Two;

“How am I supposed to act around him, now that I know he is blind?” Metal and rust reeks as Chanyeol muddled over Suho. He pushed in his books, a pair of English and Math in a flood of Science relatedness, and closed it—seeing the airways of their lockers look suffocated, he tried not to look at it.

“What do you mean by ‘act’? Is there anything wrong with you knowing that he was blind?”

“I find it very awful—“ he lowered his head, staring at the tiles and dust mosaic “so I think I’ll be sensitive around him that might make the both of us awkward—or make him feel even worse.”

Suho follows to close his locker and looked at Chanyeol, perceiving a long hallway with a large light source at the far end, everything uncomfortably warm.

“Then pretend you don’t know that he is blind.”

The sound of a lock like buried knife clicked around the dismissal hall. Thursday afternoon calls off classes early, and how they all wish everyday was like this. Chanyeol and Suho walked away—thinking of grabbing some slushies at a near convenience store—with their silhouettes growing slimmer and darker as they walked through the light.

————∞————

One cold evening came in and drowned the skies in dark black ink, yet stars displayed themselves like paper flakes confetti. Soft fleece and denim rubbing against pale skin, warmers perfectly inserted in each of five fingers, palm with cheers of accomplishment. As days had passed it has been staple for mornings to be hot and evenings be the complete opposite. Korean time was at the middle of summer and winter equilibrium, all hopes on not to get sick because of the sudden changes.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol waited for Suho outside the flower shop. Suho was busy at the inventories, and Chanyeol wasn’t heading home because Suho wanted them to walk all together.

He’ll have those quick single glances on Baekhyun, fearing that he might notice if he’ll stare too long. But Chanyeol couldn’t get enough of the young masked brunet—browns and pale beiges, flowery eyes and shiny nose, lips of nectar juice and presence of a mere butterfly—his face of beauty and attractive addiction.

“It’s cold right? Really unexpected during sweaty mornings.” Baekhyun comments, fog blowing out of his mouth—the 12°C is truly surprising since it was two times hotter than six hours ago. His hands were both tucked in, and he was playing with his fingers to prevent it from numbing. He blows air another time before facing Chanyeol, who appeared normal yet so silent for him.

“What course are you taking?” Baekhyun speaks another sentence in a distance of the store door, both of them leaning on each window.

Chanyeol puffs and looked at Baekhyun with his lids dimmed, “Human biology.” his teeth and jaws visibly shaking.

Baekhyun giggles and walked slowly towards Chanyeol after hearing some teeth chattering—pulling out his hand and feeling the surface of the window. Chanyeol slightly gasps and trembled as he saw Baekhyun took one step closer every second. His body started feeling funny and his knees were dancing, but he couldn’t pull back.

Baekhyun then takes his other hand out of his pocket and touched Chanyeol at the neck, his hands slowly advanced to Chanyeol’s face, touching nerves and bones for guide—rubbing wool on his skin.

“My mother used to do this to me too whenever I feel cold.” Baekhyun smiled as he cupped Chanyeol’s cold cheeks. Chanyeol felt unexplainable as he feels heavy on the jaw, but looking straight in to Baekhyun’s innocence made him think of the opposite.

Chanyeol always felt awkward because he feels pity for Baekhyun. He thought of it all night after knowing his true condition, on how it is to be blind and be visionless of the world. Somehow, he couldn’t be in his position—even closing his eyes never helped. And he did realize that being like Baekhyun would somehow be really hard; heartbreaking.

Chanyeol looked down, and smiled. Those thoughts radically changes everytime upon Baekhyun’s presence. Through his smiles and actions, he will never be mistaken for a person of pain and discomfort of his situation. He rather shows love, happiness, strength and contentment.

“Yeah.” He agreed after a long pause, raising the right corner of his mouth. “I do feel warm.”

Their breaths shared the same oxygen as they were really close to each other. But, of course, Baekhyun doesn’t notice it. So it was logically acceptable for Chanyeol.

Baekhyun’s smile displayed wide, marking a few fine lines on his young face. He removes his hand after a few seconds, placing back his hands back to the pockets, playing with it again.

The store from the light turns off, and the door chime rang as Suho went out and locked the door.

“Woah! It’s cold outside!” Suho jumped in as he went close to the two, both of his hands tucked in between his underarms, back slightly bent like low bridges.

“Come on.” Suho invited and looked at Chanyeol and Baekhyun, and leaded the way home.

Suho twisted the bronze plate knob, in a smooth sound of apricot and mahogany swung open Baekhyun’s door. It slowly framed the inside, and Chanyeol was stunned by the display—multiple bright yellow strings are curved all around the house, like thin folds of curtains or Rapunzel hair fall crime.

Suho noticed Chanyeol’s jaws drop, laughing as it was his exact first impression of the scene before. They both watched Baekhyun enter his home, running his fingers at all furniture in contact. Suho then pulled Chanyeol to his side and whispered, “The strings are for Baekhyun’s navigation. He’s used without it though, but he didn’t want it to be removed.”

As Baekhyun went on to a comfortable mood, said that he was doing fine and thanked for the walk, Suho and Chanyeol went on to their own homes after.

Chanyeol still felt a little bit awkward, albeit Baekhyun was straight-forward when it comes to him—it made him fit in to a little assurance that hanging out with him would be a thumb up. But that wasn’t really the issue, he always has those skipping heartbeats obviously concluding that he likes Baekhyun. He didn’t know how, but the way they first met, and how now he sees his face almost every day makes him feel better throughout a day. He was sure of his feelings, so he’s doing his best to make it less obvious. That is why sometimes he can’t speak, and he won’t interact with Baekhyun. But he was improving, somehow improving.

————∞————

Saturday cafés offers weekend treats and their brews would taste fine in the cold morning. Sliding cups and busy counters displayed the scene of vintage-rusty breaks. The browns and orange citrus ambience was musky and romantic—it draws people in to an environment of something between nature arôme and outdoor campfire cookies. It was really cold so Baekhyun decided not to open the shop, and let the three of them just enjoy a little day off. No school, no work, no stress, just coffee beans and cinnamon apple pies.

“The day I bought a flower from your store—“ Chanyeol speaks, cutting as he reaches for a tray of hot milk. “Baekhyun really made me a bouquet—before my very eyes!” He tells in exclamation, but only between Suho’s ears. Remembering how blinded Baekhyun flawlessly pulled out a bouquet of daffodils and little daisies, with thin branches of olive and apple trees, all clothed in shiny gold plastic and fabric.

“Was it beautiful?” Suho ask, laughter almost coming out of his lips, carrying a tray to their table.

“That makes it worse; it is!” Chanyeol continued, he really sounded he didn’t believe what he saw at that moment after knowing that Baekhyun was all sightless at that time.

They reached their table, dropping two trays: one for three hot milks, and one for three slices of peach shortcake and trio lattes. Baekhyun remained seated as they ordered, habitually touching wooden tables and furniture. Maybe he likes doing it, Chanyeol said to himself, slightly nodding at nothing.

“You two were talking. What was it about?” Baekhyun asks as he chews his peaches—crème softly pillowing his tongue—shocking the two.

Suho and Chanyeol looked at each other, confused and surprised at Baekhyun’s sudden question. They were whispering at each other, mixing coffee aroma and tropical fruit perfume between their breaths.

“Ah, yeah. We just talked about this cake.” Suho lied and he looks at Chanyeol to press his ring finger flat on his lips.

Chanyeol nodded as response. “Yeah, its—sweet.” Chanyeol added to their little sin.

After an additional cupcake order, Suho comes back from the counter, ears flapping like wings.

“Guys.” He approached his company, eyes pinned at his phone. “I forgot I still have an important school work left. I have to rush there now.”

“Right now?” Baekhyun gasps, touching Chanyeol at the shoulder.

“Yes,” Suho grabbed his bag by the strap and swung it quickly on his left shoulders—feet already propped a step forward towards the exit, “right now.”

The two—technically one—watched Suho go out of the café, leaving the both of them in an aura of discomfort, totally dismaying the mix of elegant ambience. Baekhyun coughs, Chanyeol coughs. The two didn’t know how to start the lamp between the both of them. Maybe a conversation starter, or just talk about leaving the place and go home.

But obviously the two won’t. They both wanted to be together.

The both decided to have a walk on the beach, just to enjoy the last warmth of the dying season. The shore wasn’t populated, and the waves were calm and silky. It was the best time for the both to enjoy a sound moment just once—away from the city.

Chanyeol guided Baekhyun to a large rock at the waters, and they seated on it, watching the sun setting into deep violets and bright oranges. The stars at the upper sky also appeared, curtaining the sky in Christmas lights imitate and twinkling jingles—a perfect view for the two.

“This place is beautiful.” Baekhyun tells Chanyeol as they throned over the large cobalt rock, his ears listening to the whistles of the pale green grass just above the shore.

“I wish you can see this, though.”

“So you know?”

Chanyeol clasps his lips tightly, scolding his clumsy tongue for spoiling such secret he nearly had to safely keep. But it was too late to turn the words away, as Baekhyun shifted his look to Chanyeol, question marks all over his expression.

“I guess so.”

“But—have you never been here ever before?” Chanyeol asks, his hands open at his sides, touching the wind that pushes through them.

“Never, but that doesn’t really matter.”

Chanyeol, confused, turns to the other with trembling hands, as his lips slowly form letters and words were tensing.

There are moments when Chanyeol felt extreme happiness, like when his parents gives him a toy at eight, or when his classmates got all their money together to throw him a little party at the playground at twelve. He’ll always have that wide and up-to-ear smile that shows his true emotions. He never felt different, as he knew he was a lucky man who had live to be appreciated. But he doesn’t hold to that thought, and just placed in his mind that life was indeed beautiful.

“Because I’m already here, with you.”

And the voice that formed that sweet sentence broke Chanyeol’s frozen body, and took the shards away with the wind. His neck and shoulders were heating—yet they feel funny and ecstatic. He was happy that he gave Baekhyun a single opportunity to have something he never had before.

“Thanks for bringing me home.”

The petit stands before his wooden door, the light perfectly shadowing his features. The night was deep, but it was a good choice to walk all the way home. They had conversations about many things, like orchestras, cartoons, turtles and cotton candy.

Baekhyun places his hand on the knob, but pauses as he felt something was still missing—there was a gap that needs to be filled to complete the day.

“Chanyeol.” Baekhyun calls, hands still on the knob.

Chanyeol responded with a hum, and turned back to him as he was already thinking about walking away. Baekhyun pulled back his hand and turned around, walked a few steps down to Chanyeol. All of a sudden, Baekhyun’s hands came flying to Chanyeol’s nape, pulled, and received a short kiss from Baekhyun.

“Good night.”

Baekhyun came running inside his house, slam shut the door.

Chanyeol was left frozen, his fingers on his lips. The other’s kiss left a mint feeling on his lips, like cigarettes or vodka. He didn’t know how to react, and he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he could barge in and confess that he loves him, but it maybe wasn’t the exact time. Maybe eleven o’clock isn’t the time as tomorrow still exists.

————∞————

Saturday came as a fine day, breezes and sunshine mixing well together like coffee and milk and the eyes of the people glitters in their aluminum spoons, river waters and glass domes. The birds sang a morning song under a porch in a big maple tree. The calmness and peacefulness was deeply relaxing, a perfect therapy for Chanyeol’s cancer patient, Luhan.

It has been a long time since Chanyeol had been working as a caretaker. He only works on weekends since Luhan has his own regular caretaker, but has to leave every Saturdays and Sundays—more of like replacement. But even in a short schedule, he had formed such good relationship with the patient, doing handshakes and sharing dry jokes and SNL skit reenacting. Luhan was a down-to-earth and very gentle person, undeniably pleasing to all.

Despite his condition, Luhan was still a man of faith. He wakes up everyday thinking that he had to see the sunshine lit in his face every single day, but if he may not be doing it anymore, he’ll be happy—he’ll be contented. But in his remaining time, he tries his best to make others happy because that affects him so much as a person of cancer. He also wishes to visit his parents in America one day, before everything ends for him.

He blinks and looks to Luhan—green plastic gown, hands lying on the supports of his wheelchair.

“Ah, the sun feels so good.” Luhan joyfully states, as the light focuses on him, with birds and branches shadowing some of his features. Chanyeol smiled at him, and felt the same happiness.

As he was watching Luhan, reminding himself of everything he is, he ran over a question on his mind.

“Luhan-hyung, what is more burdensome? A cancer patient like you or a blind person?”

Luhan slowly lowers his head, and turned his wheelchair around—looking at Chanyeol who was jaws sharp, slightly angled at the right, looking at maple and grass, down-mouthed and eyes are visibly sad.

“Well, of course a blind person.” Luhan answers, his hand reached for Chanyeol’s.

“A cancer patient can see the beauty of the world even if he’s life is at stake, and a blind person can never have that opportunity.”

“But—” Chanyeol shouts, startling the other, almost moving his wheelchair away.

Chanyeol calms down—his head as low as the ground—and knelt in front of Luhan. “But there is a way right?”

Luhan breathes in nature’s air and fresh scent, and ruffled his caretaker’s soft hair. “If a transplant would happen—I’m sure that’s the only way.”

Chanyeol hears his answer, but he wasn’t comfortable enough to respond back. He hugged Luhan at the stomach, his tears were falling. Luhan couldn’t blame Chanyeol for being affected, placing his hands on his back and rubbed it.

“I’m sorry, Chanyeol. You don’t have to be—but thanks.”

“Thanks for your precious concern.”

He looks back at the sun, almost covered by the traveling clouds of the south. The birds migrated to another tree, their voices lowering at the distance. The warmth was overwhelmed by the breezes, yet the younger’s tears felt hot on his skin. He breathed in nature’s air and fresh scent, and ruffled his caretaker’s soft hair—wishing everything was okay with him.

————∞————

New mornings tastes like over-aged tea and mould plum—it was different from those sunny magnified bed wake-ups—though the incident isn’t that bad, yet it is quite lonely to be left for a while. The reporter on the morning news show sounded irrational—car crashes, heavy traffic, bad weather at Fahrenheit, and infant milk scum. Baekhyun reclines on his bed, two pillows supporting his back. Rubbing his eyes, feet hugging the cold sheets, and ears attentive of the voice on the television—he touched a piece of paper on his tummy as he hugged himself, slowly slipping on to his covers.

“Regular classes are tighter, I might be temporarily moving closer to school. Take care, Baekhyun. Please seek Chanyeol if you need help.”

The letter reads sad and goodbye, even it was only for those who sees, but Baekhyun felt a series of bumps on the paper, knowing that Suho used the braille stamp.

His head felt a little heavy and aching, and his eyes are slightly burning. He went to the bathroom barefoot, flushed his face with cold water—entire ironical actions for the cold Sunday—but it somehow soothed the pain.

The windows were frosted and he smells the room as like hotel carpet and poster paint. He couldn’t do much since he was blind, but he felt easier than those who really see. He had never been in problems such as the one that a normal person encounters. But avoiding problems means he was also avoiding the beauty of neutralism. That was his envious desire: to see the world, even once, just to see how great all things are.

Yet working in a flower shop and hearing Suho describing each of their daily walks already gives him a slight taste of the visible world. He pretends he sees them, and it works just fine as how he touch, smell and hear it.

Staring blankly at he guessed as the window where all the cold comes from, with a jar of plumcot on his hand and a book about navarino on the other, a knock on his door awakened his wandering mind. He blinks a couple of time and breathed normally—as he forgot how to for a moment—directed himself to the door.

He names each room he walks to, as he know that they each have a unique feeling. That’s why he stopped using the strings, ought to make him look normal. He opens the door and immediately felt a familiar presence, the stain of cotton, leather, warm jackets and shampoo; it must be—

“Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol moans as a greeting, sounding like he’s depressed, lonely or somehow intoxicated. He tries his best to hide his ashamed face—and a big load on his back—even though no one can see it only if he looks at the mirror, but he bet Baekhyun can feel it easily.

“Baekhyun?” He calls the other’s name, toned in asking for permission for something—sniffing constantly.

“Come in, first. You might catch a cold.” Baekhyun pulls him inside by the arm, closing the door next, and escorted him to his sofa.

Baekhyun returns with a coffee on both of his hands after a few moments, and Chanyeol quickly hands on one, sipping in without hesitation.

“Thanks.” He talks after almost finishing the cup, leaving a little allowance of brown liquid on his white cup. White skies and bright trail lights covered the city, almost making the outside of the window in front of them look like it was facing a white wall. Baekhyun, in the other hand, puts his drink down, probably he wanted it to be just perfectly warm. He places his hand on his crossed legs, propped his brows and looked at Chanyeol.

“What is it you’re about to say?”

“I—uh.”

His stuttering words made him look at Baekhyun like a poor puppy—bones sharp on his chest, large white knitted sweater covering him completely. His eyes were not directly looking at him, but he was obviously waiting for an answer.

“I can’t pay my rent now.” He hushed—looking at his back where a couple of big bags lying behind Baekhyun’s umbrella rack—hard for Baekhyun to hear.

“You’re here to borrow money?”

“If possible.”

Chanyeol believes he makes enough money for himself, but whenever his rent expense draws in, everything goes dramatically insane that he loses control of it. He could have moved somewhere else, but he can’t since it’s the only place where a certain someone lives close by.

“I wouldn’t do this, if he only knew it is for him.” Chanyeol whispers to himself, looking at his legs.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Baekhyun said after a buffer, his face still straight.

“But—“ Chanyeol fights for his favor. “But I need money, or else I’d live nowhere.” He resonates, almost standing tall at Baekhyun.

“Is that true? You’d live nowhere?” Baekhyun questions, a slight smirk on his mouth.

“Y—yes. Why? Is there any other place I could stay? Suho is out of town, you’re the only one I could run to.”

“Stay here, with me.”

Chanyeol silences after hearing those words.

“It’s true that Suho is out of town, and I have no one to walk me to the flower shop every day. Could you take his place?” Baekhyun stands with Chanyeol, his eyes accurately looking at the other’s.

“I—uh.”

The same words of stutter came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t deny himself anymore. Baekhyun threw a hug to him, his face felt electrifying on his chest. His arms was wrapped around him, speaking his mind that he never thought such opportunity could happen. His eyes was wide open—but Baekhyun didn’t let go—so he took the chance, slowly sliding half of his arms in the petite’s waist, and buried his nose in his hair—smelling Hermes and rose petals.

And they ended that way, Chanyeol and Baekhyun living together in one same roof. It was dream come true for the both, and finding themselves in an awkward position wasn’t really appearing, they tend to go along well, and every day gives them another chance to get to know each other more and more.

————∞————

“So you make your own breakfast?”

“I never cooked, Suho-hyung always cooks for me.”

“So what do you eat when you’re alone?”

Baekhyun then stands up and placed his cup of hot vanilla brew down, and advanced to a cabinet of orange wood and stainless handles. He opens it up and showed Chanyeol a batch of jarred cereals, clusters, nuts and fruit preserves.

“I make them out of these.” Baekhyun introduces, leaving Chanyeol impressed with a museum-like display of wheat and fruits.

Baekhyun pulled out  a few jars and brought them to the counter, in front of Chanyeol.

“I’ll teach you my favorite. You do it.” Baekhyun directs Chanyeol, handing two porcelain bowls. And he did what the cereal master said, thin flakes, clusters, almonds, pear cubes and a drizzle of yoghurt, followed by a praise of needs more practice and enjoyed their breakfast together in two silver spoons.

“When I was a kid, I used to dream of one same scenario.” Baekhyun shares as he lies flat on his bed, while Chanyeol is at his side, seating on a stool, listening to his treasured stories.

“What was it?”

“Well, I dreamt of a genie talking to me before. And the genie gave me one opportunity to say a wish he can grant.”

Scratching the hollow space between his arm, feet enclosed and fitted on the stool’s small spacing, he asked. “What was your wish?”

“I wished I could see the world.”

Chanyeol, pensive and deeply affected—just like how before when Luhan told him a story when he had a dream where he was cured, and he felt he was avoiding all carcinogenic possibilities, but it was just really a dream. Yet, he hopes that Baekhyun would be as strong as Luhan, and would hold on to what they can hold on until the end.

“And it happened.”

Chanyeol stirs his sadness and looked at Baekhyun, who was smiling.

“But the funny part is, I have never seen the world. So when the genie granted it, I saw nothing. Just like in reality. I woke up laughing, though.”

“Where were we?” Chanyeol changed the topic, as he feel the sarcasm on the other’s mouth painful for him. “Ah, yes, cameras.”

“What are cameras like?” Baekhyun follows the question, propping himself up in to pillows under him.

“It’s like mechanical memories, you capture what you see and you can keep it.”

“Are those called instant cameras?”

“I think so.”

“Do you have one?”

“Yes, I actually brought it with me.” He reaches for his bag at the end of the bed, pulled out the camera and handed it over to Baekhyun.

“Wow. This is great. Maybe you could take pictures of the things we see, and treasure them for me. Maybe one day I could have the chance to see them.”

He sounded rough and protuberant again, but Chanyeol thinks it was a good idea, if you’d ignore his sharp sarcasm.

“Well, then let’s take your first picture.” Chanyeol takes the camera away from the other, held the body of his Fuji, placed his finger on the trigger and looked through the view finder.

“Smile.”

And Baekhyun smiled. His preciousness was so fragile, making Chanyeol’s heart feel funny—like everything felt so rosy and beautiful. He couldn’t press the button, Baekhyun’s smile was too beautiful to let go. After a few seconds, a sound of a loud flash circled him, and machines processing followed after, slolwy pushing out Baekhyun’s first polaroid.

“Do I look okay?” Baekhyun asks, laughing at the lines.

“Yes, you look amazing.”

Chanyeol didn’t held those words back, and it made some cheeks burn red.

“Well, we should have lots of moments together, so we could take a lot of pictures!” Chanyeol encourages in an uplifting spirit.

“Aja!”

————∞————

The floor felt cold, and the sheets were really soft. His eyes opened in to a blurred colours of white, beige and brown. He flickered in to a multiple blinks, slowly forming a shape of a person he describes as beautiful. Suddenly, a bright flash embodied him, making him stand up in haste.

His eyes widened at Baekhyun, who was holding his camera, a photo of him already coming out of the processor. Could it be? He asks himself.

As Baekhyun moves the machine away from his face, he was eye-smiling, pink gums and white teeth looking at Chanyeol, with feminine fingers holding his camera. It was enchanting, a perfect wake-up picture. His photo comes out and clears, and as Baekhyun held it, he laughed at how Chanyeol looks funny—even though he doesn’t see it. He hands over the polaroid, laughter keeping in his throat.

“Look at you. You’ve slept so deep.”

Chanyeol has nothing to say but to laugh at Baekhyun’s whimsicalness and reaches for his photo. He grabs a pen at the side table, and writes the date and a note saying, “you took this picture.”

The sting of his marker alerted Baekhyun. “What are you writing there?” He asks.

“I noted it, saying that you took this picture. You could read them afterwards.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun then gave another of his smile.

“Well, let me make breakfast. Stay here, okay?”

“Okay.”

He heads to the kitchen, trying to remember everything Baekhyun had taught him before. Skinny flakes, clusters, almond halves, pear cubes and a table spoon of yoghurt—sweet, salty and flavorful—he is indeed the cereal master. He then takes a photo of the cereal after, dated and noted—hoping that he’ll smile at the first sight of his all-time favorite.

He returns to Baekhyun’s room, only to see Baekhyun’s hand palmed on his head, lowly groaning. He rushes to him, and asked him if he was okay. Baekhyun fixes himself back, and said he was just fine—just a headache, he guessed.

"Here's your bowl." He reaches over after checking on Baekhyun he seemed fine.

"By the way." Baekhyun starts, mouth full with cereal. "What is your favorite flower?"

"Uh—" Chanyeol hums a long line because he never thought of one. "Maybe white lotuses, because I have seen one before."

"Really? I like them too. They're like beautiful white crowns."

The night came, and they are under the same white sheets. Moon was half bitten, the stars are arrangedly scattered, crescendo of the nighthawks served as the song of the nine of the ending November. Their lights were off, but doors were open, windows were letting air in and burlaps dancing with its blows.

“Hey, Chanyeol.”

“Hey, Baekhyun.”

They faced each other, with a blanket over them for privacy since everything was open—so as their hearts.

“Maybe I like you.”

"But I'm blind. Is it okay with you?"

"No matter what you are, you are Baekhyun. And—yeah, maybe I like you just the way you are."

"Maybe—I do too."

They stared at each other as the words they said filled their hearts, smiled at each other, but didn’t know what to do. The night ended, with permissions of ‘can I hug you, just for the night’. Crickets were at their moments, and the night line started silencing afterwards. It was a good night sleep, for the new-found lovers. They dream of waking up, knowing that they—maybe—like each other, and would live a different way on the start of the winter.

Delivered dinner and Ivy Club slippers on a night together went perfect. Roasted chicken, staple Korean beefs and side dishes, joined with apple ciders and cola. Since none of them knows how to cook, at least they know how to dial the phone.

“Ah—I’m full!”

Baekhyun remains silent, but he was rubbing his tummy also. His eyes still on his emptly plate, looking a little nervous.

“What Is it, Baekkie?” Chanyeol asks, noticing that he was bothered.

“I—“

“What is it? Spit it out.”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“Yeah.”

Baekhyun breathes in, and slowly pronounced words of shock to Chanyeol. “Let’s take a bath together, .”

Chanyeol, startled by the petite’s request that he was at the midst of screaming and running around the room. It was almost fine to take a bath together, but the additional option was quite exaggerative.

“I’m blind, I wouldn’t care less. But I’d want to do it, so we could have—a special connection.”

They did take a bath together. Warm waters around their bare skin, sharing one bath tub was freakish for the giant. He was thankful for the fog inside the barricade, making the scene a little less awkward. They didn’t talk the whole bath, but Baekhyun looked like he was contented with what happened.

Sounds of opening drawers and slipping clothes rounded on the silent room, Chanyeol dressing up and Baekhyun , doing the same, on his back—unusual for an average Korean. He tries not to look back, but the distant connection sends electricity on his skin. He closes his eyes, out of his control, and walked over the other. He slowly slid his arms on Baekhyun’s, touching heat and warmth seductively.

Baekhyun didn’t fighted his actions—though he was shocked—, his body was going with the flow. He let Chanyeol drag him to the bed, falling in to petals softness and cold sheets, yet Chanyeol’s body brought him extreme heat.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, all this time.”

Completely innocent of what they were doing, the ual attraction between the both of them conquered the night. The s, the kisses and the explosions were perfectly practiced, brought them to a dream of ecstasy and a night of a new memory.

————∞————

Photos started filling a box Chanyeol prepared especially for Baekhyun’s treasured moments. He took pictures of flowers, the flower shop, the street, the streetlight, the beach, the beach and him, the sky, his kitchen, his bedroom, his living, his bathroom, his backyard, his garden, his front door, Chanyeol’s school, the inventories, his pillows, his favorite cabinet, his cereal and fruit jars, his curtains, his clothes, his shoes, his hair, his eyes, his mouth, his nose, and Suho who just returned.

“I’ll be taking over.”

“We’re glad you’re back.”

Chanyeol leaves after, with Baekhyun sad eyes looking at him. But he reproaches his hyung, just thinking of that maybe they’ll have another chance in the future.

Walking outside the snow of November 21^st was crucial, both hands curling on thick wool and leather gloves, nose hard like icicles, eyes gazing at the street of somewhat familiar, but everything was covered in white foam, mist blowing out of mouths like western chimneys.

Some thing was on his mind, other than finding a place to stay for a while, or maybe how he can convince the landlord to keep him in for a few days—but it isn’t really what he is thinking about. Anywhere he looks, left, far right, at the sky, or at the ground he’s walking on, he sees nothing but snow—Baekhyun isn’t anywhere. He feels so disturbed, even if he isn’t really moving out of the city, or Gyeongju, or even South Korea, the inside of him are dying in emotions—it feels painful, but he couldn’t spell the wounds out.

Speckles of white dust falls on his shoulders, ​his head, and on the tip of his nose—he’ll stare at it and shrugs it off, and he’ll feel a bad headache after. Maybe he shouldn’t have left, maybe he shouldn’t have let his fear conquer him.

“Suho’s coming back.”

“I know.”

“Will we tell him?”

“Sure.”

With confidence, Baekhyun answered him. Suho is the person who he thinks would understand everything, for all the things they have done, he think it wouldn’t be a bad choice to let him in in their little secret too.

“I think—we shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I just, I’m—“

“I’m here! Suho-hyung is back!”

And he walked out crucially at the snow of November 21^st, both hands curling on thick wool and leather gloves, nose hard like icicles, eyes gazing at the street of somewhat familiar but everything was covered in white foam, mist blowing out of mouths like western chimneys.

Some thing was on his mind, other than finding a place to stay for a while, or maybe how he can convince the landlord to keep him in for a few days—but it was his bad decision of running away. Maybe he should’ve stayed and took Baekhyun’s courage to Suho, because he believes in his thought too. But he feels so disturbed, even if he isn’t really moving out of the city, or Gyeongju, or even South Korea, the inside of him are dying in emotions—it was a little fear of losing something, or someone. He was confused, so as the snow swaying on the blue.

He arrives alive and warm at the front of his apartment lot, breathing heavy as the storm of the month. He walks in, and he met the landlord, and in some chances he had the pass to live for additional three days in his apartment. But as he went up to his room, a letter fell from the door. It was from Luhan’s caretaker.

Chanyeol,

Classes are quite heavy to leave the country right now, and Luhan needs someone at this time. What I’m trying to say is, Luhan’s parents mailed two tickets for him and you to go to America. He’s going to have his chemotherapy. Please, this is the time that he really needs someone to hold on. I’m sorry if this is a burden to you, but you have to. There is no one he can rely on but you, only you.

Thank you, sincerely.

Minseok

He places the letter on his pocket after reading at it, packed his bags and all of his stuffs. He runs to the landlord, and thanks for his consideration, but he’ll be leaving permanently now. Luckily, a friend’s empty truck was passing by, and gave him a ride to Luhan’s house.

“Come in.”

“Luhan-hyung.”

He turns around, wiping his tears, and what he saw changed his emotions. He quickly moved his wheelchair to the door, and threw himself up to hug Chanyeol.

“You’re coming with me?” He asks, face buried in Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“Yes. I am.”

A hundred feet above from the Incheon ground, he found himself sitting inside an airplane. Peeking out of the window, the stars were dimmer and shine brighter on lower platforms, which he found dismaying. The atmosphere smelled like mall couches, pressured oxygen and olives. He continuously watches the skies, hoping for something bright and beautiful, while Luhan lies on his shoulders, deeply sleeping.

He looks down time by time out of the border, below the plane’s wings, looking if the city still shines in his sight. But as time passes by, it was the sun who glows under the clouds and above the seas, South Korea was souls away from his reach. He had thoughts of jumping out, or maybe swimming away after—his heart is longing for Baekhyun’s smiles. But as he looks to Luhan, a man of need and care, he just sighs his stupid ideas away with the air conditioning.

————∞————

Welcome to California, says the big sign just outside the aircraft. The aura of American air was different, seductive and fresh to their Asian noses. After finding their , they went on to a taxi, pushed their heavy luggage and entered an hour drive to the said hospital.

“We feel bad for not bringing you at home first, but we want you to be as fine as soon as possible.” His parents apologized at Luhan, who was on his familiar green plastic gown, lying on an angled hospital bed. As they arrived, his parents immediately hugged and kissed him, tears on their eyes and mouths saying how beautiful their son is.

“It’s okay, mom.” He places his hand over his mother’s, and looked at his father. “Dad. I’ll be fine.”

But his parents still fails to stay over to watch him because they both have heavy works—his mother is an accountant and father is a lawyer. Yet there was Chanyeol, to look over, to watch on him, and to give him support in every day Luhan was lying on his typical bed.

Three weeks had aged over Chanyeol’s skin, his senses getting used of the American air. Sometimes he thinks Seoul is the same as the place he was in, but the snow was heavier back at home. Bread and hot chocolate, raisins and diced tomatoes, Kellogg’s and Campbell soups steaming smoke over the hospital room shared by the two. As they were eating, Chanyeol felt a vibration on his pocket, making him check on his phone.

His eyes gazed over the notification on his screen, and quickly swiped the screen.

“Hello?” The voice from the other line appeared, it was Baekhyun. His voice still as light and compassionate, and hearing it kills him inside.

“Hello?” He repeated. “If you’re listening Chanyeol, I feel really bad for not contacting you.”

“Please come home, I miss you.”

“Chanyeol? I know you’re there.”

“Baekhyun-ah, isn’t international calls—uh—expensive?” He indirects the topic, almost caught a western accent—his eyes tapered and sorrowful on the floor, hiding his face from Luhan.

“Chanyeol. I miss you, so much.”

“I—“

Before he could speak, or say he misses him too, so much, the line between them breaks. He tried to call back but his phone wouldn’t respond to his action. He drops it to the couch and sighs, pushing his palm in his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” Luhan suddenly apologizes.

Chanyeol’s brows concaved, his expressions asking why.

“I might have been the weight between you and the guy on the phone. I’m sorry.”

He gasps and stood up to stoop closer to Luhan, waving his hands from left to right.”No, no, no.”

“But if you miss him too. You could go.” He smiles.

“But, how about you?”

“I am fine.”

Chanyeol thinks of it, and seeing Luhan being attentive of him again. But he is right, he misses Baekhyun badly, and he doesn’t want to eat burgers and Pepsi Cola anymore—he wants Baekhyun’s cereal varieties.

“But promise me, I’ll see you back on Korea. Okay?”

Offering his pinky finger, he agrees to their pact. “I promise.”

And there Chanyeol goes, he immediately flew back to South Korea, passing through Seoul, and to his home of heart, Gyeongju. He arrived at the airport the next day, eyeing for Suho who said that he’ll come to pick him up. As he saw him in a small crowd, he rushes over, and talking about Baekhyun is the first thing in his mind.

“Suh—“ Approaching Suho wasn’t accomplished, since he pulled Chanyeol by the wrist as he saw him, and dragged him to his car, all in a quick flash.

“We need to hurry.”

“Why?”

The street was busy, hard for Suho to explain. Chanyeol waits for a red sign to light, to let Suho do his talking.

“Baekhyun Is at the hospital.”

“Why?” He asks with brows raised high, arms shaking and heart beating hastily.

“He has an eye infection, and it’s severe.” Suho adds, even he is trembling, visibly on how he holds the steering wheel.

Memories suddenly flashed to Chanyeol, remembering that Baekhyun had several headaches before. Guilt and mental pain clawed in to his skin, shoveling decisions of how he should haven’t denied those signs. Gushing freezing air suddenly flushed his sleeping consciousness as Suho rolled down his windows, pushed himself out of the tight opening, cursing at the car in front for being such a slow ard. He slides back in, resting his middle finger at the steering wheel, and then vigorously stepped on a go.

They arrived, faced the Room 309 and to be blocked by a nurse reminding that Baekhyun was still in a condition of isolation. All they could do was to view him at a blurry window, seeing his eyes covered in gauze, blankets completely lying on his whole body. Chanyeol pushes himself on a wall, his tears falling heavier than the snow storm outside.

————∞————

“Come in, sir.” A doctor appears after a door opened, calling sleepless Chanyeol, who pocketed a piece of paper before standing up to follow the doctor.