Baekhyun was never out of the spotlight, even as a kid. His parents forced him into the music business, after all.

It never became better. Even with his chin hanging low, it was forced up. He was treated like a robot, forced to do tasks with a small break or two for recharging. 

His fingers had creaked, long and thin from playing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to truly enjoy the feeling, his fingers stretching between keys with surprising ease and grace. However, forever they hurt, perhaps because of the sheer amount of practice he did. 

 He was ecstatic to get away from his controlling parents.

They wanted to force him to the top, even with the various colors that could far succeed him. But in the mixing pot, anything was possible.

 

~~

“Bro hurry up, you gotta get into that room and change into your stage clothes,” his friend, Jongdae exclaimed, as if Baekhyun had never done it before. 

“, I know,” Baekhyun stopped suddenly, nearly getting left behind by Jongdae. 

“Hurry!” Jongdae yelled like a pestering parent.

Baekhyun slipped his slim ten year-old body through the double doors, swing both doors behind them as if making a grand entrance. He hears Jongdae trying to stifle an embarrassed giggle from behind him, but ignored it. 

His face was layered with crafty stage makeup. It felt cheap on his face, but his parents decided it would fit with his performance. He was already called out on possibly being homoual because of it, but he assumed it was because of his parents’ newfound obsession with the Korean music industry and its use of flashy colors.

It almost fit in with the other performances. Especially with the dancers of multiple different natures, from graceful pirouettés to almost unnatural back-bends, and even to impressive b-boying, it was a sight to see. The busied space was filled with a cacophony of sounds, even ranging from loud shouts to the nearing shrill noises of a violin played in its fifth position to melodic flutes and low, muffled bass saxophones mixed with the sounds of sousaphones and many other brass instruments. 

“You're welcome,” Jongdae said from behind Baekhyun. The latter startled, nearly falling flat on his face.

“Wha—?” Baekhyun’s voice trailed off in confusion, forehead wrinkled in confusion. 

He winked as he handed Baekhyun a small booklet. Staves filled the pages, empty yet filled with infinite possibilities.

Jongdae wanted him to write his own songs.

 

That was when he genuinely wished to be a performer.

 

~~

 

His cell phone rung from the corner of his bedside table, bright screen lighting up his dark room. He made no effort to check it

though, having barely gotten up at all. 

He was apathetic to say the least.

Another buzz rattled the phone softly against the smooth wooden surface of the bedside table.

Baekhyun sighed, sitting up slowly. He ran his hands over his face, arms resting on his legs as he slowly stood up. 

At age seventeen, he was approaching adulthood and found one of his first glimpses of depression. 

 

~~

 

“Trust me, Chen. I'm not going M.I.A. again. I was just busy,” Baekhyun says, a thin smile pasted onto his face. 

“I'm not saying I don't trust you. It's just that… I have that suspicion that you aren't telling me everything. I'm not only your manager, I'm your friend,” the other male’s voice held no malice, yet it felt deprecating.

“I know, like I understand your concerns but I'm not going to ing die within the matter of a second or whatever.”

“People messaged me to ask where you've been,” Jongdae chastised, his calm voice melting to reveal his true thoughts.

“I'm working on some and I'm still working on it now.”

“What, Baekhyun? I've been waiting for nearly three months now. Make something up. You aren't going to be famous forever.”

“That's the ing point!” Baekhyun shouted, voice exasperated, “I'm just a childhood star. I'm not going to last forever. Even with talent, I'm only going to be a childhood star for so long ‘til I blend in with the crowd!”

“Then make a living before everything disappears,” Jongdae spoke like an inspiring ad or something of that sort telling him to take his chances before the disappear. 

“I can't if it's all I think of. I can't find inspiration if everything that comes to my mind is that I'm ing nothing. Chen. Don't you understand?” Baekhyun sighed.

“I… I do, but— just come out, okay?” Chen’s voice was once again soft.

Something changed in their dynamics. One second they'd be yelling at each other and yet, the other would end up apologizing profusely after it. 

 

Perhaps at age sixteen, Baekhyun returned to Korea.

Baekhyun was the slightest bit perturbed at how far people went with plastic surgery. He brushed off any remarks for him to fix his appearance. 

And overall, it was fine. 

The first few months, Baekhyun continued his performances with guerilla concerts, even if it were just him singing alone. He began transferring his music over to places like SoundCloud or something of that sort. While his expectations weren't high,  they were crushed when he saw that people were fans of his singing. 

Eventually, Baekhyun had receded into his own room, his parents just leaving him with his relatives in the area. 

The first year of his hiatus was excruciating. His phone lit up with notifications asking where he was after the three month point. He ignored it, still not bothering to put it on silent. Eventually, the deluges of concern washed away and he was left with a ding sound every couple of minutes

People believed he'd just gone on hiatus, but the more he stayed in, people noticed the hiatus had been going on for too long. People had begun to swarm him with questions to ask what was wrong and yet Baekhyun still couldn't respond. 

His dreams died years ago so he figured he should die the same way they did, like the shattering of glass.

~~

Baekhyun still waited to get out, mind wandering every time he sat back down at his laptop. The white light of his screen shone on his face, lethargic as he attempted to find inspiration. Even if he didn't like his career choice, he still needed to thrive.

He only got up to eat, though eating barely anything. He felt sick just thinking of his failures. Even if he were talented at both playing the piano and singing, he couldn't help but to be envious of the people who could do either of his own skills. 

He was well into his twenties and yet millions of people years younger than him were far better than him. He wanted to get off the internet, yet he kept watching talented and prodigious people. 

His body felt heavy, lethargic, even. His phone rang in short bursts, but a hollowness in Baekhyun’s head prevented him from hearing it ever end.

 

“Hi, this is Chen, or Kim Jongdae. If you must, please call back later.”

The line fell dead. A sharp beep and then silence. 

Baekhyun was used to not picking the phone up every time he got a call, but the one moment he wanted to contact Jongdae, he didn't answer. 

 

Baekhyun panicked when he'd gotten to his bathroom. His head felt heavy, legs turning soft as he braced himself on his bathroom sink. His face was extremely wan in pallor. He looked empty, the light no longer in his eyes serving as a grim reminder of his current state.

He walked out slowly, almost agonizingly so. He'd arrived to the end of his hallway, finding another similar reflection of himself, weak and tired. His hands twitched at his sides before he raised a fist, bracing himself to the wall next to the mirror, he hit the mirror.

Pieces of the reflective material fell to the ground, shattering like a vase being knocked to the ground. A sound of creaking sounded through the house, overpowering the sound of the whirring air conditioning. 

Without even realizing, Baekhyun's hand was bleeding, the sanguine fluid running down his knuckles. 

He backed away from his now broken mirror, eyes wide as if he weren't conscious when breaking the mirror. 

He gulped, bile rising up his throat. The sour substance already leaving its traces at the back of his throat. His mouth opened to shout until his throat was raw, but the shout never came. 

Baekhyun ripped his bathroom’s cupboard open, hands shaking as he reached for a gauze. He practically shoved the roll onto his hand as if it would've stayed and stopped the bleeding. 

 

Minutes after the incident and Baekhyun could barely function as a normal human being. 

He picked his phone up, the glassy material of the screen felt cold in his warm hands, and ran away from his apartment complex.

 

His phone actually buzzed in his hand as he walked. Baekhyun, now a bit calmer, turned his phone on after letting it sit for a while in his hand.

Jongdae had actually called back. Baekhyun still didn't know what to do about it though. With a lack of human communication, having not actually talked to anyone in a few months, Baekhyun really couldn't call back. 

“Y’know, you're supposed to pick up when someone calls you, right?” A warm, low voice broke through the cold air. 

Baekhyun looked up, a cold breath of wind blowing on his exposed skin. With a quick glimpse at the other male’s warm attire, Baekhyun reminded himself that he'd ran out of his apartment with the thinnest t-shirt in his closet and a pair of ill-fitting ripped jeans that exposed the entirety of his knees. The other man was obviously tall, with legs that seemed to stretch on to infinity. The way he sat seemed comfortable yet polite, as if he were trained to sit with people for days on end. Yet, he seemed to exude a professional aura, his sharp eyes filled with youth and passion. 

“I-I know,” Baekhyun stuttered, voice barely louder than the seemingly ceaseless wind.

The other male stayed silent, slightly curly fair flowing into his face. He stood up, shoes crunching on the dried leaves. Baekhyun was surprised he hadn't noticed the male walk up. 

“Why are you here?” His low voice sounded as deep as the Grand Canyon. 

“I— it was… I…,” Baekhyun clicked his tongue, clearing his throat, “It's difficult to answer.”

“You don't know why you're out here?” The male asked, voice an almost patronizing tone. 

“No, it's just… I wanted to get out… I-I don't know, okay?” Baekhyun’s face flushed as he turned his head to his barely covered knees.

“I didn't— no, I… . I didn't mean it in any like bad way, okay?” Baekhyun smiled when he'd heard Chanyeol stutter like a doofus. It was nice to meet someone who was just as bad at this as he was. 

Baekhyun hesitated, questioning if he should bring his career up. Ultimately deciding not to, he was still curious about the other male. 

“What's… what's your name?” Baekhyun asked.

The taller male hesitated, shaking his head as if to say it and introduced himself, “Chanyeol. You?”

Again, Baekhyun hesitated, “Baekhyun.”

“, no wonder you looked familiar. You're that pianist and singer, right?” Chanyeol asked, voice filled with wonder.

“That… that would be correct.”

“My sister’s a huge fan. She was so ing heartbroken when she found out about your disappearance. I'm surprised I bumped into you,” Chanyeol said, tone blasé. He cleared his throat, “Sorry. Anyway, what happened to your hand?”

Baekhyun panicked, fabricating a lie, “I dropped a plate and accidentally cut my hand.”

“Okay, sure,” Chanyeol said, his voice disbelieving. He didn't pester any further. He stood up shortly, though his arm was still settled over the backrest of the bench. He placed a calloused hand on his chin as if to think, “So you're an idol?”

Baekhyun stifled a wince as a cough, “No. Not quite. Look at this face and you can already tell,” Baekhyun internally cringed, but figured that he was already digging a grave that was big enough to fit the bodies of every dead person in the world, “No, but yeah. I'm not part of some big entertainment company where everything is directed towards the vapidness of the frail hearts of teenage girls. I'd like to say I'm what the millennials call ‘edgy’.”

“Damn, edgy, now? Sure,” Chanyeol muttered.

“But don't get me ing wrong. I'm just some indie artist who somehow made a name for myself. I'm just a nobody who put themselves out there,” Even without feedback from Chanyeol, Baekhyun could tell that the other wasn't getting half of what he was saying. Yet, he continued to expatiate, “I'm nothing compared to those idols out there.”

“Baekhyun. Why are you on hiatus?” Chanyeol’s harsh voice turned soft. 

Baekhyun almost immediately settled his head into his clasped hands, rubbing cumbrously at his forehead. He sighed, a migraine threatening to pound through his skull from the inside. He smacked his lips together, “Look. I've said too much. Forget you ever met me.”

Just as Baekhyun stood up, Chanyeol rose as well to reveal his true height.

Chanyeol had almost completely engulfed Baekhyun in one single step. His voice rumbled every part of Baekhyun, “Sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

“It's okay. I just have my own stupid little,” Baekhyun stopped himself, as if formulating a response, “problems.”

“Baekhyun. I'm no therapist, but I've studied enough psychology to understand what's going on,” Chanyeol rejoindered, his voice somewhat relaxed.

After years of rancorous arguments mixed with temper tantrums and farcical punishments just because of Baekhyun’s career in the fine arts department was a complete one-eighty as compared to Chanyeol’s kind but brusque manner of addressing or even speaking to him. 

“Baekhyun, ”

“I don't need it,” He spoke nearly inaudibly, “I don't need your pity.”

The soft reverberation broke Baekhyun from his stupor.

“Whoops, sorry. I gotta go,” Chanyeol slipped a small paper into Baekhyun’s frail fingers after scribbling something on the back of it. A business card graced with an elegant dark brown font on a light ivory color mixed with a slightly tanner shade of brown with the same hickory-like, umber-like color as the text. A phone number was present on the front, an email below it as if to indicate how professional of a business card it was. When Baekhyun flipped the card over, remembering Chanyeol writing something on the back of the card. He was greeted by a messy yet perfectly readable scripture wrote another phone number. 

~~

Baekhyun sat in his room, eyes wandering to the slip of card stock with a number attached to the back. He was behind his electric keyboard, mindlessly twirling around his his chair. His ideas were at an all-time low and he felt he should come back at some point.

He sighed, finding a piece he'd created when he first came into the spotlight. Approximately five years previous, his career had just begun and his first song was filled with his childish wonders and his dreams to make it big despite being under no well known company at all. 

The tempo was quick, but no faster than allegro. He cringed hearing his attempts at writing a beat for the music. While he was trained in music, his younger self wasn't the smartest in writing music.

The swivelly chair spun him around once more, stopping when his eyes found his small bookshelf. He took a quick glance at the business card and picked it up.

 

Baekhyun never left his room after his mirror incident and his encounter with Chanyeol. While he didn't overtly dislike it, the thing that was the most numbing and upsetting was that he didn't truly know how to deal with his emotions.

He liked to admit that his difficulties with emotions were due to his being a “celebrity.” He grew up under some kind of spotlight. 

~~

 

“Hey, Jongdae?” Baekhyun asked, his voice meek. 

“Baekhyun! What have you been doing?” Chen asked casually.

Even so, Baekhyun continued speaking, “No, Jongdae. I'm… I'm not trying to— I… — , sorry. What I wanted to say was… I don't think I'm cut out for this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I just don't think I can handle this anymore,” Baekhyun ran a hand through his black hair. 

“Y-you can't ju—”

“Jongdae, don't you understand?” Baekhyun bit on his bottom lip nervously.

“You can't just quit. It's not as simple as ‘Oh, this is too hard. I’m quitting,” the younger male cursed under his breath.

“It's not that it's ing hard. I don't think I can handle this.”

“Every other celebrity has their own struggles. Please try to think about it. You wanted this for yourself anyway,” Chen’s voice grew eerily calm, a pugnacious demeanor becoming ever present over the crackly, metallic quality of the phone. 

“I was thrown into this, Jongdae. I'm not meant for this , alright?”

Baekhyun hung up before Jongdae could respond. He sighed, his lungs constricting as the breath escaped his lungs. He went back to his room, rummaging through his things. 

 

“Hey?” Baekhyun’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Baekhyun could hear the taller male shuffle something around, “I can't recall your name, Baekho was it?”

“Not quite, it’s Baekhyun,” Baekhyun made a slight humming sound, “Are you… busy now?”

“Not at the moment, why?” 

“Can I come over?” Baekhyun asked, his voice shaking ever-so-slightly.

“Alright, I'll text you the address, unless you want me to pick you up?” Chanyeol asked.

“I'll find a way.”

Chanyeol had hung up for minutes and Baekhyun had never felt more alone. He'd regretted hanging up, wanting just that slight bit more of human contact. His steps were slow and calculated, yet his mind felt empty. With nothing but an address and his phone, Baekhyun walked down the streets that seemed so new to him. 

A light wind picked up every once in awhile, almost piercing his skin though his sweater. 

 

Baekhyun knocked on the door, a vertigo surrounding his vision for a split second. Despite the cold weather with the dry air around him, his breaths coming out in short huffs of white, he felt overheated. His shirt stuck to his skin, the cold becoming ever-present with the slight breeze blowing around him.

“Baekhyun, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon,” Chanyeol said, pulling a beanie over his slightly curled hair. He let out a low laugh, “I'm not the most prepared for this.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to get out the house.”

“It's fine. I don't personally ing care, so how ‘bout you come in?” His voice was a soft baritone, the raspy quality of his voice sending shivers down Baekhyun's spine.

They'd settled down surprisingly quickly. 

“So, why did you want to see me? After all, I may very well be an assassin or something like that,” Chanyeol started, his voice awkward in the silent house. 

“I wanted to get out,” Baekhyun replied in a far quieter voice, almost being whisked away by the still ever-present noise.

Baekhyun wasn't the worst at lying, but even he could tell that some form of desperation atop loneliness. He wanted to get out of his house because the silence was becoming too much that he felt he might go insane. 

He desperately wanted contact with other people, yet he didn't physically have the energy to get up. 

“And how did it make you feel?” Chanyeol asked, barely pulling off his satirical phrase without bursting into laughter.

Baekhyun let a ghost of a smile brush onto his face. A soft blush dusted his cheeks, “Not cool,” A feeling of butterflies in his stomach blossomed throughout his body when he found Chanyeol had begun laughing. Their odd interaction was questionable, yet felt like the funniest thing ever to Baekhyun. 

Chanyeol cleared his throat, laughter slowly fizzing out like a soda left in the sun. His eyes were crescent-like, while not completely an eye smile, his eyes crinkled into its own unique form of an eye smile, “I can already tell that we both have a terrible sense of humor.”

“Well, I guess you could say things are spiraling out of control,” Baekhyun begins, attempting to spin around on his chair only to realize he wasn't on his usual swivel chair, “Wait, ,” He says, turning around manually on the sofa he was sitting on. 

Chanyeol burst out laughing, his cries in amusement met Baekhyun with a soft slap while he put his head in his hand, “I ing love you.”

Baekhyun hadn't heard a phrase like that in years. He forced out a laugh, his slightly raspy voice eliciting a nearly strangled noise from his throat. He clapped his hands over his mouth. Despite it being somewhat sarcastic, Baekhyun’s heart hurt at the phrase.

“What’s wrong?” Chanyeol asked after a few moments of silence, noticing the shift between the two. 

Baekhyun choked out an apology, getting up. He ran heavily on the hardwood floors, his heavy breathing the only other noise in the room. 

 

Baekhyun ed up and he knew it. His brain kept making him repeat it to himself, as if he needed convincing of what he already knew. Despite the events that had had transpired last time, his body reacted as if in a fight-or-flight situation. 

Was it something I said? | Chanyeol

He find that he had gotten a text the next morning.

On the other end of the text was none other than the man Chanyeol himself. His text was short, yet the simple words holding so many more questions that just the one he had sent. The tall male didn't deserve it, yet Baekhyun turned his shoulder. He was scared. He was always scared of attachment, which was why he secluded himself from his parents.

He mumbled a quick curse to himself. After spending so much time captive in his apartment, he couldn't get enough of the outside world. It was his drug, yet he didn't have the energy to get it. 

No

Baekhyun responded, his long fingers flying across his keyboard as he typed in his desired word.

Well sorry anyway. | Chanyeol 
It's okay, I was surprised is all.

The young idol laughed to himself, reminding himself to call Jongdae back before the timer reaches zero once more. 

Can I come over again?

sorry, I'm a bit busy. You can still come over if you want. | Chanyeol

No, it's whatever. 

Is it an emergency? | Chanyeol

As in…?

Like a medical emergency or something like that. | Chanyeol

I dunno

Suddenly, there was no reply. It left Baekhyun on edge, his question going unanswered. He got up, getting ready for his day despite it being well past midday.

 

He sat down on his bed, ready for a quick nap despite him having 

He remembered his obligations seconds later, his phone already dialing Jongdae's number.

“Hey, Baekhyun?” Baekhyun was relieved Chen had answered.

“I'm sorry about the… last time I called. I was on edge and I needed to let out some steam.”

Jongdae could be heard sighing, practically projecting that he was rubbing his face in exhaustion, “It's fine. I was on edge too. But Baekhyun, now isn't a good time.”

“Why not?” Baekhyun asked, making a mental note as to how tired his manager sounded.

“Do you know how many people are going crazy over your sudden reappearance?” Jongdae’s voice faded out, his usual hostility gone.

Baekhyun stayed silent, forgetting his ever-lasting spotlight. 

“I want to help you avoid controversy. No, I want to help you,” Chen sighed.

“I'm sorry,” Baekhyun mumbled after a pregnant silence. He was being selfish.

Selfish.

He repeated the word in his mind, telling him of what was wrong with himself.

Selfish. It felt bitter on his tongue, like acid burning his tongue.

“I'm glad to have met you. I truly am, and I'm sorry,” Jongdae took in a shuddering breath, “I wouldn't change how we met, but I want to change how our friendship went down. I was stressed everything like your parents. They kept telling me that I should do better for you. They said you needed this, even if I know you don't. I'm sorry and now that the cat's outta the barrel, I love you. And I'm a for not telling you sooner.”

Baekhyun flushed, his entire body feeling overheated, light headed as he had been when Chanyeol confessed the same thing. He panicked once more, his breathing becoming sporadic. 

Jongdae had hung up. Jongdae’s sudden confession was like being hit by a truck. Fast, sudden, yet not without a warning. 

Hey, sorry for not replying. | Chanyeol

One of my coworkers caught me playing on my phone instead of working.

I had to wrestle them for it.

Didn't really make a difference anyway.

I wasn't getting any clients.

 

Haha, don't sweat it. 

Baekhyun stared at his phone for a moment, an all too familiar text box with a series of ellipsis popped up on his screen only to disappear the next. 

Something happened anyway.

Like what? | Chanyeol

It's fine, it was nothing. 

Okay then. | Chanyeol

So can I come over?

If you don't mind waiting outside for a bit | Chanyeol

Thanks.

 

Baekhyun couldn't tell why, hut he had the slightest crush on Chanyeol, yet he felt just as strongly about his childhood friend. He blamed it on his previous isolation.

 

Baekhyun was at Chanyeol’s place before he could even count to five. Of course, as the tall male had said, Chanyeol wasn't there yet which forced Baekhyun to sit at the former’s door and wait. 

 

“Hey, sorry it took so ing long. I had a ton of stuff to do,” A soft, low voice startled Baekhyun, who had begun to fall asleep by the front door.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s interaction followed a similar ritual as the last time Baekhyun went to Chanyeol’s house, though much more casual, yet still holding that similar level of tension. 

“So, what did you want to come over for?” Chanyeol asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

“I wanted to apologize for what I did last time I came over. ”

“And your getup?” Chanyeol asked, referencing to the suddenly obviously unnaturally colored wig, large framed sunglasses and loose, baggy clothing.

“Oh that,” Baekhyun acted as if he'd forgotten, “I was caught last time I went out to see you so this is my disguise.

“Do you… want to take it off?”

“I'm good,” Baekhyun replied nonchalantly.

“Alright,” Chanyeol said, pushing their conversation into a corner. He coughed, clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat, “What do you wanna do?”

“Eh, I dunno.”

“Okay?” Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking on the big floppy hat on Baekhyun's head, “why do you want to be here? This certainly ain't the cosiest place in town after all.”

He sighed, looking at his sneakers, “Fine, I have to tell the truth, don't I?” Chanyeol nodded, “Fine, Blah, blah, blah. Some happened, my best friend confessed, I got lonely, and now here I am.”

“Wait, you don't like your friend? In, like, that way?” Chanyeol’s composure began to slowly slip, his slightly tense jaw forcing words out had become more and more obvious. He didn't know why he felt as if he were in love, especially since he believed love at first sight was stupid. 

“I… I don't know. And I'm terrified to consider it anyway.”

~~

Baekhyun missed Chen, especially after his last encounter with him over telephone. 

Of course, it wasn't like he hadn't just talked to his old friend, but he was still lonely even with Chanyeol to help support him. 

He didn't want to forgive Jongdae for his sudden admission of being purposefully rude and harsh on him, but he admitted he would've wanted to give the younger male a break. He still admitted he was being harsh for no reason, but otherwise, he told himself that what’s done was done. 

He didn't understand why he wanted to welcome Jongdae back with open arms, perhaps due to his inability to make new friends that he could keep, though Chanyeol was obviously its exception. 

 

 

“Am I just that bad at keeping friends?” Baekhyun asked Chanyeol, his voice strangely soft.

“Perhaps you're just meeting the wrong people at the wrong time?” Chanyeol asked a question as a response. 

“Don't be so insightful. I just want help.”

“Okay…?” Chanyeol snickered.

“Don't be so patronizing,” Baekhyun huffed out, a playful grin on his face. He tackled Chanyeol, his face flushing slightly as he fell on top of the tall male. 

“Wow, I didn't know you felt this way about me,” Chanyeol joked, placing his hand behind Baekhyun’s head, bringing him closer. Their lips almost touched before Baekhyun jerked his head away.

 

Of course Baekhyun was extremely embarrassed about what he had done, but he decided not to focus on it. He had other matters to attend to anyway, his comeback had to be soon, before he died at least, though his text to Jongdae was still left unanswered. 

He felt the least bit perturbed by possibly passing in the near future.

Hey, since you didn't respond to the last one, I wanted to show you something. 

—Audio clip attached—

Read 4:15 a.m.
~~

Baekhyun stared at his phone for what felt like an eternity, probably because it was. Of course, he knew Jongdae didn't die, or at least it wasn't brought to his knowledge. 

He was ready for something new. While he wasn't exactly an “idol” per se, he still wanted to look good. He was ready, hair freshly dyed, song prepared. Yet his small company seemed to hesitate, especially seeing as his manager had gone M.I.A. on all of them. 

He didn't understand why he couldn't go alone. He was a legal adult and was fully capable of driving, the only issue was that he was still an artist who had orders to attend to that he himself couldn't keep track of, but it was something his manager could. 

Hey, hey.

I know your somewhere out there.

Within seconds, Baekhyun could see a bubble pop up, the ellipsis indicating that Jongdae was actually responding. 

*you’re | Chen

Chen-chen! I knew you still cared about me. 

Shut up. | Chen

I liked your song.

If this wasn't through text, I might kiss you.

Saranghaeyo

Baekhyun laughed at his own stupidity in his texts. He internally cringed at his use of romanized Korean.

Whoops, sorry. 

No, it’s fine.| Chen
I need to talk to you. In person.

OOh! So straightforward!

Baekhyun found it oddly funny, especially with the ellipsis filled text box flash back on and off his screen. 

Okay, where?

I'll send you the address. | Chen

 

Baekhyun nearly leapt out of excitement when he saw Jongdae perched calmly at a high table near the corner of the café. 

Yet despite his initial excitement, he was terrified, as if he might've actually died before walking through that door. He huffed in a breath, a choked whimper escaping his throat despite him inhaling. Hesitation was his downfall. And he fell deep, into a pool of his personal issues. His hesitation held the hand of his excitement and he walked forward.

“Hey, Jongdae. I missed you,” Baekhyun smile softly.

Jongdae was quiet, he turned his head to Baekhyun, a small ghost of what seemed like a smile in his face. A slight glimmer on his pale pink cheeks became evident for a split second before Jongdae latched himself onto Baekhyun. 

“I'm sorry, Baekhyun,” Jongdae’s voice cracked, his voice already incredibly shaky.

“I am too, I am too,” Baekhyun hesitated before hugging back, but ended up giving in anyway. 

 

Their meeting went better than expected, and a path to Baekhyun's comeback was straight sailing from there, even if there was a slight sense of between them. 

 

“Yeol..? Is it bad to like, like someone? Like more than one person...” Baekhyun asked the tall male. Baekhyun had grown closer to the taller male, and his crush while still going strong, had begun to fade slightly.

“Well I can only say so much before I start butting into your personal business,” Chanyeol inhaled slowly and shakily, as if to indicate his suddenly cautious demeanor, “I wouldn't recommend immediately diving into one relationship to test the waters while also testing the same with the other person, that’s just polygamy.”

Baekhyun smiled softly, a small laugh escaping his lips, “Very funny, Yeol.”

“Well you were the one who asked me,” Chanyeol chuckled this time, his low laugh nearly rumbling the air around the, “So what I was trying to say is that you should just wait and see who you'd rather have come up to you and just attack you.”

“Nice to note, thanks.”

 

The more information Baekhyun got, the more confused he was. He liked Jongdae as a friend and even more, yet a bloom of heat burned brightly in his chest every time Chanyeol spoke. His emotions were like that of a birthing flame, unstable yet having the potential to burn everything, including him, to the ground. 

And as Chanyeol spoke, Baekhyun became more and more confused.. 

 

However, the more Baekhyun waited, counting down the days until his comeback, he grew wearier and more impatient. He wasn't a patient person to begin with, and with the combination of his boredom plus his still present hope swelling within him like a chemical reaction spewing gases, the gaseous material wanting to escape after having been sealed.

 

~~

 

His voice nearly gave out, for what felt like the hundredth time as he recorded his song. 

“Agai—” Jongdae paused, his body froze with his voice. He cleared his throat, a stilted smile on his face, “Sorry, a force of habit. Anyway, how's about we take a break?”

Baekhyun slipped the headphone from his neck onto the rack, a soft smile ghosting his puppy-like face. 

“Hey, I'm sorry again.”

“Don't be sorry,” Baekhyun's countenance strained, as if fighting the urge to grimace.

They stayed silent, a nearly unsettling ambience spreading through the air. 

Jongdae scooted closer to Baekhyun, his movements careful. His arms almost asked Baekhyun for something close to that of a kiss. Baekhyun's movements were equally as cautious, their movements resembling that of a predator and prey. And yet, Baekhyun gave in, his movements falling into sync with Jongdae. 

A small hug, then an advance. Their lips met, glorious and somewhat magical. Baekhyun wasn't new to kissing, though the idea of sharing germs with someone wasn't too pleasing. Chanyeol was momentarily cast aside.

Another small advance later and neither of them seemed to be advancing, perhaps due to their similar body structures. Yet, the kiss was hungry and ravenous. At the bay of a kindering love was a small smoke signal, as if Baekhyun was sending his calls of help and Jongdae just happened to be on the other side to catch it. 

Baekhyun’s eyes opened, narrow and suddenly aware. His lips froze, still feeling Chen’s on top of his for a good two seconds before retracting. 

The tension built, and their eyes locked. Neither moved, as if they'd scare the other off. Baekhyun felt a headache gnaw at his temples, his eyes glazing over with his suddenly rapid breathing. 

He couldn't breathe. He wanted to push Jongdae further from him, yet his body didn't let him.

~~

“, I don't know what to do anymore!” Baekhyun’s voice was shrill as he paced around. 

“Do you really like him?” Chanyeol interjected calmly. 

“That's what I don't know!” Baekhyun’s voice stayed at a fortissimo, anxiety still evident in his voice. 

Chanyeol breathed out, though not in exasperation, “Is that really what you feel?”

“I've known him for almost all my life. I don't know how exactly how he’ll feel about it.”

Baekhyun was frustrated, close to tears, even. The tall male stood suddenly, his flannel shirt slipping from his shoulder as he grabbed Baekhyun as well. He smiled softly, dragging Baekhyun with him as they went outside in the bitter air. 

“Here,” Chanyeol said as he handed Baekhyun a mask. 

Despite the nearly bitter cold, Baekhyun was happy. His bubble of self pity was expanding and suddenly, he didn't feel so lonely.  

They ended up far from Seoul. It felt it, at least. Baekhyun hadn't run in years, especially not to the degree that he and Chanyeol had just run. His mind was off his crushes and he relaxed. 

“Hey, Yeol?” Baekhyun tested as he sat beside Chanyeol, the cold grass sending shivers down his spine. They had already passed the dead of summer and shot past the always short fall season, yet it was just cold. It wasn't winter yet, the atmosphere kept the gloomy clouds that were uncanny to autumn, but it wasn't fall or winter. 

Baekhyun was beside Chanyeol, but his heart no longer raced as hard as he didn't with Chen, even after their run. Despite his suddenly heightened senses, he didn't seem to notice Chanyeol draw nearer, “I think I love Chen.”

Baekhyun felt Chanyeol slump against him. His warm breaths leaving uneven puffs of a white smoke-like substance in the air. In an instant, the weight that had lifted from his chest for just a moment crashed back down on him with twice the force. 

“That’s great,” Chanyeol congratulates, albeit disingenuous as compared to his overall shift in demeanor. 

Baekhyun wanted to smile back, yet his countenance shattered. He grimaced, his blood running cold. He could tell how much Chanyeol was trying not to be dogmatic about it, yet something slipped through the cracks and everything became obvious. 

“Yeol,” He began, “I don't want you to hate me for this.”

“What… what for?” Chanyeol asks defiantly to the shudder in his voice and his shaky frame. 

Baekhyun pushed his revelation aside, his friend's sudden shift in behavior being a big reason for it. Chanyeol, who had seemed so energetic and kind, now smiled despite his tired eyes. Baekhyun's eyes were wide despite the cold wind blowing against them. 

“I'm sorry,” Baekhyun forced a small grin, as if he was to console someone. 

~~

Baekhyun was back and bigger than ever. He hadn't expected to actually blow up, yet suddenly, he couldn't even get out of his apartment complex without getting swarmed by fans. 

That’s what he really disliked, having almost no privacy.

Baekhyun heaved a breath, sitting behind a familiar instrument. The first note he played was severely flat, the C sounding closer to that of a G. He let out a small strangled noise and decided against using his old piano. 

He never liked admitting that he were actually famous, almost as if he were scared of the attention. He wasn't, and yet he didn't understand why he was unhappy. 

Yeol.  I'm sorry.

Baekhyun resented Jongdae for apologizing so much and yet he, as a hypocrite, was doing just that.

I wanted to apologize too. | Chanyeol
And I want to meet up with you, but I know you're busy with your own .
It doesn't matter. 

~~

Chen hugged him after his first live performance in almost half a month. And yet, despite the heated atmosphere and intense emotions, he couldn't wait to get back home to be with Chen alone. Without the other staff frantically running around to see them. 

He still relished the moment, tears welling in his deep, hickory-like pools. The acute sense of sudden emotion clouded his vision even further. He was happy, and yet, didn't want his career to move further. 

His time spent between his friends, at least the ones that are present in his life, had fallen into disarray. He spent almost all his time with Jongdae, mainly because Jongdae was still his manager. Yet, Chanyeol, who he went to for help, was not only too busy to find time for him, he was too busy to find time for Chanyeol. 

His relationship blossomed with Jongdae, and yet, it wilted with Chanyeol. Baekhyun’s crush on Chanyeol turned into a close friendship yet him and Jongdae’s close friendship turned to more than that.

Baekhyun wasn't worried about it, though. His success meant nothing to him, but it meant everything to Jongdae. The person who supported him from the very beginning. He wanted only to please Jongdae, but he was falling apart at the seams. 

“I love you,” Baekhyun heard Jongdae whisper out despite the cacophony of sound surrounding them. 

~~

“Hey, what’s that?” Jongdae asked, pointing to the mirror at the end of the hallway.

Baekhyun hummed, momentarily forgetting what he had done weeks ago. He stared blankly at the broken mirror. His hands twitched softly as he continued to stare.

“Y’know what, never mind. Let’s get that cleaned up?” Jongdae said, concern lacing his voice as if to cover the pity that was always present. 

Baekhyun never really snapped; he never really came back to reality. He reached out dazedly. His body moved with the arm, grabbing onto Jongdae’s shoulder. His movements were sluggish and clumsy, like he was tipsy. His heart nearly burst in his chest, suddenly regretting letting Jongdae over to his house. 

He grabbed the actual mirror base, and tossed it at the ground. He picked up together reflective glass-like material, not hearing the objections from Jongdae.

His hand felt warm. 

“Hey, stop!” Chen yelled. He wrapped his warm hands around Baekhyun's. And despite the cleanliness issues with it, he tore the now bloodied mirror shard from the performer’s feminine hands. 

Baekhyun came to. He looked down at his hands in Jongdae's, his eyes stinging. Warm tears running down his cold cheeks, “J-Jongdae.”

“Baekhyun, what happened?” Jongdae asked softly, pity consuming his gentle voice.

“I don't think I'm ready for this. I-I know I’ve been doing this for… for as long as I remember, but… I… I,” Baekhyun cut himself off. He didn't trust himself. 

“Baek. I can't help you for something like… this,” Jongdae took in a shaky breath, “No, that's… that's not what I meant, but I don't know how to help you.”

“No, I don't need help. I can manage that fine. I just need… you… to support me.”

A strange, silent bewilderment hung in the air. 

Baekhyun forced a smile, taking his hand from Jongdae’s. He took a quick glance at the now mixed shades of red staining a small shard of the glass-like material, sangria mixing with crimson. 

He ed his hand under the faucet one he'd gotten into his bathroom. The water ran pink the moment his blood touched it. He could feel Jongdae approach from behind him, gauze in hand as he wrapped his arms around Baekhyun. 

Carefully, yet somewhat firmly, Jongdae took Baekhyun’s hand, he took note of dark scars on the back of Baekhyun's hand. They were painfully obvious, even in the slightly dimmed lights of the bathroom.

It harkened back to when Baekhyun first met Chanyeol. 

~~

Baekhyun’s smile went from ear to ear, his façade as bright and confident as the grandiose stage. 

He took the microphone its stand, singing through the excited shouts. The black, scuffed-up stage felt almost rubbery below him caused his feet to grip at the floor. It was clearly for an idol group, i.e., not for him. 

The stadium was amazingly packed, something he only imagined happened to the previously mentioned idol groups or in the case of solo artists, someone as big as one of his favorite performers, Taeyeon from Girl’s Generation. 

He froze for a split second, momentarily forgetting his lines. He noticeably misses a beat, his voice cracking slightly as he sang. And yet, the smile never washes from his face. As if it was glued onto his face. 

His inhibitions and perhaps his self-flagellation was also catching up to him. He still smiled, as if to cover it all. 

He could imagine Chen smiling back at him, as if to tell him he’s done well. 

His fears and self consciousness, especially in a crowd that size, makes him want to curl up into a ball and disappear. His face paled, barely visible under his thin layer of makeup. 

For a split second, he saw his parents, staring him down despite being feet under him. And he actually paused, stumbling gracelessly as he attempted to brush it off as nothing. His smile diminished as he continued to screw up his performance. 

And the revelation hit him like a truck. His parents were actually there, staring patronizingly at him. He looked up and saw hundreds upon thousands of faces in the crowd, cheering and having a generally gay old time. 

People enjoyed him singing and even if they'd all forget after his performance was over, the temporary high made him happier.

His gaze lost track of his parents, though. Though he still felt their piercing gazes. 

 

“Hey, great job out there,” Jongdae said, smiling brightly.

“No, the , I didn't,” Baekhyun wasn't sharing Jongdae’s joy, “I screwed up.”

“How so? You didn't say anything offensive or anything like that,” Chen’s eyebrows were raised, his brows angling like two sides of a triangle, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. 

Baekhyun shook ever so slightly, almost out of breath. Chen wanted to say that it was because Baekhyun had just performed on the stage, but something was off. It had been quite obvious, even Baekhyun himself could tell how much his body shook. 

“What the happened up there?” Chen’s voice was near the point of shouting, his voice dissolving Baekhyun's poignant fears into a small cower.

The performer’s mouth trembled, hesitating between staying quiet or speaking his mind. His mind ran wild as anxiety filled his mind. Minutes, or at least what felt like it, passed by and Baekhyun answered, “M-my parents,” he stuttered out, the words feeling like glass on his tongue. It hurt.

Their relationship had nearly petered out, being no more than just a professional relationship because being in an actual lovey dovey one was inconvenient for the both of them. Yet when Jongdae was dragging Baekhyun into a family restroom, they felt oddly close. Perhaps it was because of their similar heights and ages or their previously lustful relationship. 

“Baek, what’s wrong?” The nickname had slipped from the manager’s mouth more casually than Baekhyun had ever heard him speak. Jongdae even leaned against the wall, his hands in his pocket like those kids who pretended to be cool and edgy. Yet his voice still held a familiar formal tone. 

“I— it’s hard to explain, but I… I saw my parents and panicked.”

“It's fine, many idols make mistakes on stage.”

“I'm not an idol, my performances aren't as high stakes as idols, but what if they come over and chastise me for being such a failure?”

“They won't do it,” Jongdae grabbed Baekhyun’s shoulders, squaring them with his own, “They’ll have to go through me first.”

Baekhyun laughed, smiling wider than before, “This is why I love you,” Baekhyun cringed at how disgusting of a couple they were being but sealed it off with a kiss regardless.

Jongdae leaned into Baekhyun, almost hugging him. Even with a few angered knocks at the door and deluges of notifications on both males’ phones didn't break their bond.

 

~~

 

They finally moved into the same apartment, which made their professional and personal relationships much easier. 

Boxes littered the now cramped apartment, yet a striking mess was almost spotlighted by the light above it. 

“Hey, are you going to ever going to clean that up?” Jongdae asked, noticing the mirror still lying in a similar state to when he was last there.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” Baekhyun replied, though not giving a definitive answer to Jongdae’s question.

“And..?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll clean it up.”

 

 

it still looks like . tell me what to do better.