Somewhere in the future turns out to be two days later.

Baekhyun is strolling towards his dorm, the building being the oldest of dorm houses (Oldie, as it was called between the students); made of red brick, with white ornaments decorating its windows and the main entrance. The wooden floors, light in colour and aged, are the same in main halls, rooms and his favourite place in the house - the library (call him biased). He's fine with it, not minding the cracking sound accompanying his every step and limited furniture in his room(steel-framed bed, wardrobe, dark wooden desk, also wooden commode and two shelves hung on the wall above the bed). How can he when he has the whole room to himself? And it's cheaper than living in the Playhouse (the newest dorm building, named, again, by the students and known for the parties organized there). The Oldie is calm,  not as crowded as the Playhouse and it seems as if the students occupying the rooms are not people people; no parties, no sounds of cracking beds nor moans, only some loud music occasionally. Baekhyun likes it, to say the least.

He's about halfway there, a narrow pavement squshed in the middle of a sizable lawn leading his steps, when he hears his name being called. The voice instanty clicks in his head and he turns around, slowly, eyes curious and surprised. Chanyeol is jogging in his direction (looking, as always, perfect even when running, that guy), a smile on his face and a backpack on his back. He's wearing a navy baseball jacket with white sleeves, unbottoned and showing his white shirt, paired up with dark, washed jeans. Baekhyun feels like a begger in his oversized, brown sweater and gray skinnies, but a grin blossoms on Chanyeol's handsome face when they make eye contact and Baekhyun forgets all about it. He pushes his own white backpack from his left shoulder, where it was hanging loosely, to put it on properely and smiles back at the man in front of him. Chanyeol doesn't even break a sweat, doesn't let out a pant when he finally reaches Baekhyun. Of course, he thinks to himself, of course.

"Hey." Chanyeol greets him, his baritone soothing as ever, and Baekhyun takes a second to study Chanyeol's face before answering. V-shaped jawline, defined eyebrows, straight nose with a small bump in the middle, tempting lips, lower lip fuller than the upper one, sculpted chin. And his eyes - brown, rich in colour and warm. Familiar, somehow.

"Hi." he says, his own voice steady and clear, without any signs of restlessness he's feeling.

"You free now?" Baekhyun hasn't expected that. "I was hoping for that coffee you promised me." Chanyeol says, head tilting to the right in the most endearing way Baekhyun has even seen.

He looks back at his dorm, the building visible from between the yellow crowns of the trees plated alongside the pavement. He was hoping for a peaceful afternoon; him seated on one of the saggy, leather armchairs in the dorm's library with Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poems in hand. He bites his lips and turns to glance at Chanyeol just to see the other giving him a hopeful look. Well, Mrs. Browning can wait, he guesses. Baekhyun gives Chanyeol a nod.

They find themselves in a small cafe outside the campus, chatting easily while waiting for their coffee. The interior is cozy, pastel green walls and dark brown floor, with old wooden, walnut chairs and round tables. The countetop is a few meters from the entrance, it's side facing the entry, cedar wood surface standing out from the other furniture. Right in front of it stands proudly a brick fireplace, pecan in colour, and it gives away a warm vibe (despite it probably being fake). Baekhyun feels comfortable, but doesn't know if it's because of the homey inside or Chanyeol.

 Chanyeol is a perfect company; talking casually, dropping the formal speech and keeping the topics of their small conversation light. They talk about their university, school work and teachers, their plans and Chanyeol's friends. Baekhyun learns a lot about the taller man. Chanyeol is majoring in Fine Arts and living with Jongdae and the rest of them. He wanted to be a painter, but is not confident enough to show his work to others, thus only studying for now. It's nice, getting to know the other and Baekhyun can't wipe the soft smile off his face.

"You have to show me some of your sketches, I promise I won't laugh." he pesters shamelessly, not thinking how Chanyeol will react for once. 

Chanyeol only chuckles, leaning his elbows on the surface of the table. "Someday, I promise."

Baekhyun feels hopeful, there will be another time. 

Their coffee arrives and Baekhyun sniffs his caramel latte, holding the mug close o his face. The foam looks inviting, sprinkled with cinnamon, but he knows the drink is too hot to sip, so he settles for only looking at it now. He's always liked coffee, it has never tasted bitter to him. He likes the aroma of freshly grinded beans, the shades of brown and the aftertaste lingering at the roof of his mouth. It's appeasing, but maybe it's just because that's what he's grown up to. His mother would make him and his brother coffee substitute when they were younger, the one without coffeine, and add in a lot of milk. They would sit on the veranda of their house and talk about anything and everything, or she'd read them books like Alice in Wonderland, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer or Merlin. Sometimes she would read in English and, instead of getting bored with not understanding everything, Baekhyun would listen closely; look at his mother's mouth effortlessly forming the words, foreing language surely rolling off her tongue. Baekhyun misses it.

When he looks up, Chanyeol is already staring at him, affection shining in his eyes and pleasant smile gracing his lips. Baekhyun lowers his gaze and blushes. He forces himself not to think of why the taller is looking at him like that, instead asking about midterms. Chanyeol catches his intentions, though, and teases him before answering the question. Baekhyun hates it and loves it at the same time.

After a week of not bumping into Chanyeol he gives up hope. He tries to remember if he has said something stupid or improper, but there are not many things that can go wrong during a small talk. And really, Baekhyun doesn't that much when it comes to interpersonal interactions. 

He falls dejectedly onto a bench in the caftetria, his trace with food already on the table and sighs loudly, eyeing the fried rice placed on his plate with a few side dishes next to it. It's not bad, the food. Baekhyun likes it most of the time, even if he misses his mom's cooking. He looks around the empty table and sighs again, taking a novel out of his backpack and opening it at the marked page before grabbing his chopsticks. He's late with his readings, mind occupied with Chanyeol on most days and with his wolf every night. In other words, Baekhyun is tired and demotivated for life. 

Someone flops down onto the bench beside him and Baekhyun's stomach flips even before he turns to look at the person. 

Chanyeol greets him with a warm smile and a wave, his large palm suspended in the air for two seconds before lowering to his lap again.

"Whatcha reading?" he asks