Part VII: Partition

   1 year ago

 

      “The hell are you wearing?” Baekhyun croaks, holding his hand out like a child to feel the hem of Chanyeol's dress shirt.

 

          Baekhyun was put on morphine an hour ago.  Maybe anesthetic.

 

     Or so, that's what Chanyeol was told. Whatever it was, he was completely drugged out; sometimes his voice would rise at unusual lengths and sometimes he would roll along the bed like a hamster. His hands moved in bizarre ways.

The arm that was bounded by a cast gleamed in the foggy sunlight, Chanyeol's name loosely scribbled in black sharpie.

        

           “My dad is forcing me to go to a company dinner..” Chanyeol explains. Smoothing down his hair.

 

          He had often come to update Baekhyun about things going on around town. It felt like his duty to make Baekhyun feel like he wasn't deprived of life for four months.

     On this particular day, school ended early so Chanyeol had time to visit Baekhyun. Right before his father would take him to his associates dinner in which they would rave over golfing and politics.

   

            Baekhyun, being the snoop he was, noticed Chanyeol's extravagant get up. He was wearing a two set tux.

     It had a white underbelly and a shiny black exterior. Chanyeol's neck and a quarter of his chest  was visible and fresh against the satin material.

 

        “M’not the only one,” He objects, “People are going to be wearing much more pompous outfits.”

 

         “You look good.” Baekhyun coughs out a laugh.

          His eyes appear drowsy, but his words sound sincere.

    

         “Y-you're just on medication that's why you saying that-” Chanyeol blushes furiously.

 

         “I don’t take drugs!” Baekhyun suddenly says defensively.

 

        Chanyeol folds his arms over on another and shuts his lips tight to appear unflustered. He jumps at Baekhyun involuntary gasp.

 

          “Oh my god, you’re red!”

 

           “N-no I-I’m not-!”

 

  

          Baekhyun smiles a toothy grin. He holds out his palms as if reaching to get something. Instead he finds his delicate fingers intertwined with Chanyeol's. Who was shocked at first, but suddenly lets him do it.

          Chanyeol expression softens.

 

          “Are you jealous?” Chanyeol sneaks a comment.

 

           “No!” Baekhyun says in a frustrated tone.

 

           “Sure you are! I looked good according to you, and other people will see.”

  

            “No! No! No!” Baekhyun whines like a baby who hasn't gotten their milk.

 

         “But don't wear that around anyone, ever again.” Baekhyun pouts angrily. “I know you and your antics, you're a playboy.” He sticks out his tongue to mock him.

   Then he mutters on about how the nurses here are too pretty and will probably start filtering with Chanyeol.

           Chanyeol chuckles deeply before gently rubbing his thumb on the palm of Baekhyun's hand. He looks out the door to see if anyone is watching them.

 

          “You know…” Chanyeol starts. His eyes gazing into Baekhyun’s.

 

           “What?”

 

          “That I only have eyes for you.”

 

      ------------------------------------------

 

Present day

 

    Chanyeol could feel his body go numb. He felt incapable of standing even if he may have the strength to push the men away.

     Beads of sweat fell. One by one on the floor. It was taunting him. He himself was tied to a rope and a knot was being tightened every second.

      The house became dark. Clouds in sky churned to cover the heavy sun and Chanyeol's vision tunnelled. All he could see was Baekhyun. Standing there. Alone. Afraid.

    A gun to his heart. Chanyeol would never forget that. That even though the scene was complete hell, and the weapon was aimed at Baekhyun’s heart, it felt like Chanyeol’s heart instead.

       “Baekhyun…” Chanyeol whispered one last time before the trigger was pulled.

 

             ---------------------------------

 

    He woke up with sore wrists.

 

     Sometimes consciousness was a gift and he would hear frantic voices, other times a soft pleading voice that he recognized.

    Chanyeol had not been shot.

   And in fact he felt okay at the time.

     Expect, he just couldn't bear to be awake more than five minutes. So, he reserved his energy and began to listen in on conversations within what smelled like a hospital.

He knew exactly what a hospital smelled like and what he associated it with was none other than Baekhyun.

 

      “....arrested…” they mumble on and on.

 

      “I heard...that boy…”

    

      Chanyeol would feel the pinch of a needle and he would  fall  back into the darkness.

 

     When his eyes flutter open the next time, he’s more refreshed. Though as soon as he lets himself recognize the world around him he feels the aching pain of his body.

      It feels twisted. Burnt. Yet, Chanyeol can't remember all that well of what had happened.

 

     “Water…” he croaks.

  

     The sound of rushing footsteps reach over to pour in a glass of water.

 

     “Here.” Says a voice.

 

      Chanyeol recognizes almost instantly. A voice he hasn't heard too long ago, coaxing him that he would be alright.

 

       “Junmyeon…” Chanyeol says, then lifts himself up to sip the water.

 

        “Chanyeol, listen I got your call. I’m sorry-” Junmyeon rushes to explain himself.

 

 

        “Where is…” he asks, then continues with as much strength as he can muster. “Baekhyun.”

 

 

        “That boy, right…” Junmyeon takes in a short breath. “I talked to your father. Told him everything you left in that text message. He’s...he’s going to discuss with the board. He’ll be on trial-”

 

        “No, Junmyeon. I mean...where is he? How long have I been out?”

 

 

        “He is well, the last I heard from him, the council was trying to grant him immigration.”

 

     A sudden wave of relief washed over Chanyeol. Then, he remembers he only knows Baekhyun is near him and yet that's all that matters. And yet he could specifically remember the sound of a bullet, the rupturing of skin.

Blood.

He remembers blood.

 

    It doesn't occur to him that his condition may not be all that good.

 

      “When did you guys...get here?”

 

      Junmyeon looks at the ground before answering. “After I got your calls, I informed your father. We tracked your cell and made it just in time to that house.”

 

      “Kim Jongin…” Chanyeol grits his teeth.

 

      “There's going to be a hearing. We’ll sort this out. For now, you should rest.” Junmyeon coaxes, his eyes looking more worried than ever.

    

     This wasn't like the scolding, ill-tempered Junmyeon who would smack Chanyeol across the head when he failed to understand something.

     If possible, he looked older. He looked tired. Like he hasn't gotten any sleep.

 

       “I want to see him.” Chanyeol asks instead.

 

       His hands reach out the hold something for support but nothing is there. The room looks dim and dark all at the same time. Chanyeol can barely think straight.

At the same time, he knew it was dangerous to see Baekhyun at anytime, especially in the hospital.

 

     “The doctor says you need rest.” Junmyeon advises.

 

    At that, Chanyeol painfully rests back down. There's no way he could even walk from one place to another.

 

      “What happened? Why am I...so sore?” He whines.

 

     It makes Junmyeon smile because it reminded him of the student he knew, Chanyeol.

   

      “You fought till the end.” Is all Junmyeon said, sighing as he spoke.

 

     Those words put Chanyeol into a deep sleep.

 

   ------------------------------------------

 

The light in the room could not have been anymore blinding.

A nurse had come in a few moments ago to give him a shot and later he had passed out from exhaustion.

How long would he have to keep this up? To sleep around waiting for his recovery? Would Baekhyun come to him? Would he have to go after him? He wanted updates. He needed them.

Maybe god listened because the door to his room clicked open. He craned his neck to see who had stepped in but couldn’t keep it up much longer when it began to hurt. He heard several footsteps, high-heels? Slacks?

It had become a guessing game.

 

“Oh, my Chanyeolie!” His mother gushed.

She ran over to her son and smothered him with kisses.

 

Chanyeol winced when he felt the weight of his mother drop down on him.

 

“M-mom? Dad?”

 

“What are you doing here?” asks Chanyeol.

 

As they approached, he noticed their solemn looking clothes. The kinds of clothes he recognized. Ones they would wear when grandpa passed away, or when their cousin died in an accident.

His mother was wearing no more than a simple laced-back dress. His father looking gruff and stressed. They both looked at him warily, like they expected a strong reaction.

 

“We’re here to take you to the funeral.” answers his father.

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

All the way throughout the car ride he felt anxious. His feet tapped continuously on the foot of the black car and his stomach began to ache. He had yet to be told whose funeral he was attending.

Maybe it was the side effects of the drip they gave him over the span of a week or maybe it was malnutrition that made him feel sick to his stomach. He had so much hope just hours ago… and now it felt like the end of the world.

Finally, the car stops with a jolt.

They get out and make their way into a small cemetery that’s close to a shelter.

 

Chanyeol can’t make out much of anything. While holding one crutch he looks around in distress. His mother watches him and eventually grips his arm to move him away from the gated entrance

It isn’t a normal funeral. No, it’s much like the opposite. Only a few people attend. Some burly guys dressed in some kind of uniform, Chanyeol and his parents and that was it.

The grave had already been dug, someone was couched near the foot of the tomb stone. Just how long had Chanyeol been admitted in the hospital? What on earth was happening?

His vision narrowed but he couldn’t see the person because rain had started to pour down.

Chanyeol let go of his mother's arm and began to walk forward, to the figure that was hunched over.  It only took him a few moments to understand who it was.

 

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol breathes.

 

The boy doesn’t look up. Doesn’t budge. He can only stare at his mother’s grave.

 

“I’m sorry.”  Is all Chanyeol can really say, he’s a failure.

 

Even if Baekhyun is alive, even if he’s here it won’t help the fact that his mother had taken the bullet.

 

Why couldn’t it have been me. He thinks, wanting to weep at the way Baekhyun looked at the dirt beneath him, the rain that had suddenly begun to fall.

It felt like the end. The end of everything they had started. And how so easily it had ended.

He remembers. The promise he made the fragile woman.

I will protect him and everything he loves even if it means I have to die.

And now, his efforts had seemed worthless. He wasn't the hero, he couldn't protect Baekhyun even if he tried.

 

He curls his fists in anger, fury maybe a little sadness, couldn't bare to understand how Baekhyun felt right now. It would never occur to him how much pain Baekhyun felt and how much he would have to overcome.

 

“Not you.” Baekhyun says quiety.

 

“What?” He wipes off the strange tears that fall from his eyes.

 

“No, I didn’t want it to be you either.” Baekhyun almost whispers.

 

“Baekhyun don’t-”Chanyeol looks away.

 

“It should have been me, Chanyeol. I should have died.”

 

-------------------------------------

 

They family bids their farewells. Chanyeol looking at Baekhyun from afar, his mother leading him into a Black SUV.

 

“The trial ends today, it will decide whether the boy will go back.” His father had explained as calmly as possible.

They couldn’t stay for long, even though Chanyeol had insisted otherwise,

 

The journey from the cemetery to the car had not been a pleasant one. Chanyeol was insistent on staying longer, saying he needed to stay with Baekhyun, but he knew all the temporary medication he was given wouldn't last him even an hour.

 

 “Dad…” Chanyeol finally says. “Please help him.” He began to choke up on his words. “I'll do anything, take over your position when you grow old, work alongside you whatever you want! Just please…help Baekhyun.”

 

His parents look at each other then at Chanyeol warily.

 

“There's only so much I can do.” His father grunts, looking out the window.

 

“Chanyeol, honey, we know...that you feel certain ways for...this boy after what happened last year and the incident, but...you're father's right.” His mother urges him, flattening his hair down so that there are no fly-aways.

 

“No! You don't understand. I’m not asking because I feel in debt, I'm asking...because…” Chanyeol stops himself, then fiddled with the hem of shirt.

 

His parents wait. They watch him intently, waiting for an answer.

But Chanyeol couldn't bring himself to do it. More or less, if he did tell them he loved Baekhyun their reaction would be far from bad. It was the one thing that made Chanyeol believe he just wasn't cut out for love.

Maybe this was how his life was meant to be. Maybe this was fate. For him and Baekhyun to part ways. For the death of his mother and father, his sorrow bleeding into Chanyeol but would eventually be lost.

It was this burning doubt that he wasn't enough. He was unworthy of anything in life. He was a failure. A failure to his family, to Baekhyun.

And he had the faintest idea, that this was the last time he would see that boy.

The last time he would feel his presence or bask in his hold. The last time he could kiss Baekhyun's lips and this time with more love than ever. The last time he could watch Baekhyun grow old along side him.

---------------------------------

 

Waiting in the cold rain over the grave wasn't how he wanted to spend the rest of the demeaning day.

His arms felt lifeless and cold as he sat on a bench near the tombstone and looked out into the horizon, the social workers discussing something in front of him

.

Baekhyun felt like he was drained from all his energy and all he wanted to do was lie down somewhere and think about nothing.

He could hear faint whispers of his name, a man and then a younger woman. They talked for what seemed like hours until one, who had never seen before approached him.

 

She had just recently exited out her own car and came out with a handful of papers and files. Her smile radiated brightly as she advanced in Baekhyun direction.

 

The stranger's purse was large, black and shiny but it didn't look too expensive. She seemed young, but Baekhyun couldn't quite catch her face.

The rain covered his eyes lashes so that he wondered what this woman was coming to him for.

She began to walk quickly and in a flash of light, her visage changed to reveal a crinkled smile Baekhyun recognized.

 

The kind of smile Baekhyun owned himself.

 

“Mom…” he whispered lightly.

 

The image vanished all of a sudden.

It was the face of a stranger again. Someone he couldn't recognize but felt weirdly drawn to.

She looked young, maybe a couple years older than Baekhyun, her chin high and thin figure gleamed  with amiability.

 

A collective gasp escapes as she stares Baekhyun in the eye.

“I didn't think it would really be you.” She comments.

 

The woman waves at the social workers before ushering Baekhyun out of the cemetery into the small children's shelter located just across the street.

It isn't like Baekhyun want to go but somehow he feel obligated especially since the social workers that had recently taken him into custody do not say anything.

Only moments later had he realized he was following a complete stranger.

 

“Who are you?” He asked.

 

“Oh. Well, I didn't expect you to remember, but you can call me Eun.”

 

“Eun.” Baekhyun repeats.

 

Looking up into the sky he notices the parting clouds, the shining sun, the chilling breeze. It smelled like spring. It didn’t feel like it though.

 

He stares intently at the girl, wondering when she will stop walking and when she finally does Baekhyun realizes there are a lot of children around them. They take a seat on a picnic table and the woman fetches out an assortment of jello.

She hands them to the kids who gather around her in wonderment, placing a spoon in their other hand lovingly.

 

“I'm here from Bucheon coming to you with great news. Your trial was passed and the decision has been made for you to stay in in South Korea. You won't be deported back.” She smiles, waiting for Baekhyun's expression to change.

She probably waits for some kind of hopeful visage but Baekhyun continues to frown. He wanted so badly to ask why she was telling him this useless news just after he had lost someone he loved. Why would it even matter if he stayed behind if there was no one to stay with?

And then, the image of Chanyeol flashed through his mind. The presence of the taller lingering just moments ago, until he was forced to leave. It was like imagining a breath of fresh air right after feeling the suffocation of your blanket in bed.

Chanyeol, he thought, where would he be right now?

Of course, there was one person he would stay for.

 

After a long pause, the girl giggles. “Anyways, I’m here to take you to the new establishment in Bucheon. It caters to people like us. You’ll meet tons of North Koreans like yourself. It’s almost like an orphanage...but not really. The court had decided that if you were to remain in South Korea you would need a guardian. I offered them this option and they accepted.”

 

“People like us? You mean you’re…”

 

The girl smiles sadly. “I'm North Korean too. I also live in the orphanage. Made it myself. It took so many bills to pass the idea through.”

Suddenly the girl  becomes distracted with the jello and offers some to Baekhyun.

 

“I can't go to this orphanage. I want to live here.”

 

He takes the jello hesitantly placing back on the picnic table, uninterested.

The girl watches him reject the offering, frowning.

 

“Hmm…” she thinks, reaching into her bag again.

Then produced what looked to be a zip lock bag that held a piece of baker's bread. It looked freshly bought. It made Baekhyun's stomach growl for once in his life.

She hands the bread to him, and suddenly Baekhyun feels deja vu.

 

“I just thought I’d return what was yours.” She smiles.

 

Baekhyun blinks. He looks up at the smiling woman in confusion.

 

“Do I...know you?” He stares at the peice of bread wanting to remember a memory hidden at the back of his head.

 

“You see Baekhyun, you taught me something. That no matter what happens, it’s always easier to sacrifice yourself for others. It’s always easier living with the pain then feeling the pain.” She smiles again, looking up at the clear blue sky.

The rain had stopped.

 

Baekhyun looked at her knowingly, almost smiling himself.

 

“You’re that girl. The one from back then.” He remembers it all.

The time the fragile girl who had looked no older than him. The who had asked Baekhyun for his only piece of bread. She had fear crawling out her eyes, she looked terrible. Now, all of it had changed.

She looked healthy. Looked ready to fight the world even though she probably escaped much later than Baekhyun.

Mature, her aura it leaked with maturity.

 

“I was much older than you thought at the time.” She notes. “In fact, I’m about five years older.”

 

Suddenly Baekhyun felt at peace knowing someone from there was alive. That they were safe. He thought of his parents who had sacrificed everything for him, they gone to such great lengths and even now he wasn't taking the chance to do something he had never done, protect himself.

Live for himself rather than others.

 

“This place...in Bucheon I mean. How far is it?” He asks, playing with the bread but then eventually opening the ziplock bag and taking a bite.

He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

 

“Rather far. I mean, that and you will not be able to visit Seoul until you reach of age.”

 

“Two years?”

 

He thought about it. Living his life alone. Without any family, without...Chanyeol.

Chanyeol who he hadn't even had a proper conversation with last time they met.

Chanyeol the man he had begun to start to love again. Whom he had always loved.

How would he bring himself to leave? If Chanyeol wouldn't even allow it himself?

 

“I’m afraid so.” She smiles sadly, noticing the twinkle in Baekhyun's eyes.

 

Baekhyun began to cry.

It was the kind that was full of hope and yet remorse. Why had he come to lose everything up until this point? Why was the world so cruel to him?

 

The girl reaches into her purse and takes out a wad of tissues.

 

That's how the conversation ended and the decision was final.

 

--------------------------------

 

Staring at the ceiling of the hospital room had never been more interesting. That's what Chanyeol tells himself every time he catches a glimpse of Baekhyun in between the crevices of the patchy wall.

Time had been passing slower than he expected the sun has just started to set. A few minutes ago his parents had said their goodbyes and Baekhyun was still not here.

He wasn't expecting a visit but somehow hope was the last thing keeping him alive.

Now that he could sit up and walk around freely the doctors explained everything to him.

They said he had suffered injuries revolving around his muscle tissues that suddenly began to tear. They said it was a result of shock or stiffness and that it usually happened when someone goes under paralysis and tries to move. Chanyeol had only understood half of it.

All he knew was that he had been struggling in one of those guard’s hold at the time. When Jongin had raised the gun to Baekhyun he may have undergone so much shock he wasn't able to move from then on.

 

But if I had been able to move...

He thinks.

 

No, that isn't what Baekhyun had wanted and maybe his mother too. This wasn't about who was to take a sacrifice it was honouring Mrs. Byun’s sacrifice. And Chanyeol did, otherwise Baekhyun would not have been here.

Baekhyun was alive. He smiles to himself, hoping it will mask his worry of how the boy was doing.

 

“Chanyeol.”

 

Maybe he had undergone paralysis again because he didn't expect Baekhyun to be standing at the door, an eager woman scurrying behind him.

 

“B-Baekhyun-” he tries to get up too fast but winces in pain.

 

Baekhyun runs up to make him lie back down. His hands still so fragile and gentle.

Most of all, Baekhyun looked so beautiful in the setting sunlight, his small eyes worriedly scanning Chanyeol's hurt body.

 

“Well, i’ve got an important call, so I’ll be back!” The woman cheers happily.

 

“Thank you.” Baekhyun smiles.

 

Then, he turns back towards Chanyeol, eyes suddenly astray. His hands shaking and lip quivering.

 

“Who was that woman?” Chanyeol asks, suddenly wanting to hold Baekhyun's hand.

 

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun ignores the question. “Here.” And somehow...he smiles brightly.

 

Some form of sound leaves Chanyeol's mouth but it comes out as a quiet sharp breath. He feels unable to move in that moment, a sudden wave of sadness overcome him.

Why, why did it sound like Baekhyun was about the tell him something bad? No that’s exactly what he was going to do. Then Baekhyun reaches into a bag Chanyeol had not seen and takes out a familiar blue sketchbook. He opens it to the last page and presents it to Chanyeol hesitantly.

Chanyeol cranes his neck to see the pencil sketch that fills the page. It’s corners are torn, folded, messy. It looks like it been handled with care, still.

 

The image, it’s a drawing of Chanyeol. There is no expression on his face that he particularly recognizes but he instantly understands that Baekhyun has drawn this.

 

“For how long..?” Chanyeol begins to ask.

 

“I don’t remember when it started.” Baekhyun flips to the next page, revealing a similar portrait, shoulders sporting a new outfit. “All I know is that I’ve been drawing you face from memory the day I met you.”

 

“They’re...beautiful.” He hesitates, waits for Baekhyun to roll out whatever he’s going to say next. To spill the beans. “The drawings...I mean.”

 

There is a moment of silence. Neither one looks at each other in the eye.

 

“Baekhyun, your trial, how-”

 

“I want you to keep the sketchbook.” Baekhyun says all of sudden.

 

“What? But they’re yours.”

 

“To...remember.” He whispers gently. “To remember me, while I’m gone.” He smiles, eyes crinkling like they used to. The most beautiful smile Chanyeol has ever seen.

 

“G-gone? D-don’t tell me…” Chanyeol’s eyes widen.

 

“I’m not going back there. But...I’m not staying here for very long.”

 

“Where?”

 

“I’ve decided. On my own Chanyeol. I’ve realized  I need to leave this place.”

 

“Will you come back?” Chanyeol attempts to understand the situation he’s in. Baekhyun is so alluring, real, standing in front of him. He can’t even formulate words.

 

“I don’t know.” He smiles, then reaches into his bag again the take out another sketchbook, the one Chanyeol had recently given him. “I want you to have this. Draw portraits of me. Remember me Chanyeol. Don’t forget me. Don’t forget us.

There is silence again. Now, they look into each other’s eyes. Chanyeol swallows his cry. There is purpose of crying when Baekhyun has spent his last moments with Chanyeol.

“I can’t draw.” Chanyeol plays along with Baekhyun attempt to veer away from the reality.

 

It would be a long time before they would see each other again. If they ever did.

 

“The best way to learn…” Baekhyun lifts Chanyeol's good hand onto his cheek. He gently brushing the callouses against his skin.

 

Chanyeol willingly rubs his thumb on Baekhyun’s brow, feeling his soft visage. He smiles into the loving touches.

Then, Chanyeol pulls Baekhyun chin towards him and joins their lips into a painstakingly, forlorn kiss.

Baekhyun lets Chanyeol his fingers through his hair, feel down his nape.

Chanyeol is tired, he’s sore and yet, he finds the energy to continue this benevolent kiss. It isn’t like before, rushed, desperate.

 

It’s a goodbye.

 

It’s an I love you.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

Authors note:

There is one more chapter soon!!! Don’t worry.!!! Loool. Once again sorry about spelling/grammar errors.