So Could You Love Me Again

Chanyeol/Hani {exo/exid}

PG, AU, Romance/Angst, 2524w.

warning: mention of alcohol.

“Fine, if it’s my fault, you can’t just simply scream at me like I’m nothing!”

Heeyeon’s loud squelch had got Chanyeol tired, dead exhausted with all the childish fights. He gritted his teeth, holding back all the rage and pride, swallowing them hard in one shot down his throat.

It tasted nothing but just Cimmerian, and he felt like he wanted to throw up.

His breathing had gotten uneven by the second he inhaled and exhaled. The bleakness didn’t even try to deplete. Slowly, it intoxicated his entire body, his heart wrenched of agony and he’s just tired of everything.

He turned his body away, averting his eyes away from the sight of Heeyeon’s teary eyes and without even thinking twice, he grabbed his keys, coat and he left with a loud slam of the door (just like how he slammed her heart, hard) and he knew that he shouldn’t have done  it.

Shouldn’t have left her like that.

Especially when he still can hear Heeyeon’s faint cries just from the back of his shattered heart.

He downed over the last drips of vodka and he closed his eyes in a haste moment, letting the bittersweet tingled inside his sore throat and he still can’t think straight.

Never in his head thinking about anyone but Heeyeon — she’s the only one. His eyes stung, and tears had threatened to fall anytime when his mind ran back into the time they just fought. Not once but so many times, it could be more than his heart could bear any longer.

Was it his fault for not being good? Was he never that enough to her? He just didn’t know anymore. He’s tired with all the quarrels, arguing over petty matters, or were they petty to him but important to her? Maybe, he should’ve been more considerate and tolerable to her feelings.

The deafening shouts, screams of anger kept replaying inside his mind like a mad whirling tape. He could remember every saddest part of them; they’re like splitting his head in a dreadful avulsion and he wished to take back all the hurtful words that he had ever said to her. What should he do to make it stop? It’s hard to find the solution right now when his head was dizzy, too stupor to even get a way back home.

But he did manage to fumble with the keys to enter his apartment even in a tipsy state, he forgot that Heeyeon lived here too, but the last thing he could only remember was the clear nightmare of losing her in between his slipping, reckless fingers and pitch darkness.

Chanyeol didn’t remember climbing up to his bed and shrugging off the black trench coat that he’s wearing last night because he’s dead drunk that time. But his head was too heavy; it’s pounding him in every core of his nerves in the brain. Hangover could be the last thing that he would want to have right now.

His swollen eyes scanned the whole room – it’s their room and he’s pretty sure that Heeyeon carried him back to the bed by the time he collapsed. There’s no sign of her around. She must have already gone to work.

And his eyes caught the sight of the lamp table at the side of their bed. There’s a tray filled with a bowl of soup and black coffee in his favorite orange mug that are somehow getting cold, Chanyeol could tell that she prepared this before he even woke up. There was also a bottle of Tylenol tablets and a glass of plain water – not to forget there’s an empty bucket, obviously getting ready to be filled whenever he felt like throwing up. It’s making him even guiltier to see how she still took care of him even though he kept breaking her heart with all the countless fights.

His dark eyes averted to the white pristine ceiling; it was all blank just like what he’s thinking right now. Hazy mind slowly traced about little things, most of them were about Heeyeon.

Especially how she would smile in the brightest, loveliest way that will always ignite his heart like wildfire.

Heeyeon wasn’t that surprise to see that he’s still there – well, she didn’t expect for him to just leave. The loft was still theirs. Maybe, he wanted to say something so that they can decide about the matter. She didn’t want to think about it, to be at least right now.

By the time she stepped inside the house, she’s sure that she had smelt something really nice. It’s not really her fault that she didn’t eat for the whole day. She just didn’t feel like eating after what happened last night.

She froze on her track when she saw the sight of him smile apologetically at her from the kitchen stool. The island was filled with handmade dishes – he must have cooked these for her. Her mended heart cracked at the edge again as her lips tried to split into a small smile at his considerate gestures.

“Let’s eat.”

The dinner was eerily silent but it’s not that unusual to them. The unusual thing was they’re eating on the same island without making any sound of quarrel. There’s not a day for them to pointing out faults at each other. They thought it was a usual thing to happen between lovers but when it’s getting out of hands, there’s something not right. But none of them could stress about what.

Their eyes were fixated on the food, barely taking a glance at one another. He has always been a great cook, but her tongue felt numb, could hardly indulge the slightest tinge of his spicy spaghetti and she doesn’t feel like swallowing anymore. But she kept eating to at least appreciate his kindness.

“I want to say something,” her eyes took a brave step to look at him across her place. He did