1. (salt)

drip .

baekhyun’s head shifts a millimeter to the right. his shoulderblades draw together. he breathes in- apples. cherries. vanilla soap. caffeine. kyungsoo is half an hour late and the teabag in his cup has gone soggy a long time ago.

drop .

a shudder runs down baekhyun’s spine. the threads of his sweater cling closer to his back. he draws the mint-colored sleeves over to his knuckles, backs of his knees grow tighter against the wooden chair. the last sip of his coffee goes well with the thunder roaring outside the window.

kyungsoo’s hair is wet when he comes rushing in. it shines in all shades of mulberry just like baekhyun’s velvet curtains do. sorry. we got stuck in traffic. jongin had to pick his friend up from the airport. are you okay?

drip .

baekhyun hasn't slept in three days and kyungsoo has four eyes when he first looks at him. blink. his vision clears as he runs a hand through his hair. fine. sit. i'll make you a fresh cup of tea.

drop. drip.

kyungsoo talks about jongin’s friend. baekhyun breathes in the cold peppermint from the mug before he spills it down the drain.

drop .

basically what i’m saying is that you should go out a bit more. you're so pale, baek . the sink stops dripping when he turns on the faucet. there's a draft somewhere in the house- a door creaks. it must be the bedroom window he forgot to close.

baekhyun lights a candle as they sit in the living room. he feels the downpour from outside steadying his breath.

more coffee. he smiles at his friend's concern for him. (the air smells like ginger. peppermint tea. the musk from kyungsoo’s cologne.) he isn't sad at that moment. have you been eating well? don't make me come cook for you.

baekhyun’s laugh is colored cranberry as it filters around the room. kyungsoo is serious, his lips red and pouting and ever-worried. baekhyun never knew how to take good care of himself. how about sleep? don't make me call your mom. baekhyun loves kyungsoo for many reasons but this is probably his favorite. (even though he never listens.)

i’m a writer. i’m too pretentious to sleep. he isn't exactly lying. it’s just a bit different: caffeine at 3am. uninspired. vomit poetry. read ten thousand books you’ve already read ten thousand times. search for depth in the shallowest of things. go for a walk before dawn- street lighting philosophy slash extremist satire bull whilst nobody’s watching and then- more coffee. (kyungsoo can tell he’s being too quiet but he lets it go.)

kyungsoo leaves with worried eyes. he kisses the top of baekhyun’s head- nose in vanilla shampoo and regret. (he's never understood but he always tried his best to.) baekhyun leaves the empty cups in the kitchen sink.

drip. drop.

he writes about rain and kyungsoo before he passes out at his desk.

2. (swoon)

his editor tells him he's a piece of work.

it's a call at 4am. baekhyun is all nihilism, strawberries, e.e s versus ing shakespeare of all things and chanyeol finds it hard to hang up. he doesn’t follow, the boy is insane. then it’s aristotle talk, ancient greece, “sophocles was eloquent but also an ” and who even invented chocolate syrup? this takes me back … three more suicidal thoughts later and then silence. chanyeol knows the way baekhyun breathes and this is not it. (lips shuddering. heart-shaped. shaky and shallow- the complete opposite of his personality. his breath always smells like raspberries.)

are you crying? - no. yes. i don't know. i think the stars remind me of myself tonight.

chanyeol looks at the sky. (it's pitch black and chanyeol wishes he didn't open the blinds at all.)

do you want me to come over?

at first it's just a whimper. seventeen more seconds of silence. a door closing. a yes . chanyeol finds himself on the subway twenty minutes later with a black coffee in his hand. his palms are dry, the air is moist. the cold catches up with the back of his neck as he rings baekhyun’s doorbell. (he enters right away. baekhyun almost never answers the door.)

black sweatpants. beige sweater. red eyelids. his feet are up against the wall. he’s whispering: hasty, anxious, breathy. chanyeol recognizes sonnet cxvi before baekhyun even notices he’s in the room.

melancholy. the sky turns a shade lighter as chanyeol takes off his coat. (baekhyun inhales shakily. almonds. cinnamon. it smells like winter.) the coffee lacks sugar. chanyeol looks at him like he's weak. the fact that i’m being pathetic in front of you doesn't mean you're allowed to feel sorry for me.

chanyeol chuckles. the walls seem warmer whenever he makes a sound. it's my job to feel sorry for you. (it's not pity. it's want. perhaps they look the same to someone as oblivious as baekhyun.) he smooths down his t-shirt. it's pajamas but nobody cares. baekhyun moves closer, two glossy stripes down each cheek. there's salt around his eyes. he pushes chanyeol’s glasses towards the bridge of his nose. he doesn't tell chanyeol but he reminds him of caramel. (perhaps it's the color of his hair.) blankets. (what?) christmas lights. happy memories and peach colored sunsets.

talk to me. your voice makes the bad ones go away.chanyeol’s warmth isn’t just physical. baekhyun knocks out an hour before he leaves for work: hazy eyes. shaky hands. he's disoriented the entire morning. he calls baekhyun three times after three o’clock just to make sure he won't do anything stupid. (chanyeol never meant to fall in love with a writer.)

3. (spark)

so many emotions yet love is the unholiest of them all . it's friday night and chanyeol brought sushi. baekhyun is the most philosophical he's been in months. karl marx, the little prince, why do we even need eyebrows? why am i pulling a charles bukowski and metaphorically setting myself on fire featuring seven times the question “if i were in love would i be more inspired or just more suicidal or both?” around a mouthful of maki roll.

chanyeol doesn't answer. (but it's definitely both.)

later they're sitting on the floor in baekhyun’s hallway, menthol in hand. baekhyun is watching the smoke travel up towards the ceiling. the air is thick. cold. he senses the tension in chanyeol’s body as he lifts his fingers up to take a drag. the cigarette is thin against his plump lips.

desire. loneliness. baekhyun is weighing everything around him inside his head. burn. fresh. there's mint caught at the back of his throat. it untangles after another sip of coffee. chanyeol looks at him like he means more than he does. do you ever look at people and see riddles instead?

chanyeol laughs. it's as deep as the ocean and perhaps just as blue. baekhyun loves being pretentious. no. that's just you.

chanyeol’s eyes are heavy. it feels like baekhyun's swallowed a hummingbird when they look at him. it's been a week since he’s started writing about caramel. shakespeare. christmas lights. 4am unsweetened coffee.

coconut shampoo. sharp cheekbones. chanyeol doesn't kiss him first. he grabs his hand, puts it on his cheek as if he knows how hesitant baekhyun can be. it feels like an avalanche . he's usually good with words but right now that's all he's got. ing yellow. a yellow avalanche? why am i so jittery? i know- it's dandelions. hummingbirds. i've never been yellow before. it burns-

chanyeol kisses the yellow out of him.

4. (honey)

drip .

baekhyun hasn’t been waking up beside someone in years. it's caramel. white sheets. freckled nose. a pair of someone else’s glasses on his nightstand. he doesn’t feel yellow anymore. (even though it burns where the yellow has touched.)

he shifts in the bed and lets chanyeol’s hand fall into the curve of his waist. warmth. smooth skin. it makes words form at the back of his head. toes against shins. harmony of collarbones. forearms. shoulders. baekhyun had a dream about skeletal pelicans and dark chocolate last night.

drop.

he’s already written a poem by the time the coffee pot groans. (on the kitchen counter. in chanyeol’s t-shirt.) the rain starts somewhere around 9am and it's when kyungsoo calls to check up on him.

drip. drop. drip.

i feel really good today actually. he’s been putting a lot less sugar in his coffee lately. he needs to compensate somehow. don't lie to me, byun, i swear to god-

chanyeol’s arms wrap around his waist. he's shirtless. messy hair. baekhyun knows there's a tinge of yellow in his eyes but he doesn't mind. good morning . kiss on the cheek. baekhyun pushes chanyeol’s glasses up his nose.

drop .

is there someone with you?  kyungsoo sounds positively shocked. chanyeol laughs, still deep but not as blue. it colors everything in baekhyun’s body a shade warmer.yeah. there is. i'll tell you about it later.

drip. drop.

chanyeol takes a sip of his own coffee. smiling eyes. he looks at the kitchen sink for a few seconds. tell me now! oh my god, jongin won't believe me when i tell him.

drip. drop. drop.

baekhyun hangs up the phone. chanyeol closes the faucet tighter, mug in his other hand. it doesn't drip anymore.there. want some pancakes?

baekhyun smiles wide. (it’s bright tangerine.)