Prologue
baekyeol || angst, model!au
“Love isn’t black and white, there isn’t a rule book, and it doesn’t always hit you like a train. It’s sneaky and it can kill. You suffer, but love helps you find those you’re willing to suffer for.” Luhan’s eyes were misty, clouded, and Baekhyun knew exactly who he was thinking about.
“So the closet romantic comes out, eh? You’ve gone soft, Lulu.” Baekhyun takes a drag before flicking away the embers of apathetic breathing.
Luhan grimaces at the pet name. He hates when Baekhyun calls him that, and Baekhyun knows it; using it to his full advantage.
Baekhyun continues, “he’s made you soft, that new model—what’s his name? Oh Sehun?”
Luhan snorts, “please, don’t tell me that other kid hasn’t caught your eye. ing giant blatantly gapes at you like a fish. It’d be weird if you didn’t notice.”
Baekhyun scoffs. Park Chanyeol. That tall, awkward, lanky kid that doesn’t know when to shut up. Oh he knew him, alright. The giraffe won’t stop trying to rearrange his ensemble to look like a five year old dressed him. Baekhyun can tell when someone likes him, being in the business and all. Other models would do anything to have Baekhyun fix their clothing line. He was a design genius.
Luhan befriended him through a series of catwalk drama, hissy fights, and maybe a couple of scotch downed in a night from a runway gone wrong in Milan. Either way, they somehow stuck. Luhan being one of his ‘most used models.’
But ever since that day five weeks ago, the company had stated the addition of three incoming models—Sehun, Chanyeol, and some foreign kid named Kris (Tao had claimed him his, his lips, and a predator gleam in his eye, as he led him to the make-up department)—Baekhyun found himself designing clothes made for a 182cm giant with brown locks and the expression of a lost puppy. Don’t get him wrong, when Chanyeol was on a runway, his eyes turned deadly. That glare could burn through the best boron-cotton made cashmere in all of Paris.
Luhan chuckled with Baekhyun’s response—or lack thereof. “So he has, huh?” He nodded his head, gaze skimming Tokyo’s night life. “You make a good match.”
Before Baekhyun could throw a snarky comment, Luhan his heel, back to the rooftop door. He paused, fingers curled around the handle, “don’t break him.”
Luhan’s tone was mocking, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. But Baekhyun caught the hint of seriousness—Chanyeol wouldn’t be able to handle it. He would break in the worst way possible. He would break, and there would be no one who could fix him.
Because that’s exactly how Baekhyun broke.
[A/N]: first time writing baekyeol, and it kinda feels weird.
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