summary: based on recent baekyeol interactions. or severe lack thereof.
“hey, you there?”
baekhyun continues staring out of the window. there are no stars tonight. just shadows smothering the clouds and choking the moon. he almost prefers this view to the usual seoul cityscape of fake diamonds and artificial light. almost prefers this quiet as compared to the usual twangs of untuned guitars and a voice husky with weariness and misplaced affection.
“i’m sorry, okay? jesus. get over it already.”
the neighbor is walking his dogs tonight. he looks so lonely against the illuminated light of streetlamps, for a second, it seems like all the warmth in the world can't blanket him in it's sunshine-laced comfort. maybe baekhyun can sneak out for a minute or two, maybe more, he’s sure chanyeol can --
the train of thought stops.
“if you’re done brooding maybe you can let me in? it’s fucking cold out here.”
two beats of silence.
"all right fuck that. okay fuck you this is my room too."
the door opens. baekhyun does not get up from his spot behind the curtains. there is no need to, because another two beats of silence seconds later the edge of the curtain is lifted and the warmth of another body presses against him. it's heavy, this body, weighing down on top of the burdens delicately placed on the edges of his shoulder. everything is off-balance now. everything crashes down again.
they smoke the glass of the windows with their heavy exhales.
his reply sounds small. weak. but it is a start.
“listen, baek. i’m sorry. about the whole freakout. and. whatever came after.”
a lot of things came after. hissing voices and knuckles dusting the angle of cheekbones in the lightest shade of purple and pain. his hand still smarted from the blow, especially when they had to hold microphones during the radio broadcast. it is a nice kind of pain though, in some ways, it is a comfort whenever baekhyun sees the bruise and how it matches with the one beneath chanyeol’s eye. (you are my hurt, it seems to say.)
“if you’re still mad that i didn’t...respond to..you...and the kiss, well, you do have to understand that it’s just weird on all levels right? you. us. best friends? guys?”
the neighbor is back, his dogs scampering about his feet. he still looks as alone as ever.
“so..i hope we’re cool. because sehun’s bed is pretty lumpy.”
it is nearing 3 in the morning now. for baekhyun, the witching hour began a long time ago. there is a sudden weariness settling in his bones and it takes all he can for him to speak. the skin over his shivering bones are still aching but he's so tired and he wants to hide beneath the blankets that the night offered. coming out doesn't seem like a likely option anymore.
“yeah. we’re okay.”
chanyeol chuckles, raising a hand to grasp baekhyun’s neck but lowering it after a second thought. this is how it ends -- with a split-second hesitation and uncomfortable silence filling the spaces in between.
“well, i’m going to bed soon. you should too. um. goodnight.”
baekhyun looks out again. the neighbor is long gone, the only proof of his existence reduced to nothing but footsteps on the gravel and a pile of dog shit. chanyeol is back in his bed listening to the same songs repeating the same things same thoughts same everything and baekhyun cannot find it in him to crave for differences anymore. he stands and draws the curtains close.
the city does not need a sky.
pairing: baekhyun/kyungsoo | baekhyun/chanyeol
summary: the military isn't as efficient as it seems. for one, it doesn't deal with heartbreak.
it’s a great day for smoking, baekhyun muses. his fingers slowly roll the barrel of his zippo, holding it up to where the cigarette is placed between his lips.
he settles back onto his bed and watches a re-run of family outing. he grins at the slapstick and he’d like to believe that the ghosts trapped between the walls are laughing along too.
the guy next door is singing in the shower again. he sings words that sound pretty but mean nothing.
baekhyun quite likes him.
there is smoke wafting outside the window of his house but kyungsoo makes nothing of it. he continues humming along to the blaring stereo, oblivious to the frail silhouette of a boy climbing over his fence.
a midnight knock on the door. kyungsoo lets him in after he hears his name being called out, the soft vowels sharpened by the ache in the boy's voice. kyungsoo likes feeling needed, and baekyun needed him like a broken person seeking out a doctor.
kyungsoo doesn't stitch him back out though. both knew it would never work out. the thread and the needle can't dance along the scars because the patient wouldn't let the doctor enter his ward, always kept him a curtain away.
later on, after three beers and two packs of Camels and one possibly bad decision, they talk. baekhyun whispers bits and pieces about the army, how it never really broke him while he was there, but chased after him like a shadow he didn't want when he left. how it sent chanyeol away to the forests of vietnam and how it refused to return him back.
“i guess,” baekhyun rasps, “being in the military isn't all they said it would be, huh? most of the time all you're saying is yes, sir, no, sir, and rolling in the mud and sometimes you write letters home hoping people still remember you."
“i replied, though, didn't i? i even sent you a card during your birthday,” kyungsoo replies softly, thumbing along curve of baekhyun’s ribs. he feels them shake beneath his touch.
“times like this, it feels like the world is trying to wake me up.”
baekhyun doesn’t stay over that night, much like the other nights before. he always climbs back up the fence, and walks back to his home, with nothing but haunting whispers serving as a momentary comfort. be strong, soldier.
kyungsoo sighs and the stars twinkle sadly down at him.
pairing: sehun-centric (ft. jongin if you want)
summary: the end ends.
white noise blankets the room. sehun’s thoughts filter through his brain, bleed through the walls of the universe in his mind and surrounds him, pulsing with an electric energy that terrifies him. and yet--