It was raining on Monday, and Kris usually hated the rain.

But today, it didn't bother him because he was in a pretty good mood. Surprisingly, he'd survived the weekend without too much disturbance. He’d had to focus on not allowing himself to get swallowed up in the depths of his own mind, but he'd made it through.

Kris wasn’t quite sure how constantly thinking about Chanyeol’s smile had helped, but it had, and he was more than thankful. He’d actually been able to sleep soundly for the first time in a long time.

Once he arrived at school, Kris felt slightly nervous at the thought of seeing Chanyeol face to face. That past Friday had felt a bit strange, almost as if Chanyeol had been disappointed or even hurt by him, and Kris felt uneasy about it. He wanted to hurry up and move past that encounter so things could just go back to being semi-normal.

Kris tried but failed to hold back a smile when he walked through the door of his lecture hall and saw Chanyeol already sitting in his seat. He was smiling, too.

That was definitely a good sign.

 "Hey,” Chanyeol greeted, his eye twitching with what Kris assumed was happiness. He sat down and dropped his backpack on the floor, cautiously returning the smile.

“Hey.”

So far so good.

Chanyeol rested his elbows on the small desk and leaned to the side, peering curiously into Kris’s face. Kris shifted to the farthest edge of his seat because Chanyeol had a bad habit of invading his personal space without even noticing.

(Not that Kris minded, but he'd never admit it, especially not to himself).

“What?” Kris muttered, consciously curling his fingers around the edges of his shirtsleeve.

 “You're smiling. Are you okay?" Chanyeol asked, looking a little surprised.

 "I don't know. I guess," Kris replied and shrugged, trying to act aloof. On the inside, he felt a huge sense of relief.

 So Chanyeol hadn’t been mad. Thank god.

Chanyeol grinned and gently punched his cheek. Kris fought back the urge to wince. He didn't really like it when people touched him.

Especially people named Park Chanyeol.

"Good. I like you better when you're happy," Chanyeol said teasingly.

Kris felt his face turn red with embarrassment, and he quickly bent down to get a pencil from his backpack.

Freaking Chanyeol and his stupid face.

It was very hard to keep his emotions in check when Chanyeol was freely expressing his own (even if it was just teasing).

 And now Chanyeol's huge, warm hand was resting on his lower back as if it belonged there and that was just not okay.

 Kris cleared his throat and sat back up, expecting Chanyeol to move his hand. But no, that's not what happened.

Chanyeol's hand ran all up the way up his spine and to his neck, where he gently squeezed the sides before letting it slide down to his lower back once again.

Chanyeol didn’t move his hand after that, and Kris didn't know how to tell him to move it.

He spent the rest of the hour inwardly screaming like a girl. 

The lecture ended all too quickly, and Chanyeol reluctantly slid his hand off of Kris’s back and reached for his backpack. 

Kris tried not to karate chop the professor in half, but he did send him a glare. How dare he ruin their moment.

How dare he.

Kris’s glare disintegrated into a grin when Chanyeol slung an arm across his shoulder and pulled him closer to his side as they left the classroom.

This would've been a sweet gesture if Chanyeol hadn't pulled him so suddenly.

"Jeez, do you mind?" Kris yelped, flinging his arm around Chanyeol's waist to steady himself and prevent the both of them from crashing to the ground.

 "No, not at all," Chanyeol replied with a cheeky smirk. Kris felt his face burn red again when he made eye contact with Chanyeol, whose face was magically inches away from his.

"God, this is why I hate gays,” an angry voice said loudly.

Kris froze and shoved Chanyeol’s arm from his shoulder, turning to look at whoever had spoken.

A tall, thin boy with short black hair and spiteful eyes was frowning at them in disgust. The people walking with him stopped to stare at Kris and Chanyeol, sharing the same look of disdain on their faces.

“Get a room, you fags. You're in public, for crying out loud. Try to have some consideration for us normal people," the black-haired boy hissed.

The harsh words shot straight into Kris's heart and he felt a rush of anger rise in his chest. Without even thinking, he his heel, pulled back his fist, and sent it flying into the boy’s face. He let out a cry and crumpled to the ground, holding his hands to his nose.

Kris's stomach churned as he saw blood begin seep between the boy's fingers and pool on the ground.

"What the hell, man?" The guy shouted, trying to sit up.

By this time, a small crowd had formed around them, pressing close to see what was happening, and Kris felt like he couldn't breathe. All he could see was that  crimson liquid creeping slowly towards his sneakers.

And suddenly it was everywhere; dripping over the walls and out of people's eyes and down his own fingertips.

Kris stared in absolute terror at his blood-soaked knuckles. The sight of them triggered a flashback, and he closed his eyes and held up his arms to his face in a defensive stance.

"No, don't! Leave me alone!" he cried, but he could still feel the sensation of a blade cutting through his sleeve and into his skin. He wheezed and gasped for air, stumbling against a wall and leaning against it. The sharp sensation kept tearing into him, and tears burned his eyes.

"Stop, please! I said I was sorry!" he wailed, holding his arms tightly to his chest.

"Kris? Kris! Kris!"

Chanyeol was yelling, the black-haired boy was crying, people were shouting, and blood, so much blood.

Kris couldn't handle it anymore. His vision blurred, his throat went dry, his body went numb.

And everything went black.

*