a house in Seoul for the time being.”
Baekhyun stares at the set of keys in his hands, water pooling around his eyes again. God, what in the hell has gotten into him today?
“You’re saying—I don’t have to find another apartment?” He sniffles. “Is it really okay?”
“That should be my question to you.” Mr. Jung answers. “I can rent it out to you for a few years, or until you find another decent house close to your job, but only if you are okay with living in the same building as your nemesis. Different floors, fortunately.”
“He’s not my nemesis.” Baekhyun mumbles.
Mr. Jung shrugs. “You might be his.”
“As I suspect, you’re not on my side.” Baekhyun huffs. “Mrs. Jung would’ve had my back, no questions asked.”
“I only care for the peace and cleanliness of my houses, kid.” His landlord laughs. “And if neither you nor Chanyeol could oblige, I’d have no choice but to chase the both of you out.”
Baekhyun tightens his grip on the keys, contemplating.
“I think we will be okay.”
—
The thing people do not usually tell you when it comes to ending a long term relationship is that everything changes, yet simultaneously, almost everything remains the same. Or at least Baekhyun certainly feels that way. He will still be walking home using the same route he had been using for years, but this time, without the company of a gentle hand leading the way.
He will still see the same friends, and risk meeting the cause of his heartbreak in the same space because they’re Chanyeol’s friends too. If Baekhyun were to exclude the endless gut-wrenching pain he feels, and the countless nights he will spend staying wide awake, he would say that not much will change.
Baekhyun takes his time to roam about his new space. The white, gleaming walls absorb the amber sunset almost naturally, shapes of moving clouds blending in like glued-on wallpaper. The lone dangling suncatcher hung on the curtain rails pulls a small smile from him. A thin layer of dust sticks to his palm as he touches the window.
He is now on a higher floor than his previous home, and albeit just slightly higher, he notices that the view from the balcony is a little nicer. Being on the twenty-ninth floor now—only three floors further up than before—meant that he would have to stand in the elevator for about ten seconds longer, for as long as Baekhyun wishes to stay in the house, and the thought of it makes him squirm. Baekhyun has never really been a patient guy.
The fully furnished house that Mr. Jung had rented out to him resembles his old one, given its similar layout, although it still lacks the significant warmth that his old home provided. It wasn’t the cornflower blue ceiling or the tiny plants growing by the window that made his house a home. Even if he tries to replicate it, to take a few days off work and decorate the place to his liking, to copy his exact memories of the old cocoon, there will always be some things missing.
The pure silence is what strangely bothers him. Baekhyun’s ears grow deaf to the faint sound of cars in traffic down there, or the flock of birds above. The silence of his new home echoes through the empty rooms, through the plateless kitchen and the unlit hallway, clear of carelessly thrown shoes. He is now without a nagging mouth by his ear telling him where the perfect place for the vases should be, and without a teasing hand wandering up his sweater. The silence only reminds him of the kisses peppered on his neck, accompanied with a deep chuckle.
Only a fool would try to live alone in an empty vessel of his former home shared with someone he loved. And right now, Baekhyun has never felt more idiotic to think he could actually do it.
The couch is cold when Baekhyun throws himself on it, face first on the dusty surface. He turns on the television as an attempt to fill the silence and an old rerun of a comedy show that he never quite liked starts to play on the screen. The crowd’s roaring cackles over a mediocre punchline surround the living room, but instead of grimacing at the comedian’s poorly delivered jokes like he used to do, Baekhyun is relieved to finally replace the deafening silence that serves as a reminder of his new solitary life with a sound of something. Anything.
Still, he fails to drown the thoughts of Chanyeol’s laughter, loud and distinctive from the tv crowd. And before he falls into a deep sleep from the sheer exhaustion that his body carries, Baekhyun wonders if he could be able to pry open the balcony windows and strain his ears just to listen to the actual laughter again.
—
The past few days had Baekhyun in a turmoil. It almost felt as if he had purposely shoved himself on an endless rollercoaster of unstable emotions, sitting shotgun in a barely secure seat that swings him back and forth between a state of total devastation over the loss of his relationship and the sheer anger he has over himself and Chanyeol for not being able to figure things out without spouting meaningless hurtful words to one another. Ridiculously enough, the only way he managed to get off the ride, though temporary, was by putting the entirety of his focus on his job.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
A low voice greets him as soon as he steps foot into the breakroom and Baekhyun fights the urge to groan. “Hi,” he simply replies, and wastes no time to head towards the pantry.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” his co-worker says behind him. Baekhyun is unsure if co-worker is even the right term for it. Kwon Woojin was merely a colleague, a man who works in a separate department of the office yet spends his time loitering around Baekhyun’s department floor. And if Baekhyun was honest with himself, he could barely recall seeing Woojin working on something else other than the coffee machine.
Baekhyun turns to face the other man with a frown. “You didn’t ask one.”
“Oh, right,” Woojin replies. “Where have you been?”
“Does it really matter to you?”
“No, not really.” The man shrugs. “But I noticed the free cookies didn’t run out as quickly as they did when you were around, so I had a feeling that you might have been absent.”
“That’s funny, ‘cuz whenever you’re away, I’d notice that your department gets more work done.” Baekhyun deadpans.
The other man laughs despite Baekhyun’s remark that he wholeheartedly intended to deliver with utter seriousness. The mere sound of it almost triggers a throbbing headache.
“You might be right about that.” Woojin shakes his head with a grin. “Are you going to Mrs. Kim’s farewell party tonight at that barbecue place?”
Baekhyun grabs the paper cup out of the cabinet, throwing a judgemental look towards his co-worker in the process. “Why would I? She’s not even in my department.” He frowns. “Don’t even remember what she looks like.”
“Ouch.” Woojin hums. As soon as Baekhyun places his cup on the old coffee machine, he sees the other man pressing the button he was about to reach for. “Hot mocha,” the man says. “Right?”
“Yeah.” Baekhyun mumbles.
“I hope you remember this face once it’s time for my farewell party in the future,” Woojin says, pointing to himself. “Someone who remembers your coffee preferences.”
“It’s either the hot mocha or the gray-looking flat white since the rest of the options don’t work.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. He’s wasting his precious break time. “And barely anyone chooses the flat white. You’re not some rocket scientist for figuring that out.”
“You got me.” Woojin chuckles. The coffee machine finishes pouring Baekhyun’s drink with a ring and he snatches the cup before his irritating co-worker could have the chance to. The heat greets the palm of Baekhyun’s hand in no time and makes him wince, but he tries to not make it too obvious. He’s had enough of being ridiculed for the day—another addition to his ongoing turmoil—and he makes a mental note to order his coffee from a delivery service next time.
But he doubts that his reaction to accidentally almost burning his palm goes unnoticed as he watches Woojin snort in amusement.
“See you around, Byun.”
“You won’t.” He mutters.
It’s only when he no longer sees Woojin in his sight does Baekhyun finally let his guard down and place the steaming cup back on the counter. He washes his reddened hands with a grunt.
This was what Baekhyun has hated about working for a job that requires a certain level of friendliness and recognition just for the sake of maintaining peace. He could never be good at it even if he tries his best to do so, and maybe that is what makes him have a perception towards people that is so different from what Chanyeol has.
Because Chanyeol has always been good at this—entertaining people with his stories and charming them with his wit. That was initially what made him win Baekhyun over in the past. Even before they began seeing each other romantically, Chanyeol has always had a certain likable trait about him that one can’t just simply ignore, and just like the rest, Baekhyun falls victim to Chanyeol’s way of turning himself into one of the most significant people in his life. It didn’t take long for his ex-boyfriend to befriend Baekhyun’s friends too, and Baekhyun is almost certain that his childhood friend, Sehun might even consider Chanyeol as his closest friend and Baekhyun has possibly fallen into second place.
Park Chanyeol’s warmth and unconditional acceptance towards others is what makes him whole, that much Baekhyun already knows. But as the years go by, Baekhyun also had to watch himself be placed lower, and lower, and lower on his selfmade ranking of Chanyeol’s priority list. It tears himself apart to know that despite the status he had as Chanyeol’s other half, that term had gradually lost its true meaning.
It pains him to experience it firsthand, how their weekly date nights had to be shared with a party with Chanyeol’s friends where all of them, including Baekhyun, would compete to be the center of Chanyeol’s attention. And it pains him even more to know that he hadn’t ever won.
But Baekhyun knows that Chanyeol genuinely does not understand his point of view—the need to be acknowledged as someone of great importance in each other’s lives whenever they are with their friends, or even strangers. He’s aware that it might be a selfish trait on his part, to want to always be a priority in Chanyeol’s eyes even when they are in a setting where it’s not necessarily needed, like at that party on the night Baekhyun had reached his final straw.
That very night remains as the most isolated and unwanted he has ever felt. He became invincible to the eyes of many, including his beloved, and that night serves as a reminder as to why he needed to break away from the relationship. He has tried to bring it up before, but on more than one occasion, Baekhyun would always have his worries put to sleep when Chanyeol defended himself.
To Chanyeol, love is private, and he had always made that very clear. There was no longer room for reconsideration.
Ever since he last saw Chanyeol, the phrase difficult to love follows him everywhere he goes, hovering over his head like a satirical halo, sticking to his back like gum.
Chanyeol is loved by many, and Baekhyun is unable to describe himself in the same way.
The sound of Baekhyun’s work timer knocks him out of his reverie. He glances at his cup of mocha, now cold and tepid, abandoned to the side, overshadowed by the basket of mini muffins next to it.
And when Baekhyun tries to take a sip, he finds his coffee rather difficult to swallow.
—
Four weeks after his break up, Baekhyun finds himself missing his old belongings. The irreplaceable ones. He had repurchased almost all of his daily use items he could think of, and also the things that would deem him irrational if he were to march over to Chanyeol’s house and snatched it all back—like his old bath towels and the weakly lit bedside lamp that he thrifted a couple years ago.
But things don’t quite feel right when he duplicates his existing belongings just to build an exact replica of his comfort space. The new wool blanket he bought last week wasn’t as frayed as his old one, and it doesn’t envelope his body the way the old one used to.
So here he is — standing in his ex’s apartment on a Friday night. Baekhyun has long memorized Chanyeol’s work schedule at the bar, the image of the halfheartedly designed sheet still prominent in his mind. Friday used to be one of those nights Baekhyun spent sleepless, staring at that ugly cornflower blue ceiling of theirs, and he knows for a fact that Chanyeol will only come home by midnight, or later than that. He has a few hours to spare.
Kyungsoo drops a box filled with Baekhyun’s favorite books on the floor, groaning as he stretches his arms. “I feel like we’re committing a crime,” he says. “I’ve never seen a case of looting before, but I’m pretty sure that this is the exact definition of it.”
Sehun nods from the opposite side of the living room. “We’re definitely trespassing.”
“Shut up, we are not trespassing.” Baekhyun retorts. “I’m the one who paid for the rent last month and I didn’t steal these damn keys from anybody.”
“But this still feels kind of wrong. I know he told you to get your stuff when he’s away, but shouldn’t you at least text him?” Kyungsoo asks.
“Kyungsoo, that guy barely spared me a glance the last time we talked. Chanyeol wouldn’t even want to talk to me even if I reached out for help.” Baekhyun mumbles. “He hates me. I broke up with him, remember?”
“I still can’t believe that bastard didn’t tell me about it.” Sehun huffs as he pulls on the coffee table’s drawers. That was where Baekhyun and Chanyeol kept the old pictures from their younger days, and Baekhyun isn’t so sure who gets to keep all of those memorabilia now.
“Did you know we even met up for lunch last week?” Sehun continues. “And he said nothing about this. He seemed so… okay.”
The younger man yelps when Kyungsoo leans over to pinch his arm. “What? It’s true!”
“He seemed okay?” Baekhyun’s brows creased. “He really didn’t tell you anything?”
“You didn’t tell us, either.” Kyungsoo interjects him. “Took you weeks to give me a call.”
“That’s because I wasn’t okay,” Baekhyun says. “I needed some time to myself. I couldn’t even think of Chanyeol without wanting to cry my eyes out, and I definitely couldn’t talk to anyone about it yet.” He swallows the bile in his throat. “But I’m glad to hear that Chanyeol seems okay.”
“You don’t know that for sure. Consider the source, Baekhyun.” Kyungsoo looks at him pointedly. “Just because Sehun thinks Chanyeol looks like he was doing okay, that doesn’t mean that Chanyeol is handling it well. Plus, Sehun isn’t even a good observer of people.”
“Keep my name out of your mouth,” Sehun replies, chucking a throw pillow towards the other man. “But he’s right, Baekhyun. Forget about what I said. Knowing how Chanyeol usually is, he probably didn’t wanna do anything to jeopardize the friend group.”
“Yeah, his biggest priority is to maintain a good image in front of his friends, that much I’m definitely aware of.” Baekhyun mumbles.
“Baekhyun…” Kyungsoo lets out an exasperated sigh. “If you felt like you couldn’t talk to Chanyeol about what you were going through, I wished you would’ve at least just told me how you felt at the time. Suppressing all those emotions alone is not good for you,” he says. “It builds up so much resentment over time. I’m not here to choose sides, because I love you both, but it does seem a bit unfair to Chanyeol, don’t you think?”
“You don’t get it either.” Baekhyun chuckles bitterly as he shakes his head. “Honestly, I’m a little tired of having to explain myself all the time, so can we just have this conversation another day?”
Kyungsoo stares at him intently before he nods with pursed lips. “Yeah, I think we should head back before Chanyeol gets home.” He approaches Baekhyun with a small smile, picking a lone dust settled on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “You look like you could use a few hours of sleep.”
“Yeah, I haven’t been doing well at the office, either.” Baekhyun nods. “I try my best to separate my personal situation with my professional job, but sometimes these thoughts still manage to filter through.”
“You’ll be okay.” Kyungsoo replies. “I know the two of you like the back of my hand. Even if things didn’t work out for the both of you as lovers, once you forgive each other, I’m sure the two of you return to being friends.” He adds. “You’ve been friends before, and you can do it again.”
Baekhyun shows the other man a weak smile, not wanting to press further and tell Kyungsoo the extent of his doubt.
“Hey, Baek?” Sehun calls out for him, still kneeling over the scattered photo albums. “Should I bring these back to your place too?”
Their old photos stare back at him like a screaming reminder of what Baekhyun has willingly thrown away. He picks up a picture of him in Chanyeol’s embrace, grinning wide at the camera as Chanyeol kissed his cheek, his full face out of view.
“Separating your things after a break up can be such a hassle.” Baekhyun tries to joke. He laughs quietly, but he’s a little too tired to put on a smile. He hands the picture back to Sehun and makes up his mind. “I’ll keep this one and that red album over there, but I think I’ll just leave the rest here for now. Let it be Chanyeol’s burden.”
They wrap up quickly once they realize how much time has passed. Two boxes each in their arms, stacked together, and Baekhyun almost immediately expects Sehun to whine about the weight of it.
It was certainly heavy, wasn’t it? Especially for one person to bear all by himself. Baekhyun finds himself regretting not reaching out to his support system much sooner, wondering to himself why he even considered the possibility of feeling ashamed if he told them the truth.
Amidst another one of Sehun and Kyungsoo’s usual bickering, Baekhyun picks up the sound of jangling keys and a faint burst of laughter from the outdoor hallway. His heartbeat quickens as the door swings open and he sees a familiar figure retracting in. Baekhyun is unable to see his face, though, as Chanyeol enters backwards, his arms wrapped around the body of a stranger who is leading him inside as if he already knows where to go. They smile even when their mouths are latched together, breathing chuckles into each other, and it only takes for Baekhyun to drop the photo album in his hand, his heart following suit as it falls with a thud, for them to realize they were not alone.
Chanyeol’s widened eyes meet with his in a silent hush, and Baekhyun feels as if he is glued to the floor.
“Baekhyun…” He whispers. “What are you doing here?”
With his pathetic boxes still in his arms, Baekhyun shakes his head, not being able to come up with a single word. Kyungsoo is the one to speak first, but Baekhyun’s ears can only hear the sounds of his own breathing. He does not recognize the man whose hands are still holding onto Chanyeol, but the stranger’s stunning brown eyes staring back at him with confusion already have him looking down in an instant, until Baekhyun starts to stammer.
“I-I have to go.” Baekhyun’s attempt to talk comes out in a stuttered rasp.
He can’t, for the life of him, figure out how to breathe. He has to get out of there.