The sweet treat that had enjoyed not so long ago now made him feel sick as the combination of sugar and cream and soft drink swirled in Chaneyols stomach. He walked quickly back to his car to hide the shame and the regret written so obviously on his face. He couldn't believe he'd run out on Mrs Byun like that but he couldn't do it. He couldn't fall apart in front of her.

He answered his phone through the car's Bluetooth connection and spoke briefly with Suho while he drove home. He'd cancelled all his bookings for the next seven days. "People are very understanding Chanyeol. I know it sounds awful but this is great for your career. The media is eating it up." Chanyeol just sighed and thanked Suho and hung up. He pulled up in the driveway of his family home and absentmindedly wondered if it would rain. Dark clouds had gathered on the horizon and there was a sense of foreboding in the air, the change in pressure and the scent of a storm building, and Chanyeol shivered in unknown anticipation.

He grabbed his phone and headed inside. "Mum. Is my stuff still up in the roof?" He asked. He'd packed a heap of things away before he'd left for Seoul and he had a sudden urge to find them. "Yes honey. Do you want me to go up there and look?" Chanyeol called out that he could do it himself and next thing he knew he was in the attic space in his brand new Supreme sweater getting dust everywhere and he didn't even give a .

Near the back he found what he was looking for. He dragged the old guitar towards himself as he backed out of the low rooved storage space. He backed all the way down the pull out ladder and as soon as he was standing in the corridor with the guitar in his hands memories flooded through him like a restorative rainstorm.

——-

"Where have you been? Open up!" It was Chanyeol's thirteenth birthday and he couldn't wait to show Baekhyun what his Dad had bought him. He shifted from one foot to the other as he knocked on Baekhyun's bedroom door waiting to be let in.

Baekhyun had been busy the last few weeks and every time Chanyeol questioned him about it he just shrugged him off with excuses of how he had to help his Dad with extra jobs around the nursery. 

Chanyeol's fingers ran impatiently over the smooth black handle of the pocket knife his Dad had given him. It was an identical match for the one Baekhyun had. He had only wanted two things for his birthday and he had been lucky enough to get one of them. The other thing he really wanted was a guitar but money was tight and guitars were expensive and his mum had said maybe for Christmas.

The bedroom door flew open and Chanyeol was greeted with the eyes of his best friend sparkling with barely contained joy. "Close your eyes!" Baekhyun said and Chanyeol complied and he heard Baekhyun shuffling around amongst the casual mess of his teenage bedroom. "Open them." He whispered and when he opened them Chanyeol gasped. Baekhyun was holding a guitar. "It's kind of beat up but it plays nicely and it just needs repainted or something......." He trailed off in sudden shyness as tears filled Chanyeols eyes. "It's perfect." Chanyeol whispered as he took it from Baekhyun's hands. 

Baekhyun was right. The wood of the body was scratched and it wasn't very pretty but when his fingers ran across the steel strings it sounded like heaven. No more spending all his lunch breaks in the school music room trying to get as much practice as he could. Chanyeol had picked up a guitar a year ago and found his talent, his calling, and his second love. But as he clutched the precious item and smiled softly at his best friend he knew nothing would ever replace his first love.

"Where did you get it?" Chanyeol was mystified. There were no music shops between here and the city. "Dad saw it in a second hand shop a few towns over one day when he was making deliveries. He grabbed it but he made me pay him back." Baekhyun blushed. "That's why I've been busy. I potted about a hundred lavender seedlings to buy that." Chanyeol put it down gently on Baekhyun's bed and pulled his friend in close for a hug. As the two boys embraced Chanyeol closed his eyes and he could smell the lavender on Baekhyun, in his hair and on his skin, radiating from his clothes. It was Chanyeol's favorite scent in the world.

That night, the porch lights beating down on him as he worked, Chanyeol carefully prised the top of the guitar loose from the back. He had already carefully removed the strings and they had been rolled up and clipped with a clothes peg. He gently sanded the wood smooth and painted it with a thin layer of fresh stain and varnish and left it to dry while he slept.

The next morning he worked carefully to put the guitar back together with its edges and surfaces like new. He glued the front back onto the body and restrung it and when it was dry he tuned it carefully. He smiled softly as he ran his fingers over the surface. His very own guitar. And no one would ever know he had painted his initials and Baekhyuns inside before he put it back together. Unlike the tree this was his own personal secret and no one would ever know that Chanyeol allowed himself to paint the heart around them.

——-

It was dusty but a soft cloth soon had the guitar looking like it had twelve years ago. Chanyeol's chest hurt as he remembered how childish he was, how foolish even, to take the brush and paint his love into a little heart inside the guitar. He ran his now-expert fingers across the strings, turned the nuts a little, and smiled when the sound came out just as perfect as he remembered. It still had a better sound to his ears than the five or so expensive guitars he used regularly these days. 

It still sounded like heaven and he felt stupid for leaving it behind all those years ago. He should have taken it with him.

"Where are you going?" the voice from the kitchen rang in his ears as if he was thirteen again and he almost called out "Baek's" in return. But on this drizzly grey afternoon Chanyeol slung his guitar on his back and shoved his cigarettes into his jacket pocket and responded with "I don't know" to his mother as he headed out of the door and set off on foot in search of solace.