“So… what you're trying to say is that you liked Luhan and Baekhyun at the same time?”
Chanyeol grimaced. Hearing the problem he refused to deal with a few years ago described as such, though it defined what he went through quite well, it sure sounded odd. He couldn’t blame Kyungsoo, or even be offended by his bewildered face because, albeit he was the main character of the story he just recounted, even he had a hard time understanding his younger self.
He had liked Luhan. Long after the older boy had expressed his love for Sehun through affectionated gazes and heart-warming smiles, long after he had admitted it shyly to a nine years old Chanyeol who had accepted the revelation with a wide smile while ignoring the pang in his chest, long after Luhan had left the country, unknowingly taking a bit of Chanyeol’s heart with him that Chanyeol never got back.
Chanyeol had liked Luhan for a long time. Long after he belonged to Sehun.
The pain to witness the person you like being happy with someone else, it wasn’t easy to ignore it, but Chanyeol had wanted to pretend he could.
“Did Sehun know… about…”
Kyungsoo sounded unsure, as though he was searching for words, or was afraid that saying them would hurt Chanyeol. He was sitting on his bed, next to Chanyeol and looking at him with big eyes that divulged compassion and friendliness. A thin smile was enough for him to stop, a clear sign that Chanyeol understood what he wanted to ask, and a small nod was sufficient to approve his question.
Sehun knew. He never asked, nor did Chanyeol told him anything, actually, Sehun probably discovered Chanyeol’s secret by catching the stares and stealing glances being sent in his boyfriend’s direction. Sehun had always been protective, and could grow particularily possessive when Luhan was involved, so Chanyeol’s different behavior whenever Luhan was around was probably obvious to someone like Sehun.
Sehun knew, but he never uttered or showed any complain about it. That is, until Chanyeol told him about Luhan’s calls. Chanyeol couldn’t bear it anymore. The weight on his shoulders was getting heavier every time he heard Luhan’s breathing on the other line, waiting to know about Sehun’s whereabouts. Chanyeol never failed to deliver them, because, even if it meant checking on a sulking Sehun who sometimes didn’t bother hiding how annoyed he was to see him, it also meant reducing Luhan’s anxiousness, thus it was fine. That was what Chanyeol thought because, no, it wasn’t fine. It was unfair. It was unfair that he had to carry all those thoughts that no one knew about. Keeping his feelings hidden from Luhan, keeping the calls hidden from Sehun, knowing that it was wrong but keeping it still, keeping, keeping, keeping. It was too much secrets to keep.
It was too much.
“Sehun reacted calmly,” Chanyeol said, saving Kyungsoo from the trouble of asking another question. “He was mad, really mad, but he didn’t snap or anything. He just… accepted it.”
Kyungsoo nodded slowly. “What about you?”
“What about your feelings? Do you still… like Luhan?”
Do you still like Luhan?
Chanyeol likes music. He likes singing and playing instruments. He likes writing about his feelings, finding a rhythm, then mingling the lyrics and melody together to create a new song. Writing relieves him from the pain of being lonely or sad. Filling a bland sheet of paper with his feelings feels oddly satisfying, but sharing his mood with someone who could listen was even better. So whenever he hit the last note of his song, indicating the end of his performance at the local cafe, seeing the little crowd clapping and cheering was thrilling. It was as though they understood how he was feeling. It felt as though they understood him.
He wasn’t that known, he didn’t have much fans, especially compared to the other performers, but he received congratulating notes every week in the form of encouraging messages and considerate feedbacks. Chanyeol was surprised when he had read the first one, but he quickly grew accustomated to the smile they never failed to give him. Only a few words were written on the colorful papers, along with funnily drawn emojis sometimes yet, they managed to bring pastel hues in Chanyeol's life that lightened up his world with cheerfulness, giving him happiness during those dark times and inspiration for his lyrics.
Chanyeol was thankful to finally share a secret he didn’t mind keeping.
Chanyeol looked up, blinking.
“Be honest with yourself, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said with a warm smile, patting his back. “It’s okay to like someone, even when it seems wrong. Trust me, ignoring your feelings is the worst things to do because you can never truly suppress them. They won’t disappear till you accept them, and only then you’ll be able to move on.”
Chanyeol pondered Kyungsoo’s words a moment, though quickly coming to the conclusion that he was right. Absolutely so. It was kind of hard to accept that he was doing something wrong and that he couldn’t do anything about it. Which isn’t true as it was his choice not to acknowledge it, intentionally pushing it aside because merely thinking about it scared him. Kyungsoo's words made him realize that he wasn't wrong; just acting wrongly.
Be honest with yourself.
Chanyeol finally understood what his heart has been pleading him to do for years.
Baekhyun was rushing towards his room, eager to talk with Kyungsoo.
Everything didn’t go as expected but it was fine, it wasn't over. He was maybe standing on top of a precarious ladder, but he wouldn't fall.
Reaching for the knob, Baekhyun was about to open the door when he heard someone speaking. He halted his movements and put his ear on the door, listening carefully. There wasn't one but two voices. One of them clearly belonged to Kyungsoo, but the other was really low, too muffled for Baekhyun to determine who was the owner of that voice. It was certainly a guy, because it sounded deep and a bit rasp, but also freaking y; a heavenly mixture that had Baekhyun's heart reacting instantly. Baekhyun blinked. As if the door was made of fire, he jumped back, nearly screaming but thankfully covering his mouth in time with both his hands to stop the sound from getting out.
His man, the ing perfection itself, was inside his room, perhaps sitting on his bed and blessing the furnitures by touching them. His man, Park ing Chanyeol was, right at this instant, gracing the walls of his