'I sense a runner in the garden, although my judgement's known to fail

Once built a steamboat in a meadow, ‘cause I'd forgotten how to sail

I know the runner's going to tell you there ain't no cowboy in my hat

So now he's buried by the daisies, so I could stay the tallest man in your eyes, babe

 

I sense a spy up in the chimney from all the evidence I've burned

I guess he'll read it in the smoke now, and soon to ashes I'll return

I know the spy is going to tell you it's not my flag up in the pole

So now he's buried by the lilies, so I could stay forevermore in your eyes, babe

 

I sense a leak inside my phone now, from all the lies that I have told

I know he has your private number, and soon he'll make that vicious call

I know the leak is going to tell you there ain't no puppy in your leash

So now he'll fertilise the roses, so I could stay the king you see in your eyes, babe

 

So now we're dancing through the garden, and what a garden I have made

And now that death will grow my jasmine, I find it soothing, I'm afraid

Now there is no need for suspicion; there ain't no frog kissing your hand

I won't be lying when I tell you, that I'm a gardener, I'm a man in your eyes, babe.’

 

 

 

+ + + + +

 

 

Chanyeol can think of a million things he’d rather be doing right now.

 

Fun, relaxing things, like sitting in his treehouse, listening to music or reading comics.

 

Being chased by Jongdae’s stupid dog is pretty far down the list. Hell, he’d rather be doing his homework, and that’s saying something.

 

 

It’s certainly not the first time Jongdae has set his dog on Chanyeol, so he should be used to this by now. As far as dogs go, it’s not very big, but it’s a vicious creature; it runs alongside him, snapping at his heels, and he’s gunning it down the street as fast as his little legs can carry him, but then he trips over something sticking out of the ground and falls flat on his face on the pavement.

 

Groaning, Chanyeol lifts his head to find a pair of feet standing in front of him, encased in leather boots. He looks up to find a girl of roughly his own age with a pretty face, dressed entirely in black. Black jeans and a black leather jacket. Black, shoulder-length hair. Black eyes. By contrast, if her skin were any paler it would probably be transparent.

 

The girl peers down at him curiously. “Are you alright..?”

 

Chanyeol sits up and dusts himself off. “Yeah… I guess...” The girl offers her hand to help him up, but he shakes his head.

 

“Thanks, but… I’m fine… I really need to get home..” he says quietly, struggling to his feet and wincing in pain. He looks down and discovers he’s now the proud owner of torn, dirty school trousers and two scraped, bloody knees.

 

“Why were you running..?” the girl asks, and Chanyeol’s eyes widen when he remembers.

 

Jongdae’s dog..

 

“That dog… it was--”

 

Chanyeol turns around to look for the dog and finds it still standing there several metres behind him, but the dog doesn’t seem all that interested in him anymore; instead it’s staring at the girl in black and quivering violently.

 

It looks absolutely terrified.

 

The dog slowly takes a few steps backwards and runs away whimpering with its tail between its legs. Chanyeol watches it until it disappears from view and turns back to the girl.

 

“Um, how did you do that..?”

 

The girl in black looks at him blankly. “Do what?”

 

Chanyeol gawks at her and shakes his head. “Never mind… what’s your name?”

 

The girl hesitates for a moment, looking at him with wary eyes. “Taeyeon..”

 

Chanyeol nods. “I’m Chanyeol. Are you new around here? I’ve never seen you before.”

 

“Uh, I moved to this street a week ago,” Taeyeon says, as though this is common knowledge. “I live next door to you..”

 

“Oh. Yeah, I saw the trucks and stuff... Well, I’m guessing you don’t know anyone around here, so I can be your friend, if you want. What school are you going to--?”

 

“I can’t,” Taeyeon says quietly, interrupting him.

 

Chanyeol stares at her, confused. “You can’t..?”

 

Taeyeon looks downwards, toeing the ground nervously with her shoe. “I can’t be friends with you,” she mumbles, only she seems to be saying it to the concrete slab beneath her feet instead of Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol’s heart sinks. It’s like other kids can smell the unpopularity on him, or something. “Oh. Well… why not..?”

 

“I just can’t..” Taeyeon replies brusquely, and she begins to walk away.

 

Chanyeol watches her for a while, wondering if he should say something or not.

 

“Suit yourself, then,” he calls out after her, but she doesn’t turn around.

 

 

 

+ + + + +

 

 

“I know you don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions, Yeol, but I’m making one on your behalf,” Jongin declares; he’s waving his drink around and Chanyeol estimates he’s about 2.5 seconds away from spilling it all over himself. “This year, I’m going to find you a boyfriend. Then we can all go out together without you automatically being the third wheel.”

 

“Okay, firstly, it’s already March. And secondly, I have no qualms about being the third wheel,” Chanyeol says drily. “I’m immune to all the PDAs by now.”

 

“Oh, ha ha..” Jongin replies sarcastically. His eyes drift over to the stage at the front of the bar, where a young man in a tuxedo sits at the grand piano playing A Wink and a Smile.

 

“What do you think of that guy over there..?”

 

Chanyeol exhales forcefully. He can already see where this is going. “What guy?”

 

“The one playing the piano. He’s pretty good, huh?”

 

“Well, that depends. Are you referring to his skills, or his face..?”

 

“Both,” Jongin replies. “Hey, he keeps looking at you, too..”

 

Chanyeol decides to sneak a furtive glance at the pianist, who happens to be so attractive that he immediately turns his head away again. A guy like that checking him out would be improbable, at best.

 

“I think you’re seeing things, Jongin. No more mojitos for you..”

 

“I’m serious,” Jongin insists, “he legit keeps looking at you. There he goes again.”

 


Chanyeol shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Maybe he listens to my show, and he recognises me, or something. Or, maybe he’s looking this way because you keep staring at him, which I think is much more likely..”

 

“Nah, I don’t think that’s it,” Jongin replies, studying the pianist intently. “And if he did recognise you, looking at you once would be enough… maybe a double-take just to make sure. Anyway, no offence man, but you’re not that famous.”

 

“None taken,” Chanyeol replies through a mouthful of ice cubes.

 

“Wow. This guy’s on four or five stolen glances already. He's got it bad..”

 

“Quit it, Jongin. You’re probably putting the poor guy off his performance..” Chanyeol sighs, but once Jongin’s on a roll it’s impossible to shut him up.

 

“He totally is. He’s so obviously checking you out… which can mean one of two things, really. It means he either thinks you’re -ugly or bangin’. 50-50 odds…  that’s not bad, Yeol. I think you should go up there and get a slice of that pie.”

 

Chanyeol snorts. “No way..”

 

“Why not?” Jongin frowns. “You’ve been single for ages. In fact, in the entire time we’ve been friends, you've had, what.. one boyfriend who lasted three months...? By all means, correct me if I'm wrong.."

 

“Don’t make out like it’s a bad thing. My being single is a personal lifestyle choice.”

 

“Which is something all chronically single people say..”

 

Chanyeol huffs indignantly and trots out his usual excuse. “You know what it’s like… pickings are a little slim these days, and I’m particular about who I get close to, you know? I’m just looking for someone who’s, well…”

 

Jongin buries his head in his hands and groans. “Don’t start.”

 

Chanyeol grins. “On my wavelength. Tuned in to my frequency..”

 

“The radio jokes are why you’re single,” Jongin says flatly. “That, and you don’t know how to separate your professional life from your personal life. Your professional life is your life - I had to twist your arm just to get you to have a drink with me tonight. There’s more to life than work, you know..”

 

Chanyeol sighs and fiddles with one of the soggy cardboard coasters on the table. “If someone comes along who can give me more satisfaction than my job can, then that’s great… but until then, I’m flying solo.”

 

“Why don’t you just try, Yeol? Do you know how I ended up with Kyungsoo? I asked him out – that’s how. I took the plunge and he said yes, and the rest, as they say, is history. I just want you to be happy too.”

 

“I am happy. And I’m overjoyed for you both, I really am, but not everyone wants to be shacked up. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Jongin says, apparently not listening. “Look, Yeol, he’s taking a break. Now’s your chance.”

 

“Let it go already. Anyway, what makes you think he’s even my type?”

 

“We all know you don’t have a ‘type’, Chanyeol. Your ‘type’ is anything pretty,” Jongin replies matter-of-factly. “And that dude over there is the dictionary definition of pretty.”

 

“Give me a little credit, Jongin,” Chanyeol sighs, “I think there’s a little more to me than that.”

 

“Prove it, then. Show me what you’re really made of, and go up there and ask him on a date. I’m willing to bet all the cash I have on my person right now that you won’t.”

 

Chanyeol looks at Jongin for a long time, his eye twitching. Jongin stares back at him unblinkingly.

 

He knows I can’t resist an official challenge, the prick.

 

“I could, if I wanted to..” Chanyeol pouts, jutting his chin out defensively.

 

“Alright then, let’s see you put your money where your mouth is,” Jongin replies, goading him on. “And you’ve got a big mouth, too, so the stakes ought to be high.”

 

Chanyeol looks at the pianist again, chewing his lip in thought. This time the pianist looks up at him and holds his gaze for a good few seconds before looking away.

 

A sign, perhaps.

 

Chanyeol doesn’t believe in fighting destiny, so he takes the bait.

 

“Okay. Fine. 20,000 Won says I will,” he says coolly, “and 30,000 says I’ll come back with his digits. And you’ll be buying the next two rounds.”

 

“Ooooh, you’re on.”

 

“My pleasure; your funeral…” Chanyeol mutters as he gets up from his seat. He slaps three crisp 10,000 Won notes down upon the table, and Jongin does the same.

 

“Now, go easy on the crappy jokes,” Jongin advises him. “Don’t give it all up right away; make sure you save something for the second date.”

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Jongin.”

 

Jongin chuckles and waves him off. “You’ll thank me on your wedding day.”

 

Chanyeol pushes his chair in with a nod of acknowledgement and strides purposefully over to where the pianist is sitting. He appears to be too busy flicking through his sheet music to notice Chanyeol approaching. He’s even more attractive up close, almost frighteningly so, and Chanyeol can feel his swagger draining out through his feet and into the floor with every step he takes. By the time he arrives at the piano, he wants to turn on his heel and go back the way he came, but it’s too late for that now. He’s still got a sliver of pride left, and it won’t let him abandon ship.

 

The pianist looks up curiously, his eyes widening a fraction, but it’s just enough for Chanyeol to notice. It catches him off guard and makes him trip over his words a little.

 

“H-Hello. I noticed you were looking at me earlier, so I just thought I’d come say hi and tell you that you’re very talented, and also very cute, and... , I’m rambling, aren’t I..?”

 

A smile slowly spreads across the man’s face. “A little bit.”

 

Chanyeol isn’t used to this. He makes a living out of smooth-talking his listeners and finding clever ways to fill the silence, but one look at the pianist has him drawing nothing but blanks.

 

He clears his throat nervously and gives himself a pep talk.

 

Come on, man. This much dead air during a broadcast would get you fired..

 

But the whole pep-talking thing isn’t really working for him tonight. It used to help him out a lot when he was young, at a time when simply getting himself to school required considerable mental preparation. It took a lot of guts to face all those daily demons - his classmates, that is, not the imaginary kind – but the pianist is so stunning that he effectively turns all of Chanyeol’s thoughts into indecipherable nonsense.

 

Chanyeol takes in the dark eyes; the smooth, milky skin; those fine-boned, wonderfully elegant hands, with their long fingers - perfect for playing the piano. He’s never been this close to anyone so intimidatingly attractive in his life, but he decides to carry on in his noble quest. The hardest yards have already been done anyway.

 

“What’s your name?” he says at last, swallowing nervously, and it sounds so loud inside his own ears despite all the background noise in the room.

 

“Baekhyun,” the pianist replies, lips quirking in amusement. “Dr. Shorty, I presume?”

 

Chanyeol blinks at him in surprise. “You know who I am..?”

 

Baekhyun smiles. “Yeah, I know who you are. Even if I didn’t know your face, I’d recognise that voice anywhere. I really enjoy your show, by the way, but I have to ask – why ‘Dr. Shorty’? You’re very far from being short, and I’m assuming you’re not a doctor, either.”

 

“Oh, it’s just one of those ironic nicknames…" Chanyeol explains, "you’re not meant to take it seriously... I go by Chanyeol when I’m off the air, anyway.”

 

Still smiling, Baekhyun holds out a hand for him to shake. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Chanyeol.”

 

Chanyeol takes Baekhyun’s hand in his own and obliges, but his own smile quickly fades when he notices how incredibly cold the hand is. Baekhyun also has a surprisingly firm grip, so firm as to actually be painful, and Chanyeol swears he can hear the sound of his own bones cracking. It makes him flinch visibly.

 

“Are you alright there? Was my handshake a bit too firm for you?” Baekhyun asks, not unkindly, as he retracts his hand.

 

“Uh, no,” Chanyeol lies, “not at all. It’s just that… pardon me for saying so, but your hands are absolutely freezing..”

 

Baekhyun laughs – a husky, breathy laugh that sounds slightly forced. “Let’s just say I have problems with my circulation.”

 

“I see. So… you’re probably wondering why I came over here, other than to bore you with my terrible attempts at conversation..”

 

Baekhyun shrugs. “Not really, no.”

 

“Ah. Well, I was sort of wondering if you’d like to have coffee with me sometime.”

 

Baekhyun smiles with one side of his mouth. “I don’t drink coffee.”

 

Chanyeol blows his fringe out of his eyes. Okay, so that was a bit of a curveball.

 

“Dinner, then?” he says hopefully, “I’m assuming you eat dinner, at least occasionally..”

 

Baekhyun thinks about this for a moment and finally shrugs. “Okay, sure. Why not?”

 

Chanyeol grins. Ah, sweet success. “Good... Great…”

 

“Uh-huh,” Baekhyun says, smiling back. His eyes are sparkling with mischief. “So, did you win big?”

 

Chanyeol blinks at him, puzzled. “I beg your pardon..?”

 

“You know - the bet,” Baekhyun replies, jerking his thumb in Jongin’s general direction.

 

Chanyeol’s stomach drops. “Oh.”

 

Baekhyun laughs and bites his lip. “It’s alright, you don’t need to pretend around me; I kinda figured it out on my own. I saw the chips go down.”

 

“Aha. You got me..” Chanyeol says with an embarrassed chuckle.

 

“So it would seem,” Baekhyun says, still smiling.

 

“I really do think you’re very beautiful, though, and that’s the honest truth,” Chanyeol insists, “the bet was just an afterthought – and all my friend’s idea, I might add.”

 

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

 

Chanyeol sighs and turns his head to the side, looking around for something to write on. He pulls out a pen from his pocket and swipes a clean napkin off the nearest table.

 

“Look… I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of guy, so I’ll tell you what. I’ll write my number on this napkin here, and then you can decide if you really want to join me for dinner or not. I’ll effectively lose the bet if I do that, since my success is riding on me returning to that table with your number in my hand. What do you say?”

 

Having said this, he scrawls his number on the napkin and hands it to Baekhyun. The pianist accepts the napkin with a smile and folds it in half before slipping it into the pocket of his jacket.

 

“How noble of you..”

 

“I do what I can,” Chanyeol replies, smiling. He very nearly offers his hand for Baekhyun to shake again, but then thinks better of it. “I really do hope you’ll call me. I guess I’ll see you ‘round.”

 

Baekhyun nods and gives him a little two- salute. “See you.”

 

 

Chanyeol lets out a quiet sigh and makes his way back to his seat. Jongin looks up at him questioningly.

 

“Well? Did you get his number?”

 

“Not quite, but I gave him mine. He knew we were betting on him, by the way..”

 

Jongin raises an eyebrow. “He did? Whoopsy. Was he annoyed?”

 

Chanyeol shakes his head and takes a sip of his neglected drink, now heavily diluted from the melted ice. “Nah,” he says, making a face, “if anything, he seemed to find it amusing..”

 

Jongin shrugs. “Whatever. Anyhow, Casanova, seeing as you’ve returned sans digits, you’ve technically lost the bet. So I’ll be claiming my winnings now, if that’s alright with you.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Chanyeol sighs, pushing the prize pool towards Jongin, “but if he ends up calling me after all this, you're buying me a beer.”

 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see if that happens first,” Jongin says. He winks at Chanyeol as he pockets the money.

 

“Oh, it’ll happen,” Chanyeol replies, feeling pleased with himself, “it’ll happen.”

 

 

+ + + + +

 

 

[To the pianist who performed at Lounge Bar on Saturday night - you're the loveliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. On the off chance you're listening to this, call me sometime on 555 1127 and I’ll play you anything you want.

This next song is for you.]

 

 

 + + + + +

 

 

It doesn’t happen.

 

Well, not right away.

 

Everyday for the rest of the week, Chanyeol waits for Baekhyun to call him like a kid waiting for Christmas, but Christmas doesn’t come until the most inopportune time, when he’s rushing to his car after work with armfuls of groceries. He can barely see over the stacked family-packs of scented toilet paper he’s carrying, and almost walks right into something as a result.

When that something turns out to be a someone, Chanyeol pokes his head out to the side, a pre-prepared apology fresh on his lips, and nearly drops his entire load.

 

“Goodness me, that’s a lot of toilet paper you’ve got there,” Baekhyun says with a mischievous smile. "Are you having a T.P. party?"

 

Chanyeol promptly dies a little inside.

 

Of all the places to bump into him..

 

Well, go on, then. Bowl him over with something witty and clever and fantastic.

 

 

“Nah, I just like to keep regular,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

 

 

Oh god. Well, you tried.

 

 

Baekhyun laughs anyway. To his credit, he does a convincing job of it.

 

“You know, I was just thinking about you..” he says.

 

Chanyeol raises his eyebrows and bends down to rest his shopping on the ground for a moment. “Oh really..?”

 

Baekhyun nods. “Yeah. There I was, walking down the street, thinking about whether I should finally call you or not… and then lo and behold, I see a walking tower of Wondersoft heading right towards me.”

 

“It was on special,” Chanyeol laughs nervously, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “I quite like the lavender-scented kind.”

 

Baekhyun tilts his head, studying Chanyeol closely. “I see. I’m more of a peach blossom kind of guy, myself.”

 

“I feel like this is a weird thing to bring up while we're discussing toilet paper preferences,” Chanyeol says, “but have you given that dinner idea any further consideration..?”

 

Baekhyun looks thoughtful for a moment.

 

“Sure,” he says at last, “I’ll have dinner with you.”

 

Chanyeol isn't sure he heard correctly. “You will?”

 

Baekhyun nods and bites his lip, apparently trying to hold back another megawatt smile. "Yeah. And maybe afterwards we can go T.P. people’s houses together.."

 

Chanyeol laughs. "Oh. Well... sounds like a plan."

 

"Mmm. That was a joke, by the way.."

 

“Of course it was. So, uh… how about Friday night?”

 

Baekhyun shakes his head. “I’ve got a gig booked for Friday night. Maybe Thursday?”

 

“Oh right, of course… yeah, Thursday night would be great, actually,” Chanyeol replies. He bends down to pick up his shopping, and nearly drops it again when he looks up and sees Baekhyun standing right in front of him, well within the socially acceptable boundaries of personal space.

 

Chanyeol swallows and feels his palms begin to sweat as Baekhyun looks him right in the eye, still smiling that secretive smile. He then pulls a pen from his pocket and rips open one of the packs of toilet paper in Chanyeol’s arms.

 

“May I..?”

 

“Uh..”

 

Baekhyun doesn’t give Chanyeol a chance to reply before he unravels a few sheets from one of the toilet rolls and scribbles something onto it. Chanyeol squints at it and realises it’s a phone number.

 

“Call me when you get off work on Thursday,” Baekhyun says, ripping the pieces with his number off the end of the roll. Chanyeol nearly jumps three feet in the air when he feels the pianist’s fingers tuck the piece of toilet paper into his trouser pocket, lingering there against his hip for a moment before pulling away.

 

“Alright,” Baekhyun says brightly, “I’ll see you Thursday, then. Call me!”

 

He gets halfway down the street before turning back around again.

 

“Oh, and thanks for the song dedication, by the way,” he calls out. “It was very sweet.”

 

Chanyeol watches Baekhyun walk away in awed silence until he disappears from sight. Elated, he picks up his shopping and resumes the trip to his car, but by the time he sinks into the driver’s seat the feelings of triumph have crumbled away, and other less pleasant emotions begin to sprout from their ruins.

 

In an attempt to fight them off he closes his eyes and imagines what Baekhyun will look like when they meet on Thursday. What he’ll wear. If his hair will look as expertly, effortlessly disheveled as it did just then when they bumped into each other. If his lips are as soft and kissable as they look.

 

He wonders what it will feel like to hold Baekhyun’s hand… although if that bone-crunching first handshake was anything to go by, maybe handholding wouldn’t be such a good idea.

 

Chanyeol shakes the daydreams away and fishes his mobile from his pocket, dialing Jongin’s number. He can’t keep himself from cracking a smile when he hears his friend pick up the phone.

 

“Hey. Guess who owes me a beer..?”

 

 

 

 + + + + +

 

 

 

“Here comes the sun, little darling…”

 

Chanyeol sits in his treehouse, humming along to his music player and flicking through today’s comic, just like he does everyday after school. Well, it’s not really a treehouse, as such; he’d begged his parents for a proper treehouse when he was younger, but their yard was sorely lacking a tree big enough for the job. So his dad had built him a small wooden shed by the back fence instead.

 

Close enough.

 

At thirteen years of age he’s probably a bit old to be sitting around in a little wooden house built for a boy of six, but Chanyeol doesn’t care. Even if he grew until his legs were hanging halfway out the door, he would still sit there.

 

A mosquito buzzes around him, looking for somewhere to land, and he waves it away. It settles on his arm anyway and he leaves it there, studying it carefully as it feeds on him. Eventually he squashes it with his finger and wipes the resulting red smear off on his trousers.

 

After a while he senses someone watching him and looks up to find a figure standing in the doorway.

 

“Oh, you again… where did you come from..?”

 

Taeyeon looks at him with that same blank expression she was wearing when they met. “There’s a hole in the fence,” she says simply.

 

“Ah. Do you often wander into other people’s backyards..?”

 

Taeyeon shrugs but doesn’t say anything.

 

“Well, you can come in, if you want,” Chanyeol replies, “oh, but you don’t know the secret knock… so I guess you can’t.”

 

Once again Taeyeon remains silent, watching Chanyeol curiously, and it begins to make him feel a little uneasy.

 

“Well, are you going to just stand there all day, or what? Come on in.”

 

“But I don’t know the secret knock..”

 

“There isn’t one,” Chanyeol sighs, “I just made that up. Come.”

 

Taeyeon enters the treehouse hesitantly and sits herself down on the wooden floor next to him.

 

“What were you singing before..?” she asks.

 

Chanyeol blushes a little. How long had she been standing there?

 

“Oh… I was just listening to music, that's all…”

 

“I see. Can I listen too?”

 

Chanyeol nods and passes over one of his earphones. “Sure.”

 

They listen together in silence for a little while, and Chanyeol watches Taeyeon’s face for a reaction, but it’s unreadable.

 

“It’s a nice song,” she says at last.

 

“Mmm. It’s my favourite. It’s kind of old, but I love it anyway."

 

Taeyeon nods. “Do you always sit in here?”

 

“I’m not really supposed to go outside, so I hang around in here a lot,” Chanyeol replies. “I’m kind of allergic to sunlight..”

 

 “Ah. That doesn’t sound very fun.”

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “Yeah. It gives me a weird rash, even if I stand in the sun uncovered for only a few minutes... it’s gross and itchy as hell and it hurts. The kids at school make fun of me and say I’m diseased and stuff, but there’s nothing I can do about it..”

 

“I’m not supposed to go out in the sun either,” Taeyeon replies, “but if I cover myself up it’s okay.”

 

“Oh… are you allergic to the sun too..?”

 

Taeyeon shakes her head. “No. I just burn really easily.”

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

Chanyeol’s stomach sinks a little. Of course she didn’t have the same thing he did… even when she was standing outside the shed earlier, unsheltered from the sun, her skin had been unmarked.

 

Soft and smooth and perfect.

 

“I can scratch you, if you’re itchy,” Taeyeon says suddenly, “like, the areas you can’t reach, and stuff.”

 

Chanyeol can’t help laughing at the unusual offer. “Thanks, but… I’m all good for now.”

 

Taeyeon simply nods and doesn’t say anything more about it.

 

"You know, if people are making fun of you… well, you shouldn't let them treat you like that,” she says quietly.

 

Chanyeol looks at her, confused. "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

 

Taeyeon shrugs. "Stand up for yourself? Dob them in?"

 

"No thanks,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head. “I’ve been beaten up for less..”

 

"Do you want me to scare them off so they'll leave you alone?"

 

Chanyeol looks at Taeyeon for a moment in surprise and promptly bursts into peals of laughter.

 

Taeyeon frowns at him. Apparently it had been a serious suggestion. "Why are you laughing..?"

 

"Because what could you possibly do?” Chanyeol says, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You're a girl, for one thing, and you're smaller than me. If I can't fight them off, what makes you think you can?"

 

"I’m not automatically weak just because I’m a girl…" Taeyeon replies a tad defensively.

 

“Hmm. Well… maybe someday you can prove me wrong..” Chanyeol says, and he starts laughing again.

 

“What’s so funny..?”

 

"First you don’t want to be my friend, and now you want to be my personal bodyguard all of a sudden,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head, “you really are strange. Do you even go to my school…?”

 

“I don’t go to school.”

 

“What do you mean, you don’t go to school..?”

 

Taeyeon holds Chanyeol’s gaze for a moment, but then her eyes flicker away. “I just… don’t go to school,” she says quietly, “I’ve always been homeschooled.”

 

Chanyeol frowns. “Oh. That must be a bit lonely..”

 

Taeyeon shrugs. “I guess. I  suppose I don’t know any better…” She pops Chanyeol’s earphone out of her ear and hands it back to him. “Anyway, I’d better go..”

 

“Okay. See you.”

 

Taeyeon pokes her head back through the door. “Will you be in here tomorrow, do you think?”

 

Chanyeol smiles. “Yep. I’m in here pretty much everyday.”

 

Taeyeon smiles back at him, in a way that suggests she doesn’t really know how to smile, but Chanyeol finds it quite beautiful nonetheless. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

 

 

  + + + + +

 

 

[A few of you have been texting in asking about the beautiful pianist I mentioned a few