prologue;

His presence lingered in every part of the apartment even though his physical warmth had long faded away.

Chanyeol was in the edges of the library books that Kyungsoo never returned.

Shreds of the torn pages littered the floor, words ripped apart in dissonant chords against the carpet. Kyungsoo’s fingers stung with the various paper cuts. He can see the certain pages that they had dog-eared, bookmarks to share later.

Long fingers skimmed against his.

Sorry

It’s ok, Kyungsoo barely managed because wow, beautiful.

Laughing eyes meet wide ones. Both drop down past straight noses to pause at full lips. Then they skipped back to the same book.

You have good taste

Chanyeol was in the topmost cabinet that Kyungsoo could never reach.

They descended from the shelf faster than Kyungsoo had fallen. The metal strainers clattered to the floor while the glass bowls shattered. The remains of the other broken utensils scattered like autumn leaves at the feet of Kyungsoo’s chair.

Kyungsoo didn’t know why he had cleaned out that shelf last. Because all he knew that he had been broken too quietly. The sound of heartbreak was tragically silent.

Here let me help you

Kyungsoo didn’t think that reaching for a bowl involved Chanyeol pressing his lanky body against the younger’s or his large hand touching his waist. But he wasn’t complaining.

Thank you

Anytime, shorty

Chanyeol was in the vodka that Kyungsoo tried to drown his suffering in.

When he had finished destroying the kitchen – his sanctuary – Kyungsoo grabbed the chilled bottle from the table, the single thing untouched in the storm. He hated alcohol but he was desperate. Unscrewing the cap with shaking hands, his face contorted as he willed himself to finish every drop. Then he threw the container against the wall as he screamed from the ice-claw burn deep in his throat.

You’re drunk

A deep and throaty laugh and a rustle as muscled arms found a slender frame. Nah, I’m only intoxicated by you

Chanyeol was in the battered couch, the weight of his memory sinking and creating a spot that Kyungsoo could never fill.

The fabric of the piece of accursed furniture was by far the hardest to destroy. Even with the kitchen knife, Kyungsoo couldn’t completely rip it apart. It was as if all of Chanyeol’s annoying tendency to perpetual happiness had soaked into the material, making it far more resilient than Kyungsoo would ever be.

Kyungsoo, I’m lonely. Sleep with me

No, I have to go. Hey! No, stop—

The rest of his sentence was cut off as full lips met his and long arms curling around him, pulling him down into the rush of blankets.

Convincing enough?

You’re an idiot

Love you too, baby

Chanyeol was in the gray areas of the day when Kyungsoo couldn’t tell whether it was 7:24am or 7:24pm.

The tip of the knife buried itself in the wall, quivering before falling still. Wiping the sweat (he refused to believe they were tears) from his eyes, Kyungsoo stared out the window. He’d been so lost that neither knew nor cared the time anymore.

Hyung, it’s time to get up. We have to go.

No, Soo, came the slurred murmur from the valley of Kyungsoo’s neck. Five more minutes…

Fine, but I have to go –

Stay with me

Hyung…

Please

Kyungsoo sighed. He laid there, beneath 185cms of smiles and love, running his fingers through cinnamon hair and watching it fall back into place.

Don’t ever leave

I’ll be here... Always

His brilliant grin – so wide that it could raise the sun from the – in his mind’s eye.

His deep voice and laugh in his ear.

His kisses and touch branded on his skin.

His kisses that tasted of laughter, light and warmth on his tongue—

Chanyeol was in Kyungsoo

Chanyeol was everywhere and no amount of screaming, cursing, crying, breaking, slashing, or destroying Kyungsoo did would erase him.

Or bring him back.