The next few days of my life are like a living hell.

Sehun turns on the television one morning and the reporter is talking about popular culture, and a picture of me lying on the ground in the change room has been enlarged in the background as he describes the odd antics of a strange Byun Baekhyun stalker.

I try to check my Tumblr, and to my surprise I actually have stuff in my inbox.

But it’s not the stuff I want. No one is telling me I’ve got a good blog, no one’s telling me they think my random rants are funny.

Oh no.

Fans of Byun Baekhyun are stalking me. I don’t know how they even know that’s my Tumblr account, but they do.

Uhm, your display picture is actually your face, Park Chanyeol.

Oh.

I am being harassed by at least half of the fandom. It’s like no one wants me here.

I am too scared to leave the apartment, instead I make Sehun run all the errands and I phone in to university to ask to do my media course via correspondence.

My friends from university have also started to de-friend me off my Facebook page.

I scroll the social media, finding messages that sting.

‘Why don’t you ing disappear?’

‘Baekhyun shouldn’t have to put up with a retard like you.’

‘Why don’t you just kill yourself!’

I haven’t spoken to Byun Baekhyun in at least a week. He’s been over a couple of times, screaming at my door. Telling me to open up so he can talk to me.

You need to talk to him, Park Awkward Chanyeol.

Don’t call me that.

Fine, just Chanyeol.

I delete my Tumblr and de-activate my Facebook account, leaving a great big gaping hole in my existence.

I should have known this was never going to work in the first place.

Chanyeol, don’t give up. Byun Baekhyun still really likes you.

But I don’t think he does. The newspapers tell a different story.

Fan after fan have recounted how he tried to get away from me, how I was scaring him. This isn’t what I remember specifically, but it’s what I’m beginning to believe.

“Chanyeol, open the door!” Sehun shouts.

“He’s there, isn’t he?” I yell back.

I think my grumpiness might be the fact that I’m the top of the fangirl’s ‘most wanted to murder’ list or a combination of Tumblr/Internet withdrawal symptoms.

Or perhaps a combination of the two.

A month has passed.

Byun Baekhyun has finally been able to breach my stronghold. He’s sitting on the bed next to me, his hand holding mine. We still sit slightly apart.

Sehun brings in tea and ramen on a little tray and shuts the door behind him.

“I can’t be with you, Baekhyun,” I mumble to him.

Byun Baekhyun shakes his head. He looks a mess. His eyeliner has not been drawn on straight, and he is pale and skinnier than before.

“Yes you can. I don’t care what people think!” Byun Baekhyun snaps.

I stifle my tears.

“But I do. I can’t handle it.”

“Try!”

Easier said than done.

Perhaps you should explain your past to him, maybe then he’ll understand.

Maybe, brain.

I sigh, looking Byun Baekhyun in the eyes. Beautiful, flawless, gorgeous Byun Baekhyun.

“I can’t try and handle it,” I begin, letting go of his hand. The tea has gone cold.

“All my life I have been called different, weird, a spastic, my mother always called me ‘special’, which I soon realised was code for retard.”

“But you’re not retarded, Chanyeol!”

“Don’t interrupt!” I bark.

Byun Baekhyun goes deadly silent.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble to him, “I’m sorry for yelling, but please just hear me out.”

Baekhyun nods.

“I didn’t have many friends at all at school, actually I didn’t have any until Sehun transferred. I mean, I was one of those kids that wasn’t attractive, I wasn’t sporty, I wasn’t sociable, I wasn't smart. I wasn’t even good at anything really.”

I take a deep breath.

“I just… I had a tough time. Sehun taught me I should always smile, but sometimes… things just got to me. My parents divorced when I was twelve, I was carted between the two houses. Soon my dad just gave up and dumped me on my mum, and she couldn’t really support us so she kicked me out when I turned nineteen.”

Byun Baekhyun has his eyes traced to the carpet, his eyes starting to water.

“I… that… family life I suppose, on top of constant bullying… well not physical bullying- no wait yes a bit of that I suppose- and emotionally… uhm, the point is it got to me and I dug myself a hole and almost… you know.” I mumble the last part.

Great, now Byun Baekhyun knows you’re special AND an emotional wreck.

“I mean…”

“You didn’t, did you?” Byun Baekhyun sounds horrified.

It’s now or never. I mean you might as well get it over with. Someone’s bound to find out anyway.

But no one knows about that.

Do you trust Byun Baekhyun?













Yes.

Yes, I trust him.

I pull up my shirt and show him the scars that line my waist, scars that I put there myself.

“I didn’t want it to be so obvious so I did it somewhere people wouldn’t see.” I finally choke out.

Byun Baekhyun stares at my damaged skin, the tears he was trying to hold in unleashed. He cuddles me and kisses my forehead.

Ten minutes later, Byun Baekhyun doesn’t say a word as he exits my bedroom. I don’t even try to stop him. Maybe now he understands?

And he does.

The next morning, Byun Baekhyun is on a chat show. Instead of calling me a crazy stalker, however, he is adamant about where I stand in his life.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Byun Baekhyun tells the audience.

A wall of gasping sounds and strangled cats as fangirls intake their necessary air.

“And I really don’t care what anyone thinks. He’s my Chanyeol. He may be a bit different, but he’s an amazing person and I love him. I don’t care how many fans I lose because I’m gay, or because I’m going out with him specifically.”

My eyes widen.

Byun Baekhyun looks right down the lens of the camera.

“Chanyeol, if you’re watching this, know that I love you. I really love you. You’ve had a rough past, yes, but you're a beautiful person, inside and out. And you deserve as much happiness as you can get. I’m coming over tonight with a few of my friends, and we’re going to put this behind us.”

Byun Baekhyun jumps off the chair with a smile, leaving a stunned reporter and audience. I can’t help but smile when I hear a wolf-whistle from one person, a lone fanboy, in the audience.

I realise just how much Byun Baekhyun means to me, in a non-stalker way.