"Hey," Chanyeol attempts to whisper because, even though both the TV and the youngest boys are yelling, the room remains oddly peaceful. "Who is that?" 

He nods his head behind the couch, hoping that his actions aren't obvious, hoping that his curiousity isn't palpable in the air. Waiting for a response, Chanyeol doesn't let his eyes drift away from the smaller boy, from the way his soft hair is splayed across a pillow on Kyungsoo's bed.

Even in the dim light of the room (really, truly dim, since Kyungsoo insists on letting only his christmas lights shine through the small studio apartment) he can tell that the sleepy boy is beautiful. He's half awake, half asleep, and each word he says drifts across the room like a lullaby. He's putting Chanyeol to sleep from just watching -- it's weird.

Kyungsoo follows the taller's gaze across the room, eyes softening when they spot the figure curled in his bed, heavy eyelids and pouty mouth on full display. The boy smacks his lips together before pulling them into a lazy smile, sweet sentiments oozing out of his eyes with each blink, a comforting aura practically cocooning him. Chanyeol's eyes flicker between him and Junmyeon, watching their exchange, watching the boy's long fingers wrap around a blanket and bring it to his shoulders gently.

"That's Byun Baekhyun." Kyungsoo chuckles the name out, as if the boy's very being is an act of comedy, of happiness. "He's in one of my classes. As you can see, he gets comfortable pretty quickly." 

Chanyeol can see that. Baekhyun is giggling directly in Junmyeon's face, face scrunched in joy, and it awakens something in Chanyeol, something that dyes his cheeks red and makes him take a deep breath. Ow, he thinks, smiles shouldn't hold that much power. 

If his friends weren't screaming over the action movie blaring through the apartment, Chanyeol would've thought that this was a serene moment of realization -- maybe it was the second he understood that perhaps you can fall in love at first sight. But his friends are deafening, as always, and his head hurts a little, partially due to the fact that Sehun and Jongin won't shut up, but mostly because of the way Baekhyun's speaking right now, cheeks and lips puffed out in the most adorable expressions he's ever seen. 

He wonders if watching someone speak and smile and laugh should make him feel this nervous, this giddy, this invested. He wonders if Kyungsoo has registered the look on his face and filed away this information for later. He wonders if Baekhyun can feel his eyes on him, can feel the infatuation drifting from the tall boy on the couch. 

"Shut the up!" Sehun's louder than even Chanyeol's most panicked thoughts, and so he spins away to watch the TV and figure out what's going on. He needed that distraction, really -- for once, he thanks their loud mouths. "You think you could do better? Don't ever talk about Thor like that again. off, Jongin." 

Jongin laughs loudly, voice high pitched and breathy, before he launches toward the youngest boy to punch his shoulder. "I'm older than you, ." 

Chanyeol hopes Baekhyun likes cussing and screaming and fighting. He also hopes that Baekhyun likes tall boys with big ears and a crippling fear of confrontation -- he hopes he likes boys named Chanyeol, specifically. His hopes are far too high, he fears. 

"And? You want me to respect someone with a 2.5 GPA?"

They fight again, this time tackling each other and blocking the TV completely. It's a clash of long limbs and boyish screams, so loud that they can't even hear the chaos overtaking the movie. Sehun disregards the rules of wrestling and tickles the older boy -- Jongin squeals and kicks his legs so wildly that Kyungsoo startles and moves to protect his living room setup, panic settling into his usually calm features. His friends are so aggravating but so funny, and Chanyeol laughs, too distracted by Jongin's whining and Sehun's hollering to notice the presence behind him, the eyes drifting over him, the thin body settling in next to him. 

"I know them but I don't know you." 

Chanyeol jumps and turns to see Baekhyun staring at him, face mere inches away, beauty shining bright from the multicolored lights strung above them. His eyes move from charming eyes to upturned lips before settling on the curve of his cheek and the mole that resides there. He wants to connect the dots on Baekhyun's face with his finger, watch his long eyelashes flutter closed against his touch -- but he doesn't know him, he realizes suddenly, panic bubbling inside his chest like lava. 

"I'm Park Chanyeol," he smiles wide, relieved when Baekhyun mimics the gesture, eyes crinkling against soft skin. "Kyungsoo and I grew up together. That's why I'm here for movie night." 

Baekhyun's so pretty from up close, features and gestures so defined, real in a way that overwhelms each of Chanyeol's senses. Until a second ago, he'd been a wisp of smoke across the room, but now he's surrounding him, filling his lungs and wrapping around every inch of his consciousness. When Baekhyun's eyes don't lose an ounce of their spark even after a few moments, his hands itch to reach out to the smaller, to trace his features into paper and paint him, an ocean of crushing smiles and nimble fingertips on stark white canvas. 

Oh god, he thinks, stomach rolling, he wants to paint him already -- he has it bad this time.

"I'm Byun Baekhyun," a slim hand grabs Chanyeol's and shakes vigorously, frying all the braincells he had left, burning his ears a permanent red. "I met Kyungsoo this year! He's so funny, even though he doesn't try. I'm just here to watch Chris Evans, honestly." 

Chanyeol wants to laugh at that, but he can't, not when all he can register is that Baekhyun's hand is cold and soft -- and still held in his. Then he's forcing something akin to a giggle out, some of the joy in his chest bubbling into his voice. Even though it sounds garbled and goofy to Chanyeol, the sound of it makes Baekhyun laugh too. Suddenly, Chanyeol thinks he could pass out.

The hand is gone, but Chanyeol still feels it tingling across his palm.

"Kyungsoo's talked about you, you know," Baekhyun's smile is impish, all-knowing, and it makes the taller shift in his seat. He gulps. "He said you're really nice and that you're an artist! You paint, right?" 

Chanyeol's heart stutters and he avoids thinking of the way he'd dreamed of putting such beautiful features on canvas only seconds before. It was like Baekhyun could read his mind, could tell that his features and voice and presence sparked inspiration deep within Chanyeol's soul. He feels like Baekhyun can see through him, like he's as clear as the windows surrounding the living room -- he fears that the spark will spread too far, will catch them both on fire if he's not careful enough.

"I paint a little, yeah," Chanyeol feels embarrassed, but he kind of likes Baekhyun's prying eyes and confident smile, likes the way he's so wholly entertained by Chanyeol's existence. Everything about the shorter makes him hypersensitive, overstimulated, and he wonders if Jongin and Sehun are still fighting -- he can't focus on anything besides Baekhyun's lips and the way he enunciates each syllable. 

"What do you paint?" his eyes are so focused, and he's moving closer, ever so slowly. "Flowers? Landscapes? People?"

Chanyeol doesn't think he's breathing, but it's okay, because now he knows that Baekhyun's eyes sparkle even more from up close, that he smells like strawberries and honey. 

"He paints people," Junmyeon's back from the kitchen, apparently, and he hands Chanyeol a plate of pizza and chips as he settles down on the floor by his shins. "Mostly, I think." 

Junmyeon's right, and when Chanyeol nods along to his friend's words, Baekhyun lights up even further. It makes Chanyeol's hands shaky and pulse throb. He hopes that Baekhyun likes paintings of people.

"You must be so talented," his words are said casually, but his eyes are fawning, and Chanyeol wonders whether he could ever capture the look Baekhyun is giving him right now, brilliant and full of unspoken admiration, despite only meeting a few minutes ago. He wonders if someone so lovely has ever existed before, will ever exist again.

"No, really, I'm --"  

"Don't flatter yourself," Jongin's voice is hoarse and annoyed as he slides into Chanyeol's lap easily, wrapping strong arms around the tallest, anchoring him in mortification and locking him down in affection. "My baby Chanyeol is the best artist in the whole wide world!" 

Baekhyun's laughing a loud laugh, one that sends tingles down Chanyeol's spine, one that makes the other boys burst into giggles too. He's so tiny, but his voice is loud and his happiness is infectious, ever-bright, so intoxicating. Chanyeol wants to push Jongin out of his lap and capture that glow in the other's eyes as best he can, wants to do his cheekbones justice as he carves him out with paint, cherishes the curve of his nose with of muted tones. He stays put, though, watching with bated breath as Baekhyun composes himself, cheeks pink and eyes teeming with amusement.

"But Chanyeol only paints people with blue, purple, and gray -- stuff like that," Sehun's voice is muffled, informative, and suddenly Chanyeol realizes that the youngest has stolen his plate of pizza. "He may look like he's a big goofball, but deep inside, he's a constant, ongoing blue period. Only Van Gogh can relate, I guess." 

"That's Picasso -- he had the blue period, Sehun."

Sehun rolls his eyes at Chanyeol's tone, and Jongin nuzzles his head against the crook of Chanyeol's neck, tiny voice drifting through the apartment: "My baby Chanyeol is so smart!"

Baekhyun seems to think this comment is the funniest thing to ever be said, so Chanyeol holds back the expletives tickling his tongue and the rough shove he'd planned to land on Jongin's . If it makes the smaller boy's eyes go starstruck and that boisterous laugh ring out, Chanyeol will put up with most anything. 

They watch the movie then, and Chanyeol ignores the way Baekhyun scooches closer to him, shoulders and arms touching only slightly. He tries to focus on how heavy Jongin's body is, on the way Tony Stark is barking orders, and he's able to maintain a semblance of sanity, even with the residual heat of Baekhyun's sparkling energy heating him to the very core, leaving his mind ringing with constellations across plush cheeks and the soft scent of strawberries nestled against his arm. 

-- 

He frowns at the of gray lining the canvas, at the way the plum color highlights what should be an accurate depiction of Baekhyun's jawline, strong and sharp against full cheeks and soft lips. It's not, though, and that's the issue -- the painting is Baekhyun, but it's not Baekhyun. 

Chanyeol stares down at the boy's instagram (which he obtained from Kyungsoo, after a few questioning glances and incriminating nods.) He thinks the painting is an accurate depiction of the angel in the photo, but it's not completely right. The ocean blue washes away the joy accumulated in Baekhyun's eyes, turns the sweltering warmth hiding in his smile to tepid fog, bland and wrong and not Baekhyun. 

As much as he'd been infatuated initially with the boy, and as religiously as his brain had registered every feature on the smaller's face, it was no help, not right now. The heat that Baekhyun carried couldn't be translated without a few errors, not with Chanyeol's clumsy hand and dreary colors clouding the canvas. For once, he feels utterly defeated by a piece, and he needs to sit down. 

Maybe he needs to see him again -- to get a better grip on his features, to get over this silly heat sizzling in his chest, to overcome this urge to paint. He needs to see Baekhyun again in order to conquer this painting, to let his mind rest peacefully and forget the way Baekhyun makes every atom in his body spin out of control, silly and dizzy and confusing. 

And so he takes a gulp of air, hoping with all his might that this will go well, and types a message to the smaller carefully, almost pitifully. 

hey! i'll be over by the education college in a few minutes if you want to go eat or something? i can invite kyungsoo too

Chanyeol busies himself by putting paints away, ignoring the tremble in his steps as he cleans up his studio (also known as his living room) in order to distract from what he's just done. He can't comprehend why he'd been so bold, why his mind had supplied such a rash decision as a solution. He's already regretting it, thinking of Baekhyun's lovely smile and eyes, knowing deep down that there's no way for someone as radiant as him to be single, much less interested in someone who's only winning trait is moody paintings of strangers he finds fascinating. When his phone dings, Chanyeol jumps to grab it, mind malfunctioning at the words displayed in front of him.

i think soo is busy!!!! but we can eat :) 

He needs to breathe, needs to focus on the mission here: learn Baekhyun's features like the back of his hand, paint him correctly, and get over this crush before his heart hurts too much. It doesn't occur to him that maybe, just maybe, Baekhyun could be both the wound and the medicine to his aching heart. 

-- 

Baekhyun eats the spicy peppers from Chanyeol's plate, and Chanyeol picks the cucumbers out of the smaller's bowl, set on purifying the meal of anything Baekhyun doesn't like. He thought he'd seen the cutest expression that could grace Baekhyun's face -- happiness -- but then Baekhyun's nose scrunches in disgust at the green vegetable, and he decides that he definitely needs to sketch that, even if it never gets painted. Everything about him is electrifying, canvas-worthy, and it's so refreshing.

He feels a weird sort of protective happiness winding around his heart and voice, making him sound doting and soft in a way he hadn't known he could be, but he explains it away, chalks it up to Baekhyun's sheer power of inspiration and motivation. With a muse like the boy in front of him, it's a wonder Chanyeol has any time to eat at all when he could be painting and drawing. 

"And so I told her to put the toy down because you're supposed to share," Baekhyun's rolling his eyes, but his smile remains fond, tender. "But she wouldn't listen! I tried to explain that she was making her friend cry, but she refused. It's okay, though, because the actual teacher stepped in and helped." 

Chanyeol hadn't given the smaller's major much thought, but when he thinks of Baekhyun teaching children, singing songs, and shining like the literal sun, he knows it fits, knows that there's no one else in the world who could give those kids such genuine warmth and love. He wonders if Baekhyun is aware of how brightly he dazzles, even in everyday situations -- he acts as though each spoonful he brings to his mouth is overwhelmingly delicious, and his cheeks turn pink as he chews, dewy face turned soft in happiness. 

"Do you want to teach preschool? Or just younger elementary?" 

"Preschool, of course!" Baekhyun frowns and makes a grab for a stray pepper left over on Chanyeol's plate. He eats it as if knowing the taller's food preferences had always been second nature to him. "I love toddlers the most. They're so tough to deal with, but it's so worth it. I want to give them a good foundation for school." 

Oh, Chanyeol's fascinated with the way his facial structure changes as he speaks, is enchanted by the adoration tinting each word he speaks. He's so beautiful it hurts. 

"And you? Jongin's little artist?" the smaller sticks his tongue out, and Chanyeol finds new ways to be amazed with each expression, shoveling in another bite to conceal the panic Baekhyun's actions instill in him. "You want to be the world's best painter?" 

The smaller's heart feels heavy, and suddenly he's not so sure he just wants to paint Baekhyun. He kind of wants to kiss him, too. 

"Not really," he shrugs. Baekhyun's eyes twinkle as they follow his movements, focused and attentive as ever. It thrills him more than he wants to admit. "I just want to be happy and paint things that inspire me. That's why I enjoy it." 

"Oh, interesting!" Baekhyun smiles as bright as ever, and Chanyeol doesn''t care that he probably tastes spicy right now, he just wants to feel those lips pressed against his. He wants to learn the curve of Baekhyun's lips like that, wants to have them completely memorized by the time he goes to paint again. He chugs his water, instead. "And what inspires you?" 

-- 

Baekhyun is amazed, to say the least. He seems enthralled with each painting that Chanyeol shows him -- which is many, since they line every wall and pile up in each corner of his tiny apartment. The taller can't remember how they got here, just a faint haze of Baekhyun's rapid-fire questions and prodding, a tender bus ride where Baekhyun shared his earphones, shoulders melded together once again, so timid and gentle and maybe not even there after all. 

"Who are they?" Baekhyun traces a dainty figure across the edge of one, a portrait of a confused girl, swirls of dark blue and emerald swallowing her whole, a gasp of air still stuck in , shock evident in her eyes. 

"Just strangers I see," he shrugs with embarrassment, feeling scrutinized and appreciated in a way that's never felt so pure, so true, before. "That was a girl on the subway. She got a call and made that face, and it stuck. It just happens." 

"You're amazing," his long fingers trail down the wall, halting at a painting that he'd just recently framed. "Is this Sehun?" 

An angular face the color of wine, with steely gray eyes and hard features, surrounded by faint outlines of books. It is Sehun, and Chanyeol feels a little embarrassed that people are actually recognizable from his artwork -- sure, he'd always wanted to portray the people around him, but it hits his core when he realizes that he's done it. 

"Yeah," Baekhyun's close to him again all at once, eyes and nose and lips only centimeters from his, shimmering under dark eyelashes and glowing skin. Chanyeol's eyes cross on accident, his eyes trying far too hard to capture every milisecond of Baekhyun in front of him, senses hyperaware of just how alone they are in this apartment.

"Do you paint your friends a lot?" the corner of his lips quirk up, tiny and simple, but it feels like the most intricate melody ever composed is playing in Chanyeol's mind, drowning out everything else but Baekhyun. "Did you paint me?" 

"I --" Chanyeol can't tell the truth, not when the only attempt he's ever made turned out to be a garish recreation of the gorgeous boy in front of him. "I haven't tried to paint you yet." 

Baekhyun deflates, stepping back a bit, and Chanyeol feels as if he's done something wrong, though he knows he hasn't. He hasn't, right? His mind is whirring, and he wants to pull Baekhyun closer again, even though his mind is screaming to run and stop himself from becoming addicted to the warmth the smaller exudes, to the smiles they share. 

"Oh, I just thought -- I thought the one in the corner was me," Baekhyun points, voice tiny and a little blue. It doesn't fit him, no matter how Chanyeol tries to match his tone to a hue he's so familiar with. "Sorry for assuming."

Chanyeol wants to cry because that is Baekhyun; he hadn't picked it up before he'd run out to eat with the smaller, and now he's royally ed. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough to spend hours painting someone he'd met once, he'd been caught lying about it. If Baekhyun brings this up to anyone else, he will never hear the end of it, he's sure. 

"Oh!" Chanyeol moves to the left, blocking it from Baekhyun's sight. "That's -- that's, that's a work in progress. I didn't like how it turned out. I didn't think you would want to see the failed one." 

It's as if a switch has been flipped, and the fire in Baekhyun's eyes is kindled once again, warm with orange undertones, setting the boy aglow in this little, melancholy apartment. It feels dangerous, but Chanyeol likes it, likes the way his heart jumps against his chest at Baekhyun's actions.

"I hope you show me the finished one," the smile burns bright into Chanyeol's chest, and his heart struggles to keep him functioning with a ray of sunshine directed straight at him. "You know, if it's as good as that one is, I might have to steal you from Jongin. I'll see you later, my little artist, okay?" 

-- 

He tries. He really does. Hours upon hours are spent frowning at canvases, colors clashing against the figure of Baekhyun he so longs to recreate. It feels as if he's grasping onto the rays of light that Baekhyun emits, as if he's searching for that twinkle of warmth among the hues in front of him. 

But it doesn't work -- he's far too enchanting to be summed up in murky blue and gray. Baekhyun is everything that shines in this world, and he deserves yellows and oranges and reds, glitter and pink, a spectrum of warmth that overwhelms the viewer with pure adoration. He can't be contained in Chanyeol's limited imagination of cool tones, and it saddens him suddenly. He'll never truly capture Baekhyun's air, no matter how hard he tries. 

He stares at the blues and the grays on innumerable canvases in front of him, littered around his apartment, traces of failure and anger and a lingering feeling of wanting Baekhyun to be proud. It hurts, and so he sets down his brush and climbs into bed, determined to avoid Baekhyun and his inviting lips and captivating smile until he can handle not being able to paint him, not being able to hold him like he so desperately wants.

He may have crushed a little too hard on his muse, and it hurts now -- Chanyeol feels all types of blue and gray, and he falls into a fitful sleep, knowing that somewhere, Baekhyun is radiant shades of yellow, shimmering like the full moon against an endless black ocean. 

-- 

For days he ignores the group chat, favoring eating takeout in his apartment and avoiding all human contact. He wants to get over this fluttery feeling, this echoing sadness that leaps into the corners of his mind when he thinks of Baekhyun and his inability to portray the boy as brightly as he deserved. 

He's being dramatic, he knows, but he doesn't want to deal with the heavy weight that one-sided crushes and lost inspiration dumps on him. He's only just showered, still drying off his hair with a towel, mind flooded with thoughts of what to order for dinner -- Thai? Pizza? Fried Chicken? -- when he hears footsteps outside of his door. At first, he thinks he's imagining it, but no -- they're not loud, just enough to be sure of a presence.

His apartment is run-down enough to hear most everything through the walls, and so he knows that he's not mistaken right now. There is definitely one or more people lingering outside, and he's suddenly terrified, mind running through every possible humiliating situation that Sehun and Jongin will place him in when they barge in. He prepares himself to deal with Kyungsoo's pitiful stare and Junmyeon's comforting pat on the shoulder, to cry a little about getting attached to a beautiful boy for no reason, and to move on. It'll hurt, but he's a little grateful, even if they didn't call first and, subsequently, scared the living out of him. 

The footsteps move more, fidgeting, and Chanyeol sighs -- he'll open it before they get mad and start banging on the door. It swings open, and there's no tall, boyish nuisances standing there -- no short, caring friends waiting patiently either. It's Baekhyun. Baekhyun with rosy cheeks and shining black hair and a tangerine colored sweater. Beautiful, Chanyeol's mind supplies, even though he wants it to shut up, wants to silence that lovestruck side of him. 

"Hey," the smaller's voice is out of breath, as if he'd ran up the flight of stairs to this door, as if he was in a rush. "Are you okay?" 

Chanyeol is still in shock, but he nods hesitantly, watching as the charming boy steps past Chanyeol into the room, hands balled in the sweater, nervous. There's a twinge of uncertainty in his walk today, and it's worrisome, but Chanyeol ignores it in favor of panicking over the state of himself and his apartment. There's canvases filled with attempts of Baekhyun's face all over, all gastly, all too novice to be compared to this angelic face, to this breathtaking personality, to the ray of light that has situated himself by the couch. 

He's looking around, fascinated, at the countless paintings. Chanyeol wants to throw up. 

"Why are they all me?" Baekhyun's peering around each edge of the couch as if he can't believe what he's seeing. The taller watches him do it, feeling his heart constrict with a little bit of fear and an overwhelming amount of devotion. 

"I --" he gulps, shutting the front door, watching Baekhyun's eyes drift to him so slowly, so full of awe, clear and brown and vivid all at once. "I wanted to finish painting you. It didn't work, though." 

"What are you talking about?" Baekhyun's head is shaking, and his lips are up in the tiniest way, pink coating his entire face. "They all look amazing, Chanyeol." 

"They're too gloomy for them to be you. I always paint in blues and grays and -- I'm sorry. It just didn't work. You need warm colors, since you're like sunshine."

His face lights up in a smile -- just like the tiny one he'd shown Junmyeon that night at Kyungsoo's apartment, the one that shone the moment he'd felt attracted to the celestial boy in front of him. He's seen this smile directed at him, seen those lips upturn and eyes go completely full of warmth, but never with this intensity. Never in his life has he felt so singled out, so wholly targeted, and it he feels like he's on the verge of breaking the promise to get over Baekhyun. 

"I'm sunshine?" Baekhyun's voice comes out higher than normal, smile evident, and he lets out a tiny chuckle, shaking his hands free of his sweater. "You did a beautiful job with the paintings, Chanyeol. All of them. You don't have to try that hard for me." 

"I wanted to --" the smaller boy is getting closer, and Chanyeol backs up against the door, throat closing in on itself. "I wanted to make something that looked like you. It's just hard to capture you in colors that aren't warm and bright." 

Baekhyun's smile goes radiant, and suddenly his eyes are only faint memories, closed as eyelashes brush against his cheekbones. He's so close, so small, so warm -- he's waiting for something, and Chanyeol is scared that he might guess wrong. The smaller peeks one eye open, looking at the taller expectantly, and then he laughs loudly, just as booming as the first time he'd heard it -- goofy and annoying and completely divine. 

"You don't have to worry about capturing my features in paintings, okay?" Baekhyun's on his tip-toes, lips curling into the tiniest, most dazzling smile Chanyeol's ever seen. "You can have them in real life." 

Lips touch his, and every ounce of heat that he'd ever dreamed of is contained in Baekhyun, he's sure. This is what a warm summer day feels like, what heaven must be like. Chanyeol closes his eyes as he sighs against the soft lips, only yellow reflecting on the back of his eyelids. 

-- 

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY PARK CHANYEOL. i love you. 

 
hope you guys liked this PURE FLUFF!!!!!! thanks for sticking with me darlings!

(if you guys want a ??? pt 2?? or continuation?? hmu i'll be glad to give you some more?) 

have a lovely day/night/morning i hope you all are doing well and staying healthy like our angel chanyeol would want you to! bye bye!!! <3

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