The night sky was the darkest Baekhyun had ever seen it. There were thousands upon thousands of stars twinkling away in the distance, the moon their constant companion.

 

If Jongdae were here right now, he would smile and then make some joke about how the stars were as bright as Baekhyun’s eyes that would make his heart flutter and Baekhyun would loop his arms around his waist and pull him close.

 

He would kiss him.

 

First on the curly corners of his lips that he loved and then his lips proper.

 

Jongdae would probably slide fingers into his hair and make little giggly noises until Baekhyun pulled away.

 

And then he would kiss him again, a searing one that would make Baekhyun’s heart race, his toes curl in his sneakers. One that would make him fall in love all over again.

 

But Jongdae was not here.

 

Jongdae was back home, far far away from Prague and all of its alluring wonders.

 

Baekhyun could only contend himself with their letters, full of spilt ink and tears. Jongdae’s last letter still sat on his desk, the silly man having tea stained the paper just to make it a little more ‘romantic’.

 

His words, not Baekhyun’s.

 

He wrote of memories, and little snippets of song that he had concocted in that wonderful mind of his.

 

Baekhyun could almost see Jongdae in his mind’s eye, sitting at his desk, eyes half closed from exhaustion.

 

He would have his head pillowed on one arm and writing with the other, a soft lamp shining gentle light over his face.

 

Jongdae was always such a night owl.

 

Seeing Jongdae’s handwriting always made him miss him so much more, his heart aching with longing.

 

It won’t be much longer, he tried to convince himself on the nights where the loneliness became too much to bear. Only a year more.

 

A year more of scrounging and saving every last penny for that flight home.

 

Money was tight for Baekhyun.

 

He had gotten into the prestigious art school on a scholarship and had to work two different jobs just to supplement his rent and utilities.

 

There were times where he had to live on one meal a day, with only a single lamp in the entire apartment because his money had to go to things like rent and food.

 

Art supplies did not come cheap either.

 

The school was kind enough to give him whatever they had left, like charcoal and paper but sometimes his assignments called for ink or some special material that was too expensive for the school to just give away.

 

Night wind ruffled Baekhyun’s hair and he shivered, wrapping his red scarf a little tighter around his throat.

 

Jongdae had made him that scarf and he distinctively remembered it being wrapped tenderly around his neck one winter in Seoul, their cheeks flushed from the cold, hair dusted with white.

 

Baekhyun smiled a little when a golden head poked out of the balcony door next to him.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked when the man emerged fully, dressing in only a thin t-shirt and sweatpants.

 

“I could say the same about you,” the man rumbled, but his eyes were wistful. If he squinted, Baekhyun could see the picture frame he held in his hands.

 

“You miss home too,” he nodded at the frame in his hands and the golden head bobbed a little.

 

Yifan had been his next door neighbour since he got in to Prague and he attended the same art school that Baekhyun did.

 

They had a lot of late night talks out on their balcony, mostly about home and the people they had left behind.

 

Yifan talked about his lover a lot, a sweet looking young man with a dimple and curly hair.

 

“Do you think they’re seeing the same stars we see?” Yifan asked instead, turning his gaze up to the sky.

 

“Perhaps.”

Baekhyun knew they could not be.

 

Seoul was seven hours ahead.

 

It would be morning back home.

 

What would Jongdae be doing?

 

Perhaps he would still be asleep, cocooned in a blanket burrito in a too big bed. His alarm would ring in thirty minutes and he would grumble and call for Baekhyun to turn it off.

 

When he finally remembered that Baekhyun was not home, he would pout and sulk but eventually free himself from the covers to shut off the alarm.

 

Preparing for work at Junmyeon’s café would take him thirty minutes and he would walk down the same street, in ten to get to The Star.

 

Junmyeon would greet him good morning and Jongdae would put on that tan apron that suited him so well over his white button down and get to work.

 

Baekhyun could see all of it so clearly in his head and he ached desperately to be home.

 

Art school had seemed like the perfect idea, but he seemed to have unlearned how to live without Jongdae by his side.

 

Sleep stopped coming easy and his portraits were all of Jongdae.

 

Jongdae in the morning, with the morning sun spilling over his skin, Jongdae standing behind the counter of The Star, Jongdae holding his hand as they walked down the streets of Myeongdong.

 

Baekhyun could not bring himself to regret his idea but he missed his boyfriend.

 

Sometimes so much that it hurt to breathe.

 

It was difficult to wake up in the morning, knowing that he would not see Jongdae’s kitten lips that night, nor would he be showered with hugs and kisses when he stepped through the door.

 

Yifan was deep in thought as well when Baekhyun turned to look at him, his picture frame clutched in his big hands.

 

They stayed like that for another hour before turning in, the silence heavy with their longing for home and the people that made home, home.

 

-

 

Baekhyun knew what he would do for the showcase the moment it was announced.

 

He stayed late in the studio, his face and hands smudged with charcoal until Jongdae’s face staring back at him from the canvas was as perfect as he could make it.

 

All while he drew, he thought about the showcase, and the pieces he would make for it.

 

The bubble of excitement grew and grew until he finally went home to more sketching, more thumbnails for his idea.

 

This could be a great way to entice Jongdae to fly over.

 

He knew his boyfriend was busy with work and his own composing but surely he would make an exception.

 

Especially if Baekhyun paid for his ticket.

 

It would mean more work, less time for himself if he wanted to earn enough money for Jongdae to come over and for him to fly home by the end of the year.

 

But for Jongdae, to his face and hold his hand even for one night only, Baekhyun would do it.

 

He scrawled out his letter hastily, ink staining his already messy fingers. He left ink splotches on the paper even as he signed off with a bright smile on his face.

 

Delicately, he folded up the letter, sealing it with a drop of wax.

 

It seemed incredibly excessive but Jongdae got a kick out of a pretty letter and Baekhyun would indulge him until he could not afford to.

 

His phone buzzed as he slid the letter into its envelope, Jongdae’s smiling face lighting up the screen.

 

Baekhyun’s smile grew even wider and he dropped the letter, snatching up his phone.

 

“Hello, baby,” he whispered and his heart warmed when Jongdae’s melodious laugh reached his ears.

 

“Hello, Hyunnie,” he could hear Jongdae’s smile even without seeing his face and he crawled into bed, tugging the covers over him.

 

Phone calls with Jongdae were scarce and he treasured them like gems because most days, Jongdae would be too tired to do much other than fall into bed and sleep for the next five hours or so.

 

It took a minute for his old phone to catch up but Jongdae’s face finally appeared on his phone screen, grainy and pixelated but there.

 

“I miss you,” he said, rolling over onto his back to hold his phone up into the air and Jongdae pursed his lips.

 

“I miss you too.”

 

“How are classes?”

 

“Exhausting,” Jongdae did look tired, his under eye bags prominent even through the grainy image.

 

Baekhyun a finger over the screen, wishing he was there to kiss the tiredness away. Or hold him.

 

“Poor baby,” he cooed and Jongdae smiled a little more, the corners of his lips curling.

 

He looked pretty in the dim light, his black bangs flopping into his eyes, stifling a yawn with a hand, his sleeves a little too long for him.

 

“How are you, Baek? Is the giant blonde man still pining after his lover?”

 

Even tired, Jongdae still asked after Baekhyun’s work. In the midst of all his art assignments and sketching Jongdae’s face in the margins of his textbooks, Baekhyun had been working on a lazy little comic that he had based off Yifan.

 

From the moment he had met him, he had wanted to draw him.

 

Yifan looked like he had stepped right out from a manga comic and it would be a crime not to draw him in one.

 

“I haven’t had the time to continue the story,” he admitted and Jongdae pouted.

 

“That’s sad. I was looking forward to it. Are you still using my face for your assignment? Or have you finally found a new muse?”

 

Baekhyun laughed and shook his head, messing up his hair.

 

“How could I? You’re the prettiest muse.”

 

“Flatterer,” Baekhyun stuck out his tongue in response to that and Jongdae giggled, his eyes crinkling into crescents that made Baekhyun smile.

 

“So I was thinking,” he said, running a hand roughly through his hair. He was strangely nervous about telling Jongdae his idea but that was stupid.

 

This was his boyfriend.

 

“Hm?”

 

“There’s this art showcase coming up here in Prague. And my works will be in it. Do you think you’d want to come and see?”

 

He asked hopefully.

 

Money was tight for both of them but he could make it work. Even if he had to take one more job to afford the ticket, if Jongdae wanted to, he hoped he wanted to, they could make it work.

 

“You’re my talented artist,” Jongdae said, but with none of the enthusiasm that Baekhyun thought he would have.

 

His stomach pitched a little.

 

“But I have a showcase too, that I’m prepping for and I was hoping you could fly home.”

 

There was a beat of silence where Baekhyun’s hope hardened into a rock in the pit of his stomach.

 

If he flew home, he was afraid that he would never leave.

 

There was still another semester of school to go and he was afraid that being back home with Jongdae would convince him to stay.

 

“You know I can’t, Dae. I have to work and school and all those things.”

 

The look on Jongdae’s face made Baekhyun’s heart shrivel up like a little prune.

 

“But this performance is important to me,” he whispered sadly and Baekhyun flinched, “didn’t I support your dream of going to Prague? Can’t you come back even for just one night?”

 

Baekhyun had never hated himself more in that moment when he forced those words out of his mouth.

 

“I can’t, Jongdae. My showcase is important too. I’m here on scholarship and I have to put in every bit of effort to keep my place here.”

 

It was selfish of him, he knew.

 

Jongdae had in fact been a massive support. He had been the one to submit Baekhyun’s portfolio secretly to the art school and the one who pushed him into leaving when Baekhyun had been having doubts.

 

“I know that, Baek. But it’s just one performance. It would mean so much to me,” Jongdae pleaded and Baekhyun wanted to cave.

 

“I don’t have the money to fly home for just one night, Dae. I’m so tired.”

 

“Well so am I,” Jongdae’s tone had a bite to it and Baekhyun stiffened.

 

“I just want you to be here because I dedicated this showcase to you but I suppose your work is far more important than mine is.”

 

I’m on scholarship, Dae! You know how important that is!”

 

“Of course, I do! I was the one who submitted your name for it!”

 

“Don’t guilt trip me into this, Dae. I don’t have the money, or the time.”

“You never have the time! We haven’t spoken in so long because you’re always busy with work!”

 

“You’re the one who always falls asleep the moment you get home!”

 

“Yet I’m the one who always reaches out! Can’t you even try to call home for once, Baek? Or are you tired of me already? Is your fancy art school so full of pretty boys that I’m no longer good enough?”

 

The sentence chilled Baekhyun’s heart and made his blood boil at the same time.

 

How dare he?

 

“Are you accusing me of cheating?” He snapped, “how do I know you’re not doing the same?”

 

Baekhyun regretted the words the moment they left his lips and Jongdae’s cheeks flushed, his eyes darkening even as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

 

“ you, Byun Baekhyun.”

 

He snarled and the call cut out.

 

Baekhyun curled up into a ball, yanking the covers over his head. He had never been more tempted to just throw his phone across the room and watch the screen shatter into a million pieces.

 

He knew he was in the wrong, but Jongdae had said it first.

 

Turning over, he dropped his phone onto the bed and buried his face into the pillow, muffling his screams into the fabric.

 

He hated arguing with Jongdae.

 

His heart was aching as he switched off the light and lay there in the darkness, trying to forget the stunned look on Jongdae’s face when he had said those terrible words.

 

He was a horrible person.

 

Over the next few days, Baekhyun threw himself into work.

 

His bad mood became so apparent that his teacher commented about it, citing his angry brush to the class.

 

Baekhyun had only kept his head down, ignoring Yifan’s questioning looks.

 

He returned home late, staying till midnight to finish his portraits.

 

The door of the studio squeaking open startled him from staring angrily at the portrait of Jongdae’s face and he turned to see Yifan in the doorway, looking at him with concern written all over his face.

 

“Are you alright? It’s late.”

 

Baekhyun shrugged his shoulders, turning back to his work.

He had half a mind to add devil horns and evil eyebrows to the portrait to reflect his emotions but had enough self-control to put down the charcoal stick and turn the drawing to the wall.

 

“Fight with Jongdae?”

 

Yifan raised an eyebrow when he did not reply, leaning against the heavy work table.

 

Baekhyun’s sketches were littered across it, full of the same faces, little thumbnail sketches for his showcase.

 

Baekhyun glowered at him but the older man did not seem fazed.

 

“Listen, you’ve been working too hard. A bunch of us are going out tomorrow night to celebrate Sehun’s graduation. You should join us.”

 

Baekhyun shrugged, beginning to pack up his things. He was reluctant to leave, but it did not seem like Yifan would let him work in peace. Home was too quiet for him.

 

At least in the studio, surrounded by the easels and the smell of wood and paint, he could think with his brushes and pencils.

 

Jongdae had not called again and Baekhyun was hesitant to send out his latest letter. He had done it anyway in the hopes that it would placate his boyfriend a little but there had been no calls or even texts from him.

 

Baekhyun swallowed back his guilt.

 

Jongdae had accused him first. He ought to be the first to apologise.

 

Pushing Jongdae’s heated words to the back of his mind, he picked up his satchel, slinging it over his back.

 

“What time and where?”

 

-

 

The bar was crowded when he arrived, late.

 

Yifan had disappeared into the crowd, which was quite a feat considering his height but Baekhyun found Sehun by the bar, nursing a drink while everyone else was on the dance floor grinding up on each other.

 

“You know this party is for you right?” He asked, sliding into the seat next to him.

 

Sehun swivelled round to look him, handsome face brightening into a smile.

 

“Baekhyun hyung,” he said. He gestured to the bartender and ordered them more shots.

 

“Why aren’t you on the dance floor?” Baekhyun asked, nodding in thanks as glasses were placed before them. He picked one up, downing it quickly.

 

The alcohol burned as it went down but it was a good burn.

 

Sehun shrugged.

 

“Don’t feel like it tonight,” he replied, taking a sip of his own whisky.

 

“Someone ditch you?” Baekhyun questioned.

 

Sehun did seem a bit down and his eyes kept searching the crowd as if looking for someone.

 

“The boyfriend,” he said a little too casually and Baekhyun winced, patting his back.

 

“I’m sorry, man.”

 

Sehun shrugged, though his smile did not reach his eyes.

 

“On the bright side, I’m going home. So I’ll never have to see his face again.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Baekhyun replied softly. He still hugged him anyway, one arm around his waist.

 

“I wish I could go home with you,” he said tiredly, leaning his head against Sehun’s shoulders, “I miss Seoul.”

 

Sehun sat up a little, his eyes a little brighter.

“Well, you technically could, hyung. He was supposed to go home with me to meet my parents. But now that that’s not happening, I have an extra ticket.”

 

Baekhyun tensed.

 

“How much is it?” He asked, hope bubbling in his chest. Perhaps he could go home, surprise Jongdae and then his boyfriend would not be mad at him anymore.

 

“You don’t have to pay for it, hyung. It would go to waste if no one used it so you can just have it.”

 

He had forgotten that Sehun’s family was loaded, and he was nothing like the rest of them, all broke college students.

 

Baekhyun perked up a little but then the bubble of hope popped when he remembered that he still had a showcase to prepare for.

 

Sehun seemed to be able to sense his deflation as he turned to him, looking amused.

 

“You’re not really happy here, are you, hyung?”

 

It was a loaded question, and one that Baekhyun had not considered in a long time.

 

Was he happy here in Prague? Far, far away from home and Jongdae and everything familiar?

 

He had his art and his letters to Jongdae but the weight of being on scholarship was crushing and he could not deny that there were times where he could not help but wish for the programme to end so that he could just go home.

 

Was that happiness?

 

“I don’t know,” he said in reply, closing his fingers around the next shot glass.

 

Sehun shrugged.

 

“Well, don’t tell the others, but that offer’s open if you want. And there’s a pretty decent art school in Seoul if you want to transfer home.”

 

The conversation replayed in Baekhyun’s head all night when he got home, sending a slightly tipsy text of gratitude to Sehun.

 

He had two weeks to make his decision.

 

The art showcase was in one, and Jongdae’s showcase was in one and a half.

 

Sehun’s flight was a day before the showcase.

 

He would land right on the night of the showcase if he went.

 

Baekhyun sat down at his desk, surveying his tiny apartment. Was he truly happy here?

 

His phone buzzed and he swiped to answer it without looking at the screen.

 

“Byun Baekhyun.”

 

Uh oh.

 

Baekhyun flopped down onto his bed, chewing his lip as Junmyeon ripped into him, ranting about his selfishness and inconsiderate .

 

“Jongdae misses you so much and that was the best thing you could do? Accuse him of cheating? You’re an , Baekhyun.”

 

“I didn’t mean it,” he tried weakly and Junmyeon silenced him immediately.

 

“Well you sure sounded like you did. Don’t bother calling home for a bit. I made Jongdae block your number. It wouldn’t make much of a difference would it? Since you never call anyway. He has more important things to worry about than his absent so called boyfriend.”

 

Baekhyun winced, his heart shrivelling even more.

 

Junmyeon was a highly overprotective elder brother and he should have known that Jongdae would talk to him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said tensely and Junmyeon snorted.

 

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to. Enjoy your showcase, Baekhyun.”

 

The call cut off before Baekhyun could get a word in edgewise.

 

He pressed the number again but it only rang twice before it ended, the user having rejected the call.

 

Swallowing, Baekhyun tried Jongdae’s number but it went straight to voicemail.

 

Hi, unfortunately, I’m unable to get to my phone right now! Do leave a message and I’ll get back to you!

 

Jongdae’s voice was bright and happy in his ears and Baekhyun found himself dialling the number again just to hear him once more.

 

His heart clenched when the voicemail message ended with a beep.

 

Jongdae had to be hurting so much.

 

“Dae? I’m so sorry about everything. Please forgive me,” he managed to choke out.

 

He pressed the delete button before the message could go through, losing his nerve.

 

Junmyeon was right.

 

He had never noticed it before but Jongdae had always been the one to call him, on the rare days when he did not go straight to bed.

 

Baekhyun had always just assumed that his boyfriend was too busy or tired to pick up his calls and just never tried dialling.

 

He had taken Jongdae for granted for too long.

 

He really was an .

 

Baekhyun glanced at the few photo frames that he had brought of them, just to remind himself of home and his chest ached a little more.

 

The answer seemed so simple.

 

He loved Jongdae and anywhere without him was not a home.

 

Jongdae would never approve of him giving up his dreams to stay with him, but Sehun had mentioned that art college in Seoul.

 

Abandoning all thoughts of sleeping, Baekhyun pulled out his ancient laptop.

 

It took a few tries but he finally managed to get it to work, pulling up some search results of the school.

 

He ran into class with his hair all mussed and about fifteen minutes late the next day, but with a big smile on his face.

 

Yifan looked at him oddly when he took his place next to him, but Baekhyun did not say much, merely pulling out his sketchbook to take notes as the teacher droned on and on about the human anatomy.

 

“What did you do?”

 

Yifan asked when they were alone in the studio that evening.

 

All the students could not wait to get out of there, leaving the two of them alone in the stuffy studio.

 

Baekhyun shrugged, cracking a window.

 

He picked up a bottle of linseed oil and a set of oil paints.

 

Charcoal would not work underneath an oil painting. The graphite would smudge and muddy the paint colours.

 

Doing oil paintings for a showcase that was due in a week was not ideal but the paintings he had in his head were small and should be fairly dry by the time the showcase rolled around.

 

There had still been no answer from Jongdae, not even one text and Baekhyun could not gather enough courage to call him again.

 

He did try Junmyeon but his fiancé had been the one to answer the call, breathless with laughter when he informed Baekhyun that Junmyeon was currently unavailable.

 

Baekhyun really did not need the mental image that he gave him when he heard Junmyeon panting.

 

“Is that Baekhyun? Tell him to off. We’re busy.”

 

So he contented himself with the thought that he would be going home in two weeks, focusing the rest of his energy on his showcase pieces.

 

The application to the Seoul art school had already gone through and all he had to do was play the waiting game.

 

Even with his impeccable grades, Baekhyun could not help the little thrill of nerves that shot through him when he sent out his application of transfer.

 

He had kept mum about it so far, only telling Sehun that he had applied.

 

His friend had been ecstatic at the thought of Baekhyun maybe returning home with him.

 

Baekhyun wrinkled his nose when the reek of the oil paints hit him, the first vibrant yellow.

 

He could feel Yifan’s eyes burning into him as he painted the base layer for Jongdae’s favourite mustard coloured sweater, even as the older man worked on his own piece.

 

“Are you trying to burn a hole into my back, Fan ge?” He asked, amused.

 

“Did you speak to Jongdae already? You look happier.”

 

“I’m going home,” Baekhyun dabbed some darker paint into the corners of the sweater, his lips pulled into a bright grin.

 

“Or well, I’m trying to apply for a transfer so that I can go home.”

 

Yifan’s eyebrows rose up.

 

“Really? I thought you liked it here.”

 

“I do,” Baekhyun turned to look at him, “but I miss Jongdae. Am I truly happy if this doesn’t feel like home?”

 

Yifan patted his shoulder, a strange look touching his eyes.

 

“That’s very true. Since when have you become so wise?”

 

Baekhyun did not answer, only turning back to study his painting.

 

Only half a week had passed before a reply came from the school.

 

Baekhyun left it sitting in his inbox, starred, but unopened.

 

He was too afraid of what it would say.

 

“Have you gotten an answer yet?”

 

Sehun was in his tiny kitchen, trying to finagle a meal out of Baekhyun’s meagre groceries.

 

There was soup bubbling away on the stove and a delicious smell coming from the saucepan he held in his hand.

 

Baekhyun was seated on the small couch, his laptop open and sketchbook in hand as he watched Sehun potter around.

 

“I got a reply about two days ago,” he admitted as he scribbled another line that he could use in his blurb.

 

His fried stopped stirring and turned to look at him with a raised brow.

 

“And?”

 

Baekhyun shrugged, not daring to look in his direction. He knew his fear was stupid and misguided.

 

His grades were near perfect, and there was no reason for the Seoul academy to reject him.

 

“I’m afraid to look at it?” The end of his statement lifted up like a question and Sehun scoffed, switching the knob to turn off the flame.

 

He gave the saucepan a rough shake and poured its contents out onto a platter before giving the soup a stir.

 

“Switch on your laptop and I’ll have a look.”

 

Obediently, Baekhyun did as he was told, careful to keep his eyes from seeing the subject line of the email.

 

He went back to his sketching, though the delicious smell floating from the kitchen did nothing to distract him from his growling stomach.

 

Sehun finally emerged with a plate of beef stir fry and two bowls of rice balanced precariously on top of each other.

 

Baekhyun nudged his sketchbook aside as he set the food down onto his little coffee table that also served as his dining table, reaching for the rice immediately.

 

“I’ll be glad to go home so you can cook for me more often,” he teased and Sehun stuck out his tongue at him.

 

“Your boyfriend can cook for you.”

 

Baekhyun pouted, his heart twinging a little at the mention of Jongdae.

 

He had sent a couple more texts, just generic good morning, how was your day and I’m sorry texts but there was still no reply from his boyfriend.

 

He reasoned that Jongdae had to be preparing for his showcase and had very little time to be reading texts but it did little to take away the sour taste in his mouth.

 

“Let’s see,” Sehun plopped down in front of his laptop, squishing him against the side of the couch with his rice bowl.

 

He scrolled down Baekhyun’s email, cursing at the speed of the thing, a fact that made Baekhyun smile.

 

It still amazed him that someone like Sehun knew how to cook at all, let alone so well.

 

His friends back home would be all over him.

 

“Well, no surprises, Byun. You made it in,” Sehun said around a mouthful of rice and Baekhyun perked up.

 

“Really?”

 

“You just have to finish this showcase and you’re homebound.”

 

The words brought happiness welling up in Baekhyun’s chest and he put down his chopsticks to wrap an arm around Sehun’s waist.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, “ for the ticket.”

 

Sehun snorted unattractively.

 

“You have to introduce me to that single friend of yours that you said is a traveling photographer so don’t be too happy.”

 

Baekhyun waved his hand in the air, his lips curled into a brilliant smile.

 

“I’ll even set up a date if you want. Just tell me when.”

 

-

 

With only three days left to the showcase, Baekhyun did not have much time to think about Jongdae at all.

 

Lies.

 

Those were lies.

 

His entire showcase piece revolved around the man he loved and the fact that they had not spoken in close to a week was eating away at him.

 

But he threw himself into work, painting and refining Jongdae’s cheekbones and curly lips on the canvas.

 

To anyone who looked at the little canvases, it would look like little snapshots of a random person, perhaps from Baekhyun’s imagination.

 

But to Baekhyun, they were parts of Jongdae.

 

His favourite mustard sweater, his soft hair.

 

Yifan had studied his brush and commented something about needing to see this man who invoked such passion in Baekhyun’s work.

 

Baekhyun’s personal favourite were the curly lips.

 

“Did you sleep here?”

 

Was the first thing he heard one morning in the studio.

 

He lifted his head, wondering why his back ached so much. His fingers felt cramped and sore and were stained with all sorts of paint.

 

There was paint on his nose and his eyes felt crusty.

 

Baekhyun cringed away from the bright sunlight flooding in through the windows and sat up, shielding his eyes.

 

His hip made a noise that was definitely not normal and Yifan winced.

 

“You need to stop doing this,” he said kindly as Baekhyun pushed his chair away from the table, dropping the paintbrush that he had apparently slept with all night.

 

“Need to make it better,” he mumbled, lifting a hand to rub at his crusty eyes.

 

Yifan caught his wrist before he could, gesturing to the dried paint caked on his skin.

 

“It’s better. Just go home and sleep. Take a day off.”

 

Baekhyun shook his head stubbornly, trying to tug himself free.

 

“No Jongdae, not home,” he groused.

 

“Alright. Go back to your apartment and call your boyfriend.”

 

Baekhyun tried to fight back but he was still half asleep and Yifan was much stronger than he was.

 

His phone was shoved into his hand, his bag haphazardly slung over his shoulder before he was being pushed out the studio, the door slamming shut in his face.

 

Even without the studio, Baekhyun managed to find himself working himself to death back at his apartment.

 

He was knees deep in sketching out the last canvas he needed when the doorbell rang.

 

“Still working?” Sehun poked his head in the door when he opened it and the smell of stroganoff filled the air.

 

“Did Yifan call you?” Baekhyun asked, yawning. He was grateful for his friends trying to make sure he ate and stayed alive while working but really he was an adult.

 

He could take care of himself.

 

“Yes,” Sehun answered, pushing his way into the flat.

 

He wrinkled his nose at the mess of pencils and papers spread out over the desk in the corner of the room and held up the bag in his hand proudly.

 

“I have beef stroganoff, but you need to clear the table.”

 

Baekhyun stacked up his papers, replacing his pencils in their tin.

 

Sehun’s critical eye was traversing his half sketched canvas when he moved it.

 

“Is that Jongdae?” He asked, cracking open the lid of the Tupperware container.

 

The sketch was rough, of a crinkled eye as if the person was smiling so wide that his pupil could not actually be seen.

 

“Yeah,” Baekhyun could not help the smile that tugged at his lips when he looked at it.

 

It always made him happy when Jongdae smiled like that, all crinkled eyes and brilliant laugh.

 

“Looks good,” Sehun said, already dipping a spoon into the steaming bowl.

 

He pushed it over to Baekhyun, who realised that he was suddenly ravenous.

 

The last meal he had was a burrito the night before while he painted over Jongdae’s soft dark hair.

 

“Have you called him?”

 

He paused mid bite with his spoon halfway to his mouth.

 

Sehun was looking at him with a glint in his eye and Baekhyun did not like it.

 

He swallowed down his mouthful and wiped at his lips, trying to push the dull ache that had started in his chest away.

 

Jongdae still had not returned his calls and multiple calls made to Junmyeon had proved futile.

 

“Are you surprising him or something? I thought you’d tell him first thing.”

 

“I am. Surprising him, I mean,” Baekhyun dipped his spoon back into his food, hoping that the surprise would at least make up for a little of his behaviour towards his boyfriend.

 

He sure hoped it did.

 

-

 

A day before the showcase, his phone dinged with a text that made his heart leap and his mailbox was stuffed with an old fashioned looking letter sealed with hunter green wax and tied with twine.

 

Baekhyun did not open it, only setting it aside carefully on his desk.

 

He would only open it after his showcase, as a reward to himself for working hard.

 

Good luck for your showcase.

 

The text was simple but it told him all that he needed to know, that Jongdae was no longer mad at him.

 

But Baekhyun still had a million things to do before he could make it up to him.

 

Thank you. I love you.

 

A little thrill of nerves shot through him when he typed out his reply, pressing send before he could overthink it.

 

“You’re stressing,” Yifan noted that afternoon when they were setting up their pieces in the gallery.

 

Baekhyun straightened one of the canvases that was a little crooked and shrugged.

 

His heart was pounding a little inside his chest as he hung up the last piece, the painting of Jongdae’s laughing eye.

 

The paint was touch dry and as long as people obeyed the signages not to touch the paintings, would stay perfect.

 

The showcase went smoothly, as smoothly as it could and Baekhyun snapped as many photos as he could.

 

He was a little sad that Jongdae was not there to see it in person but photos were better than nothing.

 

Then it was a mad rush to pack up what essentially was his life into two suitcases and a carry on.

 

Yifan promised to send what he could not pack, including his Jongdae paintings along and that he would visit, with his beau after he had graduated.

 

Baekhyun’s blood was thrumming with excitement and nerves when Sehun picked him up with a hired car and he very nearly dropped his passport at immigration.

 

“Calm down, hyung. You’re vibrating and there’s still a long flight to go.”

 

Sehun shot him an amused smile before sliding his headphones over his ear.

 

Baekhyun has just enough time to call ahead to Junmyeon’s fiancé, begging for a ride to Jongdae’s showcase venue before the plane was calling for them to shut off all electronics and then they were taking off.

 

By the time he arrived at Incheon Airport, Baekhyun was exhausted and jet lagged, dragging two hefty suitcases with him.

 

Luckily, Chanyeol, the fiancé, was a monster of a man, easy to spot because he towered over most people.

 

“You better thank me. Junmyeon was beyond pissed when I had to bail on driving him to the venue. He thought I’d forgotten about his baby brother’s showcase,” Chanyeol chattered as he loaded Baekhyun’s suitcases into the trunk, the art student stumbling around to the passenger seat.

 

He was groggy and tired, his eyes had heavy bags under them by the time they arrived and he was sure he needed a shower.

 

But they had arrived right on time, the lights dimming the very moment they walked in and all Baekhyun could see was the single spotlight.

 

And the man in the spotlight.

 

His heart lifted at the sight of Jongdae, seated on a little stool, his body almost swallowed up in that green sweater that Baekhyun loved seeing him in.

 

“Come on, lover boy,” Chanyeol tugged him through the crowd and Baekhyun felt his heart seize a little when Jongdae began to speak, his voice like velvet to his ears.

 

“Thank you all for coming. I composed these songs for someone very dear to me. Sadly, he cannot be here today to hear them but I hope you will all enjoy them, regardless. This is Amaranth.”

 

They squeezed to the front right as Jongdae finished his introduction. Baekhyun cringed a little when Chanyeol touched the elbow of a shorter man and he whirled around.

 

.

 

“Baekhyun?”

 

Junmyeon’s eyes were wide with shock and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but Baekhyun put his finger to his lips when the first notes of the guitar filled the air and Jongdae’s eyes fluttered close.

 

His heart trembled as Jongdae sang, soft and soothing and longing all at once.

 

Tears pricked at his eyes and he forgot his tiredness as he was swept up in the music, Jongdae’s voice carrying him through a wave of emotion.

 

He had missed him so much.

 

Jongdae sang two more songs before bowing and thanking the audience once more, the spotlight following him as he left the stage, heading straight for his older brother.

 

Baekhyun could not hold back any longer, squeezing past Junmyeon to step into his boyfriend’s line of sight.

 

He could pinpoint the exact moment Jongdae saw him.

 

A flurry of emotions crossed his face, shock and delight being the main ones and then he was launching himself at him with a happy cry.

 

Baekhyun grabbed him into a tight hug, his tears finally let loose, like broken pearls on a necklace.

 

“Hey,” he murmured, squeezing Jongdae harder and his boyfriend gave a choked little laugh.

 

“You .”

 

Baekhyun merely squeezed him tighter, rocking them back and forth, uncaring of the eyes upon them.

 

“I- Am I dreaming?” Jongdae asked when they finally pulled apart, cupping his hand around Baekhyun’s cheek.

 

Baekhyun gave a watery laugh and shook his head, pinching his wrist gently.

 

“No, baby,” he murmured, “you’re not. I’m home.”

 

“,” Jongdae laughed and flung his arms around him again, “, I can’t believe it.”

 

“When- When do you leave? How much time do I have?”

 

Baekhyun slid his fingers into Jongdae’s hair, slotting their lips together briefly.

 

He was smiling so hard as he said his next words.

 

“Never. I transferred to the Seoul academy. I’m never leaving you again, Dae.”

 

“!” Jongdae laughed and yanked him into a crushing kiss, one that made his lips hurt but his heart fill.

 

“You’re really something, Byun Baekhyun.”

 

He murmured against his lips and Baekhyun kissed him again, just to shut him up.

 

No one was surprised when they tumbled into bed together that night in their shared apartment, Jongdae pressing all of Baekhyun’s buttons and Baekhyun just giving right back.

 

“Let me-,” Baekhyun gasped, fingers tugging at Jongdae’s hair and his boyfriend lifted his head from his collarbones to look at him curiously.

 

“Let me top. I want to make love to you,” he said sincerely, enjoying how Jongdae’s eyes rounded, blowing wide.

 

“Be my guest,” Jongdae replied, bracing himself against Baekhyun’s waist. He dipped down and Baekhyun rolled them over, revelling in Jongdae’s breathless laugh.

 

When the sunlight shone into the room the next morning, Baekhyun stirred.

 

He was trapped, under familiar covers and strong arms.

 

It brought a smile to his face when he rolled over a little to see Jongdae’s sleeping form curled up against him as if he had never left.

 

“You’re staring,” a sleepy eye opened and Baekhyun could not resist giving him a peck on the lips.

 

Jongdae’s nose wrinkled and he shifted.

 

“Morning breath,” he grumbled but only cuddled in closer, nuzzling into Baekhyun’s neck.

 

Baekhyun kissed the top of his head, carding his fingers through his hair gently.

 

“I’m sorry for everything, Dae,” he said quietly.

 

They had not talked about the argument yet, even though it did already seem like it had been resolved.

 

But the guilt still nagged at Baekhyun, the words that he had said and the neglect that Jongdae must have felt in his absence.

 

“Hm?” Jongdae cracked his eye open again. He seemed a little more awake this time when Baekhyun shifted him up so that they were face to face.

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said. And I should have called home more often.”

 

Jongdae was silent for a moment before he snuggled closer, pressing a kiss against Baekhyun’s cheek.

 

“You definitely should have. And I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to sound as if I was guilt tripping you.”

 

Baekhyun snuffled, prompting a smile from his lover.

 

“I forgave you the moment I put down the phone,” he mumbled quietly and Jongdae laughed.

 

“And you are forgiven.”

 

He tucked his head into the crook of Baekhyun’s neck and tugged the covers higher.

 

“Now that I have you home, we should sleep in a little longer.”

 

-

 

When are you setting me up on that date?

 

Baekhyun burst out laughing at the text, feeling his lover’s arms wrap around his waist, lips pressing against his shoulder.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Just Sehun demanding his compensation.”

 

He turned to look fondly at Jongdae, stealing a quick kiss.

 

“I’m going to need Jongin’s number.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I’m setting your brother up with my friend.”

 

“BYUN BAEKHYUN!”