The second Monday of April, a quarter past ten in the morning. Byun Baekhyun glances impatiently up at the clock in the studio of the EXO modeling agency, then back at the empty seat across the table. Sunlight streams through the windows along the walls of the conference room, but the soft glow of natural light clashes with the bright, artificial white lights shining down from the ceiling. Overall, combined with the dark tables and chairs, it creates an odd, unpleasant effect, and Baekhyun’s eyes hurt slightly from staring excessively around the room.

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Please wait a few minutes, the agent had told him, bowing and nodding slightly every few seconds as he pushed Baekhyun into the chair. The director will be with you as soon as possible. That had been half an hour ago, and as Baekhyun drums his fingers impatiently against the tabletop, he wonders if a few minutes means forever in the agency or if the director doesn’t want to see him. He suspects the latter.

At last, the door of the conference rooms opens, and a tall man in a suit walks in. Baekhyun stands up immediately, giving him a 90-degree bow and a meek greeting, "Hello, sir."

The man in the suit looks over Baekhyun with an air of boredom, sighing and frowning as if he’d rather be somewhere else. Baekhyun has a personal system of classifying the types of directors he works with, and this one immediately falls under the category of insolent and most definitely not fun to work for. He ignores the skeptic look the director gives him and concentrates on the space behind the director in an attempt to look like he’s actually watching said man. He’s worked for people like this before. He can handle this despite the fact that the director had him wait half an hour for their appointment.

“You’re Byun Baekhyun, right?”

Still staring at the space behind the director, Baekhyun nods. The director walks closer, still scrutinizing Baekhyun, then finally says derisively, “Good-looking, but too short.”

Baekhyun finally focuses on the director’s face and suppresses the urge to recoil in surprise. He hadn’t expected the director to look this fierce despite his comments. Forcing a smile on his face, Baekhyun nods slightly and agrees. “I know.”

“So why did you come here?” the director asks. There’s a hint of anger in his voice as he stops walking forward and merely glowers at Baekhyun. “I don’t appreciate my time being wasted.”

To be quite honest, Baekhyun has gotten sick and tired of explaining to directors over the years, but nevertheless, he keeps the smile on his face and nods agreeably. “I’m not wasting your time. I promise. Director-sshi, don’t you have other positions in your company? You can’t possibly only hire models. I’m not applying to be a model. What about the people you need for commercials and advertisements? You don’t need someone tall for those, do you?”

A pause. Baekhyun keeps his expression as friendly as possible while the director frowns some more and looks thoughtfully off into the distance, actually paying attention for once. Then, “The only spot I’ve got open for now are the shampoo commercials. You have nice-looking hair. You up for filming some shampoo commercials?”

Baekhyun winces.

What Baekhyun doesn’t understand is why he, a guy, has to flip his hair around for the filming. Normal shampoo commercials are fine for him. He doesn’t mind washing his hair with foam and rinsing it and smiling into the camera as he tries not to get shampoo into his eyes. But when the director tells him to stand there and do a hair flip, Baekhyun begins to regret his decision to join the agency.

The moment they step into the filming studio, the director drops his annoyed attitude and begins feverishly explaining the commercial to Baekhyun, and that it’s not a shampoo commercial in which you wash your hair and rinse it, because seriously, no one really ever wants to watch that and you’re a bit too skinny anyway to go around shirtless. All you have to do is talk about how you use the shampoo, flaunt off your looks, and execute a beautiful hair flip. Simple, right?

It doesn’t help that there’s a crowd around the set, and Baekhyun swears he recognizes a few of the famous EXO models he’s always seen on magazines and posters. He glances down at the script in his hands, memorizing rapidly as he tries to ignore the pairs of eyes trained on him. Focus, he tells himself as his hands tremble. They’re all watching him, and it’s unnerving because he can literally feel the weight of the gazes.

The lights flash on and Baekhyun relaxes, handing his script to a coordinator as the set becomes quiet. He feels a small thrill of excitement build up from within — this is where he belongs, shining under the lights for the entire world to see.

“EXO shampoo,” he says brightly, looking directly at the camera and smiling as cheerfully as he can while holding up a fluorescent pink shampoo bottle. It’s surprisingly heavy and Baekhyun begins to sweat slightly in the hot lights. “I use it because I know what’s good for my hair, and EXO shampoo is the best. Do you have dry, damaged hair? Or perhaps you’d like your hair care to become even more intensive and healthy? EXO shampoo is the perfect choice, and I would know.”

At this point Baekhyun winks at the camera and takes a breath. The inevitable has come. He smiles one more time at the camera then angles his head slightly to the left, grimacing inwardly at how ridiculous he must look like at the moment. In a quick flourish, he turns his head so that his hair whips to the right.

“And cut,” the director says and the lights turn off, leaving Baekhyun blinking out spots in his vision at the sudden change in brightness. The moment the lights disappear, a feeling somewhat akin to embarrassment begins to curl in Baekhyun’s stomach and he sets down the shampoo bottle, not daring to look up at the crowd gathered around the set. What had he just done? Hair flipping. He’s never going to be socially accepted by others again. Hair flipping.

“Almost, Baekhyun-sshi,” the director shouts, hat askew as he leaps up energetically and begins pacing back and forth, obviously excited by the filming. “Very good, but your hair flip needs to be a bit more authentic. Remember, hair flipping is an art. You have to go with the flow and lose yourself in the beauty and the moment of the flip. It has to look perfect—”

Someone in the crowd snickers. Baekhyun glares down at his feet, heat rising in his cheeks, wishing that the ground will somehow swallow him up.

“Hey. That was a pretty authentic hair flip you did back there, if you ask me.”

Baekhyun spins around, ready to blurt out a witty retort, but the tall man standing beside him seems nothing but sympathetic, and there’s no malice in his tone as he nods at Baekhyun.

“Yeah?” Baekhyun finally says, but he keeps his voice neutral; doesn’t snap at the man. “Is that meant to be a compliment?”

“Depends on how you see it,” the man responds cheerily, and Baekhyun realizes with a start that he looks familiar: curly hair, bright expression, adorable ears and perfect teeth. He can’t remember how many times he has seen this face on advertisements and covers of magazines all over the city. Of course.

“I’m Park Chanyeol,” the man continues, but Baekhyun has already figured that out. Park Chanyeol. The famous model, face of the EXO modeling agency along with Wu Yifan and Kim Jongin. Thought to be one of the top models in the industry — heck, all of EXO’s models are thought to be top in the industry, Baekhyun reflects as he takes Chanyeol’s proffered hand and shakes it.   

“Byun Baekhyun,” he replies, reluctantly but completely aware of how Chanyeol’s hand completely dwarfs his. Tall people and their large hands — Baekhyun doesn’t need another reason to feel even shorter.

“You a model?” Chanyeol releases his grasp but his fingers linger, lightly dragging against Baekhyun’s fingertips as their hands part.

“Do I look like one?” Baekhyun asks. He’s had conversations like this before. They amuse him, because people never stop to consider that he’s obviously too short to be a model.

Hesitation, as Chanyeol looks him over. “No.”

“Exactly.”

The hint of a smile graces the edges of Chanyeol’s lips and he looks at Baekhyun with a new respect in his expression. However, he merely comments, “But you must've had a lot of practice, at least for commercials and such. It looks natural when you’re under the lights and in front of the camera.”

“As natural as anyone can look while promoting pink EXO shampoo and doing hair flips.”

“True.” Chanyeol’s smile becomes more noticeable, the corners of his mouth stretching out as he grins, and although they haven’t said anything beyond what can be considered as polite small talk between strangers, Baekhyun knows he has somehow made a friend.

It feels less ridiculous and humiliating to film commercials and flip his hair around after Baekhyun gets the hang of the director’s requests and learns the limits of what he should do and what he shouldn’t. Still, it’s a relief when the director moves him on to filming advertisements for other products because there’s only so much Baekhyun can stand when his face begins appearing all over the city, repeating the same lines over and over again and making that idiotic expression when he flips his hair.

Chanyeol laughs when Baekhyun takes a break from filming and complains about his makeup—they really shouldn’t make a guy wear so much eyeliner, he protests, although to be quite honest, he doesn’t mind as much as he needs something to talk to Chanyeol about.

Chanyeol doesn’t do much modeling over the summer but as autumn approaches his frame begins to become noticeably thinner, even more than he usually is. A haggard look appears in his eyes and stays there as the weeks pass by. Preparing for the runway is what the agency calls it, but personally, Baekhyun thinks that ruining yourself is a more apt term.

There are four categories of models in the EXO agency; at least, that is how Baekhyun classifies them, after studying all the models carefully during a particularly boring summer’s afternoon. There are models like Kim Jongin, who ooze seduction with every breath they take, turning simple gazes into smoldering stares. There are models like Huang Zitao who go for the badass boy concept, heavily laden with destructive capabilities yet somehow balancing it with a touch of vulnerability. There are models like Wu Yifan, cold and haughty on camera and the runway, and the strangest thing is, even off-camera and without makeup, they still manage to stick to their aloof look no matter how nice their personalities are (although Baekhyun suspects Yifan only looks like this because of his -face). Oops.

The last category comprises of only one person, because Baekhyun cannot think of anyone else who looks so normal yet model-like on the runway like Park Chanyeol. Models are meant to be serious, to stare out in the distance with decidedly enigmatic expressions, but every time Chanyeol walks down the runway, there’s always a trace of amusement on his face somewhere, whether on his lips or in his eyes, as if everything is a friendly joke meant to be shared with the crowd. And what’s more, he manages to pull of the professionalism and aloofness of a model while looking natural, as if he’s just a normal person given the chance to wear fancy, fashionable clothing. Loveable, almost. Approachable, yet untouchable. Critics are obsessed with him and laud him with praise so lavish that it sounds like they took a thesaurus and threw all the synonyms for the word good together into a sentence.   

Baekhyun doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how Chanyeol manages to exude on the runway a personality so contradictory yet somehow so naturally and…well, it’s perfect. And what’s even more confusing is why Chanyeol even bothers to talk to Baekhyun when he has all these other famous models in the agency to be with. After that first meeting, he had come to understand that for some strange reason, they had become friends, but he hadn’t expected Chanyeol to actually stick with him, to the point of watching every commercial filming Baekhyun took part in.

Funny thing is, sometimes when he’s filming and standing under the bright, hot, flashing lights in the studio, Baekhyun swears he feels a gaze boring into his skin, but when he looks up after the camera stops recording, Chanyeol is always looking somewhere else.

"You're different," Chanyeol suddenly announces in the middle of a filming break one day, "You're not like the others."

Baekhyun waits for him to continue, but when Chanyeol doesn't say anything else, Baekhyun asks, "Why?" 

Chanyeol doesn't really answer; he merely smiles and shakes his head as if there's nothing else for him to say.  It's a slightly secretive smile, as if the taller man is hiding something. Baekhyun almost opens his mouth to prod further for a response, but he suddenly realizes he doesn’t really want to know the answer, partly because there’s something about Chanyeol’s friendship towards him, partly because he’s not entirely sure what he feels.

“Tiffany of SNSD. Are you kidding me?”

Chanyeol sounds as amazed as he looks as he snatches the paper from Baekhyun’s hands and peers at the text, his eyes widening with each passing second. “Holy ,” he breathes as he hands Baekhyun the paper back with trembling hands. “You got yourself a deal to do a commercial with Tiffany of SNSD. SNSD. That’s like, the best female modeling agency out there. And Tiffany is one of the best. Lucky you.”

“It can’t be that much of a big deal,” Baekhyun protests, but Chanyeol shakes his head fervently.

“Not a big deal? These girls earn almost twice as much as we do. They’re the stars of the female modeling world. EXO might be at the top for guy models, but SNSD is actually more popular than we are.” He chuckles dryly and yawns.

No one ever looks attractive yawning, and that’s a given, but there’s something about Chanyeol’s expression as his mouth hangs ajar and his eyes squeeze together that’s strangely pleasing to watch. At least, that’s what Baekhyun thinks before he realizes that Chanyeol yawning in the middle of the day means that he’s been staying up again and depriving himself of sleep, apparently in some way to get in the role for his next photoshoot.  

“You’ve been staying up again,” he says accusingly as Chanyeol stifles another yawn. How did he miss the obvious bags around his eyes before? “How many times do I have to tell you this? Make-up and digital editing will do the job. You don’t have to look like a half-starved zombie to create the effect.”

“Make-up and photo editing can’t create that look if the focus isn’t completely on my face,” Chanyeol responds. “You can’t achieve everything with them.”

“What happened to your happy, cheerful concept? What about all the praise critics have given you for your natural look?”

“Overrated,” is what Chanyeol says dismissively as he blinks wearily and rubs his eyes. “The damn concept is completely overrated. That’s modeling for you. One moment everyone loves the way you walk and the next they’re clamoring for a change.” He laughs softly, tiredly, then shakes his head. “Enough about me. Come on, Baekhyun-ah. I still can’t get over the fact that you got an offer to do a commercial with Tiffany.”

Baekhyun forces a smile. Corners of mouth go up. Lips stretch over teeth, and cheeks bunch together under his eyes. Vision diminishes as his eyes disappear into crescents. Eye smile. A smile isn’t sincere unless the eyes also smile.

He doesn’t say anything.

“And cut. Let’s take a break. Good work, everyone.”

Tiffany bows to Baekhyun and smiles, which Baekhyun returns as he takes out a bottle of water and drinks greedily, thirsty after the long hours rehearsing and filming under the hot glare of the lights. Before he can do anything else, however, Chanyeol appears excitedly and nearly knocks Baekhyun over by accident as he pushes past. “Tiffany-sshi!”

Baekhyun watches with amusement as Chanyeol bows to the SNSD model, who laughs in surprise. “Park Chanyeol-sshi? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Baekhyun doesn’t hear Chanyeol’s reply because he suddenly realizes that the bright, excited light in Chanyeol’s eyes is more feverish than thrilled and that he’s trembling visibly—subtly, but still visibly. He waits until Chanyeol’s done talking to Tiffany, then drags the model away before the director can call for the break to end.

“You need to stop this. This entire starving yourself thing. This entire not getting any sleep thing. Is modeling more important than staying healthy?”

“I’m fine. I’m doing great right now.”

“It’s not healthy. You’re not healthy.”

“I’m a healthy person,” Chanyeol waves dismissively and sways slightly as he missteps and loses his balance. “I’m fine. I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs. I’m a healthy person.” As if repeating it will make it true.

“Except you’re not,” Baekhyun says quietly, taking Chanyeol’s hand and steadying him.

“Except I’m not,” Chanyeol agrees, still trembling, and his laugh is the most heartbreaking thing Baekhyun has ever heard in his life, because it sounds so wrong.

Wrong suddenly becomes a familiar feeling all too quickly. Wrong is what Baekhyun thinks when he stares down at the new diet plan the director s hurriedly into his hands on the way to work with the rushed new concept in, Baekhyun-sshi. Try looking a little more starved and unearthly okay? Let’s make those commercials a bit more artistic. Self-destructive. Model-like.

It doesn’t stop there. Wrong is what Baekhyun feels when he stands in front of the camera and under the lights and for the first time in his life, a burning thought that he doesn’t belong makes its way through his mind and he nearly breaks down crying because he’s never felt that way before, never felt that the entire world’s against him when he’s filming, not even when he was filming those stupid shampoo commercials and embarrassing himself with all those hair flips. Wrong is when Baekhyun finds himself losing weight at a frightening pace, waking up each day feeling weaker and weaker as he experiences the terror of losing control, of trembling with every step because it hurts to walk when he can barely support himself with his feet.

Wrong is also reflected in Chanyeol’s increasingly haggard look, how he looks like he hasn’t eaten anything or slept for the past month. He hides it well during shows and photoshoots, always smiling cheerily when asked if he’s okay and replying that yes, he’s fine, no need to ask. But there are telltale signs: when Chanyeol’s hands shake as he takes Baekhyun’s hand and asks him to help him stand up because he doesn’t feel well all of a sudden, when Chanyeol can barely pay attention to the director because he can barely keep conscious, when Chanyeol’s posture slumps when he thinks no one notices and he spends minutes hunched over in fatigue and what Baekhyun is pretty sure is pain.

Wrong. Everything is all wrong.

So when Chanyeol suddenly kisses him in the middle of a filming break, desperation laced in his actions, neither one of them completely aware of what they’re doing, Baekhyun isn’t even surprised because he realizes that the sensation of Chanyeol’s lips pressed against his is the only thing that feels right in the midst of all the wrong.

Somewhere between hazy days spent trying to stay awake and filming in the studio half-starving and sleep deprived, Baekhyun finds himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, too exhausted and drained to feel even the slightest trace of horror as he gazes at his figure. Sharp bones sticking out of his skin. Eyes too big for his face because the rest of his face has been reduced to nothing but a skeleton. A dull, lethargic expression in his eyes. Make-up and Photoshop really do wonders in hiding imperfections.

He smiles without any trace of amusement—so much for not being model-like enough. But then, this is what the world of advertising is about: you go with the flow, you go with what others want, or you lose. It doesn’t matter if you end up gaunt and broken, with bloodshot eyes and hours spent dry heaving over the toilet at some unearthly time in the morning on the cold tiles, because what the critics want, you give. A diet and exercise aren’t always enough to keep thin; beauty always comes with a price.

Baekhyun isn’t quite sure if beauty defines his figure anymore, but of course, in the world of modeling and advertisements, beauty means emaciated to the point of fading into nothing, looking like a zombie all day long and ruining yourself.

He hasn’t spoken to Chanyeol since the kiss, or made any eye contact with him, for that matter. A jolt runs through Baekhyun every time he sees the tall model, but they tend to avoid each other whenever they find themselves in the same room. It’s not that Baekhyun minds, because he doesn’t know himself what he’ll do if he talks to Chanyeol again. He isn’t sure what he feels, not when he can’t even stay awake and concentrate most of the day, too exhausted to even form a single coherent thought.

It takes Baekhyun four months after everything begins going wrong to reach a breaking point. It takes a collapse and waking up in the hospital with tubes and needles stuck in his arm to make him realize that he can’t go on like this, because he’s going to kill himself like this. He finds the director as soon as he’s discharged from the hospital and says firmly, without any hint of hesitation, “I quit.”

“Pardon?”

“I quit. I’m done with this modeling for advertisements and filming commercials.”

The director watches Baekhyun with a hint of amusement in his expression, which only infuriates Baekhyun even more, because it means that the director knows something that Baekhyun doesn’t, that the director is confident that he won’t actually quit. “I seem to recall that you were the one who was quite adamant about joining EXO.”

“I joined to film and become a face for advertisement, not to fall under the modeling concept and have you tell me to slowly kill myself,” Baekhyun grits out, clenching his hands into fists, frustrated by the director’s nonchalant tone. Insolent and most definitely not fun to work for; he remembers his impression of the director when they first met. “I told you — I’m not a model. So stop prepping me up like one. Stop forcing me to become even thinner and to fit into 'model clothing'. That’s not my job. My job is to entertain, to lend your commercials and posters a personality. It doesn’t matter if I don’t look self-destructive and half-dead like your models. This isn’t what I applied for.”

The director merely smirks and turns away, because “Are you sure you can quit?”

Baekhyun freezes, not having expected the question. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not talking about if I’ll let you quit. I’m talking about if you will let yourself quit. Where will you go afterwards? What will you do?”

The last time Baekhyun cried was in elementary school, when a bully had pushed him off the slide and he had fallen on the ground, bringing a immediate rush of tears to his eyes at the sudden shock and pain. He hasn’t cried since, but as Baekhyun thinks over the director’s words, his vision blurs and something suspiciously wet clings to his eyelashes when he blinks.

“So I expect you won’t quit, right?” The director’s words are soft and calm, but Baekhyun has never heard anything so hurtful and destructive.

He runs away, if only to get rid of the director’s voice echoing in his mind.

Chanyeol rounds the corner the same time as Baekhyun does and the two of them almost collide, Baekhyun pulling away just in time to avoid a full-on collision. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Baekhyun begins to walk off, only to be stopped when Chanyeol catches his arm and drags him back. “What’s wrong? You look devastated.”

It’s the first time they’ve talked to each other for weeks and weeks. Baekhyun tries to keep nonchalant despite the emotions that are so overwhelming he doesn’t even know what to feel anymore, but all that comes out is a strangled sob as he throws his arms around Chanyeol and clings to him, seeking comfort in the other’s embrace. After a moment, Chanyeol’s arms wind hesitantly around him and Baekhyun buries his face into Chanyeol’s chest, for once feeling glad that his height makes Chanyeol feel steady enough for him to lean on for support.

“Stop this,” he finally says once he’s regained enough coherency to step back and feel slightly ashamed for throwing himself at Chanyeol. “Why do you keep on ruining yourself like this? Stop this modeling thing and get a normal life. Don’t kill yourself with this.”

Chanyeol doesn’t look confused at his statement, just asks, “What happened?”

“I told the director that I’m quitting.” Baekhyun takes a deep breath as he feels the tears well up in his eyes again. “I told him that I can’t stand this anymore. That I can’t go on slowly killing myself because this is destroying me. My health. Everything. And it applies to you too. Stop this before it’s too late.”

“You’re quitting?”

Quitting. Leaving the camera and the posters and advertisements with his face on them pasted all over the city. Never again feeling the rush of excitement under the lights and never again hearing the shouts of the director as he runs through his script and poses for photos. Forsaking what he’s meant for. What Baekhyun does is his addiction, his life, even if it’s destroying him bit by bit. He hates himself for this, but this is where he belongs, the only place where he has ever felt at home. Even if it’s harmful to his health, even if he dies young, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Baekhyun truly breaks down this time, his words escaping his mouth in a whimper as he finally lets himself cry his heart out because he’s so lost and confused. “No. I can’t.”

Chanyeol hugs him again, his hair gently as he whispers, “Then you understand why I can’t either.”

And Baekhyun does.

Baekhyun doesn’t feel like going back to his apartment, so Chanyeol convinces him to go home with him, and Baekhyun agrees, although he’s not completely sure why, but being with Chanyeol and talking with him again feels like a weight he didn’t know had existed has been taken off his shoulders.

Chanyeol’s apartment is somewhere at the quiet edge of the city, a place where no one would ever think a top model would live, because it’s so secluded and unknown. Baekhyun likes the place—it’s elegant in a calm way, with no fancy, ridiculously expensive ornaments cluttering the rooms. Chanyeol leads him through the front door and Baekhyun finds himself in a spacious living room, where a couch, a television, and several comfortable-looking chairs are the only pieces of furniture he can see.

He sits on the couch while Chanyeol bustles about, cleaning up and cooking dinner. When they finish eating dinner in silence, Chanyeol carries off the plates, then returns to the couch, where they sit facing each other, still not speaking. It’s a comfortable silence, however, and Baekhyun doesn’t see a need to speak, because there’s so much they need to talk about, yet cannot express in words. Having a conversation would seem awkward.

Finally, Chanyeol speaks up, his voice rough and startling in the quiet. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun replies, “a lot better. Thanks.”

“We haven’t been talking much for the past few months, have we?” Chanyeol asks hesitantly after a pause. “We haven’t talked to each other at all, actually. Were we avoiding each other on purpose?” He asks the question so quietly that Baekhyun has the feeling that Chanyeol is asking it to himself more than he is to Baekhyun. “Were we trying to avoid each other because we didn’t know what we felt and how to explain the situation?”

“I didn’t know what to say to you,” Baekhyun confesses. “I didn’t know what to say. And I guess life got a little busy. Work got a little busy.”

“Yeah, sorry about that time during the filming break.”

Baekhyun doesn’t have to ask what Chanyeol is referring to. He takes a risk and says softly, “You don’t have to be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“Really?” A sort of determined light shines in Chanyeol's eyes and he looks at Baekhyun questioningly.

Baekhyun nods and before he can speak, Chanyeol leans forward and kisses him, slow and lingering, with a trace of tongue, but controlled, hesitant, as if Chanyeol isn’t sure if he’s doing the right thing. Baekhyun responds by pulling Chanyeol closer and returning the kiss as fervently as he can, and when they break apart they’re both flushed as Chanyeol murmurs, “I like you. A lot.”

“I know,” Baekhyun laughs breathlessly, still clinging to Chanyeol because it feels so natural to relax against the model’s embrace. “I know. I think I like you too.” He’s still laughing when Chanyeol kisses him again, relieved and happy and unable to think properly all at once. Maybe he’s found another place where he belongs, where he feels at home and like himself.

The rest of the evening is spent watching a soccer game on television together, with Chanyeol’s arm slung around Baekhyun’s shoulders as they curl up next to each other and lose themselves in the lull of a normal life, laughing at jokes and yelling at the screen whenever the opposing team scores. Tomorrow, they'll go back to their diets and methods to control their weights; tomorrow they'll go back to walking on the runway and standing in front of the camera under the flashing lights, stuck in the endless, vicious cycle of falling apart, but at least they’ve got each other to pick their broken pieces up and tape them back together again.

They fall asleep on the couch sometime around two in the morning, legs tangled together, faces pressed against each other's, and as Baekhyun drifts off, he thinks that maybe life isn’t so bad after all.

written for minwhore on lj, betaed by sunlit on lj. yay \o/