“Go away, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol groaned at his best friend who called him just a couple minutes after midnight struck. “I need to revise for my psychology paper tomorrow, I can’t afford distractions.”

 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo reprimanded over the phone, making the taller wince. “Get some sleep,” he ordered. “Health is more important than-“

 

“No,” Chanyeol said, before hanging up. He rubbed his temple, stressed out. 

 

Kyungsoo called again. 

 

“Byun is moving,” he started, before Chanyeol could say anything, trying to comfort the stressed boy. 

 

“To top set Chemistry?” Chanyeol snorted, hurriedly taking notes on evaluation of Freud’s theory. “I doubt it, Soo, he can’t carry out a titration reaction without blowing something up.”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo said, voice firm. “He’s moving,” he repeated. “Away. Houses,” he clarified. “Thought it’d comfort you, seeing as how much you hate him.”

 

“So? Most of us move houses at one point in our life, Soo. Don’t know why that’s relevant. At least he won’t be my neighbour anymore,” he let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “You’ll still see his annoying face around. But definitely not in Chemistry top set. There is no way you’ll see him there.”

 

“You’re such an idiot, Chanyeol. The brat is moving to Canada. With Kris. Both families are taking their conjoined business abroad,” he says conversationally. “You won’t see his annoying - Chanyeol?” He calls for his friend worriedly, his breathing come in harsh and uneven. 

 

Chanyeol’s hand is frozen, halted in his notes about the reductionist theories. 

 

“Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo calls again, confused. 

 

“That’s n-not a funny joke, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol said quietly, breathing staggering. 

 

“Why would I joke? I thought you’d be relieved, it would put an end to your countless arguments,” Kyungsoo spoke, confusion seeping in his tone. 

 

After a long time, Chanyeol spoke, swivelling his chair to face the house across the road, where he looked in Kyungsoo’s bedroom window. “Kyungsoo, are you a hundred percent sure about that? Look me in the eyes and repeat what you just said.”

 

After some fumbling, Kyungsoo appeared at the window, repeating words that sunk Chanyeol’s heart lower and lower into his chest. 

 

“I’m a hundred percent sure,” Kyungsoo confirmed. 

 

Chanyeol closed his eyes, exhaling sharply, before he left the window. 

 

“Chanyeol? You’re acting strange, what’s wrong? Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo’s endless concerns didn’t reach his ears, only one thing focused on his mind. “Chanyeol? Are you- are you leaving your house? What are you doing? You’re barely wearing any layers of clothing! It’s cold outside. What are you doing?”

 

Chanyeol stopped by the fence in his garden, looking Kyungsoo across the road and locking eye-contact. “Good night, Kyungsoo,” before he hung up the call, stuffing his phone in his back jeans pocket and hauling himself over the fence that separated his house from his neighbour’s. 

 

He ignored the ringing of his phone, and he ignored Kyungsoo’s frantic waving in the window, moving to the backyard of the Byun’s house. 

 

Then, picking up a smooth round pebble, hoping it wouldn’t cause destruction, he aimed it at the window on the far right of the house, closest to Chanyeol’s own bedroom next door. Settling himself on the trampoline with the safety roof netting that stopped rain from entering the small play area for kids, he waited, looking up at the window. 

 

Much to his delight (because it was freezing outside) the desired boy came to the window, rubbing his eyes cutely (wait, what?) and leaning out the window. Upon seeing Chanyeol outside on his trampoline, Baekhyun’s eyes widened, in confusion and another emotion Chanyeol couldn’t decipher. 

 

He disappeared from the window almost immediately, and Chanyeol hoped that meant that the brunet would come down to him, rather than opt to go back to sleep and leave him out in the cold, alone. 

 

To Chanyeol’s utter surprise, out came Baekhyun in pyjamas and a wool jacket, but preoccupied with a heavy white duvet in his hands, struggling ever so slightly as he managed to stumble it towards the trampoline. 

 

“Are you crazy?” He hissed before Chanyeol could say anything. “You’re out here in my backyard, in the freezing cold, in nothing but a white t-shirt and some dodgy jeans! Do you want pneumonia?” He said, bundling the duvet around himself and the other boy, shuffling closer. 

 

“You care,” Chanyeol said quietly, observing Baekhyun.

 

“Well, yeah,” Baekhyun flushed a lovely scarlet on his porcelain skin, illuminated by the late night moonlight. “We may not be friends, but I’m not an awful human being. I don’t want you to die.”

 

Silence enveloped them. Chanyeol couldn’t tell if it was comfortable silence or not, but it wasn’t particularly awkward, just...lacking of conversation. 

 

“Why did you come here? To me?” Baekhyun asked softly, breaking the tranquility.

 

“You and Kyungsoo got along great when you first met, you would’ve been best friends if it wasn’t for our arguments,” he spoke, calmly even though his nerves were ignited. 

 

“Okay,” Baekhyun said slowly, trying to decipher what that meant. “So what?”

 

“You’re into boys our age, and the only other boys our age in this neighborhood are Sehun, who broke up with you for Luhan on prom night, and... me. Chanyeol,” the taller continued. 

 

“Uh, yeah?” Baekhyun confirmed, not sure where the taller was getting at. 

 

“Byun Baekhyun. Who is that special someone you were talking about, that you’re in love with, but only realised at prom?” Chanyeol spoke, closing his eyes tightly and nuzzling into the duvet.

 

Baekhyun stilled. “You remembered that conversation?”

 

“Who’s your special someone, Baekhyun?” He pleaded to know. 

 

Baekhyun was silent for a while, before he let out a humourless laugh, laced with insecurity. “Well done, Chanyeol. You figured it was out.”

 

“I want you to tell me,” Chanyeol whispered, looking the other in the eyes. 

 

Baekhyun stopped all movement, staring at the other boy. He ran a hand through his hair, a sign of nervousness.

 

“It’s you,” he whispered back. “Park Chanyeol,” he spoke softly, voice wobbling. “I am in love with you.”

 

Silence enveloped them again. Baekhyun looked like he was going to cry. 

 

A large hand reached across the floor of the trampoline, beyond a white duvet and encased itself in a smaller, slender hand, entwining tightly. 

 

“What does this mean?” Baekhyun asked, unsurely. 

 

“Wise men say,” Chanyeol begun singing quietly, looking away from Baekhyun. “Only fools rush in,” his deep rasp continued. 

 

He squeezed Baekhyun’s hand, indicating enough for Baekhyun to understand. 

 

They stood out of the trampoline, swaying in a position familiar to them. 

 

“But I,”

“Can’t,”

“Help,”

“Falling in love,”

“With you.”

 

“Don’t move away,” Chanyeol pleaded softly. 

 

“Shall I stay?” Baekhyun continued singing, answering his pleas with the next lyrics of the song. 

 

“Would it be a sin?” Chanyeol sang, as the shorter buried his face into the crook of the taller’s neck. 

 

“If I,”

“Can’t,”

“Help,”

“Falling in love,”

“With you.”

 

They began to dance properly, across Baekhyun’s backyard. 

 

“Like a river flows,” Baekhyun sang louder, feeling bravado envelop him. “Surely to the sea, darling, so it goes.”

 

“Some things were meant to be, oh,” Chanyeol giggles, twirling around the shorter man and bringing him back to his chest, caressing his nape tenderly. 

 

“Take my hand,” Baekhyun reached out to hold Chanyeol’s hand again. “Take my whole, life too.”

 

“Cause I,”

“Can’t,”

“Help,”

“Falling in love,”

“With you.”

 

They stood there for a moment, caressing touches and lingering gazes, before the harsh wind attacked and Baekhyun scrambled to get a laughing Chanyeol back in the trampoline, under the duvet. 

 

They laid down there, Baekhyun’s back against Chanyeol’s chest, under the duvet. 

 

“Baekhyun. I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry? For what?” The shorter hummed. 

 

“Sorry for treating you badly. Sorry for not realising my feelings for you until it’s too late. Until y-you’re moving away.”

 

“Is that why you came here? You found out?” The shorter asked. “I thought you’d be elated. You hated me, ever since we were eleven, yet we always slow danced to this song together. At the mall, at prom, at your backyard, at my backyard just now, and countless other times. I never knew why we put aside our arguments to slow dance to this song, but I’m glad we did. I fell in love with you because you were kind to everyone else and beautiful and pure.”

 

“I didn’t hate you, I just thought it was routine. Wake up, get dressed, take the trash out, engage in petty arguments with the pretty boy next door, go to school, et cetera,” Chanyeol spoke quickly. “When you left me that night in the sports field, it hurt. We weren’t friends, but I was saddened that you weren’t...mine, I suppose.”

 

“Oh, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said, shifting their spooning position to face the taller boy. He put a hand on his cheek, and before either of them could protest, their lips met, softly, quietly and perfectly. 

 

Baekhyun had made out with plenty of people in the past, and so had Chanyeol. But this intimacy, this gentle caress, this softness was new. 

 

“Will you move away?” Chanyeol asked, knowing the answer already. 

 

“I’m sorry, Chanyeol. I’ll ask Yifan for your number. Keep in touch?”

 

“I’ll wait,” Chanyeol offered hesitantly. 

 

Baekhyun smiled, sorrow radiating beauty. “Or rather, I will. Come find me one day, Chanyeol. Toronto,” he reminded in whispers. 

 

“Toronto,” Chanyeol confirmed. 

 

“Until then, keep in touch?” Baekhyun pressed, a little bit of desperation coming into his voice. 

 

Chanyeol pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

 

And that’s where they lay, drifting off to a sleep with tangled limbs and heavy hearts.