“Chanyeol, what the are you doing?”

“Shut up, Sehun.”

“Chanyeol, you’re being creepy as hell.”

“ShhhHHHH! I’m trying to focus,” he blindly swats his hand at the other, keeping his gaze fixed.

Sehun leans back just enough to deftly avoid the attacking appendage. “... You’re a real sometimes, I swear to go— HEY!”

“I said be quiet, you! Show your hyung respect.” The words come out lacking the sort of conviction they typically render, having sounded more distracted than anything.

“Some hyung you are…” Sehun hisses under his breath as he rubs his head, the spot which had been hit with a bagged sandwich: an assault he couldn’t manage to avoid from his oh so gracious hyung. “You do realize that you’ve been staring for probably ten minutes now, right? And he’s only, what, maybe fifty feet away? He’s going to catch you— if he hasn’t already.”

Chanyeol whips around to face his friend, an apple now raised in hand along with a challenging eyebrow. “This is going to get shoved in your mouth next, Hun.”

“You’re impossible.” Sehun rolls his eyes and finally resigns from the pointless battle, placing his elbows on the table and raising his phone, probably to filter around Instagram or play a game, as per usual.

Chanyeol grins victoriously and reaches out to ruffle the younger’s hair; he earns an off-handed insult and low grumbling in response.

“What is your fascination with that guy anyway?”

Chanyeol groans loudly and then turns to face Jongdae, the other boy sitting opposite of him at the small lunch table. “You guys just won’t amuse me today will you?”

“Nope~” Sehun pipes up, popping the “p.”

Chanyeol launches the apple at his face, and Jongdae snickers with an entertained smirk as Sehun shouts again.

“You know why,” Chanyeol mutters quietly and brings eyes down, slight embarrassment already starting to build in his stomach as he anticipates the usual, ridiculing response.

Jongdae sighs and gives the other a pointed look. “Chanyeol— we’ve been over this. People’s eyes do not change color.”

The other boy’s gaze shoots up then, words more desperate than defensive. “But I’m telling you, his do!... Well, maybe. I’m about ninety percent sure… or more like sixty, but that’s besides the point!”

“I think you’re losing your mind.”

Chanyeol huffs with indignance and lowers his head once more, a touch of anxiety inducing his feet to lightly tap the ground. “Maybe I just also like his eyes… They’re really nice.”

“Careful, Chanyeol— your gay is showing.”

Chanyeol turns back to glare at Sehun, who is still engrossed in the virtual landscape of his phone, as he speaks in a voice heavily laced with spite. “Sehun.”

“Yes, hyung~?” The words are drenched in honey, holding the most patronizing tone.

“I’m going to take your phone and shove it so far up your as—”

“Huh. I didn’t know you were into like that,” Jongdae hums with a complacent simper.

Sehun bursts into in a fit a of laughter as Chanyeol consequently buries his face in his hands, a defeated feeling now thrumming at the back of his head. “I hate both of you,” he lets out a prolonged sigh.

This outcome is not unusual; if anything, it has become routine. Sehun never takes what he says seriously, always coming back with a belittling, patronizing response, or laughing at what is spoken of the subject, or vexing that staring at people is his greatest talent. Jongdae, surprisingly, showed a little interest for once, considering he typically dismisses anything Chanyeol tries to bring up about this, or shuts him down entirely by aptly changing the topic. But then again, this time too, he did end up moving away from the matter in the end.

A new voice dances through the air then, emanating from right behind Chanyeol, “So, you like what you see?”

Chanyeol’s head flies out of his palms, in tandem with the bought of rigidness taking over his body; he sees Sehun with a hand over his mouth as he tries to muffle an obvious laugh, and Jongdae is smirking again, and it’s sickeningly pleased. Who is it that would cause them to react like this? Chanyeol somehow manages to conjure enough courage to twist around and face the owner of the voice.

.

“H-Huh?” Chanyeol stammers, entirely caught off-guard and completely unprepared for the interaction unraveling before him.

“You were staring at me for awhile there. Unless I’m mistaken— which we both know I’m not.”

“I…” “I just was um..." Chanyeol can feel the panic ravaging his stomach and constricting his throat and burning holes in his tongue. He can only imagine how struck he looks with his fumbling words and eyes nearly bulging from the sockets.

Sehun chimes in before Chanyeol can weave back together his fraying wits, "He was checking you out." Jongdae's boisterous laugh encompasses the air about Chanyeol, and binds him in foretelling chains.

It takes every last ounce of self-control in Chanyeol not to turn around and throttle the piece of called Oh Sehun.

That was not what he was doing. Or at least, it wasn't entirely all that he was doing. Chanyeol senses the condemning rush of blood prick at his cheeks, and he knows that his face must be a blinding shade of pink.

"Oh, were you really?" The boy, petite and lithe in physique, with hair a lighter shade of brunette that falls just past his eyebrows, blatantly smirks at Chanyeol. "You know, if you wanted to get a better look or ask me out, you just had to come up and ask."

"You are probably the most shameless person I know, Baekhyun," Jongdae says in an almost chastising manner, but the smile hinting at the curled corners of his lips gives him away.

Baekhyun grins widely at the other, and Chanyeol can't help but notice the way his smile endearingly shapes into a rectangle. "Well, yeah, of course. But that's nothing new."

Jongdae begins to open his mouth when realization finally pummels into Chanyeol, and the erratic words go flying off his tongue before the other has the chance to speak. "Wait— you two know each other!?" He throws his attention over to Jongdae, somewhat relieved to not be facing Baekhyun, with an incredulous expression overtaking his features.

Baekhyun goes to look quizzically at Jongdae as well. "You never told him we’re friends?"

The latter shrugs, raising his arms to stretch them above his head, in what could only be a brazen display of nonchalance at the matter. "It never really came up, so I didn't feel the need to mention it."

"Didn't come up?? I've— we've— been talking about him for a month now! Because I've been trying to figure out the eye thing! And you think that doesn't counts as 'coming u'—" Chanyeol freezes, just now taking in what was inadvertently spewed from his mouth. Maybe Baekhyun didn't catch it, he futilely hopes, but the smug grin adorning Jongdae's face tells him completely otherwise.

"Well, you never asked if I knew him, now did you, Chanyeol? You just always assumed I didn't." Jongdae's voice is laden with an entertained, sing-song tone, and Chanyeol would love nothing more than hide under his bed for the rest of his senior year of high school.

"You're really doing a great job of digging that hole for yourself today, hyung," Sehun says, voice dripping in mock praise.

My death is imminent.

Chanyeol swallows what minuscule scraps of pride he has left, and then turns back around once more to look at Baekhyun. "I can, um, explain all of this," the words stumble out at an impossibly rushed, desperate pace. His eyes are pleading, hopeful, and slightly terrified; he doesn't want Baekhyun to think he's some kind of stalker or that he has an obsession (although some may call his fascination with the boy’s eyes this). Most of all, he just doesn't want to lose this chance. Because even though Chanyeol feels utterly and unfathomably mortified, he wants to get to know Baekhyun, find out who this guy he's been watching actually is, be his friend— and, with time, possibly even more than that.

... And maybe he’ll finally figure out what color his eyes are exactly.

To Chanyeol's surprise (and relief), the boy standing before him doesn't look disgusted or angry or upset as he had imagined, but instead he looks amused.

Chanyeol can't decide if the first outcome would have been better.

"You— Jongdae said your name is Chanyeol?— don't have to explain right now, I don't mind— truly. But we should talk more so you can tell me later why it is you're so hung-up on me, yeah?"

Chanyeol stares dumbfounded at the other, not really comprehending how he just got off so easily when he said something as condemning as he did; but excitement soon starts to race through his chest, and when he nods, it is maybe just a little too enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’s my name, and it would be really awesome if we talk more.”

And maybe he sounds just a little too eager, but Baekhyun finds it nothing but winsome. “Great,” he beams another rectangle at Chanyeol. “Jongdae has my number, so make sure you get it from him, and text me whenever. I’ll see you around?”

Again, Chanyeol nods and gives the boy a wide, ecstatic grin. “Definitely.”

“Good. See you later then, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun smiles one more time, and then leaves to rejoin his other group of friends at one of the nearby tables.

“See you, Baekhyun.”

As soon as he sees Baekhyun is settled, Chanyeol turns and launches himself at Jongdae; the latter nearly screeches at the sudden barrage, and Chanyeol all but wrestles for the phone in the other’s hands before finally claiming it from his grip. Jongdae huffs loudly as Chanyeol pulls away, grumbling something about his friend being synonymous with feral children. Chanyeol buries his nose in the phone, unlocks it with the code he pried out of Jongdae long ago, and scrolls through the contact list until he sees it: Byun Baekhyun.

Chanyeol pulls out his own phone, enters the information into his list, and then gives Jongdae back his device— but not before whacking him in the arm. “I’m going to get you back later for this, you ,” he turns to Sehun, “And you too!” also hitting him as well.

They both feign injury at his attacks, being melodramatic and completely ridiculous as always; they are already starting to about this whole ordeal, jeering that he knows will be relentless for days so he never forgets his own chagrin. But he doesn’t really care about that at this moment. 

Chanyeol stares at the new contact in his phone, and a smile stretches wide across his face. He remembers how effortless his own name sounded as that boy spoke, and how sweet Baekhyun’s name tasted spilling off his lips.

Finally.

 

 

 

It takes several hours of hopeful anticipation and stewing apprehension and waves of restless energy wreaking his body before Chanyeol realizes, with great dismay, that he has to text Baekhyun first. He didn’t ask for Chanyeol’s number, only told him to get it from Jongdae. And now as the indignance seeps into his stomach, Chanyeol chastises himself for being so caught up in his stupor that he neglected to give the other his phone number. Maybe the other boy was testing him, is a thought which flitters through his mind; possibly, he wanted to see if Chanyeol actually had the balls to contact him. Or maybe he is just over-thinking this again for the millionth time since the interaction today.

And so when the boy gets home, he goes straight to his room, collapses face-first on the bed, fishes the phone out of his pocket, and stares at the screen displaying the daunting sight of Baekhyun’s name. He agonizes over what to send, not knowing if the message should be short or long, casual or formal, cute or flirtatious; the possibilities are endless, meaning wrong choices are endless, and this set the anxiety trapezing about in his mind on a completely invigorated rampage.

The process is maddening and tedious to a nearly unbearable extent; typing out a message meticulously thought through, reading it over and over and over and over to decide if it’s worthy enough, but then ending up cutting the whole thing. And then it repeats. Chanyeol stays assiduously consumed in this cycle for a half hour before wanting to scream and tear the hair from his skull out of pure exasperation. He finally hits the point of “ it,” and after all those long drafts being crafted, and the desperate wanting for the perfect message, all he sends is:

[Chanyeol]
hi 

It takes another moment for Chanyeol to realize, again, that Baekhyun does not have his number and won’t know who the hell is texting him.

Another message is sent as a flash of panic strikes through the frantic, wide-eyed boy. Chanyeol wants to hit himself, honestly.

[Chanyeol]
it’s chanyeol

He is surprised, however, when he hears the familiar alert tone summon his attention not even a minute later. Chanyeol scrambles off the bed in the impossibly clumsy fashion only he can manage, and flies toward the phone he had moments ago spitefully thrown across the room; he unlocks it with record speed and curiosity pulsing through veins.

[Baekhyun]
chanyeol! you finally texted

The boy pulls the screen up to almost touch his nose, needing to make sure he read it correctly— read that one specific word right. Finally. Chanyeol couldn’t help but think— hope, rather— that maybe he had been anticipating his message?

[Chanyeol]
haha yeah i forgot you didn’t have my number

Again, the response is instant. 

[Baekhyun]
oh you were waiting for me?

Chanyeol just stares at the phone as the colorful slew of curses flood his thoughts, the realization his eagerness was given away hitting him. How Baekhyun was able to pick this up so easily from that simple text, he has no idea. The boy almost jumps when the notification pierces the air again, having been lost in his torrent of anguish.

[Baekhyun]
are you one of those people that always waits to be texted first?

Chanyeol shift around restlessly because, no, he isn’t one of those people. He is a very social, amiable being and always initiates conversation— especially with his two closest friends. If he hasn’t heard from either Sehun or Jongdae by the time his second class starts, he invariably sends at least one of the two a message. He'll talk to anyone that will listen, partake in any conversation within radius. Chanyeol has to satisfy his inherent neediness.

But he can’t tell Baekhyun this… At least not yet.

Chanyeol settles to respond with ^-^’.

[Baekhyun]
cute

The fluttering of Chanyeol’s hopeful heart is not helping him get back to thinking clearly. And Chanyeol isn’t particularly good at flirting, but he does take this little opportunity given to him; although, it felt more like he was taking the bait.

[Chanyeol]
oh um thanks you’re cute too

[Baekhyun]
thank you chanyeolie~

Yeah. It was bait.

[Baekhyun]
why don’t you sit with my friends and i tomorrow. invite jongdae and sehun too

Chanyeol’s grip slightly tightens on his phone in disbelief, but also a sense of victory.

[Chanyeol]
okay that sounds good. we’ll see you tomorrow :)

[Baekhyun]
see you then ;)

The boy crawls back onto his bed with the grace(lessness) of a sloth, feeling completely drained of energy after having too many emotions slaughter his being at once. But at least that initial conversation is over with, and things should be easier— hopefully. Being invited to sit next to Baekhyun was not an outcome Chanyeol expected; he thought, at most, all he would receive was an open-ended “let’s talk more,” or “see you around.” The latter is excited, to say the least.

A smile grows on his face thinking about what is to come, about where things will go after tomorrow, about what the implications of this first lunch together could mean… Chanyeol throws a pillow over his head and tries to desperately fight back the blush now claiming every speck of his face.

that wink emoji.

 

 

 

“So you’re the one that’s been staring at Baekhyun?”

Chanyeol had been nervous beforehand, with the anxiety prickling through his body since the moment his alarm clock jarred him from sleep. Each class dragged on in the most painstaking way, and Chanyeol couldn’t keep his eyes off the clock; each consecutive tick taunted him about the upcoming lunch period, laughed at his anguish, whispered he would be made a fool again.

Jongdae and Sehun hadn’t made things better. They incessantly threw jokes, mostly at his expense, over their group chat on KakaoTalk throughout the first half of the day. Chanyeol can’t really fathom how those two are able to send texts so frequently during classes; his teachers were cellphone persecutors.

When the lunch bell had finally rung, Chanyeol nearly jumped out of his chair, partly due to startelement from the shrill noise, but also because of renewed apprehension striking through him. It earned the boy numerous eye rolls and quizzical looks, and he concedingly returned the expressions with a sheepish grin. He turned around after, packing his belongings in haste, wanting to escape the now suffocating room as fast as humanly possible.

Sehun and Jongdae caught him in the hallway and, of course, had to point out the clearly panicked expression overtaking his face. But he was surprised after the teases were put aside, when words of consolation and encouragement floated through his ears; his friends knew Chanyeol was losing his wits about this lunch.

The boy did manage to recompose himself before entering the rowdy, chaotic scene of the high school cafeteria, actually having strided over to the unfamiliar table and sitting down next Baekhyun with a sense of confidence.

But now, not even being settled for ten seconds, Chanyeol is already feeling that stupid rush of heat in his cheeks projecting his embarrassment to the world.

Before Chanyeol can get any words out, another young man at the table reaches across his friend sitting next to him to whack the boy who spoke in the arm. Chanyeol catches that boy in the middle of the exchange rolling his eyes, as if this kind of thing were common among them.

“Jongin! Don’t embarrass him! Where are your manners, huh?” The recipient of the chastisement, Jongin, immediately lowers his head, muttering an apology, and looking more like a kicked puppy than anything else.

The one who reprimanded Jongin turns to look at Chanyeol. He has the kind of face most wouldn’t notice at first; some people may write it off as plain, even. But once you took a moment and really looked at this guy, you’d realize he is truly handsome. Chanyeol watches him brush silver hair from kind gaze, sees his lips form an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that. My name is Junmyeon. It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Chanyeol,” the said boy supplies.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon repeats back to him, his previously contrite smile now melting into an expression as amiable as the feeling alight in his eyes.

He clears his throat then, averting his gaze to the one sitting next to him. “Baekhyun, don’t you think you should properly introduce your friend?” Junmyeon gives the young man a stern look, almost like a father chiding his son for not being a fit gentleman.

Baekhyun just gives him a cheeky, knowing grin. “Right! Hey, guys, this is Chanyeol.” A hushed, exasperated groan is audible from the opposite side of the table.

Chanyeol is somewhat surprised when, even through the roar of countless conversations in the cafeteria, all members of the rectangular table turn towards him and Baekhyun immediately; they dropped whatever discussion they were having with another, halted any other activity they were doing. He is even more dumbfounded to see how intensely attentive all their eyes look. Every young man at the table gives Baekhyun his undivided attention, acting like whatever he has to say takes extreme precedence, that whatever it will be is the most pivotal thing and nothing else matters.

But Baekhyun doesn’t miss a beat, and by the way he continues on so unphased by the strange behavior (at least Chanyeol thinks the severely concentrated and earnest interest in what Baekhyun has to say is strange), makes the boy think this sort of thing is normal.

It unnerves Chanyeol the slightest bit.

“You already know Junmyeon,” Baekhyun passes his hand almost dismissively over the other sitting across from him, and Chanyeol swears he hears a quiet “tch” coming from the said boy.

Chanyeol follows his hand, and before Baekhyun can say anything, he interjects, “Jongin, right?” Chanyeol smiles and slightly pushes out his chest in pride for remembering his name.

Jongin looks at him stunned at first, eyes wide with shock, but it soon dissolves into a grin, accompanied by a nod. “You remembered from earlier? But… Junmyeon didn’t even say it to you— it was at me.”

“I do actually pay attention sometimes. And I like to think I’m pretty good with names.”

At a sidewards glance, Chanyeol catches the corner of Baekhyun's mouth curl up in a barely discernable, close-lipped, proud smile.

“And this is Kyungsoo sitting next to him.”

The first thing Chanyeol notices is how large the guy’s eyes are. They’re captivating, truly, he thinks. But despite the general openness of the group since he arrived, Kyungsoo looks somewhat guarded and defensive. Chanyeol assumes it to be because he is new here, in foreign territory— their territory. He does receive from the other a small, placid smile, and a “Hello” from a voice so pleasantly deep and rich and full and sounding coated in silk. Kyungsoo pushes back a few pesky strands of hair to return them to the nest of bright burgundy hair. Chanyeol can’t help but to think the hair is ironic; with an undercut and dye-job making up a hairstyle so striking, it doesn’t seem to fit the quiet demeanor of the boy before him. Chanyeol wonders what kind of person Kyungsoo really is under his reserve.

“Oh, so this guy right here,” Baekhyun says as he swings an arm around the young man sitting on his opposite side, “is Minseok.”

The said boy gives Baekhyun a slightly annoyed glance before turning his attention to Chanyeol and lifting his hand in wave. “Hey. It’s nice to meet you Chanyeol.”

“And finally, this is Yixing,” Baekhyun says, pointing at the one beside Minseok (whom Baekhyun is still all over and leaning on in way that is probably meant to goad).

Yixing smiles, a dimple making an appearance in his right cheek, as a greeting, and says hello in a formal fashion, the words touched with a hint of a Chinese lilt. His smile is terribly kind too, Chanyeol notices. But where Junmyeon’s was warm and welcoming, Yixing’s is gentle and accepting.

It’s a lot to take in— all these new people. Chanyeol hopes desperately he’ll be able to remember all of their names and faces. Baekhyun always seems to be surrounded by this group, so Chanyeol needs to get along with them well, be friends with them, have his acceptance into this group be easy, get Baekhyun’s approval and make his thoughts of him positive.

And Chanyeol may also just have an inherent need to make everyone like him.

“So, are you going to tell me why you like to stare at me so much?” Baekhyun relinquishes his position leaning against Minseok, instead leaning in closer to Chanyeol himself. “I know my looks are breathtaking, but that can’t be the only reason, right, Chanyeol~?” The voice carries a blatant sing-song, jestful tone.

The latter’s cheeks flare with heat. A muffled laugh emanating from Sehun, who took the other seat next him when they came in, while Jongdae sat next to Junmyeon, causes Chanyeol to shoot the younger a side-wards glare before promptly elbowing him in the gut.

Sehun clutches at his stomach in reflex, and Chanyeol smiles sheepishly at Baekhyun as he hears wheezing eloquently laced with profanities beside him.

“I um…”

Maybe this would have been easier if everyone’s purely undivided attention wasn’t currently locked on him. Chanyeol is shameless to an extent, but explaining the more-often-than-not-joked-about reason behind his starring habit is something he can’t explain without embarrassment building in his core.

“This is going to sound really stupid and childish… But it’s because of your eyes. Sometimes I swear they change color. But, um, I’m sure it’s just the lighting or my imagination getting carried away!” Chanyeol rushes out the last sentence in an attempt to recover from the mortifying confession, words nearly slurring together in hurry. He drops his head out of accumulating chagrin and rolls his eyes because, really, it does sound stupid when you say it outloud.

He expects mocking laughter, the usual teasing and jabs at his pride, but when he lifts his gaze from the table, he is met with cold, blank eyes from every boy at the table. It is incriminating, the way they’re staring at him. The only exceptions are Jongdae and Sehun, who are used to hearing these words by now. Jongdae is glancing around, worry staining his face as his eyes shift back and forth; Sehun is trained on Baekhyun, waiting apprehensively to see how the other will react.

Time is standing still. Chanyeol can feel his pulse start to gradually quicken, hear the rushes of blood raging through his ears, notice his body become rigid as the nervousness and dread leave pricks as they slowly travel down his arms, to where he wishes for the perspiration in his palms to subside.

Chanyeol thought his words were innocent, would be seen as naïve, and brushed off as a joke. But the way every one of them are acting, the way their gazes seem to bore caverns into his skull, makes his words seem damning.

He catches movement; a flicker of Junmyeon’s eyes as the young man directs them, the irises now flaring with conviction, at Baekhyun. It takes only a moment after for the latter to notice, and then erupt into boisterous laughter. The looks soften again, return to a normal character, faces relax and adapt to the mood Baekhyun is setting. Whatever spell the moment was caught in, breaks.

“Eyes changing color? I didn’t know you were a Twihard, Chanyeol~”

“W-What??” Chanyeol looks at Baekhyun completely dumbfounded, still trying to figure out what the hell just happened, and not really processing the words now spewing from the other’s mouth. After a moment of realization, he soon raises his hands and flails them about as he shakes his head in adamant denial. “No! I’m not a Twilight fan!” And there’s the jab to his pride.

“It’s okay to have a guilty pleasure, Yeol. Edward makes the best of men weak in the knees,” Baekhyun drawls out, his voice eliciting even more pink to the surface of his skin, the words pushing him deeper into that ing hole Sehun talked about.

The rest of the lunch, thankfully, progresses without incident; in truth, it goes better than he expected. They talk the whole time, in which Chanyeol learns Jongin is the youngest among their group and really does act like a puppy at times, that Junmyeon fills the role of the awkward dad of the group (although Baekhyun likes to call him “Mom” at times just to rile him up), and that Kyungsoo is the newest addition to their circle at having joined last year. He is also surprised to find out Junmyeon, Minseok, and Yixing don’t attend this high school but are actually in university; they apparently planned their classes around this lunch period, so they could spend it with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo and Jongin. Chanyeol didn’t realize how close they all were until he found out this. For the eldest three to plan their entire schedule around this, just to have an hour or so during the day as a whole group, is a completely different level of loyalty and camaraderie he’s ever come across.

Baekhyun is just what Chanyeol expected him to be: fun, lively, a mood-maker. He can also be a bit of a piece of — but in a good way— and Chanyeol finds it nothing but extremely amusing. He can also be very touchy, having leaned against Chanyeol several times, rustled his fingers through the other’s hair, and occasionally pressing his thigh against Chanyeol’s. The latter doesn’t have a problem with this at all; in truth, he enjoys it immensely. Chanyeol is terribly needy for physical affection, but the fact that he also has a crush on the very person who is giving him this makes it all a little better.

Chanyeol nearly whines in complaint when the bell rings to signal the end of lunch, not wanting the period to end just yet. But Baekhyun invites him back, and when he even offers a permanent place at the table if he wanted it, Chanyeol can’t get his acceptance out fast enough. Chanyeol knows he must have come off as too eager, but at this moment in his ecstatic state, he really didn’t care all that much.

“And don’t forget to text me either, Yeol.”

Yeol. The boy feels his heart seize up at the sound of the new nickname. 

Chanyeol nods fervently in response, a large grin on his face as he throws out an “Of course” before he is being forcefully dragged away by Sehun, reminding him classes still exist outside of his bubble of elation.

They’re at the door of the cafeteria when Chanyeol turns to look back, wanting to catch one last look at Baekhyun. 

Chanyeol frowns a little at what he sees, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion and concern. Baekhyun and Junmyeon are engaged in an extremely heated conversation. The latter looks distressed and agitated, but worry is the one emotion from Junmyeon that screams out the loudest at Chanyeol. Baekhyun is defensive, arms crossed over his chest, expression hardened and words being obviously forced out in a manner that wouldn’t be attacking, though it seems Baekhyun doesn’t want to hold back what he really wants to say. 

It goes on like this for a few more moments before Chanyeol sees Junmyeon release a defeated sigh and watches his shoulders drop. He says a few more words to Baekhyun, they’re softer, no conviction laced in-between syllables, as a pleading look sets heavily on the other. Baekhyun stands stiff, gives no response. Junmyeon leaves.

And just as Sehun starts yanking him away again so they aren’t late, Baekhyun turns and locks eyes with Chanyeol. It hurts, seeing how troubled his gaze is, how much sadness is tightly woven in, the regret and guilt screeching at him and cutting him through like a knife.

But it’s the longing, the desperate longing he see in Baekhyun’s eyes as the doors shut, that slips through his lips, cascades down his throat and diffuses through his lungs, infects his blood, plants a glowing ember in his heart and nurses it until a fire burns a gaping hole in his chest. It’s the longing.

And through it all, Chanyeol thinks he saw those eyes flash a brilliant amber.
 

 

• -- • -- •

 

Chanyeol is generally a jubilant person; he’s constantly bearing that wide, bright grin of his, is overzealous in nearly everything he does, is never at a loss when a situation becomes anything dimmer than joyous. But the next few weeks that follow is probably the happiest he’s ever been before.

Things are really good. Chanyeol and Baekhyun text each other incessantly about anything and everything, they become incredibly close, spend as much time together as possible in and out of school. Chanyeol’s favorite moments are when the two of them go to Baekhyun’s house and play those first-person shooter games the latter can’t get enough of… and consequently almost kill each other in the process because they’re both maybe a little too competitive. And Baekhyun has taken a liking to leaning against Chanyeol any chance he gets, which makes Chanyeol’s pulse race and causes a small smile to grow every time; it’s comfortable, nice, and he wants more of it, honestly.

Baekhyun has also reached out to hold his hand several times, and Chanyeol continually goes to Sehun to talk about it afterwards. His eyes would be wide and glowing with elation and words flying out of his mouth at an inhuman speed as his hands flail wildly about in excitement, because this is the only way Chanyeol knows how to express anything— big, overdramatic movements and faces. And Sehun never fails to tell him he’s acting like a prepubescent teenage girl who just had her first kiss, and then reminds him with a smirk that he hasn’t even kissed Baekhyun yet. Chanyeol usually ends up hitting him and says he’ll never tell him anything ever again, but he, of course, always comes back anyway.

He’ll ask Baekhyun out soon, he thinks… Or rather eventually. It would be pretty ideal if his nerves didn’t perpetually get in the way every time he tries.

 

• -- • -- •

 

He knew it was supposed to rain too, which makes this situation ironic— and all the more infuriating.

It has been twenty-three minutes since Chanyeol started debating whether or not he should leave, watching the rain cascade in sheets down from the dismal, gray sky, and hearing faint rolls of thunder creep ever closer. But two and a half hours— that's how long it's been storming relentlessly like this. Chanyeol thought he would have stopped hearing those abhorrent clicks of rain by now, yet when he looks up from his biology textbook, naïvely hopefully the rain had at least lightened, those droplets cackle thrivingly still as they slither down the large pane of glass before him.

A frustrated sigh is exhaled from his lips as the boy's face loudly crashes into the open pages on the table. Of all days to forget his umbrella, it had to be this one. At least he didn't have his laptop today. Once he raises his head again, Chanyeol is met with the piercing glare of the librarian at the check-out desk, tucking a stray brunette hair back into her otherwise perfect, precisely-crafted updo. This is when he decides to finally leave.

Clumsy hands hastily pack away the loose notes and tome of a textbook before Chanyeol rushes from his little bar top table in the corner, guilt and a bit of nervousness chasing at his heels as he feels the annoyed woman's gaze boring into his back. He swears the librarians here live by a code of "silence or death," which he finds just a little excessive for the setting of a public library.

It's five fairly long blocks to the bus stop, and Chanyeol can't help but wonder if it started pouring harder since he came outside. He bounces back and forth on his feet, and dread seeps from the frown on lips into the contours of his face as he gathers enough will to force himself out of the tiny sanctuary of the library awning. 

Five.

He makes sure to keep his head hung to the ground, not wanting the stinging water to attack his face, and the boy walks at the most brisk pace he can manage.

Four.

Chanyeol clenches his teeth as the frigid rain pelts the back of his neck. This would be better, he thinks, if he could listen to music, but he wouldn't dare risk the life of his headphones. All he has to focus his attention on is the water sinking into his shirt. Great.

Three.

Three more blocks, three more blocks, three more blocks, three more blocks, three more blocks...

Tw—

How Chanyeol manages to catch the silhouette in the alley, he has no clue, and for a moment he believes he's even hallucinating. Because there’s now way he should have been able to see through this rain, and there’s absolutely no way that could be... He takes a few apprehensive steps forward, wiping the water away from his eyes, and that is enough to confirm it’s who he wishes could have been anyone else.

He sprints the short distance to the back of the alley, no longer caring about the pellets dousing his face, but only focused on the fallen figure in the rain.

“Baekhyun! Baekhyun? Are you alright??”

Chanyeol want to hit himself as soon as the words spew from his mouth, because of course he isn’t. The boy before him has collapsed down to his hands and knees, clothes and hair completely sodden, backpack and the contents strewn haplessly about the unforgiving concrete. It’s only when he finally reaches him, immediately crashing to the ground right in front of him, does he notice the way Baekhyun’s arms are tremoring with impossible violence, notices the tears in his shirt with cuts peeking underneath, and the blood streaming down from his temple in time with the falling rain.

There’s no way to figure exactly how long the boy has been here in this state, but Chanyeol is certain it’s been awhile, and it unnerves him to think the other was just left here like this, unable to help himself. Chanyeol doesn’t know how he’s supposed to handle this situation falling apart not even a foot away from him. So maybe this is why, when he reaches out after too many seconds of silence, his hand shakes.

His fingers weave into the other’s hair and pushes back the fringe obscuring Baekhyun’s face. It takes everything in Chanyeol not recoil at the sight, and he feels his stomach contort into the most painful of knots. He always thought of red and purple and blue to be beautiful colors, but as those very pigments stare back at him, littered across a once beautiful face in the form of gashes and scrapes and hauntingly dark bruises, he is consumed with disgust.

“Baekhyun?…” Chanyeol’s voice is on the verge of cracking, so weighted with worry that it’s a miracle anything came out at all. The other boy’s breathing is ragged beyond measure, crimson slipping through his parted lips as pained, pathetic noises leave his throat, and his eyes are still closed— he just wants Baekhyun to open his eyes.

The shock of amber is enough to stop Chanyeol’s heart. Mesmerised doesn’t even come close to describing the way those inhuman eyes affect him.

Glimpses. He‘s only caught glimpses of those irises. And even then he was so unsure; who could ever carry such a brilliant color in their gaze? But now, Chanyeol knows it wasn’t simply some trick of the light.

The mass of questions start building in his mind and jumping on his tongue, begging to be released, and he wants to know more, needs to know more about the boy who is still a mystery to him even after how close they’ve become.

But he swallows them for now.

“B-Baekhyun, what happened?” Chanyeol hates the stutter and wavering etched into his voice. He isn’t the one that’s been beaten almost to the point of being unrecognizable in the face, yet fear tears at his insides.

The boy looks back at him, almost as if he’s in a daze. Chanyeol wouldn’t be surprised if Baekhyun is unable register that it’s someone familiar in sitting right in front of him, considering one eyes has been rendered useless due to the red, angry, massive swelling, the relentless rain, and the state his mind must be shredded into. Chanyeol does finally see the spark of recognition pass over his eyes a few moments later; however, no words are muttered, and Baekhyun’s head hangs back down to the concrete, hair unthreading from the other’s fingers.

The anxiety roots deeper in Chanyeol’s chest, tangling in-between his ribs and viciously wrapping around his heart. He feels himself freezing up, but Baekhyun needs help. This is the only thing that matters right now, and he can’t have the luxury of letting fear disassociate him from reality.

“Baekhyun, we have to get you to a hospital or something. This looks really seriou—”

Chanyeol is suddenly yanked down by the neckline of his t-shirt, the momentum from that harsh action nearly enough to send him toppling onto the other boy. The breath hitches in his throat the instant he manages to regain his bearings. He was already close to Baekhyun before, enough so to make nerves trapeze about in his stomach, yet now his heart is racing at an impossible rate, hearing pounding too loudly in his ears, because Baekhyun isn’t even an inch away anymore. Their foreheads are all but grazing each other, and Baekhyun’s eyes are here, centimeters away at most, his mangled skin, the breath on his lips— Baekhyun’s lips are right there, right there…

A desperate plea then breaks through Chanyeol’s thoughts.

Right. Not the time for that.

“No— not the hospital. Please, not there. I can’t go to a hospital, I can’t, I can’t, please, don’t…”

For someone who is perpetually smiling, whose laugh is contagious, who has a personality as bright and magnificent as the sun, words this panicked, desperate, so defeated should have never been uttered from his mouth. He looks more frightened animal than man, and Chanyeol’s heart aches.

As much as Chanyeol wants to say no, that the wounds inflicted upon him need professional care, he can’t speak that simple word— not when those eyes carry so much terror.

“O-Okay, I won’t take you there.” The fist in his shirt relaxes in relief. “But I need to take you home then, at least.”

Baekhyun shakes his head furiously back and forth, that panicked tone rising in his words again. “No… My parents will kill me when they see me like this, and I can’t… I can’t deal with that right now.”

Chanyeol doesn’t consider himself to be a pushover, and were it anyone else, he would have refused this, especially after giving in to not going to a hospital. But this is Byun Baekhyun, the one he sees as his puppy, his person to care for and protect, and he would go great lengths to makes this boy happy and give him what he wants. This boy, over these years of high school, and especially these past few weeks, has managed to hide and root himself in Chanyeol’s heart, pulling at the strings and bending his will; whether it is for better or for worse, uplifting or entirely damning, Chanyeol can’t ever seem to decide.

“I…” Chanyeol lets out a shaky sigh of defeat, glancing into the other’s pleading gaze. “But where do I take you?”

He’s somehow able to decipher the wave of confusion washing over Baekhyun’s distorted face, and Chanyeol realizes the other hadn’t thought his whole plan through. After a few moments of listening to nothing but droplets of rain pelt against the buildings and concrete of this city, Baekhyun asks in an enervated voice, “Could you… Could you take me to your place for awhile?...”

Despite the circumstances, the response of “yes” launches so rapidly from Chanyeol’s tongue. He was too eager again. He does suppose it lucky that his parents chose to go out tonight; Chanyeol isn’t sure how he would have explained why there was a boy beaten half-to-death being drug into the house.

Baekhyun blinks a few times, staring at Chanyeol with a blank expression, dumbfounded at the quickness and vigor of that one word. But he soon nods and moves his still trembling arm to weakly grip the other’s shoulder.

Chanyeol hisses quietly as a sharp pain pierces through his shoulder, even with how weak the hold is. Chanyeol glances over to the shoulder Baekhyun’s hand grabbed onto, completely at a loss as to why there was pain under the other’s fingers, until he sees long, rough, black claws protruding where fingernails should be.

Chanyeol feels panic rise up and consume his throat, blocking his only way to oxygen, causing adrenaline and the urge for flight to tear through his body. The questions spin and accumulate even faster in his head, and the curiosity and apprehension and underlying fear itch just beneath his skin. Those can’t be real. Those aren’t human— that’s not human.

He falls almost as soon as he tries to stand, and Chanyeol just barely manages to grasp his clumsy hands onto the boy’s small frame.

“Just take it easy, okay?” Chanyeol tries desperately to keep the nerves out of his voice as he tightens his hold and carefully repositions Baekhyun’s arm over his shoulder, then making sure to crouch down a little to whisk away the height difference. “I got you.”

Baekhyun nods and, for once, decides to let himself be at the complete mercy of another as he relinquishes all the tension left in him. All of his will had been beaten out of him anyway.

“If you let go and drop me, Park Chanyeol, I won’t hesitate to kick your …”

Chanyeol can’t help but to crack a small smile, even if the words are soft and feeble and crushed sounding. Even in the worst circumstances, Baekhyun always tries to lighten it somehow, doesn’t he?

Two blocks until the bus stop.

 

 

 

It’s at some early point, during the half-mile walk from the bus stop to Chanyeol’s house, that Baekhyun’s legs completely give away. The sheer suddenness at which the shorter’s weight drops causes them both to crash onto the asphalt, Baekhyun on his side, Chanyeol on his knees. Baekhyun doesn’t even attempt to stand now, knowing there’s no point in the futile action.

Chanyeol would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a tiny bit enthralled at the opportunity to carry him.

He swings his backpack around to his front, slinging the straps on so the bag rests against his chest and stomach. It’s a bit awkward trying to situate Baekhyun on his back in a secure and comfortable way, but the gangly teenager somehow manages, albeit not void of failed attempts and flustered apologies and half-hearted teasing.

Chanyeol is holding on a little too tightly to the other, and his mind is racing in perpetual, chaotic loops, because he can feel the gentle press of a soft tummy against every inch of his back, and a shallow breath caressing his neck, and rain-matted hair melding with his own, and— ...Blood smearing against his skin is what brings him back to earth. Something must have opened up.

The crimson breathes fire as it fashions a path down Chanyeol’s arm. He tries not to shudder.

 

 

 

Chanyeol can practically hear his mother’s nagging roaring in his elvish ears as he swings open the door; he physically cringes at the storm of clothes, shoes, papers, books, CDs, and discarded wrappers of food that make up his room.

It takes Baekhyun a moment to process the whole spectacle of Park Chanyeol’s bedroom, only opening his mouth to lightly jest, “And I thought I was messy.” Chanyeol knew there was a smirk coaxing up the other’s lips.

“Don’t forget that you’re on my back and I could drop you at any second.”

He shuffles water-logged shoes through the chaos, wincing as he hears the crunching of an abandoned bag of chips under his foot, and finds a path to the bed. He sits down and Baekhyun slowly untangles his battered body from around Chanyeol; he moves, limbs screeching and biting in protest until he is finally laying down, eyes closing, pride vanishing, and resolve melting away and stitching into the bed sheets beneath him.

Chanyeol glances over at his clock and sees the glowing red numbers displaying 8:06pm. He shifts his eyes back over to Baekhyun, who appears smaller than ever with his curled up frame on the queen sized mattress, and Chanyeol can already see the even rise and fall of the other’s chest, signaling he’s quickly fallen into sleep. He hasn’t even been in the bed for a minute.

Chanyeol’s teeth reach out to chew on his bottom lip, the gnawing only growing in intensity the more he thinks about what happened— what he saw. Why was he left beaten in the back of an alley? Why did he refuse to go to a hospital and his own house? Why do his eyes change to that amber color? Why did he seem to grow claws out of his fingers? What is he?

He stares at Baekhyun on the bed awhile longer before releasing a tired sigh. Tomorrow. He’ll ask tomorrow after Baekhyun has recovered some from all of this.

Chanyeol drops into the chair at his cluttered desk, setting his backpack down and pulling out the biology textbook to study a little more for the test tomorrow. He can’t skip, with the test looming over his head, so he’ll go to school tomorrow, let the other stay here while he’s gone, and when he gets back— if Baekhyun is still here— he’s going to get answers. He’s not going to let Baekhyun go until his questions are given the answers he needs.

It’s an hour later when Chanyeol gives up studying. He doesn’t bother returning the book to his bag, emitting frustrated mumbling about “all this DNA bull” as he rises to change into shorts and a loose t-shirt to sleep in.

He lifts the blankets of his bed and carefully moves onto the mattress, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. Chanyeol twists to face Baekhyun, and his back is turned at him. He can’t see much with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains, but it’s enough to make out the curves of the blanket accommodating the boy’s form. He wants to run his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair, pull him closer, tell him it’s okay, wrap his own body around the other so he knows he’s protected here, with him.

Chanyeol turns away, a wall staring back at him instead of a sleeping silhouette.

 

 

 

When Baekhyun finally rouses, the first thing he sees is a small sheet of paper resting on his pillow, scrawled over with black ink.

My parents should be gone for work by the time you wake up, so you can go wherever in the house. There’s food in the fridge and the cabinets if you’re hungry. You can stay as long as you want to, or leave. I’ll be back when school ends. I’m sorry I had to leave you alone, but I couldn’t miss this biology test I’m probably going to fail anyway.
Chanyeol

Baekhyun smiles.

 

 

 

“How did your test go?”

Chanyeol really expected him to leave while he was gone. He’s surprised— shocked even— that Baekhyun chose to wait for him, and he’s sure he looks like a fish right now with his eyes wide and mouth moving up and down, trying to form some coherent words.

“It— w-well— um…” Chanyeol clears his throat. “It went okay, yeah,” he manages to spurt out.

“That’s good,” Baekhyun gives him a small smile.

Chanyeol notices a few volumes of manga he had on his shelf now lying amidst the tousled sheets, and he can’t stop the tiny grin cracking on his lips. But it melts away completely when the red splotches scream at him against the pure-white linen. He looks over Baekhyun then, and immediately feels nauseous.

“You didn’t… take a shower or anything?…” Chanyeol’s voice is low, tentative.

Baekhyun looks at the other confused for a moment before he’s struck with realization; he glances down at himself, at his torn clothes and the dried blood clinging to his skin. “Oh. Right.” He looks back up at Chanyeol, a sheepish smile now on his face. “I might have forgotten to do that. And also I didn’t want to use your shower without asking first.”

“I said you could go anywhere in the house.”

“Yes, but you didn’t say I could use everything in the house.”

Chanyeol groans and slides a hand down his face in exasperation. “Well, we’re going to get you clean now then.” He pushes back the nerves, moving to the bathroom connected to his room and opening the door, turning to look at Baekhyun. “Get in. We need see how badly you’re hurt.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t argue as he pushes himself off the bed. Chanyeol winces as he hears the quiet, pained noises falling off his lips.

Baekhyun, slowly, makes it into the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bathtub when Chanyeol prompts him to do so. The latter reaches in the cabinet under the sink and retrieves a first aid kit before moving over to Baekhyun and grabbing a small towel. “Hold out your arms.”

Baekhyun obliges, watching Chanyeol turn on the hot water and dousing the towel. He cleans the flaking blood off his arms, carefully, methodically, making sure to be delicate when he passes the towel over scrapes, and triple-checking to be certain he doesn’t miss any spots. Chanyeol frowns when reaches the hands, stomach curling as he sees the severely bruised knuckles decorated with cuts and missing layers of skin. It looks like he had been throwing punches at a brick wall.

He swallows the bile rising in his throat and proceeds to clean them off, his touch being feather-light. Chanyeol is certain to look at the other’s nails in the process. No claws. No sign of anything inhuman.

He moves to Baekhyun’s face. They’re close again. Not like yesterday in the alley, but still enough to make Chanyeol’s breath falter for a moment. He can feel Baekhyun’s piercing gaze on him with every movement, feels the heavy tension gradually settling in the room. Chanyeol can’t meet Baekhyun’s stare, not when a shudder runs through his body at the sheer intensity of it, without him even seeing the other’s eyes. Now Chanyeol holds his breath.

It looks worse than yesterday. The bruises had time to mature and blossom into something even more ghastly, the swelling around Baekhyun’s left eye has lessened, but still leaves irate reds and purples and yellows in its wake, and a lump has grown over his temple. Chanyeol can properly see the cuts now too, after having taken the towel and ridding the other’s face of blood-matted hair and dried clumps of crimson. Most are surface wounds, probably acquired from having fallen to the concrete, but there are a few that are deep. One in particular over Baekhyun’s cheekbone makes Chanyeol sick; it’s ragged, not a swift slice to the skin, and it gapes open. It couldn’t have been a knife that did this. It was too messy— too feral.

Chanyeol puts brings down the towel, the color of rust now dancing with white, as a blush rises to his cheeks. “Um I need you to take off your shirt. S-So I can get to your chest and back…”

He hears Baekhyun laugh softly, the word “cute” mingling with the light sound.

For someone with as small a build as Baekhyun, he had more muscle than Chanyeol would have thought. He was of course still on the more petite side, the muscle incredibly lean rather than bulky, but as Chanyeol watched the other’s body stretch and contract with movement, there was no denying how strong he must be.

“Hey.”

Chanyeol snapped his head up, brought out of his trance by the prodding voice. “Huh?”

“Are you going to keep playing doctor or stare at my chest?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at Chanyeol, and the smirk is painfully blatant on his lips.

“Sh-Shut up, Byun, and let me get the rest of this crusty blood off you…” Chanyeol mutters indignantly as he gently pushes Baekhyun’s shoulder, wordlessly asking for him to turn around. The smirk stays vibrant as Baekhyun faces the wall, his back now to the other.

Chanyeol stays still for a moment, gripping the towel tightly, nervous energy dancing within his skin. You don’t get anywhere without taking chances, is what he tells himself.

He in a silent breath and reaches out his hand, fingertips connecting with skin. Baekhyun shivers at the unexpected change, though one not entirely unwelcome, and Chanyeol is unsure for a minute, but pushes away his doubts soon enough. He traces his touch across the expanse of Baekhyun’s back, taking in the smooth plane, avoiding the abrasive lacerations that tarnish it, working his way up until his palm rests atop the other’s shoulder. It feels small under his hand.

Chanyeol carefully slides his palm down the length of Baekhyun’s arm, ending with his fingers gently wrapped around the other’s wrist. Now. Do it now.

“… Baekhyun… What are you?”

The arm in his hold goes completely rigid, and this is when Chanyeol knows that whatever Baekhyun refutes will be a lie.

“That’s a weird question, Yeol,” Baekhyun says, the words trying to be casual, but sounding incredibly forced.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know, actually. Now you’re just acting strange.”

Chanyeol’s fingers slightly constrict Baekhyun’s wrist as the agitation builds in his chest. “Stop avoiding it. Answer the question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo—”

“Stop bullting me! Why were you left for dead in an alley? Why did I see the claws of a dog on your hand? Why do your eyes change color?”

Chanyeol doesn’t realize how tight his grip has gotten until he hears the choked, pained whimpers from the other boy.

Chanyeol’s eyes widen and and he lets go instantly, backing away a few feet from Baekhyun, hanging his head in shame, guilt already ravaging his insides. “I’m sorry, I just…” Chanyeol lets out a quiet sigh. “I thought the first time I noticed it at school I was going crazy. People’s eyes can’t change like that; it’s not supposed to be possible. But then I kept seeing it again. Your eyes would never stay that color though, only come and go in flashes. I see it, and then I blink and that amber color is gone. And Sehun didn’t make things any better by telling me I actually was losing my mind, and Jongdae basically ignored me or changed the subject every time I brought it up. But last night when you opened your eyes and looked at me, it was right there, and it didn’t go away until we left the alley. And your hands… I saw claws. Long, black nails that couldn’t belong to a human. You can deny it, but I know what I saw. I can’t write it off as my imagination anymore.

I’ve been intrigued by this for so long, but also confused about everything. I’m so confused...”

It’s silent for so long after that Chanyeol almost gets up to leave, ready to give up on what he knew would be a futile attempt anyway. But he stops when a soft, defeated voice breaks through the air.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Chanyeol stares at Baekhyun, back still facing him, but now the other boy has his head in his palms. Chanyeol swallows, apprehension swimming in his veins, but responding in a voice filled with reassurance. “Try me.”

“I’m a werewolf.”

Okay I couldn’t have heard that right.

“You’re a… you’re what?”

Baekhyun sighs, and Chanyeol thinks it’s like the sound of a man who just signed his soul over to Death. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Chanyeol stays silent.

Baekhyun groans.

“I’m. A. Were. Wolf. As in a man who changes into a wolf, like in mythology, like in fairy tales, like in all those stupid books and movi—”

“THAT’S SO AWESOME!”

Baekhyun snaps his head up and turns back around to face Chanyeol, shock and bewilderment swarming over his face. “..... What?”

“You’re a werewolf? That’s so freaking cool, are you kidding me?? Why would you be afraid to tell me that? I have so many questions this is going to be great oh my god I know someone that’s a werewolf my life isn’t going to be boring as hell anymore I’msoexcitedrightnowyoudon’tundersta—”

Baekhyun’s mind blocks out the enthralled babbling. He just stares at Chanyeol, watches his mouth move at a speed that probably isn’t normal, takes in how he looks like a kid who was dropped into the middle of a candy store, sees him grinning that too wide smile that reaches both of his stupid, disproportionately large ears, watches his eyes shine ten times brighter than he’s ever seen before.

Baekhyun is at a complete loss with this guy.

“You’re not... scared of me?”

Chanyeol breaks off his endlessly flowing stream of words as soon as he hears Baekhyun’s voice, and then scoots over on his to the latter as fast as he can, stopping right in front of Baekhyun and looking up, tips of his toes touching the porcelain of the bathtub. “Hell no! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me! You have to tell me more, Baek. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Extra cherries? Whipped cream? Rainbow sprinkles? Chocolate syrup? Hot carame—”

Chanyeol chokes on his words and his eyes are blown wide when a hand is abruptly slapped over his mouth.

“Chanyeol. Please, for the love of God just shut up for two seconds.” Baekhyun stares him down with a glare in his eyes, but the small smile on his lips tells Chanyeol the other doesn’t mean it all.

The hand is removed from Chanyeol’s lips.

Two seconds pass.

“Okay, but seriously though you have to tell me everything, you can’t keep me in the dark here now that I know you’re werewolf, you can’t just drop a bomb like that and then not give me anything else, that’s cruel on so many levels.”

Baekhyun has his hand over his own mouth now, trying to muffle the laughter that’s making his shoulders shake. Chanyeol smiles.

“God, it’s like you don’t have an off switch,” Baekhyun finally manages after recomposing himself.

“Hey, you said two seconds, my guy.”

Baekhyun snorts. “‘My guy’?”

“What? I can’t at least try to be cool by saying that kind of stuff?” Chanyeol puts a bit of defense into his words.

“No, Chanyeol. No, you can’t.”

Chanyeol pouts after, crossing his arms over his chest out of indignance and muttering indistinctly.

“Hey, you.”

Chanyeol looks up to meet Baekhyun’s eyes, determined to keep the pout on his face and not give in, but his heart stops and he falls onto his back out of pure shock when he sees how close Baekhyun had leaned in towards his face. Their noses were almost touching before Chanyeol lost his balance and became a turtle.

He hears a chuckle from Baekhyun, and Chanyeol quickly sits back up and dusts himself off, hoping his cheeks aren’t broadcasting too much pink. “Don’t scare me like that, you jerk,” he mutters half-heartedly.

“What? You don’t like me being close to you like that?” Baekhyun has a blinding smirk on his face that Chanyeol would love nothing more than to smack off his face.

“It’s not that. I just… um…”

“You just what?”

“I— um… Okay, I will not be the victim of your games. Stop ing with me, Byun Baekhyun.”

“I’m not ing you, Park Chanyeol, considering my is currently not up your .”

“I’m going to leave and lock you in here if you keep being a piece of .”

“The lock’s on the inside of the door, Yeol.”

“You won’t let me win, will you?”

“Of course not.” Baekhyun gives him the cheekiest ing grin he’s ever seen in his life.

“Yeah, I’m leaving.” Chanyeol pushes himself off the tile floor, turning his back to Baekhyun and promptly leaving him behind. 

He’s about five steps out of the bathroom doorway before he feels lithe fingers wrap around his wrist. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just like to joke and mess around.”

Chanyeol looks down at his wrist, and then back up to see earnest, apologetic eyes. Chanyeol smiles warmly back at him, harboring no resentment in the slightest. “You don’t have to apologize. I knew you were just trying to get a reaction out of me, as per usual.”

He feels a thumb rub soft, careful circles into his pulse. “If you wanted to touch me, you just had to ask.”

Chanyeol’s mouth goes dry, and he’s sure Baekhyun can feel his heart rate skyrocket. “W-What?”

“The bathroom. Your hand. My back. My arm.”

“Oh, um, yeah, that,” Chanyeol offers a sheepish half-smile.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do you want to ask me something?”

“No?…”

“Are you dense or just oblivious? Because it’s getting hard to tell at this point.”

“I am not dense. Maybe slightly oblivious, but not that muc—”

“Hey, Chanyeol.”

“What? You just interrupted me, by the wa—”

“Can you do me a favor?”

Chanyeol groans as he feels the light tug on his wrist, akin to the kind of action a small child would do to get someone’s attention. “What do you want now?”

“I want you to grow a pair and kiss me because I’m getting impatient with these several weeks of chasing after an oblivious tree with Yoda ears only getting me the occasional hand holding.”

Chanyeol is left staring speechless at Baekhyun, adrenaline going haywire, sudden anxiety turning his stomach upside-down, heart about to break free of his chest, throat constricting with nerves and expectancy. Little does he know that the seemingly forever-confident Baekhyun feels the same exact way. Chanyeol can only give a tiny, singular nod in response before moving a hand to carefully hold the side of Baekhyun’s face, tilt it up, and then softly press against his lips.

It’s feels strange at first, with Baekhyun’s lips being severely split, but they manage. Chanyeol’s fingers move to curl lightly in the other’s hair, Baekhyun’s hands rest easily at the taller’s hips, and neither takes until the other gives. It isn’t hungry, wanting, or desperate; it’s slow, gentle, and allaying.

But despite Chanyeol’s best efforts in trying not to hurt Baekhyun, a quiet whine of pain breaks through the kiss when their lips push together the slightest bit too hard.

Baekhyun pulls back with a disappointed, breathy laugh. “Maybe we should wait until I’ve recovered some.”

Chanyeol doesn’t respond initially, instead taking in every detail of Baekhyun’s face. And even with the swollen eye, and cheekbone gash, and dark bruises, and other superficial scrapes, Chanyeol thinks he’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Okay, Baekhyunnie,” he murmurs, placing a feather-light kiss to the smaller’s nose.

“Baekhyunnie?...” Baekhyun lowers his head when he notices heat rising to his cheeks. “You should call me that more often. I like it.”

Chanyeol smiles to himself when he takes in the other looking like a demure little thing, nothing like the Baekhyun he’s used to. “Will do,” he says, tapping lightly under Baekhyun’s chin to make him look up, which he obliges. “Under one condition: I want one day where I can ask as many questions as I want about all this werewolf stuff.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but does end up nodding eventually. “Okay, fine. But give me a couple days so I can break it to my pack that you know about werewolves now and so they can process it.”

“Your pack?” Chanyeol questions, head tilted slightly to the side.

“Yeah, my pack. There’s seven of us including myself, and I’m the alpha.”

“You’re ting me.”

“Nope.”

“First I find out about werewolves, and then I learn my boyfriend is the alpha. Man, I really hit the jackpot here.”

“So I’m you’re boyfriend now, am I?” Baekhyun asks, an amused smirk on his face.

Chanyeol falters, trying form coherent words he can’t seem to grasp after being called out so suddenly. “I um… Yeah, but only if you want to,” he manages to mumble out.

“You really are oblivious,” Baekhyun tsks.

“Am not! And that’s not an answer.” Chanyeol voice is wavering slightly as he says, “Do you want to?...” He knew it was stupid to ask, when Baekhyun was the one himself who wanted to be kissed, but Chanyeol can’t have uncertainty rooting in his head, and poisoning the good from this with doubt.

“Of course, you .”

 

• -- • -- •

 

Chanyeol doesn’t see Baekhyun at school the rest of the week, but does get the occasional text message to let him know he’s not dead. He says he’s been sleeping a lot, trying to recover as fast as he can, Chanyeol supposes.

After a few days, the messages change into bland and abrupt things, completely unlike the teasing and bright words he’s become accustomed to. It feels off.

 

 

 

Monday circles back around and Chanyeol is running late for class after sleeping through his alarm for the fifth time this month. His mother says he doesn’t set the volume high enough, but he’s had it raised to the max for the past couple weeks. He’s come to the conclusion his brain adapts to his alarm. No matter how many times he changes the sound or increases the volume, his subconscious will adjust and have a good ing laugh every time he has to run out of the house with hair sticking up in tuffs, one sock forgotten, missed toothpaste clinging to the corner of his lips, crappy canned coffee in hand, and eyes still bloodshot from lingering sleep. It’s sadly starting to become routine at this point.

He crashes through the doors of the school, barreling down the halls and almost falling on his after rounding a corner on the slick tile, hoping whatever his teacher droned on about during the first half of class is irrelevant; he has a 50/50 shot.

Chanyeol nearly screams when he’s yanked back by the handle of his backpack from behind and pushed against the lockers.

“Miss me?”

It takes a second for Chanyeol to clear his head, the world still looking like the inside of a kaleidoscope after the momentum caused his head to snap backwards and harshly connect with the metal. Once his vision and the vertigo clears, he takes in the shorter boy standing before him, an amused, proud smirk alight on his face.

“What the hell Baekhyun? Were you trying to give me a heart attack??” Chanyeol fumes, not so much out of anger at Baekhyun, but because he literally just rolled out of bed and certainly looks like it. Chanyeol lifts a hand to start fussing with his hair, trying to make the action look casual as he attempts to tame his unruly bedhead.

“No. I just wanted to see you after not being able to for awhile.” Baekhyun reaches up and wipes away the dried toothpaste on the other’s mouth. “Woke up late?”

Chanyeol has never felt so small and self-conscious. “Slept through my alarm, yeah.” He gives up on his hair, accepting the fact he can’t fix it all and probably just made it look worse. “Wait— How did you know I was here?”

“I could hear your heavy footsteps running towards the school and smell your pheromones. Perks of being a werewolf, number one: Heightened senses,” Baekhyun says nonchalantly, as if it’s common knowledge.

“So… You’ve heard me every time I’ve been late? And the rest of your pack has too?”

“You’re catching on fast.”
 
Great.

This is when Chanyeol finally realizes Baekhyun looks completely normal, one hundred percent healthy and able, flawless. There’s no swelling, no bruises, no cuts. He places his hand against  the side of Baekhyun’s face, gently holding it as his thumb traces over where the gash on his cheek was, where there wasn’t even a scar left in reminder. “Damn, your healing ability must through the roof.”

Baekhyun laughs lightly, nodding as he leans into the warmth of Chanyeol’s palm. “Perk number two.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to go to the hospital, right? Because you’re physically different and they’d be able to tell?”

“Exactly.”

Chanyeol’s eyes light up then as he recalls the promise Baekhyun made him. “Hey, so you said you’d let me have a day where I could ask as many questions as I want, right? Could that day be today?” His voice is bright, excited, and expectant.

He earns an eyeroll from Baekhyun. “Yeah, sure. Might as well get it out of the way now. We can do it during lunch.”

“Yes!” Chanyeol jumps and raises his fist in the air in victory, but mostly out of pure delight. “I’ll find a way to get rid of Sehun and Jongdae.”

Baekhyun tilts his head at him quizzically with a slight frown on his lips. “Jongdae…?”

“Yeah. I, of course, didn’t tell him and Sehun, so they don’t know about any of this. I figured they shouldn’t be around when we start talking about it.”

Baekhyun still appears at a loss, confusion dancing in his eyes and brows now furrowing in thought. He looks troubled about something, and Chanyeol wonders if he said something wrong. But he guesses Baekhyun must have figured it out, because he sees understanding soften his gaze and smooth his features until he melts back into his usual disposition.

“Okay, that sounds like a plan,” Baekhyun finally responds, a smile having replaced the previously downturned lips. “But I’m doing this with my pack. They’ll be able to help. And I don’t think I could handle your rapid fire twenty questions game alone.”

“I get to meet your pack? At lunch? But I thought they didn’t go to school here…?”

Baekhyun laughs again, shaking his head in disbelief as he gives Chanyeol a mock chastising look. “Chanyeol, you’ve already met them.”

 

 

 

He feels stupid, honestly. It should have been so obvious to him who Baekhyun’s pack is.

“So you were able to pry the big secret out of Baekhyun?” Minseok asks.
 
Chanyeol nods in response, feeling slightly sheepish under the familiar gazes of every boy at the table.

“I’m glad you finally know,” Kyungsoo adds. “Now we aren’t all on edge every time Baekhyun brings you around. We can actually relax no longer needing to hide anything.”

The tension in Chanyeol’s shoulders releases when he sees everyone at the table nod in agreement— except Junmyeon. He swallows down the nervousness lodged in his throat, asking in a tentative voice, “You don’t think so, Junmyeon?”

The elder locks his eyes on Chanyeol, expression guarded, mouth tightened into a thin line. “No. I’m not particularly thrilled with a human knowing about this world.”

Chanyeol’s face melts into crestfallen features as the guilt wraps slender fingers around his neck.

“But I’ll adjust. I just… Need time to get used to it. You being apart of this now.”

Chanyeol nods in understanding and he easily reclaims his excitement from before, though he can still feel the lingering touches of contrition on his skin.

He can feel the absence of Sehun at his side and Jongdae’s raucous, explosive laughter at the table, not realizing how much the loss of only two people can change the atmosphere. It’s strange sitting at table with seven when it’s never supposed to hold any less than the nine he’s come to love.

Wait.

Chanyeol counts the heads of the pack members, double, triple checking to make sure his head isn’t screwing with him, before he turns to Baekhyun with confusion plastered all over his face. “I thought you said there were seven of you guys?”

Baekhyun’s eyes flash with what Chanyeol thinks is alarm after he asks the question, but he blinks, and it’s gone before he can tell.

“He’s homeschooled. The tutor he has won’t let him leave during the day until he’s completely finished with his work, so that’s why. It he can’t be here with all of us everyday like this.” The words come out stiff, and when Chanyeol glances back at the others, he’s surrounded by perplexed faces.

Baekhyun clears his throat, somehow pacifying the puzzlement as the expression vanishes from each boy, like he’s telling them he’ll explain later, or something of that nature, Chanyeol thinks. “Speaking of people being gone, how did you manage to get rid of Jongdae and Sehun?”

“Well, Jongdae actually came to me in between classes and told me needed to study for this test he has next period, so he’s in the library right now. As for Sehun,” Chanyeol grins wickedly, “Sometimes the kid forgets to turn off the sound on his phone during class, so I took a chance and called him in the middle of second period. His phone got confiscated and he got lunch detention. He’s going to kill me later, but the worth.” He hears snickers from Baekhyun, Minseok, and Kyungsoo, muffled laughter from Jongin, and catches the eye roll Junmyeon supplies.

“Baekhyun said you wanted to ask us questions?” Yixing speaks for the first time.

Chanyeol’s eyes widen in realization, and then nods feverently. “Right! I did! Um, let’s see…” He goes through the mental list he compiled, trying to pick a decent one to start with, something that won’t make him look like a weeb. “Oh! How did you guys all meet each other? How did you become a pack? How does that even work— making a pack? And what are your positions? Baekhyun said he’s the alpha, but what about the beta and omega? And—”

“Chanyeol, calm down. We have the rest of the hour.” He feels Baekhyun place a hand on his thigh, running it lightly up and down in reassurance; Chanyeol’s cheeks tint pink.

Yixing is the one who speaks first. “We all met each other here, at school. Because we can smell pheromones, we can pick out who is a wolf and who’s human. We can also tell who is apart of a pack already and who isn’t; if a wolf is part of pack, the scent of all the other members cling onto them heavily. As for becoming a member, the alpha will ask if the the lone one wants to join, and other members of the pack can ask too, but the alpha has the right to reject. The way this works makes it a ‘free-for-all’ basically, and it can get difficult if two or more different packs want to recruit the same person.”

Chanyeol wonders what he means by “difficult.”

“I’m the beta,” Junmyeon continues. “As you know, Baekhyun is the alpha, and Jongin is our omega. The omega tends to be the youngest member of the pack, even if they aren’t the newest person to join. It’s mainly out of respect to the elder members. As for the beta— the second in command— the alpha chooses, based on qualities he deems important. And appointing the alpha… Some packs will vote, a member may just naturally fill the position, others will play mind games and work their way up until they’ve achieved it, and some fight for it. Most packs fight for it, actually,” Junmyeon says that last sentence a bit quieter than the rest, a frown hinting on his lips. “But for us, Baekhyun was the one who lead naturally, and before we even realized it, we were treating him as our alpha, so that’s what he became.”

Baekhyun rests his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder, and the latter slides his arm around the other’s thin waist. “Why do your eyes change color while you’re in your human form?” Finally he’ll be able to understand.

“Strong emotions,” Baekhyun murmurs beside him. “So say if we laugh at a joke that we find extremely funny, our eyes will change to the color they are when we’re wolves. Same thing if we’re extremely happy, excited, et cetera. Positive emotions typically only cause the eye change, but with negative emotions, such as intense frustration, or anger, or fear, other physical things may transform; you grow claws, your ears turn pointed, fur starts to grow. I think it’s a defense mechanism, because we’re stronger as wolves.”

Chanyeol nods again, feeling satisfied already with what he’s learned, but he, of course, needs to know more. “You guys are always together. I know that’s because of the whole pack thing, but you go out of your way to stay as close to each other as possible. Why is that?”

No one offers up an answer for a moment, all looking at each other like they need permission to talk about it, to mutter a single word. The tension is familiar, and he feels trapped, like the first time he sat here.

Minseok’s voice finally cuts through. “There are rival packs.”

Chanyeol doesn’t understand this. Why would there be rivalry in the first place? What is there even to fight over?

“Many packs are obsessed with power. They have this need to be the strongest, have the most influence, and want nothing to stand in their way,” Junmyeon states, words even, but hardened. “They want control of the city, hold it in their palm, and crush it when they’re ready.”

Unease starts to work through Chanyeol’s veins, pulling tension by the hand until the boy feels his whole body become rigid. “How do you guys gain power and control?...” He’s not sure if he truly wants to know the answer.

“Numbers. The larger a pack, the more muscle, more strategists, more influence you have. We’re always together because it’s safer that way. If we’re together, it’s harder for other packs to bring us down. Do you know why Minseok is always sitting next to Baekhyun? It’s because he’s the physically strongest of us all and the hardest one to break before they can get to Baekhyun.”

“But… Why would they need to get to Baekhyun?” He hears the slight shake in his voice.

“That’s how you acquire your numbers. You kill the alpha, you get his pack.”

Now Chanyeol wishes he had said nothing at all. His grip on Baekhyun’s side tightens as anxiety slithers down his throat and snakes through every inch of being, leaving behind the residue of fear that will grow and fester into something monstrous.

Maybe Baekhyun isn’t as protected as he thought.