This was a terrible idea.

Baekhyun was standing in front of the local library, his palms sweating and his heart pounding in his chest. He still couldn’t believe that he’d gotten this job.

He hadn’t even been planing on applying for a job that summer. The way he saw it, he had more than enough money saved up for University. All he wanted was to enjoy a slow, lazy summer while he still could. That had been his plan since the end of Christmas break. When he’d heard that there was an opening at their local library, however—the same library where Zitao worked—he’d submitted an application so fast he hadn’t had time to regret his decision until afterwards. 

Oh, how he regretted his decision now.

I can’t believe this is actually happening.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Baekhyun clenched at the strap of his messenger bag and walked through the library’s double doors. He felt nervous and shaky. He couldn’t really concentrate on anything even as he walked towards the circulation desk and tried to decide what to do. There wasn’t anyone sitting at the desk. Did he just walk around it and go into the back?

This is insane, he thought. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.

Then Zitao walked out of the back and Baekhyun’s breath caught in his chest.

The younger man was decked out in his normal black attire: a simple black t-shirt with dark-wash skinny jeans and black converse. His hair was dyed blond, something Baekhyun had always seen as an interesting contrast when compared to his outfits, and he had an armful of books that looked like dictionaries.

When he saw Baekhyun, however, he paused.

“Baekhyun?”

“Y-yeah, uh ... hey, Zitao.”

Zitao set the books down on the desk and smiled. “Hey. I heard that you got the job a few days ago. I’m glad. It’ll be nice to work with someone I know.”

“Same.”

“Come on back. I’ll show you how to sign in and where to start.”

“Oh ... okay.” Baekhyun moved behind the circulation desk and followed Zitao, still nervous but a little less so than before. Zitao could be very personable when he wanted, despite his awkward tendencies. Now seemed to be one of those times he was a bit more open.

Behind the circulation desk, there was a huge, office-type room. Zitao explained that the full-time librarians worked back there, sorting new books and adding them to the system. There was also a break room with a coffee maker, a couch, and a cute little fridge that they were free to use. Beside that, there was a table that had the timesheets for all the part-time workers. Zitao showed Baekhyun how to sign in and out, then they went back out to the circulation desk to begin his training.

“Our head librarian is very keen on rulebooks,” Zitao said, pulling a few large folders out of a cabinet under the desk, “So all new employees have to read these. It shouldn’t take you too long. Once you’re done with that, I can teach you how to use the dewey decimal system.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Baekhyun took the folders with a smile and sat down. 

As he started reading, he became very aware of where Zitao was. The younger man had taken a seat at one of the computers and now he was messing with something that looked like records. Baekhyun tried his best to stay focused while he flipped through the manuals he’d been given.

It wasn’t much to learn. Mostly, the manuals just outlined etiquette when talking to customers and how to check books in and out. It also briefly went over the dewey decimals, showed how to use the system on the computer to create cards for new customers, and how to open or close the library.

Simple enough, Baekhyun thought.

When he was finished, he put the manuals away and cleared his throat.

Zitao looked up from the computer and smiled. “Are you done?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Alright. Then follow me. I’ll explain the dewey decimal system so you can use it to sort books if you’re ever shelving or helping a customer find something.”

Baekhyun paused. “Wait, don’t we have to get someone to watch the front?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Mrs. Kim is in the back; she can help if anyone needs it. Training new employees is more important. Besides.” Zitao smiled and stood, towering over Baekhyun. “Monday afternoons are always really slow.”

Baekhyun’s mouth went dry. “Oh ... okay.”

He’s so tall.

Still a bit starstruck, Baekhyun followed Zitao through the rows of shelves, listening intently as the younger man explained how the system worked. It was relatively simple; Baekhyun had never thought he’d be able to learn it as quickly as he did, and he wondered if it was because the system was super easy, because Zitao was a good teacher, or a combination of the two.

Since Baekhyun was biased, he automatically went with the latter.

“Do you think you’ve got it?” Zitao asked.

Baekhyun nodded. “Yeah, but I doubt I’ll remember all the genres and their assigned numbers any time soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re not expected to memorize those. We have a chart up at the front desk that details that for us.”

“Thank God,” Baekhyun said, relieved.

Zitao gave him a shy smile and turned to head back toward the circulation desk. Baekhyun trailed along behind him, thinking over everything he’d learned and trying not to let his eyes wander over Zitao’s slim form. He had a peculiar sort of saunter to the way he walked; it wasn’t cocky, though, it was more confident than anything.

Despite his general shy attitude, Zitao was confident in himself and in his abilities.

That knowledge made Baekhyun smile.

The library was still just as empty as before when they got back to the circulation desk. Zitao told him he could always ask if he was unsure about something—that, or he could consult the manuals. Baekhyun thanked him and then fell silent, sitting down in the chair he’d occupied before and watching as Zitao did the same.

Baekhyun wanted to try and start a conversation, but he wasn’t sure where to begin. Also, Zitao seemed to be pretty enrgossed in the book he’d pulled out of nowhere.

I’m so awkward sometimes, I swear.

“Um ...” he tried.

Zitao looked over at him, blinking. “Hm?”

“Oh, uh, I was just ... wondering what you were reading?”

“A really great book.” Zitao straightened, flashing the cover at Baekhyun. “It’s called Bird.”

“Bird?”

“Yeah. This little girl named Bird runs away from home, looking for her father after he left her and her mother a few months back. She meets people and has adventures, and it’s ... it’s sad, but it ends up being more wistful than anything.”

“Wistful.” Baekhyun liked that word. It sounded exactly like what it meant. He thought of past summers and of his parents and of how he was graduating soon and of missed oppurtunites and decided that wistful applied to a lot of his life. Too much, actually. 

And now there he was, sitting next to Huang Zitao and letting all his oppurtunities slip away from him yet again. How pathetic.

“Do you have a bike?”

Baekhyun jolted a little, startled out of his thoughts. “What?”

“A bike. Do you have one?”

“Oh, uh ... yeah. I do. Why?”

Zitao smiled. “I just got a new one a few days ago and I haven’t really had a chance to test it yet. I’m also not familiar enough with the town to go off on my own without risking getting lost.”

A slow smile crept across Baekhyun’s face. “Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve been riding around here for years. I know all the best routes.”

“I get off at three,” Zitao said. “What about you?”

“Three thirty.”

“That would give me time to get back to my house and pick up my bike. Then I could meet you at your house and we could go on from there. How’s that sound?”

Baekhyun grinned. “That sounds perfect.”

By the time Zitao pulled up to Baekhyun’s house on his shiny, black bike, Baekhyun was a bundle of nerves. His own bike was old and somewhat rickety—the gears had long since stopped working and he was surprised the brakes still did, but it was a good bike. It had been good to him and it held a lot of memories within it’s rusted, dark blue paint and white trim.

“Hey,” Zitao said, smiling softly. 

“Hey.” Baekhyun grinned and mounted his bike. “You don’t have a helmet.”

“Neither do you.”

“Helmets are boring.”

Zitao nodded in agreement. “So where are we going first?”

“Follow me.”

They rode down the street together at a leisurely pace, quiet save for the song Baekhyun was humming under his breath. As they continued on, the landscape began to change, merging into the soft blue water and white sand of the local beachIt was mostly deserted since it was a Monday afternoon, merely a shadow of the crowded hang-out it had been the day before.

Baekhyun grinned at Zitao a few times while they continued on, showing off the few tricks he knew on his old, broken-in bike. Zitao laughed in response and just continued to follow him, heading down winding roads and shortcuts and paths through the woods that were lined with more sticks and leaves than actual path.

When they came to a stop half an hour later, Baekhyun spread his arms wide in dramatic presentation and grinned. “Here we are!”

It was a hill.

A big hill. 

Baekhyun’s mother used to take him there all the time. She would spread out a blanket underneath a nearby oak tree and relax, a book in her hand as Baekhyun went up and down the hill on his old bike too many times to count. 

“What is this place?” Zitao wondered.

Shaking off old memories, Baekhyun smiled. “This is an old hill I used to visit a lot when I was a kid. My mom—she, uh ... she would take me here.” 

Zitao frowned, noticing the tightness in Baekhyun’s voice. “Is she okay?”

“She died.”

“... Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s fine.” Baekhyun smiled. “It was a long time ago. I’m not really sad about it anymore, I’m just ...”

“Wistful?” Zitao offered.

“Yeah. Wistful.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“No.” Baekhyun tightened his grip on his bike’s handles, recklessness urging him to push onward. “I want to race you down this hill.”

“You’re challenging me?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re on. But let’s make it a little more interesting.” Zitao glanced down the hill. It wasn’t really all that big, it just seemed like it when they were planning on riding their bikes down it at top speeds. “No brakes, no pedaling.”

“So we have to take our feet off the pedals?”

“Yes.”

“And we can’t use the brakes at all?”

“Nope.”

Baekhyun grinned. “Works for me. My brakes aren’t the best anyway. I’m pretty sure they’d catch fire if I tried to use them while going that fast.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Hm?”

“It’s dangerous to not have brakes that work properly.”

“It’s no big deal.” 

Zitao shook his head. “Yes, it is. And if you want, I could fix them for you. I’m good with bikes; my dad used to own a bike shop back in China.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Besides, I can’t just let you ride around without brakes.”

Baekhyun smiled. “That sounds good. But right now, we’ve got a race to complete.”

“A race I’m going to win.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Butterflies fluttered around in Baekhyun’s stomach as he and Zitao positioned themselves evenly at the top of the hill. No matter how many times he’d gone down it as a kid, there was still doubt lingering on the edge of his mind, but that only made him more determined to beat Zitao. 

“On the count of three,” Baekhyun said.

Zitao hunched over his handlebars, his feet flat on the ground. He was ridiculously tall even on the bike.

“One ... two ... three!”

They both pushed off at the same time, dipping over the edge of the hill and picking up speed as they went. Baekhyun whooped at the thrill, exhilarated as the wind rushed past him, taking his breath with it. He could vaguely see Zitao beside him—a dark blur in his peripheral vision—but he was a little focused on not flipping his bike. His feet were off the pedals, nothing but air beneath them as he went faster and faster and faster.

When they hit the bottom of the hill, the gravity had Baekhyun’s stomach dropping out beneath him. He laughed, long and loud and satisfied, and stopped his bike so he could stumble onto the grass and collapse, winded, on his back.

“I think I won,” Zitao said, just as breathless as he laid down beside Baekhyun.

“Yeah, but I was close!”

Zitao laughed. “You were. We could have a rematch if you’re not satisfied.”

“Maybe some other time. I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“Me too.”

They laid there together under the summertime sky, watching cirrus clouds flit past as the sun slowly began to descend from its afternoon perch up above. Baekhyun felt his nerves from before return when the adrenaline from the race wore off, and he became hyper aware of how close Zitao was, of how easy it would be to take his hand.

But he hesitated.

He knew he was about to let an amazing opportunity slip past him, an opportunity that might never present itself again, but still he hesitated. He thought of his mother, he thought of the word wistful and how it applied to his life, and then some strength he hadn’t known he possessed made him reach over and grab Zitao’s hand before he could rethink the action.

Zitao tensed.

Thinking he’d overstepped his bounds, Baekhyun prepared himself to pull away and apologize, only to freeze when Zitao laced their fingers together.

“Thanks for today,” he said, and Baekhyun felt his chest swell with joy as he understood.

Zitao wanted to hold his hand too.

“You’re welcome.”