CHAPTER 5 

“You made a good choice, you know – coming with me. I knew you’d come around.”

Chanyeol doesn’t try to explain himself as Kris slings an arm around his guitar bag to rest it on his shoulder. They’re walking down the hallway leading to the library and the lights are dimmed to a bare minimum to indicate the end of school hours. It’s a little eerie, more so because the building is so quiet that their footsteps clack and echo off the walls, but the light glowing from the room at the end of the hall assures Chanyeol that all is well. 

“Yeah,” he says in dismissal, letting Kris lean his weight on him. He has always been a sturdy pillar for him to rest on. 

Blowing a small bubble from his mint gum, Kris whips out a phone from his back pocket. “I haven’t asked Yixing if you could join the lesson though so you might just have to eavesdrop or something,” he says. He unlocks the screen to open up his messages. “Should I ask in advance? I’m pretty sure he’d be okay with it since he’s a nice guy, but just to play it safe. I don’t want to be rude on the first day.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I won’t be there long anyway.”

“What do you mean? You’re not staying?”

When the drummer draws his head back with a perplexed frown, Chanyeol laughs. “No, I just have some business to tend to. I’m gonna be out of there in a few minutes, tops.”

Annoyed, his friend shoves him away.

“You're an actual jerk," he says. "Don’t talk to me ever again. You're rude.”

“Hey.” Chanyeol saddles up to him, hoisting his guitar properly back on his shoulder before nudging his tall friend back. “First of all, keep your hands off the guitar. And second, would you stop being so melodramatic? It was stupid of you to even believe I would come here for whatever reason you're thinking in the first place. You seriously thought I would let a classmate lecture me?”

“There is nothing wrong with getting taught by a classmate – don’t discriminate, you ,” Kris growls at him. Chanyeol just laughs as they reach the library’s opened door.

“Hey Yixing,” Kris greets, ignoring the stubborn guitarist and raising an arm to the boy sitting at one of the many tables. He elbows Chanyeol hard enough to hear a grunt behind him then walks over to his tutor. “Sorry, did I keep you waiting?”

“No,” Yixing says with a smile. His dimples make him look younger than he is and he talks with relaxed, calm syllables. Moving his backpack away from the surface of the table, he makes room. “My friend just left a few minutes before you came so it’s alright,” he says as he offers Kris a seat.

At this, Chanyeol perks, "Which friend? Baekhyun?”

The boy in the plain white shirt looks up at him and blinks in surprise. Just as puzzled, his friend turns to him.

“What’s with you and that Baekhyun kid anyway? Last time you –”

Chanyeol shuts him up with the prod of his elbow and stares back at Yixing.

“Do you know where he went? I have to talk to him about something.”

The tutor hesitates as if confused by the sudden question, but he points to the door.

“He went back to Mrs. Kwon’s room to look for something.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol says, and he pats Kris on the back before jogging out of the library. There comes a guttural noise of disaproval from the drummer, but he knows his friend won’t chase after him; the giant wouldn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his lamb of a tutor after all. Chanyeol suspects he’s going to nag in their dorm when he comes back, but he’ll survive.

The dark hall makes the guitarist shiver so he makes a quick sprint across it, then downstairs to Mrs. Kwon’s homeroom, pulling out a sheet of paper from the outer pocket of his guitar case. When he opens the unlocked door to the room, he sees Baekhyun rummaging through his desk in the dark. He flicks on the light.

“Hey.”

Startled, the boy jerks his head toward him with wide eyes.

“Chanyeol,” he says in alarm. That’s probably his default expression around him: always so cautious and careful and scared.

“I have something for you,” the guitarist says as he lifts the piece of paper for him to see. “You left this with me.”

Baekhyun lets out a sigh in relief when he recognizes the slip as Mrs. Kwon’s attendance roster.

“Sorry,” he says, “it didn’t even cross my mind that I might have left it in your pile. I was looking for it all day.”

Hand on the back of his neck in nervousness, he steps toward the door where Chanyeol is standing and extending the paper for Baekhyun to grab. When the boy tries to reach for it, however, the guitarist pulls it back over the boy’s head and stares down. Surprised eyes look up at him then at the paper, and Baekhyun's forehead crinkles softly into a frown.

“I have a favor,” Chanyeol continues when he realizes the shorter isn’t going to say anything. He can't wrap his head around why Baekhyun is so submissive and cowardly – he’d probably even wash his feet for him if he’d asked. There is no need to beat around the bush since his request will be fulfilled anyway, so he goes right for the catch.

“I need you to take care of my attendance,” he says.

The creases in Baekhyun's forehead deepen. “…What?”

Chanyeol hands the roster to the boy. “You’re in charge of submitting the final attendance marks, aren’t you? You have access to the system on the computer.” The boy takes it with cautious hands. “Change my absent to present before you submit the final record, that’s all. You can do that for me, right?”

Again, Baekhyun just looks down at the floor with pursed lips and no answer. There's something in his character that reminds Chanyeol of the word Sehun had used to call him. It's in the way he avoids his gaze and stands like his feet are stepping on a mine field instead of on tiled ground. It's in the way he tries to measure each word before uttering it, in his eyes, those two raven eyes that are always slanted toward the earth like he doesn't have the right to look up. He is so tiny and helpless and weak that it bothers Chanyeol, makes him impatient and rough.

“Right?” he repeats without patience, taking a step toward the boy. Baekhyun stumbles back just the slightest and turns his head away.

Chanyeol has always lacked self-control, loses it with the tiniest touch to the trigger of his gun. That is why then, the shot fires.

“You know," he says, heat rising, "this shouldn’t be that hard. You owe me something, and I’m asking you own up to it.” The boy’s uniform collar grips easily in his fist despite the strain in his wrist begging him to stop. “And I need you to look at me when I talk. Look at me.”

When Baekhyun shudders and closes his eyes, Chanyeol shakes him hard enough that his head rolls back to face him. Eyebrows furrowed, the boy breathes hard as he pries his eyes back open. Chanyeol’s scorching gaze beats down on him.

“You heard what Mrs. Kwon and I were talking about, remember? You know secrets no one else knows,” the guitarist says, tightening his hold. “So guess what that means? You’re in my debt.”

The choking isn't issued in a life-threatening grip, but because Baekhyun's nervous system is firing a million flight response messages by the second, his forehead glows red and his temple pulses from the lack of oxygen. Veins portrude in mean gashes across the height of his neck and the tears in his eyes fall hot and burning down onto Chanyeol’s clenched fists. When they hiss on the guitarists skin, hot like acid, they make Chanyeol grit his teeth for a moment before he lets Baekhyun go. The tears feel toxic, tell him just how poisoned he has become.

Legs weakened, the boy falls back onto one of the desks with an inaudible gasp when Chanyeol releases him.

“One, you will keep my attendance perfect from today forth," the towering guitarist says, "Two, you will ask Mrs. Kwon for my assignments at the end of each day; and three, you will complete all of those assignments. Every morning that an assignment is due, you'll meet me at the stairs we met at last time at 7:45 sharp, and if you have any questions, come to my dorm but don't wake me up when I'm sleeping. And if you don’t do everything I’ve mentioned just now," Chanyeol pauses, letting out a breath, then says, "you'll face the consequences.”

He throws Baekhyun’s phone down at him but makes sure it’s cushioned by the boy’s lap. Why does he even care if it breaks or not? The question in his head makes Chanyeol broil.

“And like I said last time, don’t tell anyone.”

Without waiting for an answer from Baekhyun, he turns on his heel and leaves.

He doesn’t kick the boy as he sits vulnerably on the cold tile floor.

He doesn’t spit at him or steal his wallet.

He’s different from Sehun, he tells himself, because Sehun would have done all of that and more. He would never stoop down to that level.

But Baekhyun is different, too. When Chanyeol thinks he’s distanced himself enough with the lump of guilt, he shouts in frustration as he rams his fist into the first tree he sees. Every inch of his skin scorches in burning flame as the bark scrapes into his knuckles, and when he tries to slam his fist in again, a voice stops him.

“If you need help from someone, you can just ask,” it says, trembling and full of short breaths.

Chanyeol winces as he takes his fist off the dark tree and sees it come off red. At the turn of his head, he sees Baekhyun standing with firm feet planted on the ground with an unwavering gaze. What's come over him, Chanyeol doesn't know.

“I’m not indebted to you and I don’t have to do anything you ask," he says, "but I’ll help you because I know you need it.”

Chanyeol almost hits him. This kid with the ing audacity to say something like that; he doesn't need his help, he's just... he just... 

Agitated, Chanyeol almost closes the distance between them and slams his bloody fist on Baekhyun’s jaw instead of on the tree. He almost sheds more blood; kind of wants to, actually. But no matter how much he wants to, he doesn’t. Instead, he steps back, controls his breathing, and walks away. He ignores the shouting from the boy behind him and tries not to throw himself on a wall so hard he won't be able to feel the physical body he is trapped in. 

As he climbs the stairs up to his dorm, he tries not to scream and grip at the sides of his head where the jarring truth fights to break thin surface. It bangs; it begs for him to acknowledge it, to admit. When he lies in bed to sleep, he does. 

He, Park Chanyeol, who wants to believe that he is a bigger person than Oh Sehun is, ended up acting just like the old friend he hates. The sad truth is that Chanyeol can't stand the sight of himself these days.

"Sehun, what the are you doing?"

Chanyeol paces in the narrow aisle of the electronics store.

"What does it look like I'm doing? You're the smart one; you should know."

"Take the ing camera lens out of your pocket – do you even know how much trouble you could get us into?"

"Well if you'd just shut the up, no one would know, right? Calm down. I've done this too many times to get caught."

"Kris, what the are you doing just standing there? You're just gonna watch Sehun steal a thousand dollar DSLR piece?"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Shove off you twats. I'm leaving."

Chanyeol places a strong grip on Sehun's arm as the younger tries to sneak out of the electronics store.

"Let me go, you ing –“ Sehun thrashes under his hold, jerking his arm away. “God, you ing idiots. The clerk is looking at us; off!"

"Leave the lens, Sehun," Chanyeol warns with a stern voice, tightening the grip on the younger's arm.

"Who the are you to tell me what to do? What, just 'cause you have better grades and you think you know what’s right and what’s wrong for me?" he spits, "Don't be such a hypocrite, Chanyeol; you don't give two s about justice."

"That's not what I'm saying," the guitarist says.

"Then what? Just stop trying to play hero, okay? You’re a ing coward, that’s what you are. Neither of you have balls and I'm sick of your nagging so get your hands off of me."

"Stop being such a kid,” Chanyeol says, losing patience, but he doesn't give up just yet. “Put back the damn camera lens so we can get out of here."

"You let go of me! You don't like me doing this , then fine. I don't care, just leave me alone. But you know what? You're not being fair. How come you get to beat up some kid for money while I can't steal some photographer's toy? If anything, you're the real criminal."

“What did you just say?” Chanyeol says, the rim of his eyes reddening. His voice grows louder. “Say that again, Oh Sehun.”

Kris steps in between them.

"Keep your voices down. They're looking," he warns. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? Take whatever this is outside.”

“I said you’re a hypocrite.” Sehun spits on the guitarist’s shirt as Kris pulls them out of the store. “Arrogant as .”

“Hey,” Kris says, shoving Sehun away. “Watch yourself.”

“You watch yourself. You too, you know. You're a disloyal piece of ,” Sehun retaliates, the last few inches he’d grown in the previous year evident in the way he looms close to their heights. “Always siding with Chanyeol. When he does something bad, it's okay, but whenever I do it, it's wrong, huh? I can't believe you guys are chickening out over something so small like this. You guys are ing–”

Chanyeol socks him so hard that he bleeds upon the impact. Sehun’s vision grows dark and his temples vibrate madly.

“You say it and we end it here," he warns.

The younger straightens from the blow and saunters into Chanyeol’s space, almost huffing at the absurd situation.

“We end it here?" he asks, "Yeah, okay – that’s cool. It's good, actually. I’ve been waiting for you guys to say it all these years, you know. So let me with your strong pride one last time before I leave.”

Chanyeol’s quaking hand clenches and unclenches in and out of a fist when Sehun looks up at him with swollen, watery eyes.

“You guys are ing wimps.”

A shocking blow is delivered to Sehun’s expecting face, and Chanyeol walks away.

For the first time in high school, he allows himself to shed angry tears, but he’s not crying because he’s angry at Sehun. He’s crying because Kris is asking if he’s okay and Kris is following him out after their fight and Kris is always on his side. Sehun has nobody, and he's the reason for the loneliness that eats the kid up inside out.

Chanyeol lets himself cry, let's his shoulders shake pathetically, lets Kris comfort him, because maybe that way he won’t feel guilty for thinking that Sehun had deserved it all.

Maybe that way, he'd be able to forgive himself.

  Author's Notes  

So there's KrisYeolHun backstory. Sorry for the slow update as always; school is calling :c

By the way, if anyone's interested, I post up teasers and updates on my twitter @elepantstears so follow if you want sneak-peeks and whatnot. I'm posting up a little "contest/quiz" kinda thing on EFM on that twitter later today (with prizes) so visit!