x.

With the summer concert a mere four weeks away, Chanyeol knew they only had a few more opportunities to practice before their performance. He arrived at the studio one Tuesday night, ready for their next class and looking forward to the one-on-one practice session that would come afterwards; instead he found Baekhyun sitting in his chair at the front of the room, his cane propped up between his knees.

“Hey,” Chanyeol said, smiling at him — his eyes landed on the cane, and the smile faded. “Are you okay? You look…um…”

Baekhyun looked up at Chanyeol, chewing on his lip. He looked pale and exhausted. “Like ..?” he said, finishing Chanyeol’s sentence for him, and he smiled wryly, but the brightness didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s okay, you can say it. I feel like it, anyway.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “That’s not what I was going to say; you look great. Maybe a bit tired, that’s all.”

Baekhyun laughed — a dry, humourless laugh. “Ground rules, Chanyeol,” he said flatly, “don't bull me, and I won't bull you.” But he seemed to perk up a little during the class itself, even if he was confined to the chair for its entirety. Chanyeol ended up partnering with Dara again; she seemed to be showing more interest in him the more they danced together, but as usual, Chanyeol barely noticed. He was never anything less than friendly to her, but his eyes were always on Baekhyun, looking over at him to make sure he was okay, smiling whenever he smiled.

After everyone else had left at the end of the class, Baekhyun called Chanyeol over to the front of the room. “I’m having a bad day today,” he said. “I’ve been feeling a bit off this whole week, so I already had a hunch that a relapse was coming… and then this morning, I woke up like this. So I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ll be doing much practicing until I’ve recovered. We’ll just have to cram at the last second to make up for it.”

Chanyeol just smiled and shook his head. “No need to explain yourself… I understand completely. Your health comes first.”

Baekhyun bit his lip again in silence, looking like he really wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Chanyeol gestured towards the studio door behind him and said, “I can go, if you'd rather be alone? Or if you need help getting home—”

“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over to my place instead.” Baekhyun began chewing his lip again as soon as the words left his mouth, and Chanyeol hesitated — did Baekhyun actually want him to come over, or was he just offering because he felt bad about cancelling their practice session? Then he saw the blush in Baekhyun’s cheeks, slowly deepening as he took more and more time to reply, and figured — maybe even hoped — that it was the former.

“You know where I live; it’s only a short walk down the road,” Baekhyun continued, when Chanyeol still had yet to speak. “There’s that little pizza joint on the ground floor. We can order pizza, watch a movie… maybe spend some time just being friends, for once.”

Chanyeol scratched the back of his neck while he considered the proposal. He was well past wanting to just be friends, and it didn't really sound like the kind of thing just-friends would do, but whatever. “Well, only if you really want me to.”

Baekhyun smiled; his eyes crinkled at the corners this time, which meant the smile was genuine, and Chanyeol relaxed a little when he saw it. “Of course I want you to. But it's okay if you don't want to. I can imagine you probably have better things to do.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “I want to,” he said quietly, returning Baekhyun’s smile.

“Alright. It’s settled then.” Leaning on the cane, Baekhyun slowly and painfully got to his feet, and began trudging towards the door. “Just gonna warn you now, I'll be a bit slower than usual today.”

“That's okay. Take your time.” Chanyeol held the door open for Baekhyun, waiting for him to go through it, and then closed it behind him on their way out.

“I don't know how you stay so slim, living that close to a pizza place… pizza is my ultimate weakness,” he said to Baekhyun while they were walking down the street together. Baekhyun took slow, slightly wobbly steps, and Chanyeol wondered if he was in pain. The expression on his face seemed to suggest that he was, and Chanyeol was seconds away from offering him a piggyback, but thought that perhaps this would come across as patronising.

“I’ve always been disciplined about stuff like that,” Baekhyun said. “I got used to denying myself so I could keep my abs, but then I thought, it.” Although still walking very slowly, he seemed in better spirits now, and Chanyeol wasn’t in a hurry anyway. “Anyway, once in a while won't hurt… life is for living, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, “of course it is.”

‘A bit slower than usual’ turned out to be an understatement — Chanyeol considered himself a fairly patient person, but Baekhyun’s slowness eventually became so exhausting to watch that, for a moment here and there, it made him desperately want to go to sleep. After what felt like an age, they reached the facade of Baekhyun’s apartment block, an ugly grey building next to the union bank. They ordered pizza at the little pizzeria on the ground floor, and Chanyeol pulled out his wallet to pay — until Baekhyun took out his own wallet, and used it to playfully beat him into submission. The young, bemused-looking guy working at the counter told them someone would bring their pizza up to them when it was ready.

“Yikes. Someone doesn’t like their job,” Chanyeol whispered to Baekhyun when they were leaving the restaurant. “What d'you reckon was up his bum..?”

“Dunno… a pepperoni, maybe,” Baekhyun deadpanned, without missing a beat, and Chanyeol’s hand shot up to his mouth to keep an obnoxious guffaw from escaping. Baekhyun looked up at him in expressionless silence, and something about being under the scrutiny of his stare made Chanyeol’s face start to feel warm. Perhaps he should have turned it into a cough, he thought, but it was too late for that now.

“Why do you always stop yourself from laughing?” Baekhyun said at last; he didn’t sound critical in any way, but merely curious. Chanyeol stood there with his hand still over his mouth, unsure of what to say. Eventually he let the hand fall down by his side and said, “sometimes laughing too hard triggers a collapse, so… trying to hold it in has become a habit, I suppose.”

Baekhyun pondered this for a moment in silence. “I understand. But your laugh is lovely, and I wish you didn’t have to hide it.” That was all he said, but the look they gave each other afterwards felt like one of the more meaningful ones they’d shared so far. When they walked inside the apartment building together, Chanyeol was about to push the up button for the lift when he noticed the sign taped over the steel doors, scrawled in black marker on a crinkled piece of A4 paper — ‘OUT OF ODER’.

“Well, ,” he said, “that’s unfortunate, isn’t it..?”

Baekhyun let out a little sigh behind him. “I know… it’s been out of bloody ‘oder’ for nearly a week. I heard someone’s coming to service it tomorrow.” He walked slowly past the lift, gesturing towards a door at the end of the corridor. “The stairwell’s just over here. I’m only on the first floor, anyway.”

Watching Baekhyun struggle up the stairs with only the aid of his cane and the handrail made Chanyeol's throat feel oddly tight. “Are you sure you’re alright?" he asked, several times over; he made sure to keep close behind Baekhyun with his arms out, ready to catch him in case he stumbled backwards or something.

“I'm fine,” Baekhyun said, although he sounded exhausted. “I’ll get there. It’s hardly Everest, is it..?”

Chanyeol knew better than to believe this, since it was the kind of brave-faced excuse he would make himself. “Can I help in any way?”

“Not really. Not unless you want to carry me up.” Baekhyun laughed, but it wasn't a real laugh; just a polite, wheezy little thing — a mood lightener. It sounded flat anyway, and Chanyeol didn't have it in him to reciprocate, because nothing about the situation was particularly funny. Baekhyun just continued to walk up the stairs in slow, painful silence, his legs so stiff-looking that it was a wonder he was able to bend them. Chanyeol noticed that he was stomping on each step really hard, too hard for it to be accidental.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked. “Stomping your feet so hard, I mean.”

“Because I can't feel my feet properly,” Baekhyun said. “And I don’t want to accidentally miss a step and fall flat on my beautiful face, do I?”

That was enough, Chanyeol thought. That was the last straw.

Before either of them had much time to think about it, he came up behind Baekhyun and scooped him up in his arms. Baekhyun immediately yelled out in protest, almost dropping his cane on the floor, but Chanyeol just shushed him — until Baekhyun nearly knocked him out with the cane, which swung around wildly in his grasp.

“Please,” Chanyeol said, “I want to help. Just… try not to beat me up over it, okay?” He soon began to have second thoughts. “God, you're heavy... I didn’t really think this through, did I?”

Baekhyun just laughed at him. “Of course I'm heavy… I’m a grown man. What the hell were you expecting?”

“Not sure… but it’s all good. Still plenty of ammo left in these guns,” Chanyeol said, even though he was already sweating beneath the weight of his cargo. Baekhyun was certainly more solid than he looked; Chanyeol figured it was his dancer’s body, all that muscle. “Alright, then — up we go!”

“You know, this really isn't necessary.” Baekhyun sounded a little nervous now. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust you. But what if you drop me accidentally..?”

Chanyeol knew what he meant. “Don’t worry, it’s only one flight of stairs. And if I start to feel the slightest bit fatigued, I’ll put you down, I promise.”

Baekhyun didn’t seem too convinced, but he didn’t argue. “Okay. Well… thanks, I guess.”

“You're very welcome,” Chanyeol said, trying to hide the strain in his voice, but somehow he couldn't help grinning anyway. “Nothing wrong with needing a bit of help. Even the most able-bodied among us need assistance from time to time; it’s perfectly fine.” He was getting seriously puffed out, but now the first floor was in sight.

Baekhyun laughed. “Thanks, Mr. Eternal Optimist… you’re lucky I don’t live any higher. That’s my place at the top there, facing the stairs — unit number 11.”

Chanyeol paused when they got to the top of the stairs, with Baekhyun still in his arms. His arm muscles were beginning to shake with the effort. “Cool. So how do we open the door?”

“Well, this is just a thought,” Baekhyun said, “but you could put me down first, and then maybe I could do it.”

“Right. Of course.” Chanyeol gently lowered Baekhyun to the floor; with that secret little smile on his face, Baekhyun averted his eyes and pulled out a set of keys on a silver ring. He unlocked the front door of his apartment, pushed it open and flicked a switch next to the doorframe, flooding the room with warm yellow light. The apartment was small — maybe even smaller than Chanyeol’s, at first glance — but it was neat and smelled pleasant, like scented candles. Chanyeol looked around the room they’d entered, which appeared to be the living room, taking in his surroundings with interest. The apartment was open-plan, the living room flowing into a neat little kitchen. There were lots of indoor plants — ferns and succulents in colourful ceramic pots — and a glass cabinet stuffed full of dancing awards, a sizeable collection of trophies, plaques, medals and ribbons. A small flat-screen television and a comfortably worn sofa covered in soft-looking brown leather, a grey loop-knit rug on the floor, and a low coffee table with a couple of hardcover photography books on top of it. Chanyeol noticed a black wheelchair with chrome wheels, standing against the wall in the corner, unfolded as though it had been recently used.

Chanyeol whistled to show his appreciation. “Nice place…”

“Thanks. Go and make yourself comfortable,” Baekhyun said. “I’ll get us something to drink. What would you—”

“I’ll do it,” Chanyeol said quickly, interrupting him. He grabbed Baekhyun by the shoulders and began steering him towards the sofa. “You should sit down and rest.”

Baekhyun sounded like he was about to argue, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. “Well, alright… you’ll find some stuff in the fridge. I’ve got Coke, juice, water, whatever you like. Just help yourself.”

While Baekhyun collapsed gratefully onto the sofa, Chanyeol walked over to the kitchen. “What can I get for you?” Baekhyun’s refrigerator was decorated with photos taken from some of his dancing competitions, held up with magnets in the shape of cartoon dancers and plastic fruit with smiley faces — happy little pineapples and bananas and stuff like that. Chanyeol stood there smiling goofily at the photos for a moment, and then stopped when it occurred to him that he could probably be seen from where Baekhyun was sitting.

“A beer would be good,” Baekhyun said. “I think I could use a drink or two, after the day I’ve had.”

“Coming right up.” Chanyeol opened the refrigerator door to check its contents. It was mostly full of healthy things, fruit and vegetables and the like, but on the bottom shelf were rows and rows of medication — little plastic bottles with weird unpronounceable names on their labels, and scary-looking needles filled with mysterious fluids. Chanyeol stared at them all, rooted to the spot in morbid fascination; somehow he felt deeply guilty at the same time, as though this was something personal that he probably shouldn’t have seen. He snapped out of it and grabbed two cans — an Asahi for Baekhyun and a Coke Zero for himself — closed the fridge door and wandered back over to the living room.

“Are you alright?” Baekhyun asked, frowning at him. “You look a bit funny.”

Chanyeol shook his head and handed Baekhyun the beer. “I’m fine… you just relax, okay? Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun went to open his beer, but kept struggling with the ring pull, trying repeatedly to lift it up and failing each time. Swearing under his breath, he sighed and handed it back to Chanyeol, looking a little embarrassed. “Do you mind..?”

Chanyeol opened the can and handed it back to Baekhyun without a word, offering him an understanding smile. They sat next to each other with their drinks for a while, sipping quietly without speaking. Chanyeol stood up from his seat, walking over to the glass cabinet full of dancing awards to have a closer look. There were several framed photographs, including one of a much younger Baekhyun, dancing with a beautiful girl in a sparkling red dress that matched the colour of his satin shirt.

“Hey, is this a photo of you?” he asked, pointing at the frame.

“Uh-huh. From when I was 15.” Baekhyun tilted the beer can to his lips and took a long swallow, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “We came first place in the junior championship that year. And the following year, as well.”

“Naww. Look how cute you were… you look so young.” Chanyeol turned to look at Baekhyun, comparing him to the boy in the photo. Baekhyun just smiled his beautiful secret smile at him, saying nothing, and Chanyeol was about to speak when there was a loud knock at the front door. “Ah, pizza’s here.”

“Thank God,” Baekhyun said, pretending to faint away with hunger. “I’m staaaaarving.” Chanyeol gave him a little dig in the ribs on his way past to get to the door, making him squeal with laughter.

“Do you think maybe I could see one of your competition videos, if you have any?” he asked a little later, when they sat next to each other on the sofa, two steaming pizza boxes open on the coffee table in front of them. “Only if you don’t mind, of course.”

Baekhyun looked over at Chanyeol in surprise, pausing mid-bite with a string of mozzarella connected to his mouth (so cute, Chanyeol thought, his insides clenching at the sight). He swallowed and said, “sure.” Then he pointed over at the shelf next to the TV, filled with books and DVDs. “There’s one on that shelf with ‘junior championship 2004’ written on the case in black marker. It’s pretty old, but it’s probably my favourite performance video.”

Chanyeol found the case he was looking for, put the disc into the DVD player and pressed the play button. The first thing he saw was a floor full of people dancing, a swirl of colour and movement, and it took a while for him to spot Baekhyun and his partner — they were wearing the same outfits as the ones in the photo, and Chanyeol realised it was from the same competition. They were surrounded by a number of other couples: all young men and women of a similar age, dancing some kind of Latin style, although Chanyeol was hardly an expert on the subject.

“That was the Samba,” Baekhyun said, pausing the video with the remote when the dance was over. “In a competition, you have to perform a number of dance styles in different rounds. In the Latin variant, it’s Samba, Cha-cha-cha, Rumba, Paso Doble and Jive; then the five Standard dances are the Waltz, Tango, Viennese Waltz, Foxtrot and Quickstep. It’s a wonderful experience, but it’s quite gruelling… definitely not for the faint of heart.” He let out a wistful little sigh. “But there are times when I miss it so much, the adrenaline and excitement, the sheer thrill of it. All those people in the audience cheering for you… sorry, now I’m getting all nostalgic on your arse.”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol said, smiling. For the entire performance, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off the young couple in red, whenever they were on the screen. “Wow. You were really good, though. I can see why you both won.”

“I know.” Baekhyun's voice was so quiet that Chanyeol hardly heard him.

“You still are really good, you know,” Chanyeol said. “I know you