*Chapter 9;

"Chanyeol's in the hospital, it's just the flu, though," Baekhyun said while changing in the locker room, feeling a little awkward now that everyone's attention was on him... although it wasn't him the others were interested in, per se. "Doctor said he should be better by tomorrow if he takes his meds." and that was all he told them so as not to feed the fire. If he told a bunch of attention-seeking teenagers more than they needed to know, he had a hunch of what kind of gossip he'd hear the following day.

"Hey, Baekhyun said Chanyeol got taken away into an asylum! I told you he was crazy!"

One little fib would turn into viral rumors spreading like wildfire, and Baekhyun didn't want all that attention. After wrapping his muddy soccer cleats in a plastic bag and dumping it into his gym carrier, he hoisted the strap over his shoulder and glanced at the other boys. "Don't spread any stupid gossip around," he warned for the first time, "Give him a break."

Somehow, his attempt at defending Chanyeol sounded more like a plea for some privacy. In any case, it seemed like the message had been delivered, so he left the locker room to head to the hospital, like he had promised Chanyeol. He had spent the night in the recovery room, just helping Chanyeol read and write. By the time all the poems in the pamphlet were read aloud and his name written on several pages of the notepad, it had gotten late and Baekhyun ended up sleeping on the couch. It had been an uncomfortable rest, which was why he had cold patches wrapped around his lower back to soothe his cramps.

The cramps hindered him while he was practicing, and after practice, his muscles ached so painfully that Baekhyun was practically limping on his way. Unfortunately, he still had miles to go and had no pocket change or a bus pass to afford public transportation.

He took a shortcut through a part of the neighborhood he knew really well, although it wasn't the smartest choice he had made. The streets were narrow and there were tons of abandoned houses that made perfect hideouts and hot-spots for gang activities. It wasn't the best place to be without a few friends for company, but Baekhyun was in a hurry, and he wasn't exactly in the right mind to be picky about what route to take, either.

He couldn't get very far before he saw some shady figures congregated below a dim lamp post. They were wearing a different school uniform than he was, although Baekhyun couldn't recognize what area they were from just by the color of their blazers. It was the first time he had seen a mustard yellow uniform, so he figured they weren't from around here.

There were about four or five of them in a semi-circle, some smoking cigarettes and the rest just leaning against the brick wall and taking up walking space in the middle of the street. Baekhyun contemplated taking a detour, but just as he was about to pivot on his heel, he heard one of the street scums call him over.

"Hey, kid."

Baekhyun closed his eyes, then turned around because he was more irritated than scared at this point. He had grown up in worse neighborhoods than this to be terrified of some neighborhood bullies, although he would have been lying if he wasn't just a little bit intimidated by the way the whole group surrounded him in less than a few seconds. They were all taller than him, but that wasn't very surprising since everyone was taller than him.

"Coming back from soccer practice?" the tallest one asked Baekhyun with a -eating sneer on his face, "Navy blue uniforms... oh, you must be our competitor in the season's match."

Baekhyun brushed off the offending hand that came up to touch the badge sewn onto his uniform, the one that showed he was part of the varsity soccer team. "Looks like it. Jeon-Il High School?" he said as calmly as possible since he knew people like the other guy fed off of fear when they picked around for a spineless victim.

Baekhyun had been taught by his dad to never cower in the face of violence, nor raise a fist to anyone. Of course, his father had raised his fist to his mother so many times before, but Baekhyun still believed in a non-violence philosophy and avoided fights no matter what. If there was anything his father had personally taught him through the worst example, it was that violence was only a coward's method of solving problems; Baekhyun didn't want to be a coward like his father.

"I didn't think players from Hye-Seong High came so small, like little elves." the leader of the group snickered, sizing Baekhyun down while the rest of his posse laughed along.

Baekhyun scoffed.

Yes, the players from Jeon-Il High were taller, stronger, and looked like they could pack a pretty powerful punch which made them worthy opponents for the season's match, but Baekhyun wasn't intimidated at all. A person's physical stature had nothing to do with their skill or how well they performed as a team. "Shouldn't all of you be practicing instead of hanging around like sandbox kids?" he snapped, his breath hitching in his throat when one of them grabbed him by the collar so hard that his lungs pressed flat like paper.

He felt his toes lift off the ground a bit.

"Hey."

Baekhyun turned his head slightly to a charismatic, stern tone that penetrated the silence. Thankfully, the other boy set him down again, and he pushed him off with a scowl. The other figure that approached them was wearing the same uniform as Baekhyun was, and it wasn't until the stranger stepped closer to the light that he recognized him. It was Zitao.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the Jeon-Il boys scoffed, pushing Zitao's shoulder back with a firm shove. He did it again, again, and again, until finally Zitao snapped and grabbed the boy's arm, pulling himself in to jab his elbow hard against his ribcage. The boy crumbled to the ground, gasping for oxygen that had left his lungs too fast.

Zitao muttered incoherent phrases in Chinese.

Baekhyun pressed his back into the wall as if he was trying to make himself one with it, then watched as another boy from Jeon-Il lunged at the Chinese transfer student with a raised fist and was cut off like the first, with his arm twisted behind his back. Zitao let him go with a gentle shove, muttered something in Chinese again, then tipped his chin up (he probably meant for them to leave). The gang of students fled with their tail tucked between their legs.

Somehow, when Zitao moved, Baekhyun flinched. He wasn't sure why he had even bothered to save him, especially since they didn't know each other and Baekhyun had been under the impression that Zitao was scary. There was a glint in his slanted eyes that reminded him of murder. Not knowing what to do next, he slowly bowed his head, and Zitao returned the gesture with a surprising modicum of respect.

They just stood there, not saying anything for the longest time before Baekhyun realized Zitao hadn't said a single word he could understand. He wondered if the exchange student even knew Korean.

Before he could ask or at least verbally express his gratitude, Zitao pulled out some keys and opened the front gates of the door right beside him. Then, he was gone. Zitao lived here. In this neighborhood. Chasing those bullies away was probably the same thing as taking out the trash for Zitao.

Baekhyun sighed, figuring he had one too many adventures for the day, and started walking again.

He passed their flower shop on his way to the hospital, and he reminded himself to check in the next day. He had been too busy taking care of Chanyeol and preparing for the season's match that the shop had been pushed to the last of his priorities list. For memory's sake, he opened it again and found that some of the flowers were dying, although most of the ones crammed in the back had already drooped without Chanyeol's care.

"Don't worry, Chanyeol will be back tomorrow," he said to the flowers, then wondered what the hell was going on with him now that he was speaking to the flowers (like Chanyeol often did, which he thought was stupid). Baekhyun made a trip around the shop and cleared whatever dead flowers he could find, then carried one pot under his arm on his way back to the hospital.

It was the last, surviving pot of Baby's Breath flowers.

Chanyeol was watching television and writing down 'Byun Baekhyun' on his notepad several times when he arrived.

"Hey, Yeolkkong," Baekhyun teased, having given the nickname 'Yeolkkong' to Chanyeol the night before. Yeolkong was a popular slang term used by students which meant "studying hard," and Baekhyun thought it was the perfect title to give Chanyeol, just with the extra stress in the last syllable so it sounded cuter. It was even better that Chanyeol seemed to like his new nickname. He set the pot of Baby's Breath flowers next to Chanyeol's bed and dropped his duffel bag on the white tiles. "Studying hard to go to school tomorrow?" he asked, shrugging off his jacket.

Chanyeol stared down at his notepad, then shook his head. "I... don't... want to go to school..."

"Huh? Why not?" Baekhyun asked again, "I thought you liked school."

"I'm... stupider... than the other kids," he smiled so sadly that Baekhyun wasn't quite sure what to feel hearing Chanyeol pour out his feelings to him, "I know that... you think I'm stupid too, because I can't even write my name like other people can and they tease me... They say hurtful things that I'm different and dumb." Snot and tears ran down his face. "I... want to be more like them, Baekhyun. I want... to be more like you."

"Chanyeol..." Baekhyun said, his hands trembling by his sides. He wanted to reach out to him. He wanted to hug his head close to his chest and whisper that everything would be okay. But that was lying. Baekhyun didn't know if Chanyeol would get better, if he could at all.

He hated himself so much when he stepped out of the room because he couldn't say anything. Even from the other side of the door, he heard Chanyeol's sobs, yet it was too high...

The wall between them was too high.

"I want to be more like them, Baekhyun. I want to be more like you."

'I want to be more like you, Park Chanyeol.'