Apartment 114 is home to one Byun Baekhyun, the worst neighbour anyone could ever wish for. This well-known fact has nothing to do with the boy's personality; quite the opposite, actually, since most of the people around apartment 114 have managed to keep complaints to a minimum for his sake, as Byun Baekhyun is polite, and cheerful, and kind. He opens door to the other tenants, helps the old lady on the 8th floor carry her groceries even when she tells him it's completely alright, it's just one bag, and makes sure to answer every "Hello" with a warm smile and an answering greeting. So, no, the problem with Byun Baekhyun is not his personality at all- it's his habit of blasting out music at all hours of the day (and night).  And while his taste is objectively alright to everyone living in the nearby apartments, the constant noise gets to be a bit too much after a while, even for the greatest of music-lovers. 

So, his neighbours groan and sigh when a new song comes on, knowing very well that Baekhyun will be playing it non-stop for the next couple of days, maybe even weeks, until his new work is finished and dried up. Sometimes, he'll listen to it even afterwards, just to make sure he'd gotten everything just right. You see- Byun Baekhyun can see sounds. His ears register them like any other person's would, but as they travel through the nerve-connections in his brain, they split and go in two opposite directions, and the end result is a blast of fireworks appearing in his mind- colours, of all hues and shades and blends, representing every sound he hears.

It's been like this his whole life, and Baekhyun grew up thinking that others see sounds the same way he does. It was only upon entering high school when Byun Baekhyun was faced with the harsh reality of how very different he was from his classmates, who couldn't understand why, when he'd tell them about a new song he'd heard on the radio, he'd describe it in colours instead of actual sounds. "It's like the sky just before the Sun rises, you know? Kinda dark blue, still, but there's brightness in the middle where the sunshine is starting to appear."

It took him years to figure out that he's different, and just a moment of laughter coming from the other children to stop talking about the colours of his songs. 

Painting turned out to be a very good form of release for the colours clogging up his mind with every sound his ears registered over time. For his sixteenth birthday, Baekhyun asked for an aisle, the biggest canvas his parents could find, some brushes, and a pack of oil colours. He got his wish on the morning of his birthday and, instead of celebrating with the people from school that were supposed to be his friends, Baekhyun spent the entire day blasting his favourite song through the weak speakers of his phone, smudging sloshes of paint the same colour as the sounds he heard. 

...

Baekhyun grins as the song loops back to the beginning again, already dipping his biggest brush into a fresh can of yellow paint and splashing it all the way across his floor-to-ceiling canvas. This is his biggest painting yet, and it's been a work in progress for a good while now- almost two weeks, and not even halfway done. The problem he's been faced with is a difficult one indeed- he can't get the colours right for some reason. The yellows aren't bright enough, while the dark blues aren't nearly dark enough, and the white doesn't go well between different shades of green. There are half-full cans of paint scattered across the hardwood floor of his big living room, which is completely devoid of furniture at this point, to make room for his art supplies. The only piece of actual furniture he owns is the bed, which is showed into a faraway corner of his bedroom, next to the piles and piles of finished pieces and old supplies that he can't bring himself to throw away. 

He's long ago grown used to not owning a clean item of clothing, with every shirt permanently stained with colours of all sorts, and all his jeans ripped and sporting similar stains. His floor, too, is a mess- covered in thick layers of paint that just wouldn't come off, so why bother trying to clean it anyway? 

With a groan, Baekhyun drops the brush and lets it splash across the floor and his bare feet, leaving bright-but-not-bright-enough-yellow marks in its wake. 

"I give up", he grumbles, pouting, and pads towards the front door before slipping on a pair of shoes. His stomach growls in protest at the lack of food he's had today, and he gives it a sympathetic rub, muttering something about 'i could go for some pastries right now' as he slams the door of his apartment shut without locking up behind himself. No one would bother taking off with his paint supplies, anyway, and, if they did, it would be fine because he still hasn't found the right colours yet.

The bakery across the street is open late on weekends, and he passes the threshold at two minutes past 10pm, calling out an order to the employee behind the counter. Though, when he looks up, ready to greet his usual server- Kyungsoo, the one with big, owlish eyes and a soft spot for his co-worker with pink hair- he's greeted with a wide but unfamiliar grin. 

"Coming right up!", the boy behind the counter tells him, in a deep, cheerful voice that he sees in dark hues of red, and it doesn't match his wide, caramel, puppy-like eyes. Baekhyun takes note of him immediately- the boy is very tall, and that's saying something because to Baekhyun everyoneis tall, and his hair is bleached into a silvery-blonde that reminds Baekhyun of a song he'd heard a few months ago, with a particular chord that struck him with almost the exact same shade. 

The boy turns back around, sliding over a cup of coffee, "Bit of milk, two sugars", he grins, and a paper bag full of creamy, puffy pastries. When he speaks again, telling Baekhyun the price of his order, the shorter boy sees it like a sunset he'd witnessed on vacation once, sitting on a sandy beach and watching it consume the entire sky in reds and oranges and just a hint of yellow, too. It's been a while since he's seen a voice like this- deep in sound but warm in colour- and Baekhyun is momentarily stunned in fascination. 

He hands over the money wordlessly, trying to memorize the boy's colours even though it's clearly in violation of his rules. 

1) Don't see people in colours, because you're different and they'll leave, and then there will be no more colours left. 

2) Don't let yourself paint people's colours. Ever. Reasons stated above.

3) Don't tell people about the colours unless you know without a doubt that they're worth trusting. 

As he heads out, there is a dark-orange shade of a setting Sun that's just about to disappear under the pitch black horizon, as the boy wishes him a good night. He's too busy trying to forget the colours, to wash his mind of the boy's sunset, to answer back. 

...

Baekhyun tries to go back to the painting, three days in a row, without success. All he can think about is a warm sunset just before nightfall, and a deep, rough voice hidden behind a toothy grin. He hasn't gone back to the bakery, in fear of hearing the colours again and having them consume his life further than he's already allowed them to.

This is dangerous. His rules are there for a reason. There's only so much pain a heart can take before it turns cold, and his is at its very limit. 

A beautiful boy with a wide smile and a sunset voice could crack his heart, already bruised beyond repair, right down the middle and in half. 

...

It's a month after that night when Baekhyun summons up the courage to go back to the bakery, having learned the employee's schedule by observing through the big windows of his living room and telling himself that his behaviour isn't creepy at all. That he's not being completely irrational. 

Kyungsoo's shift started two hours ago, and it's safe to go in and buy a few fluffy pastries to much on until dinner. He walks through the doorway of the coffee shop, calling out his usual order, and doesn't look up in time to see who's behind the counter. Digging through his pockets for money, Baekhyun doesn't see him yet, and the boy behind the counter is busy juggling cups of scalding hot coffee to answer him like he had last time. It isn't until he's set the cups down and looked at the new customer, that the boy smiles again. 

"It's you!", he says breathlessly, and Baekhyun's mind erupts in a familiar shade of red, followed with splashes of orange and a new shade of mahogany that he'd never seen before. It makes his heart stutter inside its cage, and he doesn't dare to look up, well aware, already, of the rule he's broken twice now.

He nods, soundlessly, and listens as the boy rummages around behind the counter, praying to whatever got there is that he'll keep quiet. So Baekhyun could leave this place in peace and hole himself up in his apartment for another month, or until he's positive that Kyungsoo's on his shift. Why isn't he on his shift now?

"Bit of milk, two sugars?", the boy asks, and there goes that plan.  Baekhyun nods again, too uncertain in the stability of his own voice to even try and answer, and the boy huffs a laugh. "Just like last time.", he he jokes, and his teasing tone is the colour of a burning ember.

"Y-yeah.", Baekhyun mutters uneasily. His mind and heart aren't cooperating at the moment.

You'll get hurt again, he tells his heart, which is struggling like mad against his rib-cage, trying to get closer to the boy who is just an arms reach away. No one's gonna be there to pick up the pieces after it happens. 

"There you go.", the boy tells him in the same, cheerful tone he must use with all of his customers. Baekhyun has to remind himself of this: the boy is working here, and he is a customer, and it's only common courtesy to be this nice to your customers. It's all professional. He's doesn't see the colour of Baekhyun's stutter when he mutters a 'thank you' before sliding him money and not waiting long enough to get his change back. 

...

Against his better judgement, and the well-being of his heart and what remains of his sanity, Baekhyun goes back to the bakery the next day. He's just seen Kyungsoo walk out, done for the day, walking hand-in-hand with his pink-haired co-worker and laughing about something. They look happy, he thinks, and ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that tells him You could be happy, too.

"The usual?", the boy asks as soon as Baekhyun approaches the counter, and all he can do is nod in response.

A yam-orange shade appears just on the edge of the horizon, forcing him to inhale sharply, because this is not normal. People's colours don't change this much, this often. No one has ever been around long enough for a single shift in a single shade, let alone a brand new colour altogether. 

"You don't talk much, do you?", the boy asks him curiously, intensifying the deep red hues of the setting sun. 

Baekhyun shrugs and clears his throat, swallowing down a lump that lodges itself painfully, somewhere near his erratically-beating heart. The sunset shifts, dramatically, swirling into a pile of fallen autumn leaves, and Baekhyun's almost certain that he's a goner by now. 

"This one's on the house.", he hears the deep rumble of the taller boy's voice inform him, and he's too busy blinking against the pressure behind his eyes to think of an adequate reply, instead muttering a quick "thank you" before rushing out of the bakery again. He misses the grin on the boy's face, teasing and flirty and hopeful, and is completely shocked when his eyes land on a phone number written in a messy scrawl across his paper cup. 

- Enjoy the coffee! xx Chanyeol , he reads.

You could be happy, too.

Baekyun leaves the unfinished coffee on a table in his bedroom, already piled with art supplies and books and empty cups that he's never bothered to wash. He burrows underneath the warm covers of his bed, which smell of detergent and paint-thinner, and tries to get the image of scarlet leaves out of his mind. 

...

Kyungsoo is working the next time he walks into the bakery, and he has to ignore the sudden, unexpected pang of disappointment upon seeing his friend behind the counter, instead of the increasingly-familiar sunset chuckle, and the deep autumn voice. 

"How come you don't see my colours?", Kyungsoo asks him as they sit at one of the corner tables, away from prying eyes and loud voices, during his friend's break.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and gives him a pointed look, earning an understanding nod in reply. 

"Right, the rules, I know.", his friend mutters, resting his chin on top of his clasped hands. "Then why do you see his?", he asks. 

Of course Baekhyun had to tell his best- and probably only- friend about what's been causing him to slowly and steadily lose his mind over the past few weeks. The only problem is that the cause of his emotional issues is Kyungsoo's co-worker, which kind of complicates things, but it also doesn't, because Kyungsoo's always been good at compartmentalizing. 

"I tried to stop but they keep changing!", Baekhyun whines into his hands, letting his forehead thunk painfully against the plastic surface of the table. "I've never had colours change before... they always appear in the same patterns whenever I hear the same thing over and over. But with his colours it's like... I don't know what it's like. I'm going insane!" 

Kyungsoo pats him on the head, as a way of comfort that doesn't really work at all, and looks at him sympathetically. 

"Maybe it's time you broke your rules...", he tries, quietly, as if Baekhyun is a scared animal that could dash away at any moment. "Maybe he's an exception." 

Baekhyun stays behind to think about his friends words, long after Kyungsoo goes back to work with a kind smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

...

To: probably a mistake (11:04pm)

- do u wanna go out for coffee tomorrow?

To: probably a mistake (11:04pm)

- this is byun baekhyun btw 

Baekhyun types out the messages and facepalms upon realizing that Chanyeol probably doesn't even know who 'Byun Baekhyun' is. He's about to elaborate, or possibly toss his phone out the window and hope it dies tragically without receiving a reply from the other boy, when there's a sudden green noise of an incoming message. 

From: probably a mistake (11:05pm)

- ah! so u did see the number i wrote \(^_^)/

From: probably a mistake (11:05pm) 

- come by the bakery during lunch break, i'll get us *free* coffee uwu

He's grinning down at his phone without realizing it, and his fingers shake as he types out the reply. 

To: Chanyeol (11:07pm)

- wb free ~pastries? 

The reply arrives no more than half a minute later. 

From: Chanyeol (11:08pm) 

- that could be arranged *3*