Morning does come, eventually. When jagged lines of dusty light filter through curtains haphazardly shut, and the smell of coffee invades his senses. Baekhyun lifts his head from the table, and groggily rubs his eyes. He finds a blanket covering him, and an empty whiskey bottle on the table.

A flood of memories start to invade his senses, twirling around the headache thumping in his head. He jerks back recalling what happened last night. He remembers the disbelief that had swam through his drunken thoughts, and how, after another drink and a few rare moments of him being fragile and vulnerable in front of another person.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance and regret. He nearly facepalms, but resists the urge because he isn't entirely sure he has enough hand-eye coordination at the moment to not smack the glass and send it flying through the air.

What else he told her when he was drunk? She might take advantage of last night, thinking as if an unspoken bond of comradery had bloomed between them. He took a deep breath and forces himself to be calm.

“Coffee?”

He hears behind him, and he turn his back only to peer at her, cheerfully smiling at him. He groans out rudely and before he could answer, she placed the dark bitter beverage right in front of his sight. He gives a slight huff, before staring accusingly at the coffee.

“What's this?” he asked her, feeling uncomfortable with her being friendly around him. She raises her eyebrows at him confusingly, and the corners of her lips formed a small funny smile.

He didn't bestow her with a smile, instead he just a raise his expressive eyebrows and a scowl that he seemed to reserve especially for her, “You don’t have to do this. We are not friends,” he said.

Haru looked at him silently. She still felt like she didn’t quite have a grasp on the inner workings of his mind, but Haru couldn’t help but like him anyway. Baekhyun was a surly, sarcastic, drunken jerk, but Haru had caught glimpses of the compassionate and caring man inside, and for some reason, she seemed to like that part of him.

“Do you regret opening up to me?” she asked him, tilting her head slightly, not even being offended at all upon his hostility. “Don’t worry. I’m a good secret keeper. Your confessions are safe with me,”

He scoffed out a dry laugh, his eyes remained dark and menacing. He folded his arms across his chest, not wanting to look as if he wants to share his tales with her.

“What do you mean by pieces of you got chipped away?” Haru asked softly, digging at his silence. Baekhyun shakes his head, looked frustrated, angry and deflating.

“Don’t look at me as if I’m a broken piece of toy,” There is no warmth in his eyes or face when he speaks.

“You're not broken.” She smiled assuringly at him, “Just a little bend. But aren't we all?”

Being connected to the Haru is strange too for Baekhyun, reality is different now, almost unnatural to be aware of. There’s something so utterly complete he feels with her, something perfect and safe and warm. He looked at her, dubious and slightly startled.

I’m broken than anyone else, he thought.

“What is it that you're not telling me?” she asked him gently.

His expression is dismal. He looks like a mess; tired, malnourished, a little shaky, maybe even afraid. It hurts to look at. Rubbing his temples lightly, he bites his tongue, trying to think of what insults to say. Nothing comes to mind. 

He resolved not to wither under her gaze. He thought she might speak but she just stood straight, looking at him, blinking.

“When I was 8, I fell down from my bike. I had this huge cut on my forehead, and I've never seen so much blood in my life before. I thought I was going to die,” he recalled and it didn’t seemed like a pleasant memory for him. “My father called me weak because I couldn’t handle the pain,” Baekhyun squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to rid his vision of his father, feeling surprisingly numb as he spoke.

The blood tasted bitter and metallic, running hot everywhere on his face. He forgot how he fell, but wobbling from the house yard to the cool indoors was proving difficult. His legs were struggling beneath him as he gripped at the gates, using it as support for his fragile frame.

When he finally reached the door, he could hardly see. Tears welled in his eyes, pooling with the brown-red blood dripping down his chin and onto the wooly knit of his tawny cardigan. Every time he would glimpse down, something purple and blurred would appear, meeting between his eyes.

His face was hot, eyes tight and vision blurred. His entire face ached, in fact. It was hard to remember what happened, but when he got inside and settled on the floor, he thought it through. A hazy world surrounded him as his shaking knees knocked each other.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

A blur of grey, red and brown figure stood in front of his face, he couldn’t really understand what his father was saying. He was probably inquiring what happened, but as he pushed back Baekhyun’s matted hair from his forehead, that made his aching head throb.

Baekhyun’s vision went black again, and before he knew it, he was rested against another couch, this time.

His father noticed, hardly bending over to look at his son.

“What happened?” he asked. His father' s voice seemed strained, like he needed a glass of water.

“I fell off my bike,” The answer was followed by a tear from his eyes. He slowly opened his eyes and was met with the sight of his father staring at him disappointingly.

“Boys don’t cry,” his father said, as if he was disgusted with the sight of tears. “It is just a small cut. And that set you bawling like a baby. You’re weak. You’re going to have a hard life in the future.”

Baekhyun nodded and slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. He mentally kicked himself for not being able to hold back the gasps of pain as his abdomen muscles worked through the bruises.

“Crying makes you look weak. If you want to cry, then cry alone. Never shed even a tear in front of someone else,” his father said sternly. “The harder things get for you, the more you should laugh. Do not show your real self to anyone. That’s the only way you can survive,”

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun replied, watching his father carefully with tears threatening his eyes. “I’m sorry, father,”

Baekhyun was brought back to reality of someone running their fingers through his hair.

“It's still there,” Haru said, tracing the faint scar lightly on his forehead, being careful not to touch him too much, “Its huge. Anyone would have cried. It must be painful,”

Baekhyun flinched upon the contact, his body jerking slightly. He raised his arm to push her hands away. There were several minutes of silence where Haru could feel Baekhyun wanting to say something but he wanted nothing more than to just hide.

“I'll prepare breakfast,” she said first, ending the long pregnant pause between them.

//

Haru was folding the blanket when her phone beeped. She unconsciously put the blanket away and walked towards her nightstand. Her breathing hitches when she saw his name on the screen.

She picks up the phone nervously, and placed it upon her ear. “Sehun?” she asked breathlessly.

“Haru,” he whispered, his voice broken.

She expected something. Long and rambling details of his life or how he missed her cats. But there was something reserved about him. He’s different now. He’s quiet. Haru had never known this sort of stillness in him.

They didn’t say anything for quite a while. She could hear his breathing at the other end, and she's pretty sure that he can hear hers.

“I miss you.” He finally cracked. Sehun sounds exactly the same as he used to, and Haru closes her eyes as she sits on the bed. “I miss you, Haru,” he admits.

They didn’t speak very much, and even when the call ended, her imagination led her around to random places with him, and floating in her dream, she had seen all kinds of interesting things. She refuse to wake up from the dream, alone in the room, upset because she knew Sehun wasn’t there with her.

There was a soft thud at the door, breaking her from her thoughts, and a man's voice called, "I'm going to the store, do you want anything?"

She didn’t reply him, instead, she kept quiet, hugging her legs to her chest. She drops her head to her knees, her hand still clutching the phone tightly. Baekhyun sighed loudly behind the door, and knocked twice before entering, “I’m coming in.” He loudly announced.

His hair still wet, he donned his clothes and shoes, and then turned to her, his eyes taking her position. He noticed the phone on her hand, and how she didn’t lift up her head when he entered the room.

“Was it Sehun?” he asked ominously. He’s not quite as distant as he was in the beginning, but he still stands nearly a foot away. 

Hesitating for a moment, she lifted up her head to see Baekhyun, her face frail and weak, “What is going on?” she asked, unable to ignore her curiosity on why she’s away from him. “I know something is wrong, so tell me. What’s happening?’

He was silent for a long moment. “Exactly what you think it is,” he said as a matter of factly. “Were you expecting something different?”

It was Haru’s turn to be silent as she slowly digested his words. What was she thinking in the first place?

Numerous assumptions came to her mind, and she desperately shook all of them off. His expression shifted as he glanced at her, concern peeking out through his eyes. “I told you and him all along. This is not going to end well.”

He saw her and her expression abruptly unreadable. All he could tell was that she was weighing something. And so he waited.

She scoffed out a bitter laugh, her heart felt the stabs of pain. “You're amazing. Everything you say have always been right. I was stupid enough not to understand it.” A small sad smile formed at her face, “But you can hurt someone by being right all the time,”

Whatever his expression was, he hid it well. It feels like forever he stands there, next to her. Then he scoots closer to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “There are some things people like Sehun can never get.” He began quietly. “Things people like you can do and get easily, are always out of reach for us.”

Haru looked at him, tears swelling in her eyes. Baekhyun tries to be careful not to blurt out comments that seem to have bypassed his conscious thought entirely. “Falling in love is one of them,” Haru frowns and looks past him, eyes unfocused. Baekhyun can guess a little of what she's thinking, but Haru has an ocean of a mind, and there are depths that maybe no one can ever follow her into. Surfacing, she asks, "Why not?"

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said; “There's a reason why rich kids are often play boys,” he smiled slyly, his fingers have settled themselves on the bed. It feels warm, and confusing, but it doesn't feel strange. “We can never be with the girl we like. No matter how much we want, that’s just not the way it ends.”

There it is. The moment when the truth begins. The answer that has all the other answers, and all the other questions, layered inside it like a Russian doll. An infinity of tiny fragile questions that Baekhyun could crush if he wanted to, because it turns out that they're about him and not about Haru at all. Questions nesting endlessly deeper, turning the world inside out, making a hole that she might fall into and never escape.

“You're not helping.”

Baekhyun shrugs and nods at her, “What did you expect?”he asked,  rubbing the back of his neck, “Do you want me to lie because it’ll sound better?”He says sarcastically and he noticed a tear dropped from her eyes. Sighing in defeat, he speaks slowly. “The things you see in movies, and read in books, about the rich guy leaving everything behind for the girl he loves,” he smiled shortly, “Doesn't happen in real life. We cannot give up out lives for love. We were born to money, we'll marry for money.”

Haru fixed her eyes in him, absorbing every word. She started thinking about Sehun again, and soon became lost in her thoughts.

“Sehun will do the same,” Baekhyun said, his voice hinted an unreadable expression, “It is just a matter of time. So enjoy while it last,” Baekhyun's smile finally looks genuine, or at least half genuine.

“How can I enjoy anything if nothings going to last?”

“We live knowing we going to die anyways.”

She looked at him, her conflicting emotions tearing her apart. Haru never had to guess what was on his mind, because Baekhyun offered his opinion freely without regard to societal niceties. He had zero s to give, and it was a refreshing, yet jarring, and Haru finds it unbelievable to have him comforting to her at this time.

He noticed her looking aimlessly at him, and he sighed softly, “I don’t really have a thing for you. But Sehun looks very happy being with you. The feelings won't last, so as long as it does, you be happy too.”

His words only seemed to enrage Haru further. “What do you mean the feelings won’t last long?”

“Are you telling me that you're going to love him forever?” he chuckled, mocking at the notion. “Feelings don’t last long. People change. You’ll get bored of one another. You may say you love him know, but you won’t say the same after 5 years. It is what it is. There is no such thing as forever.”

This conversation is going downhill, fast. “Go on. Mock a girl who love to easily,” she said stiffly. “Just because you don’t believe it, it doesn't mean it' s not there. All you have to do is to look for it.”

It was now Baekhyun’s turn to look at her confusingly. He stared at her and she forged onwards, “Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked nonchalantly. He furrowed his brows, not quite getting her. “What?”

“People who argue about the existence of ghost, are the ones who'd never encounter them. They refuse to believe, because they've never seen them,”

He looked at her, finally getting what she meant. All the gravity of the moment has dissipated. Something sweet stays, though, even when he lets go. He hasn’t felt this light in years. He talks for what must be minutes, sitting on the bed with her. It seems like hours, anyway. They pass pleasantly that he didn’t even notice.

“Are you saying that I don’t believe in love because I haven’t seen it yet?”

Oddly enough, she'd gone enraged to completely calm. She was no longer had tears in her eyes, but instead her arms crossed, looking at him as though he was a particularly problematic exam question as she nods at him.

His instincts are telling him to break her, but his heart is telling him to let her be free. 

He mustered a smile, “That’s an interesting opinion.”