Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I have loved you;     I have gazed at you [in longing]

I have searched for you;     I have lost you

You have loved me;     you have gazed at me [in longing]

You have broken me;     you have stolen me away

— nakigahara, the gazette

~~~

“You’re being reassigned.”

Baekhyun snorts out a laugh before clearing his throat and adjusting his white coat under Doctor Kim’s watchful, unamused gaze. “Under what conditions?” He says, hoping the somewhat considerate reply would burn away his team leader’s unnerving silence. Baekhyun wasn’t one to test Doctor Kim’s patience given his track record of booting any member of his group of doctors at the slightest misdemeanour. Still, honesty is policy and Baekhyun could not lie and say he cared enough to keep most of himself in line— or all. However, Baekhyun is surprised he lasted this long. 

“You know very well why you’re sitting here in my office, Doctor Byun,” he says pointedly, setting laced fingers on his overflowing desk of files. “We received a report about your activities in the cleaner’s backroom.” A pause comes where Doctor Kim hopes to see some reaction from the man sitting across from him, instead, he receives a dopey smile, no hint of recollection or even a tiny bit of fear of having done anything wrong. He sighs tiredly. “You knew you’d get caught.”

“I mean,” Baekhyun casually waves his hand in the air, “not exactly.” 

Doctor Kim removes his glasses and rubs between his brows. “Baekhyun, I’m serious. It is serious this time.”

“Oh c’mon, Minseok,” he slumps further into his chair, picking at his nails, behaviour too casual and light for someone brought in for breaking a code of conduct. Minseok, out of everyone, knows him better than the rest and none of this is surprising, given it isn’t the first time, nor the last. Were they expecting him to huff and puff away during the long shifts at the hospital with a stethoscope and a close eye on the entrance door? 

Nonetheless, no one had the nerve to strip him of his license. He’s good at his job, far too good to be deemed replaceable. Even more, he had renowned physicist Kim Minseok—who’s also the head of the department—vouching for him time and time again. And maybe he took advantage of that and overlooked the building consequences leading to now.

“You slept with the medical director’s son.” 

Baekhyun flinches, whistling out a pathetic wince. “Oh…”

Minseok hopes at this point he’ll get a show of regret, but yet again, Baekhyun spares a poor excuse of a grimace this time. “That’s all you got to say for yourself?”

“I’m…sorry?” 

With a shake of his head, Minseok gives up and opens up his drawer to pick out a file. “Your apology means nothing when the director has your name on a wanted sign with arrow heads sticking out from it,” placing the file on the table, he looks more serious than ever, Baekhyun has no choice but to straighten his posture—only a little. “Baekhyun, I am at odds here.”

At just the dangerously low tone of finality, the one he only hears when the Doctor is in the middle of an important consultation with patients and other Doctors. Not him , not Baekhyun who he has taken under his wing at the first sign of being gifted during his residency program and sticking by him. “You’re kicking me out?!”

“We’re not kicking you out,” he says, unfazed by Baekhyun’s slow creep into hysteria. “You should be grateful. It’s only a simple relocation.”

“I’m being demoted?!”

“For the love of Jesus, Baekhyun,” Minseok’s cool facade breaks, and Baekhyun gets a picture of the man who has always treated him as if he were a son of his own. “You knew your actions would one day have consequences. Besides, this is temporary.” He opens the file that laid idle through the revelation, scanning through the page and mumbling, “I had to humiliate my status and suggest otherwise to the many complaints about removing you permanently.” He looks at Baekhyun again, eyes unconcealed of his judgement to look through the younger doctor, “I am not taking another fall for your poor decisions. You are an exceptional doctor in your field, but I will do what it takes to keep my department running with both merit and professionalism. You are not excluded from this.”

Left with no choice, Baekhyun loses some of his fight. He trusts the older doctor to have done what he could, and it’s obvious he came from a place of care at the alternative option. “For how long?”

“Two months.”

Baekhyun sprouts up with invigoration, but at Minseok’s raised eyebrow in warning, he seats himself back down. “I guess two months is better than three…right?”

“Whatever gets you on that train,” Minseok says, picking up a pen and signing below the page. He hands it over to Baekhyun, tapping where he needs to sign. He hesitates but eventually puts down his initials in the small box. 

He thought this was it until Minseok held out his hand. Baekhyun looks quizzically at him before looking around his seated chair to find what he may have dropped. 

“Baekhyun,” Minseok pointed at his coat.

Frowning down he sees his nameplate detailing his field of specialty and jumps to cover it, shaking his head rapidly.

“Hand it over, c’mon,” Minseok coaxes as if he’s talking to a scared puppy. Baekhyun keeps shaking his head, eyes wide while Minseok nods in return. “It takes just a pinch and a pull, Baekhyun. You can do it.” 

Pouting all the way through, Baekhyun unpins his license and holds it out shakily toward the older Doctor. “That’s it,” Minseok praises and takes hold of the end but Baekhyun refuses to let go. It takes a harsh pull to free the nameplate, sending Minseok rolling slightly away from his desk. Straightening his coat, he ignores Baekhyun’s puppy eyes knowing he would cave in any moment at the first look into them. He drops the nameplate into one of his drawers, making a show to lock it. “Alright, we’re all done here. Hurry up on out.” 

“Minseok Hyung, you have to convince them to change their mind. I worked hard for this. You can’t replace me.”

Pulling the Hyung card is a low move, but at this point, Baekhyun is desperate, and no shame in the world can take over enough for him to care that he sounds and looks pathetic right now. 

“I’m not,” Minseok says calmly, “you are my team’s best pharmacologist. I chose you for a reason and I don’t plan to give up on you. This is simply a chance to right your wrongs, a… trial if you say so. Keep in line for those two months and you’ll be back at Asan Medical Centre in no time.” He stands and makes his way to Baekhyun who remains hunched over on his chair and lays a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “There’s nothing I can do. I am just another doctor working under another senior. Two months is not a long time.”

“Where am I being shipped off to?” he directs his whimpering gaze to Minseok in a small, lasting attempt to have him crumble. 

Minseok has the urge to knock the younger doctor’s head to get rid of the dramatic sulking, but he remains placative for Baekhyun’s sake, knowing this is a big change in reality for him. “Do you miss home?”

His eyes widen. “No, nope, nuh uh.” Flashes of the small, stuffy village spearhead into his mind, the one suffocating place he fought the hardest to leave behind. 

“You’re going home, Baekhyun.”

~

Damyang is a moderately sized town on the outskirts of Seoul about a four-hour train travelling time from the city centre. It started as a village in the early years of its development before growing exponentially which led to the citizens and average people calling it a town now and again. This was thanks to the village’s abundant growth of bamboo beams around its surrounding area and a generous amount of strawberry bushes becoming a quick hub for ongoing bamboo products and strawberries. Tourism peaked and flooded the town during spring and summer for the specially created bamboo festival, to tour the bamboo forest and the theme park, and try the strawberries grown locally. 

Baekhyun can attest to the good strawberries—the only thing he misses from moving to live in Seoul. On the other hand, the tourist attractions are located further out from the neighbourhoods, a purposeful decision to remove witness to the village people and their average to indigent locals who are overworked and underpaid. Baekhyun wanted nothing more than to live away from such a reality, even if it meant giving up what he called home since he came into this world.

Coming back is a stark reminder of why he left in the first place. Everything good and bad, real and raw about himself lived behind these long green beams. He forgot what started the urge to flee. 

“It’s just two months, Baekhyun. You’ll live.”

Watching the train tunnel through Damyang, spotting houses and the inevitable bamboo shoots reaching high enough for him to lose sight of it, Baekhyun hums tiredly into the phone call. He barely slept the night before, tossing and turning, wondering if he should quit entirely and live as a rat in the sewage channels of Seoul. The call with his parents didn’t help either. As happy they were to have him back, he could make out his mother’s tone of concern. He’s not ready to face that ever. 

“Wallowing away is pathetic for someone like you and you know it.”

A ghost of a smile appears on his face, Junmyeon is yet to fail in making him feel better. “I can’t help it. How did this happen? I’m a senior in my field and now I’m being shipped off for a misdemeanour. What am I? A freshling in residency?”

“Do I really have to answer?” Junmyeon says, “Need I remind you, it was your actions that brought upon your demise. How did this happen, you ask? Look in the mirror!”

“You’re an ass,” Baekhyun groans, almost stomping his feet childishly but the train is full and he has some decency to keep his act together.

“Don’t forget it,” his friend says. “I have my daily rounds to do. Stay out of trouble until then.”

The train comes to a stop and Baekhyun steps out onto the platform, finding a familiar face in the crowd. His father waves at him, and Baekhyun pretends his suitcase requires the effort of two hands. His father makes nothing of it. 

“Your mother already started on lunch,” he says, reaching for his son’s luggage. For a second, Baekhyun hesitates to let go but relents after deciding he would rather not deal with conflicting feelings when he’s this haggard from travelling.

Offering a nod in acknowledgement, he pulls out his phone, switching between apps to avoid any more talk he doesn’t have the care for. The service is bad in the village and he likely looks like a fool by playing busy when nothing works on his phone. Then again, his father seems to not notice or chooses to give Baekhyun his space since there’s no further attempt at talking from his side. 

The walk home is short considering their house is situated behind the railway station—one of the reasons he hates being here. The noise pollution is especially bad in the street they live in from the train’s offboarding and onboarding racket. Crinkling his nose, even in September the smell of the grassy fields strikes close to the peak of summer. 

Arriving home, Baekhyun is embraced by his mother by the doorway. She looks the same as she did when he last visited, except for the noticeable touch of age in the wrinkles covering her forehead and beside her smile. However, it’s the crinkles beside her eyes that make him frown, he didn’t like how close to home the feature strikes him, and he’s reminded he’s very far from the city, standing under a small sky, a small home, a small space of him which made up his entire life. There’s nowhere to escape.

His mother doesn’t let go of him as she pulls him into the kitchen where he spots something cooking atop the stove. She gestures for her husband to put away the suitcase upstairs, which he obliges without much heed. Baekhyun barely glanced at him during the walk and didn’t plan on doing so now either, despite how he looked unappreciative of the fact his father carried his heavy luggage all the way from the train station.

Which is why it isn’t unexpected he receives a pointed look from his mother.

“What?”

“You need to give your father a break, Baekhyunie,” she says, resuming her work on preparing lunch. Baekhyun shrugs nonchalantly, picking up a shredded carrot string and chewing on it. His mother shakes her head, pulling the board of cut vegetables from his grip, earning an affronted look from Baekhyun. “You haven’t changed since the last time we saw you.”

“I was here for the summer,” he replies matter-of-factly. 

“Summer of last year,” his mother points out. “You only ever visit for the summer and sometimes skip Christmas and the holidays. There’s a lot that can change between those months, I expect.”

Baekhyun feels slightly annoyed at the soft reprimanding, he knows his mother is the one person who always means well but he isn’t ready for a lecture—or ever. “You have too high hopes for me.”

“And what’s wrong with hoping for the best for you?” She covers the pot she was stirring with a lid, turning to Baekhyun who casually leans against one of the cupboards. “I am your mom after all.”

“As my mom you should also accept I am who I am.” He knew he went too far, but he wasn’t good with his impulses to begin with. He hated it more when people told him what to do, or if they thought he needed to change because his current self wasn’t worth the time to uncover. Judgement is easy when what is seen is all they care about. Baekhyun couldn’t bring himself to hold people in his life when assumptions exist as easily as people themselves exist. 

He wasn't going to give anyone a reason to use a piece of himself against him. 

Family is no exception, especially when he hoped his parents would trust him before anyone else. However, his father thought it a good idea to play the immature card when he opened up about living in the city to attend SNU medical school.

“Okay, enough, Baekhyun,” his mother sighs. She walks closer to him, taking his hand in hers while Baekhyun awkwardly shifts on his feet from the open affection. “We’re your family, your only family, and you’re our only son. I know your dad was unreasonable when you left for med school, and a lot after that too, but he’s been trying. We both are. He really regrets how he handled things with you,” she brushes away Baekhyun’s hair from his face, smiling. “We miss you. Let’s meet each other halfway?” 

She looks too sincere for Baekhyun to have it in his heart to say otherwise. He nods, subtly pulling his hand away to shove in his coat pockets. The avoidance doesn’t bother her since she beams at Baekhyun’s positive answer. 

Returning to the stove, she uncovers the pot and pours in the cut vegetables. “Now, tell me. Why are you back here? I know you’re not here by choice so don’t even try it.”

He isn’t going to tell her the truth about why he’s reassigned to some shoebox clinic. Instead, he mumbles out, “I don’t feel up to talking about it.”

“Did you lose your job?”

“No!” Baekhyun shouts, clearing his throat of the initial panic. “Of course not. They wouldn’t kick me out this easily, I’m the best my team has.” His mum gives an unamused look at the unashamed self praise causing Baekhyun to backtrack. “Kind of the best…” she doesn’t budge. “It’s the truth!”

“I don’t remember raising you to be this self-centred, Baekhyunie.” She tsks.

“Really, mom?” Baekhyun says, “Because I claimed a title I worked hard to be recognised for?”

“I don’t care about that,” she counters, “I’m talking about choosing to lean on your ego to cover up your real feelings. Let me be the one to be proud of you as my son, not you yourself, okay?”

He puffs out a breath of air in quiet exasperation. This is going to be a long two months.

~

Standing outside the property, Baekhyun takes in the humble peach and blue walls of the clinic, washed down over time through heavy downpours to reveal the brick layers beneath like an aged old house crossing through the last of its lifespan. The clinic’s humble plaque reading Damyang Clinic is chipping along the edges of metal. Is everything beneath at war to take over?

Sighing, Baekhyun walks in through the door—confusing the pull with a push to enter. Behind the counter sits a young man with a straight face, typing away on a desktop looking to be from the early 2000’s given the square bulky screen, 

“We don’t open until 7,” the man automatically informs monotonously while typing, “if you could kindly—”

“I’m here to fill the PA role for the Doctor in charge?” Baekhyun clarifies.

The man finally looks up, taking in Baekhyun in all his glory with a tick in his eyebrow for a bland reaction, and Baekhyun has never felt more offended. “You’re Byun Baekhyun?”

“Yes…” He answers quizzically. “And you are…?”

“Oh Sehun,” the man says, “So you’re the doctor from that big shot hospital in Seoul,” he reclines on his chair and narrows his eyes, digging into Baekhyun’s form like he’s examining a slide through a microscope.

Baekhyun shifts on his feet. He doesn’t need to confirm said claim from the way Sehun phrases his words, and if Baekhyun wants to pay mind to it he can sense the hostility.

Sehun then snaps out of his scrutinising and gives a broad smile. Baekhyun can tell is more for his job than anything friendly, “Well, if you could make your way to the back, you’ll find Doctor Jeong in her office.”

Making his way around the counter to the door leading to the rest of the clinic, Baekhyun keeps his eyes on the receptionist. In response, the man ushers him to go on with a wave and the same mechanically drawn smile. 

Brushing away the weird interaction with the receptionist, the door closes behind him and he walks down the hallway to the back where a nameplate on the polished wood reads Doctor Jeong Haeun. 

Reaching for the door handle, he barely grazes the knob before the door swings open and a tall man steps out. Baekhyun stares at the poorly embroidered poodle on the shirt pocket, not a poodle, close to one, Baekhyun can tell it isn’t much of a poodle from the familiar drive of knowledge hurtling toward him.

“It’s a Maltipoo.”

“I still don’t get why you want that specific breed.”

“I think they look a little like you.”

“And that’s the only motivation you want one?”

“It’s one of them.”

Baekhyun does not want to divert his gaze from the cream-coloured dog on the white shirt. He wonders what he’ll see first if he catches their eyes. There wasn’t much left to the imagination when the options all boiled down to his last memory before he left completely. He prepares to be struck down by a stare made from lightning, but he meets wide eyes showing mild surprise before it mellows to a smile. Something is missing but Baekhyun doesn’t care to think.

“Baekhyun, you’re here.”

Blinking in confusion, Baekhyun’s mouth is left agape with the ghost of his reply. Yes, he’s here, alive and receiving an ungodly smile from his ex Park Chanyeol all the same. Do you hear it? Heaven’s choir behind a tall man with a deep voice and wavy hair offering a peacekeeping dimpled smile. Could this be the turning point in your miserable life? 

The angels sing in a circle around Park Chanyeol before they pop one by one when he hears his name through the open door gap.

“Byun Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun snaps out of his stupor, catching a woman sitting behind a desk as Chanyeol moves out of the way with a bow. He switches between watching Chanyeol leave and entering the room simultaneously. “Ah…” his ex disappears behind a door, only then does he face forward, meeting the unamused eyes of the Doctor in charge. He clears his throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

She gestures for the chair in front of her desk. Baekhyun takes a seat at the same time she types on her computer. “Let’s see what we have here,” clicking away on her keyboard, she comes to a stop and starts reading. “Doctor Byun Baekhyun. Field of speciality: clinical pharmacology,” giving Baekhyun a minute to confirm she’s right, then continues to skim through his resume. 

“Exceptional results in medical school, first to achieve his license within four years during residency, Senior Physicist, Doctor Kim Minseok personally requested you to be in his department team of professional doctors, and,” she picks up a random paper from the desk absentmindedly, “he has given a recommendation letter on your behalf as well,” she returns the letter to her desk, “no less, you have achieved an award for coordinating and presenting a research project titled Advancing the Next Scientific Revolution in Toxicology at SK’s yearly Leading Medical Science Expo of the 21st century in 2022.” Giving Baekhyun her focus, Baekhyun feels like a child under timeout. “The question remains so, what are you doing in this part of the world, Doctor Byun?”

“Is it not mentioned in the letter?” He questions lamely. However, he silently thanks Minseok Hyung for not detailing the reason for his reassignment. He has an image to keep in relation to his name.

Doctor Jeong purses her lined lips, her patience is running thin. “I wouldn’t be asking if it was.”

“Right,” Baekhyun tries to wrack his brain for any explanation to save himself without garnering any suspicion. “I needed a fresh start?”

“You don’t sound very sure about that,” she says.

“Because I’m not,” he chooses to build on her suspicion and fabricate a story, typically one every city and village person may face. “It was a moment’s decision. I wanted to spend more time with my family in the village. I’ve been in the city for over a decade. It was about time.” 

Doctor Jeong stares him down while Baekhyun gives one of his charming smiles. Eventually, she moves on. “Your fresh start is going to start blandly, I’m afraid. We hold consultations, off-the-counter medicine, treatment, advisory consults, the general,” she informs. “I am a qualified doctor, no doubt, but there’s a reason many leave the village for the city. The population is scarce of young adults, you’ll be seeing plenty of kids and the elderly. For the most part, you will be bored, unless someone breaks a bone or gets pregnant. Even then, they are taken to city hospitals. You will assist alongside me wherever necessary. Try not to scratch my walls to claw your way out from my humble practice.”

Baekhyun nods numbly, wondering how he ended up in this poor excuse of a healthcare centre. 

“Better to get used to it fast.” she gestures for the door. “If you have any further questions, Park Chanyeol will help you. He pretty much knows the insides and outs of this clinic more than anyone.”

Freezing the moment he lifted himself from his seat, “Park Chanyeol…” He mumbles, and he can’t tell if it’s his soul leaving his body is a good thing or not. Moreover, he can’t believe the timing of his initial surprise of seeing his ex now turning into realisation. It took a third party saying his name for his brain to short-circuit, one more mention of that name will have him reaching a vegetative state. 

“Yes,” she takes his reaction as a sign of confusion and not Baekhyun potentially on the brink of collapsing. “The person you just bumped into outside my office. Now, if you will,” a finger points directly to the door. “I have to prepare for my upcoming schedule.”

He didn’t want to leave the office, knowing his next stop is at the opposite end of the hallway. Nonetheless, he stands outside the door where he last saw Chanyeol disappear into, knocking twice impulsively. It’s better to get it over with than prolonging what will happen eventually. They can’t avoid each other in this tiny clinic. 

It seems Baekhyun is the one with most of the uneasiness. The door opens, and Chanyeol smiles down at him, and Baekhyun simply stares, wondering what is true or false or if there is a place to read into things. Is it friendliness with character after moving forward, or friendliness with indifference because Baekhyun is just another person to him? What is the worst?

“Baekhyun, what can I do for you?” He says, walking back to his desk while Baekhyun reluctantly steps in as if he’s entering a floor made of burning coal.

“Doctor Jeong said if I needed anything,” he shrugs, avoiding the eyes staring into him, “to ask you.”

“Well, is there anything you need?” Baekhyun parts his lips to answer, but Chanyeol comes to a realisation with a small ‘oh.’ He wheels his chair to the corner of the room near a tall row of drawers, “I almost forgot. Here,” he holds out a folded white coat, “it might be a bit dusty but nothing a good wash can’t fix.”

Taking his new attire, Baekhyun thanks him softly. 

“The size wouldn’t be perfect. Could be longer on your frame, but a smaller size would not fit,” he reaches a hand across to tap his index on Baekhyun’s right shoulder, causing the smaller man to turn rigid. “You’ve gotten broader.” 

“Great,” Baekhyun says in a tiny voice. He shakes off the weird reclusiveness, this isn’t part of him and he’s not about to lose control upon a mere revisit into his past as soon as he arrives back home. If Chanyeol remains unaffected, they can put this behind them. 

The reaction he received was nothing like he imagined, since he bears no mark on his cheek from a punch or a screaming fest, emotions between them right now are timid on his side and grey on Chanyeol’s side. This is as close to closure as he’s going to get; Chanyeol is doing fine, holds no animosity, things can stay as they are and take anew in whatever shape the future decides for him. It’s not like he’s still in love. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Chanyeol is back behind his desk, holding a pen between his fingers. “I’ve worked here for a long time.”

“Why aren’t you working in the city?” He questions, feeling bolder after convincing himself this is their road to becoming civil. As civil as one can get with a man you spent five years together with. “I figured you would be in Seoul.”

“I changed my mind.” Chanyeol averts his eyes.

“You loved your classes at school,” Baekhyun says, “you loved the idea of becoming a doctor.”

“Not everything we love stays for life, does it?” 

The response leaves Baekhyun perplexed. Something lives beneath his words, something Baekhyun cannot pinpoint, snowflakes dropping on his skin, seconds to feel the burn, and the feeling disappears, becoming part of the cold. Thoughtlessly, he stands under flurries of snow as it rubs his skin raw. Chanyeol is warm, he is warm, Baekhyun concludes as he picks away the snowflakes. It’s supposed to hurt. Even when all is numb, it turns bloodless and blue. It’s supposed to hurt, Baekhyun reminds himself. Part of being over is the sting accompanying every reminder.

“I’ve heard about you and how you’re doing,” Chanyeol says, bringing Baekhyun back to focus. 

“You have?” 

“I handle the hiring and training of new staff. Administration.” He explains, and Baekhyun doesn’t offer a reaction as Chanyeol holds his gaze with transfixed intensity where once it would flicker across his face as if he took any chance to see Baekhyun, to look at his face and remember the details for a longstanding memory. “You’ve done well for yourself, Baekhyun. You must be proud.” 

He doesn’t want to remember. 

“I guess,” Baekhyun says.

“You should be,” Chanyeol smiles. “I hope you won’t find this little clinic too far from home.” 

And Baekhyun realises what’s missing from the times he’s seen Chanyeol smile. There are no crinkles. None beside his eyes.

~

Days at Damyang Clinic fall into a mechanical routine at best, mundane for a better word. Baekhyun plods through the six-hour shift from morning to evening by assisting Doctor Jeong where he can, his efforts is guiding each person to and from Doctor Jeong’s office, prepping the patients in the examination room, offering a change of clothes if necessary, adjusting the hospital bed, double checking what needs to be added to the tools tray, carrying messages to Sehun for prescriptions, and the dreadful visits to Park Chanyeol’s workroom for inquiries. 

Given the clinic does not have a good amount of staff or an average well functioning hierarchy, Baekhyun discovers Chanyeol handles about twenty jobs with bizarre efficiency. He keeps records of stock, management, shift schedules, tracking patient visits, the flow of money, and other miscellaneous tasks fading behind Baekhyun’s mind. The only verdict he cares to pay attention to is Chanyeol’s multitasking ability which is starting to shift from unconscious amazement to something troubling.

Aside from Chanyeol’s work skills, Baekhyun is left with an additional piece of observation (read: spying) on his ex, which is the one thing holding his attention for a second longer. 

Doctor Jeong sends him off with a report for Chanyeol. He knocks on the administrator’s door, but unlike the last time, the door remains closed. Baekhyun takes a peek inside to find it empty. Frowning, he makes his way to the front desk. Sehun seems to spend the most time with Chanyeol outside of work hours and sometimes during. He does find Chanyeol out front, except he isn’t with Sehun but with a family who sits in the waiting area connected to the receptionist's desk. 

He holds back from calling out to Chanyeol as he watches the man crouch to the ground, offering a smile far from the ones Baekhyun is accustomed to seeing on the receiving end. A small hand touches Chanyeol’s hair, poking at his cheek where his dimple sits a constant amongst the many stars putting Chanyeol together. Baekhyun is too far away to make out the words exchanged between him and the little girl, but after a minute she goes to give a hug. Chanyeol gives an exaggerated ‘oof’ that falls into a laugh, and there it is. The crinkles beside his eyes, a full blooming smile, one Baekhyun was in love with, one he was subjected to the most. There was a point in time when he called it his own.

When Chanyeol stands with the little girl in his arms, picking up a conversation with the parents, Baekhyun turns to leave and decides to wait inside Chanyeol’s office. The room feels smaller than he remembers it to be, and it’s likely because he spent his time looking at the raven haired man rather than wandering over the rest of the space. Without much effort, he’s stuck in an endless loop of Chanyeol and it hasn’t even passed 48 hours of working at the clinic. 

This is the thing he tried to escape from, the drawn gravity tugging him to the centre of the universe, waves the calmest, the sea the deepest, floating above the surface as he feels himself being carried away against all rationality. He hated the feeling of losing control, and he hated it more when he found himself believing it to be natural. Take all of him, willingly so, why is it terrifying? Questions left unanswered, he threw all of it away back then, and now again.

Baekhyun decides what gets to touch him, what gets to keep him, and Park Chanyeol is far from home.

“Baekhyun, I didn’t see you there,” Chanyeol walks in, arms free of a little girl, but he now adorns a beaded wrist chain with mismatched colours and a heart pendant dangling from the middle. Baekhyun couldn’t tear his eyes away from the chain even as Chanyeol sat in front of him behind his desk.

“You’re still good with kids.” He registered what he said after impulsively voicing his thoughts. He should be embarrassed, and a part of him is, but as if a treasure chest had been unlocked. Baekhyun dusts off each memory of kids being drawn to Chanyeol, how they would approach and address only him despite Baekhyun standing beside him, and how they prepared for a random tiny person popping up while having one of their dates at the park after a long day at med school. 

Chanyeol would sometimes direct the attention to Baekhyun because he was kind enough not to leave Baekhyun feeling left alone, Chanyeol would say ‘This is my boyfriend,’ and Chanyeol would answer curious questions so patiently where they always end with ‘Baekhyun is someone I don’t see myself doing anything without, that’s why we’re together even if we’re both boys.’

“Do you need something?”

Baekhyun falls back to the present, slightly winded, a confused stirring in his chest. Mechanically, he hands over the report. “I came as a delivery man. Again.” Chanyeol takes the patient folder, opens a drawer and slides it between a stack of files categorised alphabetically. “Do they all like you?” he finds himself asking. Chanyeol offers a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

“The village kids,” Baekhyun clarifies and adds, “the village people.”

Chanyeol shrugs, “I haven’t met all of them.”

It’s a dismissive answer which indirectly means Baekhyun should stop manoeuvring through places he’s not welcomed in, but he’s never one to be shut down quickly. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Do I?” Chanyeol huffs a tired sigh. “Baekhyun, you’re prodding in things that don't concern you. I thought this habit of yours would long be dusted off.” He mutters the last of his words, however, Baekhyun catches them. 

“What habit?”

“Not knowing when to give up.” 

Baekhyun is left a little stumped, he thinks he is more of the opposite given his track record of abandoning things the moment they dig through him down to his chest.

“It’s confusing because you don’t ever stay long enough to have such a stubborn quality,” Chanyeol says, turning to his PC after a second glance toward Baekhyun. It’s obvious he’s trying to avoid looking at Baekhyun judging by the fact the monitor reads nothing important for Chanyeol to be engrossed in.

“That’s not fair. I’m just trying to make conversation.” Baekhyun says in an act of defence, a poor one, but he isn’t known to handle things maturely. A trait belonging most to Chanyeol in their once-paired dynamic.

“We’re past that,” Chanyeol says, an edge to his voice, one Baekhyun is starting to become familiar with after being under its icicle wind twice. “We’re past a lot of things. I’d prefer if we pretend nothing happened and get on with our day. You’re here only for two months.”

“I know we’re over, okay?” He snaps, and it brings Chanyeol’s attention to him. Baekhyun clears his throat to brush down the flare of emotion he isn’t supposed to show, not even a trace of it to anyone let alone his ex, who also just made it perfectly clear he wants nothing to do with Baekhyun. “I know you want nothing to do with me. I am leaving, eventually. But I think we can at least be…friends?” he offers pathetically. By now, Chanyeol’s surprise has turned to a blank stare, making Baekhyun's temple sweat, “Acquaintances?” he suggests to the immovable statue, “Enemies…?”

“You really believe we can put all of this aside and be anything but exes?” Chanyeol questions and Baekhyun can hear how he doesn’t believe they can truly be anything but a closed chapter.

“It’s been a decade,” Baekhyun nods, “we can be mature about it.”

“Mature,” Chanyeol nods mockingly, “oh yes, we sure can. After that, we can definitely be mature .”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun heeds gently. He knows the mocking is meant for him after how he handled things back then, and he accepts the brandishing reaction because it comes from a place of hurt from Chanyeol’s side. “I can do this much.” He feels he’s in a day past ten years ago, working through one of their nights where, for a change, Chanyeol hides behind a mask, refusing to admit he needs someone when school and everything in between gets too much. He wasn't the one to comfort when Chanyeol took upon that role without asking because he always did care enough to forget he needed the same.

Something Chanyeol sees in Baekhyun must’ve done the trick, whatever it is Baekhyun can’t tell, but Chanyeol reluctantly waves a hand nonchalantly. “Fine. Let’s see where this ‘friendship’ takes us.”

~

A considerable lift in Baekhyun's mood accompanies him as he walks in through the doors of Damyang clinic. He's not one to point out the specifics, however, acknowledging the lightness in his steps and the ghost of a smile on his face is a hopeful start for the day and he digs no further into his brain.

Sehun gives him a weird look at the exaggerated spring in his stance when he makes his way to the back. Baekhyun makes nothing of it and chirps, “Good morning!” to which the receptionist turns bewildered. Baekhyun is known as the gloomy cloud at the clinic, huffing and puffing his way around, an obvious statement of how he didn't want to be here. 

Patients tend to avoid approaching him, the elderly bless him on the head and say he needs to smile more, and kids hide behind their parents when they see him beside Doctor Jeong. He is far from welcoming. Barely a week in and he's already established a token identity which says everything about him and the likes of working in such a dismal place. 

Today is different. Sehun notices and continues to stare at him as he skips down the hall. Doctor Jeong raises an eyebrow at his grand entrance with a smiling greeting and offers to prep the examination room without further instructions or idly stands like a robot until given direct orders. 

Baekhyun turns to leave Doctor Jeong's office, makes his exit, and collides with a sturdy chest. A warm, sticky latte spills onto his white coat, and Baekhyun feels like he dropped straight from heaven onto the ground, sinking into the earth to form a crater. He's in his grave as he watches Chanyeol apologise, hands dusting his coat.

What is that going to do? Baekhyun wanted to say, or shout. Instead, he sighs, shovelling through his plummeted mood. “Forget it,” he dismisses. He's lucky the latte is warm, and his skin is saved from mild burns.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Chanyeol says earnestly, in a deep voice, a soft breeze swirling and inviting in Baekhyun’s mind. 

He shakes his head, both to deny Chanyeol and to smother away the flutters overtaking his stomach. Taking a step back to create space between them, Baekhyun replies coolly. “Nothing, I got it covered. Was the…” he gestures vaguely to the spilt latte on the floor, “for Doctor Jeong?”

“No,” he bends down to pick up the coffee cups, “they were for you.” Sighing, Chanyeol hesitates to get his words out. “I wasn’t very nice to you yesterday.”

It isn’t what he expected to hear. His reaction is instinctive, and he finds himself reaching to help. He barely makes a move to reach down when Chanyeol stops him.

“Don’t help me,” he says without looking at Baekhyun, picking up the remaining coffee cup, and only then lifts his gaze. “I can take care of this on my own. You, on the other hand, need to take care of that,” he points to the large coffee stain on the front of his coat. 

Seeing no other option, Baekhyun lets Chanyeol be. 

The bathroom is a one-size cubicle located near the examination room. Shrugging off his coat, he tries to lather and scrub the coffee stain using soap to no such luck. Gripping the edge of the sink, Baekhyun stares into his reflection, he cannot afford any room for digging beneath the surface. Yet, he can't seem to pinpoint why he can't stop thinking about Chanyeol. 

Somewhere in Chanyeol's strict effort to move on, firm and friendly, it comes too easy to him. 

“Don't help me.”

Baekhyun scoffs. Chanyeol didn't hold back when it came to his feelings; he made his stance clear from the start. He shouldn't be confused now, and he shouldn't feel the pressure in his chest cave within himself over a simple sentence. Then again, it was his instinct to reach for Chanyeol, and it was Chanyeol’s instinct to know he would, and he chose—with every consciousness in him—to reject Baekhyun. 

He wouldn't let Baekhyun close to him…over a coffee cup? 

Rolling his eyes, Baekhyun needs to get a grip on himself. He's mulling over things no longer concerning him. His ex rejected his help, big deal.  

The limited options in the clinic's bathroom mean his coat isn't salvageable. He'll have to take it home and use something stronger. 

Doctor Jeong is in the examination room with an elderly patient as he enters. She gives him a questioning look over the brown stain on his uniform and Baekhyun shrugs. “Accident.” He says. 

She moves on quickly, focusing back on her patient while Baekhyun takes his place beside her. He smiles at the elderly woman, but given his preoccupied mind, he’s sure it looks more like a grimace, so he expects the unwelcoming frown he receives in return. He stops trying after.

~

To prevent the universe from taking a hit on him again, Baekhyun keeps his emotions neutralised. He shouldn't be soaring through the skies at any point of contact with someone like Chanyeol. However, he's faced with a completely different problem at hand. 

Chanyeol has circled back to being a tangled web of mystery from the first day through his elaborate display of friendship. Baekhyun thought he’d have to wheedle through varying acts of awkwardness between them, but Chanyeol handled it masterfully, leaving Baekhyun stranded on a beach far too sunny and the horizon far too blue. 

Staring up at the tall figure in the break room, Baekhyun looks between the container in Chanyeol’s hands to his face. “You…made me lunch?”

“I did,” Chanyeol answers plainly as if it’s something he does every day.

Unwilling to take the food, he gives Chanyeol a questioning raise of his eyebrow. “You took the time to make me lunch,” Baekhyun says, “me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “If I have leftovers, I pack the extra to work for anyone who wants. Sehun is not a fan of bulgogi—he’s vegetarian. Doctor Jeong is my senior, homemade meals are a no unless we all go out to eat.”

“If I wasn’t here, who would you give this to?” Baekhyun is strikingly giving away his suspicion despite Chanyeol’s reasonable explanation. However, it was just the other day when Chanyeol painted a black canvas showing his life to be empty and void of Baekhyun, a choice he wanted and denied Baekhyun’s attempt at holding a new space to overcome what was. 

Friendship is the easiest to suggest, but Baekhyun isn’t clueless to the lengths it will take to get there. A standard time of 24 hours is something Baekhyun’s stupidity would have wished for, and yet here they are.

“The patients,” he shrugs, holding out the container closer to the brunet.

Reluctantly, Baekhyun offhands Chanyeol of the container, finding it warm as well, having been reheated before making its way to him. Nothing more is said, Chanyeol walks away without a backwards glance, Baekhyun watches him return back to his place by Sehun. The receptionist gives Chanyeol a shake of his head and a few words, and Chanyeol says something that brings Sehun to laugh. Baekhyun clutches the container tighter at the hint of a smile he sees on his ex.

The peculiar generosity never ceases as they enter the mild days of working. Baekhyun sees a box of strawberries on his desk, freshly plucked and washed judging from their size and the droplets of water sprinkled on their skin. He remembers Chanyeol’s grandparents having strawberry bushes in their backyard, one they had for generations. 

Every spring Baekhyun received a basket of them with Chanyeol as the special delivery man. Only later, when Baekhyun stopped by during early summer did he find out Chanyeol made those baskets from bamboo sticks he collected and spent the night before threading until morning. 

Taking a bite out of one strawberry, Baekhyun munches loudly, a taste different to what he knew but welcoming nonetheless. 

“How do you like it?” Chanyeol asks from across the break room. 

Baekhyun swallows and looks curiously at the strawberry in his hand. “They’re much more sour than I remembered. I like it.”

Something flashes across Chanyeol’s eyes, his expression tightening like veils of clouds over the moon's glow. “You like strawberries sour?” 

To anyone else, it can be overlooked, but to Baekhyun, he feels the sky stretch an extra mile between them. “I don’t have an opinion on it. I like strawberries. Lately, I’ve been into averagely ripe ones. The city gets them that way. I guess I got used to it.”

“What about the bulgogi?” Chanyeol is offering one of his unfiltered stares, allowing himself to lay eyes on Baekhyun with no sense of consideration to add a blink or a flicker.

“Spicy,” Baekhyun says, almost unsure if he should be honest.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I love spicy.”

Chanyeol keeps his gaze on Baekhyun. Any longer, Baekhyun will feel the tangible shift in the air as brown eyes sink beneath his skin like an anchor plunging to the depths of the ocean; suspended in time, suspended in motion, it's not up to him to find the surface. “You used to order mild whenever you had the chance,” Chanyeol points out. “Let me guess, you're not a fan of lattes.”

He thinks of lying on impulse. They're having a general conversation, Baekhyun’s interests change, and Chanyeol is curious—as far as Baekhyun reads his intention. Then again, does something this casual require Chanyeol’s fixed attention?

“Black coffee keeps me awake,” Baekhyun turns to reason. “Shifts are long in Asan.” 

He finally looks away, picking at his food uselessly. “The city…” His voice drops, giving up the need to say anything further. It isn't needed, not when Baekhyun has lived in the city more than he has in Damyang, his hometown.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun mumbles to himself. “the city…”

~

Baekhyun finds out it’s one of the village kids who is responsible for the little sewn embellishments on Chanyeol’s shirt pockets. Most of the time it’s a puppy, other times it’s cartoonish characters Baekhyun can’t pinpoint, however, he recognised one to be Pucca. Today Chanyeol accepts his shirt from an eight-year-old boy who delivered it in a star-covered paper bag. It’s easy to assume Chanyeol allowed the boy to take his shirt home and then return it, a blindly trustworthy action considering there’s a possibility it might not come back. But this is Baekhyun’s idea, he knows he’s more guarded than the rest— than Chanyeol. 

In Chanyeol’s head, the idea is simply ‘it’s going to make them happy’ which is enough for him.

“How long are you going to keep staring?”

Blinking, he turns to Sehun who sits behind his desk, a pointed look on his face, he definitely caught Baekhyun daydreaming over his ex. “There’s a line of patients waiting, Doctor Byun. Hurry on up.”

Claiming a room full of three people max (excluding the little boy and his guardian talking to Chanyeol) is a bit of an over-exaggeration. Baekhyun doesn’t point it out, he’d rather keep a window open for a good impression on Sehun if the man is close to Chanyeol—wait what? 

Ignoring his duty to call upon the next patient, Baekhyun gives Sehun a cordial smile in hopes of appearing more friendly and scoring his luck in gaining some form of opinion on what Chanyeol is like today. “How long have you known Chanyeol?”

“Straight to the point?” Sehun says in a dry tone, one Baekhyun is starting to tie to the receptionist as simply his voice. 

“I’m just curious,” Baekhyun raises his hands in defence, the clipboard he holds bumps his cheek and he’s reminded he’s on a time limit. Dawdling for too long will cause trouble. 

“He said you might ask questions.” He’s unimpressed as if Baekhyun is predictable, the kind that’s sure to be annoying. “You’d try to worm your way through things, disguise it as ‘curious’ and ‘friendly,’” Sehun air quotes, “but it’s actually because you can never mind your own business.”

To say he’s dumbstruck would be an understatement. In all of this, his brain comes to one single connection. “He said all of this?”

“I want to lie and I would if it didn’t concern someone like Chanyeol,” he answers. For a moment, Baekhyun believes the frustration he hears in Sehun is a trick until he doesn’t. When Sehun speaks again it’s evident he’s been holding back this whole time. “He only said you’d try to talk, and I could judge how to respond. That’s the problem with Chanyeol—he doesn’t push, he doesn’t demand, even when he should. You probably knew that already,” he says accusingly. “Here’s the thing Baekhyun. Chanyeol hasn’t said anything about what happened between you two. But ever since you arrived at Damyang he’s been lost in ways I can’t understand, and I thought I knew him inside out. I have no means to talk to you unless you have a handwritten apology counting 10,000 words to deliver to someone.”

“I don’t,” Baekhyun answers stupidly, he didn’t expect the turnout to be like this. He expected some hostility, but this goes a little deeper than he was ready for. Chanyeol appearing lost? He gives no impression of this, if anything he looks to be more fine than Baekhyun in how they deal with being in the same space as each other. He’s left with more thoughts swirling in his mind, confusing him with a beckoning grin as the edge of a flat metal draws over his ego, each scrape pushing a throb in his chest. “But what if I said I’m…working on it?”

“I hope you mean you’re giving him closure to move on,” Sehun holds no place for otherwise. “He deserves that, doesn’t he?” 

With his insides chipping away, Baekhyun nods. Of course, he agrees, he has to.

“Glad we are on the same page,” he turns back to his computer screen, uncaring to the end as if he didn’t knock Baekhyun down a peg or two through their five-minute conversation. “You just upped your likeability score, Byun Baekhyun. Congratulations.”

He didn’t feel any comfort in it.

~

“How was your week at the clinic?” 

Baekhyun draws out a sigh from the lounge sofa, his mother sits across from him cutting a bowl of fruit as dessert after their lunch. Hearing his sigh, the older woman glances up from the apple in her hand, regarding him in a way that makes Baekhyun shudder. He’s far from accepting care in any form at this point in his life.

“Are you having trouble settling in?” She questions, abandoning her fruit bowl, her attention on her son. “It must be quite different from the hospital in Seoul.”

No doubt it is, Baekhyun shoves the urge to respond with such an attitude. “There’s no trouble. I’m settling in fine. People there are…nice.”

His mother doesn’t seem convinced, but if there’s anything he’s grateful for about her, it's her ability not to push Baekhyun. Picking up her bowl from the coffee table, she offers Baekhyun a sliced pear and jabs a finger in the general direction of the front door. “Go out. You haven’t seen the village since you arrived.”

An idea he would consider if he cared. His plan for the weekend remained simple: sleep and eat (with the unavoidable bits of a certain tall man washing over his thoughts like a paintbrush dipped in watercolours as it adds a blush of faded swirls to the bigger picture). Details shouldn’t matter, not in Baekhyun, it’s always himself, his own emotions, his own ambitions, his effort to mould the world to his liking. There’s no space for distractions or details that cause a fixation to bring questions which don’t concern himself. 

“I’m actually gonna go back to bed for a nap,” Baekhyun says, thumbing at the pear in his hand. 

“I think we’re out of vegetables,” his mother says offhandedly. Baekhyun watches her feign a thoughtful look. “And milk. I was thinking of making tteokguk with vegetable dumplings. Would you be a dear and go to the market for me?”

“Mom,” Baekhyun deadpans, fully aware of her attempt to herd him out of the house.

“You want your father to come home to no dinner after a full day at the factory?” She shakes her head in disappointment, and Baekhyun cannot help but roll his eyes. 

“Fine,” he huffs, getting up from the couch and stuffs the pear in his mouth, munching with tired disdain. 

“There’s some money on the dining table, Baekhyunie.” 

He waves a hand behind him as he walks, “I’ll use my own.” 

The sun peeks behind drifting clouds, Baekhyun would find it more pleasing from his bedroom window and not in the middle of a fairly busy market. He stands in front of the vegetable stall, picking at the celery and lettuce and realising he’s forgotten how to judge what is best amongst the bunch. With the city’s pre-packed everything, Baekhyun used little energy for groceries which proved advantageous in his sleep-deprived and over-consuming work shifts. However, he can’t do that here, not when he can choose what will satisfy his mother. 

“The one on the right looks good.”

Baekhyun turns to see Chanyeol step beside him, his usually wavy hair tousled from the midday breeze. Looking back at the lettuce, he hovers his hand over them, trying to recall Chanyeol’s words to clarity rather than his voice being rich and sticking to his skin like dried honey. Before Baekhyun can explode as his system short circuits, Chanyeol towers over him to reach across, brushing Baekhyun’s hand to pick a lettuce he deems good and holds it out for the brunet. 

“I don’t have all day, take it.”

Landing back on earth, Baekhyun takes the lettuce and turns it over to the person manning the stall who packs it—along with some celery and herbs chosen by Chanyeol who says to add them with the lettuce. 

“What are you doing here?” Baekhyun says, taking his vegetables after paying for them. Chanyeol walks and Baekhyun follows automatically. 

“The same as you,” he answers while scanning the crowd. He seems to be searching, Baekhyun looks around as if he will spot whoever Chanyeol is actively searching for. 

“Who are you looking for?” 

“None of your business,” Chanyeol’s eyes continue to jump around the crowd, he makes an effort to stand on his toes as if he isn’t above everyone’s heads with how tall he is. Baekhyun is trying to hide his smile from watching the scene until Chanyeol glances at him with narrowing eyes. “Why are you following me?”

“You approached me first,” Baekhyun counters, which turns out to be a bad idea because Chanyeol scoffs, a jabbing remark on the tip of his tongue. He cuts in quickly. “I’ll leave.”

Chanyeol nods, face relaxing, only to tense once more when Baekhyun speaks again.

“After I help you find whoever you’re looking for.”

“I don’t need your help,” he bitterly reminds, “and besides I’d rather she not see—”

“Chanyeollie dear, have I found you?” 

Chanyeol spins around so fast that Baekhyun feels the wind on his face created by the action. He forgets Baekhyun entirely and makes his way to a short older woman who hobbles through the crowd carrying paper bags, though there are fewer compared to the ones Chanyeol has in his grip. 

“Grandma,” Chanyeol says, immediately reaching for the bags in her hand. She shakes her head and pulls away. “You must be tired, let me carry them.”

“No less tired than you,” the older woman says, brushing Chanyeol’s hair away. “I’ve found the tomatoes, let’s go home.” Her gaze flickers to the side, and Baekhyun tenses when she squints her small eyes at him. “Was that the man you were walking with earlier? He looks familiar.”

Chanyeol tries to stop her from walking. “Grandma, I really think we should be heading home.” A second’s admonishing glance is shared with Baekhyun’s frozen form, signalling him to get lost. It’s too late though because Chanyeol’s grandma is firmly set on Baekhyun.

“Baekhyun, is that you?” She lets out a small gasp, dropping her paper bags on the ground beside her as she cups Baekhyun’s face in her warm, frail hands. “Goodness, look at you, you’ve grown so much,” she examines his face with thin slit eyes, a bright smile on her lips. “It’s been such a long time. How are you, dear?”

“Ah…” Baekhyun looks to Chanyeol for help, but the taller man avoids eye contact for some frustrating reason. He settles with casual acceptance, staving down his anxiety. He didn’t expect the old woman to handle him so gently when he broke her grandson’s heart. “I’m doing great.”

She takes that with stride, brushing her hands down his shoulders to his sides affectionately. Without letting go of him, she turns to Chanyeol’s timid figure. “Has he come back for you, Chanyeollie?” 

Something about the question puts Baekhyun in a weird state of confusion and relief. The confusion is standard, but the relief makes no sense to him.

“He’s just visiting,” Chanyeol has been making it his duty for the last five minutes to give the ground his undivided attention. This is the one time Baekhyun wishes to communicate with him indirectly to figure out how to deal with this. Unfortunately, he’s left to his own devices.

“Visiting?” she frowns, turning to Baekhyun again. “Are you leaving again, Baekhyunie?”

He has no idea what’s going on, but he’s on the right path to think this interaction is odd—Mrs Park’s kindness aside, she shouldn’t be this welcoming of him. “In two months.” He answers briefly, not too much, not too little, safe. 

“I hope you spend a lot of time with Chanyeol before then.“ Picking up her bags, she smiles at the both of them. “He talks about you.”

Baekhyun hardly gets to respond when Chanyeol gears up between them, nudging him aside. The small contact allows Baekhyun to feel the slightest warmth even with layers of clothing between them. 

“Okay, it’s getting late,” Chanyeol chuckles awkwardly, ushering his grandma from the middle of the market. “We’re in people's way as well, let's go home, grandma.”

“Why are you in such a rush, Chanyeollie? This is not like you,” she chastises lightly. She looks to Baekhyun with the same softness. “Are you joining us, Baekhyunie?”

“Oh, no,” Baekhyun answers swiftly, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea at all when it concerns a certain tall man. 

“That’s a shame,” she looks disappointed, and both Chanyeol and Baekhyun share a glance, a silent agreement. 

“I can walk with you home,” Baekhyun suggests, “and Chanyeol. But I can’t stay.” He gestures to the vegetables in his hands, “I gotta head home to my mom. To…help her…” He sheepishly says. He’s not one to help in the kitchen with any sort of cooking, but the explanation will have to do. It seems Chanyeol caught on to his lies because he gives him one of his infamous eye rolls. 

Nevertheless, the older woman is happy to have him for a short while. She keeps him engaged in a general conversation about how he’s been doing while they exit the market and head toward Chanyeol’s home. The more Baekhyun talks with Chanyeol’s grandma, the more time staggers, blurring the line between what is real and gone. 

It drifts to circle him in a continuous loop as if he’s eighteen and Chanyeol is still his, and he’s still Chanyeol’s. By the end, when they reach the quaint house belonging to the Park’s, Baekhyun blurts out the thought carefully forming over their interaction.

“She talks as if we’re still together.”

Chanyeol is staring at the ground, a staple for today. His grandma is somewhere inside, having patted Baekhyun's head as a goodbye, leaving them alone at the doorway. 

Baekhyun should be angry at the silent confirmation, but he feels the sunlight heating his back and how it's nothing compared to the small moment of contact with Chanyeol at the market. Even through layers of clothing, Chanyeol is warmer than the natural heat this world is gifted with. 

The past and present don’t make much sense in his mind.

“The day we broke up…” Chanyeol begins, “was also the day I got a call about my grandma found unconscious in the lounge by one of the neighbours. The days are long and slow, but numbered. It’s like I’m waiting to wake up and she’s gone. I couldn’t tell her…” Chanyeol no longer holds sharpness in his voice or an edge of something hidden for Baekhyun to decode in order to discover what is real and false. It’s just his voice this time, plainly him. “She’s holding on to how I'm not completely alone here. Especially since my parents are all the way in Seoul. if the chances lead to the worst…” he sighs, “so I lied and said we decided to have a long-distance relationship.” 

Things start to make more sense. Pieces come together, only to fall apart again when he looks at Chanyeol, noticing the age of time in features that were once soft and now there's details hard to decipher. Eyes no longer having the innocence of transparency, a length of life unknown to Baekhyun lives between them. And yet, Baekhyun feels it hasn’t been a day since they’ve broken up.

He has nothing to say; it’s too late, but here’s to picking up one piece, far from what he left Chanyeol to pick up ten years ago. He hopes Chanyeol isn’t counting.

“Then we’re in a long-distance relationship,” Baekhyun says. Chanyeol finally lifts his eyes to meet his, and Baekhyun can see every bit of doubt flickering in him. “We don’t have to tell her the truth.”

“Don’t do me any favours,” Chanyeol is back to his usual, stacking bricks between them, likely an extra layer after opening up to Baekhyun. “Especially out of pity.”

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Baekhyun questions, crossing his arms to appear cocky, when in reality he feels too exposed as if someone wiped the dust from the place in the middle of his chest. “The only other thing is to tell her we’ve been over for a good while now.”

He’s being unfair. Baekhyun is touching dangerous territories, kindling fire that has long burned out. Chanyeol’s expression deepens; it’s obvious he’s fighting against the inevitable. Baekhyun is selfish in everything, but he’s never been selfish for something unrelated to his ambitions. He sees Chanyeol falling into torn acceptance, and he’s sickly satisfied. Fake as they will be, he has something. He just doesn't understand why he wants something. 

Baekhyun walks home with his phone clutched in his hand with a new number added to his contact list. He’s probably making the worst decision of his life or simply nothing. Nothing can come out of this. Does this mean he would take back his decision? He doesn’t know. What he does know is his chest is beating ten times faster and he has wisps of Chanyeol in the palm of his hand. 

~

Chanyeol does not answer his texts. Baekhyun is sure after he shoots the 12th or 13th sticker and meme Chanyeol is hovering over the block option next to his name. Nonetheless, Baekhyun takes advantage of having access to Chanyeol, his ex, who he believed was a closed chapter, long packed with forgotten things. Now he’s on his phone, in the clinic he works at, Baekhyun is back home to the place he vowed never to return. Things turn out weirdly, but he’s not one to question reality when said reality includes Chanyeol’s message box within his grasp and his looming, snarky presence. 

It's funny how he finds that fulfilling. 

“Has he blocked you yet?”

“Not yet,” Baekhyun answers smugly, glancing across the table to Junmyeon. His friend came to visit him and Baekhyun has yet to give him his full attention when all of it is glued to his phone. 

“You’re aware he will but somehow you’re still bothering him,” Junmyeon says, opening up the menu and reading through the options. “How did this development even happen?”

He shrugs, “it just did.”

“You wormed your way in by annoying him,” his friend deadpans.

“Totally,” he smiles, sending one more silly dog sticker and seeing the message read instantly, Chanyeol can ignore him but he can’t hide the fact he’s seeing the texts. Putting down his phone, he props his chin on his palm and waves his hand across the menu dismissively. “Order for me.” The restaurant Baekhyun picked is random but it serves its purpose. They didn’t have much time to scour for a nicer place when Baekhyun is only on break from the clinic for 35 minutes. 

Rolling his eyes, Junmyeon looks back at the menu. “I won’t even blame him if he decides to block you and get you kicked out of the clinic. What about fried chicken?”

He nods, sliding the menu toward Junmyeon as if pushing the responsibility of ordering physically to him. “That won’t ever happen,” Baekhyun says with a grin. “Because I have leverage now.”

“And what exactly might that be?” He waves down a waiter, giving them their order and turns back to Baekhyun. “Hopefully, nothing you conjured out of delusion.”

“We’re dating.”

“What?!”

“Not technically,” Baekhyun remains unfazed by his friend’s outburst, propping both his elbows on the table while he lazily holds his face. “We’re fake dating. Do you know he never told his grandma about us ending it?”

Junmyeon narrows his eyes. “You’re not making this up, are you?” 

“If I was, how do you explain this?” He waves his phone in the air to indicate that he has Chanyeol’s number. 

“Doesn’t he hate you?” Junmyeon points out bluntly, making Baekhyun glare at his friend’s lack of blindly supporting all of his questionable escapades.

“He sure does…” Baekhyun sighs, thinking of the moments Chanyeol didn’t hold back in voicing his distaste for Baekhyun and anything revolving around becoming friendlier. But, on the other hand, there are unexplainable times when Chanyeol confuses him on what he’s thinking. “but…he also doesn’t? He confuses me sometimes.” He says thoughtfully, wondering how much he should reveal without painting the image he’s overthinking. “He does things that are nice and then he does things that drop me right back to earth where I realise he’s still angry.” 

“Care to explain.” Their food arrives and Junmyeon takes the liberty to set Baekhyun’s plate for him while the brunet stays contemplating the events that occurred during the last week and a half between him and his ex.

“It’s not anything direct,” he mutters. How much is there to read into the coffee, lunch boxes, strawberries and the small help he got from him at the market? Chanyeol could have easily ignored him and waited until Baekhyun left the vegetable stall before approaching it, but he chose to show up and not forgetting how easily Chanyeol gave in to their fake dating—is it because he cares about his grandma too much? Wouldn’t it be better to let her know the truth? 

Ten years passed by and Chanyeol’s grandma believes they haven’t done anything but stay devoted to each other even through the distance. Wouldn’t that period of lying to his one family member be painful? How could did he bear it? Baekhyun’s head is starting to throb. “He doesn’t hide his disdain for me but…” Baekhyun chews on his lip, he’s going to sound pathetic and his friend is going to let him know without a second thought. “I don’t think he hates me completely?”

“You sure this isn’t coming from your own desire to believe there’s more?”

Baekhyun almost groans at the predictable rational response. “What have I ever wanted, Junmyeon? I don’t care about anything other than my job. I broke up with him, this is just me reconciling with that. I hurt him, which was undeserved. I recognise that and because I’m not an evil person I’m righting my wrongs. Plain and simple.”

Junmyeon wipes his mouth after taking a bite during Baekhyun’s rant, uncaring. “Right, now that you’ve had your chance to lie to yourself, I have a couple of things to say,” he stares at Baekhyun unwavering, “you’re setting yourself up you know that, right?” Baekhyun blinks at the seriousness in his friend's voice. “This is gonna end badly. Whether he cares a little or not about you, the reality is you guys broke up. And you can’t ‘play pretend,’” he air quotes, “to fix anything or change what is right in front of you. It’s like a house looking spotless but it’s someone sweeping the dust under the rug.” 

Baekhyun pouts, “I’m not trying to get back with him. I’m just helping him out with something. It’s the beginning of becoming friends after everything. Is it so hard to ignore the consequences and just be happy for me?”

“This is not happiness, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon says, picking up another chicken wing. “It’s dangerous. You and Chanyeol can get hurt. I remember during residency you were a wreck despite it being a year since you left home. You failed your first year until Doctor Kim personally mentored you. Is it possible to stay friends if you loved him to the point it almost cost you the life you have now?”

“But it didn’t,” Baekhyun snapped, his throat feeling unnaturally tight. “I didn’t love—” he’s cut short when his breath catches. He looks down at his hands on the table, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say he’s twenty-three in his apartment in Seoul with how the heaviness in his chest feels no different than it did back then.

“You have to let him go, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon gently adds. “Maybe it would be easier if you saw that he’s doing fine and will be fine when you leave as well.”

Baekhyun sighs. He doesn’t agree with his friend’s sentiment, but he knows Junmyeon isn’t expecting one. He’s given the space to decide for himself. However, he isn’t sure how much he trusts himself to make a decision.

~

He thought Sehun would eventually warm up to him (in other words he had high hopes about Chanyeol changing his mind by adding a more amiable picture concerning Baekhyun after they reached common ground through a shared white lie). Unfortunately, Baekhyun is proven he has a problem related to delusional hopefulness. 

Something about Sehun puts him off. He can’t tell what it is except he doesn’t enjoy the sight of the receptionist with Chanyeol. Like at this moment Baekhyun enters the clinic to be met with a soft laugh greeting him, Chanyeol stands by the receptionist counter, conversing with Sehun in casual lightness and Baekhyun has the urge to dig up the earth with his bare hands and stuff Sehun in it.

“I’ll check if Jongin is available for later,” Sehun says, pulling out his phone. “Zzar will be fine with your grandma, right?”

“She’s quite tame with my grandma as opposed to me,” Chanyeol leans on his forearms across the counter to peek at Sehun’s phone. “In fact, she’s good with Jongin as well. It’s me she runs a ruckus.”

Sehun chuckles. “That’s because you spoil her.” 

Whoever this “Zzar” is, Baekhyun is not prepared for rivalry number 2. He walks up to the receptionist's desk and casually leans on the counter as if he’s been there the entire time. “What’s this I hear about later?” Baekhyun doesn’t miss the sigh coming from his ex. 

Sehun gives him an unimpressed look. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“I’m ignoring that,” Baekhyun turns to Chanyeol, “whatever it is, I want in.”

Sehun shakes his head, and Chanyeol says a curt “No.”

“I’m ignoring that too,” he points out undeterred by the obvious unwelcomed aura circling him. “I need to remind you, Chanyeol, about what we’re both in on. What would your grandma say when I happen to stumble upon her and I accidentally slip out I have no idea where you went without me?”

Chanyeol sucks in a breath in exasperation, “You wouldn’t.”

He pretends to pick at his cuticles while Chanyeol glares him down. “Would I not? And what if I cannot contain my mouth further and share the many, many unanswered texts?”

“You’re going to hell,” Chanyeol drags a palm down his face while Baekhyun waits for the inevitable. It’s a complete change to how he was mere minutes ago, Baekhyun can’t say he isn’t slightly affected by it. “Fine. We’re just going to eat. Maybe a few drinks.”

Sehun, who was silently watching their exchange, speaks up. “Chanyeol.” He warns, bringing the tall man’s attention to him who brushes him off with a wave, a gesture to say it’s fine. 

Baekhyun smiles triumphantly. “Great, I’ll see you then.” 

That afternoon, Baekhyun joins Sehun and Chanyeol as they make their way to a local pub. Sehun tries to act natural and include the imposter amongst them in the form of Baekhyun. He appreciates the effort but he doesn’t care for a generalised talk when his mind is elsewhere on a hill overlooking the picture of a raven-haired man as the blinking sun being the grey clouds touches him. Baekhyun cranes his neck to glimpse Chanyeol beside him wondering when will it be too much if he so happens to reach up and touch his hair to make sure he’s real. 

He spots moments when Chanyeol spares glances at him, taking Baekhyun back to when they first started to date and both of them were awkward: Chanyeol being hesitant and Baekhyun contemplating if he rushed into this decision. How ironic to be the first to ask Chanyeol out and also dump him.

Clearly, the hesitance at the start was due to shyness, and the hesitance now…Baekhyun faces the view ahead. When did Chanyeol become hard to read? 

When did Baekhyun start to care to find the answers?

Chanyeol opens the door to the pub. Sehun walks in, Baekhyun expects Chanyeol to follow right after but he waits and Baekhyun stares dumbly. 

“Are you going in or not?” he asks, making Baekhyun realise he’s actually waiting for him, which sets him in motion. 

Sehun sits in a booth and waves them over. The closer he gets he realises someone else sits beside Sehun, a man with mocha-coloured hair that matches the warm tone of his oversized sweater. 

“Zzar is home with Grandma Park,” Chocolate Man says while they shuffle into the booth. 

Chanyeol allows Baekhyun in first, leaving him to face the stranger, who smells like a pastry puff. Chanyeol sits across from Sehun. Baekhyun remembers Sehun asking someone named Jongin if they’re free, so he assumes this is who they meant.

“Did she trouble you a lot?” Chanyeol asks.

“She’s a sweetheart,” Jongin smiles. “She needs more time with her dad though.”

“Her dad?!”

Everyone turns to Baekhyun during his outburst. He awkwardly clears his throat to divert some of the attention. “Who is Zzar?”

Jongin goes to answer, and Baekhyun is beginning to get the idea he’s the nicer one amongst them in general, but Chanyeol shakes his head. Sehun looks genuinely confused at everything happening between the three of them.

“She’s family,” Chanyeol offers vaguely.

Clearly, she is, Baekhyun thinks, stuffing down the urge to respond sarcastically. “What kind of family?”

“Just family.”

“It’s his dog.”

“Jongin!”

“What?” Jongin says to Chanyeol, “Why are you being weirdly evasive?” He then turns to Baekhyun who looks a tad less tense than a moment before the reveal. “Hi, I’m Jongin. I look after Zzar sometimes because Yeol is too busy for the little princess.”

“Shifts at the clinic are long,” Chanyeol defends himself immediately, a disgruntled pout on his lips while glaring down Jongin. Baekhyun takes pleasure in this, he will get along with Jongin just fine. 

Sehun, who seems to have a knack for watching exchanges silently, happens to have a suspiciously wide grin on his face while looking directly at him. Baekhyun raises a questioning eyebrow but Sehun moves on too quickly, either he didn’t catch it or he didn’t care. “He practically runs that place. Might as well build a house right next door.” Sehun joins in.

“I’m not that bad.” It’s a poor attempt to break down the solid wall of opinion his friends have on him but he’s too busy nursing his betrayal to properly argue. 

“You show up at work at five in the morning and leave at six after everyone else. What do you do?”

Baekhyun wasn’t aware of this. Chanyeol being passionate isn’t new, but Chanyeol being a workaholic? This brings some concern.

“Your puppy is going to take me as the dad and not her actual dad.” Jongin appears to be joking, but there’s some truth in his statement. He’s trying to make Chanyeol understand. “Chanyeol, you have Zzar to keep you entertained while you spend more time at home with your grandma. And besides, you work in administration. You don’t need to be at the clinic. You just need your laptop.”

“I prefer not.” Chanyeol stubbornly responds. Jongin falters, Sehun appears exhausted, likely he has had one too many discussions about this with Chanyeol.

“Puppies get sad when their owners don’t come back after long hours.” All eyes turn to him but Baekhyun cares for only one pair. 

“She’s with Jongin.”

“There’s only so much attention I can give her when I have other puppies with me,” Jongin says kindly.

“I’m sure she has fun with Jongin,” Baekhyun doesn’t give any acknowledgement to his eyes meeting Chanyeol’s, he speaks casually, maybe the lack of feeling will take some of the seriousness away and allow Chanyeol to see none of them— or Baekhyun —are lecturing him. “But two things can exist at once and there’s a high chance she isn’t having as much fun as she would if it were yo—with her owner.” Baekhyun mentally curses himself for that slip-up, it’s too close to being intimate by directly focusing on Chanyeol.

The table is quiet. Jongin gives a thankful smile before he leans in and whispers, “He’s thinking. I believe you’ve convinced him,” he settles back on his seat, “I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Baek—” he makes the mistake of instinctively glancing beside him and his words get stuck in his throat, Chanyeol hasn’t moved his gaze from him, “—hyun.” he breathes softly. Chanyeol remains unfazed. It’s far from the times he looked at Baekhyun in the clinic. His eyes hold Baekhyun’s as if he’s watching the moon in sole fixation, seeing it both for the nth time and the first for the night.

“We haven’t ordered yet, you guys.” Sehun breaks the air around them. Baekhyun blinks, looking away quickly. Even then, Chanyeol doesn’t seem to have woken up from a daydream, simply looking down at the table in front of him. “Baekhyun,” Sehun says, making Baekhyun lift his head, willing himself to return back to reality quickly and stop free falling. “Come with me.”

“Ah, yeah.” Baekhyun shuffles to stand, waiting for Chanyeol to leave the booth so he can make his way out. Hastily, he joins Sehun, rubbing his hands down the side of his shirt. The feeling twisting in every part of him is getting too much to bear. He has the urge to escape. 

“What do you like?” Sehun asks while they sit at the bar.

Straight vodka would do. “Gin and tonic,” Baekhyun sighs out, resting his cheek on his palm. Sehun waves down the bartender, giving their order, including what Baekhyun assumes to be the usual for Chanyeol and Jongin.  

“You still care for him.”

Baekhyun blinks, Sehun glances at him once the bartender leaves. He shakes his head, burying his face in his palm, his words muffled. No, not this again. “I don’t.”

“It’s a vague observation,” he chuckles. “I could’ve meant you cared for him as a friend, but judging by what came to your mind first, it speaks for itself.”

“I’m not doing this,” Baekhyun replies with every bit of obstinance in his tone. He uncovers his face, seeing the drinks they ordered left between them. “I thought you hate me.”

“Oh, I don’t hate you,” Sehun confesses, “I dislike you and maybe you deserve your house set on fire—”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Baekhyun says blandly, and Sehun ignores him.

“But it’s Chanyeol’s choice on what he wants.” 

He’s tempted to ask about his relationship with Chanyeol. Sehun’s consideration indicates that they’re close, but how close? He knows he’s reading into things with the lenses of his paranoia, though he isn’t on the advanced level of emotional security to self-reflect and realise he needs to sit with this to sift through the feeling to pick out why. “We’re long past the second chances stage.”

“You’re doing a poor job proving it,” Sehun gathers two drinks in his hands, leaving the other two for Baekhyun. “A really poor job.” He walks back to their booth. Baekhyun slumps and lays his head on the bar counter, wishing things weren’t this difficult. 

Grabbing the remaining drinks in hand, he follows suit. Chanyeol spots him and stands, allowing Baekhyun to take his initial seat. It wasn’t necessary. He brushes it away, refusing to overthink one more thing confusing him. Light conversation follows around the table, Baekhyun learns Jongin owns a kindergarten for pets—particularly dogs, which is home-based. Sehun happens to be studying part-time and working, he has a permanent placement at the clinic, but he manages fine. 

He emphasises Chanyeol helping him where he can. Baekhyun wonders just how young he is, he finds out no sooner Sehun is in his late 20s, and so is Jongin. That makes Baekhyun and Chanyeol five years older than them. No wonder Chanyeol is particularly fond of Sehun and vice versa. Sehun speaks of living on his own, having just moved from the city two years ago, Chanyeol helped him settle in after his first day at the clinic. Jongin has lived here all his life and doesn’t plan to leave, he has a long-distance relationship with his boyfriend who travels for his line of work. 

Baekhyun tries to share things about himself, but there isn’t much to offer. What else is there to say besides the fact he is a pharmacologist and spent most of his life working toward that? He isn’t about to add he has no hobbies if you exclude one-night stands in a broom closet. He realises how he’s clearly a mess and the only thing that once made sense was in med school dati— no. This night is not turning out in his favour.

“Let’s do shots.”

“It’s the middle of the week, Sehun,” Chanyeol reasons. “I’m not prepared to wake up with a pounding headache tomorrow.” He pushes aside his empty glass of some fruity drink Baekhyun knows nothing about. He still likes overly sweet things. 

“Typical,” Sehun rolls his eyes. “Live a little?”

Jongin half raises his hand. “I’m in.”

“I knew I could count on you, Jongin,” he pats him on the shoulder.

“There’s a catch, isn’t there?” Chanyeol says, eyeing Sehun suspiciously.

“Well…” He drags. Baekhyun can judge he’s already tipsy from the one drink he had. “Everyone gets to ask someone a question—any question and you can either choose to answer or,” he imitates taking a shot, “bottoms up.”

“I’m the only stranger amongst everyone,” Baekhyun acknowledges, and they’ve gotten most of the get-to-know-you’s out of the way. If Sehun is implying questions that aren’t particularly straightforward, he isn’t sure if he wants to join.

“Be prepared for most of the questions then,” Sehun says especially helpfully, confirming Baekhyun’s thoughts about this game being nothing close to innocent. “I’m sure everyone has something they want to ask. It doesn’t have to be serious, just unwind.” He waves down a waiter.

“Are we not unwinding? We had drinks.” Chanyeol points out dully.

After giving the order, Sehun turns back to the table. “Jongin is too friendly, Chanyeol is too unfriendly, Baekhyun is lost, and I’m getting bored.” Their shot glasses arrive, the waiter sliding them to the middle and Sehun grins. “Who’s going first?”

Chanyeol stubbornly stays quiet, he’s being difficult on purpose since things didn’t go his way. Baekhyun would volunteer but he’s not sure how to open the game on what is appropriate on Sehun’s level. 

“I’ll go,” Jongin happily says. Baekhyun is ready to watch how this plays out, but Jongin’s eyes flicker at him. “Baekhyun, is there anyone back home waiting for you?”

Sehun laughs, laying crossed fingers on the tabletop like he’s up to no good. “Straight to the point. Nice.”

Although this is not what he expected, Baekhyun chooses to be honest, considering it’s a fairly mild question. “Yeah,” he says. In his peripheral vision, he spots Chanyeol tensing and gripping his empty drink glass. “My empty apartment.”

Sehun puffs out in annoyance. “Good start, boring end. I’ll go,” his lips curl in a smile, facing the man in front of him and Chanyeol tenses further. “Chanyeol, when was the last time you slept with someone?”

“What is your motive?” He questions, narrowing his eyes, and Sehun merely shrugs.

“Answer or,” he motions to the drinks on the platter, “time is ticking.”

Sighing, Chanyeol answers vaguely. “A few months ago.”

“With who?”

All eyes fall on Baekhyun, and he gets a sense of deja vu. Chanyeol scoffs, sounding as if he predicted this outcome.

“Is that your question, Baekhyun?” Sehun raises an eyebrow. Baekhyun feels his face start to burn. Curse the man for knowing too much, he reminds him of Junmyeon. He shakes his head, and Sehun casually moves on as if Baekhyun isn’t sweating right now. “Chanyeol, go.”

“When was the last time you slept with someone?” Chanyeol doesn’t miss a beat. Sehun blinks, Jongin’s mouth parts, and Baekhyun is caught in the crossfire of Chanyeol’s gaze on him and the hidden burn sweeping across his pupils. He doesn’t understand why Chanyeol looks angry, but he guesses it doesn’t matter when he’s close to being consumed. 

The three of them wait for him to react; to answer or to drink. Even with Chanyeol’s honesty in answering the same question, Baekhyun isn’t ready to face the aftermath of saying just a few weeks ago, before I arrived in Damyang to be exact. He’s the first to reach for a shot glass and downs it in one go. 

The drink is stronger than the last one he had, burning down his throat. He realises this is an answer on its own. Chanyeol is smarter than he gives him credit for. He always can read into Baekhyun without much effort and it’s both something Baekhyun hated and liked him for. At this moment, he hates it. 

Chanyeol nods, chuckling sarcastically, he looks completely different when deeper emotions overtake him. Anger isn’t just anger. Baekhyun is left to face all he has in one blow. “You were enjoying yourself.”

He shouldn’t take the bait and add more fuel to the fire, but after the frustrating day—the frustrating weeks since he arrived here, he’s reached his limit. If Chanyeol wants to play the game this way then Baekhyun is happy to oblige. He doesn’t care whose turn it is and directs another at Chanyeol. “Was it a one-time thing?”

Scowling at Baekhyun with such disgust in his eyes, he throws. “And why should I tell you?”

Baekhyun gives a laugh of his own at the audacity. “Drink up then.”

Chanyeol doesn’t hesitate to take another shot. The glass slams on the wooden table making the two spectators across from them flinch, Baekhyun simply quirks an eyebrow, challenging. “How many people did you sleep with?”

“What kind of question is that?” Baekhyun can’t help the mild surprise in his voice, except it comes out more indignantly than anything else. 

“You know what to do if it’s too much for you, Baekhyunie~” Chanyeol sing-songs, enjoying the coiling frustration in Baekhyun. 

Seeing the too-satisfied, devilish grin on Chanyeol’s handsome face, his insides burn brighter, with rage or something else he doesn’t have the time to decipher because his blind ignorance takes over in a flash. “Six, if you count this year alone.” A shallow blow, a hopeless one to take back some control but it does the opposite effect. Chanyeol’s reaction is quiet, eyes dimming even with the bright overhead lights. It’s instantaneous how not a moment later Baekhyun physically feels the heavy weight of a wall shutting him out the longer he stares into him. 

He wants this to stop, they’re hurting each other for no reason, but Baekhyun is blinded by his own need to live a lie he forced on himself.

“Uh…” Jongin tries to intervene. Baekhyun catches Sehun laying a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and Jongin stays out of it.

The sudden realisation Sehun is with them, he had to get out the one thing which bothered him for a while despite how it didn’t make much sense, nor is there proof—if you count how close Sehun and Chanyeol are with each other, the one that makes him laugh, the one who is comfortable with, the one that knows the Chanyeol now and how to read him like the back of their hand whereas Baekhyun is clueless. “Was Sehun the one you slept with?” 

“Are you insane?” Chanyeol shouts, he looks about ready to throw the drink glass in front of him at Baekhyun.

“Is that a no?” Baekhyun presses, more to aggravate.

“You’re insufferable,” he says with less bite than Baekhyun expected, Chanyeol’s entire composure changed after he got an answer to the question he asked earlier. It’s like watching dry, brittle ground spark in a telltale of a fire but nothing happens, something desperately wishing to burn when all it wants is rain. “Why are you here? Did you return because you had no choice or because you have ulterior agendas?”

“Too many questions, invalid,” Baekhyun dismisses, and Chanyeol doesn’t bat an eye, he has turned to stare at his empty shot glasses. “Why did you lie to your grandma? Was it really to protect her? Or do you still care?”

A hollow laugh escapes Chanyeol. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Full of myself for asking a valid question?”

“Maybe because you never seem to notice other people exist outside of yourself,” Chanyeol says so simply as if he repeated them a thousand times to the point the words hold no meaning.

Baekhyun didn’t take such criticism lightly, no matter how much the voice in his mind begged him to see what lies under all his pride, he refused to listen. He’s given something, a small image of what Chanyeol dealt with. But he’s never been good with his emotions. Not once has he thought, ‘Let me open myself up, let me add something meaningful outside of ambition, let me choose lov—’ “What’s your issue? Are you messing with me? Punishing me? One moment you’re nice, the next you’re not,” Baekhyun says.

“Believe what you want,” Chanyeol dismisses listlessly, infuriating Baekhyun at the lack of bite he experienced earlier, it digs into his skin uncomfortably, much harsher than the melt of ice pricking him to numbness, as if he’s fanning over dry leaves for hours to bring the speck of warmth and all he gets is the wind whistling in his ears begging him to give up and move on, this is hopeless. 

Grabbing the lapel of Chanyeol’s coat, he tugs with all his strength for him to look at him and not the table. “If you’re trying to fuck with me, then congratulations you’re doing a splendid job.” Fight back, Baekhyun watches Chanyeol’s eyes shift between his, and it’s different in how he leans closer.

“You were the one that left. You. What are you confused about?” Chanyeol’s breath tickles the skin on his cheek. Baekhyun is hit with the scent of alcohol and Chanyeol’s cologne, a warm, amber tone fills Baekhyun up in one single inhale. He's stuck in how Chanyeol is trying to reach him, allowing him to hold his coat, fingers brush his wrist, and Baekhyun has no instinct to recoil at the touch. If he can just say what's on his mind, if he can.

He lets go of his coat. “I don’t know.”

Chanyeol nods, a weak smile gracing his lips. “Is that all I’m worth? ‘I don’t know,’ ‘let’s break up.’ Half answers, barely the truth. You don’t deserve to ask me all these questions when you’ve never answered mine.” He stands from the booth and begins walking to the exit. 

His anger washes in one retreating wave, washing him ashore in all of its disorientation and the heavy weight of regret. “Chanyeol, wait.” He gets up from his seat, almost tripping on a chair leg as he tries to catch up with Chanyeol. Pulling the door open, he’s met with a downpour. The rain makes it hard to see, but he doesn’t hesitate to walk into it, looking both ways. He spots a tall figure to the right, undeniably Chanyeol in how he towers over everyone. He makes it close enough to latch onto Chanyeol’s wrist but it’s pulled right out of his grip. 

The action stings, how quickly he pulled away. Baekhyun tries to reach for him again.

He steps back. “Don’t.” 

Baekhyun finally takes him in, seeing his eyes turning red around the edges and it can’t be from the rain falling above them. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Sorry for what?” Chanyeol sounds so defeated, Baekhyun wishes he didn’t have to hear it.

“I…” He falters. For everything. “I’m just sorry.” 

“I can see how you're hesitant and confused,” His voice is filled with every emotion that he tries to keep at bay but he fails with each word. “You don't know what you want and yet you're here. What do you want, Byun Baekhyun? This is all you've done since day one. You think it's enough to leave the other person to read your actions—conclude your intentions. You want me to do everything you're so afraid to do.”

All Baekhyun can do is listen, he doesn’t want to do anything else but listen. When has he last given Chanyeol a chance to explain how he feels about anything? For Baekhyun shoving his way back into his life, for forcing them to be friends. For not considering what he felt about a break-up after being together for four years.

“I wish I was punishing you, I wish that I could,” Chanyeol wraps his arms around himself, wet hair sticking to his face. Baekhyun cannot move from this image, how this may be a glimpse of what Chanyeol was during their first months apart. “I thought—” he falters, breath caught in the cool rain. 

Despite the heavy pelts on the ground, his voice reaches him, and Baekhyun sees, he puts together how the earth could try its hardest to drown them—he can pretend to let it drown him, but nothing in himself beats to full consciousness than when he’s close to Chanyeol. It’s the first thing he accepts since choosing to leave this town, and everything with it.

“I thought, maybe if I treated you like everyone else you would be like everyone else,” Chanyeol says. “It’s stupid to think that being nice to you would make this better, but I’m running out of options. I don't know how to make this hurt less.”

Baekhyun feels his throat ache; it grows with every word spoken from Chanyeol; it’s within the suffocation he understands the ache travels from the pounding in his chest. 

“All you've given me—all you've been giving me is pieces and I can't. I cannot survive on this. It's not enough to have hope, and not enough to move on.” He lets out a choked sob, covering his face, he breathes deeply, gathering what little strength he has to look at Baekhyun again. “You chose this for us, then mean it. I'm not the one messing with your head.” 

Chanyeol walks away. Baekhyun is left stranded, a million pieces beneath his feet.