Archive of Our Own

Baekhyun was lying on the hotel bed, throwing a tennis ball against the wall opposite him. He kept replaying that day’s match in his head. All the mistakes he’d made, all the chances he didn’t take. Every time the crowd cheered at his errors, and every bead of sweat that stuck to his skin, weighing him down. His game was bad that day.

It was such a shitty fucking day.

He’d lost the semi-finals match. During the entire tournament, he was only focused on the finals, convinced that the matches before it would be a cakewalk. And it should have been—his draw was easy compared to the other one.

Then that fucking Italian had to beat him out—in three straight sets, not one more. It was embarrassing. The crowd must have loved it, because the Australian crowd always loved it when Baekhyun lost. It had something to do with a careless comment he made a few years back during his first Australian Open. Baekhyun couldn’t even remember what it was about.

And his congratulatory speech was a mess. His mind was blank, and he couldn't for the life of him remember what kind of bullshut he managed to come up with on the spot. He didn’t prepare a speech in the case in which he’d lost. That was simply unimaginable to him at that point. He was on a fucking roll. And the Australian Open was the only title he needed to become the youngest man to achieve a Career Grand Slam—to win all four majors titles. Now that record was impossible for him to claim.

The ball hit the wall at an awkward angle and Baekhyun missed catching it, letting it fall to the ground. How poetic, he thought. Huffing, he threw his head back onto the bed.

“Fucking bullshit,” he muttered, then sat up on his knees. His legs ached, the muscles strained and in need of rest—but in that moment, he could’ve cared less about whatever physical pain he was experiencing. It was even welcome, in a way, because it grounded him.

He looked outside. It was already night-time. The Melbourne skyline could be seen from his hotel window. Baekhyun managed to get a room with a rather nice view. Anyone else would’ve appreciated it. They would’ve stared out at the flickering lights of the big city, the cars racing through the streets, the dark outlines of buildings, and helplessly sighed at the beauty of it all.

But Baekhyun wasn’t anyone else. He hated it. He hated everything about that city. Twice before he’d lost the Australian Open finals, and now he fell off at the semis? As if he was some incompetent rookie. Fuck that tournament, and fuck that city. And fuck Italy.

His eyes started to sting and he could feel his throat closing up. A tremble ran through his body, shaking him violently. He grabbed one pillow and punched it down, the mattress denting as his fist collided with it.

“God fucking damn it!”

He might have yelled too loud. But he didn’t care. He needed that yell. His breathing was already becoming steadier. That was why he didn’t understand the reason his team kept telling him to dial it down. Letting his emotions out helped him. He shouldn’t have to keep them in just because they are negative. Everyone wanted to change him, wished he was different, someone else. They only liked him when they could shape him into their idea of a perfect representative tennis champion. The fans, his agent, his father…

Minho, his trainer, had tried reassuring him after the lost match. It wasn’t the first time Baekhyun had ever lost a match, but it was one of the more important ones. Minho recited all the cookie-cutter encouragement—that his time was only beginning, that he was only twenty-three and had an entire successful career in front of him. That this one fluke didn’t mean he was a failure.

But Baekhyun didn’t care about any of that. He didn’t care that he had four Grand Slam titles behind him already. He wanted this one, and he wanted it now.

In all his moping around, Baekhyun didn’t think to check the results of the second semi-finals match. After his mess of a press conference, he’d told Minho and Junmyeon, his agent, to leave him alone for the rest of the day. Maybe two. Maybe even forever. And not to let anyone else talk to him, either. No family members, no interviewers. No one.

Junmyeon was reluctant to agree, but Minho had learned how to deal with Baekhyun and his quirks well by that point. He let him vent his disappointment however he wished after a lost match. Baekhyun was a sore loser. It was a flaw he was aware of, but not one he was rushing to fix.

Baekhyun took his phone out and looked up the results. He scoffed when he saw who won. And of course it had to be Park Chanyeol. Was there any more salt left to rub into Baekhyun’s wound?

All of a sudden, his phone started to ring. Baekhyun almost dropped it out of surprise. He stared at the number. It was his father. Baekhyun let it ring. Only after a full minute did it stop.

The ignored call sent him to the recent calls list. Three missed calls from his father that day. He’d acquired a whole collection of those by that point. Three was less than average, too. Did his dear father stop caring about him?

Baekhyun continued to scroll through the list, trying to convince himself he wasn’t looking for anything specific. The majority of the calls were from his father and Junmyeon. Baekhyun didn’t have anyone’s number saved to his contacts, but he knew the important ones. Besides, other people rarely called.

He finally found the number. Not that Baekhyun had to know it by heart—which he didn’t—to recognize it. It was the only number with outgoing calls. That was how he knew it.

His thumb was hovering over it. He bit his lip, bracing himself for his decision. He wasn’t planning on talking to anyone, but…

“Oh, fuck it,” he whispered, and put the phone to his ear before he could change his mind. It rang once, twice…

“Dude, what the hell?” a familiar deep voice answered before Baekhyun even got the chance to speak, the pitch slightly altered through the speaker. “I thought we said we’d see each other in the finals?”

“Oh, fuck off, Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun groaned, already annoyed, as if he wasn’t the one who called. He took the pillow he’d punched before and put it under his chest as he laid down on his stomach. Chanyeol laughed. His voice was a bit raspy and dragged out—he was tired. Of course he would be, after a four set match. Baekhyun was surprised to find him awake. He’d almost hoped Chanyeol was asleep.

Chanyeol continued, “You looked pissed.” He laughed again, stopping midway to yawn. Baekhyun could picture his stupid grin. “Did you seriously call the crowd brainless? That's what they’re saying on Twitter, but I can’t read lips well.”

“Yeah, well, the crowd sucked,” Baekhyun said in an attempt to make an excuse for himself. The crowd did suck, though. Couldn’t keep quiet during his service, whistling and booing every time he took a point from his opponent. “Australian crowds always suck. They should seriously hop off my dick.”

“Well, remember, you did beat out their compatriot in the quarter-finals,” Chanyeol noted. Baekhyun smiled at the memory. That was a good match. A clean victory in three sets. He immediately frowned when he realised he should’ve won this one, too. “You’re not the most well-liked player, either. Seriously, what did you expect? Also, you called them brainless. There’s that, too.”

“I still deserve some respect, don’t you think?” Baekhyun was rubbing his shoulder, rolling the sleeves of his t-shirt over it in the process. It was January, yet in Australia, it was hot. That backwards country…

“Well…”

“You’re an ass.” Baekhyun sunk his face into the pillow. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“You tell me! You’re the one who called.”

“Whatever.”

Baekhyun yawned. He forgot to check the time. It was near midnight, probably. Chanyeol should’ve been asleep by now. Baekhyun should probably leave him alone and call it a night, too. But Baekhyun rarely did things that should be done.

“Hey, you wanna come over?”

There was silence on the other end. Heat washed over Baekhyun, his heartbeat picking up. He started picking at the pillowcase.

“You’re in the same hotel, right? I just wanted to hang out with someone. Bad day, you know? And I’m bored. But it’s fine.”

“Relax. I’m just thinking about the smart thing to do,” Chanyeol said. Baekhyun sucked in his bottom lip. His body was only getting warmer. He cursed the weather of that place. “Alright. I’ll come.”

When Baekhyun breathed out, if was as if he’d released all the tension from his body.

“And that’s the smart thing to do?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Chanyeol answered. Against himself, Baekhyun smiled. “What room are you in?”

Baekhyun cleared his throat, chasing his smile away. “408.”

“Be there in a bit.”

Baekhyun hung up.

There wasn’t much to do while he waited for Chanyeol to come. Baekhyun made a short trip to the bathroom. He washed his face, rubbing away any exhaustion that may have crept on its edges.

When he looked into the mirror, flinched out of fear. Pale face, dark eye bags. He wondered if Chanyeol got scared when he looked at him, too. Did Chanyeol ever look at him and wonder what became of the boy he used to know?

The two of them had first met as teenagers at a local tournament in their home country, South Korea. Both of them were aspiring tennis champions, much like everyone else there, but the two of them were obviously a cut above the rest—not only by their game, but based on their presence as well. It was funny, how those things were visible from so early on—who was good enough to become a professional, and who would soon have to stop dreaming of ever making it.

But the similarities ended there. Chanyeol was the kind of boy that watched everything with awe, wide-eyed and excited, approaching tennis as any other fun game. Baekhyun, on the other hand, was serious even at that age, with only one goal in his mind—win. The court was his war zone, and the opponents were his enemies. He wasn’t there to make friends. He was there to show he was the best.

They were the two best players there, and fate had it set that they played the finals together. Baekhyun took one look at the awkward lanky boy on the other side of the court and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. He was sure he was going to win. No one who looked that silly could win against Baekhyun.

Baekhyun was wrong to judge Chanyeol so quickly, of course. The defeat he experienced that day was the beginning of a years-long rivalry. It was the first match Baekhyun had lost in a long time, and it served as a wake-up call of sorts. He resented Chanyeol for winning against him at the time, but looking back at it later on, he realised it was necessary. It made Baekhyun want to become better. Other than becoming number one, defeating Chanyeol became the driving force behind Baekhyun’s improvement.

As they became pros and started climbing the ranks, they often met on the ATP 500 and 1000 circuits. Both of them were gaining points quickly, nearing the top 50 at a rapid speed. Their head-to-head was equal. Even at lower ranks, their rivalry was something to witness, something crowds were excited to see develop. Chanyeol had never beaten Baekhyun on grass, though. That was Baekhyun’s territory.

Baekhyun didn’t see Chanyeol as a friend in the beginning. In fact, he disliked Chanyeol for the longest time. He still didn’t like him, but Chanyeol’s skills earned his respect, and he didn’t treat Baekhyun like shit despite his attitude. Baekhyun was well aware of his attitude, and it wasn’t something most people—fellow players included—could handle. Though in his opinion, he didn’t have the worst temper ever. He wondered why Chanyeol put up with him. Baekhyun used to be particularly nasty towards him. And now, Chanyeol was the closest thing he had to a friend. Life worked in mysterious ways.

A knock on his door startled him. Chanyeol was there.

“Took you long enough,” Baekhyun said as he opened the door. Chanyeol looked down at him, quirking an eyebrow. His lips twisted into his signature smirk, the one Baekhyun always found annoying.

On the other hand, Chanyeol’s fans, especially the female ones, adored it, earning Chanyeol the honorary title of court heart-throb. Baekhyun had seen the praises Chanyeol got on social media, mainly Twitter.

As for himself, Baekhyun spoke his mind too often to have a sentimental nickname such as that, but he had a decent fan following behind him. His only fault was that he wasn’t the picture perfect, beloved sweetheart everyone wanted their number one to be. But Baekhyun didn’t play for other people’s approval.

“So eager to see me, huh?” Chanyeol said. Baekhyun rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.

They stood at the doorway for a moment too long. Baekhyun put his hands behind his back and leaned on the door, his gaze fixed somewhere behind Chanyeol. He figured he should say something, but couldn't come up with anything.

"So…" Chanyeol trailed off, playing with the beaded bracelet he always wore. "What'd you call me up for?"

Baekhyun shrugged and walked past Chanyeol, brushing him with his shoulder as he passed. Chanyeol turned around.

"Just hang out, I don't know," Baekhyun said, sitting down on the bed. Chanyeol still stood in place in that small hallway. It looked even more cramped with him standing there.

"Okay."

Chanyeol crossed his arms and leaned on the wall with his shoulder. He was in his pyjamas, a loose white t-shirt and plaid pants. They hung loose on his hips.

"What did you have in mind, then?" Chanyeol asked, snapping Baekhyun's gaze away from the small strip of skin visible. He cleared his throat and pulled his bottoms up.

Baekhyun pulled one leg up on the bed and rubbed his ankle.

"Whatever people do when they hang out."

Chanyeol smiled at that. He finally entered the room and started looking around. There was a plasma TV, some paintings, and a table with magazines Baekhyun didn't spare one look at.

"Right, of course you don't know," Chanyeol said. He noticed the tennis ball on the floor and picked it up, throwing it in the air and catching it as it fell. Baekhyun narrowed his eyes. Chanyeol looked at him, an annoying smile still plastered on his face. If only Baekhyun could figure out a way to make it disappear. "You don't have any friends. I forgot."

He tossed the ball at Baekhyun, surprising him. Baekhyun almost missed it, but he did catch it. He always caught it.

"Shut up," he said, flinging the ball back at Chanyeol. Chanyeol gasped at the sudden change of pace. "I have friends."

"Other than me?" Chanyeol threw the ball back, gently. Baekhyun rolled his eyes.

"We're not friends."

"Okay… So you don't have any friends."

He grinned. Baekhyun huffed and threw the ball at him again, aiming to hit. To hurt. Chanyeol, of course, caught it, even though Baekhyun threw it with all the strength that was left in him. But he didn't throw it back, choosing to mindlessly toy with it in his own hands and effectively put a stop to their game. Baekhyun pouted.

Chanyeol observed the room. Baekhyun observed him.

He was tall. Baekhyun knew that. Chanyeol had always been tall, ever since they were teenagers. Baekhyun used to envy him for that. He was shorter than the average tennis player—way shorter. Especially for one of his ranking. The top ten were six feet tall at least—Baekhyun was two inches behind, which didn't sound like a lot, but it was certainly noticeable when he stood next to other players. Chanyeol especially.

But Baekhyun didn't like calling his height a disadvantage. If anything, it helped him. It made him work harder, made him want to prove himself more. He had to be more creative. His serve had been called surprisingly powerful, which he only found mildly condescending. And no active player was a match for his slice serve, in his very humble opinion.

Chanyeol wasn't just tall though. Baekhyun narrowed his eyes as Chanyeol walked up to the window to watch the city below. He wasn't the lanky teenager that wore his height awkwardly anymore. He grew into it. His muscles were more defined, his shoulders and back were now wider. Baekhyun could see all of that, even though Chanyeol's t-shirt was a few sizes too big. He always wore large clothing outside the court.

"You got a nice view," Chanyeol said. Baekhyun didn't think so.

"I don't care."

"How do you just not care?" Chanyeol asked, staring out the window with wide eyes and lips parted. Baekhyun could see his reflection in the window, lit up by the city lights.

Chanyeol turned to look at Baekhyun. Baekhyun averted his gaze before he could catch his eyes, pretending to have been staring at his lap the entire time.

"It's a cool city," Chanyeol said, pushing himself off the window and approaching the bed. "You've done some sightseeing, right?"

He sat down, the bed gently denting under his weight. Baekhyun scooted away as much as possible.

"Sightseeing?" Baekhyun didn't have time for such silly things. "I was practicing."

"All the time?" Chanyeol was looking at him as if Baekhyun was insane. The wide grin stretched across his lips didn't quite reach his eyes, worn out due to exhaustion.

"Yes," Baekhyun dead-panned. "I take this seriously."

Chanyeol shrugged and lay down on the bed, covering its entire length. Baekhyun licked his lips. Something odd stirred in his chest.

They sat in silence. Sometimes it was all they'd do together. Whenever they happened to catch each other on the court while training, they'd make a silent agreement to act as each others sparring partner for a bit. All it'd take was one look, and Baekhyun was on the other side of the court. Baekhyun didn't have his own sparring partner—no one understood his game enough or made him improve the way Chanyeol did. No one could compare, really. It wasn't something he'd ever admit, but Baekhyun suspected Chanyeol had already figured it out by himself.

Other times, they'd see each other in the changing rooms. Baekhyun often remembered one time, after a particularly exhausting practice. He was tired, sweaty, incapable of much other than sitting and waiting for his breath to come back. It was rough because his father was there with him, and Baekhyun always played a bit worse when his father was around. Which, of course, meant he was forced to train twice as long.

Chanyeol came in then, and sat right next to him, despite the fact that the two of them were the only ones there and he had all the room in the world. Neither of them spoke, both of them too tired to form any kind of coherent thought, let alone vocalise them. But they were both hyperaware of the other's presence. Baekhyun leaned his head on Chanyeol's shoulder, and they sat there like that for an undefined amount of time—too long, no matter how much it was. And he'd found Chanyeol's shoulder too comfortable. He never did that again.

Baekhyun knew he could let this silence drag on. He could sit there next to Chanyeol, the feeling of his presence engulfing him entirely, an all too familiar itch crawling over his skin, unnerving him—but the sound of Chanyeol's breathing calmed him down, too. He had a paradoxical effect on Baekhyun, and often he didn't know how to handle it. Baekhyun wanted him close, he wanted him far away. Chanyeol made him irrationally angry, but also content.

Neither of them had a problem with shared silences, Baekhyun knew that well enough. They even enjoyed it. Too much, perhaps.

"Uh, good match," he said, afraid of what he might do if the silence dragged on for too long.

"You didn't watch it." Chanyeol sounded too sure in that fact for Baekhyun's liking. And the smile he gave Baekhyun only made it worse.

Baekhyun gave him a dry chuckle. "What makes you think so?" he asked, staring at the ceiling. He caught Chanyeol's shrug with the corner of his eye.

"When you watch, you always call right after the match ends," he answered. Baekhyun furrowed his eyebrows. Did he? He hadn't noticed. He didn't know Chanyeol was do attentive. "You didn't today. Which is understandable."

He rose up to sit next to Baekhyun, his expression unreadable, the tiniest frown on his lips. Baekhyun licked his own dry lips, gulping down on nothing. Chanyeol's voice suddenly became quieter, softer.

"What happened to you out there?"

Baekhyun sighed.

"Can't a guy have a bad day? I don't know..."

"Yeah, but–," Chanyeol yawned. It took him a moment to continue speaking. "You just seemed so out of it on the court. It wasn't like you."

Baekhyun, of course, knew what was wrong. And it was the cause of every one of his bad games. He didn't feel like bringing it up, though.

The silence was probably an obvious sign to Chanyeol, because he quickly changed subjects.

"That press conference was hilarious, by the way."

He rubbed Baekhyun's thigh. Baekhyun tensed up.

"Oh, shut it. Junmyeon gave me a mouthful over it."

Chanyeol laughed and pulled his hand away. Baekhyun slumped back against the pillows and looked up at the ceiling. He hated how white it was.

"My dad called," he said, surprising himself. He didn't need to look at Chanyeol to know his focus was on Baekhyun only. Baekhyun took a deep breath.

"Right after my quarter-final match. He said my backhand was weak, and that my service could use some practice."

He started to play with his fingers, trying to distract himself from how his father's words made him feel. He paused until he felt his voice wouldn't shake as much.

"I was stupid to pick up, really. I should've learned by now."

All Baekhyun could think about during that day's match were his father's words. He overthought his every backhand, every service. He'd never made more double faults in his entire career. The worst thing was, Baekhyun knew what was happening. He knew that all he had to do was ignore his father's words, and he'd play better. But he couldn't. He couldn't.

"Hey. You're being too hard on yourself." Chanyeol's voice was soft. Too soft. Everything about Chanyeol was too much. It made Baekhyun want to punch the wall, or break a racket, or do something equally as violent. He didn't know why Chanyeol was so nice towards him. Maybe it was some sort of tactic, maybe every single thing Chanyeol did around him was a tactic. A plan to get into his head, break him down from the inside. Baekhyun couldn't figure it out, and it frustrated him.

He heard Chanyeol shift, felt the bed move. Chanyeol was soon lying by Baekhyun's side. He put a hand over Baekhyun's, stilling his movements. On a normal day, he'd get shaken off and pushed away. On a normal day.

"Baekhyun. Hey."

"Was it too stupid to expect to hear a good job?" Baekhyun continued, ignoring Chanyeol. Tears were rising up his throat again, but he gulped them down, same way he did his entire life. "I don't think he's ever said those words in his life. Why would it be any different now?"

"Because you did do a good job." Chanyeol was stubborn. Baekhyun wanted to break down, to scream at him, tell him he was wrong, so wrong, but Chanyeol's hand was grounding him. All he could focus on was Chanyeol's thumb rubbing circles into his palm. Chanyeol was too good at this. He was entirely too much. "Baekhyun, that old guy doesn't know what he's talking about. Are you the third best ranked player in the world right now, or is he?"

Chanyeol did make a logical point. Baekhyun shrugged and said nothing.

"And, for the record, I think your backhand is fine," Chanyeol said.

A beat passed. "What about my service?"

Chanyeol tilted his head to the side. Baekhyun twisted his head so he could get a good look at him. Chanyeol's cheeks were rosy and the tips of his ears were red. Baekhyun could see the corners of his mouth turning up slowly. It was hypnotising.

"Eh. Could be more elegant, honestly."

Baekhyun's eyes widened. His mouth fell open, and he pushed Chanyeol away as he rose to sit up. The illusion was over as soon as Chanyeol's hand left him.

"My service could be more elegant? Look who's talking! You're eighty percent limb!"

He moved further back on the bed, leaning on one of the pillows prepped against the headboard. "You look like a noodle when you serve."

Chanyeol laughed, sudden and loud. It echoed through Baekhyun's mind.

"Right," he said. "But what's your excuse?"

Baekhyun lunged forward and tugged Chanyeol's hair, pulling his head back. Chanyeol kept laughing, his stupid grin making Baekhyun smile back. Baekhyun tugged harder, and Chanyeol grimaced.

Baekhyun's mouth went dry.

"Shut up," he breathed out, regaining his senses soon. "My service is great."

"Yeah. See?" Chanyeol smiled. It took Baekhyun a moment to realise what Chanyeol managed to do. He really was too good.

"Whatever," was all Baekhyun said before letting Chanyeol go and settling against the headboard. He sunk into the pillows.

Chanyeol lay down on his stomach, his head resting on his crossed arms. Baekhyun was sulking, angry that Chanyeol got the best of him. Chanyeol wasn't supposed to be like this.

He had to ask, "Why are you so nice to me?"

Chanyeol frowned, seemingly surprised to hear such a question.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm mean and unpleasant." Baekhyun crossed his arms. "Especially towards you. So, why?"

"You're nice," Chanyeol said. Baekhyun pulled his knees close to himself and hugged his legs. "You just like to think that you aren't. But you are."

Baekhyun scoffed. "How am I nice?"

Chanyeol shrugged.

"Well, first, you invited me over to hang out and celebrate me entering the finals."

"That was absolutely not the purpose of your visit."

Chanyeol smiled and closed his eyes. He hummed. Baekhyun thought the way his hair framed his face now fit him. Much more than his old haircuts.

"You take the time to play with me when we see each other on the court on our off days. I don't even have to ask."

"That's sort of my job. Not really nice. I only do it so I can defeat you more often."

Chanyeol chuckled.

"Right. You're also petting my hair right now."

"I'm–"

Baekhyun stilled his movements. He hadn't realised. His hand was in Chanyeol's hair, his fingers entangled between its black locks. They were soft. Baekhyun pulled his hand back, bringing it close to his chest, rubbing his wrist with the other hand.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine." Chanyeol closed his eyes again. His cheek was pressed against his arm, and it looked softer now. Rounder than usual. Baekhyun got a weird urge to poke it. "It's... Nice, even."

"It's..." Baekhyun sighed. His skin felt too tight, and he couldn't seem to breathe properly. "Whatever. You didn't convince me, by the way."

Chanyeol prepped himself up with his arms, his face now in line with Baekhyun's. He got so close, Baekhyun could see how red the whites of his eyes were on the edges, how slow his every move was. He was tired, Baekhyun realised. He was tired, and Baekhyun was keeping him up.

"Fine," Chanyeol said. Baekhyun swore his voice was deeper, too. "You're mean. You're awful. Absolutely horrible."

Baekhyun gulped. That was the truth. He knew it. But hearing Chanyeol say it... He'd never expected it to hurt this way. His body stiffened.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" Chanyeol asked. Baekhyun felt like he was being scolded. He wanted to say yes, but truthfully, he didn't want to hear Chanyeol say those things. Not really. "You want me to tell you you're all of those things? That's what you want, isn't it? And you know what? I don't care."

Baekhyun's vision started to become blurry. He rubbed his eyes, hoping the movement was nonchalant enough, but he knew the timing was horrible. He took in a breath, wanting to say something, anything, but his voice got caught in his throat. If he tried saying anything he would've... Done something he hadn't allowed himself in a long time.

"I don't care if you're mean, or if you think you're mean, or whatever." Chanyeol closed his eyes and breathed out. He moved his body so he could to sit next to Baekhyun, back against the hard wooden headrest. He leaned his head against the wall. Baekhyun traced the line of his neck with his eyes. He sucked in his bottom lip, hugged his legs tighter, pretended he didn't see Chanyeol swallow, or that it affected him in any way.

Chanyeol turned his head. Baekhyun was too stunned to break eye contact.

"I'd still be nice to you, you know?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"Why?" Baekhyun repeated, gasping the word out. It was weak around the edges, desperate and pathetic. Chanyeol smiled lazily, eyes droopy.

"I don't know. I like having you around."

Chanyeol's eyes traced the lines of Baekhyun's face. Baekhyun felt their weight, took notice of his droopy eyelids and the light blush in his cheeks.

"Just shut up," Baekhyun said. Chanyeol laughed softly next to him. Chanyeol only seemed rough at first glance, but none of his edges were sharp.

Baekhyun heard him groan, his back most likely pressing against the backrest in an uncomfortable position. So, Baekhyun sat up and took one of the pillows he was sitting against.

He handed it to Chanyeol.

"Your back will hurt," he said. Chanyeol smiled.

"And then you say you're not nice."

"I'm–" he huffed. "Not nice. Give it back."

"Nope." Chanyeol hugged it tightly. "It's mine now. I'll cherish it forever."

"Idiot," he whispered.

Baekhyun turned around and looked at the wall opposite from them. He needed a distraction, because he didn't want to think of the way Chanyeol looked right now. "Wanna watch TV?"

"What do you want to watch?" Chanyeol asked.

"I'll put on your match," Baekhyun said. Chanyeol's eyes widened, and he shook his head. Baekhyun smirked. "What is it? Didn't you want me to?"

"I don't want to be around you while you watch!" Chanyeol hugged the pillow tighter, hiding his face behind it. He mumbled into it. "I make awful faces when I play."

"Oh, I know." Baekhyun's smile widened. Chanyeol's cheeks kept getting redder. It felt good, getting the upper hand back. He reached towards the bedside table, took the remote control and aimed it at the TV.

Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun's wrist and tugged him closer.

"Baekhyun, seriously–"

"Hey, let go!"

Baekhyun pulled his hand back. Chanyeol wouldn't release him, and they entered a sort of tug of war, with Chanyeol trying to take the remote control and Baekhyun doing his best to keep it.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Baekhyun started to laugh. He slid down and held the remote above his head. Chanyeol straddled his waist. The bed squeaked under them.

Baekhyun kept laughing, couldn't seem to stop. Tears lined the edges of his eyes. Chanyeol grabbed his wrists.

They paused. Chanyeol was staring down at him, his hair and shirt a mess. Baekhyun swallowed. His skin burned where Chanyeol touched him, and his body felt tense. As if he was frozen.

Chanyeol parted his pink lips, as if he wanted to say something, but the ringing of a phone interrupted him.

Baekhyun felt like he'd been shaken out of a trance. Chanyeol looked down, his cheeks tinted red. All Baekhyun could hear were the sounds of his ringtone and their heavy breathing.

"Um," Chanyeol stuttered, moving off of him. Baekhyun felt cold, an uncomfortable chill wash over him. "You should get that?"

Baekhyun didn't need to look at the screen to know who was calling and that he shouldn't pick it up. But the constant ringing was becoming annoying, and it wouldn't stop until Baekhyun picked it up. It would ring for days. And even if Baekhyun didn't pick it up, it would catch up to him later. He couldn't avoid his father forever.

Baekhyun got up from the bed to take his phone. For a moment, he only stared down at it, bracing himself mentally. He'll be strong this time, he told himself. It's what he told himself every time. But this time, he would really stand his ground.

Chanyeol frowned at him.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice heavy with worry. Baekhyun hated it. He hated it when people worried about him, thinking he was weak. And most of all he hated it when the worry came from Chanyeol—someone he definitely didn't want nor deserve it from.

"I'm fine," Baekhyun replied, smiling briefly in his direction. He wasn't going to show himself losing control in front of his rival. He'd never have the upper hand back. "Just, I gotta take this."

Chanyeol nodded and sat back on the bed. Baekhyun wasn't looking at him, but he could feel his stare on his back.

With one final deep breath, Baekhyun picked up.

"Finally stopped moping around, have you?"

The voice that made him cower with fear as a small child spoke through the speaker with as much poison as it always did. Baekhyun felt his posture crumble immediately.

"Hey dad," Baekhyun tried to sound unbothered. As if he wasn't dreading the inevitable conversation for the entire day. "No, I was just... Resting, you know?"

"Needed rest after a match like that?" his father asked, throwing in a chuckle in the end. Baekhyun bit his lip. "Ah, what happened to you, my boy? You used to be able to play two matches in a row."

"No, I just–" Baekhyun choked on his words, but covered it up with a short laugh. "I didn't rest enough the day before, I guess. And I was a bit... unfocused."

"Is that how I taught you? Did I teach you to take tennis like any other game?" he asked. Baekhyun felt his eyes sting.

Suddenly he was thirteen years old again, and his father was scolding him after losing to that tall, pathetic-looking kid. He was being told he'd never make it if he kept losing to people less than him.

"Is that the mindset of a victor?"

Baekhyun was picking at the skin of his elbow with his free hand. He looked outside the window and caught his own reflection. He looked away immediately.

"No," he answered. Then quickly, he added, "I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."

He closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to calm down. He didn't want to apologise. He knew he didn't have to. But somehow, his father always got it out of him.

"No need to say sorry to me. It's your career on the line," his father said. "And, well, my wasted time."

"I'll–" Baekhyun gulped. "I'll do better."

"I do hope so, son," his father said. Baekhyun pinched the tip of his nose. It was all getting too much. "It's getting late. You should've been asleep by now."

"Yes," Baekhyun sighed. "I'm going now."

"Good. Don't forget what I told you. The best or nothing."

How could I ever, Baekhyun wondered. Instead, he said, "Good night."

His father hung up.

Baekhyun dropped the phone to the floor. His breathing was becoming more difficult to control, a stranger lightness overpowering his senses. He could barely feel his limbs.

Chanyeol jumped off the bed and ran up to him.

"Baekhyun, are–"

"I'm a fraud," Baekhyun said. A look of worry was apparent on Chanyeol's face. Chanyeol seemed to worry too much about him. Baekhyun wasn't sure how to feel about it. He was sure he didn't deserve one bit of it, though.

Chanyeol guided him towards the bed and had them sit. He put a hand over Baekhyun's own. Baekhyun pulled it away. He didn't have the energy to deal with all of that.

"What are you talking about?" Chanyeol asked, pulling his hand back.

Baekhyun laughed softly.

"I say I'm playing for myself, but really, I'm– I've always been playing for my father."

Chanyeol didn't say anything. He didn't try to disagree, or prove him wrong. Because he couldn't. Baekhyun could still hear his father's voice echoing in his mind, somewhere far away, but forever present.

"I mean, what am I even playing for anymore? Some approval that I'm never going to get?" His voice was rising in volume. "What will happen if I get that first rank, and nothing changes? What then, Chanyeol? Seriously."

Chanyeol looked down. He didn't look defeated—his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was processing everything in his head, carefully assembling an argument. And Baekhyun needed one. He needed a damn good argument. He needed someone—Chanyeol, he needed Chanyeol to convince him he was wrong. But his words kept slipping out, not caring for any of that.

"When I was younger, at least everything was new and exciting. I've had so many firsts ahead of me," he continued. He smiled to himself at a memory. "Like, my first junior grand slam... You remember that one? Roland Garros. You were there too."

They were sixteen. Baekhyun distinctly remembered Chanyeol's poor attempt at letting his hair grow. It was everywhere, and Baekhyun thought he looked stupid, but Chanyeol was still smiling and showing off his dimple as if he didn't look like a circus freak. Baekhyun recalled how happy he was when he proceeded into the next round when Chanyeol didn't. And then, feeling an odd missing for the rest of the tournament.

"Yeah," Chanyeol said. He wore a small smile on his lips, too, his eyes fixated downwards while reliving the memory. "Man. I totally flunked, but that was one of the best moments of my life."

"Yeah. You're even– Fuck, we were eating right next to the top players." Baekhyun gasped, as if he was still that boy. As if he was at the beginning of his journey. "And you're thinking, that's gonna be me someday. I'm going to be one of them.

"Then, you're entering the top fifty. The first time you play a real grand slam. The first time you win one," Baekhyun kept counting all the important milestones he'd set for himself back when he was a kid. How quickly he got through all of them—in mere five years. Everything had happened too fast for him to realise.

"I just– I dreamt of Wimbledon ever since I was young. Now I've won it twice."

Baekhyun thought back on the first match he'd ever seen in person. He was a child, barely seven years old, but he could recall every moment, the feeling of wonder and excitement. It was the Wimbledon finals, and his father had bought them tickets to watch. He told Baekhyun it was time for him to see a real match.

Up until that point, tennis was only a hobby for Baekhyun, something he was doing to please his father. He was still a child and didn't know what he really wanted. But after those finals, after experiencing that grand event, he'd decided for himself.

He would do that too. He'd win the Wimbledon finals, too. He would become a real tennis player.

"I've wanted to be number one for so long."

And he wouldn't be just any tennis player. He would be the best. Number one.

"I'm third now. Which isn't quite there, but it's close."

Baekhyun sighed. If he hadn't lost the semi-finals match and proceeded to the Australian Open, he would've had enough points to reach that position. That number one spot was within arm's reach. It was closer than ever. And Baekhyun fucking dropped the ball.

But that realisation didn't defeat him as much as he expected it to. In a way, he was glad. It meant his journey wasn't finished yet. He still had more to play for.

Chanyeol stayed silent, but Baekhyun felt him there. It was an overwhelming presence. Baekhyun could feel the heat radiating off his body enveloping him in an embrace. It stuck to his skin, impossible to shake off. Chanyeol wasn't even touching him—what more if he did?

"You know, sometimes I wonder, what's more there for me to achieve after that? If I get to the number one spot, if I ever get that career grand slam…"

Baekhyun breathed in, his body trembling. Chanyeol put his hand over Baekhyun's and it calmed him in an instant. A sob rose up Baekhyun's chest, but he swallowed it down.

"What next? What more?" Baekhyun asked. He didn't have the answer. He hoped Chanyeol did. "My dreams stopped there. I'm worried... If I get there, I'll lose my drive."

Chanyeol put an arm around Baekhyun's shoulder.

"I don't know what to do after that. Keep winning? I mean, I want to win, but…"

Baekhyun leaned on Chanyeol's shoulder. It felt as comfortable as it did that day in the dressing room. He closed his damp eyes.

He would not cry. Not in Chanyeol's presence.

"I don't think I've thought my dreams through further from becoming number one," Baekhyun admitted. "And what if it doesn't feel... Good? What if I still feel unaccomplished after that?"

After every win, the thrill of being one step closer to achieving his dream pushed him further. And after a loss, the thought of someday accomplishing his goal kept him from losing it.

But what happens after he gets it? Where will he want to go next?

"What will I strive for then, Chanyeol? Maybe that's why I let down that last match. Maybe I did that on purpose."

Baekhyun was afraid of what came after. What was there left for Baekhyun after all of that?

Chanyeol sighed. Baekhyun felt his chest rise as he breathed in and out.

"I don't know, Baekhyun," he said. "I know sometimes, when we try our best and lose, it's easier to pretend it's not our fault. Or that we didn't even want it in the first place."

Baekhyun kept quiet. He'd already spoken too much. Chanyeol leaned his cheek on Baekhyun's head.

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with that," Chanyeol said. He rubbed Baekhyun's shoulder, and with his other hand, still on top of Baekhyun's, he squeezed Baekhyun's palm. "It's how we cope. God knows how many times I felt like a failure."

Baekhyun furrowed his eyebrows. He couldn't imagine Chanyeol beating himself up over a loss. He always seemed mature about it with his bright, easy-going attitude. Maybe there was more to him than Baekhyun first thought.

"But losses don't mean we failed," Chanyeol explained. "It's all part of the journey. You have to learn to take the best out of those and not give in to the bad thoughts, you know?"

Baekhyun unintentionally wrapped his fingers around Chanyeol's hand. It was like an instinct.

"And there's a lot left to accomplish. You can always go for an Olympic gold medal."

Baekhyun groaned.

"An Olympic gold medal?" he asked. "Who even takes that seriously?"

Chanyeol tutted.

"Oh come on, what do you have against the Olympics?"

"I don't know." Baekhyun shrugged. The motion bumped their bodies closer together. "I just have something against everything."

"And what do you have against me?"

A lot of things, Baekhyun wanted to say. He hated how reasonable Chanyeol sounded and wouldn't let Baekhyun lose his mind. He hated that smile he wore even when things were difficult.

And he hated the way Chanyeol made him feel by just holding him like that.

"...Nothing."

They went silent. Baekhyun listened to Chanyeol breathe, his ear near Chanyeol's chest. He listened to his heartbeat as it slowly picked up its pace.

Baekhyun could hear his own heartbeat as well, the blood rushing to his ears. It was deafening, drowning out his thoughts.

"Um…" Chanyeol chuckled. "You can go for doubles titles?"

"Doubles are for has-beens and never-will-bes. I'm neither"

"Hey, that's not true at all!" Chanyeol nudged him. Baekhyun smiled. It was comments like that which made Baekhyun so disliked in the sports community. "Many serious players do it. I think it's fun."

"I don't know," Baekhyun said. "I've never thought about doubles. The reason I like tennis is that it's a one man sport. I don't do well in teams."

"I'm not surprised."

Baekhyun hit him with his elbow. Chanyeol yelped as he laughed, releasing Baekhyun's hand to rub the spot where he was hit. Baekhyun put his hands between his thighs.

It was true, though. Baekhyun didn't do well in teams. He already butted heads with both his agent and trainer. Being on the same side of the court as another player seemed impossible.

"I wanted to ask though," Chanyeol started. He shifted, the bed denting as he moved. He released Baekhyun from his hold and put a bit of distance between them. Baekhyun looked over at him, tracing the lines of his profile.

Chanyeol breathed in, an unsure smile on his lips.

"I'd like to try doubles with you once," he said. He was still avoiding looking back at Baekhyun. "Like, on the same team."

Was Chanyeol seriously suggesting that knowing Baekhyun's disagreeable nature? Playing with him would be hell. Baekhyun couldn't figure out why he'd suggest that.

"... Sounds okay."

That answer surprised even Baekhyun.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Chanyeol looked at him, expression unreadable. His gaze was fixed downwards, on Baekhyun's chest. Or maybe his lips.

Baekhyun cleared his throat and continued.

"I mean, If I was going to make a good team with anyone, it'd…"

They locked eyes. Baekhyun's breath got caught in his throat.

"... It'd probably be you."

They stared at each other, neither of them wavering. Chanyeol's gaze was uncertain, his cheeks tinted pink. He was pretty, Baekhyun thought.

He leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't the first time they'd kissed. It was their third, if Baekhyun kept count well.

The first time, they were about seventeen.

It was during the Queen's Club Championships, right after their quarter-final match. Baekhyun won, but only barely. The last set was a tiebreaker. It was summer, and the weather was hot. Baekhyun was sweaty, tired, frustrated, and Chanyeol was being annoying.

Well, Chanyeol wasn't really doing anything. He was simply there, in their shared locker room after a tough match. But his mere presence was always enough to rile Baekhyun up.

Chanyeol seemed upset, and the jabs Baekhyun was throwing at him probably weren't helping his mood, but he kept quiet the entire time.

Baekhyun liked pissing Chanyeol off, especially back then. Chanyeol was difficult to tip over the edge, and this loss seemed like the perfect opportunity for Baekhyun to finally get his way.

Except, it didn't exactly go as Baekhyun planned. Unlike Chanyeol, Baekhyun was easy to piss off. All it took was one comment about him being a daddy's boy, and Chanyeol was pushed against the lockers, fingers tightly gripping and pulling at the collar of his shirt.

They were both breathing heavily, the exhaustion from the match fresh. Chanyeol's breath tickled Baekhyun's cheek.

Baekhyun wasn't sure what happened in his mind then. Maybe it was his teenage hormones, the summer heat and the clothes sticking to his body, or the adrenaline rush he got from his victory. Maybe it was the anger he felt at Chanyeol for not wanting to submit fully even after suffering a defeat.

Maybe it was because he thought Chanyeol was pretty even back then, even if he still hadn't grown into his size and his curly hair was all over the place.

Whatever it was, after pushing Chanyeol against the lockers, after pressing their bodies close, after feeling Chanyeol's hot breath on his face... Baekhyun kissed him.

Chanyeol was obviously caught by surprise. He didn't react at first, stiff and unresponsive under Baekhyun's body. Baekhyun kept pressing their lips together, as hard as possible. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to release the frustration he felt inside of him, and he wanted Chanyeol to feel all of it.

When Chanyeol kissed back, it was sloppy. Baekhyun thought about it later and decided it was probably Chanyeol's first kiss. It was wet and awkward, and Chanyeol didn't touch Baekhyun at all. But Baekhyun kept going. He didn't care if it wasn't particularly enjoyable.

He realised what he was doing only when he felt Chanyeol put his hands on his waist. All he remembered was how burning hot they were. He pushed himself away, staring at Chanyeol's wide eyes and wet lips. He looked like a mess. The way he looked imprinted itself into Baekhyun's mind. It came back to him more often than he liked to admit.

They stood like that for a few seconds, breathless, sweaty, tired. Then Baekhyun turned away and left without a word.

He probably shouldn't have left without saying anything. But he didn't know what to say, or how to react.

The next few times Baekhyun saw Chanyeol, he was ignored. He thought it was understandable, given what happened between them. And he didn't care if Chanyeol didn't talk to him. They weren't friends.

But it did get annoying after a while.

There was no one to throw playful jabs at. No one that knew how to respond to him, to act as his equal, to motivate him further.

As much as Baekhyun didn't like Chanyeol, he liked having a rival. So, he decided to apologise. Kind of.

He found Chanyeol sitting alone by the court one day. He made his way to him quickly, before Chanyeol could notice, before he could disappear again.

"Is this about the kiss?" Baekhyun asked.

Chanyeol tensed up and looked at Baekhyun. He didn't say anything, but Baekhyun could tell. He could tell by the way Chanyeol's wide eyes refused to meet Baekhyun's, the way his eyes fell on Baekhyun's mouth, and by the way Chanyeol's teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

"Because if it was... That was just a stupid, heat of the moment thing," Baekhyun continued. He crossed his arms and looked down at his feet. "It didn't mean anything. So... Don't think I'm weird and hate me, or whatever."

"Right..." Chanyeol sighed. He was playing with the bracelet on his wrist, his eyebrows furrowed. It looked like he was contemplating something. "It was nothing, huh?"

Baekhyun gulped. "Nothing."

It wasn't like he thought of the way Chanyeol's body felt against his after that. He didn't think of what he felt when his leg was between Chanyeol's, he didn't replay the soft moan that escaped him. Because it really meant nothing.

Chanyeol nodded. "Okay."

But it took a while before Chanyeol smiled at him again. And when he finally did, Baekhyun was surprised at how much he missed it.

The second time they kissed was only a few months ago.

They were sparring, silent as they always were. It was an open court, it was already night, but the two of them were still at it, even after every other person had left.

But they were like that, the two of them. Tennis was everything. That was how they played. That was how they lived.

It went on for an hour, maybe two, and Baekhyun wasn't getting bored. He was, however, getting tired. So, a long time after everyone else had left, they put down their rackets and sat on a bench next to the court.

They drank water in silence. They wiped their sweat off in silence. And then they continued to sit in silence as they stared up at the starry sky.

Baekhyun didn't think to ask when Chanyeol was thinking of leaving, nor did he think of leaving himself. He didn't want to leave, not really, but he blamed it on his laziness and nothing else.

In one moment, Baekhyun turned to look at Chanyeol. He had his eyes closed and head leaned back against the wall. His wet skin glistened under the lights.

Baekhyun thought he was pretty then, too. He was much more handsome than he was at sixteen. He had more muscle, he grew into his features, his hair was neatly cut—though, messy after hours of tennis.

Chanyeol opened his eyes and looked at Baekhyun once he realised he was being watched. Baekhyun didn't look away. Neither did Chanyeol.

Then he grabbed Baekhyun by the back of the neck and pulled him into a kiss.

Baekhyun didn't fight it, though he was confused. He used to believe Chanyeol was mad at him all those years back because of their kiss. And there he was, kissing Baekhyun again. He couldn't make sense of it.

Chanyeol was a much better kisser at twenty-two than he was at sixteen. It meant he practiced. Baekhyun almost felt jealous.

His lips moved against Baekhyun's slowly, carefully. As if Chanyeol was afraid he'd disappear. It was the way he held Baekhyun, too, his hand cupping Baekhyun's face yet barely touching him. His thumb was tracing a line across Baekhyun's jaw. It made him shudder.

The kiss was lazy, slow, and fueled by something Baekhyun still didn't understand. And it was... innocent as well. Chanyeol didn't take the opportunity when Baekhyun gasped and parted his lips. It was frustrating for some reason. Baekhyun wanted more.

But Chanyeol didn't give him more. He pulled away. Baekhyun was dazed. He bit his lip, trying to make up for the loss of contact. Chanyeol gave his lips another once over before getting up and leaving. Baekhyun followed shortly. It wasn't mentioned in the dressing room, nor did they mention it any time after.

Maybe it was some sort of revenge for the time Baekhyun kissed him. And if it was, it worked. Baekhyun couldn't stop thinking about it, though he tried his best. Maybe it was good enough to want a repeat. Maybe that was the real reason why Baekhyun called Chanyeol to his room, and the reason why Chanyeol came.

Maybe that's why Baekhyun was now kissing him again.

There was something different this time. They were in the privacy of Baekhyun's room and didn't have to fear anyone catching them in the act. The only thing separating them was a thin layer of clothing but damn, did Baekhyun feel everything. It felt so much more intimate than anything else he'd experienced. And there was something... Different between the two of them, as well. Different, but Baekhyun didn't find it foreign. Perhaps it was always there, and they only saw it now.

One of his hands was on Chanyeol's shoulder, the other cupping his face. He stroked Chanyeol's cheek with his thumb, his touch light and delicate.

The kiss started out soft, but each nibble to their lips made it more heated, more rough. They still kept it slow. They kept it slow while Baekhyun's hand moved up to tug at Chanyeol's hair, while his other hand settled on Chanyeol's chest, while Chanyeol finally wrapped his arms around him and pulled their bodies closer.

Baekhyun traced Chanyeol's bottom lip with his tongue as he pulled at his hair. Chanyeol gasped—Baekhyun held back a smile, figuring he must have found a weakness of his. His brain planned out all the ways he could use it against Chanyeol as he slipped his tongue in his mouth, finally getting a taste of him.

Chanyeol sucked on his tongue, grazed it with his teeth. Baekhyun groaned and pushed Chanyeol to lay down on his back, placing one leg between Chanyeol's thighs.

He held Chanyeol down by his shoulders and grinded his knee into Chanyeol's crotch. Chanyeol let out a soft moan and grinded up to meet him halfway.

Heat spread from Baekhyun's chest to the rest of his body, fogging up his mind, numbing his limbs. All of his previous worries were forgotten now that Chanyeol was underneath him, squirming. That was all he wanted in that moment. Keep him there. Show him what he'd felt, what he'd been holding back for years.

Don't let him escape again.

Baekhyun couldn't get enough. His kisses kept growing more desperate, more out of control, and he thought to move his kisses elsewhere—to Chanyeol's jaw, or neck, maybe leave a mark there. Devour him whole. He was curious to know how much he could drive Chanyeol crazy.

But before he could do anything more, Chanyeol pushed him away.

"Baekhyun," he said, and he sounded so messed up, so fucked, Baekhyun was afraid of what he might've done if he had less self control. "Baekhyun, I'm– I'm tired. I think I should rest."

Baekhyun gave a damp kiss to Chanyeol's cheek.

"I'll do all the work," he whispered into his ear. Chanyeol whimpered and grinded on Baekhyun's knee again, but he seemed to be firm in his decision.

"Baekhyun, just... Not tonight."

Baekhyun rolled off of him and lay down next to him. The sounds of their heavy breathing and loud heartbeats filled the silence in the hotel roon. Chanyeol had a point. He had to be ready and well rested in two days for the finals. They hadn't even talked about what they were doing, or what it was going on between them exactly. It was too hasty. But when Baekhyun turned to look at Chanyeol, at his flushed cheeks and swollen lips and messed up hair, he felt a twinge of regret. Could they not discuss it after?

Chanyeol stared at the ceiling. Baekhyun looked down at where their hands were, inches away from touching. His hand twitched. It never felt so empty before.

"Hey," Chanyeol broke the silence, his voice still coarse. He cleared his throat, still not looking at Baekhyun.

"Yeah?"

"Are you gay?"

Baekhyun had to hold back from bursting into laughter. He would have, had Chanyeol not looked so serious. Shit. When did he start caring so much about how Chanyeol felt?

"I mean…" What was he even supposed to say? "I don't think I could've been more obvious."

"Well, I don't know!" Chanyeol whined, smacking Baekhyun's arm. Baekhyun laughed, rolling on his side to face Chanyeol. His face was red, his lips glossy. "Stop teasing me. I just…"

Chanyeol sighed, slumping further into the bedsheets.

"Because I am," Chanyeol said, avoiding Baekhyun's eyes. "Gay, I mean."

"No kidding."

Chanyeol chuckled.

"And it's not that I didn't– I've just never... Been with a guy."

Baekhyun hummed. "Interesting."

Chanyeol moved to lie down on his back as well. Their arms were touching. It was warm.

"You know, you're actually... The only guy I've kissed, too."

"You don't say."

Baekhyun turned to lie on his side. He poked Chanyeol's cheek. "I'm that special, huh?"

Chanyeol rolled his eyes and pushed his hand away.

"Shut up," he said, coughing to cover up a smile. But Baekhyun saw the dimple on his cheek.

"It's just... You know," Chanyeol huffed, shifting his body. Baekhyun pressed his knuckles against Chanyeol's forearm and noticed his he leaned into the touch.

Chanyeol continued, "It's hard to date or... Or even hook up when you're afraid of someone finding out."

He finally looked at Baekhyun then, after avoiding his eyes the entire time. Then he laughed and turned his head to the side, his eyes tightly shut. The way his hair curled around his ears tempted Baekhyun. "It's stupid, I know."

"No," Baekhyun said and moved closer to Chanyeol. It wasn't stupid at all. Especially not when your sponsors, your income, depended on your reputation. And Baekhyun suspected that being gay was much more detrimental to his reputation than his bad attitude. "That's why you have to find another person in the closet."

Chanyeol looked back at him, raising an eyebrow so as to coax him to go on. Baekhyun ran his hand through Chanyeol's hair and pushed it off his forehead. He paused midway, realising what he'd just done. Then he did it again.

"Um," Chanyeol stuttered. "So, who did you...?"

"Who'd I date?" Baekhyun grinned. "Well, wouldn't you like to know?"

Chanyeol shrugged. He looked down as he toyed with the hem of his shirt. Baekhyun nudged him with his fist. Embarrassing Chanyeol might have just become Baekhyun's new favourite thing.

"I'm messing with you," Baekhyun said. "Uh, you follow football? You know Kim Minseok?"

Chanyeol looked up at him, eyes wide. "No way."

Baekhyun bit his lip and nodded. Chanyeol's mouth fell open.

"Damn." He looked up at the ceiling. The light reflected in his dark eyes. "So, are you two still...?"

"Dude." Baekhyun flicked his forehead. Chanyeol yelped and rubbed the spot with his hand, chuckling. "You think I'd be making out with someone else while in a relationship? I'm not that much of an asshole."

Chanyeol ran a hand down his face. "Right. Should've thought of that."

He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth.

"I'm just tired."

Baekhyun couldn't stop staring at his lips. They looked so swollen and soft.

"Yeah. Me too."

Chanyeol smiled and closed his eyes. Baekhyun had dangerous thoughts running through his head.

"Want to sleep over?"

Chanyeol sucked in his bottom lip. He looked unsure. Almost afraid.

"Nothing will happen," Baekhyun assured him. Chanyeol's worry and innocence was almost cute. "We'll just sleep. In the same bed. With clothes on."

"Shut up, I got it," Chanyeol said, smiling through his embarrassment. Baekhyun got up to quickly turn off all the lights before getting back to the bed.

The atmosphere was different now that it was dark. Baekhyun understood Chanyeol's worry now. Looking over at Chanyeol under the covers, finally giving in to his tiredness… Well, Baekhyun was just surprised by the self control he had at that moment.

It wasn't enough, though. Baekhyun scooted closer to Chanyeol, putting an arm around him. They were face to face.

"Okay?" he asked. Chanyeol nodded. Baekhyun chuckled. "Alright."

He held Chanyeol close. Chanyeol put an arm around him as well. It was odd. Baekhyun had been intimate with other people, but this may have been the closest he'd felt to someone else. He couldn't recall ever falling asleep while cuddling someone. He couldn't remember ever wanting to.

It was fucking scary. Why was Chanyeol the one making him feel that way, of all people?

"You awake?" Baekhyun asked. Chanyeol hummed. "Can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"In the finals," Baekhyun whispered. "You better defeat that fucker. Okay?"

Chanyeol chuckled softly.

"I would've thought you'd be rooting against me."

"Well, normally, I would," Baekhyun said. Chanyeol laughed quietly again. Baekhyun shook his head. "But I prefer it when it's by my hand. And I want to see that Italian cry."

"Wow," Chanyeol said. The arm he had around Baekhyun was so heavy on him. "You do realise that if I win, I'll only need Wimbledon to achieve the record you've been chasing?"

Baekhyun scoffed.

"Yeah, good luck with Wimbledon," he said, voice growing more stern. "That's my turf."

"Easy there," Chanyeol chuckled, hand moving to the back of Baekhyun's neck. He played with the strands of his hair. The motion made Baekhyun relax. "You've only won it twice."

"And you've won it never."

"Touché."

Baekhyun found himself nuzzling into Chanyeol's chest as he smiled. He was too tired to even care.

"But, you know," Baekhyun whispered, tugging at the fabric of Chanyeol's shirt. The slow rise of Chanyeol's chest as he breathed was lulling him to sleep. "If anyone else was to have that record... I guess it's fine if it's you."

"How generous of you."

Baekhyun pinched Chanyeol's side.

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice!"

Chanyeol dragged his hand up and down Baekhyun's arm.

"I know," Chanyeol said, the smile obvious as he spoke. "I appreciate it."

A moment passed as they just held each other. Baekhyun was surprised to find how such a simple action could make him forget about his troubles, if even for a brief moment. But it was a nice break from everything. Baekhyun could almost imagine doing that every night—have Chanyeol hold him to sleep, taking his mind off all worries so he could finally rest a little.

It seemed so possible in that moment. But that was too much to ask. And the two of them weren't like that. How could Baekhyun think he could have any of this?

"Hey, Baekhyun?"

Baekhyun hummed.

"You know how… How you were looking for a reason to continue playing?"

Baekhyun stiffened. That was an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability from his part. He expected to regret it more, but something inside of him made him believe it was fine. Maybe Baekhyun would finally believe it someday.

"Yeah?"

"Can you play for me?" Chanyeol asked.

Baekhyun held himself up, his hands on either side of Chanyeol's body, hovering above him. He did his best to look Chanyeol in the eye through the darkness that surrounded them.

"For you?"

"Yeah, like–" Chanyeol looked up. Baekhyun could make out the dimple on his cheek. "It'd be boring to play without you. I don't want to lose my rival, you know?"

Baekhyun smiled. He could've kissed Chanyeol again if he wanted to. He did want to. But he had to respect Chanyeol's wishes. Take it slow.

"Alright," he said. "If that's what you want."

"I– Okay. Thank you."

Baekhyun was surprised to find how difficult not kissing Chanyeol was.

Baekhyun watched the finals. He hadn't been so nervous watching a match since he was a child rooting for his favourite tennis players, his idols.

The longer the match dragged on, the less Baekhyun was rooting for the opponent to lose and the more he was rooting for Chanyeol to win. Usually, Baekhyun either didn't care who won, or struggled to choose which party should lose. But this time, he really wanted someone to win. He wanted Chanyeol to win.

And when Chanyeol did win, when he won that excruciatingly long match point, Baekhyun felt happy. Not a hint of resentment or jealousy that Chanyeol got the title he'd wanted. Baekhyun had actually completely forgotten about his goal. It still stung a bit, but it didn't feel like the end of the world anymore.

Baekhyun watched the award ceremony, although he never did that. He sat through the speeches, on the edge of the hotel bed, eyes glued to the screen.

Chanyeol was smiling on the other side, vibrant after his victory. His skin glistened from the sweat, his clothes drenched and wet hair glued to his forehead. Baekhyun sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, worrying it absentmindedly.

"How I feel about winning? Great of course," Chanyeol said, the court and crowd in the background. Then he looked to the side as if he was thinking of something.

"But, honestly, I don't think I would've won if it weren't for someone's support, because– I mean, the opponent, he was amazing."

Chanyeol turned his head and smiled at the runner-up. Baekhyun felt something in his chest flutter.

"I'm just, you know, thankful for having someone who pushes me to be better," Chanyeol continued. Baekhyun's heartbeat was picking up, drumming against his ribcage.

"And I think that's what makes us such great players, yeah? Testing each other's limits and trying to outdo the other every time we step on the court. You can't afford to stagnate in this game."

Both the crowd and Baekhyun were listening to Chanyeol intently. He had a small smile on his red lips and his big eyes were a bit distant. Then, with a chuckle, Chanyeol looked at the camera.

"And I might have been robbed of the chance this time, but next time I'll see you in the finals, Baekhyun," Chanyeol said. Baekhyun's heart dropped at the mention of his name. "Next time, I'm winning against you. Deal?"

Baekhyun felt his lips twitch upwards, and a warm sensation ran through his body. It settled somewhere in his chest.

"You fucking wish," Baekhyun whispered to himself. He got off the bed, thinking how weird the smile on his face felt. It wouldn't go away even though he tried.

After some time and a lot of contemplation, Baekhyun took his phone out and type out a phone number.

He put the speaker to his ear and waited for Chanyeol to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Good match," Baekhyun said. Chanyeol laughed.

"Oh, you watched that?"

"You name dropped me," he replied. "It'd be embarrassing for you if I didn't."

"Right, that." Chanyeol exhaled. "I don't really know what that was. Just got overcome by something."

"It's fine. It was kind of sweet."

Baekhyun couldn't tell him how being publicly invited to a match was probably the hottest thing Chanyeol could have done.

"Not a deal, by the way."

"No?"

Chanyeol almost sounded worried.

"Nah," Baekhyun said. "I'm beating you next time.

The laugh that came from the other line hit Baekhyun in the head and made him feel dizzy. Almost giddy, in a way.

"Right, of course."

Baekhyun leaned on the wall. He was still in his pyjamas, although Junmyeon had asked him to get dressed and packed by… What time was it? Baekhyun checked the clock. Well, he was supposed to be ready by now. He didn't really care much.

"Hey, uh, one other thing."

"Yeah?"

He wanted to ask what that night meant to Chanyeol. It was quite a bother since Baekhyun wasn't sure what to make of it himself. Maybe Chanyeol knew.

"Next time we're close by, would you want to meet at the court and play a few rounds, maybe?"

"I mean, you don't really have to ask. We already do."

Baekhyun sighed. He knew that.

"Yeah, I just wanted it to be, like, official. Whatever."

He could hear that stupid fucking smile on Chanyeol's face when he said, "You asking me on a date?"

"Oh, fuck off."

"Honestly, I'd prefer dinner or movies."

Chanyeol was really annoying. Baekhyun put a hand on his cheek. Why was it making him blush?

"But, yeah, sure. I'd love to play with you."

Baekhyun scoffed. "Okay. Cool."

He could hear noises in the background. Chanyeol sighed and said something incomprehensible to whoever was speaking to him.

"Hey, I have to go right now," he said. Baekhyun frowned. "Something about some sponsors. I don't know. We'll talk soon, okay?

"Yeah, yeah, I won't keep you. Bye."

Baekhyun used to look forward to times when he could stop talking to someone and go back to his game. But now, he sort of hated having to hang up.

"I'll call you! Bye!"

An abrupt click rang through the speaker. Baekhyun dropped his hand and bumped his head on the wall behind him. He couldn't figure out what was going on with him. Something felt wrong. His body was warm, his head light, and his limbs were shaking a bit. Maybe he was coming down with a cold.

Baekhyun looked down at his phone. He breathed in, then opened his contact list. It was empty. He typed Chanyeol's number in and saved it. It felt strange. Baekhyun locked his phone and ignored that he did that.

He pushed himself off the wall. He should probably get dressed and pack up before Junmyeon calls to nag at him again.

A new surge of motivation was budding inside of him, and Baekhyun was intent to use it all up. And it only had a little bit to do with the fact that he'd maybe get to face off Chanyeol in the next tournament.