It takes Baekhyun less than ten minutes to see just why the hockey guys must've given up on Chanyeol. He's bad -- really, really bad. 

They finally head towards the ice, after a grueling five minute search for skates that fit Chanyeol's feet, and he can feel the nervousness rolling off the taller in waves. Maybe it's the fact that Chanyeol is just as nervous to be in this situation as he is, but Baekhyun feels more comfortable than he'd ever expected. He doesn't even remember that Chanyeol is the football captain, that Chanyeol is probably like every guy he feared in high school. 

The taller boy makes a startled noise, somewhere between a cough and a scream, as he hobbles over the ground. Baekhyun laughs out loud when the Chanyeol finally stumbles his way onto the slick surface, a sharp crack cutting the ice as he does it. Baekhyun winces at the sound of the ice recieving him, and he knows he's going to have to teach him how to balance himself properly, how to stay light on his feet.  

Chanyeol's holding onto the side of the rink for dear life, fear in his eyes, and his knees are buckling under him like a newborn deer. Baekhyun smiles at the shocked expression on Chanyeol's face, at the whiny noise he makes when he can't stand upright.

"Come here," Baekhyun motions, a few feet away. Chanyeol looks up at him, knees never ceasing their shaking, and lets out a small, relieved smile.

Chanyeol likes the way Baekhyun's tights fit him, the way the hoodie hangs off of his slim frame. He likes the way Baekhyun's skates move smoothly over the ice, legs toned and accustomed to the foreign terrain. He especially likes the soft look in the shorter boy's eyes when he lets a smile out, when he giggles at Chanyeol's misfortune.

He has a fleeting memory of Jongdae pleading with him, asking for Baekhyun's protection. Chanyeol knows now that he'd made the right choice; he doesn't want to imagine anyone making Baekhyun's smile fall. 

"I'm trying," Chanyeol wheezes out. He looks up only to notice that Baekhyun is even farther away now. He skated away from him. Chanyeol feels a little offended, slightly betrayed, and he sets his jaw as he focuses on making his way to the smaller boy. 

"That's not it," Baekhyun points out. No , Chanyeol thinks glumly, ignoring the way his knees are still quaking, body completely off balance. It shouldn't be this hard.  

"Loosen your knees. You're not standing, you're gliding," Baekhyun's voice is firm, and Chanyeol feels his stomach churn at the sound of it. He's a good teacher, though Chanyeol's legs feel a little more like jelly than before. "Let the ice do the work for you." 

"Let the ice do the work for me?" Chanyeol repeats and he stands a little taller, unbending his knees. His balance is almost immediately improved and suddenly he thinks he might be able to stand here, stationary, as long as he needs to. 

"See?" Baekhyun points out, smile smug and arms poised at his hips. 

Chanyeol feels like a fool, but he doesn't really mind, not when Baekhyun is looking at him like that. Something about it makes his stomach twist even more, and he's a little scared by it, frankly. 

"Okay," Baekhyun says, looking down at his watch. "Let's do . . . fifteen minutes of falling." 

Chanyeol stares back, unamused at whatever joke Baekhyun is trying to pull. He can't possibly try to make Chanyeol believe that falling is a skating move, that he needs to learn that. 

"Falling?" he asks incredulously. Baekhyun nods, suddenly leaning down to stretch until he holds his skates easily in his hands, entire body bent over. Chanyeol wonders if Baekhyun has any spine at all in order to do that so quickly, so easily. 

"Yeah, falling.Try to move. And when you fall, land on your or sides," Baekhyun explains from his hunched position. He unfolds himself then, slowly, taking deep breaths. "I'm going to practice my routine. You just focus on not breaking any bones for the next fifteen minutes. Remember: and sides." 

Chanyeol doesn't want to question his teacher's methods, but he also doesn't want to think about the nasty bruises he might come out of this fifteen minutes with, so he speaks up. 

"Why do I need to . . . learn that? Isn't it just instinctive to fall on your ?" 

"Maybe in football. But you're not really sliding over a slick, unpredictable surface in football, either. It's tricky, and people break bones if they don't know how to recenter themselves when they slip." 

Chanyeol stares into his eyes for a split second, noticing something dark in them, something unexpected. He suddenly realizes that Baekhyun's probably broken a bone or two, and he nods a little, conceding to the allotted fall time. 

Then Baekhyun is off, legs pushing him forward so quickly and efficiently that Chanyeol can barely blink before he's on the other side of the rink. He watches quietly as Baekhyun clicks something on his phone and moves to the center of the rink, getting into starting position. The music is slow, calming, therapeutic almost, and Chanyeol feels immersed in Baekhyun's every facial expression, in every soft gesture his long fingers trace.

Chanyeol has no idea what the shorter boy's doing, but he stares in awe as Baekhyun completes jump after jump, legs extending smoothly to the increasingly intense piano music in the background.

The taller completely forgets that he's supposed to be falling and catching himself, but he can't help but get lost in the precise turns, the graceful spins. Baekhyun turns to look at Chanyeol, something unrecognizable on his face, before he pulls his left leg behind him, brings it up to his head, and arches his back to meet it. 

Chanyeol is a little amazed, to say the least. Maybe he should start watching the figure skating portion of the winter Olympics. 

He's not quite sure how he knows, he just does, that the music is reaching its end, that soon Baekhyun will do something incredible. He gulps in anticipation, watching Baekhyun take little hops across the ice, strong legs meeting surface effortlessly. There's a small, almost proud smile across his face now. Then Baekhyun's tongue peeks out, his lips, and Chanyeol knows that a jump is coming. 

He pushes off, legs extending before he's hitting the ice again and forcing himself into another jump, spinning and spinning and spinning and --

Baekhyun hits the ice hard -- on the , Chanyeol notices -- and he hears mumbled frustrations from across the rink. He wants to go and check on Baekhyun, wants to skate over and help him up, but he's at his limit with just standing, so he watches on, worried. It's not the first time Baekhyun's fallen, though, and he sighs as he pushes himself back to his feet. 

Looking across the ice, he notices Chanyeol's disappointed look, and it stabs him somewhere in the gut. He'd gotten cocky, had felt proud, knowing that Chanyeol was fascinated with his every move, and it had cost him. He feels embarrassed heat flooding to his cheeks and he wills it away, choosing to stare Chanyeol down instead.

"Like I said, fall!"

Chanyeol nods vehemently and tears his eyes away, inching forward with wobbly legs and outstretched arms. 

Baekhyun sighs again and skates back towards Chanyeol, not failing to notice the way the dark haired boy's eyes drift over to him warily, checking for any injuries. It sets a flame alight in Baekhyun's chest for a brief second, thinking of someone other than his mom, dad, and Jongdae being concerned for him. Chanyeol looks away as quickly as he'd started, though, and Baekhyun ignores the disappointment ringing through his mind. 

-- 

It turns out that Baekhyun had known Chanyeol's face that day in the courtyard because they have a class together -- psychology at 10 a.m. Wednesdays and Fridays.

Baekhyun doesn't actually make this discovery until he's pulled out of a daydream by an unfamiliar, gangly boy taking the seat next to his. No one ever sits on his right in this class -- ever. He looks up, shocked, and meets Chanyeol's crinkling brown eyes and dimples. 

Before he can say anything, the boy is completely settled in his seat. Baekhyun notes somewhere in the back of his mind that Chanyeol smells like cologne and lotion -- an odd combo, but Baekhyun can't judge him for being moisturized, can he? 

"Hey," Chanyeol says brightly. He searches for his notebook in his backpack, leaning practically onto Baekhyun in order to do it. Baekhyun smells the cologne stronger now, feels the drop in his stomach when Chanyeol looks up, eyes only inches away, notebook in hand. 

"Why are you sitting here?" Baekhyun asks doubtfully.

It's not that he's mad, he just can't imagine Chanyeol wanting to be around him outside of the rink. He's not popular and definitely not funny enough to entertain him.

"We can't be friends?" Chanyeol asks, eyes droopy and pitiful. Baekhyun doesn't want to sound eager and definitely doesn't want to give off the impression that he's looking for friends in the football team, so he says nothing. 

Remaining silent, highlighter in hand, he pretends to be annotating, if only to avoid Chanyeol's question. He can feel Chanyeol's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head, but he can't bring himself to say anything to confirm or deny their friendship. 

He doesn't want to get close to him. One day, Chanyeol will do something to prove that he's like the rest, and Baekhyun will only be let down more. If they're friends, then Baekhyun will have to spend time around the football team, anxiety and fear constantly raging. He'd gotten comfortable enough near Chanyeol, he supposes, but he doesn't want to open a door he can't shut. 

Their professor walks in, much to Baekhyun's relief, and he feels Chanyeol's eyes move away from him at last. He takes a deep breath, ignoring his rampant thoughts, and instead focusing on the way Chanyeol spins his pencil easily between long fingers.  

--

He's walking to class hurriedly, pulling his school uniform tie into place as the morning announcements blast out over the speakers. He's running late, he knows it, and he's so goddamn nervous to make an idiot of himself when he walks in. 

He sees it -- his classroom -- and sprints towards the door, but then he feels a rough hand yanking him back. He's caught off guard and he tumbles onto the floor, hitting the gray linoleum with a resounding bang. Surely, his teacher should hear this and come check on him. But his teacher doesn't -- at least not in time, before he feels a rough kick jab at his ribs. 

He cries out in pain, but it only seems to stir them on, a particularly large boy laughing out, "He skates like a girl and cries like a ." 

The others hoot and holler at this, thoroughly entertained, and Baekhyun feels rough fingers lace through his hair. He's pulled up to a standing position through the grip on his head, and now his throat is in a vice-like grip. He can't scream now, not even if he wanted to, because there's no air crawling up his windpipe. 

"What? You can't run away? Legs tired?" 

Baekhyun knows what comes next will be awful, so he braces himself, focuses on the faint blackness in the corners of his vision instead. 

"Is it because of practice? That's what you call it, right? It's just teaching you to be gay. You're probably just ing guys all night." 

Something wet hits his face -- spit, he thinks -- and he cringes a little, shaking his head violently against the hands holding it in place. He opens his mouth again, searching for air. 

Then he feels himself start to black out little by little, the boys snickering and landing a few weak punches on his stomach, just to make him dry heave. 

He can feel himself coming to his senses, even as the blackness creeps in, and spots of white light blurring his vision. He looks one last time at the boy holding his hair as it fades, sharp jaw line and black hair almost familiar, in a foreboding, terrifying way. 

Baekhyun shoots up in bed, gasping, hands wrapped around his own throat. He sputters a little, air finally flooding into his lungs, and he forces himself tp close his eyes for a split second. He'd been doing so well. 

He slips out of bed softly, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, and moves to sit by the window, just to breathe a little. He hadn't had a dream like that in almost two weeks. He'd thought he was doing better, was finally getting over the abuse he'd suffered in high school, but there were still times like tonight when they'd reappear in dream form. 

They were always abstract, never based off of something he'd experienced specifically, but more of a mash-up of all the different times he'd been confronted, all the different ways they made him hurt. But something about this one was odd; towards the end, he'd recognized a sliver of a face. A sharp jawline, soft black hair, something wholly familiar, but ultimately unknown.

Baekhyun is shaky and sweaty, but relatively composed now, heart finally slowing to a decent pace. He looks across the room to Jongdae -- who has always been a heavy sleeper -- and is comforted by the lump of blankets he sees. He can hear steady breathing from the boy and he focuses on matching his with it. 

Calm down calm down calm down. You're fine. It's not high school; there's no one touching you, no one hurting you. Jongdae is right there. Calm down. 

He pads back to the bed, regretfully noticing that it's only 3 a.m., and focuses hard on getting back to sleep.

Reflecting on the days events, his mind trails to Chanyeol's big smile and long legs, to the way he'd slid into the seat as if he was Baekhyun's best friend. That's when it hits him -- the jaw, the hair. It's Chanyeol. His brain is playing tricks on him, visualizing his fears, and he shivers. 

It's a lie; Chanyeol has never hurt you. Your brain is being stupid, like always. Sleep. 

That night, covered in blankets and a sheen of sweat, he repeats in mentally like a mantra: calm down, calm down, calm down. 

The darkness encompasses him again, this time out of sheer exhaustion, and he falls asleep with the partial image of the tall boy's face burned into his mind, as if his subconscious is warning him of something he can't quite put his finger on. 

-- 

Jongdae notices that something is wrong with Baekhyun the second he wakes up -- the boy is frowning in his sleep, bangs plastered across his forehead in sweat. He sighs in disappointment, heart aching. He knows Baekhyun well enough to recognize that following each nightmare, he breaks out in a fever, as if his brain is trying to purge the memories through physical pain.

"Baekhyun," Jongdae stirs him awake as gently as possible.

Baekhyun gasps a little and looks around wildly before his brown eyes focus in on Jongdae, face relaxing immediately. 

"Hey, Dae," he rasps out, sitting up suddenly and shaking his aching head from side to side. 

"You okay?" Jongdae asks, but he knows the answer. Baekhyun knows he knows, and so he shrugs instead of answering. Then he's on his feet, headed toward the bathroom to clean up. He can't let the fever get the best of him, can't let Jongdae worry over something as stupid as what had happened last night. 

"I'm going to the cafe on east campus. I need coffee," a throbbing in his head punctuates his every word. "You want anything?" 

Jongdae shakes his head, no, and watches Baekhyun get ready. He's rushing, hands shaking a little, an obvious sign that he never really slept last night. Baekhyun's face is clean and teeth are brushed quickly, body wrapped in a warm coat and scarf. He's heading out the door, smiling a fake smile to Jongdae before his roommate can say a word to stop him. 

When Baekhyun is embarrassed and headstrong, there's not much Jongdae can do. He's learned to just stay at home, waiting for the moment when Baekhyun finally collapses into sleep, into sickness, and allows himself to relax. 

Baekhyun trudges across campus with determination. He wants a chai latte, and that's that. There's nothing like waking up with a nightmare induced fever than going into the early morning cold, searching for coffee. It's not that he wants to distract himself from the thought of the dream, really, he just wants coffee. 

He pushes past the door of the coffee shop, bell jingling behind him, and takes in the mass of people already there. Most are girls, since east campus is closest to the girls housing, and Baekhyun sighs a bit in relief. 

In high school, most girls had been accepting of his sport, a few going so far as to say that it was cool. Some didn't have an opinion -- or at least didn't make their opinion known -- and none of them had ever grabbed him by the throat. It's understandable why he'd choose this particular shop, even though it's quite a walk from his side of campus, he thinks. 

Which is why seeing Chanyeol approaching the cafe shocks him so much. Suddenly, he's back in the dream, a long hand closing around his throat and holding him up. He's shaking violently now, and it intensifies when the tall boy pushes the door open with a slight yawn. Chanyeol's in sweatpants and a sweaty t-shirt, obviously coming back from a workout or something.

Baekhyun contemplates how much he needs this coffee. He'd come because coffee kept him awake, kept him from dreaming, but now? It might be better to go home and sleep, no matter the nightmares that unfold behind his eyelids.

He's still debating when the tall boy moves in line behind him, wide smile gleaming in the golden sunshine of the early morning. It's a beautiful smile, but something about seeing Chanyeol's face, watching his long fingers remove earbuds, sends him back to a place of fright, of clawing desperation. He doesn't want to black out; he wants to breathe.

"Baekhyun! You're here for breakfast? I love the --" 

Baekhyun turns away from him, ignoring the bile rising in his throat, the uncontrollable fidgeting of his hands. He knows he's overreacting, is completely positive than Chanyeol has never touched a hair on his head, but there seems to be a disconnect between his body and logic at the moment.

He's so, so scared. 

"Baekhyun? You okay?" Chanyeol asks softly, concerned. Baekhyun closes his eyes, feeling a little dizzy. He should've slept more. He feels weak and stupid and pathetic right now. He's acting like a baby, on the verge of tears, over someone who'd never done him any wrong. 

Without a response, Chanyeol takes a chance and reaches out slowly. His fingers only barely brush Baekhyun's upper arm before the shorter boy is jumping away, a strangled cry slipping into the silent air of the coffee shop, as if he's been burned. 

They stare at each other in shock. Baekhyun's eyes are a dark brown and they're clouded with fear. Chanyeol takes a moment, tries to decipher what Baekhyun's thinking to no avail.

And then Baekhyun moves silently around him, pushing his way back out into the wind, away from the cozy shop, away from the confused boy. He doesn't think he can handle it right now -- he'd felt way too close to passing out back there. 

Chanyeol swallows a lump in his throat. He can't stop thinking about the promise he'd made -- a promise to protect Baekhyun. And now he's the one who hurts Baekhyun, though he can't think of a reason why. 

He replays the frightened look in Baekhyun's eyes, the way he'd immediately scurried away from Chanyeol's touch. He feels a little sick to his stomach, too. 

--

chapter 2 is done! woohoo!!! it's a little angsty.....but u guys need bbh's backstory.....srry 

i hope this is ok? i love u all ?

subscribe..comment..upvote..pls lol 

goodbye and goodnight its 10pm but it's a friday and im gnna go PASS TF OUT! BYE love u