Contrary to what most people believe, Chanyeol isn’t always bubbly. He doesn’t always yell at the top of his lungs, doesn’t always answer his classmates’ calls, doesn’t always smile or laugh. Chanyeol is actually like everyone else. He has his down days, has moments where he doesn’t want to smile or laugh, has times when he doesn’t feel like talking. He is, after all, human.

And like all humans, Chanyeol feels fear.

He’s afraid of spiders, clowns, mascots. He gets scared of lightning and thunder, of darkness. He still doesn’t like his elementary school science teacher who once tore into him for forgetting to do his homework, her fuming face occasionally an unnecessary cameo in his nightmares. He’s afraid of drowning, of dying in fires, of not waking up once he falls asleep.

Chanyeol is also afraid of rejection.

Now, Chanyeol’s not an unreasonable person. He just doesn’t like people saying ‘no’ to him. He doesn’t enjoy the way the word no sounds in his ears. He doesn’t like how he feels after being rejected, as though the happiness in him got out of him. This is why Chanyeol never sets himself up for rejection. Everything that he does would always have some form of positive return, rewards, things that make him happy, make him smile.

Like Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo is something (someone) that makes him happy. He’s been the main cause of Chanyeol’s smiles, of Chanyeol’s happiness, of Chanyeol’s buoyant emotions. Even when Chanyeol was bullying Kyungsoo and never managed to elicit any form of response, he was, deep deep down, somewhat happy. And no matter how hard Chanyeol tries to downplay Kyungsoo’s contribution to his happiness, he can’t. He can’t lie to himself. He can’t tell himself that Kyungsoo isn’t the reason you’re smiling most of the time now when it’s the truth. When it’s the ing truth.

Yet, at the same time, Kyungsoo is also the cause of Chanyeol’s imminent rejection. He’s also the something (someone) that will make Chanyeol sad. He’s going to be the main cause of Chanyeol’s frowns, of Chanyeol’s sadness, of Chanyeol’s fluctuating emotions. He’s the reason Chanyeol is strapped on a seemingly never-ending rollercoaster of up and downs. And no matter how hard Chanyeol tries to downplay Kyungsoo’s contribution to his sadness, he can’t. He can’t lie to himself. He can’t tell himself that Kyungsoo is going to love you back, that Kyungsoo loves you when it’s not true. When it’s a ing lie.

As mentioned above, Chanyeol is not someone who sets himself up for rejection if he can avoid doing so. He’d rather not experience being rejected, would rather not hear the word no being said to his face. He’d rather not fear. And so, Chanyeol doesn’t.

Chanyeol acknowledges that he loves Kyungsoo. But he doesn’t proceed any further than that. He keeps his thoughts under control, doesn’t allow them to stray, doesn’t allow them to run wild. He doesn’t think about how to confess, how to let Kyungsoo know that he loves him. He doesn’t think about what could happen after. Would they get together? Would they share a straw when sharing a drink? Would they hold hands whenever? Would they kiss in the shadows? Would they make love for real?

He doesn’t let himself think about all those. (He totally does, sadly.)

Instead, Chanyeol lets himself think of subtle ways he can do to avoid Kyungsoo. Because the only way to prevent himself from thinking those dumb thoughts is to not be in contact with the source himself. And subtly avoiding Kyungsoo is what Chanyeol does. He no longer talks to Kyungsoo if he can help it, no longer looks at Kyungsoo unless he’s called to, no longer harbours desires to get closer to Kyungsoo. Chanyeol occupies himself with Kyungsoo’s friends most of the time, sticks super duper close to Yixing whenever he can (or when Baekhyun isn’t around), and sometimes uses Baekhyun to pretend that he’s busy. Chanyeol does and will do anything to keep himself away from Kyungsoo, despite knowing that it will not help them to change back into their bodies. Well, not that they’ve been trying anyway, not when suneung revision is all they think about.

Alas, Chanyeol fails. He is unable to not be in contact with the source of his fear. Not when the source himself keeps—for ’s sake—stubbornly sticking to Chanyeol like an annoying piece of chewed gum on his own accord.

“Yeol, could you cut the packet of unagi open for me?”

The endearment still sends his heart racing, despite him constantly telling himself to not be affected. But Chanyeol won’t show it, so he grudgingly nods. He gets up from his chair and moves to the counter where Kyungsoo has a packet of frozen unagi sitting in a bowl of warm water. The fish has mostly defrosted, feels soft to the touch, and it slides out onto a plate easily when Chanyeol tilts the opened packet downwards. He hands the plate to Kyungsoo, not bothering to return the smile that Kyungsoo thanks him with, and returns to his chair. Chanyeol doesn’t bother to discard the unagi’s packaging; it’s not his business. They’re, technically, not in his home, and Chanyeol’s perfectly certain that Kyungsoo will clean up anyway because he’s the one who’s lived in this apartment for six years. He’s the one who has an attachment to this space. So there’s that.

The screech of the chair’s legs against the kitchen floor, when Chanyeol pulls it out even further away from the dining table, unceremoniously shatters the space’s silence, and Chanyeol feels the atmosphere sink even lower than it already had. The suffocating silence that had descended upon them back when Chanyeol consecutively didn’t reply Kyungsoo grows more suffocating and Chanyeol’s pretty sure that he’s going to stop breathing soon, but, whatever, he doesn’t care. Chanyeol’s not the one who went looking for trouble, he swears. Trouble is the one who came looking for him. Trouble in the form of the source of his fear. Trouble in the form of Do Kyungsoo.

Said trouble, though, seems unfazed by Chanyeol’s indifference. “Could you also crack four eggs for me?” asks Kyungsoo, as he washes the rice. “And beat them, thanks.”

Chanyeol responds with an uncommitted grunt of acknowledgment. He gets up from his chair once again, shuffling to the counter where the Zhang family stores their eggs. When he returns to his spot, Chanyeol finds a large bowl and a fork waiting for him on the table. He glances at Kyungsoo, sheer confusion washing over him. Chanyeol doesn’t get it. He really, really, really doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He doesn’t understand Kyungsoo, doesn’t—can’t—comprehend his motive. For during recess time, Chanyeol had been utterly surprised when Kyungsoo bounded up to him, smiled at him, and whispered to him I’m going to cook lunch at your– my– whatever– I’m just going to cook lunch for you, okay?

It wasn’t a question. When it comes to Do Kyungsoo, a question is never a question. So, after school, Kyungsoo followed Chanyeol home. And, now that Chanyeol is thinking thoroughly, Yixing and Baekhyun were probably lying when they told him that they had to stay back for supplementary classes. It had been so chaotic at that moment, with Kyungsoo tugging on his arm while he tried to make out Yixing’s stammer of u-uh we have classes to stay back for so I can’t go home with you today and Baekhyun’s sheepish smile. The two of them must have been approached by Kyungsoo, must have been told to stay away in order for Kyungsoo to carry out whatever plan he’s got. A plan that Chanyeol desperately wishes he’s not a part of.

Unfortunately, he’s definitely part of it.

Chanyeol completes his task, discards the egg shells in the bin and, without coming into close proximity with the source of his fear, sets the bowl of beaten eggs near the stove. He’s about to turn to return to his seat when he feels his forearm being grabbed, his movement effectively halted.

“Yeol, could you check on the rice for me? I think it’s almost done.”

Why would I need to check on the rice when THE RICE COOKER IS ING AUTOMATIC, screams Chanyeol in his head. He can’t take it any longer, almost about to explode. But Chanyeol doesn’t, continues to tolerate, continues to wait to see what Kyungsoo is up to—a reason that Chanyeol himself doesn’t know why he’d think that. He ignores Kyungsoo’s request and noisily shuffles back to his chair. Chanyeol feels Kyungsoo’s eyes on him, hears how Kyungsoo seems to have stopped doing what he’s been doing at the stove and the kitchen lapses into silence for the umpteenth time.

And like all the previous bouts of silence since they stepped into the apartment, it’s uncomfortable.

It didn’t used to be like this. The silence between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo never was uncomfortable, even back when they were just beginning their tutoring sessions. Sure, the first session was horrible and terribly awkward but the silence around them as they did their own homework was just, there. The atmosphere was awkward, but it was not uncomfortable. It was tranquil, and Chanyeol loved the silence just as much as he loved chatting with Kyungsoo.

But this, this silence. It’s anything but tranquil. It’s suffocating, and Chanyeol hates it. Hates feeling like he’s about to die in this deadly silence. But Chanyeol doesn’t complain, keeps his comments to himself because he doesn’t want to engage in any form of conversation with Kyungsoo. It’s already hard enough to keep his thoughts and himself in check with Kyungsoo this close to him. Chanyeol doesn’t need to add on to his suffering.

, and sometimes Yixing because that pair of best friends tattling on me to Kyungsooto do with Kyungsoo, he always can’t help but wonder about him (in the most inopportune of times). He usually gets his information from Baekhyun, after making his best friend promise to not betray him or do anything behind his back like nothing Yet, Park Chanyeol will always be Park Chanyeol. Despite telling himself that he wants absolutely have begun to regularly text each other. (Chanyeol is glad that both Kyungsoo and Yixing have each other again.)

This time is no exception. Although he’s ignored Kyungsoo’s request to check on the rice (because the rice cooker will ing inform you duh), Chanyeol still checks it anyway. After settling back onto his chair, he eyes Kyungsoo for a brief moment and after seeing how Kyungsoo has his back to him, Chanyeol moves his gaze to the rice cooker. The light is still at the ‘cooking’ display, meaning that the rice is still cooking. He doesn’t tell Kyungsoo, though.

Chanyeol doesn’t realise that he’s dozed off until he feels a hand running through his hair, fingertips gently scritching at his scalp in a way that’s awfully familiar, and when consciousness fully floods into him, Chanyeol reflexively tilts his head upward to find Kyungsoo looking down at him. Chanyeol doesn’t know why his heart involuntarily starts racing, starts pounding, its thumps getting louder and louder in the silence of the kitchen.

“You’re awake,” Kyungsoo says, his Chanyeol-voice inexplicably mellow and soft, very unlike Chanyeol’s usual deep and rough-around-the-edges voice. There’s a small smile on his face, a light imprint of a dimple on his left cheek, near the corner of his slightly upturned lips. Kyungsoo’s eyes are bright, as they always have been, holding the gaze of a feeling that’s uniquely Do Kyungsoo, but there’s something about them that seems different right now. The way Kyungsoo is looking at him seems different from all the other times Chanyeol has caught him looking; he can’t put a finger on what is the difference but he just feels it. “If you’re hungry, lunch is ready.”

In his leftover cloud of sleepiness and messy thoughts, Chanyeol just nods. He still feels Kyungsoo’s hand on his head, gently ruffling his hair, and it only dawns on Chanyeol, when he’s washing his hands in the bathroom (because he needs to get away from Kyungsoo and clear his head), that the way Kyungsoo has scratched his head is exactly the same way Yixing does to him. There’s a slight difference in terms of the feeling against his scalp because Yixing keeps a little of his fingernails while Kyungsoo maintains Chanyeol’s non-existent ones, but other than that, everything else is the same. It’s no wonder Chanyeol almost whines when Kyungsoo removes his hand to wash it in the sink, giving Chanyeol the chance to slip away and chide himself for almost giving in and asking Kyungsoo to scratch his head a while longer. What a disappointment you are, Park Chanyeol.

constantly swims in his mind, reminding him, reminding him, reminding him. He sits back onto his chair, unceremoniously picks up his spoon without even bothering to see if Kyungsoo has done so and starts to dig in. It only hits Chanyeol when he’s halfway through his not talking to Kyungsoo at all After returning from the bathroom, Chanyeol’s head is clearer and his objective of meal, when he remembers that he’s eating unagi. He looks down at his bowl, where the half-eaten piece of unagi and mess of omelette, rice, and bits of seaweed look back. These are dishes that Chanyeol’s had before. These are the dishes that he’s had for numerous lunches before, for he suddenly recalls Kris always stealing bits of unagi while Sehun takes chunks of omelette. These are the dishes that would always, no doubt, appear at least once a week in Kyungsoo’s lunchbox.

In the lunchbox that Chanyeol used to take from Kyungsoo when he was bullying him.