“I don’t like him,” he hears behind him, and Baekhyun goes stock still in his high-backed chair, frozen with his coffee halfway to his lips.

“What do you mean, you don’t like him? What’s not to like about Baekhyun?” Chanyeol’s low voice asks, still too loud for the little coffee shop, but no one turns to look.

It’s Monday, and Chanyeol usually has class now, so Baekhyun has his morning coffee alone and finishes his reading for the day. But that doesn’t seem to be the case now, and he feels the chair that just barely touches the back of his shift a little, and imagines Chanyeol squirming unhappily in his seat.

“I just don’t like him,” the voice he recognizes as Kris’s says again, and then continues, “I don’t like the way he looks at you. That’s all.”

Chanyeol laughs, that loud boisterous one that Baekhyun loves, and he imagines the grimace on Kris’s face, the little quelling gesture he makes with his hands when Chanyeol draws attention to himself. “I’m not your girlfriend, you know. What do you care how he looks at me?”

It’s quiet for a long time. Baekhyun remembers to put his coffee down, and carefully focuses on the book in his lap, trying not to look like he’s listening intently – trying not to gain attention, because the last thing he wants is for Chanyeol to think he’s sitting there eavesdropping.

Which he totally is, but it’s beside the point.

Kris has been in town for a week now. Baekhyun met him two days after he came, when Chanyeol dragged him to the restaurant for lunch, rambling excitedly about how their galbi was his favorite. Kris was quiet and calm and seemed pleased to be with Chanyeol, saying things with almost transparent purpose to make him smile. Chanyeol had invited him – and Jongin and Kyungsoo – out to dinner a few nights later, and Baekhyun had been surprised to see how Kris really interacted with Chanyeol. There were moments when he seemed so genuinely pleased by Chanyeol’s natural affection, but then he’d shut down, frown and push Chanyeol’s arm away from his shoulders or shoot him a withering glare when he got too loud, and Baekhyun had to wonder if he was always so embarrassed about being Chanyeol’s friend.

“I just don’t like it,” Kris says faintly, and Baekhyun remembers how surprised he was to hear that almost equally low voice out of Chanyeol’s sour-faced friend.

The chair shifts again and Baekhyun stays still, closes his eyes and remembers the way Chanyeol can never just sit in his chair, he has to move – from side to side, crossing his legs, drawing them up under him, dangling them over the arm of the chair. “Fine, well, that’s too bad, isn’t it? It’s not like you’re…”

Baekhyun’s eyes snap open at the tone of Chanyeol’s voice, soft and worn and hurting, the way he trails off like he can’t bear to finish what he’s saying. He wants to turn and ask what Kris isn’t, but he’s not supposed to be there, not supposed to be listening – he’s a terrible friend, intruding on Chanyeol’s private conversation this way.

Kris clears his throat and suddenly Chanyeol’s talking again, louder than even he usually does. “Why did you even come here, Jiaheng, what do you really want? Why don’t you just tell me?” he asks sharply, and the last piece falls into place.

Baekhyun curses inside because he should have noticed, he should have put those little clues together without any help, because the night he and Chanyeol first spoke is etched into his memory like no other. Chanyeol’s been drinking nothing but ginger tea since he told Baekhyun that Kris was coming three weeks ago, like it was a safety blanket, and he should have put it together then, should have fit it with the vivid jumble of images that come to mind now – Chanyeol staring forlornly at his phone as he sips his tea, Chanyeol’s agonized expression when Baekhyun chased after him, the little star stickers on the purple plastic finish of his phone, the way it rang and rang even though Chanyeol never answered.

“I don’t want anything from you, Yeollie,” Kris says quietly, and Baekhyun hates the endearment on his lips. Having two names is stupid too, he thinks fiercely, ignoring that Jongin’s been trying to convince them all to call him Kai for over a month now. “I just wanted to check on you, that’s all. You remember how you were with us, we were worried about you – and when you really seemed to be making friends, we – I wanted to make sure that you were being honest with me, alright? That you weren’t just saying you weren’t alone anymore to keep me from worrying.”

 It’s quiet, and Chanyeol doesn’t even shift in his seat. Baekhyun feels that familiar tightness in his chest and wonders how anyone as wonderful as Chanyeol could ever want for friends, and he finds he can’t hate Kris completely when he worries about Chanyeol so genuinely. He wants to, but he can’t.

Kris clears his throat again, and Baekhyun hears him shift in his seat, set down his cup, imagines him looking away from whatever pained expression is mapped over Chanyeol’s handsome face. “Zitao didn’t want me to come,” he says quietly, and suddenly the back of Chanyeol’s chair hits Baekhyun’s, and there are racing footsteps, and when he turns to look Kris is sitting still and quiet, staring at the empty seat across from him, hands gripping tight to the arms of his chair.

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything because it’s not his place to, just gathers up his things – as well as Chanyeol’s phone, forgotten in the seat of his chair, the star stickers worn off and replaced with tiny silver hearts.

“I just wanted to check on him,” Kris says, voice flat and empty, and it’s a moment before Baekhyun realizes he must be talking to him. “I worry about him. Is that wrong?”

“That’s not wrong,” he replies after a minute, biting his lip and sitting on the edge of Chanyeol’s former chair.

Kris’s eyes focus and his stare is suddenly painfully intense, all of it focused on Baekhyun. He tries not to squirm. “What is he to you?” he asks, and his voice is dark and quiet, his tone more threatening than any Baekhyun’s ever heard.

“He’s my friend,” he manages to answer, although he stammers just a little, thinking about what he wishes he could say, and he wonders if Kris hears that hesitation, because his harsh eyes stay locked on Baekhyun a minute longer before he looks away. It takes him another three to work up the courage, but once he’s thought of the question he can’t hold it in. “What is he to you, then?”

Kris pauses, in the middle of getting up, and looks down at the empty cup in his hands. “He’s just a friend, now,” he says, looking up, and there are worlds of pain and devotion behind his eyes.

---

It takes over two hours, but by the second time Baekhyun goes back to his own apartment, Chanyeol is there, sitting on the floor outside his door, copper hair peeking out from under his hood, long legs blocking the doorway. Baekhyun wonders how long he’s been sitting there. Chanyeol doesn’t seem to notice when he stops to fish out his keys, so Baekhyun sighs and squats down in front of him, ducking his head to peak under the hood. Chanyeol’s eyes are red and puffy from crying, glasses hooked in the neck of his sweatshirt, and Baekhyun thinks his heart might break.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, and regrets it immediately when Chanyeol tries to force a smile. “How about I help you up, and we’ll go inside, hm?”

Chanyeol watches him with those wide, watery eyes for a moment before nodding, and Baekhyun sighs and takes his hands. He can’t handle this anymore, all these secrets, all this sadness. He’s going to ask. Maybe Chanyeol won’t want to talk about it, but he has to ask. He has to know.

Inside, he sits Chanyeol at the tiny kitchen table while he puts the kettle on. He doesn’t ask what Chanyeol wants, he’s pretty sure what the answer will be – but he pushes the ginger tea to the back of his cabinet, pulls out the peppermint blend that his mother made for him last Christmas, and brews that instead. Chanyeol gets up before it’s done, while Baekhyun is rambling out a distracted cover story about the barista at their café giving him Chanyeol’s phone, and then his long arms are wrapping tight around Baekhyun’s middle, trapping one of his arms against his chest, and Chanyeol’s tear-stained face presses in against the curve of his neck, and Baekhyun has to force himself not to tremble. He sets down the mug he was moving and threads his fingers carefully into Chanyeol’s soft hair, pushing back the hood of his sweatshirt, and Chanyeol shakes against his back, tall frame curling inward around him.

“Can I give you a hug?” Baekhyun asks very quietly, and Chanyeol nods against his neck, grip loosening – so Baekhyun moves like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind, turns around in his arms and pulls Chanyeol down against him, fingers tangled in his hair and rubbing soothing circles against his spine, holding him as tightly as he can.

They stay like that until the kettle whistles, Chanyeol’s arms wrapped so tightly around him that Baekhyun’s certain he’ll have bruises, but it doesn’t matter.

When they finally have their tea, Baekhyun ushers Chanyeol into the other room, sitting him down on the futon and curling up much closer than he normally would – but Chanyeol sighs in relief when Baekhyun sits close enough that they’re pressed together from shoulder to thigh, closes his eyes and breathes in the warm scent of his tea before frowning a little.

“Peppermint?” he asks, and his voice is rough with tears.

“I ran out of ginger,” Baekhyun lies, and he tucks his feet up on the futon, resting more of his weight against Chanyeol. He’s never been so comfortable and so tense at the same time in his life.

It’s quiet for a while, but it’s a calm quiet, and Chanyeol sips his tea without further complaint, closing his eyes and leaning into the warmth of Baekhyun’s body against his side. He hates to ruin this, he really does; he wishes they could sit here in quiet companionship forever, because Chanyeol seems so content, but he knows it can’t last.

“Chanyeol, were… were you and Kris, I mean, did you—”

“Are you asking if we dated?” Chanyeol interrupts, deep voice careful and quieter than Baekhyun’s ever heard it.

He his lips, has to tilt his head at an unnatural angle to see Chanyeol’s face, but the taller boy’s expression is so closed off and tired, it tells him nothing. “Yeah. I guess I am,” Baekhyun whispers, and sends up a silent plea that Chanyeol will just talk to him about it.

Chanyeol squirms, resettles against the futon, sets down his mug, and then his arms twine around Baekhyun’s waist, yanking him closer. Baekhyun remembers belatedly that Chanyeol’s always so handsy, and wonders why he thought it would be lessened by his obvious distress – but maybe he’s just working on the knowledge that Chanyeol’s usually touchy-feely with everyone except him, that Chanyeol will hug Jongin and wrap his arms around Kyungsoo’s shoulders and brush Kris’s hair away from his eyes but he barely even lets his fingers brush Baekhyun’s when he hands him something. He wonders what changed.

“I guess we were,” Chanyeol says, and he’s so quiet Baekhyun almost doesn’t hear him. “I guess… the last two… two months that I was there, we were… a thing. But he was always… very clear. That it wasn’t something that would last. That it wasn’t a relationship. There was someone… someone he was waiting for. I was just… his second choice, I guess.”

“Zitao?” Baekhyun asks without meaning to, and it takes a good deal of mental energy not to clamp a hand over his mouth. He swears at himself internally instead, screwing his eyes shut tightly.

Instead of whatever he expected – he fully admits he has no idea what he thought would happen – Chanyeol laughs, quiet and gentle, and rests his cheek against Baekhyun’s hair. “Yeah, Zitao. I knew that was you behind me, you always shuffle your feet against the floor when you’re nervous, you know?”

Baekhyun swallows and nods a little, afraid to speak in case he says anything else idiotic. Chanyeol sighs very softly and rubs his cheek against his hair like a cat, and Baekhyun closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and wondering if this is the closest he’ll ever be to everything he’s ever wanted.

---

The weekend after Kris goes home, Chanyeol disappears, and it’s not until Baekhyun frantically texts him that he learns he’s gone back to his hometown for a few days.

It feels like a breaking point.

He knows what he wants but not how to get it. He knows when he has to figure it out by but he’s pretty sure it’s not even enough time. He’s afraid – he doesn’t know if Chanyeol’s even interested in him, let alone if he’s ready to be in a relationship with someone, or if he’d even want one any time soon. He hates Jongin a little for threatening to ask Chanyeol for him, because now that he doesn’t know what to do – now that he can’t – that warning hangs over him, more ominous every day.

He can’t relax, he can’t think, and finally he just can’t handle it anymore. So when one of the boys he vaguely knows from downstairs asks if he wants to go clubbing that night, he says yes. Why not, after all. He looks surprised – Jongdae, Baekhyun remembers his name is, when they’re halfway to the club, and he’s asked maybe a dozen times, and Baekhyun’s always said no. Not that it feels right tonight, and after a couple drinks Baekhyun feels strangely detached, outside himself and lightheaded, like he’s not in control of his body at all.

The wall he’s looking at when he wakes up is an unfamiliar shade of beige, and the pounding in his head doesn’t make the rest of the room any less confusing. He decides to stay still, hoping that answers will present themselves without him having to make an effort – and he’s rewarded when a cold, skinny hand presses gently to his forehead, and a soft voice asks if he’s awake. He opens his eyes again – and this time everything is considerably less bright, which he appreciates. The person sitting on the side of the bed is unfamiliar and still a bit blurry, but he lets them help him sit up, and takes the aspirin and water he’s offered. It takes a little while, but soon the ache behind his eyes quiets.

Sehun is quiet and calm, and a little bratty, but he doesn’t seem all that phased about taking care of a stranger the morning after. He calmly states that he knows Baekhyun pretty well now, even if the night before is a hazy blur for him. The dorm is quiet when they leave, and Sehun buys him breakfast at the café down the street – insisting that he needs to eat to feel better – before walking the rest of the way back to his apartment with him.

He gives Baekhyun his number before he leaves, and Baekhyun finds himself typing it into his contacts list before falling asleep on his futon, feeling worn and broken and not at all better.

He wakes from a dream of soft fingertips and warm skin, the image of Sehun’s face slack with pleasure seared behind his eyelids. And lying there staring at his ceiling, ignoring the building ache in his temples, he thinks that maybe he just can’t do this anymore. It was one thing when he had hope, it was different when he could pretend that Chanyeol might accept – even welcome – more than friendship from him; but now all that rings through his head is Kris’s worry that Chanyeol doesn’t have any friends here. Baekhyun remembers the warm press of Chanyeol’s embrace, the way his hair slipped soft as down through his fingers, the curl of a smile at the corners of his lips when he sipped his tea – and he can’t do it. He can’t jeopardize that.

He’s pulled out his phone before he realizes it, and Sehun’s answering text is cheeky and calm, a suggestion of repeating the last nights events when Baekhyun could remember them properly.

He doesn’t say no.

---

“I can’t, I have a date that night.” As soon as the words leave his lips, Baekhyun knows he should have kept it to himself. Kyungsoo’s eyes look like they might pop out of his head, and Jongin’s jaw drops open.

“A date? And you haven’t told us? When did you ask him, how did it—”

Kyungsoo pats Jongin’s shoulder and he stops, frowning at the serious expression spilling over the shorter boy’s face. “Who do you have a date with, hm?” Kyungsoo probes gently, and Baekhyun feels the sinking sensation in his stomach worsen. He should have known better than to mention it, especially in front of Kyungsoo, who’s always been able to tell when there’s something he wants to hide.

“His name’s Sehun,” he starts, and winces when Jongin makes an affronted noise, eyes widening.

“You’re ting me, right? You asked someone out and it wasn’t—” Kyungsoo slaps his arm and, thankfully, he lowers his volume, “—it wasn’t Chanyeol?”

Baekhyun tries his hardest not to look guilty and opens his mouth to make up some excuse, to say he really likes this boy, but all the little lies die in his throat at the sight of Chanyeol over Jongin’s shoulder, waving and grinning happily. He pulls on his brightest smile and waves back, and Chanyeol’s whole expression lights up before he heads into the main building for his class.

When Baekhyun turns back, he thinks maybe he’s never seen such a pitying look as the one that’s taken up residence on Jongin’s face.

---

It’s Wednesday, but Baekhyun doesn’t come out of the back room like he usually does. Chanyeol eats his galbi in silence, eyes lingering on the chair opposite him – Baekhyun never sits normally, he always turns it around and straddles it, arms folded over the back, apron bunched over his thighs, and Chanyeol thinks that’s cool, Baekhyun’s cool sometimes and Chanyeol likes that, because he’s always so awkward with everything. It’s Wednesday but Baekhyun doesn’t sit with him while he eats, Baekhyun doesn’t peek at him out of the swinging doors, and when the shop closes for the night Baekhyun doesn’t meet him at the door.

“Where is he?” he asks when Kyungsoo comes out, aware that he sounds sad and lost but not sure how to fix it.

Kyungsoo blinks at him like he doesn’t know why Chanyeol’s even still standing there. “He didn’t tell you? He switched shifts today, he got off work at six.”

Chanyeol’s bottom lip pushes out in the start of a pout, confusion drawing his brows together. “Why’d he do that?” he asks, and instantly dislikes the look on his friend’s face – quiet and apologetic, like he doesn’t want to have to tell Chanyeol what’s going on. He doesn’t understand why Kyungsoo would look at him like that unless it was something bad. Maybe Baekhyun was sick? But then he wouldn’t have switched shifts, he wouldn’t have worked today at all. Maybe—

“He’s on a date tonight,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol’s train of thought grinds to a halt. “This is the third time they’ve gone out, I guess it must be…” He trails off when he notices that Chanyeol’s not walking next to him anymore, but when he turns around Chanyeol’s shaking his head, and soon his familiar bright smile is back.

“That’s good though. Who is this girl? Guy? Hm?” Chanyeol prods curiously, leaning on Kyungsoo’s shoulder – or, given their height difference, almost toppling him.

Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose, just a little, struggling to keep them both upright. “I haven’t met him,” he says cautiously, and Chanyeol frowns.

“Has Jongin?” he asks, and when Kyungsoo shakes his head, Chanyeol’s expression morphs into something stubborn. “Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

The shorter boy smiles and nods in a strained sort of way, like there’s something he wants to say that he’s holding back, but Chanyeol doesn’t ask.

---

He’s so hot but he doesn’t think he can move, and besides, Sehun is warm and comfortable, and Baekhyun’s forehead fits nicely against the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Sehun says suddenly, and Baekhyun smirks just a little to hear that his lisp is so much less pronounced than it was only minutes before, when he was whispering filthy suggestions and needy pleas against Baekhyun’s skin. He wonders if it would be alright to tell Sehun his lisp is y, if they’re close enough yet for him to say something like that without offending, and he forgets to ask what’s okay.

“It’s really okay,” Sehun murmurs, nuzzling against his hair, and Baekhyun shifts enough to frown up at him, still feeling too hazy for guessing. Sehun smiles, the smallest quirk of lips. “I don’t mind. I’ve been rebound guy plenty of times before.”

Baekhyun starts to frown again but then his ears are ringing with the knowledge that he cried out Chanyeol’s name, and he feels his face start to burn.

“It’s not okay,” he manages after a long moment of silence. “It’s definitely not okay, I shouldn’t… I can’t do that to you—” Sehun laughs, cutting him off, and Baekhyun thinks his face might catch fire from shame. He buries himself against Sehun’s collarbone and sighs inadvertently when thin fingers thread into his hair.

The slow comb of Sehun’s fingers through his hair might be enough to lull him to sleep despite his overwhelming humiliation, but then Sehun’s soft lips press a gentle kiss to his temple. “I really don’t mind,” he murmurs, and his voice is so soothing that Baekhyun just wants to accept it, because he’s so tired right now. “I mean, this is nice, right? And you’re nice, and… and I’m not in love with you. I don’t mind helping you get over this guy.” He feels Sehun smirk against his skin. “Especially if I get such a good out of the deal.”

Baekhyun makes a disgusted noise and tries to shove him without pulling away, and fails miserably. Sehun just keeps laughing, wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s shoulders and holds on tight.