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The first thing that Chanyeol did was to block Baekhyun on Telegram, Whatsapp, Instagram and every other social media platform there was.
The second thing that Chanyeol did was to throw his phone onto the bed before throwing himself on top of it, screaming hysterically into his pillow and hoping to God that his sister and parents were already asleep.
After the screaming was done, the third thing that Chanyeol did was to rummage through his closet for his camping bag.
In the midst of all the packing, the fourth thing that Chanyeol did was to dial Kyungsoo’s number.
“It’s—” a pause, “fucking 3AM in the middle of the night! What did you do this time?” a voice growled menacingly across the phone. Technically, Chanyeol thought, it wasn’t 3AM, it was 2:57AM. But to be fair to Kyungsoo, it was really late at night and Kyungsoo was still in the middle of his final exam season. Then again, which college student really slept at 3AM during finals?
And, most importantly, “Why do you always think that it was something that I did?” Chanyeol sniffed, folding an arm across his torso indignantly.
“Well, was it?”
Chanyeol hesitated.
“God damn it, Park Chanyeol,” a heavy, angry sigh came through the speaker, “What did you do?”
“I just blocked Baekhyun,” Chanyeol pulled his phone away momentarily to switch it over to his left hand, wiping away the sweat on his right hand against his pyjamas, “I just blocked Baekhyun!”
“Wait—what? You blocked Baekhyun?”
“Yes—”
“Byun Baekhyun?”
“Yes, Byun—”
“As in our friend, Byun Baekhyun? As in your—”
“Yes! As in Byun Baekhyun, Kyungsoo! How many Byun Baekhyuns do we know?” Chanyeol said testily. “I blocked Byun Baekhyun.”
“Okay..” Kyungsoo breathed in deeply, “where?”
“Everywhere,”
“What—why?” Chanyeol could hear the exhaustion in his friend’s voice and felt sorry for Kyungsoo, but not sorry enough to put the phone down immediately. This was an emergency, the kind that you pack your bags and skip town for.
“Because,” inhale, “he found it.”
In all honesty, the origins of this horrible nightmare was rooted in an idea that came from Kyungsoo. That was a truth.
“What am I going to do,” Chanyeol dragged out his words, rolling onto his back on his bed. It was a humid summer night, and although the sun had already set hours ago, it was one of those days that you wanted nothing else but to rip off your shirt and sink into a pool of ice water. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he stared at the fan on his desk turning in place.
“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo said, his eyes never leaving his book.
“Do I need to do anything on Valentine’s day? I mean, that’s a great opportunity to just confess to him, right?”
“Sure,”
“So how should I do it? Should I just tell it to him directly? Face to face? Or should I write a letter? Or do you think maybe I could bake—”
“You know what,” Kyungsoo sighed, putting his book spread on his lap as he turned around to face Chanyeol, “I’m going to stop you right there. You’re not going to be baking anything, alright? Food poisoning is a surefire way to get rejected.”
Chanyeol frowned, giving Kyungsoo’s shoulder a nudge with his own, “Hey, show me some support, won’t you? What’s the point of reading all those books if you don’t have any ideas to share?”
“I read non-fiction.” Kyungsoo deadpanned.
“Even better.”
“Alright, fine,” Kyungsoo huffed, “You want an idea? Here’s an idea: write a letter to him.”
Chanyeol’s frown deepened, “That’s hardly original.”
“You weren’t asking for original, you were asking for ideas.”
“Alright, now I’m asking for original.”
Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, picking up his book again, “Then just put it in with some snacks or something, a care pack. You always make those for Baekhyun when he’s stressed or upset, right? Just sneak a little love letter inside and give it to him. Just be sure not to bake anything, seriously.”
Chanyeol scoffed at it before closing his eyes against the lights. What kind of supportive friend is that?
But then, just as his fan started creaking as it begun another rotation, an idea came to him.
“And this is somehow my fault?” Kyungsoo asked skeptically.
“Well.. Yes!” Chanyeol cried into the phone, throwing another pair of underwear into his bag. He was pretty sure that that was the seventh pair of underwear he had packed, and he wasn’t even sure if he needed that many pairs of underwear. To be even more honest, he didn’t even know that he had that many pairs of underwear. “It was your idea.”
“Okay, even if I take the blame for the idea, the execution did not come from me.” Kyungsoo pointed out, “What did you do?”
“I did as you suggested,” Chanyeol mumbled, “I snuck it in with the food.”
It was such an ingenious idea, Chanyeol couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Or maybe it was such an ingenious idea that Chanyeol couldn’t believe that he’d thought of it at all.
He was sitting at his desk, folding up the piece of paper that he had just poured the deepest parts of his soul onto. He took great pains to ensure that he didn’t wrinkle up the paper in the process of placing it on top of the packet of cigar biscuits in the tin can. Baekhyun was always particular about crumpled paper.
Then, with some effort, he managed to seal the tin can with an extremely long piece of transparent scotch tape, trying his best to ensure as little of his fingerprints were caught on it.
When he was done, he took a good minute to admire his work. It looked perfectly nondescript, exactly like a tin of biscuits you could purchase off the shelf of any supermarket for five dollars or so.
“You sent your love confession in a sealed tin of biscuits?”
“I thought it was a great idea at that time.” Chanyeol said defensively.
“Yeah, but what if he gave it away? People do give away their gifts, you know. Then he would have never seen it.”
“Well, honestly,” Chanyeol picked at the loose thread at the bottom of his pants, “I think it might have been better if he hadn’t.”
There was a pregnant silence before the distant sound of something shifting and shuffling in the background echoed in the receiver. “Wait, wait, wait.” Kyungsoo said, realization dawning on him now, “If he hadn’t? So you’re saying that—”
“He saw it,” Chanyeol admitted, a wave of calm washing over him, “He took a picture of it and sent it to me on Telegram.”
“Okay, and then what happened?”
“And then I blocked him.”
Finals were always a pain for him because Chanyeol had never been the most consistent student. He was the kind of student who preached YOLO and then regretted his decision the night before his paper, vowing to reflect and change his bad lifestyle choices the next semester before repeating the cycle.
That was exactly what Chanyeol was doing on a Saturday night at 2:45AM, bent over his desk pouring over Leibniz’s rule of differentiating an integral because he couldn’t understand what the little symbols in the equation even meant. He was writing out the equation for what felt like the millionth time when his phone buzzed once. It was probably Baekhyun—they were both in the same boat, although Chanyeol’s boat was, admittedly, sinking much faster than Baekhyun’s.
As he reached across the table for his phone, it buzzed again.
Baek [2:49AM]
Photo
Baek [2:50AM]
Hey Chanyeol
Why is Baekhyun capitalizing his words, Chanyeol wondered as he began to unlock his screen. Baekhyun never capitalizes his words unless it was something serious.
His phone buzzed again.
Baek [2:50AM]
This is pretty awkward to type out, but could you give me a call once you see this message?
When he read the last message, Chanyeol could feel his palms grow sweaty and the blood racing through his veins. In those few seconds of ignorance, his active imagination had conjured up many different scenarios that all ended the same way: with Baekhyun ending his friendship with Chanyeol. That thought alone was enough to scare him into not wanting to look at the photo, but it was probably going to be worse not to know what Baekhyun had found awkward enough not to type out. Baekhyun was the king of breaking the ice and making uncomfortable situations better, so if even he found it weird, things were guaranteed to go south.
Taking a deep breath, Chanyeol scrolled upwards to take a look at the photo. When he did, one word came to mind: fuck.
“And then you blocked him?” Kyungsoo raised his voice incredulously.
“And then I blocked him.” Chanyeol confirmed.
“But—why?”
“What else was I supposed to do? Call him?”
“Yes!” Kyungsoo shouted, “That’s exactly what he told you to do!”
“Well I didn’t, okay!” Chanyeol pinched the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes tightly, “What should I do now?”
“Call him!”
“Besides that!” Chanyeol stood up, zipping up his bag hurriedly. He slid his phone between his ear and shoulder as he tiptoed out of his room, opening the door as quietly as possible and slipping on his sliders.
“What else is there to do but to talk to him? You were the one who wrote the letter in the first place, and obviously Baekhyun wants to talk about it, so just do it.” Kyungsoo said seriously before ending the call. Chanyeol pulled the phone away from him and stared at the black screen in disbelief. While he couldn’t blame Kyungsoo, but it felt worse than he expected to be abandoned in the greatest crisis of his life so far. Even so, he was already out of his house with no where in mind to go. Chanyeol only had himself to blame.
The night time air was piercing. It cut through Chanyeol like a pair of scissors through paper. He shivered and hugged his bag to his body, hoping for it to provide some form of protection against his invisible predator.
The street was quiet save for the occasional car that drove by, or the almost inaudible footsteps of stray cats alongside Chanyeol. So it shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise when a long shadow crossed into his. It was this that first alerted Chanyeol to the presence of another human in his vicinity, rather than the loud panting from a few metres away.
Chanyeol looked up sharply.
Standing against the harsh white light from the 24/7 convenience store down the street from his house was Baekhyun, clutching onto his chest with one hand and that unpleasantly familiar letter in his other hand.
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun puffed, “I really should take up your offer to go to the gym.”
He didn’t laugh. Chanyeol always laughed at this joke, but it fell flat this time.
Baekhyun’s eyes darted to Chanyeol’s bag. Still taking uneven gasps of air, Baekhyun spoke again, “What’re you doing?”
“Skipping town.” Chanyeol said honestly.
“Why?”
Chanyeol nodded towards the letter in Baekhyun’s hand, now crumpled up in the middle from being gripped too tightly.
“Oh,” Baekhyun fell silent, worrying his lip between his teeth in a thoughtful silence, “You didn’t mean for me to receive this?”
“No, I did, but—” Chanyeol sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away in defeat, “But I wasn’t expecting it to be now. I mean, I gave that to you—”
“On Valentine’s day.” Baekhyun interrupted in a hollow tone.
Chanyeol nodded, “Yeah.”
It was Baekhyun’s turn to look away now. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier. I was trying to finish up all the expired food in my room first and this was sealed. I didn’t think that there was going to be anything inside.”
“Yeah, I guess I should have expected that.” Chanyeol shrugged, shifting his weight on his other foot, “I just thought that, since almost a year had gone by without any reply, that you were trying to let me off gently.”
“No!” Baekhyun cried, “God, no! Not at all, Chanyeol. I didn’t know about it, and if I did, do you think that I would’ve pretended that I didn’t?”
The corner of his lip turned up, even if he couldn’t find the humour in the situation. “No, I don’t think you would have.”
Baekhyun relaxed, “Yeah. Exactly.”
The both of them fell into a silence that walked the thin line of being comfortable and uncomfortable all at the same time. It was comfortable because it was Baekhyun, and Baekhyun had always been his constant since they were toddlers pushing each other on the swings. It was comfortable because no matter how badly things could end up, Baekhyun would always be that one song on the radio that brought a lifetime of fond memories with it, even if things were no longer the same as they are now.
But, really, things aren’t the same now anyway. Baekhyun had read his letter, and that was what made the silence so foreign, so uncomfortable. Now, Baekhyun knew how Chanyeol had felt—still feels—about him, and not knowing how Baekhyun felt was frightening. It put ice daggers in his veins and wrapped its calloused hands around Chanyeol’s lungs.
Baekhyun took a few steps forward. “Did you mean it?”
Chanyeol opened his mouth, ready to deny it. It would have been so easy to say no, I didn’t, it was just a practice for a real love letter I will eventually write to my lover in the future. But there Baekhyun stood, less than five metres away from him, looking so hopeful and fearful at the same time. If the eyes were windows into the soul, then Baekhyun’s were wide open, allowing himself to be as vulnerable as Chanyeol felt in this moment.
His eyes travelled downward, looking at the letter. As his eyes traced the black ink on the paper, he remembered copying them carefully from a notepad he had typed on his laptop.
Hey Baekhyun,
Happy Valentine’s day! I know you don’t celebrate such days because you think it’s a money-grabbing scam, but it’s still fun to celebrate them anyway.
Recently I realized that we don’t talk as much as we used to. I know it’s been a busy period for the both of us and we have our own things going on in our lives. But to be honest with you, I wanted to tell you that I missed you on the days that we don’t talk. It can’t be helped that we’ll eventually text less and meet up less often. I don’t mind it that much.
But I like talking to you. I like talking to you a lot. I want to tell you about my day and all the mundane things that happened to me. I want to tell you about the things that made me laugh, the things that annoyed me, the things that hurt me and the things that reminded me of you. There’s so much that I want to tell you—an ocean of it, a world of it, a whole universe of it—and sometimes it suffocates me when you’re sitting next to me, and my mouth is an impenetrable dam that seals them off.
I like you. There’s no other way to say it. I want to hold your hand, and give you hugs when you’re upset, and maybe lean my head on your shoulder even if I end up with a crick in my neck from the awkward position. I want to be able to listen to you talk about your day, no matter how boring you think it may be.
I don’t know where we’ll be in the future, but I hope that no matter where I am, I’ll still be by your side. Even if you don’t feel the same way, I hope that we can remain as friends.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol whispered, “I meant it.”
“And do you still feel this way?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Baekhyun gazed at Chanyeol for a minute that seemed to stretch into forever before the brightest smile enveloped his face, his eyes crinkling up into half-moons that Chanyeol loved to see. Baekhyun took the last few steps forward, closing the distance between them before he admitted softly. “Good, because I want to hold your hand too. And maybe give you a big hug on this empty street.”
Chanyeol smiled, and this time he could feel its happiness radiating from his soul. “Okay,” he spread his arms, allowing his bag to drop on his feet in the process. It wasn’t that heavy anyway, and the pain was worth the warmth from Baekhyun stepping hesitantly into his arms.
“Okay,” Baekhyun agreed, voice muffled against Chanyeol’s thin shirt. A moment later, Baekhyun said, “By the way, can you please unblock me?”
Chanyeol laughed, resting his chin on the crown of Baekhyun’s head, “Okay,”
Chanyeol baked Kyungsoo thank-you-for-your-horribly-brilliant-idea brownies the next day that Kyungsoo begrudgingly ate. It came as a pleasant surprise to all parties when there was no vomiting or frequent toilet visits after consumption of what was thought to be a radioactive hazard waste.