But the pupil inside keeps here and there
Although I grin from ear to ear
A second hand keeps moving

— Giriboy : I'm in Trouble

It had been a few days of eating bread slices, tinned beans and dried fruit and nuts, and going back and forth to the swimming pool to shower. But to Chanyeol, it was better to be in a company of a mellow half-madman than his abusive father: he, for the first time in seventeen years, did not have any new bruises on his skin.

“That’s nice.” Baekhyun said one morning with his mouth full of apricots. “But if you don’t stop snoring whenever you sleep, I will start hitting you around the face.”

And usually, Baekhyun wasn’t the one to make jokes, even though it sounded like one. But to be safe, Chanyeol made sure he lied face-down whenever he slept—was his snoring really that loud?

Chanyeol knew that Baekhyun was definitely a junkie—but he couldn’t bring himself to tell him to stop. Or perhaps, he was never given to chance to even stop him. Chanyeol had never witnessed Baekhyun even taking in drugs with syringes—even though the next morning there’ll always be fresh scratches and needle marks on either his arm, his thighs, or sometimes his knuckles. His eyes would be distant and far away the next morning, and his body would be cold and clammy. Plus, he never saw Baekhyun even doing junk at all.

Their days were just spent exchanging stories (well, more so on Chanyeol’s behalf), thieving (Baekhyun’s behalf) or just sitting in silence. Sometimes Chanyeol came with Baekhyun to sift through a nearby dumping site and find a few interesting things or two to take home, or brought their clothes along to the swimming pool to wash in the showers and dry them up Baekhyun’s crumbly house roof. But besides that, Chanyeol just… did nothing, really. A boring life.

Baekhyun asked Chanyeol if he wanted his own room.

“There’s plenty of them in this house. I’m only using one room right now.” Baekhyun simply stated. Chanyeol shook his head.

“No.”
“Why?”
“Because—“ Chanyeol paused. “—err, I like sharing a room with you? Well, I mean—if you want me to move to another room, it’s really perfectly fine—“
“Nah. I like sharing a room with you too.”

Chanyeol went red. Baekhyun had to clear his throat and clarify something.

“I mean—sharing a room as in literally sharing a room, not—“
“Y-Yes, of course I know that, Baekhyun!” Chanyeol lied, hiding his cherry-coloured face. Okay—maybe he liked sleeping next to Baekhyun and watch his sleeping face. Maybe. Just a tiny bit. But that’s not… something weird to do, right? Even siblings that share a bed do that sometimes, so why would it be awkward?

Baekhyun flicked his forehead.

Then it occurred to Chanyeol that Baekhyun never once had offered any sort of drug to him, except that one time Baekhyun offered him a joint at the railings of the bridge.

Baekhyun still smoked joints, sometimes. He’d excuse himself out for an hour and a half and he’ll come back with his pocket full of them. Though he never smoked anywhere near Chanyeol—he’d always opt to sit outside on the pile of bricks and inhaled poison whilst he watched cars pass by—unless Chanyeol chose to come and sit near him and tell him weird corny jokes.

“What does it feel like, anyways?” Chanyeol asked from the porch to the very much sub-absent Baekhyun a few yards away. “—smoking it, I mean.”

“Mmm?”

He looked at Chanyeol with foggy eyes, seeming to stare at him for a few seconds. He inhaled again, slowly blew out the white, thick smoke before he turned his eyes to the street again.

“They make me want to walk on telephone cables.”
“What?!”
“I’m serious.”

Then he laid himself on the grass and just laid there, his eyes closed. Chanyeol thought that he had fallen asleep before he saw Baekhyun’s hand lift up again, the joint held between his index and middle finger, taking a slow, deep drag and letting the drug occupy his lungs for a few seconds. Then he slowly opened his mouth and blew it all out softly, like a slow-motion steam engine.

“May I try?” Chanyeol straightened up from his seat. Baekhyun opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Sure. There’s a few under the bed, if you’d like one.”
“No—no, I mean, just one puff, that’s all. From yours.”

Chanyeol strode in his sneakers through the mass of overgrown grass, sitting down where Baekhyun was lying down, in a much clearer patch of the tangled garden. Chanyeol took the joint and put it in his mouth, his face scrunching up as he inhaled it.

Though before he could even inhale a full puff he choked and coughed, plumes of smoke puffing out from his mouth as he did so. He gave the joint back to Baekhyun and gagged full-force, making a chorus of disgusted noises and trying to spit on the grass to get rid of the weird taste. Baekhyun watched him with an entertained expression and he chuckled softly, taking in a drag before blowing it all out on Chanyeol’s face.

“Yah! Stop it!” Chanyeol squeaked, red-faced from coughing.

“Maybe you’re not quite fit for that kind of thing just quite yet.” Baekhyun said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“That thing is gross! How do you even smoke it?!”
“Easily.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of saying the same things?” Chanyeol sighed, lying down next to him. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed onto the greyish-blue sky, just starting to bloom into a fresh morning December.

They watched the sun rise over them quietly, though it was still rather cold. Baekhyun puffed the last of his joint and snuffed it away, before he rolled over on top of Chanyeol, his elbows digging against Chanyeol’s ribs and his palms supporting his own chin so he could gaze down at Chanyeol’s face with an airy set of eyes.

Chanyeol gazed at them back, his breath coming out in silent gasps—he couldn’t really hold eye contact with Baekhyun for so long, and he had to look away elsewhere to break the tension. Baekhyun just smiled.

“Your heart is beating really fast, ‘Yeollie.” Baekhyun said softly, flopping his elbows down and pressing an ear to Chanyeol’s heart. He closed his eyes peacefully and Chanyeol just watched his face shift into contentedness. “I can hear it—it’s racing madly.”

Chanyeol knew that the effects of included a fast heartbeat rate—but one drag from Baekhyun’s joint isn’t that big of a consumption to even take effect on his body, right? But Baekhyun was right—his heart was beating madly against his mouth, and for no reason otherwise.

“I don’t know. Maybe I can’t breathe properly, because my chest is supporting your whole body weight!” Chanyeol mock-groaned, amused. But it wasn’t that, either. He didn’t know why else his heart would even start to beat like this—it was beating faster than that one time his father…

. . .

“You look troubled.” Baekhyun inched closer to his face.
“I’m fine—“
“I’ve heard the exact same thing over and over again throughout my entire life, and it’s honestly getting rather boring.”

Baekhyun’s hawk eyes seem to steel over Chanyeol, loosening up his throat. Baekhyun was like some sort of drug—like some sort of sweet alcohol. Soon enough, after another wave of an icy gaze, Chanyeol shuddered and began to speak—just when a minute ago he lied and refused to.

“I just feel… well, weird.” Chanyeol said quietly. “I’ve—I’ve been in an abusive household for all of my twenty years, and moving into another lifestyle just before I knew i