Cafè Pascucci, Apgujeong-dong, Gangnam-gu, 16^th of May 2010

 

"Jongin...I don't know."

Everything was so secretive. He thought it was a usual hypocritical misunderstanding a couple should go through once or twice in between. But it had been sliding down smoothly; before he knew his back had hit the ground. He wished there were any friction to wrap his small waist and engulf his creme torso; then one would whisper 'i'm sorry, let's dance on ivory.' But wish should not always be granted.

Baekhyun did not know whether it was him or Jongin, who put the other party on victim. He had been trying to recall a slip, a loose, a mistake, a scar that might popped out off his slender fingers, intentionally or unintentionally. Probabilities flew to no end yet to nowhere at the same time. He counted briefly some broken jokes or mocking pranks that came pure out of silliness. Did Jongin finally take toll of those?  Wine locks shook at disagreement to the ridiculous thoughts. Jongin himself was a forever five-years-old reincarnation. He admitted defeat at any possible nonsense and boisterous laugh Baekhyun would shove him. First a pout, a whine, a face of fake anger; then a handful of soft fingers caressing at the back of head, a cup of flawless wrinkles of cresent eyes and a delightful laughter were the reward Baekhyun would receive from the younger male. Jongin would say 'Baek, you little . Why am I with you?' But Baekhyun was only full of cherry blossoms and sweet orange because Jongin said he liked it. He adored his hyung. He admired Byun Baekhyun.

Jongin said, they were meant to be.

There was a flow of Nocturne No 1. in B-flat Minor slipped through his ears that made him stopped lingering his fingers around white ceramic. The subtle light grey, almost ghost white or transparent, in between. The petite male was drown under flying dry ice. It was cold and warm that Baekhyun's impulses reacted abruptly to the mixed batter. His heart constricted in agony yet infatuated in almost comfortable way by the perfect pitch. But it never reached the upmost level of his content because he still was gagging at the matter. He couldn't comprehend the waves that came to the shore. Was it tranquil? Was it horrendous? Was it reeked of venom?

Baekhyun only felt tasteless at the end of the song.

"But I love him."

Love. Love. Love. He would never tired of rolling those words on his tongue. Fluffy white marshmallow and pink cotton candy engulfed his taste buds for every syllable of romance he spoke. His heart automatically connected to the golden strings under black wing of Steinway and Sons that was hard, strong, extravagant. It was a baby's pureness, a mother's kindness, a father's sacrifice that Byun Baekhyun would only present to Kim Jongin. Those creme hands had intertwined the other's tender tanned-palms with shy pink and flipped lips, accompanied by shameless eyes' glints that he failed to hide behind the cool-persona- backuphe tried to launch. At the end, he broke into blushing mess and fidgeting porcelain-doll; with almost broken poetic proprosal that the younger male finished with a 'yes' and matching red cheeks. Brown orbs and black coal crashed after that, promising million white sand, blue ocean and green palm trees with brown fibril of coconut. The freshness, a relief, a contentment; just a happy vibe that syncronized gracefully.

And Baekhyun never missed the dance on ivory. Their twin Yamaha jammed harmonically through acoustic floors and framed windows. Exchanging glances inbetween F flat and G sharp, swifts of magnificent strings, slight thud on the golden pedals; slipped through red curtains and overhead crystal lamps. They danced, danced, danced, until there were only spaces between fingers. And closer, closer, closer 'til they forgot limit; 'Till beyond hindrance. Their eyes closed and fluttered opened together; hung hooded before their eyelids. They eventually smiled; a pleasant mimic grazed their handsome composure as they decreased to ballad, swinging upon their pumps. At the edge of last bar, both whispered sweet nothings and acknowledgement. To one another, to their talents, to their knots—to everything. 

It was foreign to taste something else that was not his lover's.

"He has been avoiding you, Baek. He has treated you differently, right? You even cried for it. Why did he change, though?"

Park Chanyeol barked with emotions. He had never once met the so-called Kim Jongin who declared himself as his friend's lover—or maybe he should put the whole phrase in past tense—but he knew Baekhyun enough to tell the story. A bundle of complexion in front of him reeked of imbalance that mostly would fall off to green sea. Contaminated, damaged, crushed. Their age of friendship was still a seed—compared to the ones with Do Kyungsoo which he wished would be lost on count—but their bound was the beautiful opal. They possesed similar personalities and cracked minds. They doubled in laughter and satisfied with their stupidity. Though, their intelligence was pitless that made them a compatible eccentric. Six months ago, Chanyeol would still engross in his old guitar with tasteless notes, loss of improvisations; because Baekhyun had convinced him to make a tangible move in order to trigger the everlasting emotionless Kyungsoo always wore on.

That's how far they exchanged sheets and scratched black flags with grey pencils. To witness Chanyeol's dislike over his knitted eyebrows would be an understatement. Despite Kim Jongin only a mere name and a dilligently laminated photo of a grinning fifteen years old, Chanyeol's blunt personality prevented him on swimming deeper. The said boy had left his friend in a vegetative state; and there was no escape for the doors were locked; and it was such a sore thumb that he was willing to chop off Baekhyun's head. Chanyeol was a perfect material for friendship's loyalty for he studied his friend's perception and stood up for the best rights. 

However, the irony did not pull the chords to false only that spot. Chanyeol was yellow sun that it burnt to see his white teeth—moreover his displeasure and anger; although it was unbearable to catch his sorrow without being at least sympathy. But it was rare for he was an oblivion with thick black ashes behind orange stripes on monotonous canvas. By oblivion, there were many ways to Rome. The fact that he was also trapped in similar dimension of uncertainty from a three-years-best friend without him noticing the oblivvious...clueless. Regarding any problematic romance—where Baekhyun had not yet ransaking the core, hence he didn't comprehend any matching solution because the said boy was only a shadow at school although Chanyeol seemed to devote all his life unto—Do Kyungsoo had been voicing nothing, too. 

Park Chanyeol was just as hopeless.

"His grandfather died a year ago, Chanyeol. But he came to me immediately, the day after. He searched comfort from me. A month then passed and he no longer knows me. I thought he lost his mind for a while, so I let him. But he began shooting daggers, Yeol. At everyone, at me."

Baekhyun stared into Chanyeol's orbs with honesty. His thin lips parted and trembled ever so slightly. A blitz of showbiz from the sunlight and he hid his lower lip under his stiff teeth; demanding the emergency tears to stop although those popped already at his eyes' tail. Chanyeol's face fell; felt the unstable mentality of the shorter boy shaking crazily behind his ribcage. His anger bubbled, roaring inside his pumping veins, protesting to be unleashed. The moment a teardrop decorated Baekhyun's mild cheek, Chanyeol went furious. He was itching to bang his growing knuckles on the polished table underneath their reflections, but retreated because he wouldn't dare dropping his friend's sanity deeper to black hole.

A solitude of rusty skin and humid palm then replaced the blaring fire. The most dangerous blue ceased to thin air and Chanyeol presented a pinch of dandelion. He was not sure if it was reassuring enough for he was forever a good listener. Just a good listener. He leaned his big feature, most of time, on Kyungsoo because the petite male was more compromising. Thus, his brain went numb on darker shade of human's emotions to verbalise any advice. However, Baekhyun still counted the idea of his tall friend's sincere action and readiness of sympathy. Chanyeol casted cooling mint ice cream and warm waffle so well that partially put Baekhyun's heart at ease.

***

 

Cafè Pascucci, Apgujeong-dong, Gangnam-gu, 27^th of May 2010

 

No. It was worse.

He dipped two dust-black eyebags that shone in contrast with his creme nails. His color wane a few shades and exhaustment blended perfectly with his pale contour. His thin lips chapped, made it slightly bigger with blocks of cracked skin. Somewhere inbetween his cornea were red blood lines that followed his eyes' every move. He reminisenced a huge room with swinging navy blue curtains and eight-story-windows; under the silver fork sky; under menancing black coals and narrowed eyelids; at the edge of lips' hole found gritted teeth with evident displeasure, discomfort, anger. Those shoot boiled bullets that ended in white smoke, leaving scratches and red-marked edges. But there was a distaste in every corner of fingertips; every semi-rough push; every friction against white sheet that tainted with spit and tears. Because after everything, Kim Jongin left Byun Baekhyun sitting on a king-sized comforter with only a 'I need to meet someone.' Wind blew through his frozen appearance as the door shut closed; so close that it trapped him even tighter in fusion of complexion, confusion and frustration.

Baekhyun messed his hair for the umpteenth time.

"How are you holding up with Kyungsoo? It's frustrating. It's freaking frustrating!"

Chanyeol's eyes darted with detailed insights of that ball of crowded cat's wool. His brain rolled the same film roll that had turned obsolete as Baekhyun demanded to be compared with his own non-existent knot. Chin up, eyes wandering through yellow grizzled-ceiling, and there was a very fine picture of Do Kyungsoo that made his lips twitched in somewhat delight. 

He did not know, either. It was junior high school and honey-layered bariton voice hooked Chanyeol's long limb to pivot and took long stride along hallway. He pulled the brake in front of music studio and found a lone short boy with his childlike entity yet casual composure. The latter's eyes shone, but Chanyeol could not properly define wheter it was falling leaves blocking sunlight or the boy's true passion that played with the glitters. Either way, the lanky boy shamelessly barged into the flowing warmth and cozy acoustic. And he was drown, drown, drown, as he was seated on the nearby leather seat with many composser's notes underneath; inhaling the fresh aroma of wet soil; absorbing perfect pitch of Cafe Latte before then he opened the long black graphite lid and intonate the accompanist. They stayed in sync until the end of the song and both ended it with ease. A sigh escaped that thick-bottom lip in something new; something subtle, something about content; a relief. Chanyeol did not know the theoritical name of that emotion, but he would grin and pat Kyungsoo's black jet and uttered 'it's something that make your heart feel much much much better...easier. I don't know, Kyung-ah. But I feel really happy listening to your voice.'  

But Kyungsoo was overly calm and almost empty. He was undeniably incoherent to Chanyeol's affection—and everything. That should be a bigger complexion.

However, alongside the jumping spirit, Kyungsoo's presence seemed to only exist in Chanyeol's dictionary. Kyungsoo was the hardest code to be solved. He was the top classified file; a true secret, that even Chanyeol already used to it. From the music studio to daily basis, always a well-managed composure that Kyungsoo presented without fail. The one that caressed every shoulder with christmas hut's cotton mixed with low wind in autumn. The one that tied Chanyeol's tongue on creating jumbled words just for a definite explanation to Kyungsoo's vibe. The far vision which ran as fast beneath the trees; the charateristic contour of one and only persona that he possesed; sometimes an electric or two as their skins grazed ever so slightly—since the beginning. And once again, he did not know; because it was hard to overlay Kyungsoo's insights that, he thought, he realized it was just Kyungsoo. That's Kyungsoo. He's like that—or he's probably just shy about his feelings. Regardless, Chanyeol trusted the highly picked affection when Kyungsoo story something and clever wordplay that engulfed his whole tiny form.

"You receive nothing from him, Yeol. Nothing! You don't know whether he likes you back or not. Hell, you won't even know if he even felt something for your chocolate. You can just assume that he's shy, or loss at words, or whatever in your mind. But isn't he rolling your feelings up and down? Aren't you confused of what to do? Because I am!"

Baekhyun did not understand the minimum respond—close to unaffected. Chanyeol never once complained about the lack of expressions of his crush that should have made him gone mad. Never any dull grey or lower octave of Blue Monday ever chocked him in epiphany; in troubled contemplation; in anything bad. He was blue sky at 7, shining sunshine at 12, and sparkling ocean at 20. Park Chanyeol was so positive it's abnormal. Because although it was absurd, Kim Jongin and Do Kyungsoo were wheeling a similar colorless car which led to no direction. The beautiful tan boy had been playing jumbled notes on ivory that forced Baekhyun to run from chest-bass to falsetto. He had been attacking a throbbing head with more and more in.authentic assumptions. Park Chanyeol, of all human being in Gangnam-gu, should have known far better. 

"Yeol....what should I do?"

There were times when white clouds turned a bit grey and lower; shelter for a once-in-a-while gloomy day with some ballads courtesy of Kyungsoo. Wherein Chanyeol would stroll down the alley to deliver equipments that off-handed left his parents' grip in the morning. He would think of windowless garage with thin air and a lone dim light above. Laid on the spotlight was countless trial to aim one's heart. Clock on the wall was ticking slowly and he heard faint Hello from his father's old recorder. His story mirrored the centre paragraph in the middle of the song; he would feel slightly discourage. He admitted his loss if they spoke about give and receive. Kyungsoo stood still in front of chaos orchestra; he morphed into fierce conductur but no, not autoritive.

That he looked so fair, so well, so...perfect. Chanyeol always thought of mountainous and its valley. Naturally aromatish, naturally eye-catching, naturally beautiful. His mind squealed poetic compliments and it blinded him from everything else. He did not dare taint the picturesque with false assumptions because he believed Kyungsoo was fine. His mystery was a treasure and Chanyeol was sure there was his name in between. And it was enough. It was okay to admire from afar, to adore from afar, to love from afar. While he was so near yet so far. But it was okay. Hopes existed and so far that pale boy had not crumbled it. For all, he was actually content.

So he refused. He refused, for this, that his dear was the same.

"Baek, listen. It's out of league. You need to stop this."

Although he refused, his sense of unfairness kept beeping, disturbing his mind. In his vision, Kim Jongin was far from fine. He could define him in one of the bad group according to Baekhyun's stories. Much to his dismay, he tainted Baekhyun's cheeks with salty tears and dimmed his enjoyeable parade. Chanyeol could not stand mental disorientation and no one should damage one's soul until its very bones. Moreover, Byun Baekhyun had been nothing but angel's wings and golden harp. He did not only promise to link arms and walk aside, but he gave his all to pull back his lover from underneath the ground; electrifying the withered ivory. Kim Jongin should have devoured those endless love; not the otherwise.

Kim Jongin needed to be confronted.

"You have to talk to him."

***

 

---

Author's Note :

Sorry this chapter is short. This is just an explanation of Baekhyun and Chanyeol's friendship. Also some hint about previous confrontation *wink wink*

Listen to this while reading :

Yiruma - 27th May : https://youtu.be/gC9-bjziyp

Hope you enjoyed this! See you on the next chapter! Anyeong~

J<3

 

SONGS :

Nocturne No. 1 in B-flat minor : https://youtu.be/gxXSlhO4a5A

Caffe Latte : https://youtu.be/k5SE5Ds8d9w

Hello :  https://youtu.be/Y8_RQEKGN8o