Chapter Text
Baekhyun staggers into the small, dingy bar; instead of his eyes drifting to the corner booth where he had sat for the past couple of nights, they land on an old piano stationary just by the few tables. His legs take him towards it and he finally allows his hands to raise the wooden cover protecting the piano keys, allows his fingers to skate over the black and white teeth. He presses on a key, which emits a soft note, perfect amidst the low hum of conversations inside the bar.
Leeteuk, the barkeep, has noticed him eyeing the piano multiple times since he'd first entered the small bar. He's even urged Baekhyun to play something on the piano if he should ever like it, nobody's paid to attention to the thing in years. Most people are preoccupied with the booze anyway, he says, and would just drop coins into the much older jukebox beside the piano if they wanted a bit of music to change the mood.
For a week since he'd first stumbled into the bar, Baekhyun has drowned his thoughts in multiple glasses of vodka. Tonight, he forgoes the alcohol for something more bitter, but perhaps more cathartic. Baekhyun sits on the piano bench and fiddles with the keys for a short while, until he decides all of them are in tuned condition. The instrument is in good playing condition, as far as Baekhyun is concerned, surprising since it looks to be very old; not broken though, only worn by time, not by use. The other people in the bar pay him no heed as he starts on a customary exercise to test his hands and fingers. He ascends octaves, gaining speed and a little bit more confidence as he familiarizes himself with the touch of the piano once again.
Reacquainting with the beloved instrument, Baekhyun muses, is decidedly harsher than a cheap shot of alcohol, ushering in the memories instead of wiping them out for the night. It reinforces thoughts of that tall guy Baekhyun has spent many, many nights with, singing to and churning tunes on the piano for. A man whose song requests were always a very wide variety of the original soundtrack of films, including the silly tunes, the ones you hum randomly when you remember it in a day, and other more random tunes. There was that one time he asked for Hedwig's Theme, another time for Jeopardy's opening music, another time for the tune of some silly toothpaste commercial, then another time for Titanic's My Heart Will Go On.
Baekhyun struggles not to get lost too much in the memories, finally deciding on a particular song he intends to play for the night. The man in Baekhyun's thoughts had only listened to an edited version of the song from a movie called The Game Plan. In the movie, the protagonist sings the replaced lyrics to his crying daughter after an argument they've had, until they finally have a chance to talk. Soldiering on in remembering the notes to the Elvis Presley original, Baekhyun lets the melody hit the air of the almost empty bar, and sings to the deepening night.
♫ Are you lonesome tonight?
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray
To a bright summer day
When I kissed you and called you ‘sweetheart?’
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
Is your heart filled with pain?
Shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight? ♫
***
Too soon, the song ends and then he is only humming the melody as his fingers drum on the wooden table, on which a third glass of whisky is perched precariously. Regrettably even his fingers have a memory of their own, retracing the path they’ve taken on the piano just moments previously. The thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky seemingly drawing do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti on the table.
The other people inside the bar gave him a warm round of applause after he had finished with the song, and when he turned to look, it was to the most approving face of Leeteuk, his eyes smug like he discovered talent himself. But Baekhyun had only felt empty, after having let out some of the burden in his chest. When the bar patrons had asked for another performance, he smiled wryly and sadly said he only knew to play one. They left him in peace as he stumbled to ask for Scotch, downing the burning liquid down in one go, in an attempt to fill the void.
Like always, it had not worked.
***
Two weeks earlier
The tragedy, Baekhyun thinks, is that he may never love again. It is inevitable, really, when you have found yourself the best possible person to love, and yet you let him slip away.
It's a fitting punishment, anyway, for abandoning the promises he had made. The only silver lining he allows to be drawn is that Yixing now has the opportunity to find someone else… someone better. With hands more adequate in preparing him food, making him eat his vegetables and not giving in to the slightest hint of groveling for junk food. With warmth more caring in shield Yixing's body that easily gets cold from what the rainy and winter seasons bring.
Someone who will bequeath proud smiles each time his boyfriend comes home saying he's crunched the numbers well at the office instead of drawing a blank at what his job entails. Someone whose feet will glide marvelously on their living room floor, hands clasped in Yixing, complementing the dancer that he is.
Someone who'll love Yixing properly, and who he'll love fully as well, affectionate words will come pouring out of Yixing’s mouth.
Baekhyun has half the mind to go live as a hermit deep in the woods where, every time he cries himself to sleep at night, no one will ever hear.
Before his next place of residence is decided upon, however, he remembers he needs to collect the last of his belongings lingering at Yixing's (not their) apartment. He relays this much to Jongdae, the only one among their shared friends who still talks to him anymore. Jongdae immediately offers to come along.
“It'll be quick, Jongdae. Only a few things left. You don't have to help—"
"I'm not doing it for your sake, Baekhyun," Jongdae cuts off sharply. He sighs, wanting to backtrack at how cold and bitter his voice had sounded. A hint of hurt flashes on the other's features, but it's erased as soon as it had been drawn. "Look, we're grateful when you took care of him when he was sick but you have to remember that you don't have to do that anymore."
You don't have to visit him anymore. You don't have the right to, now.
Baekhyun wants to reply with as much raw honesty, "I'm hurting too, Jongdae. This pains me so much as well." But no good would come of that, it'll only confuse things. So he nods his head instead and pretends he doesn't want to fall apart right then and there.
***
"Baekhyun, what on earth are you doing?"
When Jongdae comes back up to Yixing's apartment from depositing into his car the last box containing Baekhyun's possessions, it is to find the latter sprawled on his back on the cold floor by the window. With arms spread open wide, he looks as if he's attempting to draw replicas of snow angels on the pool filled by the soft rays of the setting sun. Instead of granting words, Baekhyun beckons to the space beside him and smiles.
It's that wide grin that renders a rectangular shape out of his mouth, framing his pearly white teeth, the smile Jongdae hasn’t seen in a while.
Jongdae eyes the entrance door warily, but Baekhyun's words pull his attention back. "He won't come. He— he won't come back until he knows for sure I'm out of here. I'm a ghost to him now, Jongdae. And we both know Yixing is very much scared of ghosts. So just... Humor me for a second will you?"
Jongdae concedes and walks towards the windows. Crouching and putting a hand down to steady himself to lie face-up beside his slightly taller friend, Jongdae discovers the floor quickly steals the warmth from his body. He flinches but doesn't say anything as the corner of his eyes catches Baekhyun looking like he has more to say anyway.
“I chose this unit, do you know that? It’s the largest on this floor and the most expensive. Yixing wanted to say we could barely afford too much space we have no use for, anyway. But I— I insisted, you know? It’s because of the windows.”
Guilt makes its way into Jongdae’s gut at how easily he turns his attention towards the windows, just because he is afraid of looking at his friend’s face and finding misery there that is slowly becoming palpable at the sound of his voice. For days he’d been ashamed to admit that the only reason he isn’t one of those friends who’ve started avoiding Baekhyun when he broke up with Yixing, is because he wants to tell him off, wants to be the one to show Baekhyun he’s committing a mistake.
“This is a corner apartment, see. Which means if we stood near where the perpendicular windows meet, we’d be able to see the sunrise or the sunset depending on the time of day. It’s brighter this way, more windows let the sunshine in…
“Yixing is afraid of dark places, you know?”
It has felt more that he has allowed himself to still associate with Baekhyun out of a sense of loyalty to Yixing, more than friendship with Baekhyun himself. Now that he is slowly coming to uncover Baekhyun’s pain, he wonders if there is something that could be done to stop Baekhyun from subjecting himself to this misery, especially since it’s obvious that he still cares deeply about Yixing.
“But he didn’t want this apartment, Jongdae. He said we could’ve lived somewhere else… but I— I made us both go for jobs that pay much more so we could afford to live in here. I made him leave the job he likes so much, for…” Baekhyun tosses an arm into the air to gesture around the apartment.
“I also insisted on buying a set of coasters because I thought they matched the color of our coffee table, but I sometimes forget to use them that’s why… that’s why there are coffee stains… There are prints of the coffee cup’s butt on our table!”
The laugh that strays into Jongdae’s left ear is evidently strained, but even more so is Baekhyun’s voice that comes softer than when he’s goofing around, or babbling randomly. “In our bedroom there used to be a dozen pillows—a dozen, Jongdae! I told Yixing it’s so that he could replace his pillow when it feels too hot and overused, but I hog most of the pillows anyhow or… or kick them off the bed and leave almost none for him…
“And his pet dogs, oh god— I…” Baekhyun’s voice genuinely cracks this time, as he places an arm over his eyes. “I made him give away Mongryoung and the others, because I wanted us to h-have children and I said he should devote his time only to family, to m-me…”
Jongdae finally earns the courage to take a look this time as the sobs rack through Baekhyun’s body. He looks like he’s less tall now, shrinking because of the weight of all he’s been carrying. Jongdae wants to hold his hand, wants to say sorry for the moments he’s doubted if Baekhyun ever truly loved Yixing. Because why does anyone ever decide to leave the person he claims to have loved?
He wants to impart words of comfort, but he figures he should allow Baekhyun to let it all out first.
Baekhyun does, even though he has to spill sentences wedged between his weeping and heavy breaths. “It was all about me, Jongdae… it’s… Our relationship had been all about me. I made promises… said promises, even though it was always him who made sacrifices…
“The few times he ever said I love you, it’s because I pressured him to, Jongdae. I couldn’t fucking handle that I was the more affectionate one even when I knew he only needed some time! Time to process his feelings… time to contribute to our relationship by his own accord.”
“And I’m sorry…” Baekhyun sits up abruptly and turns to Jongdae, his face free of its shield, but breaths still shackled to the intensity of his grief. “I’m sorry that after all I’ve put him through, I still l-left h-him… I still made h-him think he wasn’t doing enough…”
Jongdae pulls him into a fierce hug. It isn’t enough to wholly comfort his friend, Jongdae thinks, but he tries anyway, tries to lay a hand on the small of Baekhyun’s back and rub soothingly across.
After a few moments, Baekhyun sighs and allows himself to be comforted by another person for the first and last time.