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“Hello?"
“God, oh God, thank you!” A rushed voice, filled with uncertainty, although young and as fresh as spring breeze, erupts from the device. Chanyeol has to blink twice as if that breeze just ran all over him.
“Who is this?”
“You don’t know me, well I don’t know you, for what it matters, but something happened to me and you’re literally the only one who picked up the phone. Fuck, I tried with all my friends and even my grandmother who lives on the other side of South-Korea so there’s only so much she could have done, but you know, bad fucking luck.”
The line is often interrupted by static noises, however, he can easily hear the voice now gasping for some air.
“Care to explain the problem?” Chanyeol hopes this isn’t one of the pranks that seniors use to do to any harmless student at fuck o’clock who is just trying to get some sleep and to get through the year without murdering someone. Chanyeol isn’t sure if he has the nerve to be teased, right here, right now. Yet, he glances down at his half-written essay due to the next week and decides to put aside his laptop.
Student Park Chanyeol adds this to his long list of bad decisions of his scholastic career.
“Yes, sorry.” Then a pause which lasts a mere second before once again the stranger is vomiting words on him. “You see, it’s all my car’s fault. Well, perhaps it’s mine because I never take it to the mechanic, so of course it would die the day before my mom’s wedding. Or maybe it’s just the fact that the car is a hundred years old, for instance. But I had to find a solution because my mother wanted to see me again so bad that I accepted taking part of this hours-long farce where my relatives sure as hell would’ve asked when it’s gonna be my turn to marry someone, even though I’m still very much young. Oh, I missed the damn wedding, by the way. But I asked my friend if I could borrow his car, and he said there was no problem, so I was like hell yeah, I don’t even have to pay for gas. But, hey, don’t get me wrong, I swear I’m not some broke ass bitch, it’s that I already paid a shit load of money for a suit and a gift, and there was also this nice jacket that I had to… Anyway, this is not the point. The point is that everything is ready, I’m in the car, suit on and all, when, after what I think is half an hour of driving, this stupid useless thing makes a noise and stops in the middle of fucking nowhere. And, err, I found your number on a piece of paper in the car with a bad written and blurry ‘don’t forget to save Yeol’s number’ or something.”
Chanyeol listens as the person sighs in defiance. In all honesty, he has never met – well, not actually met, in this particular case – in his whole life someone capable of fitting all these words at once. He himself sure is a loquacious person, his friends use to tell him everytime, but this, the scared Bambi with a sailor mouth on the other side of the line, is on an entire other level. He suppresses a smile, because he doesn’t want to look a rude asshole that laughs about other’s misfortunes. “Okay, first of all, try to take a deep breath.”
“I would, if only this fucking tie wasn’t blocking all the damn air in my lungs. Let me just…” There is a muffled sound of fabric slithering on other fabric. Then a relieved sound, much nearer to Chanyeol’s ear. “Sorry, I’m back.”
“Are you still in the car?” Chanyeol, with his essay long out of his mind and on the verge of a headache, should have ended the conversation a while ago, the stranger’s frantic tone as a ringing bell; instead, he chooses to wait with anticipation the other’s words. It is past midnight and even if the stranger on the telephone is supposedly in a place where no one can harm him – only because there is no one, period –, Chanyeol can’t avoid feeling the concern growing at the bottom of his stomach. He shakes the thought out of his head, blaming the way the other sounds so, so vulnerable.
“I am. Please don’t make me get out to find help,” cries out Bambi with such a tiny voice. If Chanyeol didn’t know that the other is in his car, so he has a driving license and therefore has to be at least a legal adult, he would assume to be talking with a kid. Chanyeol exhales a breath, thinking about how little of help he is right now. He has never had problems with his car, but this only because he never drives enough to actually break it. “Hold on, I’m picking up my laptop.”
“This really isn’t the time for porn videos, Mr. Stranger.”
This time, Chanyeol lets out a laugh, the image of a kid quickly slipping away from his mind. He is now picturing a twenty-something-year-old, big scared eyes and a serious problem with his brain-mouth filter. “That’s exactly what I was going to do. I wasn’t even thinking of googling, you know, solutions for your car.”
“Oh.”
“What, did the cat steal your tongue?”
The other hisses. Like, honest to god hisses. “Of course not. I was just asking myself how I managed to pick the most useless of Jongdae’s friends.”
“Hey! At least I’ve got a good idea, thank you very much.” His fake pout can be heard though the device. And of course, Bambi is Jongdae’s friend, who isn’t in the whole campus, or even Seoul?
The image of the playful guy with kind eyes and a Cheshire cat smile comes to his mind almost immediately. He remembers that they met when he was only a freshman and Kim Jongdae was already in his junior year; they sometimes find each other in the library or even hang out, to talk about common interests or sharing campus gossip. Chanyeol knew about Jongdae’s crush for Minseok when it was just a crush, before blossoming in what it is now; Jongdae knew about that date with a young French literature professor that went horribly wrong. He tries to picture Bambi, too, his mind already focused on remembering each one of Jongdae’s friends. After a few attempts, he eventually gives up with a shrug. “Listen here, you have to check if there’s smoke coming out of the car.”
“The hell I get out of here.”
“What if the car explodes?”
“Jesus Christ, can you please not? I’m a hundred percent sure I just saw a shadow outside the windshield so it’s either exploding with the car or being cut into pieces by a serial killer.”
Chanyeol covers his mouth, but his laugh is loud and clear in his voice as, “All right, all right, Bambi.”
There is another pause, this time longer than the other ones, so the smile on Chanyeol’s lips falters, to give place to a wrinkled forehead. “Hello? Don’t tell me there seriously was a serial killer outside the car.”
“What did you just call me?” The stranger asks, out of the blue. Chanyeol senses the curiosity and the amusement in the tone.
“Nothing, please sir, stay focused on your car, would you?” He can feel the rush of blood to the tip of his ears, which are on fire. That’s the main reason why he doesn’t have a boyfriend: his awkwardness and stupid jokes keep them all away. Or it might be his enormous ears and disproportionate stature, who knows.
Instead of hanging up, Bambi laughs; a crystalline sound right in Chanyeol’s eardrums. He stops breathing for a moment, to saviour and listen to it all. He never felt so enamoured with a laugh, before.
“I’m super focused, sir mechanic. What’s next?” The smile is still on his lips, Chanyeol can ear it. This only makes his cheeks gain colour, too, and his heart do a couple of jumping jacks. He puts a hand on it and calm the fuck down, dude.
“Y-you could try and turn the engine on once again and tell me what it does,” he stumbles upon his words, feeling like a five year old dealing with a first crush.
“Yessir.”
He hears a small puff through the line, followed by a grunt of protest, then the silence again. “This motherfucker did the same exact thing. I’m not even sure I’m in Seoul anymore, this could easily be the setting of a horror film. That’s it, at the tender age of twenty-one my life is coming to an end. Please Mr.Stranger, tell to that ass twat of Jongdae that my ghost is going haunt him forever.”
Chanyeol chuckes again, his hand still on his chest and feeling the vibration. “Pretty little ghost with a sailor mouth; I could write a book about it.”
“Do you write?” He is also muttering that he is not little, his height is exceptionally average, he read it somewhere once.
“On my spare time, yes. Mostly children’s book, but you would be the main character of a nc-17 rated book.”
Bambi lets out of an embarrassed giggle. Even though Chanyeol prefers his whole, heartfelt laugh, to his ears this one sounds just as adorable. “I promise that I’m not usually like that.”
“And how are you, usually?” The pretend casual tone is anything but casual. He’s way too curious about this guy, whom he doesn’t even know the name.
“Definitely nicer with strangers with a lovely voice.”
Now it is Chanyeol’s turn to be out of words. He coughs a little and “Have you tried turning on the lights?” asked, ignoring his roommate that is loudly snoring on the other side of the room. Chanyeol should have done the same because the bright red numbers of his alarm clock are telling him it is way past his usual sleep time. He rather prefers staying up to listen to a complete stranger with a cute laugh blabbering on the other side. Typical Chanyeol.
“Err, have now.”
“Feeling any better, hyung?
“Uh-uh, but still not getting out. Wait, hyung? How old are you?”
“If I were you, hyung, I’d me more concerned about being stuck in an isolated street than about my age.”
Bambi, on the other side of the line, ceases talking, and Chanyeol mentally slaps himself for scaring him again. “I’m nineteen,” so he says, providing a distraction.
“Wait a minute!” Exclaims the other, forgetting about darkness, broken cars and serial killers, just like Chanyeol was hoping. “Wait a goddamn minute.”
“What?”
“I know you!”
“You do?”
“I do! Your that pret… cut… I mean you’re that guy in junior year that hangs with Jongdae with the longest legs I've ever seen and ears that look-”
“Like Yoda’s,” finishes the sentence Chanyeol, with a loud sigh. There you go, every chance of getting to know the other, and maybe, who knows?, get a date getting shattered in billion pieces. He brings a hand to face because he shouldn’t be thinking about such stuff. A date? What’s next, an engagement proposal via Katalk?
“I was about to say super cute.”
“Oh.” The object of discussion is now once again the brightest shade of red. If Sehun suddenly decides to wake up, he will make fun of how embarrassed and wasted he looks in this moment. Chanyeol prays that the now quiet snoring won’t stop anytime soon. “I don’t remember you, though.”
“Byun Baekhyun,” Bambi – Baekhyun, now – is telling him, but the name doesn’t click a thing; if anything, he is even more lost. He has remembered one or two Jongdae’s friends; a certain Jongin, tan skin and plump lips. He is handsome in a way that says . In other words, not his type. “You don’t remember me?”
“Er, sorry.” He really, really wants to remember, though.
“Well, that’s a way to break someone’s heart, Casanova,” he jokes, with a laugh. And Chanyeol laughs, too.
Screw it, and screw even trying to get some sleep tonight, Chanyeol thinks as he says: “Listen, it’s getting a little bit late and I don’t fancy the idea of you being all alone there. How about you try to tell me where you are?” Now his tone has gotten serious. He doesn’t want to leave the other, Baekhyun, alone. Even if he is still a stranger – or not a complete stranger now that he knows his name, right?
“Gosh, I can try, but there are no signs around, just an old farm, I think? And a lot of bushes.”
“Not really helpful,” the nineteen-year-old sighs in response.
“I figured.” His words trembles a little, as if he was thinking that there is no way to be found, at this point. “I don’t know if it works, there might not be any signal here, but I can try to send you my position on Maps, or something.”
Chanyeol nodds before remembering that Baekhyun can’t see him. He gets up from his bed, sliding in an old hoodie and picking up the keys of his car. “All right.”
“Did you get it?”
“Not yet.”
The younger hears a trail of murmured “please” and an incessant tapping filled with anxiety on the steering wheel, before receiving the message.
“You’re fifteen minutes away from the campus.” Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun relax, his breathing becoming less hurried within seconds. As a reflex, he relaxes, too.
“Oh, thank God!”
“I’m getting in the car, I’m gonna hang up n-”
“No!” The two letters are impregnated of what Chanyeol supposed is fear, and he surely can’t hang up now. “Please? I’m much more badass than this, I swear. But I’m in the dark, alone, and I was just kinda feeling okay listening to your voice and I don’t think I would resist fifteen long minutes without hearing you.”
Chanyeol pauses for a moment, a shy smile creeping on his lips. His heart is beating abnormally fast as he speaks, “That’s a nice love declaration.”
“Shut up!”
He has turned on the engine and got out the parking lot already. The campus is rather quiet, he realizes, except for the electronic music that comes muffled to ears from one of the many buildings. It is the middle of the semester, and anyone you ask needs at least one party to get through the hell that are assignment and tests. Chanyeol, as well, had been to one – but only because of the constant begging from Sehun, who seriously needed to get laid and you, too, Yeol, or your dick might get all wrinkled or, worse, fall out. He didn’t get laid, if that wasn’t already obvious. Sehun almost positively did, though.
“So, what do you look like?” asks the younger. He has tried to find a witty, more casual way to ask. But the lack of proper sleep and the urgent need to give a face to one who is making him feel like that, like he is on an endless rollercoaster ride, washes over him.
“Are you trying to phone sex? Because if so, that’s a really poor attempt at phone sex, may I say.”
“Gosh, no, that’s more of a third date thing!” Chanyeol says, relaxed at Baekhyun’s nonchalant tone, all worries of being left alone not in his thoughts anymore.
“Will there be a first?” There is what Chanyeol can only hope is expectation in these words.
“Silly, this is our first.”
The older lets out an exaggerated gasp, “Jeez, if I had known this was a date I’d have worn something prettier.”
“Baekhyun, you’re literally wearing a suit.”
Baekhyun chuckes softly and there probably a hand covering his mouth, as the sound comes a little muffled. And again, a new wave of euphoria comes crashing on Chanyeol, who thinks it’s becoming almost addicting. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Seriously, what do you look like? I’m trying to remember you.”
“If I tell you I’m ugly, you’ll just hang up and turn back on your feet?”
“How much ugly?” Chanyeol hopes that Baekhyun can feel the teasing smile in his voice.
“Let’s say Jabba the Hut kind of ugly?”
“I call it bullshit. There isn’t a Jabba the Hut kind of ugly Jongdae’s friend. You’re all too pretty, like too pretty for your own good.”
“So you do remember Jongdae’s friends, except me.”
“I remember a couple, not everyone.”
“Like who?”
“The tall one with tanned skin?”
“Jongin, of course.” There is some bitterness in the tone; Chanyeol would say jealousy if it was a plausible option. But it isn’t, because why would Baekhyun be jealous?
“Yeah, him. I’m gonna exclude that you’re Jongdae’s boyfriend, partially because your name is not Minseok. But mostly because you’re flirting with no shame with me since the very beginning of this phone call. I also remember the little scary one, with big doe eyes and a deathly glare.” As Google Maps said, Chanyeol takes the first road on his right.
“How bold! You say I’m flirting with someone who doesn’t even have the decency to remember me, a quite good looking pal!” Baekhyun speaks loudly, and acts offended. He sounds cute and Chanyeol is somehow sure that his voice reflects his appearance. “That’s Kyungsoo, by the way. And I'll admit it, his glare is kind of unforgettable.”
“I’m trying my best here!” Chanyeol now turns into a black pitch road, illuminated only by two yellow blinking front light. “I think I’m here, are you already out of the car?”
“Yeah, I am-”
“Damn, you really are cute.” But Chanyeol says this when he can't be heard anymore.
Park Chanyeol, nineteen years old, literature major soon to be, legs too long and Yoda ears, has never thought once in his life that he could have found himself in a dark road at one in the morning and be completely, inexplicably ecstatic about it. Right there, about five steps far, Byun Baekhyun is waving an uncertain wave at him. Byun Baekhyun, with his expensive suit that he has paid too much for and a big, giant smile planted on his lips; Chanyeol can see how pink they are even in the dim light, how his freshly dyed blonde hair covers his droopy, shiny eyes and maybe also the last faint trace of fear in them.
“Oh, that Byun Baekhyun.”
“Took you long enough, Chanyeol.”
Then, like fate deliciously planned, they smile at each other.