Muffled footsteps can be heard outside the door to the flat. Chanyeol’s heart beats nervously as he hurries to peel off his shirt and curl up under the sheets. The door shuts with a soft click. There’s a rustling in the hall as someone removes their jacket. A sniffle. The sound of someone undoing their laces. There’s a dip on the other side of the bed, the cold side, the side that is barely used nowadays.

Baekhyun sighs as he removes his shirt, letting it drop limply onto the floor. He pulls back the covers, revealing Chanyeol’s unclothed shoulder, the tall boy’s skin is pale and soft, and Baekhyun remembers touching it, feeling it, clinging to it. His chest tightens as he slides his feet under the sheets, letting his head drop onto the pillow. This time, Chanyeol’s arm doesn’t circle his waist, he just lies still and quiet. Baekhyun knows he’s awake, he always is.

Baekhyun sighs and readjusts his position, accidentally nudging Chanyeol’s feet with his. There’s a sharp intake of breath from Chanyeol, and he wonders when they got so awkward, so quiet, so distant.

Baekhyun closes his eyes and swallows down a lump in his throat. He turns over and pulls the sheets over his shoulders, curling into a ball, the pillow soaking in his unspoken thoughts, as he slowly drifts into a slow dream, restless and cold.

Chanyeol wakes up and finds a cup of coffee on the kitchen island, a note secured beneath it.

I won’t be home til late tonight, late shift at work. Don’t wait up. I love you.

-Baek.

Chanyeol wants to believe it’s the truth, but a voice inside him tells him it’s not. He crumples up the note and throws it into the waste bin, the words “I love you” etched into his mind.

“Ready to go?” asks Jongin, his hands stowed in his pockets.

“Yeah, yeah, I just—” Baekhyun sighs, taking out his phone. He turns it on, but finds no new texts from anyone (Chanyeol), so he slides it into his pocket, and follows Jongin to his car.

The night is a blur. Jongin takes Baekhyun to a colourful bar, one that smells of smoke machines and strong alcohol, full of laughter and smiles and vibrating pop music, but Baekhyun doesn’t feel like laughing. He drinks his beverage coldly, denying any drunken woman who tries her luck with him.

Jongin laughs, throwing his arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. “Lighten up, will ya, Baek? Have another drink,” he says, sliding a shot glass over to Baekhyun. He complies only because he doesn’t intend to remember tonight.

They throw back a couple shots, and for once, Baekhyun forgets everything, alcohol burning his throat. His chest lightens, running on the burning alcohol, laughter bubbling in his throat. Jongin grins, chugging back his drink.

“That’s more like it!”

Chanyeol puts on an old tape, one he used to listen to when he was a teenager, and orders Chinese at 10_PM, the music droning in the background as he chomps down on vegetable stir-fry and flips through an out-of-date magazine. Baekhyun told him not to wait up, but they both know he’s going to wait up anyway.

At 11, he gets bored of music, and turns on the television, flipping through the channels until he sees a program worth watching. He’s finished his meal, so he cracks open a cool beer instead, knocking back with his feet on the coffee table. Baekhyun doesn’t like it when he puts his feet on the coffee table, but Baekhyun’s never around anymore, so Chanyeol tells himself doesn’t care.

At 1_AM, he falls asleep, clutching a pillow against his chest, his cheeks tearstained because half-way through the program he started thinking, where did we go wrong? And because without Baekhyun, Chanyeol feels lost and confused.

Baekhyun gets home at half past 2, drunkenly shutting the door a little too loudly, stumbling into the living room and kicking off his boots. He rips off his jacket, throwing it over the arm of the couch. He sees Chanyeol curled up on the couch, a cushion clutched to his chest, and he lets out a soft sigh.

“You stayed up again, you idiot,” he whispers, leaning down to brush Chanyeol’s bangs out of his eyes. “I should’ve known.”

He lowers himself onto the couch, pulling the cushion out of Chanyeol’s loose grip. He settles himself back onto the couch and pulls Chanyeol’s torso onto his lap, his hair gently, watching as the boy’s eyes flicker beneath his eyelids. Baekhyun knows he’s pretending to be asleep, so he supposes it’s easier to talk to him this way.

“I’m sorry I lied,” he starts, tucking a strand of hair behind Chanyeol’s ear. “I went out with Jongin, to a bar, you know. And it was really loud, and there was lots of people. But you weren’t there, and I wanted you to be. You’d tell those girls that I’m yours, wouldn’t you? Never mind though, I didn’t let them touch me.”

He chuckles, and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Chanyeol’s lips twitch. His heart beats a little faster and he sighs nervously.

“I still love you. I love you so much. And it hurts because we’re so distant, broken, and it’s been like this for so long that I can’t even remember what started it. Was it when I started coming home late?” He pauses, frowning as a lump forms in his throat. “You’d always wait up… and you still do. You’re like my anchor, Chanyeol. Without you, I’d just be a boat, crashing against waves, lost at sea, empty and forgotten.” He swallows thickly, running his finger along Chanyeol’s jaw bone. “It’s all my fault that we’ve drifted apart. Maybe the chain is loose, maybe one of the shackles are broken, but I promise you,” he leans down to whisper softly into Chanyeol’s ear, “I’m going to fix us. I’m going to make us love again, because I love you, so much, and I never want to lose you.” He brushes his lips against Chanyeol’s cheek, a tear rolling down his cheek and landing on Chanyeol’s skin.

“You won’t lose me,” Chanyeol murmurs hoarsely. Baekhyun’s stomach flips as Chanyeol sits up, leaning forward until his forehead knocks against Baekhyun’s. “You won’t lose me, because I love you. I love you so much, and I’m not ready to watch you leave my life yet.”

Baekhyun bites his lip shyly as Chanyeol leans closer, Baekhyun moving back until his back touches the back of the couch. Their lips connect after what feels like months, and Baekhyun tastes sour, and Chanyeol’s lips are slightly cracked and a little salty, but neither of them mind as they desperately reach for something deeper, more meaningful, as if joining each other’s hearts again isn’t enough.

Chanyeol wakes up to a cup of coffee and a Baekhyun, who leans against the kitchen island, wearing Chanyeol’s shirt, and holds his own cup of coffee between his hands, a warm smile on his lips, and for the first time in a long time, Chanyeol’s heart feels warm, safe and secure. Instead of going to get his coffee, he walks over to Baekhyun and circles his arms around his waist, brushing his lips against his ear.

“Good morning, babe.”