Baekhyun thinks it's the 2nd week he's woken up alone.

It’s the 2nd week he’s drawn from the depths of sleep without the familiar weight of his husband’s chest pressed against his back, his strong arms wrapped around his thin frame, or his hair tickling his cheek.

It's the 2nd week he hasn't been awoken by large hands and thick fingers tickling his skin, dancing against his sides in spirals and pirouettes, or soft kisses fluttering against his neck.

It's the 2nd week his body feels this fatigued, his mouth idly in the stale air of gritty, dirty ashes – cigarette smoke and nicotine – toxins still stuck to his husband's gums from the night before, not at all reminiscent of the flavor of the kiss they had shared before Baekhyun curled up in bed and Chanyeol left him to step out on the balcony, leaning against the railing of woven metals, iron cold against his bare arms as he blew puffs of smoke and negative memories, thoughts, and experiences into the polluted night sky, drowning out his worries from the day and covering up the taste of Baekhyun’s sweet lips.

Baekhyun used to lie there and watch him, sometimes closing his eyes as if hoping that maybe he too could share a small slice of the world his husband was venturing through alone, until Chanyeol returned and slipped underneath the sheets, drawing Baekhyun into his chest and pressing a kiss to his nape, his soft breaths against his ear as he fell asleep.

His eyes slowly open, thin chestnut strands of hair curling against his eyelashes and falling lazily in front of his face; some stick to the corner of his lips or rest atop his cheeks, swollen with sleep. His eyes focus on Chanyeol, staring back at him with the same frown that has settled on his thin lips for the past week or so. Blank. Cold. Disconnected. Chanyeol breaks their eye contact as he closes his eyes and rolls over, heaving another large sigh, his shoulders rising as he takes in the deep breath of air and let it out, deflating in defeat. He slowly lifts the covers from his body and sits up.

It's the eleventh day. Baekhyun knows this. He's been counting.

Counting the number of times Chanyeol fumbles against the nightstand in the morning looking for his glasses, perhaps knocking over a glass of water that he had forgotten about from the night before, sending it crashing to the floor with a soft curse as he rubs his temples. Counting the clicks of his lighter as he brings his shaky hands to his lips to light another cigarette. Counting the number of steps it takes for Chanyeol to wander in the limbo between his bedside and the wall, merely hoping he won't trip over a stray shoe that had been displaced the night before or an object his husband had meaninglessly tossed down.

The room has been cleaner recently, Baekhyun realizes as his eyes follow his husband, steadily walking with his hand along the wall and counting his steps to the door. He tries not to think of Chanyeol dropping his cigarette and stepping upon it, and he tries not to worry too much, because he's seen Chanyeol do this before, adjusting to this new way of life. Baekhyun still wants to stand beside him and help.

There is nothing that Baekhyun doesn’t know about his husband. At least, that’s what he’d say. He can pick out Chanyeol’s favorite shirt from the multiple polos he keeps in their closet, and he can predict which one he plans to wear based on the tune he’s humming when he wakes up. Baekhyun can describe Chanyeol’s early morning routine: wake up, wake him up, shower (perhaps together), get dressed, make breakfast, eat breakfast, prepare to leave. Kiss Baekhyun’s forehead, tell him he’s beautiful, head off to work.

It has changed recently. Chanyeol is slower. He doesn't hum anymore. He starts his mornings with a cigarette and ends his nights with another. He doesn't wake up Baekhyun. He showers alone. He doesn't wear his favorite Polo on Wednesdays anymore.

But Chanyeol has started acting strangely as well. He’s more stubborn than usual, smaller things upset him more easily, and he’s winning arguments that Baekhyun has never lost. It leaves Baekhyun quite dumbfounded, rather, such as on the day his mood was particularly dry when this all started, and Baekhyun was stuttering in attempts to please him, apologies and offers to make things better tumbling from his lips, but Chanyeol just shoved him off with nothing near to an explanation. Baekhyun knew there was something, a toxic secret, that his husband was keeping from him, locked behind his sealed lips that used to be so easy for Baekhyun to pry open.

His hands find the doorknob, yet he doesn't twist it. Rather he pauses at the door and glances back to their bed, unmade white sheets curling around Baekhyun's thin frame as though he's leaving his husband lying within a dream cloud where nothing could hurt him in this state of ignorant bliss, unknowing that it was the thin air of ignorance he thought was protecting him that was actually smothering him. And Baekhyun holds his breath, waiting to see if today would be the day he’d finally tell him.

Chanyeol puffs out another cloud of smoke as he exits, leaving Baekhyun behind in their darkened room.

Baekhyun closes his eyes, waits for a while, and follows him out of the room.

Moments like these are when Baekhyun thanks Chanyeol's decision to buy a one-story house, so he doesn’t have a daily heart attack thinking of him making his way down the stairs.

Baekhyun peeks around the corner, eyes focusing on his husband standing at the stove in the kitchen, cracking eggs into a bowl. Chanyeol has aged the equivalent of five years in these past couple of days. His shiny black hair has lost its sheen, his skin is pale and he looks much too thin, his smile weakened by yellowed teeth and chapped lips that have forgotten how to smile, his eyes… well.

He has been trying not to focus on the way his already fake smiles don’t reach his eyes, the highlight of the morning light streaming in through the windows providing a soft glaze over them rather than the usually bubbly dots of light that Baekhyun used to love. They have been dark, unfocused and distracted, with wrinkles and dark circles tugging at the corners and bottom of them in folds of skin from lack of sleep and stress.

Baekhyun’s been noticing every change in his husband in the last few days, from his appearance to his work ethic and sleeping patterns, simply because Baekhyun is so lost in Chanyeol that he knows too much about him not to notice the subtle differences in his husband’s behavior and appearance, and these are the types of things you notice about the people you love. He wants nothing more than to walk over to him and wipe all of his worries away with the touch of his hands, dispel his fears with a soft kiss to his chapped lips, to let him know that everything is okay with a smile, but for Chanyeol to rely on him and lean on him for things like this, he must be strong himself.

The sound of eggs sizzling in a fry pan brings Baekhyun's attention back to Chanyeol, struggling to cut small sausages with a knife, and Baekhyun winces every time Chanyeol almost nicks the tips of his fingers with the knife. It's happened before when Chanyeol first started getting used to this condition, but when he asked about the myriad of badly placed bandages covering his fingers, Chanyeol shrugged him off with a soft mutter of “work incident.” Baekhyun would just sigh, nod, and never believe him. Chanyeol knows his way around their kitchen better than anyone, even with his eyes closed, but Baekhyun still finds it difficult to just watch, even though he personally is useless with helping out in the kitchen.

Knowing that his peripheral vision has already faded, Baekhyun boldly steps out from behind the wall to push a bowl of water toward him when Chanyeol was looking for it, and he stops and watches his husband cook, admiration for the man he loves lighting up a small smile on his face.

It's been eleven days. Eleven days since Chanyeol has begun going blind. Eleven days that he still hasn't told Baekhyun what's going on.

When Chanyeol has finished his morning routine, Baekhyun follows him outside.

"Leaving already?" he asks, faking a yawn.

"No," Chanyeol responds, his voice hoarse and tired. "Just getting some air. It's a nice day."

Baekhyun stretches and holds up a hand to his eyes as he steps into the sunlight. "It is."

Chanyeol looks back to him as Baekhyun approaches, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him into a hug with a soft sigh, and they stay there, pressed up against each other for a few seconds as Baekhyun closes his eyes and focuses on the touch of their warm skin on each other’s.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, turning his attention toward him. He places his hand on Baekhyun’s cheek, then draws it up to his forehead to push back his hair. Baekhyun lowers his eyesight as Chanyeol leans forward to press his lips to his forehead and hold them there for a couple of heart-stopping seconds. His smile is soft and sincere. “You look beautiful today, love.”

Baekhyun glances up to him, barely able to meet his eyes, and gives him a small smile in response. He pushes himself up to the tips of his toes to press his lips to Chanyeol’s in a soft, chaste kiss as Chanyeol’s arms work their way around his waist. Baekhyun pulls away first to rest his head against Chanyeol’s broad chest, closing his eyes and letting the sound of his heartbeat calm him.

In his old robe, ripping in some places and stretched with time, his face unwashed and his hair unstyled, his eyes red with fatigue and worried wrinkles tugging at his skin, Chanyeol thinks he’s beautiful.

He almost scoffs.

You can’t even see me that well, giant.

Rather, he sighs against Chanyeol's chest, letting the heat of the sun sink into their skin and set their mood that Baekhyun would rather not rain upon, and he thinks about how much he loves to be enveloped in Chanyeol's arms like this, and how he’d love to listen to him call him beautiful over and over again until his voice fades into monotony and the words scratch like a song on a vinyl record far past its prime yet still on repeat. Like it’s just another day to him, and this is just another obligation.

Like it’s routine.

Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol even means it anymore.

---------------

Baekhyun has always loved the medical field and children. People often ask how he can deal with pediatrics of all things, but not even snot-nosed, red-faced, crying children or being scolded for taking a lollipop or two (or a handful) from the bag back to his office could make him want to leave his post.

It was merely two weeks ago that everything still seemed normal in the clinic, though he was unsure whether the others had noticed the change in the atmosphere or if it was just a storm over Baekhyun’s head that was affecting his outlook on everything.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae had called, popping into his office on that particularly slow day, only disturbing Baekhyun from crossword puzzles and scrolling through his phone looking at pictures he and Chanyeol had taken about a week before. “I saw your husband this morning; did you see him?”

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asked, and he could almost hear Jongdae laughing, about to ask ‘what other husband do you have?’ when Baekhyun spoke. “He didn’t visit me or anything.”

“Perhaps he had to come in for something; he didn’t say why he was here.”

Baekhyun tilted his head. “He did? He didn’t seem sick this morning though...”

“He’s human, Baek,” Jongdae laughed. “Even he needs a doctor visit every once in a while,” he said, tucking his hands into his white coat pockets.

Baekhyun leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across the desk. “Well you know what they say: a fool never catches a cold.”

“Not true,” a voice interrupted, “Jongdae’s been in my check-up room more than once.”

“Yi–Yixing!” Jongdae said turning to the other doctor.

“Not like I mind,” Yixing smiled, tucking a lollipop as red as Jongdae’s face back into his mouth.

“You’re a pediatric doctor,” Baekhyun mentioned, amusement tickling at his voice.

“And Jongdae’s a child; I don’t see the problem.”

Jongdae groaned, waving his hands between them to cut off their conversation before dragging a protesting Yixing away from Baekhyun, who smiled as the two left.

Upon returning home, he had planned to ask Chanyeol about his visit to the clinic, but his husband was acting strangely, averting his eyes and speaking sparsely, the smile that was usually present on his lips when he returned home had slipped off like melted butter, an obvious fake one quickly replacing his frown when Baekhyun asked about it.

Baekhyun had asked if anything was wrong. Chanyeol gave him a long hug and finally whispered that there wasn’t a problem before pushing him off to bed.

The morning was a mess, from Baekhyun tickling an already awake Chanyeol, probably disturbing him from his deep thoughts or tired contemplation about the day, to Chanyeol yelling and locking himself in the bathroom. From Baekhyun banging on the door shouting he was sorry and asking if anything was wrong, to Chanyeol stomping out of the bathroom without saying a word to his husband. The morning consisted of mumbled consistent apologies that fell on ears that didn’t want to hear them, and were met with silence or tired mumbles of “Baekhyun, stop,” but Baekhyun didn’t stop and he wouldn’t stop, even when he followed him out of the house in that old robe of his, until Chanyeol stopped him, begging him to just leave him and allow him to head to work on his own. He only managed to leave him after he gave him a frown, a large hug, an “I love you,” and a defeated look as he turned away from him and walked alone.

It had taken a day or two for Baekhyun to remember the visit to the clinic and make any type of connection between it and his husband’s mood. Amidst the confusion and chaos that had been storming its way through their house, Baekhyun had completely forgotten about what was probably just a trivial trip to surprise his him or to get medication for a slight cough. Baekhyun didn’t think much about it at first, returning to work for the day and sneaking a peek at the medical chart of a certain Park Chanyeol, until the words blurred in his mind as he read further, and he was taking in no information besides his visit to the optometrist, and his mind started branching off into myriads of places as he stared blankly at the papers, wondering if there was another Park Chanyeol or if charts had gotten mixed up, or if perhaps it was a mistake, but no, he had been fairly distant recently and his clumsiness had been worse than usual, but he wasn’t asking him for anything and he didn’t tell him anything, and–

“Baekhyun?” A voice snaps Baekhyun out of his memories and returns to the present, the cream color of his office walls welcoming him back along with the cold, black coffee next to his fingertips and the pile of work collecting on his keyboard.

He groans and rubs his face before glancing at the clock on the wall and back down to the chart that the nurse slid onto his desk. She gives him a small smile. “Last one before you can go.”

On his lunch break, he quickly heads over to Chanyeol’s office to watch him work. Chanyeol blows a long strand of black hair from his eyes as he set another wall to the model house he was building. Baekhyun stands there silently, worried that the work of an architect may become too strenuous, and he might have to change his station from something he enjoys so much after his vision completely fades, but he holds these thoughts in the back of his mind as Chanyeol pushes up his glasses and squints, focusing hard on the plans beside him. He doesn’t know when or how this habit of following Chanyeol everywhere started, from the mornings, until he was at work, and now at lunch time, but he hopes it’s not becoming an obsession.

A female co-worker of his bumps his side. “Here again, Baekhyunnie?”

Baekhyun smiles and holds a finger to his lips, checking back to Chanyeol to make sure that he didn’t hear the mention of his name, but whenever Chanyeol gets really into his work, everything else in the surrounding area is drowned out by his focus. “Like always.”

She gives a soft, muffled laugh. “I don’t know why I ask; I should just start expecting you.” Baekhyun gives a smile in response as they both turn back to Chanyeol, focusing hard on the plans as he draws in another line. She sets a hand on her hip and takes a sip of what Baekhyun assumes is coffee from the mug in her hand. “He’s okay. He’s always okay. I bet he’d still be okay even if you didn’t show up for once.”

“It’s better to see him here than to see him in the clinic, isn’t it?” Baekhyun sighs, watching Chanyeol’s tongue poking out from the corner of his lips as he focused on his task. “It keeps me at ease,” he says, and he looks particularly small at that moment, stress tugging down at his entire body and Baekhyun is working every second to not be crushed by the weight of it. “Plus I can never see enough of his face in one day, if I’m honest.” He turns on his heels away from his husband and smiles back to the woman curling a strand of strawberry blonde hair around her thin finger. “Seeing him again during shift hours is quite a treat to me.”

"Why don't you go talk to him?" she asks, and Baekhyun shakes his head.

"He doesn't want me here, ruining his sacred work space and alone time," he adds with a tired chuckle and drops a brown paper bag into her hands. “Give this to him for me, would you? He left it on the counter this morning.”

She gives him a quick, affirmative nod, and he tucks his hands in his pockets as he leaves. Baekhyun doesn’t know who knows or what they know. He doesn’t know whether they figured it out, asked, or if Chanyeol has told them on his own. He just finds it difficult to believe that he could share such news so easily with anyone except Baekhyun, because when it came to him, even mentioning it was taboo.

---------------

The morning of the twelfth day is the same as those before it.

Wake up. Watch Chanyeol. The daily cycles repeat.

On a morning not particularly different than any of those preceding it, Chanyeol shifts in bed, and Baekhyun is awoken by the movement, tired of waking up to empty pillows and messy sheets, or unanswered questions and obvious lies. He slowly reaches out, his fingers curling in the back of his shirt as he stops Chanyeol from getting up and leaving him behind like he has for the past couple of days.

“Yeol,” Baekhyun mumbles, drowsily rubbing at his eyes with the other hand as he curls up against his husband’s back. “Don’t leave yet.”

Chanyeol looks back to him, and Baekhyun can feel selfishness clawing at him from within as his fingers tighten in his shirt, and he presses his nose up against his back, his familiar scent comforting when his actions weren’t as Chanyeol-like anymore. He takes in a shallow breath, and his body relaxes like Chanyeol is a drug that he just can’t get enough of.

Chanyeol clears his throat and turns back around to run his thumb down Baekhyun’s face, rough skin against Baekhyun’s smooth cheeks as though he’s feeling for the same sense of familiarity that Baekhyun was looking for in him, both checking to make sure that they’re still the same. “I need to get ready for work,” Chanyeol says rather unconvincingly.

“Just a few minutes,” Baekhyun murmurs back, sleep clouding his senses as he curls up in the blankets with a small shiver, and he hears a soft sigh coupled with the dip of the bed as Chanyeol rests his head back on his pillow and wraps his arms around his small husband, pulling him into his chest.

Baekhyun knows Chanyeol loves him. He proves it every day with the way he bleeds affection from his actions, his words, his thoughts – everything he does puts Baekhyun first – but Baekhyun's never done well with feeling unappreciated, and watching Chanyeol make his way around the house, his difficulties slowly fading, he can’t help but feel like Chanyeol doesn't need him anymore.

Baekhyun watches Chanyeol adjust to the world around him without him, and feeling lonely in a place that’s supposed to be his home is suddenly a common occurrence. Home doesn’t feel like home anymore without Chanyeol sitting next to him, his arms wrapped around his body or his lips against his skin. And even when he is, there’s an invisible wall between them, one that’s thick yet transparent, and it feels like Chanyeol is in a world that Baekhyun can’t experience, and Baekhyun’s in a world that Chanyeol has unwillingly left behind.

Every day, he watches Chanyeol grow further and further away from him as he's drawn into this new environment guided by sounds and touch, blurred colors, fuzzy white areas and indistinguishable shapes. He grows more comfortable there, getting used to the position of stationary objects, the number of steps from the bed to the wall, the bedroom to the bathroom, the bathroom to the kitchen. He is adapting easily, listening to his senses and leaving Baekhyun behind to watch.

It feels like high school again, with Baekhyun peeking behind walls to catch a glimpse of the tall, handsome man from around the corner. Learning about his schedule, his habits, and his tendencies, trying to fit himself into the cracks and gaps that he observes in his life, until Chanyeol appeared behind him one day, tapping him on the shoulder and asking what he was doing, laughing as Baekhyun jumped away from him, face red with embarrassment, stuttered a quick apology, and ran away, tripping over his shoelaces.

Transition from highschool to college, and Baekhyun is at it again, holding on to his boyfriend’s sweatshirt for longer than he should, just to get him to visit his dorm and perhaps stay a while. Sleeping in his loose t-shirts, wrapped in his familiar scent that has already tainted his pillows and his sheets like a reminder that Chanyeol was there and would come back for him, and he’d lie in bed all day, breathing it in until Chanyeol would open his door and Baekhyun would jump into his arms. Then they’re back to cold winter nights characterized by Chanyeol wrapping his arms around him and Baekhyun cuddling into the warmth pressed against his back, and by then, it’s like Baekhyun has breathed in so much of Chanyeol that his lungs couldn’t forget that sweet intoxication.

Engagement comes quickly after college, then marriage, and suddenly they’re here, repeating the same cycles from egg yolks bleeding over steaming white rice in the mornings and morning kisses, the sticky grains of rice away from their lover’s lips, to borrowing and sleeping in each other’s clothes until their closets are no longer "Chanyeol’s and Baekhyun's", but are rather mixed with “Clothes of Chanyeol's that Baekhyun likes to wear” and “Keep out - Baekhyun’s lingerie,” and the like. To folding into human burritos at night until they’re one lump clumped together underneath the sheets. To waking up to the process of untangling legs and arms, playful laughter creating the background music to their bright spring and summer mornings.

Laughter soon becomes silence or grumbled good mornings and “turn off the lights, Baekhyun, it’s too bright,” as their relationship begins to suffer from this condition. Dying flames and weak attempts to make it survive. Secrets kept behind lock and key, yet stubbornness hardens both of their resolves as Chanyeol learns his way around the house and can make his way out of the door faster, but Baekhyun always finds his way to grip onto him. He’s not letting go. He won’t let go. And he clings to the Chanyeol he knows, wanting to run his finger along the thin thread of time to return back to days when that Chanyeol was more than a memory and remind Chanyeol of who he is and to quit this self-loathing act of his that’s slowly destroying both of them.

Days are long and simplistic. Broken melodies of incorrect piano notes fill the air, black and white keys clashing in dissonance every once in a while with each slip of Chanyeol's fingers until Baekhyun slips underneath his arms and places his fingers between Chanyeol’s in harmony before stealing the light, airy notes from underneath his fingertips. Chanyeol rests his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder, his arms curling around the smaller man’s waist as he continues to play on.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers softly against his neck, “can’t we stay like this forever?”

Baekhyun wants to say yes. Instead he finishes his tune and leans back against Chanyeol, closing his eyes without a response.

---------------

Baekhyun leans back against Chanyeol’s arm one evening, watching the golden and red hues of the sunset be swallowed by the night, and the sound of Chanyeol's acoustic guitar rings loudly in his ears, mistakes minimal as his fingers glide across the strings, the location of each chord and each fret on a map in Chanyeol's mind that he can navigate with his eyes closed. A soft smile sits peacefully on his lips as he closes his eyes and hums, playing a simple tune that Baekhyun sings softly along to.

It’s one of the evenings that life seems to slow around them, and they’re wrapped in comfort and familiarity, cuddled against one another, not needing to say anything or move to feel like everything is balanced and right. But it’s not.

A disease, the name to which Baekhyun can’t remember, the word sour on his lips and twisted by the curl of his tongue, and it’s strange that something so foreign and intangible is corrupting something that he knows so well - something that he’s clung to for years. It’s taking away his husband’s sight, and part of his husband with it, while Baekhyun could only sit nearby as it happens, watching the Chanyeol he knows unravel at the seams, slowly and quietly, yet he refuses to even reach out toward Baekhyun for support.

It was merely blindness, but along with his vision, Chanyeol lost his smile. Chanyeol lost his spark. He’s losing himself.

Baekhyun’s losing him.

It’s as though Chanyeol’s not only blind in terms of sight, but also blind to Baekhyun’s love and his efforts; he feels useless, like even his own husband finds him untrustworthy, but he’s seen the way Chanyeol has been struggling and Baekhyun wants nothing more than to wrap the colors of the sunset that bled from the sky around him like vibrant, warm blankets as they fade into the night, to protect him from the darkness and be his light, be his eyes, be everything that he needs. Baekhyun knows Chanyeol isn’t lacking in anything, and he’s nothing less than he was when he fell in love with him the first time; he just wants to be the thing that makes him feel whole.

Chanyeol would say that with him in his arms, tucked under his chin and pressed against his chest, he feels whole already. Baekhyun filled the hole in his heart years ago, but he was determined to do it again, even if Chanyeol claimed that he was already full of him, and there’s nothing he needs to do to fill him again.

Baekhyun knows Chanyeol doesn’t want his help. He gives it to him anyway.

The morning begins with the scent of black coffee and Baekhyun throwing open the curtain and Chanyeol cringing from the sunlight streaming into the room.

“It’s morning, Chanyeol. Time to get ready,” Baekhyun chirps, and Chanyeol almost covers his head with his pillow, but instead, he looks up to his husband through squinted eyes.

“Why are you awake so early?” he croaks out.

“I made some coffee,” Baekhyun says, holding it under his nose before setting it down on the nightstand. “I also set out your clothes,” he adds with a smile, waving toward an outfit neatly lain out over the edge of the bed. “And I’ve warmed some water for a bath, if you want it.”

Chanyeol rubs his eyes as he sits up, reaching out to find Baekhyun, who takes a step closer so Chanyeol can put his hands on his arms. They slide down to his hands and squeeze them softly. “What are you talking about?” he asks with a yawn.

“Everything’s set and ready for you,” Baekhyun says with a bow, a slight smile set on his lips. “I did it all already so you don’t have to.”

Chanyeol looks up to his husband, and Baekhyun tries not to pay attention to the way his eyes fix somewhere past him, like he’s staring through him, or as though it’s like he isn’t even there. “That wasn’t necessary, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says with a sigh, his hands slipping away to press against the bed as he begins to stand, and Baekhyun’s small smile slowly fades.

“But I did it already anyways, it’s…” Chanyeol walks past him in the midst of his explanation, counting his steps over to the wall, stopping one or two shy as though he doesn’t know that Baekhyun has been watching him do the same thing for the past two weeks, or the way he feels his way along the wall and he’s too humiliated to let his husband watch him. Baekhyun bites his lip and rushes over to his side, taking him by arm to help him along, and Chanyeol looks at him tensely, his arm stiffening. Baekhyun’s hands only tighten on his bicep, a pleading look in his eye for his husband to stop being so stubborn and doing everything alone and can’t you just say thank you and accept this for once?

But Chanyeol frowns at him and gives a small sigh as he tries to slip away from Baekhyun’s grasp, opening his mouth to ask what’s gotten in to him this morning, when he pauses. “Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Baekhyun asks as he sniffs the air, smelling nothing out of the ordinary until he takes a step forward and he catches the faint scent of smoke and something burning, and he quickly recalls what he was doing just before waking up Chanyeol. “Ah, the toast!”

Baekhyun runs from the room, followed by his husband calling his name and nearly tripping in the hallway as Baekhyun runs into the kitchen and retrieves the toast from the toaster.

“I got it, I got it; it’s not burned too badly, I guess...” he grumbles, setting the blackened piece of toast onto a saucer and setting it onto the table, pulling out a chair for Chanyeol’s assistance. He pats it twice and looks up to Chanyeol like a puppy waiting to be given a treat, but instead, his husband slowly glances around the kitchen, hands carefully pressing against the counter as though he’s looking for something.

Baekhyun speaks up, proudly answering questions that Chanyeol hasn’t asked. “I cut the vegetables already too,” Baekhyun chirps as Chanyeol’s hands roam across the countertop and grab at uneven slices of celery, peppers, and carrots as well as clunky chunks of potatoes and their thick discarded peels. “I tried to make you breakfast but the toast and bacon are kind of…”

Baekhyun pauses as he realizes his husband isn’t paying attention to him, and he supposes that starting off the morning with the scent of burnt toast and the mess of broken eggshells spread across his precious granite countertop isn’t necessarily the best scene to wake Chanyeol up to.

“What did you do?” Chanyeol asks breathlessly, looking around his kitchen as everything passes by in blurs of faded, mixed colors that indicate in Chanyeol’s mind that something is wrong, everything is wrong, everything is out of order.

Baekhyun blinks, slowly approaching him meekly with a voice softer than usual as it is whenever he's trying to escape from trouble, like the first time he almost burned the kitchen down trying to make breakfast for Chanyeol's birthday and made a mess of everything from spilled flour, sticky pancake batter, and broken eggs. “I just explained it, what do you mean what did I–”

“What did you do?” he repeats louder, slower, deeper, and Baekhyun cowers back, stuttering as he searched for words that were stuck in his throat.

“I – I was just trying to help, I didn’t–”

Chanyeol’s face is red, and his voice is loud and shakes. “Will you stop sticking your nose into things you don’t belong in? I don’t need your…”

He pauses, staring down to his husband who let out a small whimper, and the anger and rage twisted in Chanyeol’s face slowly melts away.

He stares at Baekhyun for a few more seconds before looking away with a sigh as he pats Baekhyun’s head. “Thank you, Baekhyun, but…” He pauses, curling his fingers to keep himself from exploding. “I’m not in the mood for toast today. Just some fruit sounds nice, doesn’t it? Strawberries, cherries?” Chanyeol says with a strained fake smile, making an obvious effort to not hurt his husband’s feelings, and turns toward the refrigerator, reaching for the handle, and Baekhyun silently watches, his heart sinking as he quickly finds the drawer and fumbles around for the container of strawberries.

Baekhyun feels cold and alone as Chanyeol’s angry voice echos in his head. He tries to take a step forward, his throat dry and his chest tight as Chanyeol pulls out a strawberry and absentmindedly sticks it into his mouth. He feels far away and disconnected, like there’s this thick glass between them, and although Baekhyun is pressing his face against it, screaming at Chanyeol to notice him and break the glass so they could be together again, Chanyeol barely glances at him and makes no effort to overcome this barrier between them, and it slowly becomes obvious that Chanyeol doesn’t need him. He’s always just in the way.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Chanyeol mumbles around the fruit in his mouth and waves his hand around the kitchen. “Clean this, will you?

Baekhyun gives a hesitant nod and a belated verbal answer, and Chanyeol presses his strawberry stained lips to Baekhyun’s. “Thank you,” he whispers with a smile and pokes a strawberry into Baekhyun’s mouth before putting another one into his own and taking off his shirt as he leaves the room.

Baekhyun takes the strawberry from his mouth and sets it down to look at the mess he made, scrunching his nose at this pathetic attempt to win Chanyeol over with some spilled milk and burnt toast. Chanyeol was blind and was still better at this than him. He’s been trying to get Chanyeol to pay attention to him for days, and when he finally does, he angers him, and Baekhyun feels like he’s failed miserably. Great job, Baekhyun. He sighs and leans back against the table, wondering why he even tries.

Baekhyun was a man of spontaneity. Chanyeol was a man of order and routine. Perhaps he shouldn’t mess with that.

By the time he’s done cleaning, Chanyeol is rushing out toward him, smoothing down his shirt. “I might be late,” Chanyeol mumbles, and Baekhyun merely smiles, pleased to see that at least he’s wearing the shirt he had set out for him.

“You’ll be okay,” Baekhyun says, reaching out to adjust his collar, when Chanyeol jerks away from him from the sudden intrusion.

He nods quickly. “Yes, if I hurry; have you seen my bag?”

Baekhyun hands it to him with a tilt of his head. “Would you like me to drive you?” he asks tentatively, holding up the keys like he was prepared for this too.

Chanyeol furrows his brows at the question, struggling to answer. "No, I can drive myself."

Baekhyun’s “happy helpful husband” facade drops immediately at the thought of Chanyeol on the road alone, wrecking a car, and he wants to scream at him ‘your vision’s deteriorating, you can't drive!’ “Chanyeol,” Baekhyun grunts firmly, the warning tone in his voice rather obvious.

Chanyeol glances away. "I'll just walk there. But thanks." He places his hand on the doorknob and looks down to Baekhyun as if he’s forgotten something. He returns to his husband’s side and wraps his arms around him, kissing his temple. “I love you.”

Baekhyun barely glances up to him, bottom lip jutted out in a pout, but he manages to grumble out a soft and equally heartfelt “I love you too.”

Chanyeol gives him another kiss with an added “See you later, beautiful,” and the storm in the kitchen fades back into cloudy skies as he walks out the door with a smaller smile than the days before, but it’s definitely less forced than before.

Baekhyun gives a sigh, counts to ten, and follows him again anyway.

---------------

Baekhyun wakes to fingers wandering along his lips, tracing his jawline, outlining his ears. He wakes to rough hands making soft lines and trails along his skin, Chanyeol’s hands carefully working around his face.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers, his voice soft and steady as his fingers continue to roam, as if memorizing his face with his touch, his skin soft and smooth beneath the pads of his fingers as they glide across his face, curl around his ears, brush across his eyelashes, pinch his nose, drag at his lips.

Chanyeol's eyes are closed as he memorizes his features, from the curve of his eyebrows to the dip of his cupid’s bow. He runs his fingers along the line of his upper lip, pausing on the small mole above his lip. Chanyeol lets out a soft, delighted hum.

"You're just as beautiful as you were yesterday," he whispers as his hands shakily rest on his cheeks, fingers curling against his skin, his lips close to his as he can tell from the soft puffs of air on them, fingers lying closely to the corners of his lips that slowly begin to tug upward in an involuntary smile, and Chanyeol must have noticed the shift, because his body tenses, and his breathing pauses for a second.

"Chanyeol?" Baekhyun asks slowly, hot breath escaping the gap between his lips, and it fans over Chanyeol's hands that have stilled on his face before he pulls away from him like he had been burned.

"You were awake?" Chanyeol asks, his voice a soft whisper barely audible above the deep breath of air Baekhyun takes as he opens his eyes and smiles to his husband.

He yawns. “Just woke up.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol awkwardly clears his throat, turns over in his sheets, and sits up.

Baekhyun’s eyes focus on his husband’s broad back. “You don’t have to leave,” he says, reaching out to tug at Chanyeol’s shirt. “There’s still a lot of time left.”

Chanyeol glances over his shoulder and curls his arms around his husband, pushing him back against the bed and nuzzles his nose against his neck, drawing soft laughter from Baekhyun’s lips as his fingers quickly move down to his sides, and he leaves a trail of kisses along his jaw, pulling away to whisper in his ear, “I have to prepare for work.”

Baekhyun’s eyes open as his laughter slowly fades, and he gives Chanyeol a cute pout. “That’s not y.”

Chanyeol smiles as he stands and staggers away from the bed. “It’s not supposed to be,” he calls as he leaves through the door.

Baekhyun stares at the open door and slowly touches his face, his thin fingers tracing along the lines Chanyeol's hands have already drawn, the imprint like webs of electric sparks tingling underneath his skin. Baekhyun’s finger pauses on his lip, and he wonders how close their lips were, how much longer he would have needed to wait for him to kiss him. He drops his fingers from his face and rolls out of bed, following Chanyeol out of the room.

Baekhyun watches Chanyeol run through his morning routine, not letting him go before capturing his lips in a kiss. “Be safe,” he says, and Chanyeol nods, leaning down to peck his lips once more and add “You too, beautiful,” as he walks out the door.

Baekhyun watches raindrops stick to the window as the clock strikes 7. He’s getting antsy. Chanyeol’s usually home by now. He’s told himself to calm down and wait just ten more minutes at least four times, but it’s late and Chanyeol should have been home already, and before he knows it, he’s slipping into his jacket and his shoes and running out of the house, screaming his husband’s name.

“Chanyeol!” he calls, running into the evening, shadows dancing along the concrete and the walls of buildings he runs past. His throat burns, and he’s run miles in the rain, but he keeps running and shouting until he finds his husband safe, hunched over at the bus stop.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun shouts, running over to embrace him, his clothes sticking to Chanyeol’s skin, his wet hair dripping onto Chanyeol’s pants, and Chanyeol hesitantly hugs him back, arms reaching out to wrap around him, but Baekhyun is too relieved to notice the hesitation in Chanyeol’s movements or the way he coughs dryly against his shoulder. “What are you still doing out here? It's late and you should have been home by now.” He looks him up and down to make sure he isn’t hurt, and he can tell by the way his clothes are drying that he’s been here for a while.

Chanyeol points to the sky. “It’s raining.”

“I know it’s raining, why aren’t you inside,” Baekhyun stresses, and Chanyeol doesn’t answer, as though he's measuring the possible outcomes of each excuse he could make, or just skipping giving an answer and waiting for Baekhyun to explode.

Baekhyun's patience runs thin quickly, every drop of rain weighing down on his shoulders. “Okay, then, what are you doing just sitting in the same spot?”

“I was waiting,” he mumbles, not attempting to meet his eyes. “For the bus.”

“The bus doesn’t come for another 22 minutes, Yeol, were you planning on sitting here alone and freezing to death?” He notices Chanyeol wince, and he takes his hands into his. “You couldn’t have thought to even call me and tell me you were alright?”

When Chanyeol doesn’t answer, Baekhyun huffs, dropping the subject and hopefully any tension around them as he helps him stand. “Come on,” he sighs, slipping under Chanyeol’s arm and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Chanyeol blinks the rain out of his eyes. “No umbrella?”

“I was in a rush.” Baekhyun’s voice is cold and hard and it makes Chanyeol feel uncomfortable as he squirms in his grasp.

“I can walk on my own,” Chanyeol weakly protests after they take a few steps, but Baekhyun’s grip tightens around his waist.

“I’m not letting go of you.”

Chanyeol sighs, falling into step next to Baekhyun, who says nothing as they begin their trek home. Chanyeol glances down to him every once in a while, disturbed by his silence when usually the smaller man would be talking his ear off, complaining about one thing or the other. Chanyeol's voice is barely heard above the loud patter of rain on the cement. He only speaks up once.

"I can't tell... whether you're angry or just really worried."

Baekhyun spares a single glance up to his husband. "Both," he huffs as he drags Chanyeol along in the rain.

Minutes drag on like slugs struggling in the summer heat, and then they’re standing in the main hallway, rain dripping from their hair and blossoming in wet stains on the carpet as Chanyeol keeps his head low while Baekhyun closes and locks the door behind them.

“Just stay there; I’ll get you a towel.”

“I can do it myself, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says quickly following behind him, unsteady hands fumbling against the cabinets as he knocks over the laundry basket, and Baekhyun is at his side in a second, his hands on his hips to steady him. Chanyeol jumps away from him, sharply exclaiming, "I'm fine!"

“You’re not fine!” Baekhyun counters, “If you were fine, we wouldn’t be in this mess, and the laundry wouldn’t be all over the floor. Stop telling me you’re fine, Chanyeol.”

“It was just an accident,” Chanyeol quickly sputters out, stumbling forward as he reaches out to open another cabinet again. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m still okay.”

“You’re going blind, Chanyeol, goddamnit, will you stop being so stubborn and just let me help you with something?”

Chanyeol’s hands froze against the cabinets as silence consumed them, the air coming to a sudden stillness that settled heavily in his ears. Chanyeol’s lips parted and closed as if sentences were forming on his lips. The words ‘I’m not, where’d you get that idea?’ sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he swallowed the lies, unease settling in his stomach as his hands grasped at another cabinet’s handle.

"I don't need help."

"You keep saying that, but look at you! You're looking for towels in the China cabinet, and I swear if you break any single one of those plates..."

Chanyeol pauses and slowly reaches forward, his fingers touching the thin edge of a stack of the cold plates, and he draws away from as he closed the cabinet, still refusing to turn toward his husband’s direction.

"What is the matter with you?" Baekhyun asks, his voice softening as he approaches Chanyeol, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You'd rather lie to me and stumble around like this than let me help you?" He squeezes his shoulder.  “When else have I ever been so readily available, and now that I’m here, you don’t want me.”

“That’s not it,” Chanyeol says softly, and Baekhyun watches droplet of water curl down the side of his face and drip from his chin.

“What is it then?”

Chanyeol swallows thickly and takes off his glasses, opting not to answer as he rubs the lenses on his shirt to clear the drops of water that had gathered on them, but they just smudge because his shirt is wet too, and watching the process is irritating. Baekhyun snatches them from his hand. “Why do you wear these? These don’t help you.”

“I’m used to them, Baek,” Chanyeol protests weakly, blindly reaching forward to snatch them back. “They’re the only things that make me feel like…”

Baekhyun looks up to his husband, his grip tight on the thin, gold frames, as he anticipates Chanyeol’s answer. Like I’m not anything less than I was before. Perhaps he’d add 'like it's possible to reverse this,' or ‘like I’m still okay; like I’m not watching my life dissolve in front of me, but oh wait, I’m not because I can’t see a meter in front of my face.’

“Don’t look at me like that,” Chanyeol pleads, eyebrows drawn together helplessly.

Baekhyun blinks, the tension in his jaw slowly releasing. “Like what, Chanyeol.”

“Like I’m broken. I’m not broken.”

Baekhyun’s expression slowly changes. “I’m not.” His grip loosens on his glasses. “I know you’re not broken.” He sets his glasses down and takes Chanyeol’s hands into his. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t think you’re broken, but I want to help.”

“I didn’t say I needed help.”

“You also didn’t say you’ve been losing your vision for the past few weeks.”

Chanyeol’s face drops, and they stand there motionless for a few seconds, dripping onto the tile.

“When did it get obvious?”

“A long time ago.”

Chanyeol looks away and Baekhyun sighs, grabbing his hand. “If you’d just relax and let me take care of you, I’ll help you out, and we’ll get through this together, okay? Just trust me.”

“Baekhyun, please…”

Baekhyun’s hand tightens on Chanyeol’s wrist. “Why don’t you want my help?”

“I don’t want…” he paused. “I don’t want to be your patient, Baek. I don’t want you to act like you need to fix me.”

Baekhyun goes silent, wondering when he began mixing his roles of husband and doctor when Chanyeol really needs a friend. Chanyeol gives a weak laugh and looks away from him. “I don’t want you to think I’m not capable of protecting you anymore. Or of loving you anymore.”

“Then why don’t you? Love me – act like you mean it!” Baekhyun snaps. “Stop drifting away from me like this is more important than us.”

There’s the touch of a cold tear curling down the side of Baekhyun’s face. He almost expects Chanyeol to reach out and wipe it away with a soft sweep of his finger, but he presses his palm against it, sniffing to hold back more.

Chanyeol’s ears catch the noise immediately. “Are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

“Baekhyun, you’re crying–”

“I’m not crying!”

Chanyeol lets out an exasperated breath of air as he steps toward his husband and Baekhyun steps back. “Why can’t you admit something so simple?”

“Why won’t you let me help you then?” Baekhyun’s voice cracks. “You’re allowed to need me just as much as I need you, and I need you, Yeol!" He swipes at his eyes, and his voice shakes as he continues. "You’re drifting away and I… I need you too. You only pay any attention to me when I’m asleep,” he adds with a miserable laugh.

“I don't need you to be anything you’re not,” Baekhyun continues, “I just want you to be happy again. I want my Chanyeol back. Chanyeol that tickles me in the mornings and laughs all the time, and Chanyeol that doesn't know when to stop smiling, and Chanyeol that makes me feel safe and at home. I just wanted to make you smile again. You're my husband, Yeol, and god dammit, if we can’t work this out, then–”

He tastes cotton. He smells rain. He feels Chanyeol’s large hand on the back of his head, and his other arm wrapped around his back.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun mumbles softly against his wet shirt and Chanyeol’s hand slowly draws down his head to caress his nape.

"I'm sorry," Chanyeol finally mumbles against his head. "I'm sorry."

Baekhyun shakes his head, trying to push him away. "It's not your fault that this is happening."

"I'm sorry for worrying you," Chanyeol says, drawing Baekhyun back into his hug. "I figured that if I could learn how to do everything on my own, you wouldn't be so worried about me. I don't want you to take care of me, Baekhyun."

"I don't want... to feel useless either," Baekhyun says, looking up to his husband, his fingers curling in his shirt. "I want to know that you can trust me with things like this! It's serious, and–"

"I can trust you, but you tend to worry too much about things, Baekhyun!" He squints down to him. “You tend to go a little overboard.” Baekhyun stiffens as Chanyeol continues, resting his head against Baekhyun’s damp hair. “And you look at me like I’m weak and incapable sometimes, and to be honest, it hurts too.” Chanyeol takes a deep breath. “I don’t want you to suffer with me.”

“I don’t want you to suffer alone.”

Chanyeol lets out a miserable laugh, and Baekhyun looks up to him because neither of them know what to say, so they stay quiet and stand there.

"I want you to trust me," Chanyeol sighs, and it sounds like he’s on the verge of breaking.

"How am I supposed to trust you when you're lying to me about something this important?"

“You don’t understand,” Chanyeol cries softly, his fingers curling in the back of Baekhyun’s shirt. “You’re not in this position. You’re not the one that can’t wake up to your husband’s beautiful face in the morning, and you’re not the one who might lose his job because he can’t do it properly anymore. The child we were planning to adopt – I can’t watch her grow up, I can’t see her face anymore, and Baekhyun, it’s so hard, and I’m trying so hard, and I’m just watching everything I love slipping out of my grasp–”

“I’m still here,” Baekhyun says. Chanyeol takes in another deep breath, and his body shudders against Baekhyun’s. “I’m staying here. I’ll always be here.”

Chanyeol’s arms curl around his body, his head resting on his shoulder. “I’m trying to keep you out of all of this, Baekhyun–”

“But we’re married, Chanyeol. Your problems are my problems; your pain is mine too. We’re one heart, one soul, one lifetime, and we’re supposed to be going through all of this together. How could you even try to leave me out of such a critical thing?”

Chanyeol’s grip loosens on the smaller man and he looks down to him, holding Baekhyun’s face in his hands as he tries to get his vision to focus on him and show him his face in a clear view one time, just one time, but he gives a defeated sigh and pulls his husband back into his arms.

He takes in a soft gasp of air.

“I was supposed to be your rock. Your protection. Your knight in shining armor.”

There's something about Chanyeol's soft voice that makes Baekhyun melt. Anger turning to sympathy and compassion. Obstinacy turning to understanding.

“I was supposed to be your everything and more.”

Baekhyun lets a small span of silence form between them as Chanyeol grasps for more, but it feels like he has the entire dictionary on the tip of his tongue and an even heavier burden on his shoulders weighing him down. Baekhyun softly rests his hand on Chanyeol’s back.

“You already are, though,” he says. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me, Yeol.”

Chanyeol speaks weakly, his voice muffled by Baekhyun’s shirt. “How can I be when I’m like this?”

“Chanyeol, you don’t have to be perfect for me.” Baekhyun lets out a soft laugh. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I loved you when you were an immature nut back in high school, and I love you now, when you’re being my ball of sunshine, and I’ll love you later, when you’ll be holding on to my arm, and we’ll guide each other through life together.” He pauses. “None of us are perfect, and I don’t expect you to fake it for me.”

When Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, Baekhyun turns his head to press a kiss to his neck. “We may not be perfect, but you’re perfect for me.”

Baekhyun feels the tension fade from Chanyeol’s arms and his shoulders, his fingers slowly slipping from his shirt, his burden easing.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol says, and he can feel the shadows that had been crawling up their necks and choking them and squeezing the life out of their relationship escaping with Chanyeol’s words, and he takes a deep breath of the clean, fresh air, the endless storm surrounding them slowly beginning to fade away, drawing back from them and taking away pain and hurt, and Chanyeol’s arms tighten around his husband, letting out his gratitude in a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

Baekhyun smiles and squeezes his husband. “Look at me,” Baekhyun says brightly, trying to turn Chanyeol’s face toward him when Chanyeol lifts his head from his shoulder, tear streaks smudged across his face. “I want to see you smile.”

Baekhyun lifts his hands from Chanyeol’s back and slowly traces a finger along his bottom lip before placing his fingers at the corners to tug Chanyeol’s lips up into a smile that makes Baekhyun laugh, and Chanyeol chokes out a laugh with him until they’re both incoherent, unable to speak as laughter bubbles up within them and catches their tongues, and there’s nothing particularly funny anymore, but there’s so much happiness overdue that it’s all flowing out of them like an endless river. Baekhyun has always thought Chanyeol was the most beautiful when he’s smiling, and that smile remains after Baekhyun draws his hands away from his lips and rests his head against his husband’s chest.

“I missed your smile,” he says, letting his eyes close. “Don’t let it leave again.”

“I won’t,” Chanyeol whispers and kisses the top of Baekhyun’s head. “For you, I won’t.”

---------------

Chanyeol wanders along the wall, searching for the guitar that he had just put down a minute ago. Baekhyun watches him struggle for a few seconds, amused by the way Chanyeol mutters under his breath as he looks for it until his hands barely out of reach of the instrument, and Baekhyun gives the guitar a little push, watching his husband’s face brighten as his fingers brush across it, and he lifts it from the stand. “I found it! See, Baek, I told you I could find it on my own.”

Baekhyun gives him a smile as Chanyeol sits back in his chair, strumming one string at a time. “Yes, dear, of course you did.”

Chanyeol slowly begins to play, his fingers warming up to the instrument as Baekhyun sits back to listen, hands tangled in their daughter’s hair, braiding the long, dark hair down the length of her back as she sings along to the songs Chanyeol plays.

Hyeri has been a part of the family for almost two years now, and the couple could not have been happier to introduce the new little ball of sunshine into their home. She fits in easily like she’s their own child, bringing smiles to her fathers’ faces with her own smiles and laughter between the everyday normality and routines as they eat dinner together and she tells them about her day in school, or when she curls into either of their laps and falls asleep.

By the time Baekhyun finishes and pats her back, she is already running on her stubby legs over toward Chanyeol, and she laughs when she crashes into his legs and wraps her arms around them.

Chanyeol sets his guitar aside and picks up the child to set her on his knee.

“How’s my pretty little girl?” he asks, and she responds with a light “Happy!”

Baekhyun smiles as Chanyeol grabs her hands and rubs small circles into her palm in the midst of their laughter. Chanyeol’s vision is completely gone by now, and though he’s still stubborn about some things, Baekhyun is just as stubborn with others, but they’ve adjusted, and so has Hyeri.

Chanyeol’s hands wander along her face, her skin soft and squishy under the pads on his fingers as they trail across her cheeks and pinch her nose, her bright eyes shining as a giggle escapes her lips and Chanyeol gives a soft tug on her ears, and she tugs back on Chanyeol’s. That bright, wide-lipped smile that Baekhyun fell in love with crosses Chanyeol’s lips, and Hyeri giggles again as Chanyeol’s hands cup her face, and Baekhyun watches the way she leans into Chanyeol’s palm like she always does, comforted by the touch of her father’s fingers on her face.

“Yes,” Chanyeol says, his voice soft and bright as his finger dips into her dimple, “just as beautiful as my Baekhyunnie.”

Baekhyun feels himself blush, cheeks hot as he slaps at Chanyeol’s arm, who cringes with laughter, and Hyeri wraps her arms around Chanyeol as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Do you wanna bake a cake, daddy?” Hyeri asks, wiggling in Chanyeol’s hands with a bright smile on her face that could probably rival Chanyeol’s.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Baekhyun says as he lifts her from Chanyeol’s lap to set her down, “but this is the 3rd cake we’ve made in two weeks.”

“She’s a baker, my little one,” Chanyeol says proudly, patting her head. “Looks like she takes after me in the kitchen department.” Baekhyun doesn’t even attempt to deny it.

“Can I the spoon?” she asks, her voice bright and shaking with excitement.

“If you’re a good girl,” Chanyeol responds, patting her head. “What type of cake should we make?”

“Chocolate!” She squeals and runs off toward the kitchen, and Baekhyun shouts for her to slow down as Chanyeol approaches him.

“She’s grown a lot,” Chanyeol sighs.

“It’s too fast, don’t you think?” Baekhyun asks, nostalgic as he wraps an arm around Chanyeol’s side, and Chanyeol presses a kiss to his temple.

"It's a beautiful part of youth," Chanyeol adds before he turns to his husband and hugs him tightly. “Same for you. You get more beautiful each day, love.” Baekhyun goes hot again, and Chanyeol presses a slow kiss to his lips. “And I’ll never tire of telling you either.”

Baekhyun stutters as Chanyeol slips away from his husband and laughs, quickly following their daughter out of the room, and Baekhyun is left behind, calling his name as he chases after him.

********