하나

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            His father used to tell him many lies. One day on his younger days, he often fibbed about mystical creatures that would crawl down Kyungsoo’s wall if he didn’t finish his vegetable soup in no time. The lies actually worked, by the way, as Kyungsoo immediately gulped his soup and didn’t even bother to munch the hard boiled carrot for he was too afraid to imagine scary, slippery monster (covered in hot cloggy-mud) appeared behind his window like Spider-Man. Later, when he was finally older enough—and by any standard, smarter enough—he learned not to believe his father’s gabble, one of them was none other than the very recent lie coming from the latter man’s big mouth when he accompanied Kyungsoo to his new school, so easily.

            “It’s the best middle school in here, Kyungsoo!” he gave him his crescent moon smile, and Kyungsoo couldn’t help but whisper ‘put your damn attention on the damn street, Dad, for godness sake’ before making sure his voice was several Hz-s below the normal limit of human hearing, mouth continued to mumble when his Dad, oh those lame glitters on his eyes, put an end to his happy hoots with a confident, “You’ll love it!”

            “That’s because it’s the freaking only middle school in this place!” Kyungsoo really wanted to scream it out loud, alas, he didn’t have the guts to. The ten minutes ride there wasted by his father love story, of how he first met Kyungsoo’s mother in this small, lonely country, of how they went to date one precise hour after confessing to each other, of how their honeymoon also took place in this morose yet absorbing territory, and Kyungsoo merely nodded, acting like he was really into it while, deep inside, he wasn’t. Rolling his round eyes, he turned to his left side, facing the window. For the next twenty seconds, he caught himself staring at the sailing sun—eyes unmoving and Musiq Soulchild screaming beautifully from his slightly bungling earphone.

            The sun in Goseung-gun looked different from that one he’d always seen in Seoul, and by saying different, he meant to say that it looked a lot prettier. Perhaps it was the Taebaek Mountains, he tried to assume, lining gently before his right ear and diffusing some kind of brittle feelings up in the air. Perhaps, it was the awfully misty sky. Or the clear dawn. Or the melancholic country road. Or his Dad’s humdrum tale, or his mother melodic chant, or the delicious breakfast, or the smelly stool of his two tabby kitten’s between the growing grasses beneath his bedroom casement all earlier that morning. Perhaps, it was the combo of everything.

            —Or perhaps, it was just the sight of a broad shouldered young boy, taller than him by an inch or half, small eyes, thin lips, bright brownish hair, seated two rows behind the squeaky table he shared with a boyish—Chinese descent—girl whom didn’t even seem like she cared about Kyungsoo being her new seatmate, and thus he, too, didn’t make any effort to ask for her name until a day later and received a twitchy deep voice answering ‘I’m Amber; Amber Liu’ in process.

            “Who is he?”

            Kyungsoo was somewhere between resolving his math homework and flipping random people when he asked Amber this question. The one he asked stared hard at her own paper, face crumpled; a long wavy cross sloppily drew on its ribbed surface, up to the highest edge and down to the lowest side (she sure really hates math, Kyungsoo summed up); before finally looked up to see through his dilated pupils and playfully asked, “Which one?”

            “Him,” he invited her to follow his gaze, as careful as a thief who doesn’t want to be captured. There was heavy confusion all over her smooth face and Kyungsoo automatically bit his lips. Maybe it’s a big mistake to ask her, he summed up for the second time. But shame on him for thinking about his seatmate like that, to be honest, because turned out that Amber was, in fact, smart in anything besides math. So when she pointed her chin, towards a certain broad shouldered teen laughing mercilessly next to a creepy giant that shortly sent a shiver down his spine, Kyungsoo bowed almost too eagerly, waiting for the handsome girl a step from his portside to go on her unspoken remark.

            “Ah, him?” and nodded again, “he’s—”

            Baek.

            Kyungsoo still managed to grab her answer through the crooning intercom and her furious clamor that beeped of like ‘Oh my God, I haven’t finished my homework yet, what to do? Can I see yours, Kyungsoo-ssi?’ which he replied with a wordless ‘yes’ and his wandering mind about why this place even desired to use Für Elise as its school bell melody.

            Baek.

            They called him Baek. Sometimes they called him Bacon, and Little Wolf, and Puppy, and any other pet names Kyungsoo wouldn’t take pains to remember, but most of the time, they just called him Baek.

            Baek. Baekhyun. Baekhyunnie.

            It was pronounced with a tiny hint of admirance, as if he had saved the entire nation with his long, skinny fingers, not just once. Physically, he was attractive. Small melancholic eyes, thin lips, high cheekbones. Basically, he was in the boundary state between handsome and pretty. And that was why the giant creepy boy, his best friend for your information, whom often time found towering everybody with his signature scary wide smirk, also called him Kkotminam.

            Kkotminam, pretty guy, flower boy—ah, shabby nickname, but somehow Kyungsoo granted a minor ‘amen’ to this one.

            Somehow Kyungsoo couldn’t keep himself to comply.

****

            Kyungsoo wrote their encounters on a wrinkled brown paper.

            For example:

            11:30. Day one, we were staring at each other. I expected him to join his friends who were busy asking for my bios, but no. He passed through the small crowd around my seat, glaring. I didn’t know why. He didn’t have to do that.

            9. 2. Day two, saw him struggling at the canteen entrance. I helped him pass his lunch tray and he didn’t thank me (he ordered a set of hot ramyun and mineral water). Weird. I’d do the same if I were him. Thanking someone you faintly know is kinda maddening.

            0, 5. Day three, his giant friend stared at me again. This time, he stared at me for straight five minutes. Last time, he stopped at two, and now he already dared to continue it ‘till five. Five, for God’s sake! I need to talk about it with Jongin. He. Was. Really. Frightening.

              —And the list went on.

            He remembered the moment so precisely because he was just so good with his memory. First of all, he’d write down numbers. They could be referring to second, or day, or hour. Next, he’d begin to write his words with letters. He’d write it in order, without doubt, that when he ate something before going to bathroom, then off to sleep, he’d really write ‘Last night, I ate something first before going to bathroom, then off to sleep’. How many people in this world could do something like that? He had no idea. Probably somewhere between hardly any, and too many.

****

            To this small, secluded district, Baekhyun is a blessing—and Kyungsoo didn’t have to prove his crude theory because—

            Because he could already feel it. The presence, the radiance.

            The similar scent found in everyplace he stepped his feet into, as though each solitory corner of this territory—the tad-sad blue horizon just above Hwajinpo Lake, the fleeting season, the branchy pathway—was specially made for that black outline of his small puppy eyes, skinny back, playful resonant laugh—

            “You’re staring at Baekhyun again.”

            “I-I’m not!”

            “You are, Luna-yah, come on! Don’t hide your feelings!”

            “But I’m nooot!”

            Park Sun-Young was laughing with her friends under school's pine trees. He didn't remember how he ended up gazing at their direction, he only knew that he was really tired from running about three miles and had no choice but to overhear bunch-of-popular-girls talk while waiting for his muscle cramps to recover. He was never good at physical education, sadly, and P.E. class in this place was beyond terrible compared to Seoul. “That Baekhyun guy,” he nudged his knee to Amber’s; somewhere along the way in the past two weeks, they’ve gotten this close to bump their knees at each other, “is he always this popular?”

            “You mean Baekhyun-ssi?”

          Gurl, please, I don’t remember talking about another Baekhyun. On top of everything, isn’t he the only person named Baekhyun in this school, or perhaps even, this village. “Yes.”

            “Yah!” she screamed in a deep voice. “You have no idea.”

            “Actually, I do. A bit.”

          “Everybody loves him," she looked down at the curve of Kyungsoo's exposed calf, grunting a low 'what a pretty sight' before adding, “We’ll, he can be such a pain in the sometimes, but everybody loves him. Or his voice. Or both. To us, he’s a blessing.”

            “A blessing?”

            “It’s somewhat exagerated, but you get my point.”

            Kyungsoo shook his head. “No, no, I don’t. I don’t get it. I do have the idea that he’s really loved and famous and all, but I don’t get the reason why. I mean, that giant guy,” he still didn't know his name, nor did he prefer to, “is absolutely more handsome, yet all I ever heard these flowing weeks is just Baekhyun, Baekhyun, and Baekhyun.”

        A momentary pause, she scratched her itchy hair with a pink rubber band, “Because his scent resembles this place?” and shrugged. “I don’t know, the clear sky, the zig and zag country road, the cold misty air, they somehow match him very well. Besides, he’s smart. And, oh, funny. And don’t get me started with his voice.”

            There echoed high-pitched yell from mini soccer-field next to them, and soon after, Baekhyun's name was everywhere. “Is it really beautiful?” Kyungsoo asked, eyes focused on the thin figure of a specific Byun dude who was being (happily) carried by his giant sidekick. Park Sun-Young's girly laugh rang two notes louder.

            “Hm, you Seoul people may think elseways, but to us, it is. Ah! Now that I think about it, his mother do play special part.”

            “Pardon me?”

            “His mother, Taeyeon-ssi, haven’t you heard about her?”

            “Wait, my parents once mentioned her name,” he attempted to retrace, “uhm I’m not sure.”

          “Yeah, same with Baekhyun, to us, she’s also a blessing—her voice is a blessing. She was a really talented singer. Fresh, pretty, youthful. Everybody loved her. Maybe she was a girl version of Baekhyun—with a pair of larger eyes, of course. That, until after she married Baek’s father about... fourteen years ago. Mr. Junsu or something. She was just eighteen at the time.”

            “That’s too early!”

            “Right? And unfortunately, the marriage doesn’t last long.”

            “Oh,” said Kyungsoo, startled. “And the reason was?”

            “Simple. He cheated.”

            He didn’t ask any further.

****

             Somebody, a boy, said, “The name is Byun Baekhyun.”

            Kyungsoo tilted his head, surprised because he wasn’t expecting anyone to approach him in the middle of his lunch. “... I know.”

            In his apathy, he heard the man in front of him laughing, his lips clashed with the opening of fresh milk bottle. His face was one-of-a-kind—Kyungsoo came to this conclusion while examining the stranger face and chewing on his cold noodle at the same time—protruding cheekbones, curled up lips, high feline eyes, all well arranged at its place to the extent that it reminded Kyungsoo of those literal felines themselves. At some point he began to close his eyes for unknown reasons and opened them again just to burst into another giggle. This, however, only made Kyungsoo’s frown deepened. Not like he ever took down that infamous scowl since his transfer here to begin with.

            “I’m Jongdae,” said the stranger man as he offered his right hand. Kyungsoo created a minor gasp, not sure whether it was alright to accept his introduction or not. “You can call me Chen, though. I like it better that way.”

            But he welcomed it anyway, and soon after, their hands connected. There was something with the way he intertwined his fingers to Kyungsoo’s that annoyed him. “Uh—uh, I’m Kyungsoo.”

            “I know,” Jongdae let out a small chuckle, as expected by the look he gave Kyungsoo a second earlier. “Come on, we’re not in the same class, but you’re pretty popular.”

            “Ah... okay?”

            He nodded and leaned forward to murmur, “See that giant loser over there?” the loser part was pronounced very carefully, as though it would have been wrong for him to express it any other way; his forefinger was directed at a certain table to the northwest side of this school cafeteria. Kyungsoo’s already round eyes turned even rounder when he noticed that that giant loser the man afore him was talking about was the same giant who had sent a shiver down his spine these previous ten days. “That’s Chanyeol,” he said, “along with Baekhyun, we’ve been good friends since kindergarten.”

            Kyungsoo hummed, looking back to his lunch and pressed his right hand on the chopsticks, but before long, he had the nerve to steal another glance at the said giant. Watching. Checking. Examining. Kyungsoo loved doing any of that—the watching, checking, and examining thingy, because he needed not to utter his mind and just played along with his big, spherical orbs. From his silent perspective, Chanyeol was, well, tall. He was really, really tall for boys his age. His black hair was cut too short, hung above the cute forehead and dark eyebrow. He always wore tacky cap, Kyungsoo remembered—perhaps because of his hilarious harcut; who wouldn’t, for sure—usually red colored and he would wear it sideways or backwards. The combination was bad, ultra bad that, back in his old school, it could be addressed as embarrassment instead, and Kyungsoo wondered why he ever got scared by the now-smiling-at-him creeper. Maybe because he was rather sensitive, in a bad context, with tall and slender people. “Speaking of which,” Jongdae broke the silence between them, “I have Baekhyun baby pict in my wallet. Wanna catch a glimpse?”

            In the name of every little microscopic thing under his tapping black shoes, Kyungsoo greatly wanted to.

            “N-no, thanks. I’ll pass.”

            “Well, that’s bad, considering how much you like him.”

            “Wha—,” Kyungsoo shrieked, “what makes you say—”

            “Your face,” and Jongdae calmly answered. After a brief moment, he limned an imaginative circle around Kyungsoo’s nose and added, “It tells all. I caught you looking at him all the time. Well that’s gross, though, I’m not into guy-and-guy—but you’re cute. I’ll forgive you.”

            “—that? Oh... But I don’t—”

            “Say, instead of sitting alone, you can join our table.”

            “—like him like that... N-nah, I prefer being here by my—”

            “It can’t be that you’re nervous? Relax, dude, Baekhyun isn’t the type to judge. He’s single, I’m telling you. He’s single, and as far as I concerned, he’s also flexible. A shining chance there!”

            “—self, thanks any—”

            “Come on, it wouldn’t be that bad.”

            “—way; God, Jongdae-ssi can’t you at least let me finish my sentence!”

            One. Two. Three. Kyungsoo waited for what was to follow from his interlocutor’s loud voice, but nothing happenned. Jongdae’s mouth clamped shut, hands covering its domain as if convincing him that he wouldn’t convey any sole syllable. Kyungsoo rested back to his position; lunch break was still quarter-hour to go. He took this opportunity to adjust his school blazer and brush the corner of his lips. Feeling better after sipping his cold milk tea, he finally sighed and said, “Firstly, Jongdae-ssi, I don’t like him. At all.”

            “But I saw you with my own eyes—,” Jongdae was in the verge of moving his jaw downwards, to be stopped in the middle by Kyungsoo’s shaking head.

            “No. I don’t like him,” Kyungsoo clarified, harder this time, seemingly disturbed. “At least not in the way you wanted to believe. Secondly—”

            “Chen, you’re not eating here?”

            At first he wanted to snap at his companion for interrupting his phrase for the unumbered times, but dang that voice, he realized, didn’t belong to someone around his table. It was absolutely not Jongdae’s. Jongdae’s voice didn’t sound like that. His was lighter and crispier, whereas this one got a heap of husky flavor within. The funny thing is, he somewhat recognized the glorious harshness the time that person finished the sentence, there left a soaring tune of allurement behind. Somehow his voice (his, since, although Kyungsoo wasn’t assuredly positive to whom the tone actually belong, it was clear enough that the owner was one hundred percent male, judging from the deep resonance and rugged pitch) sounded much familiar to Kyungsoo’s vibrating eardrums than it should ever be.

            He patted the top of his autumn uniform and stretched to see through the legitimate holder of that mysterious voice.

            There, for a moment, Kyungsoo froze.

            “Bingo! Baekhyun, this new kid wants to tell you something!”

            It was the same boy he thought he’d never have the fate to talk to. The same broad shoulder, the same saccharine almond eyes, the same cold, arrogant, haughty stare. A glistening skinny hairpin attached nicely to his lush bangs; the straight metal hiding some of his silky chestnut lock from Kyungsoo’s scope, all together, giving him better access into his pair of warm iris. Those iris, the color of chamoise (or was it mahogany, and taupe, and almost amberish—was amberish even a legit word, he pried), gleamed under the noisiness of that green and yellow painted canteen, even more appealing with a small amount of perspiration below his mono-eyelid. Sat on his right was Chanyeol, mouth dropped open. He looked as if he had been slapped by his newest girlfriend. Now that Kyungsoo gained back his consciousness, he understood the look Chanyeol presented him at the very moment was due to Jongdae’s prior comment about him wanted to tell Baekhyun ‘something’. Ah, so that’s why he, and Baekhyun, and the rest of people in this square room, were looking at me so awkwardly, and just like that, he made a mental note to hate Jongdae for the rest of his middle school life.

            “No, he was lying,” Kyungsoo said with a serene laugh, speaking towards the peering crowd. “I do not—”

            “What is it?”

            Kyungsoo peered back at the crowd, they all now were blinking at him.

            “Hey, new kid,” Baekhyun  repeated, “what is it?”

            “As I said, Baekhyun-ssi, he was ly—”

            “Chen never lies.”

            The object of their heated discussion smiled in triumph. Kyungsoo couldn’t help but to glare at him in vacant annoyance.

            “Yeah, probably,” he was still glaring, “not until now—”

            “Chen never lies. He’s my best friend. He never lies,” but Baekhyun was so persistent, and he found it really cute. “Just spit the truth, what is it?

            Kyungsoo’s head was starting to hurt. He looked around, searching for any revelation that could support his alibi, but except for a small, ugly painting of Little Red Riding Hood and Wolf in that canteen, he discovered none. There were many prettier painting hanging on its lotus patterned wall, but come what may, this ugliest piece was the only one that managed to pull his attention. How come, he questioned, among the recurred image of mountains and flowers by most of first grade middle school students, lived an drawing about a half Little Red Riding Hood kissing a blood-coated grey Wolf? Though the painting itself was nothing special, and a bit cringeworthy, Kyungsoo wouldn’t mind to give extra points for the awesome idea. He was active in art club, anyway, so it was no tough matter to presume that the creator of this messy little painting had no exact experience with color blending. The gradation was very much raw, and to this, there written a sloppy name on the lowest corner.

            Little Red Riding Hood,

            Met a hungry wolf in the stomach of spooky wood.

            —June ‘9, Byun Baekhyun.—

            “I like you.”

****

            “I like you.”

            As soon as the words emerged from his lips, Kyungsoo wished he had magical powers to turn the time back.

****

            Or just a chance to run all the way to Seoul and vanish in a one smack.

****

To be continued

Author's notes:

I'M SOOO SORRYYYY! It has been a very, very, unfortunate month. My Dad was in hospital for the 2nd week already, and I had exam. I tried to update my fics as soon as I found the chance to, but I haven't got any until now ;___; so sorry for my messy update, I wrote it in a rush, about 4-5 hours without checking the spelling and grammar. Not that my spelling and grammar are good, tho ;___;

But tbh, I really enjoooyed writing this fic. Maybe because the genre is young-adult and I could use any sloppy word I want to describe our sassy BaekSoo ^^ speaking of Kyungsoo, I really wish for him to recover soon. It hurts to see him this fragile. He was so small and squishy and I can't with him being playful while walking on crutches, like baby stooop it, you tried so hard to assure us that you're okay ;___; anyway, Baekhyun will make more appearance at the next chapter! I intend to update it soon after my Looking For: Byun Baekhyun oneshoot, to pay off my late update, and I hope you all still want to read it ^^

Thanks!

Love, Ainihaya

p.s: Please leave your review :)