exo: hurricanes brought us here

[rustle]

Hurricanes brought us here
— Baekhyun/Kyungsoo. PG-13. 12390 words.
— Kyungsoo stays at the dorms, hoping to fill the gap eleven other people have left with songs. Baekhyun takes on the challenge and comes back (for good). (Post-disbandment fic)
— Huge, huge thanks to Chels spiel for everything — the beta and the cheerleading and the hand-holding. I wouldn't have been able to get through this without you. ♥ The title was taken from Alex Vargas' Wasteland.

One thing Kyungsoo has learned about himself possibly way too late into the game is the reality that he's not amenable to change. It took him a while to adjust to idol life despite undergoing training to be this perfect manifestation of human desires for years, took him a while to get used to the new timbre of his voice. He'd been slated to debut much earlier, but his voice kept cracking at inopportune times — the weekly idol showcase, end-of-the-month performances, the day he was called to the board room along with eleven other people and asked, Why do you deserve to debut? "Because I want to sing for the whole world," was his best answer that time. In hindsight, it was probably too cheesy for his image. So when he's faced with the challenge of familiarizing himself with an old acquaintance after years of little to no contact, he slips into a casual uh as a greeting. The SM building is a familiar face, has been for the past decade or more, but there's a sense of uneasiness enveloping Kyungsoo. Baekhyun looks over his shoulder and beams at him, teeth bright and too white. He's wearing one of those fake glasses again. His hair is dyed a sick mix of silver and gold, and Kyungsoo briefly contemplates on reaching out to ruffle the tuft. "Hey," Baekhyun replies, body now facing Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo presses his lips together in a thin, thin line. His eyes flit from Baekhyun's face to the huge luggage beside Baekhyun, to the documents Baekhyun's holding in one hand and then back to Baekhyun's ugly glasses. He's already had coffee and it hasn't even been three hours since he's started working on his new album, but already he thinks he's seeing things, feeling things. Baekhyun pushes the frame back with an index finger, and that's when Kyungsoo gulps hard. "Second album drops next week, huh?" Baekhyun says. You should drop a block of cement on my face, huh? is what Kyungsoo hears, instead. He can make out the text on one of the documents Baekhyun is holding — the words offer and contract are the ones that stand out. "Yeah, the second album," Kyungsoo mumbles. He wiggles his fingers. "Are you here to, uh—" In the beginning, it had been more difficult to accept that EXO would eventually come to an end. Younger, more refreshing groups would inevitably rise and take center stage, shoving them to the side in all their wrinkly glory. "We had our time," Joonmyun would always say, fingers tapping lightly on the glass of the trophy cabinet. Kyungsoo eyed the 2013 row with my interest, a tinge of wistfulness, nostalgia wrapping around him like a friend. Kyungsoo almost regretted that entire year, when Wolf dropped and they were all made to do this weird, unattractive cannibalistic dance that only Jongin and Sehun seemed to appreciate. Growl was their saving grace — it reminded Kyungsoo why SM was SM and why SM artists had been winning awards left and right. Joonmyun's smile reflected on the surface. Chanyeol's grin was distorted on the trophies, making him look like some creature from Dragon Quest. Beside him, Baekhyun was still, quiet, a small smile on the corner of his lips. Baekhyun's eyes were on him, had been on him since the start of Joonmyun's trip down memory lane. He only ever risked a glance at Baekhyun for fear of drowning, or burning. Baekhyun was a risk in himself. The breakup was inevitable. Eight years down the line and Joonmyun's moves had been more restricted than ever. Yixing's waist injury still plagued him and everyone around him. Jongin's back problem had worsened, and Minseok was slated to enter the military. It had seemed only fitting then to call the whole arrangement off, while they were still slightly more popular than other groups but not as fresh. "We're overripe fruits," Kyungsoo remembered Sehun mentioning one time, and Zitao just laughed. Until now, Kyungsoo still wondered if Zitao understood that as Sehun waving the white flag and saying, yeah, it's probably the right time to disband. Kris and Chanyeol were given modelling stints, and Zitao, Sehun and Jongin stayed to train the group scheduled to debut in May. Yixing had taken acting jobs for afternoon TV soaps (the music of which had been composed by Yixing, himself), and Lu Han discovered a love for creating screenplays. He wrote the first play Joonmyun was ever part of, and Jongdae played Joonmyun's part in the movie adaptation. "We can finally push through with that solo album you've been putting off," someone from the management said, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo's own. "I mean, it's about time." Kyungsoo nodded in blind agreement and signed a five-year contract with SM. Baekhyun was given a similar offer, but had pleaded to take a much-needed break before getting back into the business of creating music. "Or I can compose songs while I'm sipping English tea in the U.K. and—" "All or nothing," Kyungsoo commented. What he meant to say was, take a break and come back refreshed. Then we can sing together. He rested a hand on Baekhyun's thigh. Baekhyun was shaking a little. "You have to choose." "I choose you," Baekhyun chimed, a grin tearing the corners of his mouth. Then, to the management, "I'd be honored to take the offer, but I think I need a break right now." "You know who to call if you change your mind," says one of the higher ups. "It would be a shame to let go of a talent like yours." Fast forward three years and Kyungsoo's already over thirty — they both are, but Baekhyun's child-like features can be deceiving — and Kyungsoo wonders if there would be a third album, a fourth, or if Baekhyun's first solo album will be released at all. "I'm here to stay," Baekhyun finishes for him. "And maybe do some singing projects. But for now, I'll be working my magic in the sidelines." Baekhyun wiggles his fingers and there's the enthusiasm of a twenty-year-old shining in his eyes, like the three-year break has made him age backwards or has turned back time, but who would want to turn back time, really, when all there is to look back on are eight long years of dancing around each other and unspoken agreements to not spill secrets, not tell lies? Kyungsoo shakes his head and blinks a few times, and the magic's gone, and he's reminded of the present, Baekhyun-the-twenty-year-old and everything they shouldn't be conveniently shoved under the carpet. "I look forward to working with you, then," Kyungsoo says automatically, extending a hand to Baekhyun. Baekhyun takes it, shakes his hand lightly. Baekhyun's touch lingers. "It will be a pleasure." + When EXO disbanded three years ago, Baekhyun had only ever properly said goodbye to Joonmyun more out of habit that out of courtesy. "It'll be exciting," Joonmyun replied, beads of tears at the corners of his eyes, and Chanyeol pretended to puke in disgust. Jongin kept his lips pressed together thinly, but everybody knew he was on the verge of tears. Jongin had always been good with keeping his tears at bay, but never at completely concealing his emotions. "You're an open book. An open and transparent book," Sehun mentioned one time, to which Jongin just furrowed his eyebrows and replied, "The text would be unreadable, then." It wasn't much of a farewell, though. Baekhyun flashed a ticket to Greece and Joonmyun gasped and Kyungsoo had to squint hard before he could to make out the fine print. It was a one-way ticket, and Baekhyun had dropped somewhere between Joonmyun's squeals of delight and Chanyeol's raucous noise that he was going to look for his muse and reunite with her, rest and recharge before doing some dirty work again, find himself, all that shit. "Please don't post obnoxious selcas on Instagram," was Kyungsoo's farewell message. Baekhyun flashed a v-sign and blew a kiss in his direction. (He'd caught it with invisible hands.) Baekhyun kept his promise, but Joonmyun took over selca-duty, posting pictures of himself sticking out his tongue, sceneries from different countries as the background — cows in a farm, Toyko Tower, some old building who knows where, against the white sandy beach of a tropical country. Zitao reprimanded him the first few times until Joonmyun grew tired of coming up with a caption and got too lazy to actually post them on Instagram. He sent them on their KKT group chat, instead. Baekhyun replied occasionally, messages spread out evenly across weeks. He always had good things to say, like how Joonmyun looked unbelievably handsome despite the really bad lighting, or how Kris rocked the (atrocious) leopard print pants for Lu Han's summer collection (being a playwright was just a phase, he belatedly discovered). Often, Kyungsoo wondered how Baekhyun kept track of everything and everyone all the time. Heck, even he didn't know Jongin was directing a ballet musical, and he was the one stuck in Korea making music. herd ur working on ur 1st single. better b gud, Baekhyun texted one time, out of the blue. Kyungsoo was in the middle of writing something and he'd unwillingly put his phone face down despite the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He turned it over not too long after; the battle had been lost. i'll blow you away, Kyungsoo replied not more than a minute after. He willed the smile away and slipped back into a look of nonchalance. He'd taken note that Baekhyun read the message but never replied, though, and was actually planning to send something in response but never pushed through with it. The months leading to the release of the debut single were nothing short of a thrilling experience, but they were draining just the same. The setting was familiar, like falling back into old habit; all that was foreign to Kyungsoo was not having anyone to wait for him outside the recording booth, no one to flash two thumbs up or to give him a toothy grin, then some input once he's already caught his breath and his vocal chords have recovered from the recording session. Once, he'd imagined Joonmyun grinning at him brightly through the glass, Chanyeol enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug in exchange for peace and quiet in the van. Baekhyun very carefully slipping beside him, staring at him for the longest time before saying, almost tentatively, "You need to practice your breathing. You tend to go sharp towards the end because you're out of breath." Kyungsoo looked to his side. There was nothing save for a notebook and his phone, notifications screaming at him in blinking lights. Maybe Lu Han had spammed them with photos of poor, poor Yixing acting as his guinea pig for new clothes, or maybe it was Zitao telling them I don't know how to live without you all but I'm having!! So much fun!! In Mexico!!! In reality, it was a reminder from Baekhyun, saying, hey dont screw up d first run okok?? Read, but not replied to. Baekhyun had to have a taste of his own medicine. Mastering the tracks took no more than two weeks, and Baekhyun was the first person Kyungsoo had sent the track to. Unsurprisingly, Joonmyun was the first to react with a plethora of smileys and I'm so proud of you :'). Jongdae said the exact same thing, except through a short video with the facade of Pokemon Center Osaka as the backdrop (at this point, Kyungsoo had to point out that Jongdae was putting on weight and that he was beginning to look like Pikachu circa 2002). Chanyeol and Kris were generous with praise as always, even if Kris had pointed out that RnB really wasn't his style. Jongin, Sehun and Zitao dropped by the booth one time to visit and give Kyungsoo a huge and painful hug — they'd grown out of their youth and into the bodies of young adults, worn out and worn down by work. Yixing and Lu Han sent a picture, one conveniently taken in a penguin park somewhere in the U.K.. make yow brothas proud they'd scribbled on the photo in almost illegible English; they probably enlisted Kris' help to translate. Kris' intention was probably good, but the spelling was horrible. A week later, Baekhyun's reply came in the form of a voice recording — his own rendition of Kyungsoo's song, sans the backing track and the ad libs. man i wudve sounded great singing ur song, Baekhyun said in a message that came after the recording, and Kyungsoo replied, not everything's about you… you ass. boo. u luv me anyway, Baekhyun said in response. Kyungsoo scoffed in thoughtless retaliation, thankful that the technology to translate muffled sounds into text messages hadn't been invented yet. He replayed the clip, anyway, a thin but comfortable enough blanket covering his head, isolating him from the world, filling his ears with the static and Baekhyun's singing. Seven months later and he still knew Baekhyun's voice like the back of his hand, still had the sharps and the flats memorized, still approached Baekhyun's tone with hesitation disguised in a careful nod and a soft bite of the lip. Baekhyun had an innate grit to his voice, a gravel that somehow blended well with Kyungsoo's silky tone, and perhaps that was why Kyungsoo found himself singing along, singing the second vocals to a song he composed. Baekhyun was singing his song with as much passion as a singer debuting at the age of eighteen, like he's never lost that thirst for fame and fortune and he's simply sharing his voice with everyone. Baekhyun was singing a song Kyungsoo had written with him in mind. That was not how things were supposed to be. There was a sharp Kyungsoo hadn't caught on the first run, and he smiled briefly before closing the clip. Baekhyun's reply was a sad emoticon and a promise, saying, u better make me listen 2 d whole single ok ill try to squeeze in time in my busy sked 4 u. Kyungsoo's response was a loud exhale, a choked chuckle. Two weeks later, Kyungsoo sent them a link to the iTunes download of the single, and Sehun asked for the tracks, instead. "You ass," Kyungsoo said when they saw each other, and pinched Sehun in his side. "Can't even be assed to download the songs legally?" "I thought we were friends, hyung," Sehun replied, trying on a pout and a worried look. He brushed off a fake tear. Kyungsoo pinched his cheeks. "Assuming makes an ass of you and me," he said in reply, then continued as he pinched harder, "my friend." When the single hit #1 on the charts, Kris called for a celebration, but Kyungsoo ended up paying for everything, anyway. Zitao was in charge of getting them connected to the few missing ones — Joonmyun who was in Switzerland, rubbing elbows with oh my God, Roger Federer and Stan Wawrinka after one of their prepping sessions for the upcoming US Open, Jongdae who had yet to get over Tokyo and had been accused of overstaying by Lu Han and Yixing (so they ended up visiting Jongdae in Tokyo), and Minseok who managed to ask for a break. Baekhyun was out of reach, probably residing somewhere in the Pyramids of Giza or the Andes, and Kyungsoo had just brushed it off. He peeked at his phone, the blinking of light catching the corner of his eye. Baekhyun had sent another voice clip, but was no longer online, not even on WhatsApp. Not more than a few seconds after, Joonmyun's name flashed on his screen. "So how's Roger," Kyungsoo asked as soon as he picked up the call. Joonmyun suppressed a giggle. Kris ended up laughing for the next two minutes. Reunions became much less frequent in the succeeding months. The dancers were locked up in the practice rooms for most of the day, and Kyungsoo was holed up in many different studios while composing. Sometimes he'd phone Joonmyun to hum him a melody from the top of his head, or maybe hit up Lu Han because Lu Han's taste in music is eclectic. Jongdae had always been helpful with tying loose ends of a song together. Baekhyun wasn't useful for anything, save for inspiration for the lyrics. Kyungsoo carded through the lyrics sheets and laughed a little. He'd written an entire album on undefined relationships and unrecognized sparks and might-have-beens. This would be a hit to teenagers, for sure. "At least you know your target market," Joonmyun said one time, one of those days he wasn't busy admiring Federer's form from a distance and wishing he'd just taken tennis as a serious profession. "And Baekhyun knows his." "He knows nothing," Kyungsoo replied, sharp and quick. "And cares about no one but himself." "And his dogs," Joonmyun offered. Kyungsoo could feel a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, could hear the bouncing of tennis balls and Joonmyun's suppressed gasp. "But hey, he knows a lot. You just have to look at him closely, get to know him better—" There is no getting to know Baekhyun better, Kyungsoo wanted to argue. There's no need for that when they spent eight years singing alongside each other, sneaking glances over hunched shoulders, driving each other over the edge and pressing against each other behind closed doors. He'd already memorized every inch of Baekhyun — the scars on his lips, the angled plane of his face, the dip of his back, the wicked contours of his body — could still feel Baekhyun's fingers wound tightly around his wrists, Baekhyun's palms secure on his hips. He knew Baekhyun inside out and he knew Baekhyun knew nothing about him. "Go back to your idol, hyung. He's the one you need to know better." "We're already friends," Joonmyun replied. The excitement in Joonmyun's voice was a bit comforting. "Oh hey, sorry, I have to go." The first album dropped, and then the repackage album was released. There were OSTs for different dramas, one of which Jongdae had even starred in. On certain occasions, Baekhyun dropped him a message, voice clips of Baekhyun singing Kyungsoo's debut song with different ambient sounds as the backing track. The one set against chamber music was his favorite, and Baekhyun ended with, fuck, I can't sing when I'm whispering. "I'm too old for vocal training," Baekhyun says now, as they pass one of the vocal practice rooms. He turns to Kyungsoo with a worried smile and a mocking, teasing glint in his eyes. "Aren't you?" "I sold half a million copies for the repackage," Kyungsoo retorts. He picks up pace, feet taking him six safe inches away from Baekhyun. "I'm never too old for anything." "Oh yeah?" comes Baekhyun's reply. That cheeky bastard. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, prepared to let loose a snide remark, when Baekhyun reaches for his wrist. The slip of the fingers on his skin is gentle, almost careful, like if Baekhyun tightens his grip on Kyungsoo's wrist, Kyungsoo might break. Baekhyun rubs circles on the exposed skin with his thumb, and Kyungsoo feels all the air in his lungs dissipate, feels his mouth fall slack just a little as he tries very hard to say, "Hell yeah." "I forgot to tell you, we'll be living together again," Baekhyun says. His fingers are cold. "In the dorms. Since I'll be working as a composer for SM." "Can't you go home?" Kyungsoo asks, tries his best to not let the child wailing at the back of his head get the better of him. Baekhyun looks at his hand around Kyungsoo's wrist, then looks back up at Kyungsoo's face, meeting him in the eye. "But this is home." Kyungsoo gulps hard and takes a deep breath. It does little to even out his breathing. He shucks Baekhyun's hand away with a light motion and rolls his eyes. If there's one thing that he's certain Baekhyun knows, it's how easy it is to set off tiny explosions at the tips of his fingers. "I'm not carrying your luggage," Kyungsoo offers as a reply, and Baekhyun breaks out into the brightest grin Kyungsoo has seen in a long, long time. The management doesn't question Kyungsoo when he asks for half the day off — more like, Baekhyun doesn't give the management time to question Kyungsoo and quickly says, "He's helping me move in." Baekhyun walks past Kyungsoo as soon as Kyungsoo unlocks the door, and Kyungsoo is quick to do a side step, missing the wheels by just a second. Baekhyun drags his suitcase behind him, and Kyungsoo frowns at the squiggly wheels marks on the floor. Baekhyun scars everything he walks on, everything he touches. It's a miracle the suitcase is still in one piece even after all those years of travelling. Baekhyun spreads his arms wide, head thrown back a little. The gold streaks at the tips of Baekhyun's hair brush against his nape just lightly, and Kyungsoo fights the urge to reach out and pull at Baekhyun's hair to inflict pain, or maybe just cut off the unattractive faded color that's making Baekhyun's hair look like an absolute mess. He watches the slow, calculated rise of Baekhyun's chest, the abrupt fall, the way Baekhyun's lips quirk and tug up, a grin spreading wide on them. Kyungsoo feels like screaming, feels like telling Baekhyun to stop, don't even think about it, don't do what we did when we were given this dorm years ago, but too late — Baekhyun's lips are now parted, poised for a declaration that might have been brimming on his lips for far too long already. "I'm home!" Baekhyun does a little victory dance that Kyungsoo recognizes as something from 2014, during a bowling night. Baekhyun finally scored a strike and Chanyeol was gaping in disbelief and Kyungsoo was the nearest thing, so Baekhyun latched onto him, took him in his arms and twirled him around while he chanted, I did it, I did it, I actually did it! Kyungsoo can still remember the sharp tang of citrus and sweat as he accidentally-on-purpose buried his face in the crook of Baekhyun's neck. He takes a deep breath now, eyes still trained on Baekhyun. Baekhyun makes a beeline for his old room, luggage in tow. Kyungsoo looks at the markings on the floor, then follows Baekhyun to the room. Old habits die hard. + Time and again, Kyungsoo is reminded of the reasons why he questions his friendship with Baekhyun. There's a list somewhere at the back of his mind, one that he only ever takes out when he's drunk, but he remembers some key points — one, Baekhyun always has to be right, even at the expense of letting slide choice snide remarks; two, Baekhyun is loud and unruly and obnoxious, the worst person to be with at seven in the morning; and three, in all caps, Baekhyun's inability to be useful for any household activity. So 7 a.m. sees Kyungsoo mixing a pre-made pancake batter in a bowl and Baekhyun sitting like a good kid, legs crossed, too big a grin stretching the corners of his lips. "We could've just ordered food, you know," Baekhyun says, and Kyungsoo bites back the urge to chuck the wooden spoon at Baekhyun. "I was just joking when I asked you to cook for me—" "At 6 a.m.," Kyungsoo cuts. "You woke me up at six in the morning to fucking joke about making breakfast because you didn't wake up for dinner because you were jetlagged." "You didn't wake me up," Baekhyun chimes. Kyungsoo's grip on the spoon tightens, and the pace at which he beats the mix quickens. "You're too nice sometimes, you know? You could've just pushed me off the bed and kicked me until I woke up and—" Kyungsoo turns around sharply and says through gritted teeth, "Make some coffee, Byun." Baekhyun bursts into a peal of laughter and Kyungsoo slowly, carefully turns around, closing his eyes until he finds his balance again, until he can feel his fingers against the wood and Baekhyun's laughter has died down. At least Baekhyun's useful for something, he muses as Baekhyun rummages through the fridge for coffee, grinning when he finds the bag of ground beans in less than a minute. If there's a trait of Baekhyun's that Kyungsoo appreciates, it's his focus and determination, the way he sets his eyes on something until he gets it and gets it right — Baekhyun squinting his eyes as he surveys the contents of the fridge, wading through the bags of lettuce and milk cartons, Baekhyun sweeping past him, reaching for the mugs, tapping on one briefly before snatching two from the rack. Baekhyun looks at him, stares, like he kind of wants to know if Kyungsoo approves of his choice of mug or has something to say about stealing Kyungsoo's favorite mug — the one with bear and strawberry prints — for his own. Kyungsoo blinks twice before turning his gaze back to the pancakes. Don't overcook, says the instructions. He tends to get carried away sometimes. Baekhyun becomes quiet company over breakfast. The most noise Baekhyun makes is when he begins to poke holes at the pancakes as if trying to incapacitate them, and Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes through his bangs as he keeps the staring to a bare minimum. His mug — the Pantone one; he's fairly certain it used to be Lu Han's — provides just the right amount of distance between a smile and a scoff. The brewed coffee makes not smiling more of a chore, especially when Baekhyun grumbles at his unsuccessful attempt at making a neat smiley face on the pancake. Kyungsoo grabs Baekhyun's plate, carving a tiny smiley on the right, untainted side of the pancake. When he shoves the plate in Baekhyun's direction, Baekhyun's wearing the biggest, brightest grin, and Kyungsoo has to fight the upward pull on the corners of his lips to keep himself in check. Baekhyun stuffs his mouth with pancakes and Kyungsoo stuffs the image of that exact moment — when old Baekhyun meets new Baekhyun — at the very back of his mind — for future use, something to laugh at when recording sessions set off his nerves or for when Baekhyun wakes him up again at six in the morning to ask for food, he's not exactly certain. But he keeps it there, nonetheless; just in case. "I'll take care of the dishes," Baekhyun says after a while, reaching for Kyungsoo's plate. Kyungsoo focuses on the clinking of the utensils and plate against plate, drowning out the angry voices in his mind, the ones that say, don't fight it. The drive to the company building is silent, save for Baekhyun occasionally bursting into song at the start of every new track. Kyungsoo's playlist is a mixbag of tricks, but Baekhyun seems to always blurt out the correct lyrics of every song that comes up on Kyungsoo's stereo. After a while, Kyungsoo finds himself singing along, loud enough to match the backing track but faint enough that it doesn't soar above Baekhyun's vocals. It feels a bit like 2012, when they were forced to shower together and Baekhyun had picked an SNSD song to sing throughout the activity. Kyungsoo wanted to sing a DBSK song — Beautiful Life was totally his jam at that time — but Baekhyun decided to belt out Into the New World at the same time that Kyungsoo turned off the tap and started lathering shampoo on his hair. He'd turned on the tap again as quickly as he could just to drown out Baekhyun's voice, but Baekhyun's tone was the kind that stuck to you like glue or honey, like a birthmark, carving its history on your skin, a burden you'll forever carry. Baekhyun's voice rung in his ears long after they'd parted after showering. Baekhyun's voice stung. "I wanna feel the car— whoa!" Kyungsoo blinks twice, eyes catching the traffic light flashing an angry red in front of them, hands working quickly on the wheel as he pulls to an abrupt stop. "I didn't come back to Korea to die!" Baekhyun exclaims, voice breaking somewhere towards the end, and Kyungsoo finds Baekhyun sunshine hair and the panicked expression on his face oddly comforting, a reminder that he won't be getting a ticket for beating the red light and almost running into a truck. "Sorry," he mumbles. Matt Nathanson is still singing in the stereo, but it's a different song now; Kyungsoo can't make out the title in the midst of the city noise and Baekhyun grumbling beside him. "You almost killed me," Baekhyun blurts out. Heavy breathing, then, "Us. You almost killed us." "I almost beat the stop light, Baekhyun. Jesus—" He takes a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from Baekhyun, backlit and glowing. "We're alive. We wouldn't have died even if I did end up—" Baekhyun jabs him in the arm. Baekhyun's eyebrows are furrowed and the downward tug of the lip almost makes Kyungsoo squirm and choke and apologize for a second time. He doesn't take chances, though, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything else. Eloquence comes to him in song and actions, never spoken words. Baekhyun has always been the wordsmith between the two of them. Rarely do they ever switch roles; they always end up in a collision of limbs, fists making contact with skin and the corners of their lips drawn to a smile, a challenge, an unspoken bring it on. "Green means go," Baekhyun replies after a while. He cocks his head in the direction of the traffic light, and Kyungsoo takes a deep breath before stepping on the gas, completely ignoring the cold press of Baekhyun's palm on his thigh. He thumbs the steering wheel; his hands are unbelievably warm. In the company building, Baekhyun heads to the opposite direction even before Kyungsoo can turn to him and ask what he'll be up to for the rest of the day. The training center's in the east wing and most of the offices are in the west; Baekhyun's neon pink-striped top sticks out from a sea of drab colors like a sore thumb. There's a bounce in Baekhyun's step — this one Kyungsoo recognizes from years back, the same jerk of the body that says, in Baekhyun's whiny voice, I'm not afraid of anything. I laugh in the face of danger. But holy shit, this thing freaks the fuck out of me. Kyungsoo clenches and unclenches his fists, feels his own skin instead of Baekhyun's. He remembers Baekhyun's relieved smile after their first live of What Is Love — they were backstage and Baekhyun was living off of the screams of the crowd just beyond the darkness of the stage. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, listless, sweaty from stage lights and adrenalin. He had a crazy grin on his lips and he'd bumped into Kyungsoo, forehead first. He'd giggled at the collision and took Kyungsoo's hand in his and took small breaths, even and spread out. "It's fucking over," Baekhyun had said, eyes still gleaming. Kyungsoo didn't have the heart to say, It's only just begun. Kyungsoo feels the elevator button beneath his fingers before pressing it lightly. The day has just started. Kyungsoo's phone sounds off at least three times that morning, and only when Jongin visits him in the studio does he realize that it's already one in the afternoon. There's a trace of worry in the way Jongin furrows his eyebrows, and Kyungsoo ducks, reaching for the paper bag that Jongin has brought with him instead of addressing Jongin's frown. "You can't miss your meals all the time, hyung," Jongin says, quickly snatching the paper bag away, and Kyungsoo sinks back in his seat, his arms falling to his sides in defeat. "I just have to finish this track," he reasons out, then pats the empty seat beside him. Jongin plops on the space unceremoniously — muscle memory rarely ever lets Jongin down, but it's been a while since they've sat down beside each other like this, since Jongin actually had time to leave dance practice early, if at all. "And I haven't been missing meals, okay. I've actually been eating better recently—" "I saw him." Kyungsoo looks up from combing through the contents of the bag, looks at Jongin briefly, then gazes back at the darkness inside. Years after and Jongin still hasn't gotten his afternoon beverage preference right. He wants to blame being holed up in the studio all the time and Jongin's reluctance to let go of poor choreography until it is perfected, or the fact that he barely has time to think of anything else to grab from a convenience store other than a bottle of water or a cup of Americano from Starbucks, if he's lucky. "Banana uyuu," he mumbles, holding the carton of strawberry uyuu up, flashing the label in Jongin's direction. His eyes are still fixed on the contents of the bag, and there's a sliver of light somewhere in the bottom. "I told you before, strawberry uyuu is for—" "For when you share a stick with Baekhyun-hyung in the roof deck." Jongin snatches the drink from him and punctures the softest spot, then gestures at the paper bag. "If you look more carefully this time, you'll find the drink you're looking for." Kyungsoo sifts through the food containers and spots the banana uyuu at the bottom of the bag. "He came back yesterday," he says, surrendering. "He's staying in my hou— in the dorms." "Oh?" Jongin sucks on the straw. "And how was the first night?" Kyungsoo chuckles. "It was peaceful." He slips the straw in the hole carefully, then places the bag between him and Jongin. "He passed out early, woke me up at ass o'clock to make me cook." "I meant to ask, how are you?" Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Jongin has never been known to take shortcuts, too worried about being discombobulated and misinterpreted, and Kyungsoo is all about long-winded routes and prolonged silence and lingering stares. He'd slept well last night, but not without the help of music and a glass of milk. He played first album songs on repeat just as he was about to drift off. Then What Is Love came up and he was brought back to 2012 and late night vocal sessions, hours spent hugging his legs close to his chest as Baekhyun's voice broke at the sweetest, most important parts of the song. "You have to clean up that run," Kyungsoo had said. Baekhyun let out an exhale and plopped beside him, his head finding a comfortable fit on Kyungsoo's shoulders. "And stop eating ice cream. Your voice is already awful as it is." "I think you mean amazing," Baekhyun quipped. The laughter that slipped from his lips was scratchy from start to finish, and for a moment Kyungsoo wondered if placing a finger on Baekhyun's lips would effectively shut the latter up and actually help heal Baekhyun's sore throat. "But yeah, I sounded pitchy back there. Dammit, I need to find a workaround for this. My voice is too nasal, everything sounds sharp." Byun Baekhyun and his hard-edged words, his hard-edged resolution. Kyungsoo's breath hitched; he didn't know if the practice room was too big for two people set to debut in a few months of too small for just him and Baekhyun. "I'll live," Kyungsoo replies, finally finding the right words, and takes a sip of his drink. He musters the most natural smile he can, lets it hang from the corners of his lips until Jongin's convinced that he's telling the truth and turns his gaze back to the food container on his lap. "And how are you, big shot?" he asks, and the light flush of Jongin's cheeks tells him that he's won the battle. I have to, he says to himself much later, once Jongin has quieted and resolved to finishing the food in his box in two minutes for fear of coming late to an appointment with another group set to debut in a month. He repeats it in his mind until the sound permeates his ears, until the words slip from his lips. "I have to," he repeats. The microphone of his laptop catches the sound. It's an unhealthy sound wave, the peaks too low for human hearing. Kyungsoo hears it loud and clear in his ears, nonetheless. The initial draft for his new title song blares in the four corners of the room at quarter 'til ten in the evening. He grimaces when the song hits the chorus, and he catches a note that could have been sung better. He remembers running through that exact same part at least five times during the recording, remembers hitting the wrong key time and again, then the sweet sound of victory as he hit that note, a soft smile finally surfacing on the sound director's lips. There's nothing but the recording equipment on the other side of the booth now, the sound of his croaking stomach and his phone still humming the same song buzzing in his ears. He picks up the call, drawing the receiver close to his ears, and takes a deep breath when he hears the voice on the other end of the line accompanied by three soft knocks on the door. "You haven't changed a bit," Baekhyun says. Kyungsoo doesn't need to close his eyes to imagine a teasing smile tugging at the corners of Baekhyun's lips; Baekhyun's figure just beyond the glass, albeit blurry, hasn't changed much, and if there's anything other than Baekhyun's voice that Kyungsoo knows like the back of his hand, it's the behavior of Baekhyun's lips — the way it quivers and purses when Baekhyun's unsure, or the way a grin stretches its corners, a boxy smile glimmering in the unflattering lighting. "You're still working your ass off, aren't you?" Kyungsoo simply turns to face the door, his lips torn between tugging up and being pulled down. He can feel a strange movement in his stomach — he hasn't had anything in hours. He shrugs, and Baekhyun pulls away with an easy, exasperated smile, ending the call and slipping the phone back in his pocket. Baekhyun very carefully makes a clearing on the desk, creating a space for a box of pizza and a bag of tricks. Kyungsoo quickly takes the music sheets, shuffling them in order as he fixes the mess he's made on the table. This is usually how things end up — Kyungsoo having his second meal of the day at ten in the evening, piles of paper in an organized chaos beside his laptop, his monitor buzzing with at least five different windows — his browser, a file explorer window, his sound mixing software, the sound input adjustment dialogue box, and a Line message from Joonmyun saying, I heard someone's back. How are you? Chaos has always been part of the routine, and for all of Kyungsoo's attempts at disposing all traces of clutter, Baekhyun always discovers the secrets written on neatly kept desks, on the collar of Kyungsoo's crisp white shirt. Baekhyun always finds him in a state of mess — physical or otherwise — like one disaster isn't enough. Baekhyun, ever intrusive and destructive with his bright eyes and equally bright hair, barges into his life and carves himself a niche somewhere deep in him that he has to live with for the rest of his life. Two negatives making a positive. "Pizza?" Kyungsoo asks. Baekhyun just nods as he takes out the contents of the bag one by one. His breath hitches when he sees three extra packs of hot sauce fall from Baekhyun's hands. There's a can of Fanta somewhere between the two bottles of sparkling water; Baekhyun actually knows something. "You didn't get chili flakes this time?" "You hate chili flakes," Baekhyun replies, laughing a little to punctuate his reply. Kyungsoo nods, proceeding to reach for a slice of pizza when Baekhyun intercepts, hand brushing against the sensitive skin of his wrist. Baekhyun's hand rests there and he holds his gaze. This is another competition, a test to see who will give himself away too easily. Kyungsoo leans further forward, holding onto the first slice of pizza his fingers graze, eyes still fixed on Baekhyun. Up close, he can see the wrinkles on Baekhyun's face, the dark circles around Baekhyun's eyes, a string of cheese the only thing that links their twin pizza slices together. Baekhyun licks his lips, hovers for a moment. There's a whole world of possibilities bringing them together and keeping them apart. Kyungsoo waits for the tipping point, the part where Baekhyun gives up and gives in, but Baekhyun's eyes are unwavering, his touch slowly turning from warm to cold. Kyungsoo tugs the slice closer to himself. Baekhyun lets his arms fall to his sides. The sliver of cheese breaks, falling on the pizza box, oil pooling at the edges. Kyungsoo will never dare take the piece; the chances of getting burnt are much too high. He feels the warm dough between his fingers and Baekhyun's fingers brushing against his hand lightly. "Hope I got it right," Baekhyun comments before turning his attention back to the food, eyes fixed on the slices of pizza as if they're the most interesting thing ever. The chances of freezing in the cold of Baekhyun's fingers are too high, as well. "I'm surprised you actually have time to rest." Kyungsoo stirs, hitting the break just as soon as a flash of red catches his eye. Baekhyun has moved on to humming the song playing on Kyungsoo's stereo — something from Paolo Nutini this time despite the burning need to stay away during a late-night drive. Baekhyun's presence is enough an alarm, every English word caught between Baekhyun's teeth and his tongue a reminder for Kyungsoo to keep his eyes on the road and not on Baekhyun. He risks a glance at Baekhyun briefly, though, before turning his eyes back on the road ahead of them. Eleven in the evening is early for a singer who's preparing for a comeback. "Ah, yeah." Kyungsoo scratches the back of his neck. "No dance tracks for this album, so I'm spared from dance practice. And the bulk of vocal practice will probably be done over the weekend." Baekhyun chuckles a little. The song hits the last chorus; Kyungsoo wonders what track will come up next. "Can't tell if that's actually a good thing," he says, too earnest as a scowl leaves his lips. "So you've been composing?" "Mhmm." Kyungsoo feels his muscles relax. The countdown to the green light reads 20 seconds. "For the repackage. And then a few tracks for an OST." Kyungsoo clutches the gear stick when the timer drops to ten seconds, and his breath hitches just a little when he feels a familiar warmth on the back of his hand. Baekhyun drums his fingers on Kyungsoo's skin, still cold — from the weather or from something else, Kyungsoo will never know — and lets his fingers slide as he squeezes Kyungsoo's hand. Kyungsoo counts — five seconds — but he loses track when Baekhyun stops moving, then the coldness of Baekhyun's skin seeps into his own when the traffic light flashes a bright and blinding green. The sound of car horns blares in his ears. Baekhyun withdraws his hand and crosses his arms over his chest. Kyungsoo switches on the turn signal as he steers to the right. It's a little too late for that. The plan is to hit the sack as soon as they get home but Baekhyun has other things in mind, lying flat on his stomach on Kyungsoo's bed as he snacks on Jalapeno Cheetos and telling Kyungsoo his life story being one of them. Baekhyun's narration is nothing short of a blow-by-blow account of the past three years he has spent moving from one place to another, lounging on beaches and along coastlines. "I fell in love with Pago Pago. The sand there is so fine," Baekhyun slips somewhere along the way, and Kyungsoo isn't sure if Baekhyun's really talking about the sand or the people lying down on the sand, sun-kissed bodies bathing in light. "So basically, you're telling me you spent three years slacking off while I dragged my ass to work every single day," Kyungsoo comments. He keeps a pillow between them, but Baekhyun knocked down the topmost pillow a few minutes ago while talking about the perils of snorkeling and wakeboarding — down goes wall number one. He reaches for a Cheetos stick, but Baekhyun blocks his way. "Did you save up all these years just for that?" Baekhyun laughs a little. Some crumbs of the snack fall on Kyungsoo's bed sheets. "I spent most of my time in the library there," he replies, then turns over so that he's lying flat on his back. "Then in the evenings I'd reply to work emails and—" "Work emails?" Kyungsoo pushes himself up with his arms, but quickly falls back into the bed. "I thought you were there for—" Baekhyun chuckles and lies on his side. He hugs the remaining pillow between them close to his chest. Kyungsoo buries his toes in the pillows near the headrest, eyes fixed on Baekhyun's arms wrapped around the bolster. He's beginning to lose all the feeling in his legs. "I did a lot of composing back then, when I was there. I was still in contact with SM, but the distance… made things not as stressful as they were supposed to be?" Baekhyun pauses, a smile surfacing on his lips as he exhales. "Like the world had slowed down and I finally had the chance to catch and keep up without missing anything important. And while the rest of the world was moving, really moving on, there I was, waiting for something to happen — something magical." Kyungsoo turns to his left and lets gravity weigh down on him, pulling him down so that he's facing Baekhyun. There's a few good inches between them but Kyungsoo wishes, wishes really hard that there could be more — a pillow fort shielding Baekhyun from his view or a massive wall creating distance between them, keeping them timezones apart. "And you made it happen," Kyungsoo mumbles just loud enough for Baekhyun to catch his statement. "I mean, SM wouldn't pay you for slacking off. They probably used your material." Baekhyun grins, canines peeking from the corners. "I wrote the debut song for the group that debuted recently. The one with the kid named Jongjin?" "Ah, Best In Class." Kyungsoo tries to suppress the laughter dripping from his lips, but to no avail; the name always makes him wonder if the executives think of group names while they're ass drunk. "I won against them in MuBank, though. And MuCore. And Inkigayo." A short burst of laughter escapes Baekhyun's lips as he rolls his eyes. "But that's unfair. They were pit against a veteran; there's no way they would have won." Kyungsoo holds his breath. He knows there's an awkward half-smile, half look of disbelief hanging from the corners of his lips, but he replays Baekhyun's words in his mind, the word veteran rolling off Baekhyun's tongue so nicely, it can even be considered music. Three years down the line, he's still scouring the surface of Baekhyun's sharp retorts for validation, like he can never be good enough until Baekhyun has given him a nod of approval or a small smile after saying, albeit grudgingly, "Well, that wasn't bad." He's always half of something — half fearless, half uncertain; halfway through working on some new tracks for the repackage album and halfway through working on some new material for a potential hit single; half of who he is and who he should be — pure, unadulterated Do Kyungsoo, not EXO's Kyungsoo with a touch of Byun Baekhyun on the side. "I wouldn't have let them even if they tried," Kyungsoo replies when he feels his lips again. His throat is dry. "And they're hard workers; they would have tried really hard." Baekhyun presses his lips together, toothy grin now concealed by chappy lips and a teasing quirk in the curve of the lip. Kyungsoo takes slow, measured breaths even as Baekhyun looks, stares at him, studying the crinkles in his eyes, the way he scrunches his nose, the movement of his lips. Baekhyun lets out a small exhale as his gaze lingers on the corners of Kyungsoo's mouth. He returns the favor, but keeps his arms drawn close to his chest, fists balled as he relishes in the feeling of his nails digging into his skin. He wonders how Baekhyun would react if he shoved a hand in Baekhyun's face or if he kicked Baekhyun in the shins, wonders how it would feel to finish kissing Baekhyun and let his lips linger without fear of Baekhyun brushing him off. The smile on Baekhyun's lips is soft. Kyungsoo stares, but doesn't reach out to touch. He lets his mind wonder. + Six in the morning finds Kyungsoo up on his feet, back pressed against the kitchen counter, occasionally throwing glances at the coffeemaker a few feet away from him as he says into the receiver, "I don't fucking get it." The distress signal he'd sent Joonmyun last night was a sticker of Cony weeping, followed by a sticker of Sally with question marks above her head. He said nothing more, partly because he'd been unable to keep his eyes open and partly because the slightest sound usually woke Baekhyun up. He placed several pillows between them again before turning his back on Baekhyun and constantly telling himself, get a grip, Do Kyungsoo. Get a fucking grip. "I do," says Joonmyun on the other end of the line. He's unusually perky at ten in evening; he's probably had too much to drink, but then Joonmyun's alcohol tolerance had always been stellar. "You're falling into relapse. The damage will be twice as bad as when you first admitted to yourself that—" "Don't say it," Kyungsoo says immediately. The light of the coffeemaker goes off, and the scent of coffee now fills the kitchen. It's enough to steady Kyungsoo's racing heartbeat; he hasn't even had coffee yet. Once, Joonmyun had finished his sentence for him, and it resulted to Kyungsoo gaping at nothing in particular, whispering to himself, fuck, you're right — I do more than like— And then he'd been cut off by Baekhyun barging into the terrace, a bottle of Cuervo in one hand, his free hand finding its way to Kyungsoo's own as Baekhyun drew Kyungsoo's hand close to his heart. Baekhyun got down on one knee that time, but not without a few hiccups and without almost slipping. He'd looked at Kyungsoo in the eye and hummed before singing Kyungsoo's name and saying, "Will you marry me?" Kyungsoo took the bottle, drank a quarter of the remaining alcohol, and said, "In your dreams, Byun." He then turned to Joonmyun and mumbled, "I'll take care of him," then carried Baekhyun to the bathroom just in time for Baekhyun to throw up. "You've already admitted it to yourself before," comes Joonmyun's reply. "How hard could it be to say it out loud again?" Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, a resigned sigh soon leaving his lips as he reaches for a mug. "It's different this time, hyung. We're—" Way past our prime, old enough to make wise decisions, can't be stupid anymore. It's been years and I've always thought, all this time, that I've already gotten over whatever we had. "We should know better than to play around. It didn't work before; who's to say it'll work this time around?" "Playing around?" Joonmyun scoffs, a yawn soon blending with the small sound that escapes his lips. "Are you sure? Because it certainly looked as if one of you got a bit too serious with things and the other got freaked out." "And who was it who got freaked out?" Light laughter, and then, "I don't know, Kyungsoo. You tell me." Kyungsoo's grip on his phone tightens. He looks at the mug, then shakes his head at his reflection at the base of the mug. His hair's all mussed up and he has eyebags the size of craters and it's six in the morning — he rarely ever gets up at such an early hour unless he has a shoot to attend or Sehun's knocking on his door violently, saying, "Hyung, I need to sleep and Jongin and Tao won't let me sleep and—" His life had been perfectly fine these past three years, and Baekhyun suddenly decided to show up at SM Entertainment unannounced. Not that Baekhyun needs to give him a heads up or owes him an explanation, but any semblance of a sign of coming back home, of returning to Korea and to Kyungsoo's life would have been great. This isn't part of the plan, and Kyungsoo has to stick to his plan if he wants to further his career and life a peaceful life. Baekhyun hates plans, shudders at the very thought of restrictions, craves attention and contact at the worst possible moments, the ones where Kyungsoo's at his weakest — after a recording, fresh from a long day at work, the adrenaline of finally hitting a high note perfectly still thick in his veins and his fingers and his lips. "Hey," comes a sleepy voice from a few feet away. Baekhyun's hair is as messy as ever, sticking up in several directions. There's dried saliva at the corners of his lips and his smile is soft and weak and sleepy. "Wanna eat out?" Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and offers a small smile in response, then says into the receiver, "I'll deal with you later, hyung." He slips his phone back in his pocket and walks over to where the coffeemaker is, fumbling with the handle for a while until he feels his hands again. "Need help with that?" Baekhyun breath is hot on Kyungsoo's skin, Kyungsoo tilts the coffee pot and watches the black liquid stream from the opening, watches as the coffee fills his once-empty mug, as Baekhyun presses closer, chest warm against Kyungsoo's back. Baekhyun's reflection — soft and vulnerable — catches on the surface. Kyungsoo spends half of the day running through the medley he'll be performing in his comeback stage — just three songs that he accidentally made a mashup of, and it turned out to be quite an interesting mix. There's minimal choreography involved, just a few hand gestures, some grinding of the hips and a well-timed smirk and lick of the bottom lip, nothing too taxing, but he does extra runs of his routine, nonetheless. "Can never be too sure," he tells Changmin when Changmin asks, "Do you ever get tired?" and throws a towel over his head. Three soft knocks on the door and Changmin bolts up. The bounce in Changmin's step tells Kyungsoo that Kyuhyun has already come to pick him up; the soft laughter slipping from Changmin's lips means Minho's peeking from over Kyuhyun's shoulder and waving at him silly. "I'll see you tomorrow at nine?" Changmin asks, one hand firm on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "You really think we're good for the day? I mean, I should probably do another run of that high note—" Changmin rolls his eyes, but surfaces with a smile. "Don't strain your voice. Too much of anything is bad. And eat," Changmin says, punctuating his statement with an accusing finger. "You almost missed lunch today. I can't look after you forever." "I can always turn to Jonghyun-hyung and Jinki-hyung for support," Kyungsoo chimes, and Changmin punches him lightly on the arm. "You're no longer my favorite. I'll go find a new one, hyung—" Kyungsoo doesn't need to tiptoe to spot bright hair over Changmin's shoulders, doesn't need to squint hard to make out the words Minho and Kyuhyun are mouthing — Ah, Baekhyunnie, long time no see! and The lost sheep has found his way back! "You've got a visitor," Changmin mumbles, a smile stretching across his lips, and Kyungsoo simply lets out an exhale in response. Changmin leaves, and Baekhyun enters the room. It's not supposed to be anything like a scene from a movie or anime or any story, for that matter, but when Baekhyun steps inside the room and the yellow light of the studio hits him — his bright hair, the sharp angles of his face, the cocky smirk on the curve of the lip — his features soften and light catches on his eyes. "I hope I wasn't interrupting," Baekhyun says, voice shattering the thin veil of gentleness enveloping him. "But Changmin-hyung's leaving already and they said they were heading out and—" Kyungsoo waves him off. "We're done for the day." He notes the slow-forming smile on Baekhyun's lips as he says, "Wanna grab dinner somewhere?" Five in the afternoon shouldn't be as magical as this, not when the room doesn't have windows where the warm light of the sunset can slip into or when the room is too cold for someone who's nursing a sore throat, but Kyungsoo feels as if everything has slowed down and the first contact of Baekhyun's fingers wrapped around his wrists is electric. He shivers. He swallows the small gasp that almost escapes his lips. He counts to ten until the grin on Baekhyun's lips falters, melting into soft giggles. "Are you asking me out, Do Kyungsoo?" is Baekhyun helpful response, and Kyungsoo lets out all the air he's been holding in in one breath. How hard could it be to say it out loud again — Joonmyun's voice rings in Kyungsoo's ears, the same line echoing in his mind until he musters a reply. "Only if you let me." The closed-lip grin on Baekhyun's lips is disarming. "Permission granted." Buccella is hardly the most romantic place in Garosugil, but the soft, warm lighting casts a lively glow on Baekhyun, and Baekhyun lays down the false pretense that is his frame glasses. Kyungsoo shifts in his seat in time with his light laughter. "Until now?" he asks, sticking a finger through the hollow frame, and Baekhyun just chuckles, pearly whites bright in the yellow light. The wooden chairs are a nice touch, and the old-school menu near the counter — still handwritten with dustless chalk; Kyungsoo made sure to check when they were looking for seats inside — is a familiar sight in a place that has grown too old too fast. He looks around him — the street lined with trees is now lined with people in their mid-thirties, all with crooked ties of crinkled skirts. He hears a lady one table away complaining about the insane workload, and a server cursing under her breath when a customer bumps into her. "Classic Buccella and iced Americano," Baekhyun says, beaming at the waitress who's taking their order. A light blush surfaces on the girl's face, and Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows — out of habit or boredom, Kyungsoo can't tell, but he finds himself giving the waitress a once-over, purposely letting the waitress catch him biting his lower lip as she says, stuttering, "And you, sir?" "I'll have what he's having," Kyungsoo says, voice noticeably a key lower. Baekhyun's giggling now, but the confident smile on his lips doesn't wane. He leans forward when the girl nods vigorously, then excuses herself as she turns on her heel to leave. "Still got it!" they chime simultaneously. Baekhyun's breathless and teary-eyed a few minutes after, still giggly at the thought of being able to fluster a woman at their age, and Kyungsoo's right hand hurts from when he repeatedly hit his thigh and the table in an effort to keep his laughter from breaking across his features. "Crazy, man," Baekhyun manages to say in between fits of giggles. His eyes have turned into slits and even if Kyungsoo squints, it's impossible to read Baekhyun. "Do you think she recognized us?" Kyungsoo laughs a little. "I don't know about you, but I'm still popular around these parts." He scowls when Baekhyun jabs at his arm, but laughs soon after as Baekhyun suppresses the howl about to spill from his lips when he hits Kyungsoo's bone. "Your face is one-of-a-kind," Baekhyun comments offhand. The smile on his lips is small, almost invisible, tugging up a corner of his mouth. Kyungsoo wants to pull up the other side and paint a better, more familiar picture, one of Baekhyun laughing the daylights out of himself. He wants to— "It's hard to forget you." "Is it?" Kyungsoo worries his lower lip, his cold fingers, the hem of his shirt. It's the end of summer yet the wind is blowing harder than the usual; if he listens carefully, he'll catch the faint sound of Baekhyun whistling or whispering in his ear, Not forgetting is easier than forgetting and remembering. He lifts his gaze, meeting Baekhyun in the eye, and the server arrives with their Americanos, both over ice. "Two packs of Splenda—" Kyungsoo says at almost the same time as Baekhyun and he just shakes his head before clearing his throat to amend his statement, saying, "Can I get four packs of Splenda? Thanks." The look of satisfaction on Baekhyun's face burns at the back of his eyelids. Inspiration knocks on Kyungsoo's door right in the middle of their drive home. Baekhyun has taken control of the music for tonight, digging through the playlists and weeding out Switchfoot, Coldplay, and The Wanted songs, but not without him shooting an occasional glance at Kyungsoo as if asking, You're cool with this, right? We're cool, right? Silence between two people is much more bearable with a faint backing track and cool breeze blowing against your ears. Baekhyun's voice still soars above all the sounds combined, though. Kyungsoo pulls a stop at a red light, throwing his head back a little when he sees the 120-second counter in bright red letters. Enter Rob Thomas and an old Matchbox Twenty song and Baekhyun's hand sliding across his back. His muscle tense and relax just as quickly, in sync with Baekhyun unfurling his fingers at his nape. Too familiar, a voice at the back of Kyungsoo's mind says as Baekhyun rubs up and down his skin in a slow, steady motion, almost in harmony with the song playing on the stereo. Kyungsoo sinks into the touch, eyes fluttering close as Baekhyun sings with Rob Thomas and the words of a song Kyungsoo knows like the back of his hand gets muddled in a sea of voices. With a violent breath of life, Kyungsoo opens his eyes. The traffic light counter's down to 5 now. Baekhyun retreats his hand, taking a stopover to brush against Kyungsoo's hand on the gear stick before completely withdrawing it. Kyungsoo makes a beeline for his room as soon as they get home, and he simply throws the keys on his bedside table before fishing for a notebook from beneath his pillow. He hasn't sifted through its pages in a while, not since he started working on the tracks for the repackage album and Baekhyun decided to appear in SM Entertainment unannounced after years of drifting apart from him and the rest of the group. He's been seeing the words more clearly these days — floating in his coffee, scribbled on the walls of the soundbooth or in the cracks of brickwalls in soundwaves, in the formation of the goosepimples on his skin whenever Baekhyun touches him. It's a song about unfinished business and confrontations and everything that he and Baekhyun are, that one thing Kyungsoo should have done years ago. Kyungsoo uncaps the pen, slips the cap between his lips and freezes when the footsteps draw nearer. He looks over his shoulder and the hovering presence is gone. They've been running in circles, running away from everything for too long already that it's too hard to break the bad habit. Baekhyun gives Kyungsoo the scare of his life and the best sex in his lifetime; Kyungsoo has given nothing but his heart in return. He places the cap back on the pen and lies flat on his back, humming instead. "The muse is being elusive, huh?" comes Baekhyun's voice from the doorstep. Kyungsoo cranes his neck only to be met with Baekhyun and his mussed up hair and his threadbare shirt clinging to his skin, wound tightly around his waist. There's the hint of ink scrawled across Baekhyun's stomach — characters Kyungsoo can't make out from all the distance between them. Baekhyun walks over to where he is, footsteps quiet, smooth as a criminal. He almost trips on his own feet halfway through the journey. "The muse is tired and wants to rest." Kyungsoo buries his face in a pillow. "Says I've been working her too hard and it's not nice for our relationship—" Baekhyun stumbles onto the bed, cushion sinking just beside Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo is quick to shove the notebook back under his pillow. He runs keywords in his mind, key points of the disjointed lyrics he's been seeing written on many different surfaces recently. A new favorite is Baekhyun's skin — the delicate patch of flesh just under his collarbones, then the junction of Baekhyun's neck and jaw. Sometimes Kyungsoo sees words slipping from Baekhyun's fingertips; if he ever gets the urge to hold Baekhyun's hand, it's so he can finally write down the right song, set to the rhythm of Baekhyun drumming his fingers on whatever solid surface. Baekhyun lies flat on his back, scooting closer to Kyungsoo until their elbows touch. The contact is electric. "Or maybe she's saying you need help, that you need to let someone in, y'know?" Baekhyun bumps his shoulder into Kyungsoo's. Another surge of electricity; the pain lingers in his bones. "Because it's not everyday your muse returns with a vengeance but leaves quickly." Kyungsoo's breath stills. His fingers are cold and numb — from driving a top-down convertible with the cold wind blowing on his face or from the aircon being set to Cool 19 or from the lack of space between him and Baekhyun, he can never tell. There's a question brewing at the pit of his stomach, torn between fight and flight, and it burns in his throat, in his chest, like the acid reflux Baekhyun always gets when he does one too many extra runs of the routine without pausing for quick breaks or to eat. The old line was why did you choose soul-searching over your career, why are you so stupid, why did you leave me, you ass— "Why did you come back?" He hears the sheets rustle beside him. He peeks, turning to his side, and he sees Baekhyun sitting on the bed, feet propped under his legs. Baekhyun's lips are drawn to a thin, thin line, all the color in his cheeks gone. Kyungsoo has seen this look before — when they'd decided on disbanding and Zitao burst into choked sobs and Baekhyun, keeping his tears at bay, retreated to the far end of the couch, hugging his legs to his chest. "What?" Baekhyun asks, voice barely above a whisper. Kyungsoo pushes himself up with one arm, sitting up so that he's facing Baekhyun. Without the proper lighting and makeup, Baekhyun actually looks old, stretched thin, vulnerable. There's an unspoken question in the way Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows. "Why did you come back?" Kyungsoo says again, this time slowly, enunciating each syllable. "Why did you decide to return to Korea? Why now? Why not a year or two ago, why only now?" Baekhyun's eyes flit from Kyungsoo's eyes to his lips and back up. "I left something." Left eleven other people waiting for the day he'd come back, left the management the empty promise of returning someday and signing a solo contract with them, left Kyungsoo with his heart exposed when he flashed a plane ticket at him hours before Baekhyun dropped the news on everyone. Baekhyun moves closer, palms warm on Kyungsoo's knees. Only then does Kyungsoo realized he's held his breath in much longer than intended. "That's a stupid reason," Kyungsoo says in one breath. "Enough with the bullshit, Baekhyun. Why did you—" "When I left for Greece, I didn't plan on staying away for too long. Just a few months, maybe, to relax and get rid of the residual stress. Come back renewed and all that shit." Baekhyun chuckles briefly, rubbing the tip of his nose. "And then you told us that you're working on your solo album and I couldn't— I knew I won't be able to handle seeing you like that." Kyungsoo scoffs. "Alone and overworked?" "Bright and shining." Baekhyun exhales. "Without me." There's a sharp upward tug at one corner of Kyungsoo's lips. "Of course, it has to be about you." Years ago, Kyungsoo would have resorted to actions instead of words, would have hit Baekhyun on the arm or even punched him square on the face, all while grinning and promising much later to make amends, but they're no longer kids. He's a solo artist and Baekhyun has just returned from a three-year trip, and there are no longer ten other bodies shielding the tension between them from everybody's view. They no longer have the leisure of fucking around and fucking things up. "Tell me you came back for me," Kyungsoo says, whispering. He balls his fists until he feels his nails digging into his skin. "Tell me you came back for me and not your career, not for yourself." Baekhyun slides a hand up Kyungsoo's thigh, lifts it just before intimacy turns into passion and cups Kyungsoo's cheek with one hand. Gently, he pulls Kyungsoo close, closer until their foreheads touch and their noses bump. Baekhyun's breathing is drawn out. Baekhyun's lips are inviting. Baekhyun is touching him like they haven't touched forever, and Kyungsoo only responds by closing his eyes. "I came back for you." Baekhyun leans in, catching Kyungsoo's upper lip with a light brush of the lips. "And I also came back for this." This isn't the first time he's felt Baekhyun's lips on his — the first was backstage, after their first mutizen, an attempt to drown out Baekhyun's sobs; Baekhyun was pliant, and the kiss tasted of salt and mint from whatever candy Baekhyun had taken earlier — but this is messy, uncalculated, juvenile. Baekhyun nips a bit too hard on Kyungsoo's bottom lip and Kyungsoo seethes. Kyungsoo darts out his tongue to lap at the bruised area, but Baekhyun presses their lips together again even before Kyungsoo can breathe. He can feel the saliva pooling at the corners of his lips, can feel Baekhyun's nails at the back of his neck, can feel the wild beating in Baekhyun's chest when he grabs a fistful of Baekhyun's shirt so he can pull Baekhyun closer. Their noses bump when Kyungsoo shifts, but Baekhyun muffles Kyungsoo's groans, comfort so willingly offered in the open press of Baekhyun's mouth. There's a string of saliva connecting them when they part. Baekhyun's breathing is ragged but rhythmic. Baekhyun is drumming his fingers on Kyungsoo's thigh; Kyungsoo feels like singing. "Took you three damn years to finally say it," Kyungsoo mumbles. Baekhyun's laughter is a force drawing him in for another kiss. "Took you forever to let me in," Baekhyun replies. His eyes are as warm as his lips. (reprise) The sound of a hundred people screaming his name normally doesn't faze him, but comeback is much more unnerving this time around. It isn't the lack of sleep or the almost too-tight suit or the obnoxiously bright gold bowtie he's wearing at the moment, or the fact that Jongin decided to slip some easy choreography for his comeback stage at the very last minute. Maybe it's the reality that he's already thirty and people his age normally don't dance on stage anymore, or don't need a warm presence between his fingers, Baekhyun's thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand. "You're just using me to kickstart your hopeless career," Kyungsoo mumbles at Baekhyun. Baekhyun chuckles. "Using and abusing." He winks, and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "You missed that bit." "You two are up in a minute," the floor director tells them. Baekhyun nods at the director, then gives Kyungsoo a light pat on the shoulder before heading to the opposite side of the stage. The lights dim briefly before coming back renewed, a soft yellow glow now painting the stage. The sound of people cheering grows louder until a familiar melody comes in and Kyungsoo's heartbeat steadies, a warm blanket of familiarity enveloping him. He looks to his side. Baekhyun's grinning at him, a microphone secure in his left hand. He takes a deep breath and takes a step forward, into the spotlight. They sing.