Kyungsoo – i want to write your sympathy for me

Kyungsoo starts leaving notes for Chen, coupled with pictures of pokemon, in his kitchen. It’s a good way of saying what he wants to say but can’t say.

Celebi (Kyungsoo, Sept 1^st, 3am)

Wings like gossamer, a birdlike face, childlike hands clasped together. It perches on my desk, listening to the rattle-tat of words under lamplight. It sits there and watches me, curiously, not understanding.

I watch it fly, scattering dust, flying between the words people lobby at each other, compressed upset lodging and taking root in us all. It’s real only at this hour, the witching hour, the hour where I know I’m burning myself up to feed my own insecurities, my own belief that I need this to be happy. Where I can feel exhaustion eating at muscles, meat, at myself underneath.

The day I stop seeing this, is the day I stop

Celebi (Chen, Sept 2^nd, 3am)

I think about this when I’m waiting for you and the clock ticks past two. It pokes at the fish and makes faces in the fishbowl

Kakuna (Kyungsoo, Sept 3^rd, 1am)

I see this in the mirror. I see the scales down my arms, shifting against the legs of my pants. Rough rows of scales, over and over, growing densely, sprouting in place of hairs. They grow and interlock, hunching my shoulders inwards, locking my legs together, turning my mouth into a grinning jaw ready to bite.

Only my neck is free, and I have to tuck my head to my chest to protect it

Growlithe (Chen, Sept 4^th, 10am)

It sits at my feet and barks. I like the color of its coat, red, brown and white

It doesn’t like to, but it waits anyway.

Today I brought him to the beach with Chanyeol and Baekhyun. He ran across the sand, into the water, and made friends with strangers

Growlithe (Kyungsoo, Sept 4^th, 11pm)

You’re the farthest thing from a Growlithe. Maybe you used to be one but not anymore

I don’t like dogs. They wait and you have to be responsible for how they feel even if you don’t feel the same way

Ninetails (Kyungsoo, Sept 5^th, 12am)

I like this one because it doesn’t care what people think. It sleeps on my desk, fur the color of full-cream, sleek and shiny in full-bodied waves from its long snout to the curve of its ears to the length of its back to nine tails that loll off the desk and lie like trains of gowns along the white tiled floor

The red gleam that floats on the surface of its pupils, barely visible, the crimson dotting the inside of its ear, the blaze that marks the end of its tails. Slumbering, waiting to wake and leap

It would prowl along the floors of the apartment and carry balls of fire like the train of a gown, so you’re never in the dark

Ninetails (Chen, Sept 5^th, 8am)

I like the dark. Chanyeol’s series is also called ninetails

Ninetails (Kyungsoo, Sept 6^th, 8am)

You’re sleeping and I’m leaving.

I spoke to Chanyeol today, caught him as he was watering the plants. He’s almost done with the nine poems and I told him I want to pay for his first print run

We’d have to do marketing for it and all but I want him to have the guarantee that it will be published so he doesn’t need to worry about commercial viability and all that

Ninetails (Chen, Sept 6^th, 4pm)

I used to imagine I had a creature beside me and I would imagine it pushing me to where I need to go

It’s strange I think of that when I see ninetails

And I read Chanyeol’s poetry and you should

I got home once because of it, it sat beside me and my face and curled its tails around me

It was cold at the bus stop, it got up and made me get up and get on the last bus home

Ninetails (Kyungsoo, Sept 6^th, 10pm)

I don’t know if I want to

I’m home early today and you’re still awake, so I’m going to sit on the balcony with you and the soy beancurd I bought

Ninetails (Kyungsoo, Sept 7^th, 7am)

What happened at the bus stop, last time?

Ninetails (Kyungsoo, Sept 7^th, 10pm)

Chen?

Ninetails (Kyungsoo, Sept 8^th, 8am)

Chen

Ninetails (Kyungsoo, Sept 8^th, 10pm)

Chen

--

Kyungsoo doesn’t leave his desk for a single moment that day, until work ends. He finally can make it home on time.

Chen’s writing, slowly, on the floor of their apartment. At least he has the lights on, this time.

“Kyungsoo?” He says, confused. He covers the paper with his arms.

Kyungsoo just stands there and looks at him. He’s been home so late recently it’s hard to remember what Chen looks like in the sunlight.

Is he a bit thinner? Kyungsoo can’t tell.

Kyungsoo can’t even say he’s sorry. He always is, but things hardly change.

“Are you okay?” He asks. “You didn’t reply.”

“I need some time,” Chen says, puzzled. “I can’t write that fast.”

“Let’s go out for dinner,” Kyungsoo says.

“Not tonight,” Chen says.

He lies there, waiting for Kyungsoo to go in, to bathe and change and move away.

“Bathe with me?”

Kyungsoo knows he’s not supposed to push, but he can ask.

Chen looks like he’s going to refuse.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says. He walks past Chen, into the rest of the apartment.

--

There’s the clattering of the doorknob. Chen comes in, hair tousled.

He opens the shower door and steps right in, next to Kyungsoo, who’s about to start bathing.

“Your clo-“ Kyungsoo’s cut off by Chen, who lunges at him.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says, holding him, smoothing down the back of his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

Chen doesn’t say anything, just clutches at Kyungsoo.

Chen has these moments, moments where he just holds Kyungsoo and shakes.

Kyungsoo understands, even if he doesn’t understand right now. He knows better than to ask, simply holds Chen quietly.

Chen’s not the only one scared. Kyungsoo recognizes fear when he sees it, he’s been living with it for so long. Chen and him are the same – the closer they get to something important, the more they freeze in front of it.

“I want to,” Chen says. “Can we.”

“Anything,” Kyungsoo says. He waits.

Chen breaks away. He goes back out of the shower room. Kyungsoo’s a bit disappointed, but he doesn’t want to push. Not with Chen.

The lights go out.

“Whoa,” Kyungsoo says.

Chen’s feet patter across the shower room. Kyungsoo hears fabric dropping on the floor.

Chen’s fingers touch Kyungsoo hesitantly.

“I, Baekhyun and I kissed,” he says, in the dark.

Kyungsoo’s…not surprised. He’s more surprised by the feel of Chen’s lips on his chin, up his cheeks, finding its way to Kyungsoo’s mouth.

“Here,” Kyungsoo says. He finds Chen’s chin and angles his head, leaning in.

They don’t stop, this time. Kyungsoo touches Chen and kisses him, kisses him again and again and again. Finds his way to Chen’s , this time, and Chen lets him touch him, breath spluttering, hips jerking.

He comes with a small, bitten-off cry.

Kyungsoo’s more surprised when Chen drops to his knees, hands sliding down Kyungsoo’s sides.

Breath soft on Kyungsoo’s , before Chen it.

Kyungsoo’s not an idiot.

“Hey,” he says, tangling his hands in Chen’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Chen’s fingers tense on his hips, before he takes the tip of Kyungsoo’s in his mouth, ling on it.

“Chen,” Kyungsoo says. He’s thought about it before, but not like this.

He’s not really getting hard, as good as it feels.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says. He levers Chen’s head backwards, before dropping to his knees himself.

He finds Chen’s face, pats it. Is not surprised to find that the corners of his eyes are wet.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, and Chen goes, “I don’t know.” Says it so plainly it’s worse than any hopelessness he could have put in his voice.

“I’m going to sleep,” Chen says. Kyungsoo doesn’t let him go, this time.

“Chen,” he says again.

Chen touches him, says clearly, “can we ?”

“No,” Kyungsoo says. “I mean, now?”

“Yes,” Chen says.

“No,” Kyungsoo says, and Chen says, “why not? You want to.”

“Chen,” Kyungsoo says, and Chen goes, “you want to hear me beg?”. Then, “I didn’t. Mean that.”

Kyungsoo hooks an arm under his arm, pulling them up together. Chen follows.

Kyungsoo hugs him. Stands there, Chen in his arms, and holds him in the dark. Holds him until Chen starts, very quietly, to shake. Holds him until Chen starts to cry, like an adult, sobs held in so tight he’s choking with each breath.

Chen doesn’t say a single word, the whole time. Kyungsoo’s noticing that, now. Chen has words always, but when it comes to himself, it’s a silence so complete you don’t even realize it’s there.

--

Kyungsoo has Chen in bed, with him. Chen’s hugging Kyungsoo, as fiercely as he can.

“I can read this?” Kyungsoo checks, hand on Chen’s hair. Chen nods.

It’s a story that starts at the bus stop. It starts with Chen crouching at the bus stop, hugging himself, suddenly too tired to even think of how to get home. Buses came and left and people were staring but Chen couldn’t get to his feet. Couldn’t remember (mind a blank) how to get home.

Chen had with his boyfriend, he says. Writes it clearly and neatly down. How he’d waited and then waited, before telling himself that it was enough – that his boyfriend had given him enough time, and even if he left now, it was fine, but Chen had gotten enough from him. Had had company, these few months (it got hard when Baekhyun wasn’t around, when he was dating too). It was enough, Chen writes. He’s not the kind of cat who needs a master. He just needs a bit of time.

He’s sorry, Chen writes. He’s sorry that what Kyungsoo gives him still isn’t enough, that Kyungsoo or Baekhyun coming near him makes him tense and stupid. Because makes people stay but it also means there’s nothing else Chen can give, and there’s always a limit. There’s always a deadline, after . There’s always a countdown, for Chen.

Give him some time, Chen writes. Give him some time, please, because Chen’s tried and honestly tried and he can’t do it, he can’t. He can and he’ll stay but he’s still sorry he can’t right now.

Kyungsoo puts the paper down. Chen’s grip takes on extra weight, extra meaning now.

Chen should have chosen Kyungsoo for the same reason Kyungsoo chose Chen – that they looked like they would be easy to please.

Chen’s still with Kyungsoo for the same reason Kyungsoo’s with Chen – that they both see in each other fear. Fear that makes them the most wordless around people they care about, fear that turns them into fishes, tracing the arc of the bowl over and over again. Fear that makes them feel that they won’t be judged by each other, for having the same fear.

A distant, slow realization, floating peacefully to the surface of Kyungsoo’s mind –that you can be so afraid of how relationships will turn out that moving from person to person, home to home, becomes a good thing.

This is the difference between Chen and Chanyeol. Chanyeol might have understood Kyungsoo, but Chen would have done the same.

Kyungsoo holds Chen and pats him, pats him until Chen’s breathing starts to even out and his grip loosens.

Kyungsoo makes a call, then.

“Let me guess. A holiday?”

“No,” Kyungsoo says. “No-pay leave. For a month, at least. And then I want to transfer out, Suho. I don’t know. I might.”

Suho’s a bit tense. “Kyungsoo.”

“I know if I had any other boss, if I was anywhere else, I wouldn’t be saying this,” Kyungsoo says. “But you are and I’ve never asked you for anything these few years, Suho.”

“Will you come back?”

“Find a replacement,” Kyungsoo says, looking down at Chen. He’s never been so scared, in his entire life. But he has to do this, before he gets to his calculator and his bank account statement.

“I’ll lessen your workload,” Suho cajoles. “We can hire one more person.”

“I’ll come in to discuss it,” Kyungsoo says. “But not tomorrow. I’m sorry. I can still work from home tomorrow, tie up loose ends, hand over.”

“You know how lucky you are?”

“I do,” Kyungsoo says honestly. Anywhere else, he’d be fired by now. But he’s good at his job, he might as well use what little pull he has.

--

Kyungsoo works steadily through the morning, Chen tucked into his side. Chen’s awake but he doesn’t move, breathing slow and even.

This is familiar, to Kyungsoo. He was the one scared, and Chanyeol was the one comforting him. Kyungsoo knows how it feels, to want to be in silence but not be alone.

This is anxiety that webs and beats in tandem with the pulse of your heart, until being alone means thoughts scuttling like spiders in you.

It’s enough to have someone beside you, but once that person is gone and you’re alone in the room, things creep out from the corners again.

If he thinks about it this way, Chen’s preference for darkness makes sense. It takes his senses and tugs them outwards – eyes straining, fingers reaching, skin tingling in heightened anticipation. It takes him out of himself and keeps him company.

For Kyungsoo, it’s work. For Chen, it’s darkness.

“I want to work,” Chen says.

“Mm?” Kyungsoo peers at him over his glasses.

Chen rolls onto his back. “I want to work,” he repeats patiently.

“Why?”

“If I work,” Chen says, “I can pay for myself. Food, clothes. Water, electricity.”

“But I don’t need you to,” Kyungsoo says, bemused.

“You can work less,” Chen says. “If I work. You can work less.”

Kyungsoo really wants to laugh. “Chen. I earn more in an hour than you could earn in a day.”

“But you could get an hour,” Chen pursues. “Work an hour less.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Kyungsoo says. He traces the frown lines on Chen’s face.

“I’m going to work less,” he promises. “Find a job that lets me come home earlier. I promise.”

Chen clearly doesn’t believe him, and Kyungsoo doesn’t blame him. Chanyeol didn’t believe him, either, with good reason.

But Chanyeol had a life of his own, friends of his own, to go back to. Chen doesn’t.

“Maybe you should,” Kyungsoo says.

The one thing Chanyeol had given Kyungsoo was certainty; certainty built over years and years of lives shared together. Kyungsoo had always known that Chanyeol would take Kyungsoo back, if he asked. Even after they broke up and Kyungsoo moved away.

Kyungsoo never had to worry about that. Chanyeol, on the other hand, had, with good reason, worried.

The more Kyungsoo had become distant, the more Chanyeol had worried. Kyungsoo knew that, but giving more time to Chanyeol was a luxury Kyungsoo couldn’t afford. Chanyeol was asking for more than Kyungsoo could have given – Chanyeol wouldn’t settle for scraps. Not like Chen.

It was about time, and it wasn’t - it was how much of himself Kyungsoo was willing to share. If Kyungsoo kept people chasing after him, like dogs for a bone, it was never fair for them. It kept them in this arc of constant motion, without a resting point.

“I’m scared,” Kyungsoo says simply. “I want to share more with you, but it’s hard. I know you want whatever I can give, which is why I’m already telling you this – but I need you to tell me, when I’m hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kyungsoo drops a kiss on his forehead. “You need to punch me,” he jokes. “If I do it again.”

Like an octopus, Chen snakes arms around Kyungsoo’s neck. He pulls him down so forcefully Kyungsoo hits the mattress and Chen with an “oof.”

--

“They eat so much,” Kyungsoo says, peering into the tank. Chen shakes the fish food can again, scattering red-and-orange pieces into the water. The guppies ascend into a mess of swirling tails and darting bodies.

Kyungsoo’s following Chen around. Chen’s doing what he does everyday – make the beds, feed the fishes, eat breakfast.

It’s funny, how something so everyday can be so new, for Kyungsoo.

“I wanted to have pets,” Chen says. “I know it’s funny, a cat wanting to have pets, but I wanted to. Some of the fosterers had pets, and that was nice.”

Chen keeps dropping sentences like this. Offhand sentences, about his past.

Kyungsoo listens and remembers and ask questions. Chen’s testing the water. Seeing how Kyungsoo will respond.

He seems happier, around the fishes. They’re feeding them again later, at lunchtime, when Chen finally says, “I think I got used to moving.”

Kyungsoo slips an arm around Chen’s waist and leans his head against Chen’s bent back. His tail jostles against Kyungsoo’s leg.

 “We moved, at least every year. To new homes. New people. It kept us busy. It’s strange, staying in the same place. I don’t know what to do.” Chen says. “Baekhyun’s happy, and I. I don’t know why it’s not easy. I have everything I need.”

“You’ll find it,” Kyungsoo says. “I hate those self-help columns. Being happy isn’t the only way to lead life, and you don’t need to be unhappy about being unhappy. All this restlessness is just a way of telling yourself that there’s something that you need to think about, or pay attention to. It’s good, because without it you’ll never know when something’s wrong. This is you talking to yourself.”

“What are you sad about?” Chen throws the question back at him. Kyungsoo rubs his cheek against the material of Chen’s white shirt.

“That I’m not happy,” Kyungsoo says. “I’m sad that I’m sad. So don’t make the same mistake as me.”

Chen snorts. “That’s not an answer. It’s just going in circles.”

“Exactly,” Kyungsoo says, purposely misunderstanding him to make a point. “We’re just going in circles.”

“But you know you are, and you’re still doing it.”

“I’m trying not to. I know it but I don’t really know it. I’m getting there.”

“I’m confused,” Chen says.

“You’ll get it,” Kyungsoo says. He lifts himself off Chen, words coming, startling and unexpected, from himself. “But you won’t get it by turning it over and over again in your mind. You need to  - go out. Meet people. Let it make sense to you.”

“You’re not doing that,” Chen says.

“I am.” Kyungsoo touches Chen, makes him turn around. “With you.”

“What is up with you today?” Chen says bluntly. He can’t look Kyungsoo in the eye, though he meets Kyungsoo’s lips, when Kyungsoo leans in.

Kyungsoo would die of mortification if Chanyeol hears any of what Kyungsoo said to Chen.

--

Chanyeol’s the one that teaches Chen to draw. Baekhyun and him come over regularly, now that Kyungsoo’s at home.

Chen draws the fishbowl. He sketches and erases and sketches again the arcs, until he gets it right. It’s the first time Kyungsoo sees him completely absorbed in something non-living.

Chen’s stubborn, Baekhyun says. Kyungsoo agrees.

It’s a good thing, here. Chen spends more than a week drawing the fishes, over and over again. He’s searches google images for pictures of guppies and stones, and spoils his eyesight because he stares at it for so long.

“Really,” Kyungsoo scolds, rubbing between Chen’s eyes. The bottom of his eyes are swollen. “You have to rest your eyes.”

“Fussy,” Chen says.

“Let’s go to the zoo,” Kyungsoo suggests.

--

So they go, the four of them. Kyungsoo makes Chanyeol carry a backpack with water and food inside.

It’s a good zoo. They have habitats, instead of cages. Kyungsoo keeps imagining that the animals crossing the gullies and climbing the walls, eventually running loose among the tourists.

Chen’s fascinated with the white tigers. He borrows Kyungsoo’s handphone and takes careful pictures of them.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says, gesturing to Chanyeol. He opens the backpack to pull out a small sketchpad, along with pencils. “Use this instead.”

Chen stares at it.

“Here,” Kyungsoo says. He takes Chen’s hand and brings him to a nearby bench.

He sits both of them down and slides the pad into Chen’s hands.

“I don’t – I only drew a bowl,” Chen says. “I’m not. An artist.”

“And this is mine,” Kyungsoo says. Chanyeol sighs and digs into the backpack, passing Kyungsoo a small leather-bound brown notebook, with a pen.

“And I’m not a poet,” Kyungsoo says. “So we’ll just sit here and rest for a while.”

“Be good to him,” Baekhyun says quietly, fiercely to Kyungsoo.

“We’ll be back in a while,” Chanyeol adds. He pats Chen on his shoulder.

Kyungsoo leans back into the bench, opening up his notebook. It’s hot out today.

After a while, Chen quietly rests his head on Kyungsoo’s right shoulder. Kyungsoo loops his left arm around Chen’s waist.

“I just drew a bowl,” he says.

“I know,” Kyungsoo says. Chen’s usually a loud cat, but when it comes to personal feelings, he speaks more with body language.

He traces the edges of the sketchpad. Feels the bindings. Rubs his finger along the edges of the pencil, lead smearing.

Opens it, at last.

His weight lifts off Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Chen’s not leaning on Kyungsoo anymore. Instead, he’s hunched over his sketchpad, drawing. Learning the lines of the white tiger.

Kyungsoo’s notebook is still blank. He’s still smiling, anyway.

--

They spend the rest of the days like this – going to places. Kusu island, where tourists come in hordes to release store-bought turtles into the water. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo write poems – angry poems, each doing a stanza each – about overcrowding and good intentions that go nowhere - while Chen sketches Baekhyun waist-deep in water, chasing seagulls away from the baby turtles. Haw Par Villa, which is an amusement park detailing the eighteen levels of hell, the Chinese way. They take photos with all the angry gods, and at night, when Kyungsoo walks in to find his laptop plastered with pictures of souls suffering in hell (Chen sketching carefully), he almost screams. Henderson waves, the most normal of the lot – a treetop walk suspended metres off the ground, amongst the top of trees. The four of them have fun chasing each other along the wooden suspension bridges (with no one else on it, of course).

Chen sits on the edge of the bridge, legs dangling through the metal chain links, drawing a nest he spotted. Baekhyun’s lying on his belly beside Chen, gazing through the slots in the wooden bridge at the forest below.

“You’re going back to work soon,” Chanyeol says. They’re both standing at the far end of the bridge, looking at the drop below.

“I’m going to take a reduced portfolio.” Kyungsoo scrubs his face. “Suho’s not happy, but he’ll do it.”

“Will you keep doing it?”

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo says. He glances at Chanyeol. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I’m mid-career, though. I need to plan carefully.”

“I might get Chen classes,” Chanyeol says. “If he keeps improving at the pace he is... He should take classes.”

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says. Thank you for not pushing. Thank you for taking care of Chen.

“I want to save up,” Kyungsoo says. “Get into the publishing industry, maybe. I don’t know.”

“You’re trying, for Chen.” Chanyeol says. “I didn’t...expect that.”

Kyungsoo didn’t expect that, either. He didn’t try for Chanyeol.

“It’s not...if I met Chen many years ago, things would have been different,” Kyungsoo says frankly. “I thought that was what I wanted, that time. I guess I had to try it to know. I’m just lucky,” he says, looking at Chanyeol. “Lucky that I have a good boss now, who’s willing to give me some latitude with my job. Lucky that I’ve done decently in my career, whether I liked it or not.”

“I guess,” Chanyeol says. “I’m still living off writing residences.”

“Xiumin might know someone,” Kyungsoo says. “It’s editorial, though. Not creative writing.”

“Heck, I wouldn’t mind,” Chanyeol says.

“I’ll check,” Kyungsoo says. “You could... you two could move in with us.”

Chanyeol laughs.

“What?”

“I’m jealous,” Chanyeol says. “That it would be Chen, who got you to slow down.”

“You know,” Kyungsoo says. “I thought about you. I thought about how much I hurt you and the years we lost. I didn’t want that to happen again.”

“You are an ,” Chanyeol says. He sort of means it.

“I know,” Kyungsoo says.

Chanyeol holds out his hand. Lets it lie there, palm up, between the both of them, on the links.

Kyungsoo takes it, without a word. There are no sparks, only a familiarity that resurges, in the warmth of Chanyeol’s grip. An unfamiliarity, as well, faintly aching and tender, in the new roughness of his palm.

If they were still the same, they wouldn’t have this, now. In a way, Kyungsoo’s grateful, for the years, for the loss he had to have tasted, before he could understand the strength in Chanyeol’s grip.

“Read my poems,” Chanyeol says. Kyungsoo nods.

--

A week before Kyungsoo’s vacation is up, Kyungsoo sits Chen down.

“This is what I’m planning for,” he says. He has a schedule drawn up, detailing how much work he has and how often he should have to stay in office.

“And this is what Chanyeol proposes,” he says. He has brochures, and write-ups that Chanyeol has done in Microsoft Word for classes that Chen can take at School of the Arts.

“Baekhyun talked to me about it,” Chen says. “Chanyeol has a friend teaching him guitar.”

“We’re a mixed bag,” Kyungsoo agrees. It sounds pretentious, them being an artsy family – but none of them are claiming to be experts. It’s just people reaching out to find things they like, in life. Balancing what they have to do with what they want to do, even if they don’t do it well.

“I still want to write,” Kyungsoo adds. “It’s just something to do. I don’t know where it’s going, it might be too late for my age to go anywhere. But I just want to.”

“I’ll go with you,” Chen says. “If you want me to.” He thinks about it, then says, “I want to.”

“I didn’t mean going literally,” Kyungsoo says.

“Can I draw you?” Chen asks abruptly.

Kyungsoo nods, bemused.

--

Chen sits Kyungsoo down in front of the fish tank.

Kyungsoo has the time to watch Chen, now. To think about all that they’ve talked about, in the past few weeks.

Chen’s no expert at drawing, but he has something he’s growing to like.

Kyungsoo began writing before Chanyeol, but he stopped, when he left Chanyeol. He’s picking it up back now, Chen and Chanyeol and even Baekhyun woven into his stories. Without people he cared about, he stopped; back with people he likes, he starts again. Kyungsoo doesn’t have things to write about, if he doesn’t have people who make him feel things around him. That is still the scariest part of human existence for him, this need that is quiet but vast and aching, the need for connection. To unload part of yourself onto someone else’s back, and to take that part of that person’s load from him. To share this burden of life together; to swim in tandem, sharing the waves and eddies made by each other.

It’s not the same for Chen. Chen always had Baekhyun, but he didn’t have himself. He looked at Baekhyun and didn’t look at himself because he was afraid of what he would see; afraid, like Kyungsoo, of an emptiness that always demanded to be filled. That might stay empty, one day, when Baekhyun moved on.

He’s taking himself in small doses. Understanding, slowly, how he sees the world, shade by shade. Keeping lines and curves for himself, pencilling in a world that is his and his alone.

Kyungsoo sits and watches Chen. He doesn’t regret anything, and is stupidly, hopelessly grateful that they have what they have.

It takes a few hours, but Kyungsoo’s happy to sit there in the quiet, and so is Chen.

--

It’s not the best drawing in the world – it’s not even a good one, if Kyungsoo wants to be technical about it – but it catches the faint smile on Kyungsoo’s face and the look in his eyes. Sort of, if you tilt your head and squint.

The fish tank is done well (Chen had spent weeks drawing that, after all).

Kyungsoo likes the curve of Chen’s knee, and the attempt to sketch his own hand. It’s fitting that this drawing of Kyungsoo also contains Chen.

“I’ll keep working on it,” Chen promises. Kyungsoo stifles a yawn. “Sorry. Yes. Anytime.”

Chen drops the sketchpad and crawls across the ground on hands and knees, tail waving.

“Chen?”

“You need to help me get over this,” Chen says, climbing into Kyungsoo’s lap. “You need to show me that you’re not gonna leave.”

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, willing but puzzled.

“ me,” Chen says, patiently.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says. “I mean, sure. So does that mean, after you draw me each time, we’re going to ? Because I wasn’t thinking about that when Chanyeol taught you to draw, but I should thank him.”

“Idiot.” Chen says. He glances at the drawing, glances back at Kyungsoo. “I have you,” he says.

“Is this drawing-kink?” Kyungsoo asks, fascinated.

“You sound like Chanyeol,” Chen says, sourly.

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says, hands going up the back of Chen’s shirt. He presses a kiss to Chen’s collarbone.

His hands are starting to shake. This is embarrassing.

Kyungsoo doesn’t want to – make a promise to Chen, and break it.

“It’s my choice,” Chen says. “Let me make it. And then I can find Baekhyun and Chanyeol, when you’re gone-“

Kyungsoo squeaks. Or, well, he tried to growl, but it failed.

He thought about it. Dreamt about it, of course. The four of them together.

“Before you go back to work,” Chen promises. He noses Kyungsoo’s ear. “If you’re good enough, that is.”

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says, injured. He’s rusty, but he’s not bad. At least, Chanyeol never said.

Chen leans down and their mouths touch. This is familiar, like Chanyeol’s hand twined with Kyungsoo’s. This, Kyungsoo can do.

They take it slow and easy, getting used to skin on skin. Chen laughs, when Kyungsoo skates a hand across his ribs.

“It’s ticklish,” he says.

They share s, Chen twitching as Kyungsoo touches him. But then he slits his eyes open, smiling, and works Kyungsoo’s like he’s been doing it for years. Kyungsoo squeezes Chen’s too hard by accident, and Chen bites him.

It’s Chen, this close and comfortable. Kyungsoo likes that.

Kyungsoo works Chen open slowly, finger by finger. Chen’s obviously uncomfortable – or he grows uncomfortable – and Kyungsoo grabs his hands, smears lube across his fingers as well. Guides his fingers to Kyungsoo’s .

“What are you doing?” Chen mumbles. He’s usually clear.

“Try it,” Kyungsoo says. Chen looks at Kyungsoo – dazed, at first, before he focuses. Rubs a finger tentatively across Kyungsoo’s hole, watching him closely.

Kyungsoo lets his legs fall open, tries to relax. “Okay,” he says.

It’s a probing, burning feeling Kyungsoo can never get used to.

“I’m okay,” Kyungsoo reassures. He tries to keep his hips from tilting away.

“We’re so bad at this,” Chen sighs.

Kyungsoo thought it would be – romantic, not that he would admit it – like this. It’s just awkward.

He inches closer. Flings a leg over Chen’s, and at his collarbone. Up the side of his face, to his ears.

He touches Chen’s tail, with his other hand. it.

Chen’s legs fall open. Kyungsoo’s fingers slide inside by an entire knuckle.

“Do that again,” Chen says. He abandons Kyungsoo’s , gripping at his arms instead.

Kyungsoo feels his way to the base of Chen’s tail, caressing the base of it, where fur melts into smooth skin.

Chen makes a strangled noise. Kyungsoo rotates his fingers, scissoring them as best as he can. It’s hot and hopelessly tight, so tight it has to be hurting Chen.

It takes a while, and a lot of , but Kyungsoo’s fingers slide in fully, at last. They hit something, and Chen gurgles. Coughs, eyes not focusing.

Tilts his hips, against Kyungsoo’s fingers again.

It gets easier, when Kyungsoo knows where to go. He works Chen open, massaging that small bump as best as he can.

Chen’s hard again, by the time Kyungsoo slides three fingers in.

Kyungsoo’s hot for Chen, but he’s also relieved. Chen should feel the same way – he mutters finally, as Kyungsoo takes his fingers out, positioning his carefully.

“ is a lot of work,” Chen says. “Uhn. Uhn. Ahhh. Ah. Ah wait.”

Kyungsoo’s not even a third of the way in.

“Ahh,” Chen says, as Kyungsoo moves again, jostling Chen. “Ah!”
 

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says, through gritted teeth.

“Just go ahead,” Chen says, and Kyungsoo slides home and Chen goes “,” eyes rolling. Teeth clenching.

“Is it-“

“Feels strange,” Chen says, voice tensed. “Let me. Uhn. Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo rotates his hips, again.

“To the left,” Chen says, pitch kicking up. “Kyungsoo.”

It’s with a great sense of relief that the picks up, after that. Kyungsoo just has to find that spot, and he finds it almost half the time, which is – he’ll do better next time. Chen hitches his legs around Kyungsoo’s waist, arching his back like a natural.

He comes before Kyungsoo, which is a relief.

Kyungsoo coughs and splutters as his hips stutter to a stop in Chen, at last.

Chen pats Kyungsoo on his head.

“We’ll have to practice,” he says. Kyungsoo snorts. “I’m tired,” he says.

They do practice, for the rest of the week. They get a lot better at it.

That’s what Kyungsoo learns from Chen – that you can work on relationships. That you have to pick up the fear and mistakes before you can be honest.

--

Kyungsoo goes back to work, and Chen and Baekhyun to classes. Xiumin gets Chanyeol a job in Epigram books, editing fiction.

Life goes on, and it’s easier to breathe.

--

There’s someone waiting outside Chanyeol’s house, one day, when they all come back from dinner.

“Tao,” Chanyeol says, surprised. “Hey,” the man says. “I know it’s sudden, but I got a job offer-“

“You!” Kyungsoo knows him. Suho interviewed him, via Skype, a few months ago. He’s the new staff hired for their team.

“Oh. Hey. Anyway, Chanyeol, I’m moving back, and I need this place – I don’t mind sharing –“

“You can move in,” Kyungsoo says, to Chanyeol. “You, too,” he adds, to Baekhyun.

Kyungsoo offered, before, months ago. Chanyeol rejected him, saying that it wasn’t a good idea.

This time, Chanyeol simply says, “ok.” Baekhyun drops his head on Chen’s shoulder, hand in Chanyeol’s, yawn directed at Kyungsoo.

Chen’s smile lights his whole face up. This is how Chen is meant to be seen; framed in sunlight, smile wide.

I think I was looking for a way to write about this, all the time. About this present that closes in around us, that both holds us tight and chokes us with inescapability. About everything that leads up to this present, everything – everything sad and everything good. Everything I cannot face, that I have to face.

I’m grateful I got to write this, because what I write is mine. Everything is mine, even the fear.

• D.O Kyungsoo.