The first thing the doctors tell him when he wakes up is that he’s injured. They’ve got their hands pressing on his chest to keep him in the gurney, and they’re all shouting so loud that the audio pain blends with the visual of moving ceiling lights; he passes out again.

The second thing they tell him when re-awakes after three-quarters of four weeks in a medically induced coma is that he’s a lucky man. ‘Look at you, Mr. Do, you’re all healed up. You’re real lucky you are, real lucky.’

Yixing is the first person he wakes up to. Technically, he’s the third as he sees the two sweet-lipped nurses first and second, but, Yixing is there. He’s got a sling on his left arm and he’s telling Kyungsoo that he’s torn his rotator cuff and has a screw in the other elbow. Yixing undergoes aggressive therapy after his surgeries; he’s given six weeks to let the tear heal and for the next three months, every three days of every week, he’s under therapy.

‘You’re real lucky, Mr. Do.’

Kyungsoo has PCS -  Post-Concussive Syndrome - after. It’s a minor case, his doctor tells him. Only a few quirks that need to be smoothed. The symptoms that carry are mood swings and depression, the later symptom that comes is insomnia.

He’s sent to therapy and a real nice psychiatrist named Baekhyun with the softest eyes he’s ever seen coaches him through his psychological trauma. During this, the trio - the joint medical center, Baekhyun, and himself - discovers he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. He’s prescribed Prazosin for insomnia and recurrent nightmares and Lamictal for the anxiety.

When he’s sitting in the hospital again, a new nurse prodding at his arm, he looks over at Kyungsoo and smiles, ‘You sure are lucky, Mr. Do.’

Lucky for surviving, lucky because Yixing had to face the possibility of never being able to raise his arm ever again, lucky for remaining intact as one of the passengers of the other car had to lose a limb, lucky because he’s still alive instead of six feet under the ground.

He’s lucky for sure, but the fact that he can’t put his hands on a steering wheel without hyperventilating or fainting is not lucky. Brand him unlucky. The first month after they discovered he suffered from PTSD, they tried exposure therapy but that plan fell through. He screamed and cried every time they tried to put him in a car. When Baekhyun asked how he got to the clinic, he told him he took the bus.

They kept pushing for exposure therapy, the hospital relentless in reassuring their five-stars worth of help. Eventually, Kyungsoo was able to sit in the passenger side of a car. He fidgeted and flinched at every passing car, broke down in tears at every minuscule jerk of the car, but he made it. His knees had been shaking when he stepped out of the car and he felt light-headed, but Baekhyun had hugged him so tight when he got out he couldn’t help but laugh.

And, so, yeah, he was lucky.

His constant insomnia rendered him unable to sleep most nights; the longest he’d gone without sleep was close to two weeks. When he was enrolled in college, he took classes in the dead of night.

People were scarce, so when he fidgeted on the train or bus, no one watched him like a new specimen. They were all too tired to blink a heavy-lidded eye in his direction. He didn’t have to deal with obscurely loud people most of the time; though, there were a handful of times Kyungsoo stepped onto the bus and had to be seated near drunk adults who nagged and cackled like they had speakers sewn into their throats.

Night classes meant ease and healing.

He was majoring in script writing and psychology, so he was always busy. He had a tight schedule that Yixing always complained about. Not enough time to see you, he had grumbled, you’re so nocturnal.

And Kyungsoo couldn’t find it in himself to worry because he was happy with avoiding daytime drives to the campus. The buses ran for night classes only. You can always take the train, Yixing would counter. The train was expensive and they were both college students with minimum wage jobs that can’t afford twenty-four-seven train service. And, anyways, you see me in the apartment.

One morning, Kyungsoo had gotten back around five in the morning to find Yixing nestled on the couch, empty cans of energy drinks spread all around his feet. He looked peaceful all snuggled up but when the front door opened, the look on his face was a mix of frustration and relief.

“Where were you?” was the first thing Yixing had mumbled, the cans around his feet clinging as he walked towards Kyungsoo.

“The bus was an hour late,” and, “why are you still up?”

Yixing had weakly punched him in the shoulder and huddled around him until they were both cocooned in the blanket, “I was up all night worrying about you.”

“You sound like my mother,” Kyungsoo whined as he tried to climb out of the blanket.

Yixing only held him tighter, “You’re an ungrateful , you know? I have two tests at seven and a thesis due at eight.”

Kyungsoo was prepared to sass back like the indigent teenager he was, but Yixing had shushed him as he grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

“How do you know my passcode?”

He didn’t reply, just shuffled through his phone and tapped a few times.When he had handed it back, Kyungsoo had a new app.

“That’s Uber, you don’t have to drive, you just have to sit. Someone will pick you up and drive you to wherever you need to be . . . which is home.”

He played around with his home screen before placing it in a folder for apps he doesn’t use. “How late do they run?”

Yixing smiled as he plopped down onto the couch, flipping through the cartoons on the tv, “I’m sure they have psycho drivers who stay up as late as you do, Soo.”

And that was that.

He hasn’t used the app in a month, nearly two, but he kept it just for Yixing’s sleep.

But, as of now, he’s grateful for Yixing’s dumb maternal pressures. He had stayed behind with his partners in a project to help him with his script. His name was Jongdae and he was unbelievably chatty. Jongdae needed to write an entire chapter for their project, but, in the end, Kyungsoo only helped him write a page of the script because he insisted on knowing what brand of toothpaste he used.

There’s usually a woman at his bus stop that gives him free bus tickets because Kyungsoo gives her food in return; he doesn’t know if she steals them or buys them with spare change, he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the fact that she tells him whether he’s early for the bus.

“You’re late, honey,” she tells him, smacking through a croissant like it’s the last thing she’ll eat. “The bus ran about an hour ago; it’ll be nearly two more hours before it runs back through this part of town, dear.”

She smiles at Kyungsoo like he’s pathetic so he hauls himself back to the library and sits at the table furthest from the doors. He contemplates calling Yixing but it’s nearly four in the morning, so he listens to the nagging voice in his head and opens the Uber app.

It’s a strange, new feel and he navigates the app awkwardly before he manages to sign up. It gives him five options for what kind of treatment he wants, so he picks the UberX option: the everyday type of car that he hopes has an everyday, average driver. He manages to set his location in record time, and the driver’s profile pops up on his phone.

It simply says Chanyeol next to a picture of the driver himself - who has a pretty albeit wonky smile - and what car he drives.

He gets antsy because he doesn’t know how to sit in a car with a stranger. Kyungsoo’s only involuntary response is to call Yixing despite the time.

“Why are you calling me in the piss hours of the morning, Soo?” Yixing sounds groggy and he suddenly feels bad for waking him up. “Wait, you're not home? Why aren’t-”

“I just used that Uber app and I don’t know what to do. You have to help me, Yixing. What if I’m awkward? Or, what if my driver is a serial killer? Do I roll down my window and scream fire or do I call the police first?” He ignores the glares he’s getting from the sleep-deprived students in the library, “What if I this up?”

He can hear Yixing shuffle in the sheets, air conditioning unit on high in the background. He groans and Kyungsoo can see him fluffing his hair and smacking his lips. “Just, you know, be yourself, Soo. My Uber driver barely even talked to me; they usually turn up their music or something.”

Kyungsoo taps the table; his leg is bouncing so quickly he’s shaking the table. “Okay, okay, but where do I sit? Like, in the passenger or is that rude? The back makes it seem like I’m reluctant to talk, you know?”

His phone pings and his driver is eight minutes away.

His heart starts frantically beating. “Yixing, he’s eight minutes away,” he hisses into the phone, “should I bail?”

Yixing’s sitting up now, “Kyungsoo, you need to calm down before you have a panic attack, okay? Just breathe for a few seconds.”

And Kyungsoo listens obediently, syncing his breathing up with Yixing’s.

“You’ll be fine. Just get into the passenger seat and make small talk. Ask what college he’s going to or if he’s even in college. Ask about his major, you know, ask the questions your grandparents would ask you.”

His phone pings again when he’s five minutes away.

“Soo, I’m going to hang up and go back to sleep, okay? Not all of us are insomniacs.”

Kyungsoo’s gripping the table now, “Wait! Yixing!”

“Goodnight, Soo. I love you,” he sings into the phone before the line cuts dead.

More people glare at him when his head hits the desk, but he can’t care as the timer on the app reads three minutes. His heart nearly stops at two, and by one minute, he’s scrambling out the doors of the library.

He huddles in on himself, something he always does that Yixing complains about. It’s a defense mechanism of sorts that keeps him small and out of the limelight. It usually works until someone comes along and -

“Hey, are you,” and the driver stops to look at his phone giving Kyungsoo time to calm himself, “Kyungsoo? I’m Chanyeol, your Uber!”

“Yeah, that’s me,” and the smile he gives feels painful.

He shuffles awkwardly under the library’s awning before easing towards the car. His knees are shaking already, and he can barely grip the handle of the door from how hard his tremors are.

Chanyeol moves around and flicks on the overhead light before guffawing, “I’m sorry, your door was locked, one sec.”

It’s almost as if the gods owe Kyungsoo because he totally didn’t embarrass himself in front of the cutest man he has ever seen. By the way his head is nearly touching the car roof, he can tell Chanyeol’s unbelievably tall and his shirt is low-cut on his arms so Kyungsoo can see his biceps.

He jumps when the doors unlock and Chanyeol cheerily shouts, “You can climb in, now!”

If he notices how badly Kyungsoo’s shaking, he makes no comment.

His feet crush a few cans of empty energy drinks when he finally clambers in and Chanyeol only smiles just a little guilty. “Oh, sorry! My cars a mess; I didn’t have enough time to clean up because customers are unexpected this late . . . or early!”

Kyungsoo laughs awkwardly, “I-It’s okay. I wasn’t really expecting to miss the bus, so this is new to me, too.”

“Just type in your location into here, and we’ll be going!” It takes longer than it should because Kyungsoo’s fingers are twitching and he keeps slipping on the keypad.

Chanyeol’s smile is ever-so-bright even when he turns the headlight off. Kyungsoo grips his seat belt tightly as he starts to drive-off from the library. This seems to catch his attention because Chanyeol looks over at him much to Kyungsoo’s dismay and says, “There’s no need to be scared, yeah? I’m a safe driver.”

He pauses for a minute before he snorts, “Once, I was with this guy and he needed to be to wherever he was going fast. So, I drove fast. We almost got creamed by a milk truck. It was udderly terrifying.”

And Chanyeol starts laughing at his own pun so hard the car starts to rattle. Kyungsoo grows even stiffer at the idea of being in another wreck, a broken sound cracks in his throat.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Are you like, lactose intolerant? Or, scared of cows? I didn’t-”

He manages to lighten Kyungsoo’s mood so much so that he laughs a little. His hands are still gripping the seatbelt, but he’s not so caved in on himself. “No, I’m not . . . I’m not lactose intolerant or afraid of cows, just paranoid.”

“Oh, well, do you wanna listen to music to spruce it up a bit? Calm your nerves a little?” Chanyeol doesn’t wait for Kyungsoo’s response before he’s passing his phone over to him, long fingers brushing over his. His eyes are still on the road but he’s still grinning from ear-to-ear. “Just press shuffle. You can skip any song you want, it’s a mash-up of really anything. Indie, chill, rap, you name it!”

The smile on Kyungsoo’s lips is so dorky that Yixing would be making fun of him. The first song that comes on is a murky chillwave. It manages to relieve some of the tension in his tendons and he can sort of finally breathe properly.

“I’m assuming you’re in college, right? I mean you were in the library.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t really need small talk as it only winds him up more, but Chanyeol sounds earnestly curious so he spares him. “Yeah, I’m, um, majoring in script writing and psychology.”

“Oooh, what field of psychology?” He can hear the smile in his voice, the way the curve of his lips molds his tone. He can read him like he can read Yixing who he’s known for years.

“Um, more so physiological psychology but also clinical. I haven’t really decided yet.” His hand finds the back of his neck as Chanyeol hums in acknowledgment.

He makes a sharp turn that has Kyungsoo momentarily shutting down. Chanyeol apologizes and ushers on to the next topic of interest, “What made you choose to go into that?”

Kyungsoo smiles to himself and clenches his hand into a fist so tight his nails cut into his skin, “That’s kind of a . . touchy subject. A story for another time, maybe.”

The song switches over to a song by Panda Bear. ‘You can count on me’ he croons through the car’s speakers. The car slows to a stop and Chanyeol looks over at him with the same smile - crooked and endearing. “Well, we’ve arrived at your apartment complex. Your fee is ten dollars.”

Kyungsoo’s somehow still shaking when he hands over the cash and nearly trips on his way out of the car. After he shuts the door, Chanyeol rolls the window down and leans over his seat, “I’ll be waiting for that story next time, okay?”

He smiles the entire way up the flights of stairs despite the fact that his knees are quaking and threatening to collapse any second now. He’s jittery when opening the door and as he passes Yixing’s room, he tucks him back into the covers and kisses his temple before whispering his thanks to his dumb maternalness.

Miraculously, he feels the urge to sleep. It’s been five days since he last slept but his eyes are drooping and his fingers numb. Tonight was nice. He can’t stop thinking about the stupid Uber driver’s smile and how he kind of felt safe in a car.

His mood drops a little when he takes his medication. The pills usually vary in colour; this time, they’re baby blue on his tongue.

As he falls flat on his back, the clock reads 4.17 in the morning in pearly green digits that make his head ring.

‘You sure are lucky.’

 

__ _

 

Kyungsoo wakes up at eleven in the morning the same day due to a loud thumping. He doesn’t have class tonight and he was hoping to cherish his sleep, but his next door neighbor is blaring his music so obnoxiously loud it makes the wall vibrate.

Almost as if Yixing can sense his agitation, he shuffles into the room with turmoil twisted onto his face. On any other day, Kyungsoo would coo at him and try to wipe away his wrinkles, telling him he’s too pretty to look so disgusted; however, he’s also been disturbed and so he allows it to pass.

“I see you slept,” his eye twitches before he puts a hand on the vibrating wall, “and woke up to this.” Sometimes, Yixing has a way of sounding like an accusing mother and a disappointed father all at once.

Kyungsoo snuggles further into his blankets; he’s not as annoyed as Yixing is. He thinks Yixing looks rather cute all puffed up and angry.

“It’s your turn to go over and ask him to stop,” Yixing grumbles as the tempo slows but volume increases. “No one else in this Godforsaken building has the decency to report him.”

Kyungsoo thinks the song is quite nice actually, but Yixing won’t stop frowning at him like a middle-aged parent until he gets up and shoves jeans and shoes on.

The apartments on each floor are rather spaced apart, a god four steps until you reach the other door, but the walls are still joined. Their landlord had told them not a lot of people rented out apartments here because it’s out in the middle of nowhere and doesn’t have the discounts the other college apartments do.

She told them that out of the thirty-five rooms on his floor, only ten people resided in them. So, it’s not really a surprise that no one knocks on their neighbor’s door when he blasts his music like he’s hosting a party in the middle of the day.

He regrets not changing his sweater because while it’s freezing in his apartment, it’s rather humid outside. He grumbles to himself as he knocks on the door as loud as he can so his neighbor hears it. This will be his first time seeing his neighbor and he didn’t even have the decency to brush his hair.

Kyungsoo’s about to second guess himself when the door swings open and the music hits his ears full force. It almost triggers his auditory stress, but it’s only music. Just music.

The taller boy offers him a tired glance before tilting his head towards the source of the sound, “Hey, Park, it’s for you!”

Kyungsoo gets antsy but he can see Yixing sticking his head out their door on high alert in his peripheral, so he stands his ground while looking down at his shoes and fiddling with his sweater.

“He-eey, Kyungsoo, is that you?” is shouted over the music. His head snaps up and there is Chanyeol, in all his glory - black sweater like his and sweats on and stupid smile on his face - waving like a maniac.

Yixing steps back a little from their door frame before pressing closer because he’s nosy and constantly worried about him.

“Hi, Chanyeol,” he’s certainly embarrassed that he didn’t brush his hair, “um, I was kind of wondering if -”

“Do you like this song? It played a while after you left. I love it!” Chanyeol has one hand holding the door and the other on the door frame. This is the first time he’s seen him standing and it’s mind-blowing how tall he is; his back is broad yet he is legitimately a dork. He takes up so much space in the door frame that it makes him uncomfortable.

“Oh, yeah, it’s pretty good. I was, kind of, going to ask if you could maybe, you know, turn it down?” He looks over at Yixing who has this unreadable look on his face which is bad because Kyungsoo reads Yixing. “I have auditory sensitivity and my roommate is kind of pissed.”

He ends his complaint with an uneasy, apologetic smile, but Chanyeol shakes his head. “Yeah totally!”

He yells something like, ‘Hey, Sehun, turn the bangin down.’ but gets no response other than the volume lowering to a faint buzz. Chanyeol turns back to him, still smiling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t really know that you had that! I’ll try to keep it down!”

Kyungsoo’s smile is still painful, “Oh, okay. Thank you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol smiles again before shutting his door. Kyungsoo stands there and breathes for a few seconds before turning back to Yixing with his two thumbs up. Yixing says nothing, he just pulls him in the room.

“How does he know you?” is the first thing he says and he suddenly looks more awake than before.

“He was my Uber driver this morning. I didn’t know he lived here, though.”

Yixing eyes him before shuffling away. He turns back and stares at Kyungsoo. A smile breaks out on his face and he pinches his cheeks while cooing. “My Kyungsoo has a crush!”

Kyungsoo scoffs and tries to break free from his hands, “No, I don’t!”

Yixing moves his hands away to wrap them around his waist. He pulls him close and rocks him side to side, “My little baby’s growing up! Look at you!”

He grumbles but doesn’t try to push away, “That’s gross. You’re gross.”

“You’re in loooove!”

 

__ _

 

The next time Kyungsoo uses Uber, he’s taking his drunk friends home. Sort of. Baekhyun and Yixing are piss drunk and he really doesn’t want to have to deal with them in his apartment, so he’s dropping them off at Baekhyun’s rich estate.

It’s a long drive, but Kyungsoo has Baekhyun’s wallet and Baekhyun kind of loves him. He wouldn’t really mind if Kyungsoo used it to pay his fare.

He’s about to click on some driver named Jongin when Chanyeol’s name pops up again. He’s hesitant but Baekhyun and Yixing are literally shoving their tongues down each other’s throats and the sounds they’re making are disgusting, so he clicks Chanyeol’s name lightening fast. He types in three people and watches the little tracker.

His happy profile picture shows up and he smiles back.

When three minutes hit, Kyungsoo shoves the two apart and zips Baekhyun’s pants back up before telling them to behave. They’re both leaning on each other, ditzy as ever when Chanyeol rolls up, and what a picture it must be: Kyungsoo squished between two drunk idiots with a questionable smile on his face.

Chanyeol doesn’t seem to mind as he helps Kyungsoo shove the two in the back and buckle them up.

He’s still shivering when he gets in the car, fingers gripping the seatbelt like it’s a lifeline. Chanyeol puts his chillwave music on shuffle and Kyungsoo puts Baekhyun’s filthy rich address into the GPS.

All is good before Baekhyun begins shouting from the back.

“Kyungsoo, you need to loosen up a bit, friend,” he’s trying to grab at him from behind his seat, “you gotta breathe, pal.”

Yixing seems to sober up as he pulls Baekhyun back into his seat and slaps his thigh pitifully, “Shut up, .”

Chanyeol is clearly uncomfortable when they start making out again. He still smiles over at Kyungsoo who is stiff and still in his seat.

When they reach Baekhyun’s house, Kyungsoo leads the two of them up the steps. He manages to avoid both of their grabby hands and sloppy kisses as he shoves them through the front door. He doesn’t stay long enough to hear the moans.

“So, you said next time was story time,” Chanyeol presses, “is this the right next time?”

And Kyungsoo can’t really say no because Baekhyun was a drunken little who almost spilled it. So he loosens his fingers on his seat belt and scoots further back into the seat. “Okay, um, I don’t know where to start . . . I basically was in a three-way car accident with Yixing almost two years ago.”

He breathes in and tries to calm his nerves and twitches.

“And, one of the drivers died, the other was an amputee, Yixing had a major arm injury, and I only suffered from PCS, which wasn’t too bad. I suffer from insomnia and nightmares now, but they gave me a medication to help sate the night terrors.

“Um, Baekhyun was my psychiatrist and we, um, discovered that I suffer from motor vehicle accident PTSD. I haven’t driven a car in two years, and I can barely sit in one, but this . . . this is okay. I guess.”

A song passes before Chanyeol speaks up, “I don’t really know what to say other than I feel special that you trust me.”

And Kyungsoo laughs long and hard at this, pent up anxiety fizzling out. Chanyeol grins at him and nudges his thigh as he keeps his eyes on the road, “I’ll be your personal taxi, then! We live in the same complex so it’ll be easy! And, I could use a regular customer!”

Their apartment complex pulls into view, orange street lights blotting in the window. He pays with Baekhyun’s card and walks Chanyeol to his apartment. They exchange numbers and he smiles up real soft at him, “Deal, Park Chanyeol.”

After that night, Kyungsoo rarely uses the bus anymore. He still visits the lady and gives her food. He still takes late night classes and crushes energy drinks every time he gets in Chanyeol’s mint green ford focus. He listens to his chillwave music and falls for that dumb smile each time.

Regardless of the fact that their relationship definitely reaches beyond strictly professional, Kyungsoo is still ambivalent about the car. Chanyeol is amazing nonetheless and it’s comforting knowing that he’s static in the way he acts and smiles.

It’s the same static Chanyeol that picks him up from a last-minute date that sort of ended in giggles and tears.

Kyungsoo texted Chanyeol from the bathroom and asked him to pick him up; he even promised to pay an Uber fee because he knew Chanyeol was on shift today. He wouldn’t let Kyungsoo in the car until he promised not to pay him.

“What if she thinks I’m a little , Chanyeol? Like, her totally hot date just bailed on her.”

Chanyeol snorts at him, “What does she look like? We’re still in front of the crime scene, may I just remind you.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t even spare him a glance, “Seriously, what if I just ruined her life? What if she decides to never love again and, instead of getting married, she adopts a bunch of cats?”

He’s leaned all the way back into his seat, head tilted to look at Chanyeol as he stares back. His eyebrows are ridiculously arched on his face and his smile is radiant. Kyungsoo feels like crying because he possibly just ruined some girl’s life, but here Chanyeol is, sitting all prim and proper in his stained t-shirt.

“I don’t know about you, but that sounds purrfect to me.” He begins to cackle when Kyungsoo pouts at him. Kyungsoo is generally worried about his health when he starts to wheeze in between his giggles, tears streaming down his face.

This makes Kyungsoo start to snicker into his hand, “Why’d you think that was so funny? I’ve never seen you laugh this hard before!”

Chanyeol’s still in tears as he pulls out of the budget restaurant, “Why’d you even ditch that poor soul?”

Kyungsoo grumbles and presses further into the seat, “She wasn’t a poor soul, she actually had a lot of money. But, she kept talking to me like she was my sugar momma, or something! All I wanted to do was eat my pasta but she kept calling me baby . . . so I bailed?”

This time, Kyungsoo’s rendered Chanyeol silent which is not entirely shocking because his head is nodding along to a song. “You know,” he says as he takes a turn that isn’t on the way to their apartments, “I’d never turn down a sugar momma. She totally would have paid your way through college and spoiled you with gifts.”

Kyungsoo makes this strange sound that’s almost a whine from the back of his throat before taunting Chanyeol, “You’re a cheapskate, you know that, right?”

He laughs as he skips the current song. It’s by a band named Porches and Chanyeol sings along every time the girl swoons out the word forgive. It’s adorable, tooth-rotting adorable.

“If I were a cheapskate why would I be chauffeuring you around without a fee-”

“Ah! I told you I’d pay you, ,” Kyungsoo hisses.

“-and, taking you out on a date.”

Kyungsoo’s mouth is still open, retort hanging on his lips, but he just sits there and stares at Chanyeol as he bops his head along to the song. Kyungsoo fidgets in his seat as he pulls himself together after the initial shock has passed, and, “What the , Chanyeol?”

For the first time ever, Kyungsoo realizes how attractive Chanyeol’s delightfully dumb smile is, “I’m gonna show you what a normal date is like, for free. No charge.”

“Are you being serious?”

He’s still gripping his seat belt, but Chanyeol reaches over and grabs one of his shaking hands, “Yeah. Just the two of us. A real date between two car buddies, yeah?”

Kyungsoo is still positively shaking and all he can hear is Yixing’s nasally voice singing in his head, ‘You’re in loooove!’ And as Chanyeol helps him out of the car and into the tiny little Italian restaurant right on the verge of Chinatown and Little Italy, he finally stops shaking.

They have small talk over their late lunch and Chanyeol, being the dork he is, tries to speak Italian to him as he flicks sun-dried tomatoes at his face. It isn’t the ideal date because Kyungsoo’s got pasta sauce on his favorite sweater and Chanyeol’s wearing a stained t-shirt, but, hey, it’s alright.

Chanyeol walks him back to his apartment door even though his is the first on the floor. “So, can I look forward to a planned second date?”

Kyungsoo feels like a teenager in love again, all puerile and naive. He’s almost positive he’s blushing insanely, all the way around his face. “Yeah, definitely. No doubt.” He still can’t look Chanyeol in the eyes because no matter how dumb he is, he’s still ridiculously hot and tall and -

Chanyeol is leaning in, bracing his hand against the doorframe behind Kyungsoo’s head. 

“Hey,” he says in a low voice, brushing their noses together. “Can I maybe, sort of, you know, kiss you?”

Kyungsoo can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry, but he finds himself nodding his head along like this isn’t his first kiss ever.

He catches Kyungsoo under the chin and kisses him on the mouth, soft and warm and sweeter than any kiss has a right to be. Kyungsoo aches with it, all the way through the core of him; he grabs a handful of Chanyeol’s stained t-shirt and tries to act like he’s not blushing.

When he pulls back, he hugs Kyungsoo tight.

“I’m real lucky to have you, Soo.”