CHAPTER 4

He forgot the pills.

When Baekhyun lies down in bed and lets himself feel accomplished for returning Chanyeol’s letter to him, he remembers that he didn’t give Kris the pills. The pills! Always so clumsy and forgetful – of course he’d forgotten.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” he says, eyebrows meeting at the center as he scrambles out of his sheets. In his haste, he falls messily over the side of his bed and his roommate, Minseok, blinks at him with curious eyes.

“When you went to go do the laundry, did you check the pocket of my pants?” Baekhyun asks, hair disheveled and fringe shadowing his eyes. 

The confused boy shakes his head and answers, “No, I thought you emptied everything before you gave it to me. Why?”

Groaning, Baekhyun gets on his feet again and, in his pajamas, runs out of the room. Minseok shouts something down the hallway at him, but he is already out of earshot, blindly making a dash to the laundry room.

When the scent of cotton and steam greets him, Baekhyun searches for his dorm’s vibrant green plastic basket. The air clamps in a suffocating hold over his skin as he spots it and digs around the bundles of his and Minseok’s clothing. Upon hearing the pills clanging tiny din in the bottle, he lets out a much-needed breath. They’re sunken, but still safely there.

“Baekhyun!” his roommate calls, cheeks red and respiration truncated at the sudden chase. “I didn’t even know you could run that fast, Jesus. Didn’t you hear me?”

Baekhyun blinks in question. “No, sorry – I was in a rush to find this. I thought I’d lose it if I didn’t run fast enough.” He holds up the white plastic container. “Why? Did you need me for something?”

“I was going to tell you that the clothes in the washing machine should be done by now – we have to put in the other half and dry the first batch. I thought since you were gonna be there anyway, might as well save the extra trip, but…”

“Oh, okay. I’ll do that then,” Baekhyun says, “Here, can you take this and keep it somewhere safe? I’ll wrap this up so don’t worry and rest.” He hands the bottle to Minseok, who nods.

“Thanks Baekhyun,” his roommate replies, and the brunet sends him off with a smile. He’s clumsy, yes, and forgetful all the time, but when he needs to straighten his messes up, Baekhyun gets them fixed in no time. With a sigh of relief, he opens the door of the washing machine and pulls the damp clothes out.

When the laundry has been put into the dryer and the leftover half tucked into the first machine to soak, Baekhyun exits the laundry room with a satisfied, content look on his face. Stretching his tired body, cramped from sitting in a desk for over half the day, he yawns when a voice interrupts him.

“You,” it says.

Paused in his motions, Baekhyun turns around to find an unwelcomed passerby stalking toward him from down the hallway.

“I know something about you, you know,” a Chen with unfocused eyes and blown pupils says to him, his gaze dangerous with those cat-like features lifting in a sly smirk. Stealthy and devious, this other half of Oh Sehun always catches him by surprise. He doesn't even have business on this floor – Chen rooms with Yixing downstairs, after all. Nonetheless, he continues, “Something my friend should know. You’re a disgusting guy, you know that?”

Baekhyun nervously turns his gaze downward. With the vague scent of illegal substances lingering in the space between them, Chen laughs. It’s a nasty chuckle from somewhere deep in his throat, horrifying and wrapping around the brunet to trap him in fear. As always, Baekhyun stays quiet.

“You get in the way of everything – every single thing, I swear. Just let be, yeah? So goddamn meddlesome.”

Patting him on the back just like Sehun does whenever he whispers threats into his ear, he trudges past him down the other side of the corridor. Baekhyun stands there stagnantly, uncomfortably perplexed at the sudden intrusion. Leave what be? Get in the way of what?

Goosebumps travel in a shiver up and down his arms. There’s something so mysterious and cunning about the pair of troublemakers, always leaving him bothered and split at ends. From the day he’d accidentally caught them in the act of trying to raid a locker they'd thought belonged to Chanyeol, they never let him walk past without a push and a shove, one from Sehun and another from Chen. He’s a witness; a sign of danger they don’t want to have to worry about. That’s probably why they won’t leave him alone. Baekhyun knows he shouldn’t take personal offence from the hateful treatment, but it hands him insecurity after troubling insecurity as the days go on.

“… So, you’re one of them?”

For the second time that night, a voice startles him.

“Chanyeol,” the befuddled boy says, gaping again. Said guitarist stands with a scruff look about him, eyes sharp and glowering. “No, I’m not.”

“Then tell me why you hang around my locker like they always do and why you’re sending me some like this.” ing the letter back at the suspected sender, Chanyeol speaks with vehemence. The boy rocks back at the pressure, flimsy and pathetic in the presence of a tower.

You’re a ing coward. How will you deal with me, Park Chanyeol? Baekhyun reads with furrowed eyebrows, then looks up to shake his head.

“This isn’t me; I didn’t write it, Chanyeol. I just found it on your locker while I was on cleaning duty – I would never lie about something like this.”

“But then again, why would you tell the truth?” the taller asks.

Sad eyes slant downward as Baekhyun's lips clam up.

“Forget it, you’re no help. Just get out of my sight,” the guitarist says, ripping the paper out of his hands again. “It hasn’t even been a day since I’ve learned your name and it’s making me angry already. Every time I see you, there’s always that dickhead Sehun or his buddy Chen around. I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with those guys, but don’t make me find out. If you’re gonna keep them around, don’t get caught up in my business.”

The words spit venom.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun says, “I didn’t mean to get in the way when they tried to wreck your stuff that one time. And I’m sorry, you know – about what happened.”

The frown etched in Chanyeol's forehead grows darker, as if it's only occurred to him now that the idiot in the hallway back then is the same idiot standing before him now. Still, the only thing he says back is, “You really need to stop acting like you know about us.”

“I... I never intended any harm, I promise.”

“Just leave it.”

With those final words, Chanyeol leaves yet again without listening to what Baekhyun has to say.

But the truth is, even if Chanyeol says otherwise, he does know. Baekhyun knows what he’s witnessed with his two eyes, what he remembers in his head. He’s seen what Sehun, Chanyeol, and Kris used to be like and he knows that their friendship is not what it’d used to be either.

Chanyeol isn’t a furious person like he is right now; Baekhyun is convinced. He’s just got to prove it.

"Too bad we're not in the same homeroom. I really thought we'd be together for the first year of high school. That would have been nice."

"I was looking forward to finally being in a class with you, too, hyung," Baekhyun says with a small smile, gazing up at the older. Yixing ruffles Baekhyun's hair then smoothes it down again, a timeless sign of affection that Baekhyun has always found comfort in.

Sighing in content, Baekhyun gazes out the wide windows of the bus, watching as the cars whizz by on their first official trip as students to Uijeongbu’s top boarding school. The route is slightly different from the one they’d used to take in middle school, but the bus drivers seem to be in harmony across the slow city. As usual, the giant vehicle takes its time on the road as the rest of the street zips by them. It’s very early in the morning, but everyone is eager to get somewhere. Baekhyun loves the bustling enthusiasm.

Observing the street as it sweeps by in panoramic motion, the brunet pegs a story to the pedestrians. A woman talking busily on her phone with an exasperated look as she hefts up her purse – probably getting errands to run from her pushy boss again. A group of elementary school boys chatting loudly as they pass a soccer ball amongst them – they must plan to play at a park after school. Grandmother with a cane struggling due to the weight of her grocery bags – Baekhyun frowns. No story to this one; the elderly lady crosses only half the street when the lights flash an orange 'No Crossing' signal again.

Grip tightening on the rubber strap he is holding for support, Baekhyun jolts in place when a young hero bounds toward the grandmother to aid her – it’s a relief. The tall figure swiftly takes the grocery bags and hangs them on his lengthy arms, bowing in apology to the cars on the street honking in impatience.

Baekhyun watches the tuft of black hair bob away across the street and finally turn to bow to more irritated drivers. He’s always around, helping people. Baekhyun would love to meet him someday. Even during middle school, as he would watch from a different bus, the same boy would run places at random, leaving his two friends for the few seconds he plays Robin Hood, then run back with a pleased smile on his face. He certainly is an interesting character.

Shaking his head when the grandmother thanks him over and over again, the student smiles. At first, it’s a small one – out of goodwill. But as the grandmother hands him something from her grocery bag, patting his arm, the smile grows bigger until it is shining on his handsome face – this time, gratitude. It’s warm and sincere, and smiling himself, Baekhyun remembers the gentle feeling somewhere deep in his heart.

The homework is tedious.

As Chanyeol walks down the hallway to get to Mrs. Kwon’s office during lunch, he conjures up a multitude of excuses.

It’s too easy. It’s stupid. He already knows how to solve and answer all questions asked; it’s a waste of his time. Of course he sat down to give the papers a look-over, but upon reading the material presented on them, he couldn’t bring himself to do the work. He wouldn’t.

Bursting into the room with purpose, Chanyeol holds up the assignments. “I can’t do these. They’re stupid, I won’t do them.”

Two pairs of eyes look back at him; one of them belonging to the person he'd intentionally come to see, and the other belonging to someone who makes him flustered for half a second.

“… You again?”

A chipmunk with fully stuffed cheeks chokes on his sandwich.

“Baekhyun!” Mrs. Kwon exclaims, handing the boy an opened bottle of water. “Goodness, Chanyeol. You scared the poor boy.”

“I didn’t do anything," the guitarist says without change of expression.

Coughing, Baekhyun doubles over.

“What’s he doing in here?” Chanyeol asks, his tone bordering accusatory as his eyes flicker back and forth between the boy and his teacher.

“He’s my TA, and I called him over because I had to tell him what I needed done later today since I’ll be gone before he comes.”

“Where are you going? Are you going to see my grandma again?”

“Yes, Chanyeol, I am. And now I’ve got something to report to her, don’t I? You promised me you’d complete the assignments; what do you mean you won’t do them?”

Previous bite of sandwich now safe in his stomach, Baekhyun stares with puzzlement at the casual conversation between them.

“Tell me why you’re going to see halmuni first. Is she sick?”

“No, Chanyeol. She isn’t.”

“I swear, if you’re lying to me again–”

“Park Chanyeol,” Mrs. Kwon warns. “I promise your grandmother is fine. Now explain to me why you won’t do your assignments.”

“I can do well in school without doing things like this,” Chanyeol says, and he takes one sheet of paper from the pile of homework in one hand to rip it with the other. “See – shreds like it’s nothing. It’s useless and time-consuming and I won’t devote my time to something I don’t need. I’m tired of the this school makes us do and I refuse to follow rules I don’t believe in. I don’t even have to be here; you know that.”

Baekhyun stares in shock. Chanyeol doesn't hesitate to use profanity with a teacher.

Mrs. Kwon keeps calm, however, almost as if she’d expected the outburst. “A senior in any school of this city is required to have 90 percent attendance to graduate, Chanyeol. At a boarding school like this one, we don’t expect that to be a problem.” She talks with a voice so stern that even Baekhyun, who has no reason to feel guilty, falls mute. Unsurprisingly, Chanyeol doesn’t even flinch.

“Why do you even bother?" he asks instead, "You don’t have to try so hard. Just bull my records – you’re my homeroom teacher, you can do that much, can’t you?”

“Chanyeol!”

Hand gripping the ends of his seat, Baekhyun squirms. “Uh... I think — I think I'll come back later Mrs. Kwon," he says, albeit quietly.

The end of Chanyeol's lips tug in disbelief. “I thought I told you yesterday to get out of my sight. Why are you still sitting here?”

Mrs. Kwon frowns. “That’s no way to speak to your classmate, Chanyeol. And I will do no such thing. Either you do the work or you don’t graduate. This is my final warning.”

“What don’t you get?” the student responds, volume rising. There is a shaking anger stirring from within him. “You know why I don’t come to class. You know I’ve got problems with this school – you know, so why are you making me come?”

“Baekhyun, I’m sorry. This wasn’t the right time to talk.” Mrs. Kwon silences the fuming teenager with a glare.

“N-No, it’s fine,” the brunet says, standing up. “I should go – it isn't in my place to be here.”

“No, you stay right here. You listen to all the words I have to say and then you’re doing me a favor in compensation for knowing.”

“Park Chanyeol–”

“No, listen to me. Three years ago, you told me there was nothing wrong with my mom and that my dad was what, dead? You wrecked my family but acted like everything was fine,” Chanyeol yells, throwing the balls of paper he’d crumpled in his hands with distaste. They litter the floor and Baekhyun shrinks into himself at the sudden outburst. There is no rational explanation for where this came from.

“Chany–”

“But nothing was fine, wasn’t it? My mom was dying and my dad was getting remarried somewhere in the States, but did I know that? No, and I didn’t bother to ask because you said he was dead. What the does he look like anyway? I’m sure you know.”

“Please calm down, Chanyeol. I did what I had to do; we didn’t want to hurt you.”

It's such a classic line that it hurts.

“, do you think I’m happy now? Look at me, I’m a mess. I skip school daily and I can't even say it's because I have a dysfunctional family because I don't have a family at all anymore. Do you think I could hurt any more than I’m hurting right now?”

If Baekhyun isn’t mistaken, there are tears in Mrs. Kwon’s eyes.

“Chanyeol, stop…,” he says, sandwich long forgotten. “Sorry, it’s my fault for being here at a bad time; I’ll leave. I didn’t hear anything; I’ll just forget it all.”

Disheartened and worried, Baekhyun collects his belongings and tries to walk out the door when a hand stops him.

“You know, it would have hurt less if you'd have let me known the truth – if you let me grow up. But here I am, still immature as and you're the only one to blame for it.”

Those eyes of fire flicker at him now, and Chanyeol turns away from his responsibilities yet again. "I’m done talking to her. You’re coming with me.”

Before Baekhyun can protest, Chanyeol drags him away by his wrist.

“Get out a piece of paper.”

Crouched by the stairs of the school’s emergency exit staircase, Baekhyun obeys the strange order. The guitarist draws out a pencil from inside his pocket like it’s the most normal thing and writes meaningless words on the sheet Baekhyun has laid out for him.

“Copy my handwriting.”

Confused, the brunet looks up with slanted eyes.

“Just do as I say.”

When he has mimicked the neat letters with care, Chanyeol inspects his work before throwing a stack of papers at him. Baekhyun stifles a groan at the unexpected impact.

“Keep that sample paper and use it as a reference for my handwriting. That pile I gave you now is my homework – you’re gonna do it all for me by tomorrow because you’ve learned a little secret of mine.”

His mouth opens and closes again in shock, but Baekhyun is not able to utter a single word.

“And don’t go around spreading because I’ll seriously you up if you cause me trouble. Seven forty-five tomorrow, right back at this spot, got it? Miss a single assignment and you’re dead.”

Chanyeol spins him around to his backpack, rummaging through his belongings to find his phone. “And this,” he says, holding the device in his hands before tucking it away, “is staying with me. I’ll give it back to you if you do a good job.”

“Chanyeol…”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol says, standing up. “And good luck. My future is in your hands.”

Again, he escapes. The difference is that this time, Baekhyun is the one who let him run away. He's so quick that Baekhyun never has a chance to hold onto him.

Slumping against the cold wall, Baekhyun feels the chill seep through the pale skin of his cheek. While he should be marveling at the conversational progress between him and the classmate he hasn't spoken to in three years, he cannot do anything but stare crestfallen at the first couple of assignments on top of the bundle, homework worksheets from weeks ago.

Everything goes wrong when Yixing’s not around, it seems. Conflicted, Baekhyun gathers his belongings and heads toward his dorm.

The next morning, Baekhyun is roughly awakened by Minseok’s soccer ball.

“Hey, wake up – you’ll be late for breakfast.” The thump hits the wall above his head and makes the world shake around him.

Muttering a series of incoherent vocabulary, the brunet whimpers into his sheets.

“That’s why you never stay up past three in the morning, idiot. I told you to sleep early; it’s your fault for not taking my advice.” Minseok kicks his ball again, this time aiming for the lump. “Come on, get up! Yunho hyung is going to kill us if we don’t get our asses out by the next five minutes.”

Somehow, by the workings of a miracle, Baekhyun is able to brush his teeth without falling headfirst into the sink and lifelessly zombies over to the dining hall where Yixing waits for him. He forgets to pick up breakfast in the line before sitting and, with a half-conscious mind, plops down at the usual table. It’s a relief he can navigate his way through his daily routine relying on just his motor memory. Yixing pats his back and hands him his fix of bagel.

“What’s up with you? Did you not sleep?”

Leaning on Yixing’s shoulder, Baekhyun falls into a wavering slumber; in, out, in, out. Raising an eyebrow, the older lets the boy use him as a pillow.

Yawning, Baekhyun rubs his eyes that are lidded with fatigue. He’s a diligent student so he rarely suffers the consequences of procrastination, but last night had thrown him distraction after distraction. First, there had been the worry of accuracy – is his copied handwriting plausible enough? Will the teachers know? Are his answers even correct? Then, the nail-biting habit along with another concern – would Chanyeol be satisfied? Or would he say that he’s useless and hate him even more? And Yixing always drops by in the morning to give him lollipops, too; he’ll ask questions if he finds him gone so early in the morning. How would he answer if he asks where he’d been? Yixing would never approve of him acting as Chanyeol’s lackey…

Sighing, he takes a seat on one of the steps of the emergency exit stairway while he waits. He’d dashed out of his dorm extra early to make it to their meeting place on time, thankful that the school schedule allows students enough flexibility to prepare before homeroom. Now leaning on the wall instead of on Yixing’s comfortable shoulder, he lets his breath even out. Out of jitters, he’d been eager to double-check every word on each paper last night, triple-check even, but as his body begs for him to save energy now, he can’t bring himself to lift a single finger. Gripping the assignments in hand, he nods off again – in and out of sleep, so messy in consciousness that he doesn’t even notice the creak of the door opening.

Who are you whoareyou whoareyouwhoareyou… He doesn’t care as he snoozes.

Chanyeol, just entering, hoists up his guitar bag by the black strap and blinks at the pitiful bundle on the floor before him. He’d planned everything out the night before, running a very Chanyeol-like routine in his head of what he would do to avoid feeling that sneaking sense of guilt: Slip in, skim over the assignments, say “Good. Okay, go”, then slip out. Of course he’d omitted the phone part because he’s going to keep him for longer and because no one has contacted the homework machine yet anyway – that had been the plan. Simple, quick, and easy. However, Byun Baekhyun is lying curled in a ball on the cold floor — a sleeping, harmless thwart to his protocol that he wasn't expecting.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, giving the boy a light prod with his foot. “Get up.”

When the boy shows no response, the guitarist frowns.

“Hey,” he tries again, kicking slightly harder this time. Said roly-poly doesn’t budge.

Letting out a breath of irritation, Chanyeol crouches down to level himself with the kid and shakes him violently. “Hey, wake up.”

This Baekhyun guy is a really deep sleeper, Chanyeol thinks as he groans. He stares at the papers in his hands and sighs.

“If you don’t wake up by the third punch I swear I’m going to roll you down the stairs," he warns, but when Baekhyun still shows no sign of waking up, he sets his guitar bag on the wall adjacent to him and curls his fingers into a fist. "I warned you."

“One,” he says nice and slow. His sock hits Baekhyun with great force, square in the place he'd aimed for. It’s enough to make the boy shake awake with a great spasm and a pup-like whimper, eyes snapping open two centimeters from his own in overwhelming trepidation. Chanyeol falls backward in equal alarm when the boy’s fringe lurches dangerously into his vision, groaning in pain when the heel of his right hand breaks his fall.

“Ch-Chanyeol!” the boy stutters when he regains control of his conscious. “I’m so sorry!” With trembling hands, he watches as the guitarist shakes his wrist out of its numb state. The smallest hint of a wince is shown in his contorted eyebrows, but a stoic expression covers it soon after. Baekhyun’s too-long bangs sway into his eyes to conceal his worried gaze when Chanyeol raises himself back up on one knee.

“You’re so much trouble,” Chanyeol grunts, but he finds that even if he is slightly irked, he isn’t exactly angry. There is no flare or even the telltale sparks of contempt. His gaze turns to the boy again, and a pair of deep brown eyes, sloped at the ends, stares back at him through wisps of hair. What a klutz; who reacts that wildly anyway?

Now alert, Baekhyun swallows. No matter how many times they’ve shared this same glance in class, Chanyeol unaware, the effect is always the same. He immediately gets in, crashes a little at the surface and loses his train of thought. Like now.

With a quick but effective flick to the boy's forehead, Chanyeol snaps him back awake. “Give me my homework.”

Cringing at the stinging sensation itching over his eyebrows, Baekhyun ducks and hands the guitarist the stack that had, despite the tumble and shock, remained snug between his clenched fingers. He looks down at his feet in shame.

“Sorry.”

He closes his eyes, and when he looks back up again, Chanyeol is gone.

"That's the third time today, Park Chanyeol."

Said boy fights the urge to punch a wall when Luhan pointedly turns around to fix his gaze accusingly at him.

"Get your together, hot stuff," the vocal warns before turning around and gripping the microphone again.

Chanyeol rolls his raw wrist clockwise a few times before strumming the first notes of the song again. His wrist cries out for rest, but practice is practice and a band has to work together. As much as they bicker, he does acknowledge the other’s passion for music and that is why Chanyeol deals with the pretty boy's crap three times a week, four hours a day, two years and counting.

After gritting his teeth and safely getting through the song, Chanyeol holds up a hand to signal a break before sitting down on the black amplifier. His guitar has never felt heavier.

"Dude, you okay?" Suho asks, sliding back from the keyboard. Tao's bass resounds a soft thud as he gently places it on the floor.

"Yeah, my wrist is just a little worn out, that's all," Chanyeol replies, flexing the muscles again. He groans as a fresh wave of pain ripples through his tendons.

"You might want to get some ice on that," Kris frowns from behind his drumset. "We can't afford a sprained wrist with our tight schedule. You know how long it takes for us to perfect just one song."

"I know, I know," Chanyeol sighs, massaging himself slowly to ease the pain. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself."

A muted ringtone vibrates inside his pocket and he draws Baekhyun’s phone out to see a new message.

Go to dinner without me. I’m going to tutor my second student right now and then Kris so I won’t be able to eat with you. Go sit with Minseok if you’re lonely, okay? I’m sorry, B!

Uninterested, Chanyeol stares at the text message from someone labeled “Hyung”. Complications could arise if Baekhyun’s got good connections, he thinks, but he'll think about that when the time calls. He watches the light of the phone turn off by itself.

“Hey Kris,” he says, putting his guitar to the side. “Who’s that new tutor of yours?”

“His name?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol replies, reaching into his guitar case to bring out the myriad of assignments. He sits cross-legged on the wooden floor and lays them out sheet by sheet.

“Zhang Yixing. He’s in my class. Nice kid.”

Shuffling through the completed work, Chanyeol arranges them, out of habit, by subject. When he has arranged them accordingly, he finds a stray sheet that does not belong in any pile: Mrs. Kwon’s attendance roster. Baekhyun had accidentally misplaced it with his pile, that idiot. But it gets Chanyeol thinking:

Byun Baekhyun, whom he has control over, is a teacher's assistant. Is that useful to him? Possibly. Tolerable? Depending on the length of time they are in contact. Because he handles the student attendance data, he can sign Chanyeol present in class without the teacher knowing. The only problem now lies in finding the kid, but Chanyeol thinks he’s got a solution.

“Let me follow you to your tutor today, yeah?” he says, compiling the papers again in an orderly fashion and tucking them into his guitar case pocket. “I’ve got a couple questions I want to ask.”

"You? Wow, alright," Kris says with a raised eyebrow. Chanyeol just smirks.

He’s going to make good use of this Baekhyun guy.

  Author's Notes  

Welp, there you have it. Plot-developement. Lovely.