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Flight departure for Vancouver, Canada.

Calling flight departure for Vancouver, Canada.

It is currently 12:04pm, we are calling a departure for Vancouver, Canada.

Passengers please arrive quickly and proceed as instructed.

Time was everything but just a number. It was a countdown. It was a timer. It was a limit. It was a date. It was everything but nothing. There were hours, there were minutes, there were seconds and their duty was not to be ignored. Sometimes mistreated, sometimes unnoticed, sometimes questioned. Never accepted, never happy with, people always selfishly wanted more of it when it was incapable of producing itself. Because that was one thing that could never be changed in this world. Time.

As much time that he had dusted upon his hands ever so openhandedly – nineteen year old, Byun Baekhyun had a hard time adjusting his hectic schedule to find any exception for what most people called ‘leisure’ or ‘free time’ to spare. There was never much of a minute he had waste upon things he didn’t find momentous. As he was raised by his father, he had grown to become quite the gentleman whom often spent his early mornings sipping oolong tea with his pinky winged out, afternoons sitting down reading a good book, and his evenings sorting out his never-ending button collection. There was nothing out of the ordinary with him. The perspective he had for himself was almost as sketchy as a lantern festival being held in Egypt, serving heaping platters of croquettes, along with irrelevant entertainment of go-go dancers, a bowling alley, and to top it all off, guests dressing up as exotic animals quoting Doctor Who.

He had never dealt with change well, nor did he find it suitable for any sense. He found change not only a pest, but almost like a virus that took along to finally transform back into originality.

Written on his face was an utter intolerant roar. For he had been counting for the past numerous hours, it totaled up to approximately five delays so far for his flight to London, England. Universally, it had been a frequent affair for people of his age to have travelled all across the world to have just study abroad. As much as that was customary, it had not been the reason why he had forced himself to unwillingly leave his hometown. Astoundingly, the focus – the big picture was to start anew. To have a fresh blank page of a book, to scribble messages and symbols to remember by, to vulgarly glue Polaroid photographs in. There was no beginning or ending to his adventure as he had told himself countless instances, just every new day spent with a unsullied, clear mentality.

“Seoul, Korea.” Contempt, even the way he had pronounced it sounded undeniably foreign.

The rolling wheels scratching at his ears continued to maneuver without refraining. It had been the fifty-eighth expedition he had made for the past nineteen years of his active life. The excoriating life of Byun Baekhyun was a tale to be kept secret, a novel to be sold only to the potential humans whom live long enough to be literate, and last but not least, for himself to expand, growing on without exceeding or limiting himself in the long run.

Tracking down the paths with himself in all his casual clothed glory, he finally assembled dead beat by a comfy seat he had strolled on by. If anything, Baekhyun would’ve known better if there was nothing in particular to do during his waiting time. He was offly too much of a busy body to sit down and do nothing. It was hard. While others had trouble resting or having spare time for themselves, in his mind – sitting down and doing something he ‘enjoyed’ to do almost seem like a bore.

Shortly subsequently, a tall, radiant person had sat down to the seat next to him, openly and welcomingly.

Baekhyun uninterestedly scooted over, his whole body shifting and contouring to the opposite side the second his ear drums caught the ‘thud’ that the stranger had released from the dropping of his beaten up, torn backpack.

The thing Baekhyun passionately hated would have to be noise. It was a disturbance, a nuisance as he had put when he even heard feet shuffling to enter his home. He even once had a vision that he had woken up with a mute button attached to his hand. At the end of the dream, he had conquered all – all the sounds, all the audible outputs were shut down not even known to be born at all. That had to be the cherry on top.

The young boy’s name was Park Chanyeol. He stood at a height of 185cm, a hair colour of a mixture of honey and coffee, and chocolate eyes that were quite attention grabber with their wideness and bulging at a 360 diameter at all times. He had his earphones in, his zone out and his happiness level at 10 out of 10. There wasn’t any other way to describe him over than one word – happy. For someone who seemed to be distracted, lost, and impervious – he never emerged as a dull or dim fellow. His motto in life was ‘No matter how difficult and hard something is, I will always be positive and smile like an idiot.’ He didn’t have much insecurity, he didn’t have many dislikes, there wasn’t any negativity or hate sprawled inside of him. Laid back, tree hugging and easy to please – that is the definite way to depict Park, Chanyeol.

“Where did my…Ah, there they are.” Baekhyun dangled a pair of white earphones, connecting it to the end of his Samsung Galaxy K. His posture was proper, poised, and most definitely near to be declared perfect. The small buds clicked inside his ears until he realized he shouldn’t listen to music yet or else he’d have not heard his flight being called for. Placing the device back into its rightful spot, he examined the boy beside him.

His frail face allured Baekhyun a bit. At first sight, it might’ve seemed inhuman-like. But if closely looked into his sorrowful eyes, there was depth, there was profound meaning. Baekhyun wanted to advise the boy that if he had kept rocking his head back and forth, he’d strain his neck and he would accidentally injure himself, but he didn’t know the stranger, and the boy wouldn’t exactly be able to hear his voice from the music blasting from his ears.

Chanyeol stood up from his seat as there was a thunder effect vibrating his stomach. He patted its surface firmly before skipping off to who knows where to fetch himself some grub. Wandering off almost with no sense of direction, he spotted a food area positioned off to the left of him.

Breathing intolerant to the five delays previously, Baekhyun tried to shut himself up from becoming any more annoyed or bothered with the problems the airport was pushing out. He knew for a fact that the more he would crave or want it; it’d feel longer, endless to say.  

Flight for London, England.

Calling for passengers departing to London, England.

Please hurry to obtain your seat for your departure.

Hastily, he felt daunt about to fall out of his seat. He stood up, tripping over his bag, his forehead banging to the floor. The lavender colour expanded, forming a small bruise at the top of his forehead. It was peek-able through his bangs, but other than that – wouldn’t have been noticed by a fly. Closing off the incident, he ended up straightening up after he reached for the identical knapsack taken place under the stranger’s seat. What he hadn’t brought himself to grasp was that the carrier he was currently straddling onto, wasn’t his bag.

Tucking in a strand of hair behind his elf-like ears, he made his way to the location of his exodus.

Returning to the scene of the mismatched backpack, Chanyeol was in the heap of dilemma – one hand with an iced coffee summated with a mountain of low-fat whip cream and s’mores cupcake in the other. Running his eyes along the sides of his chair, he searched up and down, crouching and standing still to properly get a patent outlook for his washed-out, ancient, and one of a kind favourite backpack. After giving up, he let his body sink into his previous seat until his eyes nipped on a strap tracing under Baekhyun’s earlier seat. Chanyeol’s fingers snatched the strap of the bag that he saw as his owns and swung it to the back of him, ambling to his assigned area.

Trucking the bag on his shoulders, Byun Baekhyun finally had arrived at his low awaited dream city London, England. Taking in all the fresh scent of the outer surroundings of him, he spread of his arms, his finger tips freezing at the icy air waving by. People in pea coats and old fashioned scarves walked by, giving him a stare or a glare due to his unusual action. With a quick bubble bursting inside of his head, he had forgotten to give his father a phone call to proclaim his safe, official arrival. With any luck, he might’ve almost not even remembered to.

Luckily, he ped his bag without any fuss. Digging deep into the bag, his mouth curved into an absurd shape; forming a very shaky, crooked contortion. “Where…where is my…” Scrunching his fists in and out, the confused vibe swarming him was causing him to swim in shark waters. He felt something brush against the side of his thin skin. The feeling of the cold temperature of the object made him snap back. “What the…Oh…Jesus Christ…” The recognition was slowly processing to his slow mind. Curse words weren’t Baekhyun’s thing unless it was a serious matter, but somehow…it was lashing out, sputtering out at an incredible speed. “, , . , …Oh, ing God’s sake…”

That’s when the strap that was formerly confined to the spaces inbetween his slim fingers was liberated.

His eyes had never bolted up, widened at any state of affairs.

It wasn’t his bag.

The bag wasn’t Baekhyun’s.

He had taken someone else’s bag.

This was a mishap.

A catastrophe is more of what he would have screamed and erupt by now. But by the looks of it, his inner shock was swallowing out his outer shock, causing his overall performance to lack not only of words but of direct, one-sided emotion. This was like as if a salad had been tossed in the most unappetizing way. Like lettuce, a handful of apricots, a spoonful of red vinegar, a cup of diced pop tarts, ten packages of raw codfish, and to keep it looking edible, a green mint at the pinnacle. In this theory though, the ‘green mint’ would be his face, knowing that of now…he was about to burst at any possible millisecond.

Screwing the profusion of his hair, his nails dug in, quaking and settling a tornado on his head.

Checking the phone inside of ‘his’ backpack, it couldn’t believe his eyes to what he was spotting.

The Samsung Galaxy K.

Exceptionally, his hands felt the lime, rubber material with a calm bond.

The same exact phone he had owned himself.

Only with a Totoro phone charm attached to it.

And let’s just say – the creepy, wide smile Totoro had on his face wasn’t really giving helping Baekhyun calm down his nerves of ‘steel.’

This couldn’t just be a coincidence.

It just couldn’t.

Stretching his long arms above his head, Chanyeol had adjusted well beyond compare after he had fleeted off the abundance of airplane stairs and eventful traffic of Tokyo, Japan.

The smell of dewy customers distracted by their own goods was incessant, the path muddled with very tight space to fit through to toddle, the bustling and rustling of the branches of cherry blossoms blooming at the highest elevations – this was home. The pinks, the greens, the grays, they all were blending into a perfectly constructed mélange of utter faultlessness. The fumes of the floral creatures hung high and low everywhere he roamed off to.  

Chanyeol had never thought Tokyo would feel more like home than Seoul had already done so for him. It was an indescribable feeling. An overwhelming composure he had never found himself to be stuck in. This was the day. The day that everything might’ve changed without him even slightly becoming aggravated over.

Reaching into his Ketley’s Novelty knapsack, he was fumbling and hoping to pick up his phone to photograph a picture of a nearby hummingbird on a branch of a cherry blossom. Moving his long fingers around inside and down to the bottom of the fabric, all he felt were hardcover books and a pair of earphones heavily in weight. Yanking them out, there was his phone. With no charm.

“Totoro…is a no show,” Chanyeol cutely huffed out, with a simple puff into his cheeks, bubbling them up firm and round.

At first he thought that maybe the charm would’ve detached or ripped off, but then he thought to himself very carefully. He had left his cell phone at the frontal pocket where it was always planted. When he had become fourteen, his mother had given him the bag. She told him, ‘Shoes may take you to different places, but bags hold things that are the preparation for the memory to conjure and live on, it is what had created a memory in the first place.’  He still laughed whenever he could picture himself at the kitchen table in the morning, a cup of juice beside his bowl of cereal without any milk added because he had never had a close relationship with dairy products. Lactose and tolerant wasn’t the covenant, if it were anything; most liable would just be the stench it encompassed.

“Maybe it fell off,” he murmured to himself with very much doubt. Quietly nudging the insides of his bag, all the things it contained seemed hard. All the structures and materials he was edging his hands on weren’t as soft as he thought he had them to be. Ketchup chips, a bottle of Aloe Vera juice, and a box of chocolate almonds couldn’t be as dense as a rock. “Where did my-“

He lost his stability, dropped the bag, and watched as the items inside crawl out of the dark. There was a few hardcover novels, a wallet, a fountain pen, and a Samsung Galaxy K with a pair of white earphones attached perfectly inside, music playing. Chopin, to be exact.

“What is this?” Chanyeol plugged the ear-bud into his left cave. Repositioning it to a more comfortable placement, his eyes were blinking over and over again as the piano music was detonating from the portable speaker. Even from a small glimpse of Chanyeol, he could tell he wasn’t much of the classical enthusiast. Anything soft, anything quiet, anything too mellow was already thrown out into the trash of his mind, left in the dark, or a recycled into a more distinct, tolerable concoction. “Classical...My favourite.”  The sarcasm rolled of his tongue like a brand new wad of gum that hadn’t been chewed yet.

He gathered up the belongings of someone’s and shoved them back into the bag before anyone could’ve found him troubled with the public mess. Flinging the disarray out of his hair, he unlocked the cell phone and then dialed his own phone number. “When in doubt…do the impossible,” the quirkiness lurched out. “Or…what is most predictable.” Turning to the back of the phone, there were Hangul letters engraved near the bottom of the cellular device. 변백현.  “Byun, Baekhyun.” He stretched the last bit of the name, the ‘n’ sounding more nauseating than it should’ve.

When he checked for the impediment of the call, he had noticed he had clicked the ‘video call’ option instead. There were a bad and a good to this. The cons? Not having his bag returned, not having his cell phone returned, and not knowing if the person had already done any damage to his belongings intentionally. The pros? One, he could see the culprit of who had mistakenly taken his bag and two, possibly have it signed, sealed, and delivered.

The ringing in the background was starting to make him sick to his stomach, just the anchoring anxiousness of the other person picking up.

…

…

…

“Pick up…Pick up…P-Pick up…” The two words were slipping off his tongue, the repetition keeping him sane and steady.

There was a blur; the lens flare was incredibly bothersome on the screen he was staring on. The person hadn’t unveiled themselves yet. The blackness ‘totally’ made it easier for Chanyeol to figure out his knapsack blunder. A scratch and sniff procedure might’ve been more useful by now. 

“Yoboseyo? Yoboseyo? Is anyone there?” Chanyeol felt a bit uneasy, knowing that a complete stranger was picking up his phone and knowing that anything, just anything could show up on the screen in mere seconds. He had to brace himself. Besides – expect the unexpected, life is full of surprises.

“Is anyone there? I’m sorry, but I think you have my ba-“ Before Chanyeol could even complete his sentence, the person’s face was revealed on the screen. It was of a boy. No older than him.  He had a small face, a very round chin, very circular eyes, and he was fixing his hair as he stared into the screen of Chanyeol’s phone. With a flip of his hair, he then pointed at Chanyeol with his index finger, his nose creasing deep lines around his nose and mustache area. For some odd reason, Chanyeol could’ve contended that he had seen such a being at one point of his life. The familiarity feeling was acting up like a bucket of vomit, coming back up his throat. 

“You!” He exclaimed.

“You…know me?” Chanyeol tilted his head in utter confusion.

Oh, how he wished he was false. That this was a fraudulent, but that’d be a dirty loll. Studying Chanyeol’s face, Baekhyun knew that he was no where near wrong, he was correct. It was the boy from the airport seating area. The one that had obnoxiously, obliviously occupied the seat next to his.

“Okay, who the hell are you and why do you have my phone?” Baekhyun solicited without any hesitation. There was an overconfident monster overtaking, germinating, brainwashing his mind. Baekhyun had a low tolerance for many things, patience, punctuality, and the occasional fear of his father, though that was unseemingly. Nevertheless, staring at Chanyeol’s softened and child-like face made it harder for him to keep his seriousness up and his belt of laughter deep down, shoveled into a cemetery.

“Whoa. Slow down. There’s something called respect and discipline…Baekhyun.” Even the name was funny when it had come out of his own mouth. “And by the looks of it…you have neither one so far. So that makes two for Team Sir Derps and zero for Team ‘I Need to Change My Attitude.’”

Of course he had a subject of judgment. That didn’t mean he wanted to immaturely take a chance and risk it at the present flash.

Preserving the after taste of karma in his mouth was more vigorous than stringing the proper words and taping them together to then open his mouth to enunciate.  “You’ve got an interesting personality.”

“Well,” his eyes lit up along with his mouth twitching for a smug simper. “I’m an interesting guy. What can I say? Being me is a full-time job. I’m pretty committed. You can say I’d be the conqueror of employee of the month, but…I’d rather more say I’m just an ordinary guy, wanting to know where his bag and cell phone flew off to. Where are you?”

Baekhyun couldn’t take it. He wanted to explode. He wanted to blow up, scream at Chanyeol’s face, but then that wouldn’t make a difference – they’re nowhere near one another. They don’t even know each other. First strangers now backpack thieves, guess you can learn about a person in thirteen hours.  “Your name. Tell me it. Now. Or else I’m going to call my lawyer on you. You backpack-“

“Wait a second, wait a second. You can’t just blame me. Okay? You have my bag, too. You’re not the only one at fault here, Baekhyun. And I have a name, y’know? You can’t just refer to me as ‘hey, you.’ It’s not like I’m some sort of IKEA furniture piece on sale.” Chanyeol was now moving into a high tower condominium nearby. His long legs helped him to move fast to his yearned destination. “And excuse me for trying to be friendly and slowly roll into the seriousness of the conversation, dad.” He rolled his eyes, trying to compromise whether to hang up on Baekhyun or not. The problem with that was if he had chose to, he’d never his phone or bag back and that’s the last resort he would swim to.

He finally gave in. “What’s your n-“

“Chanyeol. It’s Chanyeol. Park, Chanyeol.”

The gaze in his eyes were like a story that wanted to be open, but a lock was keeping Baekhyun from discovering or educating himself any more than he was dying to want to know about.  “Or you can finish my sentence…”

Does this kid shut up?  Baekhyun bit the inner corner of his lips.

“Chanyeol…What a peculiar name,” the way his tongue the tip of his front teeth made it much more natural.

“You know what’d be more peculiar? If you tell me where you are. I think that’d be darn peculiar, Baekhyun.”

“Does your mouth ever…How do I put this…Shut itself?”

Chanyeol scoffed lightly at the minor insult. “Hey, I shut it mine when you shut yours.”

Wrangling whether to end the call, he sat down at the corner of his newly made bed, no wrinkles, no spills, and untouched. Touching the surface, the softness reminded him as a child, lying in his bed with his father joining him, telling him a fairytale from the past. It brought back many, unforgettable memories. Things that he had always remembered securely, deep down inside of him without needing to get rid of them. Settling down, a low sigh cleared his mind away from the worries he could’ve overwhelmed himself in, wondering if Chanyeol had already taken things out of his bags, his eyes grew with fear, only of it. “D…Did you open my bag, by any chance?”

“Open? No. Accidentally drop and having everything fall out? Yes.”

“So…Long story short, yes?”

“What do you think?” Chanyeol’s face was so close to the screen, Baekhyun’s heart started to pound, his heartbeat vibrating almost at the speed of light. He’d never been on webcam or video call with anyone this close before, the screen hadn’t cut off any compartments of Chanyeol’s perfectly delightful face. The shape – the outline of his big eyes, the long bridge of his nose, and the soft texture of his lips – the screen had perfectly proportioned him to the monitor. His low voice didn’t precisely match such a prominently adorable face. Baekhyun found it hard to concentrate on being stern with this fellow.

Letting out an exasperated roll of his eyes, he nodded. “All right then, I’ll tell you where I am. London, England.”

“Hm.” Chanyeol found it uninteresting at first, but then couldn’t figure out why he’d ever go to such consign. “What are you doing there?”

“I wanted to start anew. Live a new life. I guess…Seoul was something I was too used to, it was too old. I needed a good change in my life for once.” Taking a breath, he continued to speak on his behalf. He didn’t want to ramble on too much of the subject, it was touchy – but nothing he wouldn’t mind sharing…Though, sharing with a complete stranger didn’t seem all that law breaking. “I…I’m planning to major in photography here. I’m not much of an artsy person. Never was, until I went to an art exhibit a couple of months ago after I had graduated high school. It was just an exhibition. Though I never had a liking of art in any form…staring at the colours, the textures, and shapes…it made me not worry for once.”

“Worry?” What would he have to worry about Chanyeol had driven through his mind, screwing it in bounded.

Baekhyun stared down at the floor before writing his life story to Chanyeol, one on one, face to face. “I’m not the type of person to…how should I put this…”

“Not the type of person that enjoys eating up their time with things that they wouldn’t ever associate themselves with? That?”

“That.” Baekhyun’s smile crawled upon his face, just dimly.

“I have a tight schedule to follow, it’s not…that easy being me.”

“Heck, being yourself isn’t easy when you’ve got a crowd to please.”

“Exactly!” Was it weird, he had asked himself several times after speaking so freely, so naturally to Chanyeol? Was it weird that he could act that way without feeling any regret, any trepidation fighting him off? Why was he video calling his phone to a complete stranger and then it turns out the next minute he’s telling the person on the other line about his life story and the big change that has stomped, made a footprint trail into his mind – changing his aspect of all his surroundings. Why was that? Why was it Chanyeol? Why was he the person Baekhyun was spilling things to? One way or another he would have spit it out sooner or later, but he hadn’t expected the person to turn out to be Park, Chanyeol. A person with his bag, his phone, and now a person whom had a grasp of finishing off his own sentences. “You need to stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what? Blinking? Breathing? Eating? You know, a human can’t ‘stop’ doing those things, it’s required to sustain a balanced life, Baekhyun.”

“I meant finishing up my sentences.” He pouted additionally with a rotation of his chocolate orbs.

“Well, if I know what’s on your mind, why can’t I finish them?”

Although he wanted to disagree, he couldn’t admit how much he was trying to bear to see eye to eye with Chanyeol. He was everything but wrong. The statement was buzzing him, ringing in his ears. It felt real, it felt like someone for once wasn’t trying to figure him out, as if they knew him well enough to breathe without even trying to match up what’d he would say out next. Chanyeol was candid, he was frank, he…somehow knew all the answers to the questions Baekhyun was asking in his head all along. Another question was springing into his mind, how come he had found Chanyeol now and not before? Sure, he was indulging himself in all the happiness from letting out his true thoughts and worry-abouts, but…Why now? Why in a video call? Why him?

Life is really full of surprises.

That hit you in the face.

With a big slap.

“You and your replies, it’s like you know I won’t have a comeback.”

“Because you don’t,” Chanyeol peered into the screen, the bubbliness in his eyes just boiling.

Baekhyun snorted at the remark that he had given him. “And how would you know?”

“Because…” He shrugged it off like a cute kid not knowing how to calculate a math equation. “You’re not the type to fight back unless you know it’s worth fighting for.”

Even with all the intentions of him wanting to say ‘no,’ he couldn’t. He was lying to himself. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he was a stranger to himself. That he didn’t even know himself that well as Chanyeol had. And Chanyeol was creating a screenplay and musical about his mind, putting all the puzzle pieces together to work with what he had and to grow on what seemed the most like him. If Chanyeol was the director, he sure was doing his job right. “Good answer.”

“Now,” Chanyeol’s eyes fixated on the clear screen on the cell phone and a small smile bounced on. “I want to ask you something before you go on about yourself.”

A question? About what? “A…question?” Baekhyun raised an eyebrow shooting with curiosity.

“What if we don’t return our belongings? What if we leave things like this? What’s the use if we both have the same bag and same cell phone? What’s the point of switching them if they’re the same thing of the other, right?” The light in the back of Chanyeol’s location was shining brightly, visible to Baekhyun now. “There’s not much we can do, right? Plus…I think I might go through your books, they seem…Off putting.”

“Off putting?” Baekhyun protested with an offended face.

“Okay, fine. They seem…like things I would recycle or compost.”

“Way to be nice,” he tapped the screen with his rounded nails.

Chanyeol laughed back at what Baekhyun had said. “Who said I was nice?”

“I never said. I wasn’t expecting you to be mean. You turned out…not what I expected.”

“I broke the level of your expectations, didn’t I?”

A smug smile aroused Baekhyun, he couldn’t help but bite his lower lip as he heard Chanyeol’s voice become lower with every word exiting him chapped lips. “You did. With a bang.”

“Then I’m doing my job right.”

Ninety-six hours. Five thousand seven hundred and sixty minutes. Three hundred forty five hundred and six hundred seconds. The equivalent to four days, approximately. The passing of those days left Baekhyun to think inside of his bedroom with the five cameras laid on his bed, he stared at each angle, all the counterparts, together they all acquired something that he wanted to create – memories. All the cameras had customized straps he had designed out himself, protected with lens covers, and were all dandy under two small pillow cases he was carrying around.

“So many…to choose from…” He often knew what he had craved for, but having five professional brand new electronics placed right under his nose – it didn’t seem all that ‘fun’ and ‘spectacular’ anymore. More or so, it seemed troublesome. Maybe Chanyeol had a good eye, he thought to himself in silence.

The window in his room was wide open, the breeze running about on his skin, tingling up his skin’s sensitivity. Twirling the strap of his favourite camera, he set it back down on the duvet cover and took a step back to compare and contrast. “Maybe th…No, it’s too wide. No…this one is definitely too sensitive and might not be able to handle all the lighting angles…Aish, the horror of choosing just one camera out for the day.”

There was a sudden outburst of melody theatrically clashing with the sound of silence in his room. A heavy metal song was playing from somewhere, he eyed the phone suspiciously on his desk before clutching it with one hand, turning it on to see Chanyeol’s face pop up on the screen out of no where. “Hey there, backpack stealer.” Baekhyun welcomed him with a giddy smile.

“Same goes for you, cell phone crook.”

Judging by the dark circles and lines of hue under the creases of Chanyeol’s eyes – he was a panda for today. He lacked not only sleep, but in appearance, his eyes looked darker, as if someone had decided to give him a nice punch to create an eye shadow effect to erode over his eyes. The wetness in his eyes had dried out, its luminescence appeared muted.  “How much did you sleep last night?”

“What’s with the interrogation, Baekhyun?” With a mouthful of cereal, Chanyeol was stuffing himself with some Froot Loops he had found in a local supermarket. It was early morning in Japan while Baekhyun was in the midst of lateness in London. Taking in a few more spoonfuls, he was waiting for Baekhyun to reply back to him instead of avoiding him. Once his cheeks were chipmunk looking, he was about to chew his food to bits until the drought in Baekhyun’s eyes stung him in wonder. He was distracted by the amount of overpowering, intimidating cameras sitting in a straight formation waiting for one to be ‘the chosen one.’ “What are you looking at?”

“Oh!” Startled by the deepness of Chanyeol’s voice, he jumped a bit. “I thought…I could ask you for some help.”

“Help with what?”

Eyeing the discrete Polaroid cameras laying still, his lips twitched slightly and then he brought over the phone to showcase to Chanyeol all of them in full view. “I’m…going out tonight, I wanted to photographs pictures of the night skies…maybe stars if I can see them…and the lights. I heard the lights here at night are really something to look forward to.”

“Ah,” with a simple drop of his spoon, he finished up the last bits by chugging down the milk inside of his tiny bowl and looked around from his point of view. “Are they all…the same?” Coughing a bit from the milk, he downed a full glass of apple juice afterwards, removing the aftertaste of hell.

“Different brands, different functions, different prices.”

“Distinctive…I must say, they’re not what I would’ve thought would’ve been your style. But…actually…” In all honesty, he wouldn’t haven given second thoughts about judging Baekhyun about his choice of hobby, though…photography wouldn’t have been his first thought to come to mind when it came to both Baekhyun and the word ‘hobby.’ Chanyeol surpassed the idea of Baekhyun’s preference and just went on to paying close attention to each aspect, toggle, and buttons on each device. “On second thought…they’re not half bad, where’d you get them?”

“Online.”

“Bargain hunting, huh?”

“Had to. Nevertheless, what can a nineteen year old do?” Simply, he put on a worn out smile before indicating the flashy appliances again. “So, which one?” There was something that was luring him, making him want to crawl out of the darkness and into the light. Something about the twinkling lights of London, just something. Mindlessly, the utter blankness spreading in his head blasted seizure.  Turning his empty hand faced down on the blanket of his bed, he waited for Chanyeol to remark with his abundant level of quirkiness sky rocketing.

Dumbfounded Chanyeol was dumbfounded. “Nineteen? You’re nineteen?”

“What? Did you think I was fourteen or something?”

“No,” he corrected. “Fourteen and a half.”

“Yes, because a half definitely makes up that much of a difference…”

He had a definite rationale of why he felt completely insulted, though that wasn’t the upmost importance at the moment; he was still beating the limits until Chanyeol would pick out a camera.

Objectively, an unknown abomination brought his attention to the way Chanyeol’s smile wasn’t like anyone else’s. Whenever he smiled, smirked, or urged to explode into laughter – his right eye had a slim twitch which made it more noticeable. The sheer of cuteness sprung whenever he had done so, so obliviously. As if it was just an addiction he had grown impervious to. Even at the slightest pre-twitch stage, Baekhyun himself had pointed it out that whenever Chanyeol did dare to simper; it was almost fragile and breakable. The portions of his face squishing, the creases overlapping, settling almost like windows in a building.

“That one.” The blue strap had caught the tall fellow’s deliberation.

The blue one, a voice whispered inside his head.

“The one with the blue strap?”

“Blue looks nice on you.”

“That’s your assumption,” Baekhyun sneered at the diction ticking like a timer in his mind. “You can’t just guess that blue would be suitable on me.”

“My assumption can turn into a proclamation.” 

Baekhyun nodded, enough to answer and didn’t bother to want to argue with Chanyeol anymore. Time was endless and he wouldn’t want to throw it all away just because of a small disagreement two people shared over a video call. Didn’t that seem just a little too ridiculous even for someone just as ‘normal’ as Baekhyun? Craving to escape, he snapped his fingers. “Blue strap it is.”

No one ever really questioned Baekhyun with his choices, but it seemed so Chanyeol had gone far out of his own way to do so just because. “Is it good?”

“By that…You me-“

“-Is it up to your standards, your likings? Do the functions stand out to you? Does it ‘wow’ you? Does it have any snap or pop of pizzazz? Or are you just picking it because I said so?” The caterpillar eyebrows furrowed into a ‘v’ shape, denting the centre. “Is it because I chose you you’re just going to go along? You’re not going to think about yourself and what your reasonings are to why and which camera will be in your hands for the rest of your life?”

Questions, mind-bobbling questions – who knew Park, Chanyeol had it in him. Or in other words, had a mind where questions would even be processing at the speed of who knows how fast. “No.”

“No? Did you just say no?”

“I picked it because I had faith that you would put the right one in my hands.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

Shortly, the same answer revived the dead conversation, bringing it to a halt – living on. Baekhyun wounded up placing the strap onto his neck, watching as the camera craned over his body, swinging near his small torso. Baekhyun being astounded by the colourful words of Chanyeol, Baekhyun whisked out his frail, limping hands to wave for farewell before he vamoosed. “I suppose it can mean a lot of things. But yes, it does.”

The awaited night had fallen; the trees were still as the sky was painted with stars in profusion. Never once did a ‘hoot’ or screech harm the padding of his open ears. Severely as he had caught onto the weather’s fever of random ups and downs, it didn’t make him feel any less sleepy as he was to everything. And by everything, it intended everything.

To be blunt, Baekhyun had started having struggles with his curfew. Resting at the latest times yet even having difficulty trying to fall asleep.

Mother Nature was the lady of Chanyeol’s you could say. The peanut butter to his jelly. The marshmallows to his hot chocolate. The bubbletea to his sushi. Wildlife, the outskirts of town was what had always drawn him awake from his sleep ‘till dawn. The morning, the rising of the sun, the pink clouds formed almost a dream for Chanyeol as he woke up hugging himself. Fuzziness, blurriness rampaged on his Goosebumps. His vision wasn’t twenty-twenty as Baekhyun’s has. It wasn’t perfect. Imperfect. Impaired.

Fluffing his pillow, his neck rested, fell back into the cotton material. “Ugh…what time is…”

A scale, melody of piano keys were attacking him by the second.

“Ugh…Chopin…I thought you were dead,” the boy hissed sleepily as tears fell from the inner corners of his eyes.

Following, waiting for the lyrics of the song to pass by, his hand slid onto the table, catching the almost fallen cell phone into the air and could only spot blackness in his screen. “What?” He questioned as he waited for the caller to speak to him. Crumpling, sniffling, and huffing sounds were all blending as one – Chanyeol was completely at lost with what was occurring. Hearing a few words being mumbled, he analyzed the voice to the perfect pitch and tone. “Baekhyun?”

His teeth grinded to the sound of the cracked vocal chords been squeezed.

His stomach churned.

He has to be okay. He just has to.

Chanyeol persevered that the boy would be okay, he reassured himself faithfully to the storm of thought that showered him with hope.

It took a few minutes until the phone made a ker-plunk sound. Peering at the screen, the blurriness couldn’t allow Chanyeol’s creepy irises to detect the objects in clear view. “What the…Baekhyun?!” Shouting the phone owner’s name, he waited until he saw Baekhyun’s fingers claw at the phone and held it close to his face. “Baekhyun! I’ve been calling your name for the past minutes, what the heck! Why didn’t you answer m…”

Spotting the red handed culprit, it was the tear-stained cheeks Baekhyun had gained. The dryness of his skin was flaky; the texture of it was coarse from what he could see. Hearing the audible sobbing, Chanyeol’s mind went completely blank, whiteness taking over, winning. Alas, he had never seen a boy cry in this way, he had never seen someone express their feelings in such a manner. He didn’t know whether to continue talking or to hang up the call. The veins of Baekhyun’s neck drew a path to his broken smile, his visage.

There was a sharp slice inside of him, he couldn’t name or classify it as something or sort of feeling, but it was bugging him.

Baekhyun was a puppy, with all the sniffling – Chanyeol calculated, which summed it up to 40 sniffles before the strained red bloody colour was painted on the veins of his friend’s eyes. It was visible; you couldn’t miss it even if you had denied that it was right there. Because it was just there. And you could see the sadness dawning in his eyes, the life getting out. He’s never seen anyone ever cry so sincerely, with such emotion, such deadness crowded up upon their aura. It’s like the worst him got the best of him when he had least expected it.

“Ba…Baekhyun-ah? What’s the matter, tell me…don’t cry anymore, your face is going to hurt. When you cry for a long time and your tears dry up on your face, you feel as if your skin is cracking after you try to move your face.” Demonstrating, the curves and structure of his face allowed him to adjust to the quirkiest poses ever. His eyes bulging out however, his mouth wide open, and his nose scrunched up all grouchy. “Yah! I’m trying to cheer you up, you better take it or leave it, and I don’t just put on my best face for anyone, y’know.”

Pulse attacked with limitless, the happy virus derp grinned as he saw Baekhyun’s head lift up in slow motion. “Oh, so now you take the chance to look at me. I see how it is; I’m that bad looking, huh?”

In absolute hush, Baekhyun emerged, the focus now onto Chanyeol’s meaningful smirk.

“You wanna tell me what’s with that on your face?” Rhetorically, he was referring to the tears and upset demeanor. Dissolving the arrogance off of his tone, a softer and more caring pitch rose by the closing stage of his verdict. “You do know I’m not that stupid as I look, right?”

Holding onto the idea of ‘stupidity’ mixed in with the name ‘Chanyeol,’ Baekhyun couldn’t help but snort at the thought of Chanyeol’s name inside of the dictionary with the definition ‘a stupid human being’ plotted right across of it after it had been classified as a noun. It had to be one of the most childish ideas he had ever visualized.  “Stupidity…. Synonyms, ‘Park Chanyeol.’”

Baekhyun gleamed, his fallen tears now out dry. “That would be worth seeing.”

“So you agree,” Chanyeol chuckled before getting up from the bed, having all of the blankets and pillows drip off of him as he rose up. “Aigoo…You going to tell me what’s on your mind now?” 

The sadness had worn out, evaporated off of Baekhyun’s now dim face. Now, the outer layer of his lips had swollen, the veins that were once popping out was now fading into its regular pearl whiteness. Minus the outrageous stains of human tears on Baekhyun’s face, Chanyeol had to admit sheepishly that Baekhyun almost looked identical to a newborn puppy.

The austere, disbelieved and disapproving face of Chanyeol got Baekhyun to choke out small chunk of his bother.

The rain that had enthralled over his perfect lazy day, it was definitely something that had made him blue. “I…”

“You…?” Chanyeol jeered.

“I…I can’t do this,” his finger smeared over the end button, the screen becoming partially blurred.

“Hey! Don’t you dare end the video call. You’re the one that called me, remember?” The tousled mess Chanyeol’s hair was. His hair reminded Baekhyun of a cherry blossom tree. The hair bundles sticking out straightly were the branches whilst the rest of his hairs were flowers preparing to bloom for the everlasting spring. His face the bark. It was the entire statue of the tree holding everything up with his warming, undying smile.

Taking in a deep breath, he felt everything around him shake, the walls closing in. “You know, I don’t really care if I’ve never met you, but because you’re sobbing right now – I am nowhere near going to give you time to yourself. You look like you really need someone there and if you think I’m stupid enough to just end this call right now and let you continue crying, you’re undeniably and ing insane, Baekhyun.” He was frustrated not with Baekhyun, but when he had taken a look on the screen, he couldn’t help but want to scream at everything to leave Baekhyun alone. For all of the so-called troublemakers to scram off.  Whether it was people, inanimate objects, or even air. Anything. Everything.

“You better hear every friggin’ word I’m about to say to you right now. Every single word, Byun Baekhyun.” Eyeing left to right, Chanyeol didn’t even know where to begin with his know-it-all speech. He had never given anyone ‘the talk,’ not that talk, but you know…in general…a talk. A piece of advice, words of comfort, they seemed unnatural and even not required in the human race – but that was Chanyeol’s opinion. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist. He never even cried when he was born, he fell quickly asleep after he had been pulled out by six nurses. Yes, six.

“I’m stupid, okay? Stupid is like…not even…it’s like an understatement of me being me. That’s how stupid I am. But I’m not that stupid to leave you alone when you’re in this patch of state. You know I can see your face, I can see that you’re crying. You called me and you expect me to leave you alone? As if I didn’t see anything? Do you know how big my eyes are? Do I have to open them up completely for you to see how big they are? Do you know what they’re used for? Do you think I just have eyes so I can stare at you and then pretend I didn’t see anything?” His eyes widened in the middle of his invalid therapy session. “I honestly don’t give a crap if you’re going to keep crying while I’m talking right now. You better tell me what’s up or else I’m going to stay on this call with you until you answer me, Baekhyun.”

Sniffling, the fading taunt immersed, sunk into Baekhyun’s mind.

Chanyeol wasn’t stupid; he wasn’t even near the idea of stupid in Baekhyun’s eyes.

He’s perfect. He’s perfect just the way he is.

The sweetness of the nagging only melted into Baekhyun’s mind after hovering for so long.

“I….I tried…I-I…I can’t breathe.” Baekhyun’s low, subtle tone was easing Chanyeol’s heated temper. If it was for anyone, Chanyeol had grown to treat his anger when it had come to Baekhyun’s overall being. The deflated tone of his voice, the skeptical tip of his nose not as pointy, even small things such as those factors decreased the heat meter from Chanyeol’s mind to his ever large feet. Every time he shook or had a small squeak, Chanyeol’s instant reaction was to heave his perfect top layer of teeth sink into his lower lip, chewing it close to gushing blood. Just to shut up, to have Baekhyun’s word, the violent habits he had were overthrowing and taking over the entire conversation.

Aware of the uncomfortable appeal, he himself had been wearing, his eyes almost alleviated, faded invisibly as he saw the low hung head on the screen. “I just want to let you have it out. If you keep holding it in, all it’s going to do is let itself out when you least expect or want it to. I can guarantee you that you’re not the only boy in the whole world crying enough to invent a new ocean right now. You’re going to make me cry a new lake soon, if it wasn’t already palpable.” Regulating his friend’s behaviour, his stray of support dragged to live. “I’ll stay on, even if you…just need someone here.”

“I have schizophrenia.” It was unclear; unreadable to Chanyeol of why the sudden event had drove Baekhyun to cry an ocean of tears. Why was this tickling the mind of one so emotionless? Was it the sense of security? The hold he had on the subject? Surely Chanyeol was searching to understand, but only finding himself floating in his own sea of questions.

The lump itching in his throat was swallowed. “Are…Are you going to be okay?” It seemed reasonable to ask. Not hardcore, mind bobbling to ask. His elongated finger brushed creating a foggy smudge, cloud on the phone. That would be a choice, but Baekhyun didn’t like a lot of things, that’s what Chanyeol had caught on after their initial encounter.

For a trice he almost had convinced himself that he was laying a profound hand of Baekhyun’s shoulder, that the tips of them had casted a spell to allocate Baekhyun’s dying frown live to smile. Shortly, the feelings of reality were pulling him into the world of fantasy. It felt as if his warm hand had baked over Baekhyun’s icy shoulder. But it was not real. This wasn’t a reality. Only his thoughts, his mind playing tricks. As much as he was cognizant to the barrier of the screen, it did not mean his worry for Baekhyun shrunk any less.

Chanyeol was not the type of person to reveal his true self until he had a connected string between that people he wanted to open up to. It left him flabbergasted, almost like duct tape had punished his lips. He wanted to come clean to Baekhyun that Baekhyun was the first person that he could open up to indirectly. He was the first person to see the fear in his eyes although the potency of armor he wore was what had protected him.

The silence almost became extinct, murdered by the separation, the pause between words.

“I don’t know. I just…I was just sitting next to a tree and then before I knew it, I just…I started crying when I saw two boys walk by hand in hand.” His pupils dilated. Every single noise grew louder, attacked both their eardrums. “I just…I just knew that would never happen,” hurriedly, his lips were twitching as he had promised his vow, “that I’d never be able to hold your hand like that.”

Park, Chanyeol earnestly did not feel the rush of sympathy, he did not embrace the solid block of pity. It was the lack of feelings, the emptiness that he had adapted to so long ago that made him allergic, unmotivated to be a shoulder to cry on for his friend. “Baekhyun, I…I’m sorry.” Sometimes saying sorry just felt right to him. As if it was fitting to the occasion.

“Why are you sorry?“ The tone bringing out the firm breath of pique crushed Chanyeol’s spirits, made his shoulders flinch. “Are you the reason to blame of why I’m crying? Is it your fault?”

He felt like running in circles until the dizziness could only cloud his mind so much that his feelings could not be constructed in the first place. “I hate this so much, Chanyeol. I hate being so far away from you because I know you’re the only friend that I have. “   A short sniffle ended his phrase. “I’ve never had friends, you know?”

A short beckon retorted in order to let Baekhyun recognize Chanyeol’s understanding.

Chanyeol could retell the whole tale inside of his mind, playing like a black and white film on the big screen. He remembered Baekhyun’s exact words that same day; it shook him, made him believe that even though they were miles away, something tied them together right in the middle.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?!” Baekhyun screamed madly, he had no power.

He had no power in his voice, only sadness lingering on as a drag.

Apologies were another thing Baekhyun found thoughtless and useless. People always act contrite when in actuality didn’t mean even a word of it. If anything bothered him the most about people, it was their way that they found saying simple apologetic words to sensibly get the situation solved. That wasn’t the truth. Saying sorry is one thing, the person receiving and forgiving – now that’s another work of sensitivity that he’d always seen as pitiful, vain.

Chanyeol’s mind drew a blank. He didn’t know what his apology was regarded to; his eyes even had slowly sunk down into the bottom of the ocean perhaps. Hardening his fingers into a clump, there wasn’t any easy way to figure out what his answer would turn out to be. What if he had made the wrong turn, just saying sorry and then keeping the silence as loud as possible? Would that be the right thing to do? More or so, would that be right especially when he had grown to know Baekhyun too well to be ‘not’ concerned. “I’m just sorry, okay? Can’t…can’t I just apologize fo-“

“That’s it; let’s just…Let’s just not talk about this.” Snapping by the mid-point, Baekhyun’s anger just grew from level one to thawing away.

“If you’re not feeling well about what is settling into your mind, shouldn’t you just tell me instead of shutting it away until it comes back again to bite at you?”

There happened to be a long pause as Baekhyun’s train of thought almost lost what to read in between the lines. “What?”

“Wouldn’t you rather reach the end of your tunnel after digging so long? Wouldn’t you want to just stop? What are you going to do, Baekhyun? Keep digging until you find yourself at the pit of bottomless nothing? Because that’s certainly not the type of person you are from what I’ve learned for the past weeks. I know you, Baekhyun. If you want something, you’re going to work for it. Nothing is going to be handed to you.” The words only grew to tattoo into Baekhyun’s mind distinctively. Every single word. “I’m in that tunnel with you right now and what I’m trying to do is tell you that you need to stop digging. The more you dig, the more you’re going to find nothing that you’ll need. Is that what you want, Baekhyun? Do you want to just not tell me because you want to keep digging for answers when you could stop and ask for directions?”

“We’re in a tunnel?” Baekhyun’s blonde hair suddenly fell from heaven and sunk into his brain.

“No! We’re…That’s not the big picture I’m trying to tell you right now.” A deepened groan was the additionally feedback Chanyeol had to give. “Are you going to ask for directions or are you going to keep digging until you find nothing?”

“But, we’re not in a tunnel and we’re not dig-“

Frustration bolted in Chanyeol’s system. All he wanted Baekhyun to do was listen and talking back was never in the picture in the first place. “Baekhyun, listen to me right now. Are you happy?”

“Well-“

“No, ‘well’ isn’t the answer, I asked you one question and it requires just one answer.” Shooting back with a straightforward shot of question, Chanyeol’s eyes dug deep to find the inner Baekhyun. “Are you happy?”

It was just one question.

And all he wanted was one answer.

But why was it that Baekhyun was struggling to find the candid response?

A lie wouldn’t cut it.

When you know so much about someone, even without asking – you will know their answer.

“I thought so.” Chanyeol’s smile lit up the darkness coating Baekhyun’s mind slowly, it was a disease – spreading like a fire, and flames sparking at every corner you look. Shortening the sound of the dead wind billowing, Chanyeol decided to just break his grimace into a wild, wholehearted beam.

For the first time in Baekhyun’s life – he didn’t know why, he didn’t even know how it was remotely possible; he didn’t have any doubts, any feelings of regret. All he did was smile because even though he knew that he wasn’t at his best, Chanyeol made it feel as if the worse in him was non-existent. His voice, the etch of it just made Baekhyun feel safe, his whole body dwindling in his seat as he heard Chanyeol’s heavy breathing on the other line overlap with the sound of his words being pronounced at a slow pace to calm down his anxiety. For all of his worries soon had felt as if they had never been there, for all of the breaths he was able to take now because he had found his peace of mind, and for all of the profound exhales Chanyeol had wielded – all he wanted to do was fall asleep, to plunge slumbering beside Chanyeol and never wake up again to walk in this nightmare.

He wanted the sound to continue. He didn’t want it to end.

The sound almost clung to Baekhyun’s body, embracing him safe and sound.

“Chanyeol?” The boy’s marshmallow voice vibrated through the speakers, making Chanyeol’s heart race as he discerned his name being echoed.  “Chanyeol…Can you keep talking please?” It was a plea.

Crawling out of bed, the tall fellow bounced out as his feet landed on the ground. He scrambled around to search for a writing utensil and any piece of paper to record the rhyme, the cadence and the beats pounding on the inside of his mind. Sitting down, he propped the technical device tilted to the headboard of his desk. “Hold on,” he securely stabbed the pen to the notebook.

Scribbling down what seemed to be lyrics, Baekhyun squinted his eyes to try to see the words but with the messy penmanship that Chanyeol had, it seemed impossible to even try.

“What are you writing?” He wanted to add on that his writing was impractical to read.

“A rap.”

“About?” The light in Baekhyun’s eyes returned to their natural state.

He didn’t answer. He was too involved into his own little world that nothing else could surround, seep into his head.

Releasing the last word on the paper, Chanyeol seeked for an uplifted Baekhyun. The last word was bolded, almost tied together perfectly. Whenever he heard the boy’s voice, it felt like he was travelling through time to search for that one voice that had held him captive. Keeping him hostage, the boy surveyed the violet lips that had decreased. “My voice? Is that what you want to hear?”

He had lost what he was looking for. Baekhyun wasn’t sure if he was losing his mind or he was in a whole new universe. Even a single word excited, shook his insides, nearly made him crash. “Yes, please. P-Please.”

The small beats, melody was constructed inside of Baekhyun’s mind, almost untangling from the mess they had begun off with.  Every word attached to one another like paper and glue, Baekhyun closed his eyes for the after effect. It felt so superior, so free, and just to hear Chanyeol rap, speak, or even his breathing. It was like a medicine to his mind, to cure all of his unhappiness, all of his pain.  From the rush of blood to the invisible storm hazing over – the rain stopped, the imperfect crashes of hell passed over, disappeared.

He wasn’t going crazy anymore. He was still, alive, and his eyes opened wider to let the world enter.

Anchoring his head closer to the screen, his pressed the tip of his nose to it, creating a new imprint as he hummed along to Chanyeol’s voice. Banging back and forth, his head followed to the tempo.

I don’t mean to pry.

I don’t mean to spy.

But all you do is cry.

So I’m not gonna lie.

Don’t let this hold your heart shut.

You’re feeling as if your veins are being cut.

Byun Baekhyun I know I can make you smile.

So just try, just for a while.

Anneyonghaseyo, my name is Park Chanyeol.

And I was a boy who grew up in Seoul.

I used to think life was just all that bad.

Until one day I told myself not to be sad.

I’m rapping this to you right now as we speak,

I hope you don’t mind because it’s at its peak.

Byun Baekhyun, you don’t know but I believe in you.

So smile for me because you believe in me, too.

I know this might not be the best choice,

But all I know what to do is to use my voice.

For the entire minute, his sense tingled; stimulated as Chanyeol’s musical magic worked its way through the small gaps of pressured points of his mind. Meditating his mind, he held back from speaking anymore utterance that would only worry Chanyeol.

He held down the phone, angling it so it could prop up in opposition to his desk.  “Baekhyun?”

“Yes?” With eyelashes fluttering open, a small smile melted upon his face.

“Stop listening to dead people.” Chanyeol flatly put, though what he really meant was ‘stop listening to Chopin, Debussy, and any other classical composers that weren’t capable of coming back alive.’  

He let out a small cackle. “I only listen to them if they answer back to me.”

“You do know that they can’t answer you back, right? I mean…They aren’t well alive, Baekhyun.”

“When words cannot be spoken, music speaks.”

Chanyeol smirked childishly, just the way Baekhyun had always liked it so. “Or…You can just listen to my voice.” With a cocky tilt of his head, he made Baekhyun’s frown turn upside down.

“Your voice…Is already music to my ears, Chanyeol.” Two crescent moons shrunk as he smiled back with a sweet comeback.

“I think otherwise,” he let his lips part out to laugh for a second. “Thank you.”

--

[Author's Note]:

Aw, well - this is the first part of the oneshot! They second part will come after...hopefully soon! I've been quite busy lately with work and school and juggling some other things. But I actually have two more oneshot ideas I've been meaning to expand on, I've started writing already - but since this a birthday gift and I really want to finish up this oneshot...please await for my new oneshots sometime on the holiday break! Stay warm and cuddle with your blankets, fellow readers/commenters/and seekers! ^^~ Thank you for reading. I'd hand you all a cup of hot chocolate if I could and a very squishy hug. ;u; 

Date: 11. 12. 12.

Clockwork: 08.33 pm

Music Box: 60 Seconds by Sung Kyu

Mood: Tired and craving some dim sum.