Sleep came in snatches, to one of them, to both of them. Chanyeol registered dimly that they should eat, but he was too afraid to let go of Baekhyun for even a moment. Hours passed and morning stretched into afternoon, and afternoon to evening.

Chanyeol woke to the the sun's last rays slanting across mussed blankets and sheets. His cheek lay cushioned on his forearm and his arms were empty. Looking up, he found Baekhyun sitting up beside him against the headboard, eyes straight ahead and hands in his lap. Chanyeol watched the evening light slant across his strong smooth nose, catching on the peak of thin opinionated lips, and shine through long sloping brown eyes that had seen far, far too much.

Those eyes...

Chanyeol slowly drew himself up and sat close to Baekhyun's side, bodies warm where they touched along their arms and legs. He set a hand on top of Baekhyun's where it rested on his thigh, and watched him breathe, and think, and be.

For the first time, Baekhyun hadn't run away from him when faced with a fight. Chanyeol's heart swelled. He wanted to wrap Baekhyun u and rejoice,, but something in the man's face told him to give him time, give him space. Instead, he gave him the first words that came to mind.

"You're still so beautiful to me," he whispered.

Baekhyun's lashes caught the dying light as they flickered sideways. "I never believed you."

"I know." Chanyeol's voice was heavy with sleep. "But you are."

"How. There's nothing left." His voice was hollow and tired. Still better than empty.

"Because. I never loved you for your fiancee, your family, or your job."

"Was it my winning personality." Baekhyun said flatly. "Or the abuse I put you through. Don't tell me it was my scrawny hot mess of a body, 70% alcohol and 30% lies at any given time." Though the words were dull, ironic, they warmed Chanyeol like nothing had in weeks. Baekhyun was in there, bitter and strong as black coffee, under layers and layers of silt and detritus. His world would be forged anew, Chanyeol knew in every fibre of his being that he would find himself and rise again. And that he, Park Chanyeol, would be the one to help him burn bright once again.

"No." Chanyeol wove his fingers through Baekhyun's, palm pressing flush to the back of one fine-boned hand. A powerful, elegant hand, making music, making and breaking careers. But a delicate hand, too, soft-skinned and perfect for holding. "It's... the way your eyes light up when you're passionate about something." Chanyeol spoke slowly. "Your tenacity and drive. Your strength, your vulnerability." He lifted Baekhyun's hand to his cheek, feeling cool fingers unfurl and a palm press to his face. "Your heart that you shared with me. Your fury, your pride." He kissed his palm. "The way you've protected Kai--" Baekhyun made a sound of protest which Chanyeol cut off-- "I know you have so don't waste your breath--even though he's put everything you've worked for at risk."

"How do you know he's the one I'm protecting?" Baekhyun challenged. "I'm not giving up everything for some punk who ruined your life."

"You're only proving my point, beautiful." Chanyeol kissed his knuckles. "Nothing brings you around like accusing you of doing something good."

"Shut up." Baekhyun's brows dipped with a frown.

"Make me." A smile spread across Chanyeol's face.

A pause. "Are you for real right now?"

"Have I ever been anything but real to you?"

Baekhyun's eyes met his and lingered, the sun's last rays slanting through his pupils, rendering them lucent like honey, like light through stained glass. Those eyes stared at him, studied him, sized him up, and Chanyeol was patient throughout his silent survey. At length, Baekhyun's gaze settled soft as a feather on the bow of his lips.

"Should I?" Baekhyun whispered. "Do I deserve to?"

"You've told me to stay as many times as you've told me to go," Chanyeol murmured. "Surely you can trust that I am here because I want to be, asking you to kiss me because I want you to."

"Oh, was it a kiss you expected?" Baekhyun's voice was soft, light, fingers gently e