(A/n: Serious, guys. Elastic Heart << by Sia. Kyungsoo' song.)
Chanyeol had a colorful collection of old records in boxes beneath his bed and CD stacks in the corner of his basement bedroom. Only by a look on his blushing face could Baekhyun tell that the latter had been nervous about showing his new boyfriend his basement living space. Slowly, with every step, Baekhyun inspected several aspects of the room from corner to corner, taking mental note of the guitars and set of drums sitting perfectly pristine off to the side. His fingers trailed the wall beside him until he gradually moved and gravitated to the jock’s musical interests.
“I cleaned up a bit, but sorry for the, uh, hamper over there,” Chanyeol apologized meekly as he worked on turning on all the lights in his room. “Should’ve done laundry a while back…”
“It’s alright.” With a hand drifting just above the CDs stacked beside Chanyeol’s desk, Baekhyun cocked his head. “You listen to some old things, Chanyeol.”
“You don’t like classic rock?” Chanyeol asked, swinging his duffle bag’s sling over his head and setting his athletic gear off to the side, near the stairs. His hair was still stuck to his forehead, evidence of the practice he just finished. Slightly paranoid of his hygiene, he quickly walked over to a closet and pulled out a towel.
“No, I do,” the brunet quickly answered, pulling out a CD case from the masses. “I’m just surprised. Thought you’d be into pop or something mainstream, not…Aerosmith.”
“If you don’t like Aerosmith, you’re doing something wrong.” Chuckling, Chabyeol threw the towel over his shoulder. “I’m going to take a quick shower, okay? You can touch anything in this room if you want.”
Face red, the giant let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, I’m not prepared with anything, but if, uh, you say that then, well, ah—”
“Joking, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun casually assured, putting the CD back in its place. “Go take your shower. You smell like basketball and school. Two things I’m not very fond of.”
“Oh…Right. I’ll see you in a bit. The television remote’s on my bed, and there’s a mini fridge by my desk. I have all kinds of drinks, except alcoholic ones. I’m not trying to do anything or, um—”
“Chanyeol, you’re rambling.”
“I know. I hear it, too. I’ll go now.”
After the giant left, grumbling under his breath about his embarrassment to himself, Baekhyun crouched down and pulled out a box full of records. Filing through it all, he was amused by Chanyeol’s taste in music seeing as how the latter even had classical music in his collection.
It had been a week since they began officially dating, though Baekhyun was still repelled to use the word. The news hadn’t broken out yet, but only by the result of his strict rules when it came to conduct during school hours.
There was to be absolutely no hand holding. Baekhyun saw the way Chanyeol’s smile faltered at the revelation, but assured him that it wouldn’t be as heavily strict as he made it sound. “Not that I don’t want to. I’d just rather have it so that others don’t make such a fuss about it,” he had explained.
Still, Chanyeol had slumped shoulders, frown lopsidedly taking place on his face. “Okay, so no PDA…”
“Just not excessive displays, Chanyeol. I don’t want to be like those people who sit in a corner during breaks to shove tongues down each other’s throat.”
“But the likelihood of you letting me kiss you when I want is…”
“Not so great.”
“Hm…” Chanyeol had accepted it so casually, but stiffly enough that Baekhyun had no other choice but to slightly budge on his tone of voice.
“Before school and after school, however, then it’s whatever... We can do what you want.”
“Not anything from the Forbidden Tree, Chanyeol, but everything else in the Garden of Eden’s yours during those hours.”
Content, Chanyeol had smiled at him before kissing him on the cheek and apologetically excusing himself to go to work.
There was something about Chanyeol that put him at ease despite the terrified feeling that bubbled its way into his mind during the dark hours of the night. Those fears never resided for far too long; its darkness extinguished by the light of his phone with a message from the giant himself bidding the latter good-night.
From where he stood, his ears could hear the jolly singing emanating from Chanyeol’s bathroom, and Baekhyun snickered while quietly to himself as he turned his head to stare at the guitar collection (some even hung on the wall) that the giant had established for himself. For their many differences, music, in general, was common ground, a place of no war. Slowly, he approached the collection until his fingers gently strummed the strings of a light acoustic.
His imagination began to run wild, and Baekhyun forced himself to stay away from the unknown. Curiosity gripped him as he couldn’t help, but wonder how the latter seemed when musical instruments made their way to his hands. It was proven like a well-known theory that Chanyeol found no difficulty in sports, particularly basketball, but music was another field, and it held Baekhyun’s interest at heart.
Jerking around as he realized the humming had ended, Baekhyun watched as the basketball player emerged from his steamy shower, towel around his lower waist and arms wrapped around himself. The expression on the brunet’s face held no emotion, but he found it difficult to maintain the look while Chanyeol was grinning nervously at him, shaking.
“I see you’re done,” Baekhyun said evenly as he moved away from the instruments. “Need me to get you anything?”
“A shirt from my closet. Please,” Chanyeol said as he shivered, hastily going to his drawer. “I usually change in the bathroom, but the part about getting clothes slipped my mind, I guess. Honest, I’m not doing this to impress you or anything. I’m just--”
“What kind of shirt do you want?”
In the midst of pulling a boxer-brief from a drawer, Chanyeol turned his head to the sight of Baekhyun looking around his closet. “Hm?”
“Plain or something with a logo on it…”
“Plain’s fine…” Biting his bottom lip, he closed the drawer and walked toward the brunet as he stepped out of the closet, closing the door behind him. “Thanks.”
Nodding, Baekhyun handed him the black shirt. “Hurry and change. I’ll go upstairs for a moment and give you some privacy.”
Shaking his head, Chanyeol grabbed the brunet by the wrist and kept him from walking. “It won't bother me if you stay in the room."
Raising his brows, Baekhyun cocked his head. "And why is that? Planning on giving me a show?"
"I promise no wedding night views, I swear. Nothing r-rated." Grinning, Chanyeol pulled him in with a kiss on the forehead. "Just turn your back, okay? I'll hurry up."
There was heat rising to Baekhyun's face, but he ignored the sensation as Chanyeol lowered his lips' target, aiming for the other's mouth. "You've noticed that you kiss more often now, right?"
"Can't help it. I like it too much."
Chanyeol's scent hadn't gone unnoticed the second Baekhyun caught air of it. The citrus smell was pleasant, but no amount of time was allocated for an opportunity to compliment the feature as his mouth became occupied by the basketball player's tongue.
Sliding his hand behind Chanyeol's neck, Baekhyun pulled him in, deepening the kiss as the latter maneuvered them just against the bed. In seconds, the brunet could feel the edge of the mattress against the back of his knees. Freely, Chanyeol's hands wandered from his boyfriend's back to his waist, never going farther.
With lungs burning at a rate much faster than they could be relieved, Baekhyun pulled away, earning a displeased grunt on Chanyeol's part. "Get dressed, Chanyeol, before an accidental wedding night happens."
"Well, there's a church five minutes from here," the player teased before reluctantly letting the brunet free, boxer shorts and shirt in hand. "You can pull out my homework from my bag while I get dressed."
Without saying yet another word, Baekhyun left his side, ears perked and the sound of the towel dropping behind him begged him to turn, but he refused. "So, your grades need to come out of the red zone, which is a seventy mark at this moment, right? What’s going on in physics right now? Light waves?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol answered, working quickly to drag the briefs on. “Motion and light.”
“Alright, so easy stuff then.” Taking the giant’s folders and physics book, Baekhyun turned around just as the player was fixing the boxer bands around his waist. “I’ll let you put on your shirt before we get started. Basketball shorts, too, if you will.”
Meeting Chanyeol’s eyes in that situation as a new experience for the brunet, who cleared his throat and nodded to the pieces of clothing. “Come on, Chanyeol. I don’t have all night with you.”
“Only in my dreams,” Chanyeol said, smiling at him.
“For right now.”
Ignoring the fact that the doctor heavily advised rest and inactivity, Kyungsoo put away with his crutches and aircast, dealing with the leftover pain that hadn’t yet faded away. When walking, he took extra precaution with foot work. Ideally, he walked without twisting his foot in odd directions too much of a strain to handle, but there were times Kyungsoo had to bite the inside of his cheeks to overcome the stabbing sensation.
It had been a week since the accident and a week since he last spoke with Baekhyun. Perhaps, in the deepest meaning known to him, it was harder to deal with loss of a relationship than the loss of his ability to walk properly at the moment.
From his occasional two, Kyungsoo made the change to five cigarettes a day from the twenty-five in his usual pack. Reaching out for him was what Bakehyun had attempted multiple times in the past days, but the president did what he had mastered over the years against those who dared to rip him open only to take advantage of everything he ever gave to them; he shut him out.
At a loss, he carried on with his duties as assigned, executing with precision and sharpness, never missing a single systematic beat. But his facade, it was beginning to fall. The smiles he gave felt heavier and heavier as the days dragged on with no love given, and Kyungsoo’s own motivations began to snap and diminish.
One morning, he perched himself on a second story balcony faced towards the front gate entrance of the school and leaned against the railing as he watched the population below him dwindle in for their classes. The cigarette in his hand was extinguished, crushed when it fell at his feet. Kyungsoo’s eyes peered down in two senses. For one, he felt like a god, watching and judging those beneath his balcony, his tower, his perch. But for another, he felt like he was the outcast, not the other. As though he was the one below them all, and that detail shoved at his conscience.
It was as though his depression had claws, scratching and dragging its filthy nails against his head, almost driving him mad to insanity. He felt like a god and saw himself as a god, almost inhuman and untouched by the world around him, but in the back of his mind, he felt couldn’t tear away from the feeling that he was not inhuman because he was above others, but rather because he was lacking…
In that split moment in time, suicide flashed through his mind as his eyes dropped down to take a gander at the height below him, but then he saw them in the distance. Baekhyun had let Chanyeol’s hand go the minute they neared the northern gate and Chanyeol gave him a quick, fleeting kiss on the lips before walking ahead the brunet. Kyungsoo almost dropped to his knees, crying in bitter laughter because Baekhyun never pulled away or rejected the romantic gestures; he only accepted it.
Kyungsoo decided then and there that he wouldn’t end himself by falling off a building on the grounds of an establishment he despised with pure hatred. What good would it do for him to die like a bird falling from the sky? Like Hades or Lucifer? Nothing. Taking out another stick, he lit it up and settled on numbing himself for the time being.
“Mr. Do, there has yet to be any progress with the soccer team’s usage of the field after hours and without advisor supervision.”
“I understand. I’m still attempting to--”
“The school board would like the issue resolved soon. If you cannot handle it, then you must inform us so we may take measures into our own hands. Some things are out of your power to handle, and if that’s the case here then--”
“I’ll handle it just fine. Thank you for your concern.”
“I’ll have it resolved by next monday. The legal agreement will be on your desk by eight in the morning.”
His knuckles were white with his hands gripping constrictively tight on the manila folder in his hand. Kyungsoo’s adrenaline marked the pain out of his foot as he marched his way across the green field. A ball approached him by an awful mistake and Kyungsoo did nothing by kick it aside despite a player being in close proximity in chase of it.
When his dark eyes met with the captain’s, he could feel his patience run severely thin by the mere look of him, and Kyungsoo wanted everything around him to burn. From the bullshit he received from his supervisors and down to the last dwindling student with the vulgarity to cross him, he didn’t care. To hell with them all, and to hell with their expectations and deadlines. Insignificant, worthless, and inferior excuses of individuals in the world with the patience of a rabid dog and a bitch in--
“What the hell do you think you’re doing walking on my field, Kyungsoo.”
The hostility in Jongin’s voice cracked the president’s composure and sanity. “I’m merely taking care of business you’ve refused to face for the last few months, you filthy soccer scrap. Take the folder and sign on the dotted lines. If you need a magnifying glass, call the damn office, ask your grandmother for her thick rims. I, frankly, won’t bat an eye at what you decide to do to get the job done, but make my life easier and sign it. Sign it all and send it to the student government room by Monday.”
The way his eyes blanked with emotion gave Jongin the message Kyungsoo was on the brink of something, and the captain had no desire to venture the latter’s limits. He took the folder, but would not detach his eyes from Kyungsoo’s piercing stare.
“Your aircast is supposed to be on, regardless of whether or not you decide to keep company with your crutches.”
“You’re a soccer player, not a doctor. Get the hell out of my business, Jongin, and sign those papers.”
He turned to leave, but he felt compelled to stop at the sound of Jongin’s harsh voice. “You know, I’m not supposed to care about you or your business, whatever the hell that might be.”
“You’re wasting my time by stating the obvious.”
Reaching out, Jongin took hold of him by his forearm, forcing Kyungsoo to jerk his head back to meet with the captain’s face. “Don’t do anything stupid to yourself,” he warned. “That includes going around without your things.”
“How very fucking kind of you.”
“I mean what I say, Kyungsoo.”
“And I mean what I say when I say this,” Kyungsoo snapped, ripping his arm away from Jongin’s touch as though it was a matter of life or death. “You mean nothing to me. You and your opinion are insignificant, and they’re worthless...So, spare me the speech spewed out of your mouth and keep that vomit to yourself.”
“You never listen, do you?”
“Because there’s no point in listening to anyone but myself.”