Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Baekhyun looks at the window, he sees nothing but the reflection of his own face.

He’s closing up the cafe at a time that is far too late to be appropriate for New Year’s Eve. Although the sun set almost an hour ago and he hasn’t had customers since afternoon, Baekhyun found himself putting off the trek back to his empty apartment.

He can still hear the unstable rhythm of bright fireworks in the distance popping in his ears, and although the street in front of him is warmly lit—street lights decorated with snowflakes, garlands of tinsel and lanterns hanging from the balconies above— it’s a cold night and Baekhyun feels himself freezing over.

The second time Baekhyun looks at the window, he sees the distorted glitter of a butterfly’s wings.

Drops of water from melted snow speckle the window panes, and as Baekhyun squints to look closer, the butterfly flits past each drop. It’s a strange sight for the middle of winter, deep blue wings fluttering through the soft glow that filters through the glass.

He returns to cleaning, smiling slightly. Though it’s easy to feel lonely in the face of the chattering lights outside, the transient company of such a fragile creature numbs the pain. Baekhyun has been wiping a cloth over the same section of counter for at least five minutes now, but the unmoving lights and near silence broken only by a faint pop-pop-pop creates a pocket of time in the afterimage of the butterfly—he doesn’t want to let go of the moment.

The counter is more than spotless now, and the glow of the streetlights is broken for a moment as a shadow falls over the floor of the cafe. Baekhyun looks up to see what disrupted the peace, and—

The third time Baekhyun looks at the window, he sees the face of a man looking back at him.

He’s underdressed for the weather, wearing only a thin brown sweater. There are holes all over it, letting a beige shirt peek out from underneath. He doesn’t look cold despite his light clothing, seemingly content to stand outside in the chilly breeze as he looks at Baekhyun through the glass.

His eyes are wide but also soft, the look he gives Baekhyun tinged with nostalgia. Whoever he is, wherever he’s from—and he isn’t from this town, Baekhyun knows that, so he must be a visitor—he probably misses the warmth of late-night coffee under a starry sea.

The man gestures at the ‘Closed’ sign Baekhyun had placed on the windowsill only ten minutes earlier, his eyebrows arching as he looks into Baekhyun’s eyes. He stands still and maintains eye contact, waiting for Baekhyun to move.

He sighs, tossing the rag aside and making his way to the window. As nice as the man looks and as much as Baekhyun knows he longs for company, he can’t just let someone in after closing.

He puts a hand on his hip, pursing his lips and gesturing at the same sign. He mouths it out, drawing out the syllables to make himself clear. Up close, the man looks a little more sad, though, and Baekhyun feels oddly like he’s turning down a stray puppy. His eyes also seem to glitter, though it might just be light refracting through the water on the window. Regardless, the faux-guilt tugs at Baekhyun’s heartstrings and he sighs again, shrugging and looking down to avoid eye contact.

The man doesn’t let him, ducking so Baekhyun is looking straight into his eyes again. He plays up the puppy eyes again, pouting and looking absolutely downtrodden. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and adjusting his weight. The corner of the other man’s lip raises.

Oh well. It’s a lonely night and no one is here to look down on Baekhyun for mismanaging his business. The lights on the street bathe the stranger in a soft glow, an ethereal sight. Baekhun is tempted to touch the glass, as if he can reach through and feel the other man’s face, confirming his existence.

Without his realizing, Baekhyun watches as his own fingertips press against the glass. On the other side, they are met by the stranger’s own. They slide against the watery window, slipping into place. The man gets up and Baekhyun watches him, his face softening as his eyes flick back and forth between Baekhyun’s. For a moment, he looks desperate, longing, but it’s quickly replaced by a smirk as he raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at the door.

Baekhyun pulls his hand away from the glass, intending to stomp over to said door. Instead, he finds himself standing still for a moment, a tingle spreading over his fingertips. It’s different from the sting of cold glass—like pins and needles dancing across his hand, the loss of such a simple connection is tangible.

He’s interrupted by the stranger knocking on the window once, prompting him to look back up. Once again, there’s that soft emotion in the other’s eyes. It’s captivating, but Baekhyun turns away quickly to get the door.

The bell jingles as he pulls it open, a draft of cold air sweeping into the building. Baekhyun shivers slightly but welcomes the wake-up call. The stranger walks closer and the first thing Baekhyun notices as his image becomes clearer without glass obscuring it is the holes in his sweater. They aren’t random and tattered tears like he imagined at first, but intentional, patterned cutouts. There’s reasoning behind their placement, he’s sure, though Baekhyun can’t pinpoint what it reminds him of.

“Hi.”

Baekhyun nods, ducking out of the doorway to let him in. He opens his mouth to respond but presses it closed again when his voice fails him, opting to turn and make his way to the counter.

He hears the quiet clicks of the man’s footsteps as he follows him to the register, each step perfectly in time with Baekhyun’s own heartbeat.

As Baekhyun pushes open the gate and walks behind the counter, he glances at the other man again. He’s looking at Baekhyun with the smallest frown on his face, though his gaze flicks away after their eyes meet. Baekhyun thinks there might be a light pink tinge spreading over his cheeks and ears, but perhaps it’s just a trick of the light.

The whole night feels surreal, even the bright cafe lights dimmed and softened by the fantasy of nighttime wondering and strangers in the window.

Baekhyun smiles at the other when he stands in front of him, somewhat fake but softer than his regular customer service smile. He smiles back, an inside joke playing over his lips.

“What would you like to drink?”

The man sighs dramatically, tapping his chin with his pointer finger. “I don’t know, I’m at a bit of a loss.” He shrugs, turning his head to the side before looking back at Baekhyun out of the corner of his eye. “Would you possibly have any recommendations?”

Baekhyun nods vigorously, pointing vaguely at the menu on the wall behind him. “I would definitely recommend ordering coffee.”

The other man raises his eyebrows, throwing Baekhyun an unimpressed look. “Baekhyun, everything is coffee.”

Baekhyun recoils before noting the stranger’s gaze drifting down to his name tag. Right. He shrugs off the peculiar feeling of hearing his name fall off the other’s lips, rolling his eyes. “Well, there’s also hot chocolate, you know.”

The man’s expression doesn’t change. “I see that. Shouldn’t you be recommending hot chocolate to me, then? Coffee is a little strong for evening, isn’t it?” He shifts to put his hands in his pockets, leaning back slightly.

“If you wanted hot chocolate, you could have just ordered it.” Baekhyun drums his fingers on the countertop. “And you asked for my personal recommendation—I, for one, love a good cup of nighttime coffee.”

The other thrusts his tongue into the inside of his cheek. “I never explicitly said personal—”

“Plus, if you didn’t want coffee you wouldn’t have come to a cafe, would you?” Baekhyun interrupts him, stopping the movement of his fingers. Seeing the other man shake his head, he continues. “Why are you here, now, anyway? Coffee? A warm place? Company on this lonely, lonely night?”

He chuckles, biting his lower lip. “Direct with your questions, aren’t you? I’ll take a small cappuccino. I’m not a fan of chocolate, anyways.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, reaching for a cup. “And you avoided answering any of them. Name for your order?”

The man looks surprised for a moment. “You don’t—?” His mouth snaps shut, and he masks his expression before looking over both shoulders, lips curving down in a dramatic frown. “There isn’t anyone else here for you to mix me up with, is there?” There’s more to his response than the poorly-made joke, but it’s late and the meaning is obscure and—

“Alright, you win.” Baekhyun picks up a marker and purses his lips as he maintains eye contact, letting his mild frustration seep into his appearance. “Tell me your name so I can satisfy my curiosity.”

The other smiles victoriously. “Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun hums, scribbling it on the cup. He repeats, “Chanyeol,” tasting the shape of the word. A smile falls on his lips easily—it’s a pretty name.

Chanyeol nods, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Yes, Chanyeol.” His mouth puckers sourly for a moment before widening into an unstoppable grin. “Sounds good in your voice.”

He rolls his eyes at the compliment, turning around to make the coffee. Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s eyes tracking him as he moves around the back.

Chanyeol…it’s a familiar name, just as oddly familiar as the soft look in his eyes.

Baekhyun turns his head while the coffee pours, eyes roving over Chanyeol’s face.

He frowns. “Have we met before?”

The other man’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open slightly before he schools his expression into a calmer one. “Mmm, maybe we have.”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrow. “Does that have anything to do with what you’re doing here?” He turns back to the coffee, going through the motions without much concentration. Maybe? What does he mean maybe? Either they know each other or they don’t, and Chanyeol clearly has an answer to that—whether he’ll tell Baekhyun or not.

When Chanyeol doesn’t answer, he finishes making the cappuccino in silence. He’ll get his answers before the other leaves.

Baekhyun turns around and sets the coffee on the counter. “That’ll be three dollars. Now—why are you here, Chanyeol?”

The man in question grins sheepishly, pulling one hand out of his pocket to scratch the back of his neck. “Uhh, can I pay you that later? I’ll get it to you tonight, I promise.”

“Oh my God, you are the most insufferable—” Baekhyun cuts himself off, exhaling through his nose. “You know what? Fine, pay me later but just tell me why you’re here and why you know me.”

Chanyeol relaxes, letting out a deep breath. His left hand, which had been in his pocket the whole time, clenches before he pulls it out, holding something. “Well, I came here to return something to you.” He smiles slightly—it’s a shaky smile and it doesn’t reach his eyes—and opens his fist.

He holds his flat palm out to Baekhyun, displaying a small silver chain. It’s made of somewhat large loops of metal, too large to reasonably be a pendant or bracelet chain yet small enough to be a delicate piece of jewelry. There’s a clasp on one end, either to clip to the other end and form a necklace or to attach to something else entirely.

The other end, though, is adorned with a small bar, creating a T shape on Chanyeol’s hand. Baekhyun frowns, tilting his head left and right as he tries to figure out what this chain could possibly be for.

He leans back, frown deepening. “What are you playing at, Chanyeol? This chain—whatever it is—isn’t mine. I don’t know if you just mistook me for someone else or if there’s something else going on here, but you can either tell me what you’re up to or you can leave and let me close my shop.”

To his credit, Chanyeol doesn’t seem too surprised. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. He sighs, reaching with his other hand for Baekhyun’s. “It’s yours.” He pulls Baekhyun’s hand towards him, uncurling his fingers and cupping it in his palm. “You’ll understand tomorrow, I promise, but for now just hold onto this.”

Baekhyun grimaces but allows Chanyeol to place the chain in his palm and gently fold his fingers over it. “You have a lot of explaining to do. I hope you keep your promises.”

Chanyeol nods, lips pressed together and eyes set in a determined expression.

“I do,” he says. “I’m here because I have questions of my own to answer, but I swear I’ll answer yours too.”

Baekhyun nods as well, tucking the chain into his pocket and looking away from Chanyeol’s endearing confidence. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

Chanyeol gives him a small salute before backpedaling to the door. He smirks slightly before turning around, waving lazily as he shoulders his way out of the building.

Baekhyun stands still for a moment, running his fingers over the chain in his pocket. Tomorrow, huh? Questions are still racing through his mind, but at least he can rely on Chanyeol to show up and give him vague answers.

He isn’t sure what makes him see Chanyeol as a reliable figure when this is their first time meeting—as far as Baekhyun can recall—but regardless, the other man felt like a grounding contrast to the drifting lights and distant memories flying through the empty night. If anything from tonight was reliable, it had to be the living, breathing person with a lifetime of longing tucked into his eyes.

Baekhyun sighs, turning to clean up again before he realizes—

“Hey!” He runs to the door, pushing it open and leaning into the cold breeze. “You said you’d pay me tonight, you asshole!”

Baekhyun pulls his jacket tighter around his shoulders, zipping it up. He’s almost at his house now—the warm, decorative lights on the street have long faded into the background,the only warmth in front of him coming from the stars. Baekhyun’s house is in the outskirts of the town, overgrown with vines and moss as his only company.

It’s a cold, dark night, but the sky is clear; the light snow from earlier has long melted, the clouds long gone. Baekhyun wonders if he prefers the silence out here or the distant tones of fireworks and townsfolk he could hear from the cafe. Both are a reminder of how achingly alone he is, though, so what does it matter, really.

He steps off the road and onto a small dirt path laid on the grass. It’s a short walk to the stone steps and a shorter walk from there to the door. A few drops of water fall next to Baekhyun as he slides his key into the lock, the leaves above him shivering in the light breeze.

It’s a small house—one story, one bedroom, one bathroom, one everything—truly made for one person, but it’s warm, and it’s Baekhyun’s. He steps inside, closing and locking the door behind him before turning on the light and making his way to the kitchen.

There’s less than half an hour until midnight and Baekhyun gets to work making a small snack before he heads to bed. He hadn’t planned on staying up to celebrate the new year, but Chanyeol interrupting him at the cafe had slowed him down a lot. All he wants to do now is collapse into bed and wonder whether Chanyeol will show up again tomorrow. Unfortunately, Baekhyun’s stomach has been rumbling since he set out from work and even the effort required to prepare a light snack is preferable to sleeping on an empty stomach.

Twenty minutes and a fair amount of procrastinating later, Baekhyun sits at the table with a bowl of overly processed mac and cheese. He twirls a spoon between his fingers, rocking back and forth on the rickety chair as he stares at the cheesy mess. Has this day always been so simple? Baekhyun sighs, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. It doesn’t take long for Baekhyun’s hunger to overpower his contemplation, though, and he digs in.

Nine minutes and an empty bowl later, Baekhyun is washing his dishes. He sets them on a drying rack before turning to check the clock—less than a minute until midnight. There’s nothing to be seen or had under his kitchen lights, so Baekhyun makes his way to his bedroom window. Some stars are still visible above the road, shadowy trees blocking the lower half of the sky.

Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…Baekhyun’s hand unconsciously drifts to his pocket, fingers brushing over the chain.

Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…a small movement in the corner of Baekhyun’s eye catches his attention.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…a butterfly. Is it the same one as before? Blue—black in the night—wings flutter rapidly as it flies closer. For a moment, the butterfly seems to be made of glass, innumerable stars reflected in its wings.

Ten, nine, eight…Baekhyun blinks once as the butterfly flits out of sight. He sighs, closing his eyes and raising his hand to press against the window. The last butterfly he saw was cut into Chanyeol’s sweater.

Five, four, three, two, one—

A light knock on the door calls in the new year.

Faintly, bells and fireworks ring in the background, but the unmistakable tone of knuckles on wood overwhelms them all. Baekhyun turns around, making his way out of the bedroom. It’s late, very literally midnight, far too late for anyone to be out here at his door. Whoever’s outside knocks again, even softer this time. There’s a quiet echo to the knock, as if they had attempted to knock twice but changed their mind—tap-tap. It repeats once more. Tap-tap. Then, silence.

Baekhyun reaches the door, unlocking it. If this is a prank, he’ll laugh at himself for falling for it. If it’s a serial killer, he was bound to wind up dead anyways. And if this is anything like the events from earlier tonight, he’ll have something to occupy his mind.

When he opens the door, he sees Chanyeol standing in front of him.

“Huh.” Baekhyun looks him up and down. “You changed?” He’s lost the butterfly sweater—Baekhyun feels a twinge of something in his chest when he notices this—and is wearing a simple white shirt and slacks.

Chanyeol looks different in some way other than his clothes, though Baekhyun can’t put his finger on what exactly is so off about him.

So instead, he wordlessly invites him inside, holding open the door. Chanyeol gives him a wide-eyed, oddly confused look, but steps inside all the same. After Baekhyun closes the door and turns around to face him, he frowns and worries at his lip, fiddling with something in his pocket.

Baekhyun crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Here to pay me? I’m not even going to ask how you found my address—you bet I’m going to find out tomorrow, though.”

Chanyeol brightens, pulling his hand out from his pocket to hand Baekhyun three crumpled dollars. “Right here, sir.”

Baekhyun chokes. “Sir?! I—What?” He gives Chanyeol an incredulous look, glancing up and down again. “What is up with you, Chanyeol?”

The man in question shuffles on his feet, avoiding eye contact. “Well—I don’t really know what to call you, so…”

“You literally called me by my name a few hours ago, what are you talking about?” Baekhyun wasn’t expecting to start the new year with a massive wave of frustration, yet here he is.

Now Chanyeol looks confused too. “Sorry—I don’t know your name? And this is my first time here, uh…I actually came to”—he pats at his pockets, looking over his shoulder—“return this”—keeps searching—“once I find it, um”—still searching—“I swear I put it here—”

“This?” Baekhyun reaches into his own pocket, pulling out that damned chain. “You already gave this to me, Chanyeol, you really aren’t helping your case here.” He shows it to Chanyeol. “I still don’t even know what this is for!”

Chanyeol drags a palm down his face as he looks at the chain. He presses his fist against his mouth, pensive, before sighing and beginning to talk.

“Okay, so—I’m here because you told me to visit you here, on this day, to return the chain you’re holding to you.” Baekhyun sputters—when did he tell Chanyeol any of that—but Chanyeol holds up a finger, continuing. “I forgot the chain, but you already have it and you’re telling me I returned it to you earlier tonight—and already knew your name?”

Baekhyun thinks back. “Well, I was wearing my nametag, but you seemed like you already knew me. Chanyeol”—he steps forward, frowning—“what is going on, really?”

Something seems to click in the other man’s eyes. They widen, along with his mouth, and for a second he looks close to tears.

He licks his lips quickly, nervously, before opening his mouth again.

“So, I’m a time traveler.”

Baekhyun passes out.

Or, he imagines, he must have passed out at midnight, back in his room.

Because there is no way this is real.

Now that Baekhyun has confirmed he’s dreaming, he feels much more relaxed. He bursts into laughter, smiling at Chanyeol. “Yeah, you—uh huh.” Baekhyun nods, grinning still. “Go on.”

Chanyeol cringes, rubbing at the side of his face again. “I guess I can’t really prove it to you right now, huh? Well, what’s your name anyways?”

Baekhyun giggles. He’s so silly, dreaming up a mystery time traveler to keep himself company. There’s no harm in playing along with his own imagination for now. “Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun is my name.”

He nods, repeating, “Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun,” as if he is tasting the shape of the words. It sounds different from when he said it earlier that night, but that is to be expected from a dream. Chanyeol nods firmly, looking Baekhyun directly in the eyes.

There’s something almost innocent about his gaze. Unlike the real Chanyeol’s melancholic yet guarded eyes, dream Chanyeol’s sheer determination is vulnerable to Baekhyun’s own eyes. Bit by bit, the strange parts of dream Chanyeol start to fall together. The naïve eyes, the different clothes, a change in hairstyle—previously swooped up, dream Chanyeol’s hair falls softly onto his forehead—and is he a little shorter, too?

Baekhyun pats himself on the back as Chanyeol reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek, silver pocket watch. Of course, the watch is hooked onto a chain that perfectly matches the one Chanyeol “returned” to Baekhyun earlier. Ahh, his imagination has really outdone itself this time; Baekhyun doesn’t think he’s ever had such a vivid dream.

“I’m from 2442, and I’m going to travel back there now. I’m going to find you again, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol opens the pocket watch and adjusts its settings before suddenly looking up at Baekhyun again. “Or, I guess I already did.”

He presses on the crown of the watch and disappears.

Just like that.

It’s only when Baekhyun is lying in bed, the three dollars on his nightstand and the chain clenched in his fist—wondering if he’s still dreaming, if he’ll ever wake up—that he realizes what felt so off about Chanyeol.

He had looked younger.

Baekhyun wakes up to the feeling of cold metal weighing down his hand and three crisp, well-preserved dollar bills on his nightstand. He stares at the items for a few moments of blissful ignorance before the overwhelming nausea of memory hits him.

It wasn’t a dream.

He sets the chain on top of the money, making his way to the bathroom to robotically push through his morning routine. It’s a small room—like the rest of his house—fitted with only the bare essentials, but the familiarity of a well-worked routine is calming. Baekhyun sets to washing his face, the drops of water dripping off his nose in the mirror untouchable.

He wants to believe that, as much as last night must have been real, Chanyeol was lying or joking about being a time traveler, because what?! 2442?!!?

Baekhyun moves on to brushing his teeth, eyes never drifting from the mirror. Four hundred and twenty years in the future, that’s when this younger Chanyeol is from.

Because that’s the problem, that’s why Baekhyun is being forced to wrap his head around this concept of time travel—he only realized it as he was falling asleep, but it’s clear as day now that the Chanyeol he met at midnight was younger than the Chanyeol he met hours before. And try as he may to wrack his brain for another explanation, Baekhyun will never be able to think of anything as convincing as what that wide-eyed Chanyeol had explicitly claimed.

He finishes the rest of his routine in silence, stepping onto the stone stairs outside his door. It’s a clear and sunny day, no traces of last year’s snow. Appropriate for the new year, he supposes. New day, new beginning.

By the time he arrives at the cafe, Baekhyun is somewhat irate. He was too unfocused and distracted throughout the morning and ended up forgetting the keys to the cafe. Turning around halfway through his walk to work brought his mood down significantly. Not to mention, the cafe is about to open and Chanyeol has yet to show his face.

Baekhyun prays that he shows up before sunset or so help him he will make sure Chanyeol never sees the light of day again.

Maybe he’s expecting too much—it’s only been a couple hours since the sun first peeked over the horizon and Chanyeol never specified a time that he would be coming—but all of the pressing frustrations on Baekhyun’s mind can be drawn back to the stranger from last night and he’s about had it up to here.

Eight chimes in the distance mark the turn of the hour, and Baekhyun flips the sign in the window to open. It’ll be quite a few minutes before his first customer, so he doesn’t pay close attention to the door, only watching for movement out of the corner of his eye in case someone decides to show his stupid face.

He doesn’t, of course.

An hour later and Baekhyun has served all of five customers without a single glimpse of Chanyeol’s face or even so much as a butterfly in the window. He sits at the counter, resting his head on his palm. It’ll probably be a slow day, too—Baekhyun is sure at least half of the town has sworn off coffee as a new year’s resolution.

Chanyeol doesn’t show up, still. Baekhyun is nearly falling asleep after having disrupted his sleep routine last night, but tries his best to keep his eyes peering for the other man. Maybe he shouldn’t be so obsessed over someone he just met, but Baekhyun likes to keep his affairs sorted and Chanyeol became an unsortable thorn in his side faster than anyone he has ever met.

There’s nothing more to it. Sure, Baekhyun is as curious as anyone else and of course, he’d like to know what goes on behind Chanyeol’s sad, intimate expression, but that doesn’t hold any further meaning. He wouldn’t lose any sleep over not knowing every detail of Chanyeol’s tragic past.

But what that past has to do with Baekhyun? That is what he’s interested in. Baekhyun really, truly couldn’t care less about Chanyeol’s feelings, but no matter what, he will find out what led him to this cafe last night.

And whatever is going on with the pocket watch chain and “returning” it to Baekhyun—who, might he add, has never owned a pocket watch in his life—is also a point of interest. Of course, whether he wants to or not, Baekhyun understands that he is or will be more caught up in this mess than it may seem.

He thought he was dreaming at the time, but Baekhyun still clearly remembers that young Chanyeol saying Baekhyun had told him to visit then and there.

And given that Baekhyun himself has no memory of meeting Chanyeol before, much less telling him to visit, if this time travel deal was real then Baekhyun must meet Chanyeol sometime in his future and tell him to visit.

Which means Baekhyun himself is the reason Chanyeol is here.

Look at that—Chanyeol didn’t bother showing up, and Baekhyun answered his own question instead. He sighs, pushing himself into a more appropriate upright position. There’s more to it, still. And as much as Baekhyun would like to say he doesn’t care about it, Chanyeol’s own story probably has more answers regarding the future—or, the past? Both, probably.

The bell jingles and Baekhyun prepares to attend to his customer, brushing off his pants and hopping off the stool. He looks up, half hoping it’s—

“Are you okay?!” Baekhyun’s mouth falls open.

Chanyeol is here. And he looks like shit.

He’s leaning against the still open door, yawning. He’s wearing the same cutout sweater as the night before, so this is his Chanyeol—his as in, his age, or really, because this was the first Chanyeol he met, not anything else. Of course. Anyways, Chanyeol’s hair is ruffled and his eyes are drowning in heavy bags. Baekhyun’s mood must have lifted at his earlier revelation, because he feels oddly willing to forgive the other for waiting so long to show up after laying his eyes on this pitiful sight.

Chanyeol sighs, stepping in and letting the door close behind him. “I’m fine, I just—you know, nighttime coffee really doesn’t work with me? I think?”

Baekhyun cringes, biting his lip. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that…” He might have been a little hung up on holding up his end of the argument last night, enough to forget about the consequences of drinking coffee late. “Did you really drink the whole cup?”

He mirrors Baekhyun’s expression, wringing his hands. “Yeah, I did…”

Baekhyun sighs, stepping around the counter and past the gate to get a closer look. Unsurprisingly, Chanyeol looks even worse the closer you get. His eyes are drooping as he just stands there, and it looks like he slept in his clothes—maybe even in an upright position, with the way his shirt is unnaturally creased.

“Well”—Baekhyun crosses his arms, rolling his eyes as he tries to hide the small smile forming on his face—“I guess my answers can wait for now. Would you prefer to sleep out here or in the break room?”

Chanyeol’s brow wrinkles as his eyelids pinch together. “Sleep?” His tone is questioning, more reminiscent of his younger self than the confident tease he first presented himself as.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, guiding him by the elbow and taking him to a booth tucked away in a shady corner near the counter. “Sit here. I’ll bring you some hot chocolate and then you sleep until you’re ready to speak in full sentences.”

He nods, smiling lightly before frowning again. “No chocolate, please.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow but agrees to heat up some milk instead. He lets Chanyeol settle in before returning to the counter, sitting back on the stool and leaning his head on his palm again. This time, he directs his attention to his left, glancing at Chanyeol’s peaceful face as often as he can without being obvious.

What an enigma…

Outside, a butterfly rests on the flowers outside of the cafe, a welcome break after a long journey.

Chanyeol sleeps through half the day, collapsed on his side in the booth. From the counter, Baekhyun can only see his shoulders and the half-empty mug of milk sitting on the table. After sending his youngest customer off with a cup of chocolate he grabs the mug to wash and uses the opportunity to observe Chanyeol in a relaxed state.

His face is smooth and free of wrinkles—outside of the dark bags still hanging under his eyes. Although he looks young, there are small signs that differentiate him from his younger self—his cheekbones are defined; his hair, though messy at the moment, looks soft and taken care of; his jaw tenses and relaxes over and over, perhaps in reaction to a dream.

Chanyeol shivers slightly, and Baekhyun heads to the break room to grab him a blanket. He’s shifted his position a little by the time Baekhyun returns, facing upwards more than sideways—Baekhyun uses the opportunity to tuck the blanket up to his chin, smirking at the amusing sight of Chanyeol’s ears poking over the edge.

It’s still early in the afternoon and a new wave of customers begins filing in, so Baekhyun leaves him there and returns to work. He loses himself in the monotony, smiling vaguely in the direction of his customers while letting his mind drift.

Not long later, he feels eyes drifting across his body.

Baekhyun maintains his smile, but as he turns around to make a latte he lets himself glance in Chanyeol’s direction—as he suspected, Chanyeol is blinking sleepily at him, his head resting on the table. He’s sitting up now, the blanket pulled around his shoulders and a slight upturn to his lips as he watches Baekhyun.

He continues to go about serving his customers, only sparing Chanyeol a glance here and there—every time he looks, Chanyeol is watching him. It only makes sense, Baekhyun supposes, given that—in some way or another—he’s here because of Baekhyun.

Baekhyun still has a few hours to work, but he spends his lunch break at the booth with Chanyeol. They eat sandwiches in near silence, broken only by a cough here and there and a short conversation about the nice weather. Baekhyun is itching to ask all the questions that have been popping in and out of his mind since last night, but something about Chanyeol’s silence and the still-present sleepy look in his eyes holds him back.

After eating, Baekhyun cleans up and sits back down at the booth. Chanyeol is waiting for him, blanket discarded and hands resting idly on the table. He smiles softly when Baekhyun slides into his seat, taking a deep breath and nodding for Baekhyun to finally, finally start talking.

He bites his lip. Now that it’s time, he doesn’t really know where to start.

“So,” Baekhyun begins, eyes wandering. “You’re a time traveler.” He glances back in front to see Chanyeol nodding, still maintaining that soft smile.

“And you’re here, visiting me”—Chanyeol nods again—“because…” Baekhyun trails off, waving his hand vaguely.

“Because…” Chanyeol frowns, poking his tongue in his cheek. “Because I visited you two years ago, and it took me two years to find you again.”

Two years? Baekhyun’s eyebrows crease. “To…find me?”

Chanyeol nods, sighing. “It’s a long story, but it’s almost impossible to time travel somewhere without knowing every detail about the location or person—and I didn’t learn your name until…today, I guess.”

He pauses, deep in thought. “I still don’t know how I managed to find you the first time around, but it took me this long to successfully find out about your location—I couldn’t find anything about you, if you were curious, so I needed to learn the where.” Chanyeol grimaces. “I also had to get the timing right, line it up so I would arrive yesterday before my younger self.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean timing? Can’t you just…travel to the exact time from whenever?”

Chanyeol laughs humorlessly. “Baekhyun, there are rules to time traveling. I pick the year and location, but I can’t change the date or time I’m traveling to. I needed to find you on December 31st, so I had to wait until December 31st to travel here.”

His eyes widen—somehow, none of Baekhyun’s existing questions were answered and now he has more. It’s almost endearing how Chanyeol avoids answering what Baekhyun is really curious about, but he reminds himself to be frustrated.

Baekhyun is about to ask him why he needed to visit on December 31st in the first place, but the door opens and the harsh jingle reminds him that his lunch break is over.

He leans over the table for a moment, pointing his finger at Chanyeol. “This isn’t over. Stay here or stretch your legs, I don’t care, but when I’m off work we are talking.”

Then, Baekhyun makes his way to the counter, smiling amicably at the returning customer.

A few hours later, Baekhyun closes the cafe. It’s earlier than usual, but he’s the boss and it’s a holiday and a weekend. By all means he should have kept it closed all day, but the people needed their coffee—and, really, he wanted to make sure Chanyeol showed up.

Chanyeol spent the whole afternoon in the booth, watching Baekhyun interact with his customers. He did shift around multiple times, but Baekhyun refuses to have the rest of the conversation stifled in the building, so he drags the other man to walk home with him. He’s not worried about revealing his address—after all, Chanyeol already knows where he lives, already visited him.

It’s still clear and sunny, the weather a stark contrast to the snow of the past few days. It started warming up yesterday and the snow all melted before midnight, so maybe Baekhyun shouldn’t be surprised by the cloudless sky—but he still is.

It feels planned, for everything around him to shift slightly with Chanyeol’s appearance.

They walk in silence for the first few steps, Chanyeol glancing around in curiosity, until Baekhyun can’t hold it in any longer.

“You still haven’t told me why.”

Chanyeol keeps up. “I don’t know why.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “You certainly know more than me, so spit it out.”

“I really don’t know much more, Baekhyun. It all has to do with you, so I think we would both get more out of this conversation if you started talking about yourself.” Chanyeol keeps looking forward, hands in his pockets.

“I’ll talk about myself if you talk about yourself,” Baekhyun caves in.

Chanyeol nods, grinning. “Fair deal. I’ll go first, in good faith. My name is Park Chanyeol, I’m from four hundred years in the future, and I really love the vintage aesthetic of your little town. It’s gorgeous, researching this place was a fun time.”

“You researched the cafe? Or the whole town?” Baekhyun feels mildly uncomfortable, knowing that Chanyeol had to learn about the history of Baekhyun’s own establishment just to meet him.

“Both.” Chanyeol kicks a pebble a few times, chasing it down the sidewalk then waiting for Baekhyun to catch up. “The more information you know about a place, the better, so I went all out. I can only travel around the world looking for you so many times before people start to get suspicious, you know?”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Other people can see where you travel? And it’s bad for you to travel too much?”

Chanyeol’s face hardens very slightly before he grins again. “Enough about me—you better hold up your end of the bargain too. What’s your family name?”

“Byun.” Baekhyun averts his eyes, sure Chanyeol must know about his family by nature of researching the cafe. He doesn’t say anything, so Baekhyun continues. “My name is Byun Baekhyun, I’m from…here, and I’ve never left this little town.”

The other man takes a few steps ahead to turn around and peer at Baekhyun’s face. He looks affronted. “Never?! We’ll have to fix that.”

Baekhyun frowns, looking up at Chanyeol as he keeps walking forward, forcing the other to backpedal. “We? And who says it needs fixing, anyways? You yourself said this town is nice.”

Chanyeol sighs dramatically. “Nice, yes, but not nice enough to be better than, you know, the rest of the world.”

“And what makes you think I could somehow see the rest of the world?” Baekhyun questions him sourly, letting his gaze drift across the street.

He chuckles, moving back to Baekhyun’s side. “Well, that’s where the we comes in. I could take you anywhere, you know?”

Baekhyun sighs, crossing his arms. “I’m never going to find out why you’re here, am I?”

“Nope!” Chanyeol’s wide grin widens further. “Well—actually, you will at some point, because you’re the one who told me to come here, but you aren’t finding out from me! Because…I. Don’t. Know. Either!”

He lags a step and lets Baekhyun walk in front of him before stepping behind him and leaning over his shoulder. “How many times must I tell you that, my dear Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun ignores him, reaching over his shoulder to slap his face away lightly—most of his attention is focused on Chanyeol’s earlier words. Like his younger self, Chanyeol said that Baekhyun told him to visit.

So, maybe questioning Chanyeol really isn’t going to get him anywhere, if the key to this puzzle is entrenched firmly in Baekhyun’s own future.

Baekhyun’s mouth twists. “What if you time traveled to future me and asked me why, then came back and told present me so I could finally have my answers?”

Chanyeol throws his head back and laughs, falling back in step. It’s a full-bodied laugh, livelier than his previous giggles. “You really don’t understand time travel,” he says, shaking his head. “Time passes at the same speed for me as it does for you, Baekhyun. The best I can do is travel a year in the future and ask your future self why, but I would prefer not to accidentally come in contact with myself and wipe us out of existence, please and thank you.”

Baekhyun sighs. “I”m not even going to question how that works, but can’t you just keep track of when and where you travel and make sure not to go to the same place and time again?”

“I already do! Look,” Chanyeol reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny leather-bound notebook. “Actually, don’t look inside but I promise this contains pages upon pages of my time traveling records.”

“Okay, so why not travel a year into the future then?” Baekhyun doesn’t know why he’s prodding so much—the idea of directly asking his future self feels like a cop-out, and he’s surely going to get more comfortable with the idea of discovering his future as it comes.

Chanyeol also seems uncomfortable with the idea. “Well, like I said, certain people can get suspicious about me hopping around your timeline. But also, I don’t—it just doesn’t—feel right about that.” He purses his lips, looking frustrated.

“Doesn’t feel right how?” Baekhyun pushes it a little further, more curious now about Chanyeol’s feelings.

He sighs deeply, looking up at the sky. “All my life, I’ve been special because I’m a time traveler.” Chanyeol looks at Baekhyun, an unintelligible look in his eyes. “You’re the only person I’ve spoken to more than once who hasn’t looked at me with envy.”

Baekhyun recoils. “People are jealous—?”

Chanyeol nods, stopping at a crosswalk. “Everyone who doesn’t work with me assumes I solve all my problems with time travel, and everyone who does work with me is consumed by the cutthroat environment of—”

He cuts himself off, jaw clenched. “I can’t really talk about work here, sorry.” Chanyeol smiles; it’s a strained smile, almost a grimace, but a smile nonetheless.

Baekhyun nods, pressing the button to cross and humming quietly.

They stand still for a few moments while waiting for the sign to walk, listening to birds chirping and distant traffic. Baekhyun falls silent, letting the sound of Chanyeol’s faith breathing envelop him. It’s been awhile since he took a walk with someone.

The light turns blue and the two of them begin to walk, Chanyeol pulling out his odd pocket watch to check the time—or, to travel through time? Baekhyun raises an eyebrow when he looks at him, gesturing toward the watch.

Chanyeol grins, holding it up. He hasn’t opened it yet, so its silver case reflects Baekhyun’s face back at him. “You saw this last night, right?”

“Right.” Baekhyun nods. “You leaving?”

His smile dims slightly. “Uh, soon…don’t tell my boss, I’m putting off going back.” It’s a more bashful smile now.

Baekhyun keeps walking, breathing in the fresh air. They don’t talk much for the rest of the walk, the conversation complete as it can be—though Baekhyun catches Chanyeol sneaking glances at him (and Chaneyol catches him doing the same) and he lets himself wonder how much his life is going to change.

Because it’s changing, and that’s inevitable now. Whether it started when Chanyeol visited his cafe yesterday, or years before or years later, Baekhyun’s life is changing—has already changed.

Midnight of the new year flipped a switch that can’t be flipped back, and now Baekhyun’s just along for the ride.

Half an hour of silence broken by occasional comments about the weather later, they arrive at Baekhyun’s house. Chanyeol pulls out his watch again while Baekhyun reaches in his pocket for his keys.

“Well, this is me.” They speak at the same time, both grinning wryly. Chanyeol raises his eyebrows, nodding at Baekhyun.

“I’ll be going inside now.” It’s clear to Baekhyun that Chanyeol isn’t going to be coming inside—he’s antsy on his feet, fingers playing with the chain of his watch.

Chanyeol smiles, waving vaguely with his hand. “I’ll be going…to the future, now.”

“Late?” Baekhyun chuckles awkwardly.

“Yup.” Chanyeol does the same.

It’s so awkward, Baekhyun doesn’t even know how to say goodbye. He nods and walks to the door, Chanyeol mumbling a “See you later” behind him.

Baekhyun hears him fiddling with his watch and looks over his shoulder.

“Tomorrow?”

Chanyeol nods.

The next day is simpler, and the new year brings Baekhyun a new routine.

He opens the cafe at the same time every morning, and Chanyeol shows up an hour later. This time, he looks well-rested and ready to get started with the day, but Baekhyun has his own work to deal with. Chanyeol sits in the same booth and Baekhyun brings him another cup of milk, but he doesn’t go to sleep.

Baekhyun makes a quip about drinking milk and growing tall—barely hidden envy in his words—but Chanyeol only nods and sips away. He watches Baekhyun for most of the morning, sitting perfectly content in his little booth.

During his lunch break, Baekhyun brings food for himself and Chanyeol. He was flustered by the man’s need for lunch yesterday, so he may or may not have woken up a little earlier to cook something for both of them.

They chit-chat while eating, saving the deeper discussion for the walk home.

“So, do you have, like, a phone?” Baekhyun asks, wondering what Chanyeol does when he isn’t blatantly staring at Baekhyun.

Chanyeol’s nose wrinkles slightly as he smiles. “I was waiting for you to ask. No, I don’t have a phone, but”—he points at his right eye—“I do have something similar.”

Baekhyun squints, leaning over their food to get a closer look. “I don’t see anything.”

“That’s because you’re not supposed to. Rest assured, regardless”—Chanyeol sighs deeply, stretching his arms and smirking—“I’m not actually watching you all day. We have movies in the future too, you know.”

Baekhyun sputters. “It’s not like I wanted you to watch me!”

Later, as they’re cleaning up, Chanyeol questions Baekhyun’s routine—a heinous crime.

“So you work here alone?” He’s helping Baekhyun clean up today, the two of them washing dishes together. Well, Baekhyun washing and Chanyeol drying.

Baekhyun sighs. “Yeah, it’s just me. This place used to be my parents’, and I’ve never had the need to hire anyone else.”

“Don’t want the free time?”

“Free time to do what?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, gesturing to himself. “Do I look like I have a life outside of whatever this is?”

Chanyeol raises his hands. “Fair, fair. I won’t ask about the financial side of things.”

Baekhyun huffs. “Please don’t.”

The other man runs a towel over the final mug—his own—and sets it on the drying rack. “Well—that was the last dish, so I guess I’ll be off. I’ll be expecting my paycheck soon for the hard work I did.

There were only two dishes.

Baekhyun smiles wryly, waving him off.

Later, again, Chanyeol is watching Baekhyun work.

Baekhyun looks at him out of the corner of his eye and notices that he…hasn’t blinked? In almost five minutes? He turns to look at him fully after sending a customer on their way, and—

He winks.

Must be watching yet another movie.

Baekhyun sighs heavily, shaking his head and looking back ahead at the counter.

Later, again, Baekhyun feels Chanyeol’s eyes leave him. After a few hours, he’s grown attuned to the feeling of Chanyeol watching him, and he finishes the drink he’s working on before glancing discreetly at the other man.

Chanyeol is fiddling with something—not his pocket watch, something less shiny, more black and sleek. Like a phone, but Baekhyun can’t catch more than a glimpse behind his infuriatingly large hands.

As if he’s developed the same intuition as Baekhyun, Chanyeol seems to feel Baekhyun’s eyes on him and slips the object into his pocket, turning to shake his head at Baekhyun in exaggerated disapproval.

He wags his finger and Baekhyun rolls his eyes.

Later, again, Chanyeol gets up during a quiet moment and leans against the counter. Baekhyun busies himself with cleaning his area, trying his best to ignore the needy puppy.

“Baekhyun, I’m bored,” Chanyeol whines, drawing out the ‘o’. “Let’s go on a walk?”

He sighs, tossing the cloth he was cleaning with onto the counter and putting a hand on his hip. “We’ll walk when I’m done with work, Chanyeol. If you’re bored, why don’t you teleport away and make yourself busy?”

Chanyeol sighs dramatically, flopping his upper body onto the counter. “But I want to hang out with you, and time traveling means work, and work is worse than boring, and I also want some coffee?”

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose, pushing at Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Get off, you’re like a fish out of water. What’ll you take?”

He makes an offended noise, flopping yet again—onto the ground this time—before standing up and dusting himself off. “Well, it doesn’t have to be three dollars this time, so my options are much less limited—”

“Still limited,” Baekhyun cuts him off. “After how you were yesterday, I refuse to give you anything stronger than a latte.”

Chanyeol scoffs. “But that’s just because I had the coffee at night! I can drink something strong now, it’s barely past noon.”

Baekhyun shrugs. “I don’t care what time it is, no strong coffee for you.”

“Fine”—Chanyeol rolls his eyes, looking over the menu—“I’ll just have a small caramel macchiato, I guess.”

He grins, pulling out the cup. “Coming right up.”

Later, again, Baekhyun is done with work. As with the day before, they walk home together. It’s a chillier day and Baekhyun lets Chanyeol wrap the break room blanket around his shoulders as they exit the building. He really shouldn’t let him—Baekhyun will have to take the blanket back tomorrow (in case Chanyeol is sleepy again), and if it gets dirty he’ll have to wash it (again, in case Chanyeol needs it tomorrow)—but Chanyeol needs it now, so Baekhyun makes do.

Chanyeol snuggles into the blanket, making vague noises of contentment. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, leading the way.

“So how long can you stay?” He asks the first question of the day.

Chanyeol breathes out through his nose. He looks up, avoiding eye contact with Baekhyun. “To be honest, I don’t know. Sorry, I don’t really know more about anything than you do.”

Two days of endlessly dodging Baekhyun’s questions. At least he has the decency to look guilty about it.

Baekhyun groans, looking at Chanyeol. “I hate that you sound so honest about it. I’m beginning to believe that you actually don’t know anything.”

Chanyeol brightens slightly, quirking his eyebrows and smiling wryly. “I really don’t, Baekhyun. Why do you think I spent all day loitering in your cafe?”

“Actually, I was curious about that.” Baekhyun perks up with curiosity. “Surely you have other things to do.”

“Well, I’m good for nothing,” Chanyeol says. “And I’d rather waste my time around you than around my superiors.”

“Your superiors?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, glancing at the other. He’s kicking a pebble around, just like yesterday, looking a little dejected. After a moment of silence, Baekhyun adds on, “You’re not good for nothing, anyways. How can you say that when you can literally time travel?”

Chanyeol chuckles. “Where I’m from—when I’m from—that isn’t very special.”

“Well it certainly is special to me.” Baekhyun crosses his arms, frowning. “Not to mention that you somehow found me without even knowing my name?! You can’t tell me that isn't special even where—when, whatever—you’re from.”

He grins sheepishly. “It was all luck, really.”

“Oh, stop being humble already.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, grinning along with him. “Where’s the cocky asshole from last year?”

Chanyeol turns to face him. “So two days ago is last year now?”

“Technically, yes. I miss the old Chanyeol,” Baekhyun sighs. “Was your new year’s resolution to be more likable or something?”

“Yeah, uh huh. I needed to win you over and clearly my dashing looks weren’t enough.” Chanyeol tosses his head back, pulling out his watch to admire his reflection.

Baekhyun looks at him incredulously. “Do you actually use that as a mirror?”

Chanyeol scoffs, putting it back in his pocket. “I don’t need a mirror—I always look good.”

They walk in silence for a few moments, leaving the center of the city behind them as they enter a quieter residential neighborhood.

“So, got any fun facts about the future?” Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows.

Chanyeol shakes his head, resigned. “No can do. I’m already on thin ice visiting you more than once, we’d both be done for if I told you anything more about the future.”

“You’re in trouble for visiting me?!” Baekhyun supposes he should’ve expected it, but Chanyeol had seemed so relaxed about lazing around in the cafe all day and his confidence bled into Baekhyun’s own attitude.

Chanyeol grimaces. “Well…yeah. I’m working on it, though.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, incredulous. “You don’t have to keep coming every day, you know. I know I seem lonely but I’ve made do for years.”

“Who says I was visiting because you seemed lonely?” Chanyeol raises his eyebrows slightly, but Baekhyun looks down and sees the tips of his fingers quiver in reaction to revealing that piece of information.

Baekhyun exhales slowly, nodding. “Fair enough. Maybe the company is worth it, for now.”

“For now.”

They continue talking quietly until they arrive at Baekhyun’s house, and again they say goodbye. Chanyeol pulls out his watch, Baekhyun pulls out his keys, and they agree to meet again tomorrow.

The routine continues. On the third of January, Chanyeol shows up before Baekhyun can even open the shop. He pulls the (washed, scrubbed clean, dried, dusted from the leaves and dirt Chanyeol had dragged it through) blanket out of Baekhyun’s arms and tosses it over his own head.

“Morning,” Baekhyun says without looking up. He feels his cheeks heat slightly, probably from the sudden rush of cold air on his arms—after all, his arm being cold must mean his cheek feels hotter relatively, right? Nothing else would cause such a reaction, anyways.

They enter the cafe together, Baekhyun putting Chanyeol to work unboxing the new espresso machine. He complains weakly (incessant whines of “Pay me! You’re forcing me into unpaid labor! Pay me!” as if Baekhyun’s money would do him any good in the future) but works hard after Baekhyun reminds him of the alternative. Not that Baekhyun quite understands what the alternative is, but a simple allusion to the “time traveling duties you’re skipping out on” does the job.

Customers filter in and Chanyeol is banished to the break room after one too many regulars notice him hanging off the side of the counter and staring at Baekhyun as he works.

Lunch break comes around and Baekhyun forces the dishes into Chanyeol’s hands before sneaking out to buy them some food. It’s nice, having company in the form of—maybe Chanyeol’s wording was accurate—an unpaid laborer giving Baekhyun a few moments here and there to relax.

Not long later, the dishes are drying and the two of them are scarfing down burgers in the break room. They taste unfairly good for how unhealthy they are, and Baekhyun barely fits in one question toward his initial goal before his mouth is demanding him to take another bite.

“So, can anyone time travel, or…?”

Chanyeol looks up, setting his own burger down. “Well,” he frowns. “It’s a bit convoluted. Technically anyone is capable of time traveling if they have their own watch, but watch production is strictly regulated.”

Baekhyun hums, swallowing. “How did you become a time traveler then?”

“I was randomly selected.” Chanyeol doesn’t pick up his burger again, his eyes focused on a spot somewhere southwest of Baekhyun’s face. “They pick children and raise us in the government.”

“Do you…” Baekhyun clears his throat, shifting his gaze away from Chanyeol. “Do you stay in touch with your family?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Chanyeol is quiet for more than a few moments, and Baekhyun is wondering if he should pretend he never asked when he opens his mouth.

“No.”

Baekhyun nods. “I don’t know exactly how it feels for you, but I know it’s hard.”

Chanyeol nods too. “Where I am now, I get to check up on their records every so often.” He looks up at Baekhyun. “At least I have that.”

Baekhyun’s parents died a long time ago, so the pain of being unable to know how they’re doing has faded into a dull ache that flutters against his ribcage.

“That makes it harder in some ways, doesn’t it? Knowing they’re just out of reach.”

Chanyeol laughs—it’s a wet sound, and he chokes up minutely at the end. “Yeah, yeah…it’s still the best I can ask for.”

They finish eating in silence, and Baekhyun wonders who of the two of them is more lonely.

The rest of the day is simple—Chanyeol is allowed out of the break room on the condition that he acts like a normal person, and they talk idly about Baekhyun’s customers on the way home.

Having made little progress in the way of learning why Chanyeol is here, they agree to meet again tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the same.

Chanyeol helps Baekhyun before opening, embarrasses him in front of his customers during the morning hours, diligently washes the dishes despite his dramatic complaints, rinses and repeats. This time, though, he sneaks out behind Baekhyun to get lunch together.

They eat out, sharing a meal in comfortable outdoor dining—this has the disadvantage of being a public space, so they don’t openly discuss time travel.

Chanyeol takes the opportunity (perhaps he was the one who made the opportunity by begging Baekhyun to let him experience the “twenty-first century outdoor seating vibes”) to turn the focus on Baekhyun.

He asks about his parents, his business, his town. Baekhyun doesn’t have many answers for him—

(“Do you remember them well?”

“Not really. Mom’s hugs were warm.”

“How long have you been running the cafe?”

“A few years or so.”

“Who took it over in the years in between?”

“No one—it was closed, but no one bought the property and I reopened it.”

“Did you ever want to do anything else?”

“Never thought of it.”)

—or maybe he does, but the extreme simplicity of his life, especially compared to Chanyeol’s, is glaring and leaves an uncomfortable taste in his mouth.

Baekhyun ignores it, letting Chanyeol get his fill of his empty life.

They avoid the topic of family on the walk home, Baekhyun instead asking Chanyeol about niche situations relating to time travel:

“I know I said I wouldn’t question it, but what happens if you meet yourself in the past?”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Past or future, doesn’t matter. If I meet myself both versions cease to exist.”

Baekhyun frowns. “If both your past and future versions stop existing, doesn’t every version of you in between and after also stop existing?”

“Yup,” Chanyeol replies. “Technically, I think only the past version is erased—but if my past version is erased, my present version can’t exist either.”

Baekhyun squints. “Technically? You wouldn’t know for sure unless you tried, would you?”

Chanyeol chokes. “Are you kidding? You wouldn’t know what death feels like unless you tried—would you?”

“Okay, whatever, but what happens to the past past version of you?” Baekhyun asks, brushing off the loss. “Like, let’s say you travel back and meet your five-year-old self and you both disappear. One-year-old baby you shouldn’t be affected by whatever happens to five-year-old you, right?”

Chanyeol sighs. “I think I know where this is going…”

Baekhyun grins triumphantly. “So baby Chanyeol does continue to exist! You aren’t completely wiped from existence then, are you? How about you—”

“Don’t you dare—”

“—just give me a watch then go off and meet yourself for the fun experience! I’ll go steal baby Chanyeol and raise him myself, and then you’ll be back to—”

Baekhyun turns to Chanyeol and stops talking the moment he sees his face.

Chanyeol’s mouth is frozen open, his eyebrows twitching slightly. His eyes look almost fearful but the corners of his lips are upturned. His gaze is focused intensely on Baekhyun, the gravity of emotion behind his eyes pinning Baekhyun in place.

“...Chanyeol?”

He shakes himself out of it, blinking rapidly and looking down at the sidewalk. After a few moments of deep breaths, Chanyeol looks at Baekhyun again. He still looks a little shocked, but his cheeks are reddening and there’s more life in his eyes.

“It’s just…the things you’re talking about—they’re federal crimes. Not just crimes, they’re so—I can’t even explain it because”—Chanyeol drags a hand down the side of his face, a smile creeping into his voice despite the serious nature of his words—“they’re taboo, Baekhyun. No one even talks about it, in public or private.”

Baekhyun recoils, diverting his eyes in shame. “Oh my God, you should have told me—”

“No, let me finish,” Chanyeol interrupts him, sounding excited now. “This is so refreshing!”

“What?!” Baekhyun hadn’t been expecting that. “Chanyeol, are you okay?”

Chanyeol grins. “I’m more than okay, Baekhyun. Everything about spending time with you has been a breath of fresh air, but it’s just so freeing to hear someone willing to openly talk about committing crimes—”

Baekhyun freezes. “Woah, I think there’s a misunderstanding. Chanyeol, you weren’t planning on actually murdering yourself and letting me raise a different version of you, right?!”

Chanyeol looks confused. He frowns at Baekhyun, saying, “Why would I ever want to do that?”

Baekhyun sighs, relieved. “No, nothing, just go on.”

The other man brightens. “Right, so as I was saying—being able to actually talk about criminal things in speculation is just so much nicer than avoiding all conversation at all.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun sighs again. He had really taken it to an extreme. “Yeah, I agree…”

“It’s not like we’re doing them, we’re just speculating. It’s philosophy!”

“Yes, Chanyeol—anyways, could we talk about—”

“Since when is philosophy a crime?! Since when is speaking a crime?!!”

“—something else…”

Chanyeol continues marching forward. “It’s so unfair!”

Baekhyun resigns himself to an hour of complaints about the future. With all Chanyeol’s dislike for his job and the general environment of the future, he’s beginning to understand why he prefers lazing around in the cafe all day.

“I’m so glad I met you.” Chanyeol grins at him.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes but finds himself echoing the sentiment, even if he doesn’t say it aloud.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yup,” Baekhyun says, turning the key in its lock. “Tomorrow.”

A week of this passes, Baekhyun waking up every morning with a silent storm of excitement brewing in his mind and going to sleep with the promise of tomorrow starting the same way. It’s almost monotonous in this regard, but Baekhyun appreciates routines and he appreciates having someone following them with him.

He learns more about Chanyeol throughout the week, more from observing his behavior than asking the questions he had intended to at first. By now, Baekhyun believes that Chanyeol really, truly doesn’t know any more about why he’s here than Baekhyun, and the two of them are figuring it out together.

Well, they really haven’t done much figuring out.

Baekhyun brought this up two days ago, on the seventh, and Chanyeol brushed it off as the work of time. (“You can’t force the future to happen. I know what has to happen will happen, because it already happened for me.”)

So instead of questioning each other to make sense of their situation, Baekhyun and Chanyeol spent their time talking about time. Chanyeol’s time in the future, Baekhyun’s time in the present, time travel, time ticking slowly forward as the two of them doze away in the break room.

It’s a comfortable routine, and Baekhyun finds himself liking Chanyeol more and more every day.

On January ninth, Chanyeol doesn’t show up.

Chanyeol isn’t there when Baekhyun opens the cafe, doesn’t stumble in an hour later with bags under his eyes, doesn’t show up for the entire work day. Baekhyun brushes it off for the first few hours—he probably slept in, or had to actually work for once.

Hours pass and Baekhyun continues to serve customers, the quiet atmosphere of the cafe reminiscent of last year (and the year before, and the year before) when Baekhyun was completely alone.

He doesn’t mind, letting himself drift off in the rhythm of taking orders and making drinks and serving drinks and taking orders and making drinks. After all, Baekhyun has been alone for long enough that a few days of company won’t disrupt the balance he’s created.

Right?

Baekhyun has experienced loss, lives with it every day. One day—not even a full day, just a few hours—of being ripped away from the company he’s been enjoying for a week is no different. Baekhyun will manage.

And by all means, he manages. Baekhyun makes small talk with his customers, catches up on the events of the town which he had dismissed during the many days in which Chanyeol was hogging his attention constantly. He quickly realizes how uneventful life is, paying more attention to the gossip of businesspeople and teenagers as they complain loudly at their tables.

Unfortunately, when you befriend a time traveler, everything else becomes boring.

Baekhyun spends his lunch break alone in the break room again. He had made sandwiches in the morning as a break from the takeout and admittedly expensive restaurant food he had been splurging on with Chanyeol; out of habit, Baekhyun sets both out onto the table, almost wishing Chanyeol would appear out of nowhere at the call of food. After eating his own sandwich, he packs Chanyeol’s—still unwrapped—back into the bag.

As Baekhyun continues attending the cafe after lunch, he finds himself becoming hyper aware of movements outside his window. Ever since the first time he met Chanyeol on New Year’s Eve, he’s seen the same butterfly flutter outside the cafe before Chanyeol shows up.

It’s not that he’s desperate for Chanyeol to come back, he’s just…curious. Baekhyun wants a little advance warning if Chanyeol’s coming so he can be prepared to smack him upside the head for not so much as letting him know or leaving a note or something or anything so that Baekhyun would at least know why he isn’t—

Baekhyun blinks.

A strange thought flickers through his head and leaves before he has the chance to grasp onto it or brush it off. It’s not that, though. Baekhyun is just irked by the lack of control he has over this situation.

Supposedly he’s the reason Chanyeol showed up in the situation, but he has no control of when or if Chanyeol will ever come back. It’s stupid that he cares so much—and, fine, Baekhyun will admit that he cares, okay? But it’s absurd for him to be wanting Chanyeol to come back already after just a few hours off routine.

He doesn’t need Chanyeol, and yet—

Baekhyun closes his eyes and sighs. The butterfly isn’t going to show up and neither is Chanyeol, and he just needs to accept that everything about Chanyeol is out of his hands.

He doesn’t like it, but what is he going to do about it? Chanyeol is four hundred years in the future right now.

It’s time to close the cafe, and Baekhyun cleans up while letting his final customer finish their tea. He’s cleaning off the counter with a cloth, taken back to the first night he met Chanyeol. Baekhyun does clean the counter every day, but the last time he did it by himself was that night.

Every day since then, Chanyeol has been at his side or in the booth next to him, watching him work or pestering him about this or that.

Baekhyun clenches his jaw. It doesn’t matter.

He finishes closing up once the last customer leaves, locking up the cafe and rolling his shoulders back. He takes a deep breath, and a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

It’s a butterfly.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes—it’s not the same blue one he’s been seeing all week. This one is red, not even orange, just pure ruby red. The butterfly itself seems to drown in its depths; any light illuminating its wings is absorbed into the crimson abyss.

It lands on a flower in front of the window, upsetting the plant’s balance slightly and pushing it back and forth as it attempts to recover. After the plant stills again, the butterfly ceases all movement. It’s facing Baekhyun, and if he could see its eyes he would swear they were boring into his soul.

An uncomfortable feeling of being seen brushes over his neck.

Baekhyun hears footsteps behind him and whirls around, pulling his bag up in front of his chest as a shield.

In front of him, Chanyeol grins.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, dropping his bag. He points at Chanyeol, squinting. “You better not talk about that.”

Chanyeol raises his hands in the air, grin widening. “Talk about what?”

“Good.” Baekhyun crosses his arms, frowning, before stepping towards Chanyeol. “Now that that’s out of the way, where the hell were you?!”

“Sorry?” Chanyeol pulls back, confused. “I had work to do…?”

Baekhyun was getting ready to argue with Chanyeol about actually updating him on when he’s going to come, but his argument just sounds stupid now. He looks away. “Right…”

“Ohh…” Baekhyun looks back and sees understanding dawn on Chanyeol’s face. “You missed me!”

He coughs. “No, I would just…appreciate it if you let me know when you’re not going to show up at our agreed time.”

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “Technically, we never actually agreed on a time.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up already. Just tell me beforehand if you’re actually going to work, okay? I don’t get to know what’s going on when you are literally hundreds of years in the future.”

Chanyeol raises both eyebrows. “So you didn’t just miss me—you were also worried about me? Aww, Baekhyun—”

He turns away, walking down the street. In the corner of his eyes, he sees a flicker of cherry red. Chanyeol quickly catches up to him, continuing.

“—you’re so sweet!”

Baekhyun doesn’t deny it but continues walking, crossing his arms.

“You made me waste my time waiting for you earlier today, so you’re staying over at my house to make up for it.”

Chanyeol’s jaw drops, but he continues to walk alongside Baekhyun.

When they arrive at Baekhyun’s house, Chanyeol doesn’t pull out his watch. He still stands on the path near the road, shifting awkwardly as Baekhyun makes his way up the stairs and pulls out his keys. After unlocking the door, he turns around and scoffs at the sight of Chanyeol twenty feet away.

Baekhyun storms down the stairs, grabbing Chanyeol’s arm and yanking him up to the door. The other man stumbles up, eyes widening.

“You were really serious about that?!” Chanyeol cries, letting Baekhyun push him into the building.

Baekhyun grumbles. “Of course I was, now even after ditching me in the morning you’re still making me do all the work.”

“Okay, relax”—Chanyeol brushes himself off, standing up straight—“and let’s get to business.”

“Business?” Baekhyun frowns, flipping the light switch on. “What business do you have? I was thinking dinner and a movie.”

Chanyeol’s mouth opens into an ‘o’ shape, jaw dropping yet again. “You want to have a little date with me? Aww, Baekhyun, you’ve really outdone yourself!”

“Oh my—please shut up, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun pulls away, heading to the kitchen.

Chanyeol follows him, continuing. “You were really, really worried about me, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll let you check if I have any wounds. Would that help, Baekhyunnie?”

Baekhyun spins around, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t call me that, Chanyeol! Ewww.”

He scoffs, pulling back. “You don’t like my nickname?” Chanyeol pouts, walking in front of Baekhyun to collapse against the kitchen counter. “Well, if you pull off my shirt now this position will make it easier to examine my body.”

Baekhyun’s face heats up as he turns away from the absurd display, walking toward the fridge. “Shut up about me examining you! I came here to make dinner, Chanyeol. You really aren’t helping your case.”

Chanyeol falls silent and Baekhyun glances back to see him pouting. He whines, “But I’m not hungry yet, Baekhyun!”

“You’re actually going to kill me one day.” Baekhyun facepalms, stopping in his tracks. “Well, what do you want to do before dinner then?”

“Why can’t we talk more? I like talking to you.” Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows, reaching for Baekhyun’s arm. “We can just chill and relax on the couch and…talk.”

He lets himself be dragged around the house before Chanyeol finds his couch. (“Woah, what a cute little couch! So vintage!”)

Chanyeol pushes him onto the cushion before flopping onto the other side. “Sooo, what do you want to talk about?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, sitting up. “You’re the one who didn’t want to eat yet, you pick the topic.”

“Yeah, but it’s not my fault I’m not hungry!” Chanyeol buries his face into the pillow. “Your couch is so cute and uncomfortable.”

Baekhyun makes an affronted noise. “My couch is very comfortable, thank you very much.”

Chanyeol’s voice comes out muffled. “I’m sure it is, Baekhyun. It’s just that, in the future, our couches are even more comfortable. Like sleeping on a cloud.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll believe you if you take me to one of these cloud couches. For now, though, this couch is the only couch you or I know, and that makes it the most comfortable couch.”

Chanyeol hums and they sit quietly for a few moments after that.

Silently admitting that maybe his couch isn’t that comfortable, Baekhyun stretches and rolls out his shoulder after a minute. “Well, if you don’t want to decide what we do, why don’t you tell me about your watch?”

“Of course!” Chanyeol pushes himself up and pulls the watch from his pocket, his playful demeanor sombering quickly as he holds it in his hand. “This is important business, okay? Try to keep a straight face.”

Chanyeol turns the watch over, presenting its full case. The silver metal is plain yet lustrous—Baekhyun’s reflection is almost as clear as if it came from a mirror. But when Chanyeol unclips the chain and sets the watch on the table in front of them, it seems to frost over.

“It’s a full hunter, pendant set watch.” Chanyeol’s talking much more quietly now and with fewer words, his voice filled with respect.

“Hm?” Baekhyun looks up, throwing a questioning look at Chanyeol. He’s looking at the watch rather affectionately. It’s an oddly familiar expression, reminiscent of the first time he saw Chanyeol look at him through the cafe window.

Chanyeol doesn’t elaborate, jutting his chin toward the watch. “Look.”

He turns his attention back to the watch. It really is frosting over—literally. Like winter creeping over glass, the silver is overcome by white frost. Faint snowflakes form atop the ice, popping in and out of existence. By contrast, the chain attached seems to be made of normal metal.

Baekhyun can feel the cold of the watch from where he’s sitting. He looks back to Chanyeol.

“Can I touch it?”

Chanyeol nods, the beginning of a smirk dancing over his lips for a brief second.

He reaches out, brushing his fingertips over the snowflakes. It’s as cold as he expected—no different than pressing your hand against the window at the first sign of snow—but the snowflakes are not brushed off, only melting back into the case.

“Are those snowflakes real?” Baekhyun keeps his eyes on the watch, pulling it closer and leaning down. His breath drifts over the frosted surface but does nothing to heat it up.

Chanyeol’s hand reaches over his own, grabbing hold of the watch. Within seconds, the frost and snowflakes melt away and the case is lustrous once more. He lifts the watch, turning it so Baekhyun can see his distorted reflection on the other side.

“How did you do that?!” Baekhyun cries, pressing his own hand against the watch. It’s as warm as his skin. “How hot is your hand?” His fingers drift over the surface of the watch to grip Chanyeol’s wrist—like the watch, his skin is the same temperature as Baekhyun’s.

“This watch is tailored to me, Baek.” Chanyeol smiles softly, pulling his arm out of Baekhyun’s grip and leaning closer. “Wanna see how it works?”

Baekhyun nods enthusiastically. He feels like a little kid again, the faint grumble of his stomach a distant thought.

Chanyeol points to the top of the watch—“This crown here is what makes this a hunter and pendant set watch.”

Baekhyun nods again. “Pendant. Right. Does that mean you wear it around your neck?” The chain it was clipped to—like the one in Baekhyun’s own pocket—didn’t seem like a necklace, but what else would a pendant be?

“No,” Chanyeol laughs quietly. “It means this.”

He pushes down on the crown, and the case pops open. “Hunter, see? You can pop it open..”

Inside, the watch is plain. There is no art or decoration, only a blindingly white face with a single hand and simple markings. Rather than numbering 1 to 12, the digits around the circumference are marked 0 to 9, and there are no ticks in between the numbers to indicate seconds or minutes.

Chanyeol pulls on the crown and rotates it. The clock hand rotates with it—first clockwise to 2, then counterclockwise to 0, then to 2, then all the way around to 2 again. “Pendant means you adjust the time with the crown.”

Baekhyun looks up to Chanyeol, waiting for an explanation on how to use it. He looks back, the soft smile from earlier still brushed across his mouth.

“Remember how I can only decide the year I can travel to, not the day or time?” Baekhyun nods. “This is how I do it: like a combination lock, 2-0-2-2 for this year. Maybe in the future we’ll be able to pick the date, but for now the technology is pretty restrictive.”

Baekhyun stays silent, admiring the simple technology and the quiet reverence in Chanyeol’s voice despite his critical words.

“Any other questions?”

Baekhyun turns his attention back to the watch. It pulses in Chanyeol’s hand, the white face glowing vivaciously. When he rests his hand on top of it, Baekhyun notes the faint ticking that went unnoticed the few other times he held the watch. It’s a faint sensation, one coming from the inner workings of the watch with no correlation to the passing of seconds.

“The ticking…”

Chanyeol takes a deep breath. “I was waiting for you to say that.” As he speaks, the ticking seems to speed up; it drifts further from the stable, constant ticking of the second hand on any other watch. Instead, its rhythm is reminiscent of a heartbeat.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes, looking back at Chanyeol. “Is it—”

Chanyeol nods. “My pulse. It matches even if I’m not holding it. If someone else were to use my watch, they would have to wait for the ticking to match their own pulse.” He closes the case and hands the watch to Baekhyun. “Try, see how long it takes.”

In the second it takes for the watch to fall into Baekhyun’s palm, it cools from the warmth of Chanyeol’s hand to the chill of a spring breeze. In his own hand, the watch is not icy but remains cloudy with a light frost. He looks back up to Chanyeol.

“Why is it still cold?”

He hums. “That too…in addition to the ticking, the temperature of the watch has to heat to your own body temperature for you to use it. It’s instant for me, but you’ll have to wait awhile.” He looks carefully at Baekhyun, almost wary.

Baekhyun hums, watching and feeling as the watch slowly warms. The cloud melts away at the edges and the ticking speeds up, matching Baekhyun’s anxious pulse as he holds his breath. They line up after a few long moments, his own pulse slowing and the ticking slowing with it.

So this is what it feels like.

Chanyeol is silent as Baekhyun closes his eyes and breathes in the feeling of time. It slides up his wrist, rushing through skin and muscle and into his bones and through his arm and past his shoulder and into his chest—it wraps around his heart, rushing and flowing endlessly. It’s warm and cold at the same time and he shivers with the surge.

When it fills his body and stabilizes, Baekhyun opens his eyes and Chanyeol gestures for him to open the watch. He does, pressing on the crown, and this time it feels different. The glow of its marble face feels warmer and softer, and he’s suddenly very tempted to set the time to any year—next year, last year, Chanyeol’s time, the start of recorded time—and let himself go. It’s almost calling to him, the sharp black hands starting to spin in his imagination, a strong contrast with the watch’s face.

Chanyeol is silent as Baekhyun snaps the case shut, gasping heavily. He takes the watch out of Baekhyun’s hands, freeing him from the burden of time.

“How was it? I’ve never been allowed to let someone else touch my watch.” He’s smiling as he watches Baekhyun recover from the weight of temptation.

Baekhyun sighs. “Really? I’m the first?” Chanyeol nods. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

Chanyeol doesn’t respond to his last question, slipping the watch back into his pocket along with its chain.

Baekhyun frowns, trying to ignore Chanyeol’s persistent refusal to admit whether he’s breaking rules with his visits. “Why do you even have it on a chain if it isn’t attached to anything?”

“Ah, usually it clips to a button on my uniform,” Chanyeol says, stretching out on the couch. “It’s terribly uncomfortable, I prefer to wear clothes like these in my free time.”

Baekhyun smirks, looking Chanyeol up and down. “So that’s why you’re always in one sweater or another? You really love this torn up one.” It’s the same sweater he wore the first time Baekhyun met him.

He makes an affronted noise. “It isn’t ripped or torn, they’re cutouts! And they look like butterflies, that’s why I like them.” Chanyeol pouts, looking the other way.

“You really love butterflies, don’t you? They always show up when you’re around,” Baekhyun laughs.

Chanyeol snaps back to look at him, eyes widening slightly. “You can see—”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, standing up. “You hungry yet? Because I’m starving, and you still haven’t made up for leaving me alone.”

Chanyeol sighs deeply, pushing himself up and off the couch and yawning. “Well, I guess I’ll make myself useful as an apology then.”

“Finally something reasonable comes out of your mouth.” Baekhyun makes his way to the kitchen and pulls open the fridge door, shuffling through the contents of the fridge. He pulls out some vegetables, tossing them at Chanyeol’s face. The satisfying thunk and Chanyeol’s muffled curse that follows it brings a smile to his face. “Get chopping, idiot.”

✧ ✧ ✧

They skip the table and head straight to the couch to eat, Baekhyun fishing a remote out from between the couch cushions and tossing it at Chanyeol. He looks confused for a moment, looking down at the various buttons before throwing Baekhyun a lost look.

Baekhyun sets his plate on a table, leaning closer to look into Chanyeol’s eyes. He hears the other’s breath hitch and Chanyeol leans in a little too. Baekhyun freezes entirely for a moment, feeling as if his breath has stopped, before he shakes it off and returns to his original objective.

He reaches up with one hand to cup Chanyeol’s cheek and stabilize his face as he leans in further, looking closely at his right eye. In his peripheral vision, Baekhyun sees Chanyeol’s lips part—he can almost imagine the light exhale the other allows to escape.

Chanyeol makes a soft sound, his eyes flicking back and forth between Baekhyun’s. “Are you—”

Baekhyun hushes him, humming as he looks closer again. He frowns. “You still wearing those contacts or whatever you said was in your eye the other day? If you do, it’s basically invisible, wow.”

Chanyeol startles, pulling away from Baekhyun’s hand. “I—what?”

“What?” Baekhyun lets his hand drop but doesn’t lean back. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not watching some other movie or whatever while you’re supposed to be treating me to an apology dinner.”

“Right, uh…” Chanyeol mutters, turning to set his own food down before he stands up. “Got a bathroom around here?”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows. “No, actually, I just hold it in until—”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, walking around the back of the couch to the hallway leading to Baekhyun’s bedroom. “I’ll just find it myself.”

“—I reach the cafe, and then—”

“Oh, would you look at that?” Chanyeol looks over his shoulder, pouting at Baekhyun. “You do have a bathroom.”

Baekhyun keeps going, enjoying the opportunity to annoy Chanyeol in turn. “No, that’s just a…pantry. You’re unfortunately going to have to wait—”

“Wait to take my contact out?” Chanyeol pushes the door to the bathroom open, stepping in and leaving room for Baekhyun to follow. They make eye contact in the mirror as Baekhyun flicks the light switch on. “I thought you wanted it out now?”

Baekhyun sighs, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine, I guess you win. I do have a functional bathroom, congratulations.”

Chanyeol laughs, fishing in his pocket for a small case. However, his smile quickly fades as he turns to face the mirror again and leans over the sink.

“I hate this part,” he mutters. “Four hundred years and—you know, we haven’t even progressed that much. Everything’s just smaller now.”

Baekhyun leans against the back wall, watching Chanyeol. “Got any fun facts about what happens in the next four hundred years? Any wars, or I don’t know, meteors?”

“How about”—Chanyeol looks up from his own eyes to look at Baekhyun’s—“instead of telling you, I keep it a secret for now and show you later.”

“Show me?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Like…show me?”

Chanyeol chuckles, nodding, before focusing his concentration back on his eyes. “Ugh, this stupid…”

It’s Baekhyun’s turn to laugh, tossing his head to the side. “You’re such a baby.”

He makes an affronted noise, keeping his gaze focused. “Say that again after you watch me poke my eye out and have to wear an eyepatch for the rest of my life.”

Baekhyun cringes. “Don’t you do this like every night…?”

“Doesn’t make it any better,” Chanyeol mutters, finally raising his finger to his eye. The first time he reaches to press his finger against the lens—after considerable hesitation—his eye flinches closed and he lowers his finger again, giving himself a pep talk. (“You can do this Chanyeol, you got this, you do it every day, who’s the man? I’m the man! Who’s the man? I’m the—”)

The second time, his finger successfully makes contact, but he begins whining as he slides it across his eye. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, turning away at the embarrassing sight.

An extremely powerful time travel from the future, struggling with removing his contact lens like…anyone would.

So human.

Chanyeol eventually removes and stores the lens, but not without copious amounts of complaining. Baekhyun frowns, asking, “Aren’t you going to throw that away?”

He looks up from where he’s carefully sliding the lens into a small case. “Why would I do that? This is precious equipment, you know.” Chanyeol turns back, concentrating almost as much on storing the contact as he was removing it from his eye. “You wouldn’t throw your phone away every time you went to sleep…”

Right. Chanyeol’s as human as Baekhyun, but his contact lens has a goddamn built-in movie theater. Some things will always be different between them.

Baekhyun is further reminded of this when they finally make their way back to the couch—thanking himself for choosing to make a cold dish because anything warm would be a disappointing mess by now—and Chanyeol quietly stares at the TV remote.

“You going to try using that?” Baekhyun speaks through a mouthful as he shovels sweet, sweet, noodly goodness into his mouth.

Chanyeol’s mouth twists before he looks up at Baekhyun with pleasing eyes. “There are too many buttons! What do you do with all of them?” He pouts, stretching his arm out to show Baekhyun the remote.

“Oh my—fine, I’ll show you.” Baekhyun reluctantly sets his food down, reaching for the remote. “This is the power button. And this—look down here, Chanyeol—this lets you scroll through the channels. This is for volume, just leave it for now.”

He hands the phone back to Chanyeol, whose face is now set with determination. “I can do this. I just took out that stupid lens, I can do anything.” He points the remote forward and, turning his body the other way as if anticipating an explosion, presses the power button. A sigh of relief floods through his bones and relaxes them when the television doesn’t blow apart.

Baekhyun just sighs, grabbing his plate again. “You’re so dramatic, just put on a movie and start eating.”

But it’s too late—Chanyeol is rapidly scrolling through the channels, eyes widening. He pouts, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye. “I’ve always wanted a vintage TV like this one. Oh my God! A TV! This is a real TV! Oh, television…it’s so cute, Baekhyun!”

Baekhyun shifts uncomfortably. His TV isn’t, like, state-of-the-art, but it’s still a nice TV. It’s not cute, it’s super cool and fancy and smart and cool. Like Baekhyun himself. A minute into this reflection he notices that Chanyeol has gone quiet and looks in his direction.

Chanyeol is staring at Baekhyun with his mouth open in a wide smile. As Baekhyun watches, he raises a shaky finger up to point at him. “You—You’re pouting!”

Chanyeol collapses into laughter and Baekhyun turns the other way, hiding his smile in a mouthful of noodles. “Shut up,” he mutters, taking a bite as an excuse to avoid responding further.

When he swallows, Baekhyun gestures towards the television. “You have your vintage”—he glares at Chanyeol—“television here right now, so just pick something already.”

It takes Chanyeol a few minutes of scrolling but he eventually settles on a cheesy romcom, finally picking up his plate and beginning to eat. A few peaceful moments pass as the movie introduces its lead before a loud moan makes Baekhyun flinch.

“Baekhyun!” Chanyeol cries. “These noodles are amazing!”

“Just shut up and watch the movie already, idiot.” Baekhyun sets his now empty plate aside, picking up a pillow and digging his face into it to hide his growing blush.

“But Baekhyun, how are you going to watch the movie if your face is buried in that pillow?” Chanyeol reaches over to drag Baekhyun out of his—very comfortable, thank you very much—pillow by the neck of his shirt, forcing him to face the screen. His fingers brush the back of Baekhyun’s neck and he shivers, leaning into the touch before startling and trying to shake Chanyeol off.

“Let go of me!” Baekhyun draws the ‘e’ out, whining (as revenge for Chanyeol’s earlier annoyingness, not because he is a generally whiny person—because Baekhyun is in fact not a generally whiny person.)

Chanyeol does let go of him and Baekhyun pretends he doesn’t miss the tingly feeling of skin brushing against his own, sparks flying across and around his neck like he is a matchbox and Chanyeol a match let loose.

Though he let go, Chanyeol’s fingers do linger over the collar of Baekhyun’s shirt for a moment before pulling away fully. He coughs after a moment of staring blankly at the television, opening his mouth.

“Are you going to change out of your work clothes?”

Baekhyun starts, turning to look at Chanyeol before glancing down at his clothes. “Oh yeah…I usually shower right after coming home, but you distracted me.”

Chanyeol scoffs, crossing his arms. “I distracted you? You’re the one who literally dragged me in here.”

“Whatever.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, trying desperately to return his attention to the movie and failing miserably. “It’s fine, I’ll just change later.”

“Nonsense.” Chanyeol picks up the remote from the table, squinting at the buttons. “I’ll just pause it and you can shower. Let me just figure out how exactly to—”

Baekhyun smiles, standing up. “No need. You can keep watching and give me a recap. Have fun playing around with the buttons if you get bored. Just call me if you need help, okay?”

Chanyeol nods, poring over the remote once again. His fingers drift across the buttons but don’t press any, his attention focused on reading the words and symbols. Baekhyun chuckles, reaching over the couch to turn on the lamp as he walks over to his bedroom.

Some light will help him see a little better.

Twenty minutes later, Baekhyun walks out to the living room in his pajamas, hair still dripping. Chanyeol has set the remote aside but the television’s settings have definitely been messed with—the screen is overexposed, the volume too low, and Chanyeol has managed to zoom into a specific corner of the picture.

Regardless, Chanyeol is watching intently, and as Baekhyun walks around the side of the couch, he sees the other man’s eyes squinting as he tries his best not to blink. His ears must also be straining to hear the audio, and Chanyeol is leaning forward from the couch, hands pressing his weight into his knees.

“Want me to fix—”

“Shh,” Chanyeol hushes him quickly, raising a finger to his lips. “This is beautiful.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, collapsing on the couch next to him. The pillow he had previously pressed his face into is now resting against the back of the couch, and Baekhyun picks it up and maneuvers it behind his back. He reaches with his other arm to pull it around and lean it against the couch arm before pulling his legs onto the sofa and curling up against the pillow.

His toes brush against Chanyeol’s leg and Baekhyun flinches, tucking his legs in closer. He isn’t very used to sharing his space with someone else, but thankfully Chanyeol is too concentrated on the movie to notice. Baekhyun glances at Chanyeol to confirm that he didn’t feel the brief touch, and finds himself unable to tear his gaze away.

Minutes pass like this—Chanyeol staring unblinkingly at the movie, Baekhyun staring unblinkingly at Chanyeol—before a character in the movie (identifiable only by their ankles, the rest of their body somewhere outside of the corner Chanyeol had zoomed into) makes a reference that Chanyeol doesn’t seem to get, his face turning to look at Baekhyun’s in confusion.

“Wha—”

Baekhyun’s face heats up. “I wasn’t—”

“Shh!” Chanyeol holds up a hand, looking at the television again before whisper-shouting in a dramatic fashion. “Speak quietly.”

He sighs, brushing a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t staring at you,” Baekhyun whispers.

“Huh?” Chanyeol whisper-shouts again. “Come closer, I can’t hear you.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “And whose fault is that,” he mutters, before raising his voice slightly. “I’m comfy over here, you should come closer to me.”

Chanyeol shrugs in acquiescence before pulling his own legs onto the couch and pushing himself over, collapsing directly onto Baekhyun. His cheek is pressed into Baekhyun’s shoulder, the rest of his body lining up with Baekhyun’s own.

“You’re so heavy”—Baekhyun throws an arm wildly in the air, hoping to push Chanyeol off and desperately trying to ignore the bright red flush crawling up his neck and the light shivers brushing across his entire body—“Get off!”

“Okay, okay.” Chanyeol adjusts slightly and slides behind Baekhyun instead, pulling his legs up so they tuck in against Baekhyun’s and letting his nose rest against Baekhyun’s nape. “This better?”

“...Yes.” Baekhyun brings his hand back down to cover his face, hoping Chanyeol can’t see how flushed his neck is under the dim light of the lamp behind them.

“Hmm, that’s good.” His focus on the movie having disappeared into thin air, Chanyeol occupies himself with reaching over Baekhyun to grab his hand, lifting both their arms into the air and swinging their hands around like a child.

Baekhyun doesn’t notice this much, letting his arm and fingers be played with. He’s far too occupied with Chanyeol’s warm exhales brushing against his neck—and it seems Chanyeol notices this after just a minute of playing with Baekhyun’s limp hand, because he starts laughing into Baehkyun’s neck.

It’s a ticklish feeling and Baekhyun cringes, turning around quickly to face Chanyeol as best he can. “What are you doing?!”

Chanyeol just keeps laughing, now into the side of Baekhyun’s neck. At some point Baekhyun starts laughing softly too, calming down as he lets himself relax into Chanyeol’s embrace. They lay like this awhile, wrapped perhaps a little too tightly, before Baekhyun wiggles around until Chanyeol loosens his arms.

Baekhyun turns over—with a great deal of struggling—to face Chanyeol, letting his arms rest against his chest and raising an eyebrow until Chanyeol resumes hugging him. Like this, Baekhyun can see the remnants of laughter scattered across his relaxed face, can see the faint hint of pink splashed across his cheeks, can imagine the flecks of color sprinkled across his eyes in the dim light.

Chanyeol’s face is still dim against the flaring light behind him, so Baekhyun leans closer and closer and just a little bit closer—until he can see individual freckles and can look straight into the depths of brown eyes reflecting the glaring television screen.

He sees Chanyeol blink and his eyelashes flutter, and suddenly their noses brush against each other. Chanyeol leans in too now, close enough that their breaths mix.

Their lips brush against each other, and Baekhyun smiles.

Chanyeol smiles too, and the rest of the night is spent laughing into each other’s lips as the television murmurs a love story through bright lights and soft words.

Baekhyun wakes up alone, wrapped up in his blankets. He’s flopped over the whole bed and there’s no sign of disturbance (of someone waking up and leaving early)—Baekhyun doesn’t expect that Chanyeol stayed the night, anyways.

He gets ready and makes his way to the cafe; of course, Chanyeol isn’t here either. Hours pass, and he doesn’t show up. Lunch passes, and he doesn’t show up. The afternoon passes and he still hasn’t shown up.

Baekhyun isn’t worried, of course. After all, he did the same yesterday and came home—came back perfectly fine. Chanyeol has a job to do as well.

The cafe is closed now and Baekhyun is walking home alone.

He’s opening the door alone, walking into his house alone, showering alone, cooking dinner alone, fixing the television settings alone, putting on an enticing romcom and leaving the remote on the other side of the couch alone, letting his eyes drift to the window and stay glued there for the flicker of a butterfly’s wings, for any possibility, any chance—alone.

Baekhyun wakes up alone and a new routine forms.

It isn’t the same as his self-sufficient routine of years past—he can’t drive Chanyeol out of his mind, brings the leftover sandwich from yesterday to today’s lunch break (and tomorrow’s), waits for a few minutes brushing the same cloth over the same counter before closing the cafe a little late, makes a little extra dinner every night, puts on a cheesy movie and sets the remote out as an offering today, tomorrow, the next day, the day after.

He doesn’t let himself think about what happened the last day Chanyeol was here—doesn’t let himself wonder if that was why he left. If he did, he would certainly break down. And if Baekhyun is broken down, then he won’t be ready to listen when Chanyeol finally shows up and explains himself.

Baekhyun starts carrying the chain Chanyeol gave to him in his pocket again, letting his fingers drift down to it when he feels the most lonely. It’s grounding, pulling something that reminds him of how quickly his world can be overturned—his loneliness vanquished—out of his nightstand and keeping it as a constant reminder.

Baekhyun needs to be ready at all times because if he isn’t ready then he’ll let himself go. He needs to be ready anytime for anything, any way Chanyeol will show up.

Four days pass after the last time Baekhyun saw Chanyeol, and he wakes up to the same routine on the fifth—January 14th. Not long later, he’s unlocking the cafe and bringing the blanket out of the break room to set in Chanyeol’s booth—if Chanyeol needs a nap before he explains himself, Baekhyun will give it to him.

Time passes, and he brings out a second sandwich for his lunch break, sitting at the booth. After a few minutes, Baekhyun hears a bell jingle as the door opens. He curses under his breath—did he forget to flip the sign to closed?

“Sorry!” He calls, swallowing. “We’re closed for lunch right now!”

“Baekhyunnie!” A familiar voice calls back, footsteps clacking against the floor. “I missed you!”

He stands up quickly, stepping out from the booth to look at Chanyeol. Baekhyun frowns at the sight. To be honest, he was expecting Chanyeol to be a little rattled or stressed or exhausted to explain his absence—and as guilty as he feels for wanting that (because it’s how Baekhyun himself feels), whatever this is doesn’t really feel right.

Chanyeol…is wearing a suit. His hair is styled to show his forehead, and he’s dressed up in a very formal looking suit—black jacket over a black shirt (there’s probably a black tie somewhere in there) and black pants, topped off with a—black—handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket. It’s incredibly odd and way too luxurious for a cafe trip, especially coming from Chanyeol, who wears the same torn up sweater every other day.

And his face—it’s practically sparkling from where he’s staring back at Baekhyun in the middle of the room and Baekhyun vaguely thinks that he must be wearing makeup, because no one can look so utterly radiant without any makeup. There’s something more to it, though, that brings an overwhelming sense of deja vu to Baekhyun—because he looks a little off.

Something’s just a little different about his face, and it isn’t just the blinding gorgeousness.

“You—” Baekhyun’s voice cuts off, and he swallows again. “You look…”

“Amazing?” Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “I know, thank you very much. But there’s no time for compliments—it’s time for our date! Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Our…what?” Baekhyun mumbles, still lost in trying to pinpoint what feels weird about Chanyeol, aside from…everything.

Chanyeol lifts his hands and Baekhyun finally notices what he’s been carrying around.

“Our date, of course!” He exclaims, tossing a small bouquet of wildflowers at Baekhyun’s face. “This is your hint for today, but you’ll never guess where we’re going.”

Baekhyun flinches and catches the flowers, his eyes focusing on the other object in Chanyeol’s hand—a wooden box. “What’s that for?”

Chanyeol laughs, hiding the box behind his back. “That’s a secret, Baekhyun—come on already, we’ve got to get going! I thought you’d be more prepared, we planned this weeks ago…”

Baekhyun finally snaps back to reality. “Wait, wait—what are you on about? A date? Planned weeks ago? Chanyeol, what on earth is going on?”

Chanyeol frowns. “What do you mean? This isn’t anything out of the ordinary—well, this is”—he pulls the box out from behind his back, waving it around so Baekhyun can hear something rattling against the edges—“but the rest is the same as usual, so…”

He trails off, a pensive look overtaking his face.

Baekhyun’s fist clenches around the flower stems. “Chanyeol, I don’t know what you think you’re talking about, but you need to shut up right now and tell me why you left five days ago.”

“Left?” Chanyeol stays still for a few moments. “Left…”

A look of shocks overtakes his face—his eyes and jaw drop open, the shock quickly evolving into horror. “Baekhyun, what year is it?!”

“What year—” Baekhyun drops the flowers, finally realizing what the deja vu was all about. “You’re not my Chanyeol!” It was harder to notice because he didn’t look different in the same way, but this Chanyeol is…

He’s older.

(And Baekhyun tries to ignore the warmth blossoming in his abdomen when he gets the chance to call Chanyeol ‘mine.’)

“Okay, well you’re not my Baekhyun!” Older Chanyeol runs a hand through his hair, worrying his lip. “Is it 2022? Am I here?!”

Baekhyun picks up the bouquet and tosses it onto the counter, pacing nervously. “Uh, yeah that’s the year, and um—what? Of course you’re here, I’m looking at you right now!”

“No, I mean—is your Chanyeol here?”

Baekhyun tries not to preen at the sound of that, and shakes his head before his eyes widen with a sudden thought. “He could show up at any moment, though—he hasn’t been here in days, and—”

Older Chanyeol’s eyes widen too. “Oh, I remember. Oh no. I’ve got to hide, I’ll be here any minute—”

“Oh my God.” Baekhyun rushes forward, grabbing Older Chanyeol’s arm and pulling him around the counter to the door of the break room. “Just sit tight in here, okay?”

Older Chanyeol nods, sitting very tightly on one of the chairs. His entire body looks tense with anxiety.

Baekhyun sighs. “Look, obviously you know I care about you. I’ll make sure you both make it out without me having to steal your watch and kidnap baby Chanyeol, okay?”

The memory brings a smile to Older Chanyeol’s face, and he relaxes slightly, nodding.

“I trust you, Baekhyun. Always have.”

Baekhyun’s breath hitches and he closes the break room door. Hearing his name fall from this Chanyeol’s lips, with so much…love, doesn’t help his racing heartbeat. The warm feeling from earlier reaches up and fills his chest, wrapping around his ribs and tightening until he can barely breathe; it reminds him of holding Chanyeol’s watch, feeling time flow through him.

When he turns around, Baekhyun sees Chanyeol—his Chanyeol—standing outside the window; his heart stops.

He walks to the door in a daze, opens it and tries his best to smile. Is he breathing? What is going on? If Chanyeol enters the break room at all—

He’ll die.

The tight feeling in his chest tightens further and Baekhyun loses the ability to think. He turns his focus to Chanyeol. His Chanyeol looks bone-weary—Baekhyun feels a wave of guilt wash over himself for wishing this upon him—and he doesn’t say a word as Baekhyun leads him to the booth. He just collapses into his seat, ignoring the blanket across from him until Baekhyun grabs it and tosses it over him.

“Take a nap and then we’ll talk, okay?” Chanyeol nods, laying on his side.

Baekhyun makes his way to the break room after Chanyeol’s eyes have closed, opening the door a crack and peeping on Older Chanyeol. He’s curled up on the chair, his suit slightly wrinkled and hair ruffled, arms wrapped around the wooden box.

He remembers the flowers on the counter and steps out, closing the door quietly behind him. Thanking his absurd luck that Chanyeol seemed too tired to notice, Baekhyun quickly grabs the flowers and slips into the break room. He considers waking Older Chanyeol up and telling him to go, but as he steps closer Baekhyun finds himself unable to disturb the other man.

Older Chanyeol might as well be his Chanyeol when he’s sleeping. There’s an ageless quality to the look of serenity on his face—distinctly, Baekhyun wonders if the young Chanyeol he had met for only a few minutes looks the same when his eyes have closed as well.

Baekhyun tiptoes to the chair Older Chanyeol is snuggled into and tucks the bouquet between his fingers and the box. His hands tighten unconsciously around the stems.

A few hours later, Baekhyun is drifting in and out of sleep in the booth across from Chanyeol. His hand rests on the weight of the chain in his pocket, the quiet company of comfortable silence letting him relax for the first time in five days.

Chanyeol wakes up with a start, his knee hitting the table and jerking Baekhyun awake as well. They both startle, Chanyeol eventually sitting up fully and letting the blanket fall off his lap.

“Wha—” Chanyeol clears his throat, looking around. “Is it still your lunch break? I tried to get here at the start, but I was late.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “It’s almost closing time, actually. I didn’t reopen after lunch.”

Chanyeol frowns. “Why not?”

“Because—” Baekhyun stops himself, eyebrows furrowing. He was going to tell him about Older Chanyeol’s visit, but if Older Chanyeol himself didn’t realize that he came to the wrong year, then—

If Baekhyun were to tell Chanyeol now, then Chanyeol would know. And if Chanyeol knows, then Older Chanyeol knows too. And Older Chanyeol wouldn’t act that way if he knew.

So Baekhyun keeps his mouth shut for a moment, pensive. “I wanted us to be alone.”

Chanyeol seems to catch onto his meaning—his frown disappears and is replaced by a wince, but he doesn’t say anything.

Baekhyun continues. “You’ve had your nap in addition to your four days of zero communication. I don’t really know what’s going on, but I know that I’ve enjoyed the past few weeks and I don’t want to lose whatever—”

“Don’t. Just stop for a second.” Chanyeol sighs, running a hand through his hair and blinking the remaining sleep out of his eyes. “I can’t just hear you say that right now and I’m sorry, but I need to explain things to you before you go on.”

Baekhyun listens, nodding for him to continue.

“I—I can’t keep coming here.” Chanyeol looks down at the table, bringing his hands together over it. “Believe me, I want to, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

Baekhyun just tries to keep breathing around the growing obstruction in his lungs.

“I got too greedy.”

Greedy…

Baekhyun stays silent and turns his head away to look out the window, words racing through his mind: my Chanyeol, a date across time, my Baekhyun, greedy, too greedy. The thorns in his lungs release for a moment and he’s able to think clearly.

The chain for a pocket watch in Baekhyun’s pocket. Daily visits for far too long to be appropriate. Chanyeol skipping work every day to rest his head in his palm and watch Baekhyun. A silver pocket watch dusted with frosty snowflakes swinging back and forth, warming up to Baekhyun’s hand, ticking along with his heartbeat.

Butterflies fluttering outside his window. Chanyeol grumbling about work or his boredom or his fancy contact lens. A dim light illuminating Chanyeol bent over a remote.

The taste of Chanyeol’s smile. The sound of his laugh, the feeling of his lips, the faint frizz of his hair against a backdrop of gleaming light.

His Chanyeol.

It’s too soon to be thinking the thoughts in Baekhyun’s mind, it’s barely been a week, and yet—

At the same time, it’s been years.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on the window but he opens his mouth because he’s finally figured it out, and he begins to say—

I love you.

—and somehow it comes out as, “You love me.”

Chanyeol is silent and Baekhyun turns to see him blink once, twice.

Outside the window, a butterfly descends rapidly into the flowers decorating the storefront. Seconds before it crashes, its two blue-black-blue wings flutter once-twice-thrice and it catches itself. It’s a clear, sunny day but small drops of water weigh down the butterfly’s wings. The glittering drops reflect pinpricks of light into the cafe, drifting across the floor and the walls and the booth and their skin.

The butterfly settles on a flower’s stalk, falling perfectly still as the water slowly rolls off its wings. The light sparkling across Chanyeol’s face is silver and gold at the same time, silvery-blue water and gilded sun.

Chanyeol sighs. “Yes, I do.”

Baekhyun knows this by now, and yet—

“I’ve loved you for years.”

—it’s like he’s drowning in the sun.

Warmth spreads through his body again, starting at the top of his head and cascading over his shoulders, rushing into his chest and filling up its gaping cavity, spilling over the edges and down his arms and dripping off his fingertips, trickling all the way down to his toes.

Baekhyun smiles.

Chanyeol’s eyes are sad, but he smiles too and Baekhyun sees the familiar look that he saw the first time he ever looked into Chanyeol’s eyes: it’s love—mixed with nostalgia and longing and desperation, but love nonetheless.

From the moment Chanyeol saw him, he was looking at Baekhyun with love.

Baekhyun remembers a distant conversation about loss and loneliness and realizes with a pang that he’s had someone loving him all this time. Chanyeol has been so devastatingly alone for just as long and now Baekhyun has the chance to be the person who loves him.

He grasps at that chance, holds it tightly like a lifeline.

“I love—”

“Save it,” Chanyeol snaps, his smile fading as he turns away.

Baekhyun flinches but stays quiet, waiting for Chanyeol to continue.

He sighs, still looking away. “Look, I want this so much. You have no idea how long I’ve been looking for you, but—I just can’t right now. Maybe in the future, but not now.”Chanyeol turns to look him in the eyes. “Don’t make me go through that.”

Baekhyun is silent for a moment, letting his love show through his eyes at the very least. The pinpricks of light scattered across Chanyeol’s face flicker, slowly drifting off as the butterfly adjusts its wings until all that’s left is Chanyeol.

After seconds or minutes or hours of quiet contemplation, Baekhyun opens his mouth.

“What am I going to go through?” he asks. “I won’t say it, but you know it, and I know it. How long will it be?”

Chanyeol reaches tentatively for his hand. Baekhyun lets him brush his fingers over his knuckles. “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

Baekhyun frowns. “How am I supposed to know when that is? How will you know?”

He grimaces, holding Baekhyun’s hand tightly. “I can’t tell you that right now.”

“Like everything else?” Baekhyun is growing frustrated, on the verge of pulling his hand away. “Can’t you like…leave a note, or some kind of communication—or anything?”

“Baekhyun—”

“—I just feel like I have no control!” Baekhyun pulls his hand out of Chanyeol’s grip, trying not to feel guilty when Chanyeol’s fingers reach out to him. “Can you really not give me anything to work with besides a ‘maybe later’?!”

Chanyeol slumps over as if the strings holding him up have been cut, and Baekhyun wonders for the first time in a long time how much more he really knows that he refuses to tell.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and pulls the chain out of his pocket, setting it on the table next to Chanyeol’s outstretched fingers.

“Just—take this and go. It’ll be easier for you after all.” Baekhyun turns away to hide the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, standing up. “Promise you’ll bring it back with you, okay?”

When he looks back to steal one last glance at Chanyeol, he’s already gone.

✧ ✧ ✧

The break room is empty when Baekhyun peeks inside; Older Chanyeol must have woken up and left earlier. Their conversation seems so far away now, along with the dream of being picked up for a date by Chanyeol, the same Chanyeol who agreed to leave without saying goodbye.

Baekhyun tries not to think too hard about it as he reopens the shop for the final few hours. He hopes chatting with his customers will distract him but it only sucks whatever remaining energy was in his body out of him.

The sunny view from the front of the cafe seems perfectly still, as if time has frozen. No butterflies fluttering about the flowers, no rain slipping out of the clouds, not so much as a breeze rustling the leaves. It mocks Baekhyun, a cruel reminder of the stagnance of his life.

Every step taking him home is exhausting, draining whatever is left of him until he’s nothing but a bag of skin and bones collapsing onto his bed. Baekhyun skips dinner, skips dessert, leaves the television remote to collect dust on the table. He falls asleep quickly, dreaming faint glimpses of blue and red and silver and sunlight’s brush painting gold onto skin; he looks up at Chanyeol’s golden skin and golden lips and golden eyes and watches him blink slowly and reaches out to feel just how soft he is.

His hand passes through the mirage made from sun and rain, and Baekhyun wakes up. He stays in bed for minutes or maybe hours, trying to fall asleep again so he can imagine Chanyeol is next to him. It’s too late for him now—he knows that Chanyeol has overtaken his mind, and the years he’s spent alive and alone before this one are incomparable to the days he’s had with his Chanyeol.

Eventually his stomach growls and Baekhyun forces himself to get up and eat some leftovers. Of course, the fridge mocks him with the extra food he had made for Chanyeol yesterday morning, and he forces himself to stomach it—if only to avoid starvation.

Baekhyun tries to sit on the couch for a few minutes, but the overwhelming memory of Chanyeol tucked up on his couch poring over his remote under soft light takes him over, and he turns around sharply, heading down the hall and back to his bedroom.

He falls asleep again and doesn’t wake up until it’s dark out. A pang of something painful strikes against his heart when he realizes no one has contacted him—he wonders if his customers simply walked past the cafe without a second thought, if Chanyeol is ever going to show up again.

Part of him knows that Chanyeol has to come back—he’s seen him come back; however many years in the future it was supposed to be, Older Chanyeol was taking him on a date. And yet, it seems inconsequential because that wasn’t his Chanyeol. Baekhyun’s Chanyeol is the one who left him without so much as a goodbye.

Baekhyun skips dinner and lies awake all night.

He sleeps through the day again and wonders if this is going to be his new routine. It feels awful and his dreams are barely about anything anymore, just a pitch black abyss with flecks of color flickering through it, but he doesn’t have the energy for anything else.

Not for the first time, he wishes someone else would swoop into his house and force him to get up and get ready. Night is a comfortable time because he can imagine a butterfly flying past his window under the cover of darkness and pretend someone’s going to knock on his door at midnight.

Baekhyun falls asleep eventually, bemoaning how little control he has over the one thing he actually cares about.

When he startles awake on the morning of the eighteenth—the fourth day after Chanyeol left—Baekhyun’s tears have dried and a burning passion and need to do something flickers through his body. It’s a remnant of whatever he dreamed of, but it’s quickly slipping through his fingers as he sits up on his sheets.

Yet another feeling he’s lost control of. Baekhyun wants to scream in frustration at his life, sitting here and waiting for someone else to tell him what to do next. Even the act of getting up and brushing his teeth feels like too much and he doesn’t have so much as a friend to drag him into work.

Baekhyun only has himself, again.

As he spends a few more minutes moping in bed, fragments of his dream start popping into the front of his mind: Chanyeol’s there, bathed in gilded sunlight. A butterfly flutters around them, circling Chanyeol’s head but then he’s turning around, facing away from Baekhyun. Chanyeol starts to walk away, taking slow, reluctant steps. The butterfly disappears.

Baekhyun is still for a few moments as he watches Chanyeol keep walking away, his pace slowly picking up. He waits for Chanyeol to turn around, to say he’ll stay, to look at Baekhyun—to do something, but he doesn’t. Baekhyun finds himself frozen in place, but as Chanyeol’s figure becomes smaller and smaller and smaller and he shows no sign of turning back, something in Baekhyun snaps.

He calls out to Chanyeol, takes one step and then another and another until he’s running and Chanyeol hears him shout and—finally, finally—he turns around. Chanyeol stays in place, watching as Baekhyun runs closer and wraps his hand around Chanyeol’s wrist.

This time, Baekhyun feels warm skin under his fingers before his eyes snap open. He’s still sitting up in bed, but something has changed now.

Even if Baekhyun has no say in Chanyeol’s life, he has every say in his own. He shouldn’t need someone else to drag him out of bed—that’s up to him.

And when he’s ready, Chanyeol will be back.

Baekhyun opens the cafe at a later time, but it’s open and that’s all that matters. It took him almost an hour to push through getting ready and actually eating something for breakfast, but it was worth it to be able to breathe in the warm sunlight soaking the cafe.

He unlocks the door, stepping into the lonely little building. A strange pang of guilt hits him as he realizes that in some way, this small cafe was maybe alone without him too.

After only a few moments of glancing around, Baekhyun spots the first note.

There’s a pink square of paper resting on the counter with something silver set next to it. He frowns, stepping closer—no one else should have access to the cafe. As Baekhyun approaches the counter, the silver takes a more distinct form and his heart begins to speed up.

It’s the chain he gave back to Chanyeol four days ago. Saying to bring it back with him.

So is Chanyeol giving up? Baekhyun really should have stayed home, of course coming out of his shelter was bound to be a mistake. A part of him is still certain that it has to go right somehow, clinging onto the dream of Chanyeol taking him on a date—but could the future be changed? What if that Chanyeol doesn’t exist anymore because Baekhyun messed up and now Chanyeol won’t let him love him—

He walks closer and picks up the chain, fingers grasping onto it tightly. At the very least, Baekhyun should read whatever note Chanyeol wrote to say goodbye forever, but he struggles to so much as look at the frustratingly bright pink paper.

It mocks him from the corner of his eye, a presence too obnoxious to ignore—much like Chanyeol, but lacking the fondness Baekhyun’s come to associate with him.

Baekhyun sighs, slipping the chain back into his pocket and picking up the note. It’s written in a messy scrawl and he has to take a moment to decipher the atrocious handwriting—this must be his first time reading Chanyeol’s writing—but when he does, it’s…odd.

Hey, Baekhyun! Last night, I forgot about your warning and drank some coffee. And now I’m sooooo sleepy and it didn’t even taste that good to make up for it :( I miss your coffee. My superiors were being so dramatic today talking about safety or whatever and I slept through their lectures. Apparently that’s bad and now I’m “in trouble” and I have to “apologize.” So annoying. Anyways, here’s your chain back! You’re going to need it in a bit. I’m working hard so I’ll be able to see you soon!!

It certainly isn’t what Baekhyun was expecting, but he isn’t quite sure what exactly it is. Baekhyun wonders vaguely if Chanyeol was actually drunk when he wrote this instead of just “sleepy.”

But Baekhyun is still literate and the letter pretty clearly says Chanyeol will “be able to see you soon!!” Rereading those words erases the worry that came from seeing the chain returned and fills Baekhyun with a little warm, tingly feeling. He manages to find a little more energy from reading through the note again and makes his way around the counter.

After standing at the counter for almost five minutes and reading through the note countless times, the small smile on his face growing wider and wider, Baekhyun spots a regular customer in front of the cafe and is startled. He quickly slips the note under the counter, replacing his goofy smile with one more appropriate for a barista.

Baekhyun finds his attention drifting back to the note throughout the day—multiple customers ask him why he’s smiling weirdly and looking down, and every time he realizes he was staring at the pink slip of paper under his counter yet again. It’s an odd reassurance, Chanyeol simply complaining about his day, but the casual nature and the bits here and there about missing Baekhyun and seeing him soon make it feel like he’s still there.

The day passes quickly, and Baekhyun makes his way to the break room for the first time to eat his lunch. While closing the door behind him, he catches sight of yet another slip of paper, this one plain white, on the table.

A smile grows on Baekhyun’s face as he walks (runs) to the table and picks up the note. It reads:

Baekhyun!! I had the most boring day ever!!! It was so boring I wish I was back in your cafe watching your pretty face as you work. You know, your hands are so pretty my eyes always drift down to them when I’m trying to focus on your eyes.

Baekhyun takes a break from reading, heart pounding. He knows Chanyeol is madly in love with him by now, but…wow. After taking a moment to take a few deep breaths and cool off, he keeps reading.

I wish your hands were here so I could hold them.

What?! Baekhyun sets the note down as gently as he can before jumping up and down and letting out a silent scream. What business does Chanyeol have being so flirty when he’s the one who told Baekhyun not to tell him—

Oh well. It’s not like Baekhyun’s complaining, anyways. The compliments and flirtatious words feel good regardless of Chanyeol’s last visit and he lets himself bask in the sunny feeling. Before long, Baekhyun knows, these little notes won’t be enough. But until then, they are. He continues reading.

You won’t believe how many times I fell asleep during work today. And I didn’t even have coffee last night!!! I’ve been trying so hard to maintain a good sleep schedule but I just get so bored and then I yawn once and all of a sudden I’m dreaming about you again. Anyway, here’s a retro “acronym” I learned today! TTYL (it means talk to you later if you didn’t know)!!

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at the last line, trying and failing miserably not to blush at the idea of Chanyeol dreaming about him. The idea shouldn’t be odd, given that he’s dreamt about the other more than once, but it still feels funny receiving such affection.

Before he realizes it, Baekhyun’s entire lunch break has passed with him standing and staring at the second note and the jingle of the door alerts him to the presence of yet another customer. He quickly makes his way out of the break room, smiling and sliding the small piece of paper clutched in his hand under the counter with the other note.

It isn’t long before he discovers the third note, and the fourth. One is sitting at Chanyeol’s booth, a pastel blue, and discusses fun facts about television (in addition to the ever-present theme of being bored at work—Baekhyun wonders if he underestimated how bad it was even when Chanyeol preferred doing literally nothing over working.) A few lines at the end are scribbled out, probably relating to the future.

The other is already slipped in the shelf under the counter—Baekhyun swears it wasn’t there before his lunch break, but when he turns around to serve a drink and causes a small gust of wind to knock the white note out of the shelf, then ducks down to pick up said note, he notices yet another piece of paper tucked away. It’s another pink note set next to the first one.

Hellooooo. Today was yet another boring day at work!! Not surprising. I just wanted to check in, hope the cafe is going well!! Saw you opened it today, that’s good. I really wanted to come back and say hi but you know as well as I do that I can’t. I’m working on it though!!! I swear. We’ll both be ready for it soon enough.

Baekhyun frowns at this note, confused at Chanyeol’s cheerful tone when the last time he mentioned being unable to do…this, he was dejected beyond belief. He supposes it’s a little easier to sound happier in writing.

By the end of the day, Baekhyun collects some tape and sticks the notes side by side on the very edge of the counter—this way, he can read them clearly whenever he wants. And they don’t fly to the ground and cause him to embarrass himself scrambling for little bits of dirty paper in front of his distinguished customers.

He leaves the cafe with a small smile on his face.

Baekhyun returns the next day in a considerably worse mood. His home is empty and lonely and without so much as a butterfly flying past his window. Yesterday, he made the mistake of leaving all of Chanyeol’s notes at the cafe. Today, he promises himself, he’s going to bring at least half home to keep himself company.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so dependent on someone else’s words, but it’s also a little hard to gain so much and lose it again every day. Baekhyun’s a dramatic soul, and letting go of the little things that make him happy is equivalent to tearing out his heart over and over.

Regardless, his mood is brightened somewhat by the plethora of notes plastered around his cafe. Chanyeol has switched to using regular sticky notes—which makes it easier for Baekhyun to keep them organized on his counter, but also means Chanyeol can stick them all over the cafe.

All. Over.

When Baekhyun opens the door, he’s greeted with a rainbow of sticky notes covering his walls and scattered over all the tables. It’s only a few minutes before he’s due to actually open the cafe—look, Baekhyun was expecting to wipe the counters down and read one or at most two notes, not…this—so he’s thrown headfirst into a mad rush tearing various notes off the walls and fishing them out of many nooks and crannies that even Baekhyun didn’t know existed.

How and why Chanyeol decided to stuff a note into the gap between the leftmost chair’s body and loose leg, Baekhyun will never know. He only glimpses the flash of blue when furiously swiveling his head and manages to pry it out of the tiny gap.

Needless to say, by the time Baekhyun is opening the cafe, he’s exhausted and hasn’t so much as skimmed even one of the notes. Nevertheless, he puts on his work smile and greets his first customer, itching for the opportunity to look down and read even a single word.

Baekhyun may have exaggerated the number of notes slightly (a lot), but the grand total of seven from overnight still makes him smile. Four of them had been on the wall (red, yellow, green, and the same white as yesterday), two resting on tables (another pink as well as purple), and only one hidden in a corner (pastel blue, in the stupid chair leg).

Admittedly, most of Baekhyun’s frantic cleanup was caused by that specific note in the chair. For all he knows, there are more hidden in very specific spots, but that was the only secret one Baekhyun actually found.

He still reads them all with a smile on his face during his break. They’re all equally mundane, though each has a different topic.

Baekhyun, you won’t believe when I time traveled to today!! Well, I can’t actually tell you when or where, but it was really cool! I swear!!!!!!!

Today, I ate some chocolate and wanted to cry. I don’t think I ever told you, but I HATE chocolate. It’s so yucky and bitter, bleh.

Baekhyun himself wants to cry at that note. He remembers Chanyeol refusing hot chocolate and taking milk instead, but wow. Hate, huh? That’s another level of betrayal.

Hmm, I think what I miss the most is the feeling of your lips—

He drops the white note, opting to leave it on the floor for now and move on.

I’m really working hard to fix everything!! It’s boring work of course but I’m still doing it even though I would rather be doing nothing and leeching off of you instead :(.

He still wonders what exactly it is Chanyeol needs to do to “fix everything,” but Baekhyun tries his best to accept that he’ll always be in the dark when it comes to Chanyeol’s side of things—at least .

It hurts a little to not be given the answers he’s wanted since the beginning, but at least he’s been able to take the time to assert his presence in his own life. Regardless, Baekhyun can’t wait for the day Chanyeol returns.

The notes are nice, but they’re nothing compared to a living, breathing, real person. There’s something grounding about someone standing here in front (or behind, or to the side, or dancing around him with flighty steps as Chanyeol does when he’s excited) of him.

It’s barely been a day since I last saw you but I still miss you so much. Remember last year, when— Something was scratched out here, a thick scribble of black marker covering whatever words Chanyeol wrote. Sorry, forgot that was a spoiler!! See you very soon, Baekhyun.

This note is the pastel blue one, and Baekhun skims through it with a bit of confusion—after all, it’s been much more than a day since he saw Chanyeol. It must be an old note from the day after Chanyeol left, when Baekhyun was still holed up in his house.

He ignores the part about “last year”—it must be another one of Chanyeol’s odd time travel shenanigans.

Baekhyun continues to receive notes every day, but still doesn’t catch sight of Chanyeol even once. It’s frustrating enough that his smile shrinks when he spots the notes instead of growing, but their contents are still cute enough to reverse the process.

Three days after he read the first note—January 21st—Baekhyun finds himself growing annoyed. Every note is cute, yes, but also incredibly vague and mundane. It’s reminiscent of Chanyeol dodging his questions left and right from the beginning and words on paper are no longer a suitable replacement for Chanyeol’s actual presence.

Every day since he left has been bright and sunny, and Baekhyun’s beginning to miss the snow and the rain. Looking out the window, he sees the same still scene every time; now, Baekhyun is stifled by the growing heat and light.

Today, he closes the cafe early and stays inside, dragging a stool to the counter so he can sit and look at the variety of notes. They’re all the same colors—pink, white, pale blue, purple, red, green, yellow. With nothing else to think about, Baekhyun taps out a rhythm on the weight of the ever-present chain in his pocket and organizes the notes by color with his other hand.

There are five pink notes, four blue and white, and three of all the others. Baekhyun admonishes himself for devolving to Chanyeol’s levels of boredom, but the closer he looks, the more he notices small differences between them:

For one, the pink notes are the only ones that mention anything about “fixing” things or being able to see Baekhyun again. The rest simply end with “See you soon!” or talk about being lonely at times—the pink slips of paper specifically say that Chanyeol “can’t” see him yet.

Secondly, the pale blue notes are super…random. The first one was about television facts, the second about…last year? The third was a cryptic story about butterflies and something else that Chanyeol decided to black out—making the entire story unintelligible. Baekhyun gave up by the fourth. Regardless, all four of them made no sense and had parts scribbled out, as if Chanyeol was in the mood to troll when he wrote them.

Last but not least, the white notes are painfully flirty. Baekhyun has turned all of them around to face the counter, lest he reads them and randomly blushes in front of his customers throughout the day. It feels weird to read such lighthearted words when Chanyeol hasn’t had that attitude since before they kissed.

Baekhyun realizes with a start that this is the first time he’s considered their kiss to be…a kiss. It’s always been a “what happened that night” or a “last time we spoke” but never a “you told me you loved me through your lips and I never wanted to let go of you.”

He stands up quickly and tears the white notes off of the edge of the counter, slapping them face down onto the shelf under the counter. It’s too late and Baekhyun’s face is pinker than the hot pink pieces of paper, but he brushes his hands with a job well done and makes his way out of the cafe.

Chanyeol must have intended something with the strange array of notes, and Baekhyun is sure he’ll figure it out soon enough.

It takes him two more days, but on January 23rd, everything clicks.

Baekhyun spends most of the twenty-second staring down at the notes and brushing off his customers’ concerns, but the most he figures out is that there are small differences in the way Chanyeol writes his t’s between the different colors: in the pink notes, they’re comprised of two simple and straight lines, but the rest of them progressively become more loopy.

Before closing the cafe, Baekhyun organizes the colors in order from most to least straight and ends up with the resulting order: pink, white, green, red, yellow, blue. It doesn’t make sense but he leaves them up—even the white ones, their frankly embarrassing words displayed in the open—to ponder over later.

When he looks over them again on the twenty-third, an absurd conclusion pops into his head—so absurdly absurd that he brushes it off right away, because what?! It doesn’t make sense, really doesn’t, but Baekhyun has time and maybe he’s starting to go insane because he’s actually considering that maybe, maybe...

Chanyeol is not the only one writing these notes.

Or, more accurately, his Chanyeol isn’t the only one writing these notes. What if the Chanyeol who accidentally tried to take him on a date, or even another Chanyeol even older or younger or somewhere in between also wrote some notes?

Not just the t’s, all of Chanyeol’s handwriting changes slightly between the different notes, and that’s not something that happens over a couple days.

Maybe it’s just the pink notes that are from Baekhyun’s Chanyeol—but either way, Baekhyun finds himself smiling and giggling like a little girl at every single note from every single Chanyeol, and to be honest he’s had enough.

He gets up and flips the sign to closed—less than an hour after opening the cafe—before ripping the chain out of his pocket and glaring at it as if Chanyeol is going to magically appear.

“I’m ready now, Chanyeol! You hear me?!” Baekhyun turns away from the chain, gripping it tightly as he directs his furious gaze to the window. “Wherever you are, just show up already!”

Nothing happens.

Baekhyun sighs, wondering when the day will come that Chanyeol manages to hear him from across time and space, and makes his way home.

The blazing sun beats onto his back as he sets one foot in front of another on the empty streets, half-heartedly kicking loose gravel out of his way. In his pocket, the silver chain grows painfully hot, but he continues to hold onto it with a tight grip, afraid that letting go means letting go.

Baekhyun curls up on the couch and watches cheesy romcoms until he falls asleep. When he wakes up, it’s dark outside and the harsh light of the television is blinding in contrast. Baekhyun’s tempted to close his eyes and return to his blissful dreams (he may or may not have been acting out one of the romcom plots with Chanyeol, but that’s not the point), but his stomach growls and he’s forced to get up.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s nearly falling asleep into his plate. The second time Baekhyun blinks and his eyes stay closed with food still in his mouth, he gives up and makes himself a cup of coffee. He’s developed a tolerance, anyways, so he isn’t worried about it making him stay up.

Not like Chanyeol.

The memory brings a smile to Baekhyun’s face as he’s watching the coffee brew. It’s been a while since he was able to care for a sleepy Chanyeol, or to care for Chanyeol at all.

In some ways he’s given up on trying to understand what’s going on with the future, but maybe that’s the point. All Baekhyun wants now is to be able to see Chanyeol again, to be there for him when he’s lonely—like Chanyeol has been for him over the past few days and the weeks before that.

While he’s staring at the coffee a flicker of movement in the window catches his attention. Baekhyun waits for the drink to finish pouring, then picks it up and walks to look out the glass.

In front of him, perched atop a flower on his windowsill, is a small butterfly. It’s tiny, smaller than the others he’s seen before, but its wings are glowing a bright blue, almost blinding in their vibrancy.

At first, Baekhyun assumed the glow was reflected from the light of the moon, but as the butterfly flutters its wings and shifts slightly, he realizes that the butterfly itself is its own light source. The petals under it are softly illuminated, the comfortable glow reminiscent of a firefly.

A knock at Baekhyun’s door startles him, and he’s hit with a sudden sense of deja vu. He sets his coffee down by the window, throwing one last glance at the glimmering butterfly—it takes off as he watches, the flower petals bouncing under it as it flutters its wings and disappears quickly into the night—before rushing to check his clock.

Unsurprisingly, it’s midnight.

Baekhyun runs to the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He rips it open, ready to look at Chanyeol for the first time in—

“Chan…yeol?” Baekhyun’s voice leaves him.

In front of him is—after a moment’s observation—Chanyeol, all right. But not his Chanyeol. Baekhyun really shouldn’t be surprised but it stings to know that the Chanyeol he wants most isn’t the one who visits him, even at the moment he feels most ready.

The Chanyeol in front of him is frankly quite old. His hair is gray, white in some places, and he’s hunched over to the point where Baekhyun can look straight into his eyes without craning his neck upwards. Old—Oldest?—Chanyeol’s face is wrinkled too, smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes and a soft smile to match etched over his lips.

Baekhyun tries not to let his overwhelming disappointment show, but even as a soft smile inexplicably grows on his face, Old Chanyeol seems to understand.

His lips turn up a little more, and he gestures to Baekhyun’s hand on the door. “May I enter?”

He pulls the door open further, stepping back and letting Old Chanyeol hobble in. He’s using a cane, and the sight of Chanyeol—and he is Chanyeol, distinctly—bending over and looking like a grandpa is rather humorous. Baekhyun suppresses a giggle while following Old Chanyeol as he heads straight to the couch to make himself home, but is soon struck by a thought—

Is Chanyeol a grandpa? The Chanyeol in front of him is clearly so old, but if he’s still here, then surely Baekhyun is still part of his life so many decades in the future.

Maybe he’s even the one Chanyeol…

“Take a seat?” Baekhyun is shaken from his thoughts when Old Chanyeol calls out to him, twisting around to look over the back of the couch. “I won’t be here for long.”

Baekhyun obliges, settling himself in the armchair across from him. Old Chanyeol sighs, leaning back into the couch.

He pats the cushion next to him, fondly brushing off imaginary dust. “It’s been a while since I sat on such a comfortable couch.”

“I knew it was comfortable!” Baekhyun grins, leaning forward. “You lied when you said it wasn’t, right?”

Old Chanyeol laughs quietly. “No, to be honest, it is quite hard on my spine. It’s more…” He trails off, looking directly at Baekhyun. “The memories, I suppose.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen. “Memories…plural?”

“That’s a story for you to find out on your own. For now”—Old Chanyeol reaches into his pocket, groaning quietly as he turns to look into it—“you have another task to deal with.”

“A task?” Baekhyun raises his eyebrows and stands up, trying to see what Chanyeol’s holding.

Old Chanyeol smiles, hiding whatever it is he pulled out in his cupped fists. “I think you already know what you need to do.”

A thousand questions are racing through Baekhyun’s head, but he suspects this Chanyeol has said all he’s going to say. Just like his own, Old Chanyeol won’t answer questions clearly—by now, Baekhyun has learned to go with the flow and make do.

He leans over the table to look closer at the object clasped in Old Chanyeol’s hands. “What is it?”

Chanyeol opens his fists slowly, uncupping his hands and letting Baekhyun see the small pocket watch in his palms.

It’s a soft, metallic silver, tinted by the reflection of Chanyeol’s wrinkled skin, identical to Chanyeol’s own watch in every way, except—there’s no chain.

Baekhyun finds his hand drifting unconsciously down to his pocket, flinching slightly when his fingers brush against the ever-present cold metal. Chanyeol sets the watch down on the table and they both watch as it begins to frost over.

Ice creeps over the case slowly, starting from the outside and making its way inward. Baekhyun crouches by the table, clutching onto the chain and watching as small shapes begin popping in and out of existence over the frost.

This can’t be Chanyeol’s watch, because—

Instead of snowflakes, tiny white butterflies flutter across the surface of the watch, flickering over and in and out of silvery ice. Baekhyun pulls the chain out of his pocket, reaching for the watch with his other hand.

When his fingers brush over the surface, the frosty exterior melts away immediately. The case doesn’t even feel cold, adapting to the temperature of his skin instantly. Baekhyun glances up at Chanyeol—he’s leaning back into the couch now, eyes fixed on Baekhyun with a soft gaze eerily reminiscent of that first night in the cafe, weeks ago for Baekhyun and decades for Chanyeol—before opening the clasp of the chain and clipping it to the watch.

He takes the watch fully into his hand, feeling its slow, nearly indiscernible ticking speed up to line up perfectly with his pulse. Baekhyun closes his eyes and breathes it in, waiting as the watch becomes indistinguishable from his own body. When he exhales, he can almost feel a new presence by his side, walking in time with every part of Baekhyun’s whole being—his heartbeat, his breathing, the racing of his thoughts all lining up to the distant rhythm of footsteps growing closer.

Baekhyun is inexplicably reminded of every single time Chanyeol has walked with him, his measured footsteps dancing across tile or pavement but always in tune with Baekhyun’s own pace.

When he barely feels the presence of the watch anymore, caught up in the dream of Chanyeol by his side, Baekhyun opens his eyes.

He feels something hot and wet trickle down his cheek but ignores it because Chanyeol is gone. A tight emotion grips his chest, and a second tear follows the first.

Baekhyun hears a quiet ‘plink’ and looks down—his tear dripped off his chin and landed on the watch case, freezing solid despite the heat of the metal. A tiny butterfly flares into existence at that spot, its wings rippling over the ice before disappearing again.

He brushes his thumb over the icy tear, wiping it off the soft metal. Chanyeol isn’t here anymore for him to ask questions, so Baekhyun stops thinking and simply presses down on the crown, the case popping open.

Inside, this watch is indistinguishable from Chanyeol’s—the bright white face and clean black hands are a comfortable reminder of the glow decorating Chanyeol’s face every time he pulled out his watch with a promise of tomorrow.

Baekhyun pulls out the crown as Chanyeol did to adjust the date and for a moment, he is lost in the dizzying light and finds himself simply tracing his fingers over the numbers creating a distinct border around the face of the watch. He’s unsure of where—when exactly to go to, what Chanyeol he needs to visit, what even to say.

But without his realizing, Baekhyun’s fingers start turning the crown of their own volition. He rotates it clockwise to 2, then counterclockwise to 4, back around to 4, then 2. It takes him a moment to remember the significance of this date, but when he does—

Oh. Chanyeol hasn’t met him yet. This is going to be their first meeting, isn’t it? There are so many things he has to say to make sure things go right. How will he find Chanyeol? Doesn’t he need a location? What is he supposed to tell Chanyeol—what is he supposed to keep secret? It’s too much to keep track of, when all he really wants is…well, Chanyeol.

Baekhyun stops thinking and presses on the crown.

He thinks he opens his eyes along the way, but the oppressive darkness around him is overwhelming enough that Baekhyun wonders if it’s a solid presence forcing his eyelids to remain shut. Despite his pitch black surroundings, Baekhyun can feel the rush of movement around him, wind howling in his ears and twisting his body left and right.

The wind turns into water, and Baekhyun feels like he’s drowning in the swirling vortex. He’s pushed here and pulled there, an untouchable fury dragging him under the invisible surface. Baekhyun tries to scream but no sound comes out, and he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into the endless abyss.

Baekhyun scrambles for a foothold, arms flailing as he grasps for something, anything to hold onto. In the depths of his struggle, he’s sure for a moment that he’s going to be dragged down into nothingness, but then—

An image pops into his mind, of a young Chanyeol with wide, curious eyes knocking on his door. His plain white shirt, wrinkled as he tore through his pockets to find the chain—the chain, still wrapped around the watch clutched tightly in Baekhyun’s fist. He feels it now, and more—Baekhyun feels his arms, his legs, the stillness of the air around him, the steady ground beneath his feet.

He opens his eyes for real now, or maybe he closes them for the first time, and he looks at Chanyeol’s face. His bright eyes, his faint smile, the endless wonder pouring out of him as he looks back at Baekhyun so, so fondly.

Baekhyun blinks and the vision changes slightly—he staggers, finding himself bound by gravity to a solid white floor, watch still held tightly in his fist. When he looks down, he can see his own arms and legs and move them as he pleases. Is he here? Did he make it? He looks up again and—

There he is: Chanyeol, young and confused but not afraid, looking into Baekhyun’s eyes. He isn’t as fond as he was every other time Baekhyun has seen him—and he realizes now, it was every other time—but Chanyeol’s stance is open, waiting. Baekhyun smiles, taking a moment to keep looking.

Chanyeol is pale, far paler than he was when he first visited Baekhyun. His black hair is a shocking contrast to the paper white skin of his face and neck, though it brings out the depth of his eyes.

As time passes he grows more impatient, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. Baekhyun is suddenly struck by the feeling of looking into a mirror, recognizing the frustration that has permeated his life from the moment Chanyeol walked into his cafe—the infuriating feeling of not knowing—and in that moment he decides, why not have a little fun? Get some well-deserved vengeance.

It doesn’t register in Baekhyun’s mind that maybe the past few weeks of clueless torment were maybe vengeance in their own right in response to…this. But it’s an endless loop, really, and Baekhyun isn’t one to let go of the sweet, sweet taste of revenge.

Chanyeol is still waiting, and Baekhyun realizes that this is his chance to say the first words Chanyeol will ever hear from him, something as simple as a “Hi”—as Chanyeol did the first time—or perhaps a little more deep, maybe a quote? What kind of quote? A cute one about soulmates, maybe, or something about how incredibly long he’s been waiting (although Chanyeol’s been waiting for far longer, Baekhyun is definitively the drama queen between the two of them)—

“I love you,” Baekhyun blurts out.

Chanyeol blinks, then shakes his head slightly and steps back, confusion growing in his furrowed eyebrows and parted lips. “Wha—”

“Nooo, oh my—I’m so stupid!” Baekhyun sobs, crouching on the floor. “I can’t believe I just—ughh, leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Chanyeol exclaims, fists balling up. His legs shake slightly until he resignedly crouches to the floor in front of Baekhyun. “Why did you just—who are you?”

Baekhyun waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, I’ve embarrassed myself enough anyways. It’s true, though.” He sighs dramatically, leaning back and pressing his palm against the painfully clean floor. “I’m madly in love with you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol narrows his eyes. “How do you—actually, never mind. You’re a time traveler, right?”

“What?! No.” Baekhyun snorts, turning away. “Why would you—oh, right.” He looks at the watch held in his hand, feeling his gaze soften. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“And why—” Chanyeol begins, looking closely at Baekhyun’s eyes.

“Nuh uh, no answers for you,” Baekhyun mutters, averting his gaze to stop the heat crawling up his neck from growing into a full-blown blush (he fails miserably, and it’s a sight Chanyeol will never forget.) “I’ve got business to do here and I’ll see it done.”

Chanyeol cracks a grin, relaxing into the floor. He continues to maintain uncomfortably direct eye contact with Baekhyun. “Business involves confessing your undying love to people who’ve never met you before? I’m starting to get excited about being a time traveler now.”

Baekhyun sputters. “You—weren’t you supposed to be all shy and clumsy?! I miss my Chanyeol,” he huffs, shifting his weight forward and crossing his arms. “Anyways, do you happen to have a pen and paper?”

It’s Chanyeol’s turn to look dumbfounded. “Pen and—do you know what year it is?!” He looks at Baekhyun’s watch again, suspicion forming in his eyes. “You didn’t steal that, did you?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe this. Just get me something to write on that you will actually keep, and you can look at my watch while I’m writing, ‘kay?”

Chanyeol raises his eyebrows, leaning forward until he’s close enough to peer at the watch tucked between Baekhyun’s crossed arms—also, coincidentally, close enough for Baekhyun to lose himself in the depths of intrigue filling his eyes.

He shrugs, leaning back again and ruffling through his pockets. “Deal.”

Baekhyun sighs, willing himself to cool down a little. He wishes more than ever that the watch would magically cool to its icy state just so he could use it to calm himself down. What happened to the sweet, innocent Chanyeol from New Year’s, anyways?! Baekhyun supposes that Chanyeol is in the future, but still.

This Chanyeol is much more reminiscent of his own.

He looks around the room as Chanyeol keeps patting down his pockets—a behavior much more similar to that of the young Chanyeol from before. The room around them is a soft white and Baekhyun can’t tell where the floor ends and the wall begins; it seems to extend endlessly in all directions except one. Directly behind Chanyeol, the floor clearly bends upwards into a wall, and on top of it a clock is displayed.

There are no numbers or ticks around the border, only a single black hand moving endlessly in circles. It moves without pause, flowing smoothly like a river in some unguided rhythm of time. Without seconds or minutes or hours or days, the clock hand treks endlessly through a spiral with no beginning that will never be complete.

Baekhyun finds himself captivated, eyes following the movement of the hand from the center to the tip as it swirls slowly, quickly, at an indeterminable pace. After a moment or many moments, he’s pulled out of the trance by Chanyeol snapping his fingers in front of him.

He blinks once, focusing back on Chanyeol’s face. Baekhyun catches a split second of soft wonder or concern—and for a stranger, too, he imagines—before Chanyeol straightens his expression and smirks, tossing a tiny holographic card and stylus at him.

Baekhyun catches it, frowning. It’s a transparent screen and he can see his hand through it—he really wasn’t expecting to be able to actually hold it, but it isn’t a projection. Instead, the small blue card (tablet? an exceptionally small tablet, then) is cool and smooth to the touch, not unlike a light metal plate. Not that Baekhyun often finds himself holding light metal plates, but whatever.

“What is this?” He looks up at Chanyeol, letting his other hand pick up the stylus—and this is just a simple stylus, no different from the ones Baekhyun has seen back at home.

Chanyeol shrugs. “You can write on it.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, muttering, “Why don’t you ever answer my questions properly…” but begins to write on the card regardless.

“Well, you very literally said ‘No answers for you’ a minute ago, so…” Chanyeol trails off, looking smug. “It’s only fair that my future self refuses to communicate with you either. Now, hand over the watch please?”

“Oh, right.” Baekhyun sighs, unwrapping the chain from his wrist and tossing his watch at Chanyeol. “You’re actually going to make my eyes roll out of my head.”

Chanyeol stays silent and Baekhyun looks up to see him staring at him wide-eyed, hands clutching at the watch. It’s a look almost as familiar as his Chanyeol’s loving—and yes, all this time it’s been loving—gaze, and Baekhyun represses a chuckle as he turns his focus back to the writing.

“You would actually give me your watch just like that?”

Baekhyun glances at Chanyeol out of the corner of his eye, head still bent over the dates he’s writing. “Of course I would. Didn’t I tell you I love you?”

Chanyeol doesn’t respond and he looks up, tossing the card back. It has two dates written on it now (in Baekhyun’s best handwriting, carefully underlined) and Chanyeol picks it up with one hand, the other drifting softly over the butterflies.

He frowns at the dates. “The second one is today, why don’t I just—”

“Because I don’t want you to visit today,” Baekhyun says with a smile, a deep excitement bubbling up at the thought that now Chanyeol knows, he knows—he’s always known that today is the day.

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow but shrugs, looking back at the first date. “You want me to visit you on New Year’s Eve?”

“Be there by midnight, okay?” Baekhyun doesn’t elaborate, letting the thrill of finally, finally knowing everything wash over him. Because this has always been in Chanyeol’s past and it was always some unknown date in Baekhyun’s future but now it’s done, it’s done for good.

The words he’s speaking now were spoken already two years ago, and Baekhyun feels a calm warmth spread throughout him at the thought that he’s finally here, speaking these words.

A now-distant memory strikes him suddenly, and Baekhyun rushes to pat down his own pockets for loose change. He pulls out three dollars—are they the same?—and slides them across the floor to Chanyeol, pouting. “You owe me these, asshole.”

Chanyeol barely blinks at the sight of what must be ancient money to him. Baekhyun wonders if his brain has been fried—like his own was when Chanyeol visited him.

It’s an endless loop, really.

Baekhyun watches Chanyeol fold the bills carefully and tuck them in his pocket with the card. He isn’t worried that he’ll lose them. But when Chanyeol holds the watch out to Baekhyun, gently, in cupped hands, he feels the softest look grow over his face.

His eyes sting faintly, and Baekhyun wonders if this is what Chanyeol sees when he looks back at him.

He takes the offered watch but reaches out to grab one of Chanyeol’s hands before he pulls back, holding his fingers open with a light grip. With his other hand, Baekhyun unclips the chain from his watch, letting it fall into Chanyeol’s palm.

“You owe that to me too, you thief.” Baekhyun curls Chanyeol’s fingers back over the chain, letting him clutch onto it in the same way that Baekhyun held it against his palm when he missed Chanyeol. “Just look for my face, okay?”

With that, he stands, stretching once before pressing in the crown of the watch—a familiar movement now. Chanyeol’s eyes widen as he remains kneeling, arm outstretched.

“But what’s your name? Where are you—?”

Baekhyun shakes his head once, silencing Chanyeol’s questions. He waits for the other to stand on shaky knees—the uncertainty he expected at the beginning of this visit finally showing—before stretching an arm out and brushing a bit of hair out of Chanyeol’s eyes.

“You’ll make it.”

Chanyeol frowns. “How do you know I will?”

Baekhyun giggles, turning back to his watch. “Because you love me, Chanyeol.”

He presses on the crown and enters the darkness, content.

Coming back is easier than leaving, and it’s still dark when Baekhyun returns. He sets the watch on his nightstand—probably another felony in Chanyeol’s world—and collapses in his bed, falling into a dreamless sleep instantly.

Baekhyun wakes up brimming with excitement, finally returning to his old habit of making extra lunch for Chanyeol. He’s out of his house in a rush, jogging to the cafe. Of course, he wouldn’t be surprised if Chanyeol doesn’t show up until; although Baekhyun remains the uncrowned drama queen, Chanyeol is still unnecessarily dramatic, but still—

He’s excited, okay?

The watch tucked into his pocket, chainless—and Baekhyun does wonder how he’ll get it back, but it’s just a simple curiosity—is a reminder that in the end, it all comes together.

Chanyeol will be here today, he will be here a year from now, he will grow old with Baekhyun, because he already did.

Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being an asshole about it. Baekhyun waits hours in the cafe, tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter as he makes small talk with his customers. The notes taped to the edge catch his attention often, and he lets himself drift with the fluttering colors when boredom overtakes the stillness.

Without Chanyeol here, it really is still. It hasn’t rained a single day since he left, and Baekhyun is anticipating sweet, cool water pitter-pattering against his bedroom window tonight when Chanyeol stays. Because he will stay, of course he will.

Regardless, he isn’t showing up now, and Baekhyun suspects he’s going to wait until midnight yet again, like he did and like he will. And midnight is a long time away, so of course—

Baekhyun’s going to make Chanyeol wait too, there’s no doubt about it.

So he waits, closes the cafe an hour later than usual but continues to wait. He picks up the same old rag and drags it back and forth over the counter, hiding his smile from the empty cafe by covering it with his hand.

Eventually, the excitement overtakes Baekhyun, and he forces himself to nap in Chanyeol’s booth (wrapped in Chanyeol’s blanket, the familiar warmth calming him down—though he would never admit that) until he jolts awake sometime after eleven at night.

He walks home in the dark but it isn’t much of a problem, the lonely street mapped by only two pairs of feet.

When Baekhyun gets home, his watch (just a regular old watch, strapped to his wrist) reads only a few minutes before midnight; instead of entering his house, he crouches behind a bush, waiting.

Just a second or two before midnight, Baekhyun looks down at his watch again.

When he looks back up, he sees Chanyeol appear.

In all the many times that Baekhyun has seen Chanyeol, he’s never seen him actually time travel. But this time, he watches as Chanyeol simply appears where he didn’t exist before. It’s simple, like flicking a light switch on.

Chanyeol’s holding a rather limp bouquet, attempting to fluff the petals upward to no avail. He runs his fingers through his hair once, snapping his pocket watch closed and holding it up to look at his reflection. Baekhyun represses a laugh at the sight, letting a fond smile grow over his face.

He sneaks out of his position behind the bush when Chanyeol steps up to the door, walking behind him. Chanyeol raises a hand to press the doorbell, and when he does—

“Boo!”

Chanyeol yelps, ducking and turning around in the same move while his arm automatically throws the flowers at Baekhyun. They hit him square in the face before he doubles over with laughter, grasping onto the stems.

Baekhyun looks closely at the flowers—as much as he can in the dim light of night—and finds his vision enveloped by scraggly little sunflower petals.

An absurd thought flickers through his head, that the flowers should be pointing to the man in front of him, because Chanyeol is here, he’s here, and—

He’s looking at Baekhyun and maybe he’s shocked or maybe he’s happy (it’s a mix of both, really) but all of a sudden he’s a lot closer than he was before and Baekhyun’s looking up at him, and the sunflowers really are pointing at him.

And then the sunflowers are somewhere behind Chanyeol’s neck, still clutched tightly in Baekhyun’s hand.

Chanyeol melts into Baekhyun’s grip and he seems so utterly exhausted but his lips are still so, so soft and his hands on Baekhyun’s waist are gentle beyond belief.

He’s still holding his pocket watch and it bounces against Baekhyun’s hip once before settling; Baekhyun smiles into Chanyeol’s lips at the feeling, his own watch just a few inches away.

After a few moments or hours or lifetimes, they separate and Baekhyun takes a deep breath. He hears Chanyeol breathing with him, lowers one of his hands to press against Chanyeol’s heart.

Baekhyun knows it’s impossible or incredibly unlikely, but he feels his own heartbeat line up with Chanyeol’s—he feels a hand come up to his own chest, drifting to the left side.

Chanyeol’s fingertips slide across his chest until they reach the spot where the tip of his heart pounds against his ribs, pressing softly until, even through his shirt, Baekhyun can’t distinguish himself from Chanyeol.

It isn’t so different from holding the watch, really.

Baekhyun sighs, mirroring Chanyeol’s movement, and the two of them stand there for another eternity that lasts just one heartbeat.

Then Chanyeol’s stomach grumbles, and Baekhyun feels his own grumble in response.

He laughs out loud, the sound almost jarring, and speaks the first words of the night.

“We’re really connected, aren’t we?”

Chanyeol laughs too, a little more quietly, before tucking his face into Baekhyun’s neck. It’s ticklish, and he involuntarily pushes against Chanyeol’s head with his own.

“Mhm. Did you make dinner?”

Baekhyun hums, slowly pushing Chanyeol backwards one step at a time until he can reach the door. “I haven’t even unlocked the door yet.”

Chanyeol doesn’t move out of the way, letting Baekhyun struggle with fishing his keys out and wrapping his arm around Chanyeol to fit the right one into the lock. “But did you make it in the morning? I hope you planned something special for me.”

“You hope I planned something special?” Baekhyun pauses, peering over Chanyeol’s shoulder to adjust the key to the right orientation. “You’re the one who had two whole years to prepare, you know.”

Chanyeol finally lets go when a minute passes without Baekhyun successfully unlocking the door, stepping aside but immediately engulfing Baekhyun in a smothering back hug.

“Yeah, I guess, but I’m the one who always prepares everything, you know.”

He sounds smug, but Baekhyun grins at the implications of Chanyeol’s statement.

“Oh, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun flips on the light and kicks off his shoes, making his way straight to the kitchen this time because Chanyeol is finally hungry for once. “You have no idea how many things you’ve prepared.”

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything but he can hear the cogs turning slowly—very slowly, and rather loudly if Baekhyun’s being honest—in his head.

Baekhyun keeps his back to Chanyeol, suppressing a smile as he runs through dinner ideas. “So, you want to talk while we’re cooking or while we’re eating?”

Chanyeol’s silent for a moment and Baekhyun’s struck with the uncontrollable urge to turn around and make sure he’s still here, make sure he hasn’t time traveled away forever.

He tries not to, reassures himself that it isn’t going to happen again, but Baekhyun is only human and he turns.

Chanyeol is right there still, elbows resting on the counter. He’s looking into Baekhyun’s eyes and he’s telling him wordlessly that he knows, maybe even that he’s sorry—but that’s a conversation for later. For now, Chanyeol doesn’t mention it.

He simply raises an eyebrow. “While we’re cooking?”

Baekhyun grins, keeping Chanyeol within his vision. “Who else would I be cooking with, anyways?”

Chanyeol sighs dramatically, collapsing against the counter. “I miss the good old days when you made me lunch without saying anything.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “How about you pick what we eat as compensation?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to do that.” Chanyeol pouts. “Plus, I want the authentic twenty-first century experience, you can’t have me picking the food for that.”

“Of course you don’t,” Baekhyun grumbles. “Thinking too hard would just be more work for you, you lazy—”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Chanyeol pushes off of the counter and walks around it to Baekhyun, stretching. “I know you already have dinner planned, don’t you?”

Baekhyun sighs, slipping past Chanyeol to pull open a cabinet. “And I know you already know what I have planned, so get chopping. Idiot.”

He doesn’t turn around but Chanyeol’s grin is audible, and Baekhyun finds the corners of his lips turning upwards in response.

They eat at the table this time. Baekhyun is perched on the edge of the table, Chanyeol collapsed into the rickety old chair. He rocks back and forth on it as he eats, the quiet thunks of wood against wood filling the room.

Baekhyun smiles in the near silence as they eat in the dim light, reminiscing over the days they’ve spent quietly eating together. He murmurs, “So…did you keep that little card with you?”

Chanyeol frowns, looking up. “Card? What card?”

He sets down his fork, waving his hand in the air. “You know, the…card thing, the one I wrote the dates on.”

“Oh!” Chanyeol laughs, putting his own plate down. “That was just a note. Like a sticky note, I suppose.”

Baekhyun pouts, leaning back. “So you didn’t keep it?”

“No, I did.” Chanyeol reaches into his pocket, pulling out the same blue card and flipping it around his fingers. Baekhyun looks closer and sees his own handwriting glowing on the screen.

A warm feeling fills him at the sight, and when he looks up, he sees it reflected in Chanyeol’s eyes.

“Speaking of sticky notes, then,” Baekhyun starts. “Where did you get all those notes from? You don’t use paper in the future, right?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “The craft store down the street from your work has quite the collection. I hope you enjoyed the color I picked?”

Baekhyun snorts, picking up Chanyeol’s discarded plate and hopping off the table. “I loved all of them.”

He doesn’t wait for the words to register in Chanyeol’s mind, making his way to the kitchen to offload their dishes.

To his credit, Chanyeol doesn’t comment on it—Baekhyun is certain that he realized what it means, that this one comment is what will cause him to keep sending those notes, that to Chanyeol, questioning Baekhyun’s statement is unnecessary when it revealed all it needed to.

After washing the dishes, Baekhyun leads Chanyeol to the couch; he tosses the remote to him, and Chanyeol catches it with ease. He brushes his fingertips over all the buttons, tucking his legs onto the couch. “Romcom time?”

Baekhyun laughs, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Pick your poison.”

He cycles through the options before throwing on a terribly-rated one—Baekhyun hides a grin when he realizes Chanyeol thinks one star means it’s the best—and they settle into the couch.

They watch the movie in silence for just a few minutes before Baekhyun yawns for the first time, snuggling into his pillow and trying to hide his boredom.

Chanyeol looks over at him from where his eyes were previously boring into the screen, raising his eyebrows. “Tired already? I thought this would be a good movie.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, tossing the pillow aside. Chanyeol starts to say something again, but is interrupted by Baekhyun stretching an arm out to his side to grab Chanyeol’s, yanking him closer.

He doesn’t say anything but pulls Chanyeol until he’s half on top of him, turning all of his attention away from the movie. It’s only fair, after all—Baekhyun is worth far more than a trashy one-star romcom.

Chanyeol laughs a little and braces his arm against the cushion, pretending to turn his attention back to that stupid movie before Baekhyun wordlessly wraps his arm around Chanyeol’s neck and pulls.

The hold Chanyeol has on the couch collapses and his weight topples fully onto Baekhyun. (It maybe knocks the wind out of him just a little.) Chanyeol finally gives in, adjusting into a more comfortable position for the both of them, his arm wrapping over Baekhyun’s torso as he slides in between him and the back of the couch.

Baekhyun basks in the warm feeling of Chanyeol’s breath against his neck, goosebumps forming. It’s a familiar position even if they’ve only ever been like this once before, and Baekhyun finds his eyes falling closed.

He doesn’t know if Chanyeol is watching the movie, but his soft breaths are starting to steady out and Baekhyun wonders if they’re both going to fall asleep like this.

Countless thoughts swirl through Baekhyun’s head as he considers the past day. To be honest, he wasn’t expecting to fall asleep in Chanyeol’s arms without so much as a conversation about what this is, what they are.

“What are we?” Baekhyun whispers, the words drowned out by raucous laughter playing from the television.

Chanyeol stirs nonetheless, lifting his head slightly so his breath falls onto Baekhyun’s ear instead. “What did you say?” A tone of amusement creeps into his voice as he continues. “Come closer, I can’t hear you.”

Baekhyun is hit by intense deja vu as he cranes his neck to get a glimpse at Chanyeol’s face. With the lights on, his face is lit more gently than last time, when the harsh white television struck a sharp contrast against the dim lamp behind him. This time, Chanyeol’s skin glows almost as warmly as it does under the sun, a rush of gold pouring out of him. His eyes are illuminated as they look down at Baekhyun and Baekhyun looks back.

Chanyeol loosens his hold and Baekhyun swivels in place again, again just like last time, until he’s properly facing Chanyeol. He’s still looking down at Baekhyun and his arms tighten once more when Baekhyun’s done adjusting.

Baekhyun sees something different this time when he looks at Chanyeol, something that stops him from leaning closer. It’s a quiet sight, Chanyeol looking back at him silently with an open expression. He looks…unguarded, maybe a little vulnerable, but also a tiny bit impatient. Baekhyun stays quiet, and soon enough Chanyeol begins to speak.

“Sorry I was late,” Chanyeol says quietly. It’s barely louder than a whisper, but Baekhyun feels the words as loudly as he hears them.

He laughs under his breath, raising one hand to rest against Chanyeol’s cheek. “You have a bit of a propensity for drama.”

Chanyeol’s mouth twists wryly. “Not as much as you…”

“Oh, whatever.” Baekhyun pats his cheek lightly, miming a slap. “You’re just as bad as me.” He doesn’t really believe that, but it’s not like Chanyeol can just be right and get away with it.

He rolls his eyes before continuing. “Anyways…you know I can’t—I’m not allowed to fall in love, right?”

It stings to hear again but Baekhyun nods. He tries his best not to tense up or pull away, because the weight of the pocket watch pressed uncomfortably into his thigh is screaming at him that there has to be a way.

Chanyeol keeps going. “...much less with someone who isn’t even from my time.”

Baekhyun holds his breath.

“Well, I was able to get back in touch with some of my old…friends.” Chanyeol sighs, closing his eyes. “We were all transferred to different departments and banned from contacting each other, but the regulation has been a little more lax lately, and—well, those sticky notes really came to be of use.”

Chanyeol opens his eyes again, his gaze flicking to the movie playing behind Baekhyun’s head. “They pulled some strings, Baekhyun, and…” He leans closer, bending his neck to let Baekhyun see his face even more clearly. “They’ll be able to wipe my record every once in a while.”

Baekhyun frowns, brushing his thumb over Chanyeol’s cheekbone. “What does that mean?”

“Officially, I won’t be here, now.” Chanyeol smiles.

“Where—When will you be?”

Chanyeol hums, pulling Baekhyun the tiniest bit closer. “Somewhere along the lines of nowhere, never.”

Baekhyun gasps, leaning into the hug. “So that means—”

“Only as often as they can manage it, so not every day.” Chanyeol ducks down further, pressing his head under Baekhyun’s chin. “But it’ll be safer, more consistent.”

Baekhyun’s hand slips off of Chanyeol’s cheek and he looks up, blinking at the display of lights above him. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling mix with the white glow coming from the television screen. He asks again, “What are we?”

Chanyeol sighs into Baekhyun’s neck—a ticklish feeling spreads over his skin—before raising his head and looking directly at his eyes again. “I don’t know, Baekhyun.”

He stays silent, shifting slightly to pull out his other arm from under the weight of his body before running his nearly-asleep fingers through Chanyeol’s hair.

“But I want to know,” Chanyeol continues. “I want to keep going, or to start over, until we know.”

Baekhyun smiles, holds back a smirk. “How does this Saturday sound, then?”

Chanyeol frowns, looking somewhat like a confused puppy. “Sound for what?”

“Our first date, of course!” Baekhyun’s hand moves to Chanyeol’s neck and he pulls him a little closer and a little closer until their noses are brushing. “Bring me wildflowers.”

Chanyeol makes a soft noise of surprise before smiling, eyelids fluttering. “Saturday sounds amazing.” He doesn’t say anything else for a few more moments, and Baekhyun basks in the feeling of his skin, fingers dusting over the soft hairs on Chanyeol’s nape, until—“Can you say it now?”

Baekhyun hums hesitantly, waiting for him to clarify what—oh. The smile on his face softens, and he reaches up to Chanyeol’s shoulder with his other hand, pulling him closer.

They fall into each other, and Baekhyun whispers against Chanyeol’s lips—

”I love you.”

Chanyeol smiles into the kiss until Baekhyun swallows his grin and demands that he says it too, because it really isn’t fair like this.

“I love you,” he says aloud, his normal speaking voice almost booming in comparison to their whispered conversations. Baekhyun feels a shiver crawl down his spine at the sound of those words.

They lay in relative silence after that, no longer kissing but not pulling away either. Baekhyun runs his fingers up and down the length of Chanyeol’s shoulder, feelling their breaths line up.

After a few moments, Chanyeol starts talking. “It isn’t permanent. I’m sorry, Baekhyun,” He closes his eyes. “You’ve waited a long time for answers, and I just can’t give all of them. But I’m trying, Baekhyun, I swear I am. I don’t know if it’s ever going to work, but—”

“Calm down, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun moves his hand to Chanyeol’s cheek, cupping it gently. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s going to work, and it’s going to work beautifully.”

Chanyeol opens his eyes again, and they’re a little shinier than when he closed them. “How do you know that? You don’t even know what I’m trying to do.”

Baekhyun laughs a little, hand pulling away from Chanyeol’s cheek to slip into his own pocket and draw the watch out. There’s no chain, but it gleams brightly and reflects the lights on the ceiling back onto the two of them. He lifts it next to their faces and watches Chanyeol’s attention shift.

“Chanyeol, there’s no way it doesn’t work out.”

It takes a few moments for Chanyeol to realize and he smiles, lifting one hand from Baekhyun’s back to push down the hand with the watch until it’s pressed against Baekhyun’s side. He leans in again until they’re barely a centimeter apart, closing his eyes. The corners of his lips turn up slightly.

Baekhyun waits for half a second but then he’s sick of waiting; he leans in and closes the final gap, breathes in soft lips and Chanyeol’s smile.

Chanyeol whispers into his lips, “Because it already did.”

Outside, a glowing blue butterfly flutters around the back of Baekhyun’s house, stopping here and there to perch atop a lone flower and sway in the quiet wind. It radiates an approachable light, as bright as the stars, and continues its silent journey.

A few minutes later, the butterfly lands on the right flower, one that bends left and right at the slightest touch of a breeze but refuses to break against the most tempestuous storm. Behind it, another butterfly settles on the same flower—ruby red, glowing with the same light.

They share a quiet moment under the stars.

Baekhyun waits impatiently in his cafe, painfully overdressed. He tries his best to brush off his customers’ questions about his two-piece suit with lame excuses, but he can only last so long when Chanyeol’s late.

He looks down at the small notes he has collected on the shelf below his counter. They keep showing up now, every few days—mostly blue and white, though other colors show up once in a while; Baekhyun hasn’t seen a pink note in a very, very long time—and Baekhyun makes sure to arrive early to fish them out of whatever nooks and crannies Chanyeol has stuffed them into.

It’s ingrained into his routine now. Once, a customer found one of the white and—well, after lecturing Chanyeol very harshly, Baekhyun now spends most of his morning scrutinizing every surface of the building.

Lunch comes and goes, and Baekhyun spends his free time responding to the newer notes. He scribbles his messages on the backs of the notes—Chanyeol likes to complain that he never leaves room for Chanyeol’s response to his own, but he always writes new notes even when Baekhyun does leave space. So Baekhyun, who has now given up on being environmentally conscious, scribbles paragraphs of his small handwriting onto the notes.

Blue notes receive quiet letters of love and questions that he knows won’t receive answers, while the latest white note receives an essay complaining about Chanyeol always being late.

It’s to be expected today, though. Baekhyun waits just an hour longer before familiar footsteps enter the cafe. He looks up to see Chanyeol flipping the sign on his window to closed before turning around to give Baekhyun a sheepish grin.

He’s wearing an immaculate black suit, the full set, but—it’s wrinkled around the elbows, and his hair is as messy as when he first wakes up, his eyes are bleary, the bouquet of wildflowers in his hands is limp and a little pathetic.

But most importantly, Chanyeol’s fingers are wrapped tightly around a small wooden box. The stems of the flowers are crushed tightly against the side of the box as Chanyeol bites his lip, trying to gauge Baekhyun’s reaction.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and walks out from behind the counter, holding his hand out. Chanyeol raises his eyebrows and presents the wildflowers to Baekhyun as best he can, holding out his heart just so—

He rips the bouquet out of Chanyeol’s hands, tossing it onto the counter to the side. “Idiot, I’ve been waiting a year to see what’s inside that box.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen and he brings the box up to his face, trying to hide the bright red blush creeping up his neck and over his cheeks and ears. “Oh my—you knew all this time?! I’m so stupid, no…”

Baekhyun chuckles and reaches for the box. “Just show me what’s inside and then we can go to the moon, okay? I swear I’ve just been curious.”

(He remembers gasping when Chanyeol first brought up their destination—the moon?! Won’t they need spacesuits?

Chanyeol had laughed hard, resting his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder. They’ll be fine with some regular suits, really…)

“I’ve embarrassed myself so much, Baekhyun, please give me a moment,” Chanyeol whines, leaning back to keep the box out of Baekhyun’s reach.

Baekhyun reluctantly acquiesces, crossing his arms and waiting. He takes the moment to drag his eyes up and down the length of Chanyeol’s body, admiring his…form.

Chanyeol finally brings the box down from his face, still breathless and pink—though Baekhyun barely notices, his attention following the box. Chanyeol holds it at his waist, slowly tipping the lid open.

Inside the box there is a gleaming silver chain, catching the light and flickering in an unreal state.