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Baekhyun wakes up to the sound of tapping on glass, his vision slightly blurred as he tilts his head to glimpse at his alarm clock.

Three AM.

It’s frustrating, but his concern takes over and he finds himself rolling out of bed and padding over to the window. He sees him crouched out on the fire escape, and Baekhyun quickly jiggles the latch loose before he can push the window up. Chanyeol isn’t as hasty in his movement, slowly putting a leg through the space before bending down to slide the rest of his body into the room.

“Sorry, it must have gotten stuck. The wind.” Baekhyun explains, and Chanyeol waves his apology off, reassuring him.

He softly pads over to the desk, perching himself on the edge as he says gently, “I’m sorry for coming so late, Baek.” He’s avoiding Baekhyun’s eye, glancing at the floor when he plays with the sleeve of his much-too-worn bomber. Baekhyun doesn’t notice, pushing the window back down and pulling the curtains halfway to keep in the heat.

“What is it this time?” He asks, spinning around to face Chanyeol, who only looks up when enough silence has stretched between them.

The room is dimly lit, only partially illuminated from the moon and streetlights shining through the gap in the curtains. He clicks on the bedside lamp to improve his visibility, and there’s a sharp intake of breath at the sight of his injuries.  

Baekhyun crosses over immediately as his eyes widen, “What the hell did you do?” He gingerly tilts Chanyeol’s chin up, brushing his red strands of hair out of the way as Chanyeol slowly exhales.

For someone in this much pain, he generally does a good job of keeping his agony hidden. Call it an occupational hazard, or enough experience. Chanyeol forces a grin on his face when he answers, “The usual?”

Baekhyun is already kneeling at his chest of drawers, rifling in the bottom one for the medical kit he keeps on-hand. It used to hold just the regular items needed for minor injuries, considering its original intention for mishaps around the apartment, but it’s seen more light of day as Chanyeol’s exclusive kit. Baekhyun knows he’s had to stock up on supplies more times than he can count in the last few months.

Chanyeol’s fights have been increasing.

Baekhyun motions to his desk chair, and Chanyeol gingerly strips off his jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair before sliding into the seat. He watches Baekhyun unzip the pouch, pulling out the items he needs one by one. He’s silent until he sees the last few objects, and he visibly swallows.

A needle, scissors, and a lighter.

He knows it’s bad this time, so he shouldn’t be that surprised.

“Do you want something?” Baekhyun asks, pulling on a pair of fresh disposable gloves. He holds out a bottle of Ibuprofen, offering him a painkiller, even though it’s pointless. Chanyeol will refuse anyways, but there’s a chance, while miniscule, that he could always surprise Baekhyun.

He doesn’t.

Chanyeol slowly shakes his head just as expected, and Baekhyun doesn’t try to hide his disapproval when he pulls on his bottom desk drawer. The bottle of rum is sitting there as usual, and Chanyeol gives him a grateful smile when he scoops it up, unscrewing the cap to take a long swig. Chanyeol knows it’s kept there just for him, even when Baekhyun doesn’t agree with this particular method of assuaging his pain.

“I know I’m not supposed to drink,” Chanyeol’s voice is clear.

“I didn’t say anything.”

He shrugs, “You don’t have to. I know you better than that.”

Baekhyun glances at him, eyes gentle when he flicks the desk lamp on and adjusts the light so it shines directly on Chanyeol’s face.

His right cheek is already bruising with a party-swollen eye to match, and there’s a deep cut on his forehead with dried blood trailing down his nose. Baekhyun’s gaze flickers down to his hand, now that the sleeve of his jacket isn’t hiding anything. His bloodied knuckles are coloured a deep purple and red, and while this is not the worst that he’s seen, Baekhyun still can’t hide all the anguish that crosses his face. Even if he does try to smile for Chanyeol’s sake.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he says, his voice still low.

“Do what?” Baekhyun asks, his attention back on the task at hand as he starts squeezing some numbing cream out of the tube.

“Pretend that it’s better than it looks,” he answers, before faintly grimacing, right eye scrunching shut at the intense cooling feeling on his wound. Baekhyun keeps quiet, applying the cream calmly for a few seconds. It’s when he finishes up and screws the cap back on that he answers.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Baekhyun denies, setting the tube aside. He picks up the needle, ignoring the noticeable increase in breathing from Chanyeol. Wiping the metal across with a cotton pad soaked with alcohol, he then moves onto sterilizing the nylon before placing both objects flat on a small, clean hand towel spread out over the surface of the desk. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Chanyeol nods, and Baekhyun quietly pads over to his door, slipping into the hallway leading to the kitchen. The sounds coming from outside the bedroom are muted, and Chanyeol keeps his ears attentive until Baekhyun is back moments later, ice wrapped in some cloth in his right hand.

“Hold it there,” he directs, and Chanyeol replaces Baekhyun’s hand with his own as he presses the ice to the area around his cut to lessen the swelling. He’s been told beforehand to avoid placing it directly on the wound, most notably the first time that Baekhyun ever helped him.

He slows his breathing, watching as Baekhyun soaks some gauze in alcohol.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and Chanyeol tips the bottle of rum back once more to let the liquid run fire down his throat. He nods, finally releasing his hold on the glass bottle as he frees up one hand, just so he can clench his fist tightly in anticipation. Baekhyun doesn’t wait too much longer, moving forward to dab the fabric over his cut, and Chanyeol automatically lowers the ice, dropping it on the table.

The numbing cream is working, but slowly, and Chanyeol hisses at how much it fucking stings.

Baekhyun is sympathetic, but he keeps his feelings unsurfaced, and instead concentrates at cleaning the gash on Chanyeol’s forehead, so as not to blur his intent.

“So, what was it this time?”

“What was what?” Chanyeol asks, both eyes shut tight as Baekhyun continues to gently disinfect as best he can. He wipes the dried blood off from around the cut to see the laceration better.

“The thing that did this,” Baekhyun answers, keeping his voice as monotone as possible. “Well, person, thing, object, whatever.” He doesn’t want to seem too curious, afraid that any sense of interest will break their arrangement.

He doesn’t want to scare Chanyeol away.

“Oh,” Chanyeol pauses for a moment. “Like I said, the usual. You know.”

Baekhyun tries to lighten the mood, sensing the rigidity in his body, “What, you walked into a door?” He chuckles, and Chanyeol just shrugs, smiling playfully.

“Something like that.”

There it is, that obvious façade. He always avoids the question. Honestly, Baekhyun should have stopped trying long ago to get him to talk, to say anything more about what he does, where he goes, who he is. But Chanyeol is somewhat of a closed book – one that’s been through too much, with his spine cracked, pages half-shredded, and cover torn – but firmly closed, nonetheless.

And all Baekhyun can do is mend the rips, however temporary, no matter how much he wants to read the pages in between.

“Must have been a tough door,” he finally says.

“But I’m tougher,” Chanyeol cracks a grin.

“I don’t know, you’re the only one coming in here at three in the morning asking me to patch them up,” he raises his eyebrows in light-heartedness.

“Well, if it helps,” Chanyeol begins, “I didn’t actually ask.”

“Ah yes,” Baekhyun masks his laughter, “you are making your point very well, sir.”

Chanyeol adjusts, edging back in his seat to relax as much as he can, “Always good to make sure that I’m not losing out to an inanimate object.”

It’s when enough time has passed that Baekhyun knows he can start, and he picks up the lighter. The flame emerges, small and bright, and he holds up the end of the needle to heat the point enough in preparation.

“Are you ready?” He asks for the second time that night.

Chanyeol closes his eyes, and Baekhyun thins the gap between them. He inhales deeply, pushing the tip of the curved needle into Chanyeol’s forehead. It’s immediate when Chanyeol’s hand clutches onto Baekhyun’s thigh, just as something to hold.

It would be hard not to flinch with every pierce of the metal through his skin.

And even Baekhyun hates this part.

Despite performing sutures on patients in his past four years of medical school, he doesn’t like hurting Chanyeol. Even when he knows that the particular methods that Chanyeol goes through to acquire these injuries pain a hell of a lot more, and Baekhyun is doing him more good than harm. His usual injuries fall on the less severe side, when all Baekhyun needs to do is clean and patch up a small cut here or there. The large majority of healed scars that mark Chanyeol’s body bear a recognizable sign as Baekhyun’s handiwork. No one else has ever treated him.

Baekhyun’s only had to give him stitches twice before this. Once, being a few months ago after a particularly brutal fight. The time before that was the night they first met (a very clear example of the worst that he’s seen).

Baekhyun practically had to force him to sit down with restraints, especially when Chanyeol wriggled away at the sight of the needle and backed into the corner of the room vehemently refusing any medical help. Not only did he deplete a good portion of Baekhyun’s alcohol that night, but Baekhyun is pretty sure he gained a few bruises himself here and there from Chanyeol’s unintentional flinching.

It’s funny in hindsight, learning that someone as tough as Chanyeol has a fear of needles.

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol’s nails dig in slightly before releasing, but he continues anyways, knowing it’s easier for this to be over as quick as possible.

“You can squeeze more, you know,” Baekhyun murmurs to him, running the needle through the wound and piercing deep in enough that it won’t tear out through his skin. He ties the stitch off, using the scissors to cut the thread before moving onto the next suture.

Chanyeol hums through his pain, and he scrunches his nose in discomfort as Baekhyun continues to sew up his cut. He does try to avoid digging his nails any further into Baekhyun’s thigh, settling for running his hand up and down the outside of Baekhyun’s pajama pant leg instead to help calm himself.

Baekhyun always makes him feel better.

“I’m sorry, again,” he whispers, glancing up to see Baekhyun’s focused stare. Baekhyun’s eyebrows are knitted together as he stitches up the slash in his forehead with a fierce determination. If not for the throbbing ache in his own head, Chanyeol would laugh at the sight of the tip of Baekhyun’s tongue sticking out between his lips. It’s too cute a contrast.

“I’m almost done,” Baekhyun ignores his apology. He lifts the scissors once more to cut the thread of the last suture, before he gently runs another antiseptic wipe over his work.

A length of gauze is placed gingerly over the stitches, and Chanyeol grins through the soreness, relieved that the suturing is done. “What, no Hello Kitty Band-Aid?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to make do with this,” Baekhyun replies, smiling as he tapes the bandage in place. “Boring, but you can get your friends to sign it if you want. Almost like a temporary tattoo on your forehead.” His eyes flicker down to Chanyeol’s arms before he adds, “Not that you need to add anymore to your collection.”

Chanyeol raises a hand, about to feel at the gauze and sutures below it, when Baekhyun grabs his hand mid-air before he can touch the treated laceration. “Don’t prod at it,” he narrows his eyes, and Chanyeol protests.

“I’m not prodding.”

“Don’t touch it unless you need to,” Baekhyun clarifies, setting Chanyeol’s arm on the table as he plucks a few cotton buds from the medical kit. He dips them in alcohol, leaning against the edge of his desk when he takes Chanyeol’s hand back in his own.

He holds his knuckles up in the light, gently running the soaked cotton over the dried blood. Chanyeol takes no notice of the stinging, preferring to keep his gaze on the man tending to him. His touch remains soothing, even when he knows Baekhyun is frustrated with his constant state of disrepair. It’s when he knows that he’s been staring too long that Chanyeol finally averts his eyes, specifically to the floor, as Baekhyun finishes up removing all the blood from his hands until the black ink tattooed on his skin are the only marks left.

Chanyeol doesn’t know why Baekhyun always does it, especially when he’s told him not to bother. His fists are just going to bleed again.

But Baekhyun always ignores him.

The silence continues to surround the two, enveloping them both, and it’s only the wind from outside rushing by that serves as a reminder that time is still passing by.

Baekhyun switches his attention back to the swollen bump on Chanyeol’s face, steeling his desire to flinch at how bruised his cheek is.

“You need more ice,” he says, noticing just how melted his previous haul from the kitchen has become on his desk.

Chanyeol just nods, and Baekhyun slips out of the room again with the leaking ice cubes, returning moments later with more solidified replacements wrapped in a fresh towel. Chanyeol gratefully takes the ice, pressing it against his upper cheek.

“So, what do I owe you this time?” Chanyeol asks after Baekhyun has started clearing everything away. He rolls off his gloves, turning them inside-out in a swift motion and throwing them into the trash bin.

Baekhyun turns to look at him, recognizing that he actually appears sheepish. It might be due to the time of the night (or early morning, depending on how he looks at it), or extent of this injury. But Baekhyun doesn’t let his mind wander too much on reasons.

“I think your firstborn shall suffice, as payment,” Baekhyun teases, rolling up the hand towel with the needle and scissors still inside as he sets it aside (he files a mental note to sterilize them thoroughly tomorrow).

Chanyeol shoots him a smile, waiting until he turns before he grabs Baekhyun’s hand, pressing a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and Baekhyun blinks.

“You know you don’t have to thank me every time,” he mumbles, looking away before the blush rising in his cheeks is noticeable.

“And you know you say that every time,” Chanyeol retorts, and he rises to his feet, shrugging his jacket back on. Baekhyun slips back into his bed, pulling the covers over him and watching as Chanyeol crosses to the window.

“Are you staying here tonight?” He asks, legs folded up against his chest.

Chanyeol’s heart almost aches at the sight of Baekhyun, innocent and comfortable, and the question he poses. But he knows he shouldn’t, and he shakes his head. It’s hard to ignore the disappointment that crosses Baekhyun’s face, but Chanyeol’s had practice.

“Not tonight.”

Baekhyun doesn’t answer, letting the response hang between them. He wasn’t expecting a confirmation, but the rejection hurts all the same.

“I’ll see you soon,” Chanyeol nods, almost too curtly, before he pulls the window up and slips out onto the fire escape. Baekhyun hears the window close shut, already lying down again as the clock flashes 4:27 AM.

/ / /

“You do not understand how happy your presence makes me,” Sehun says, all giddy. Baekhyun laughs, raising his eyebrows at Minseok over the top of his beer bottle.

“It’s the liquor talking,” Minseok claims, and Baekhyun shoots him a look as if to say yeah, no kidding.

Sehun is only ever this excited when he’s had three hours of alcohol in him.

“It hasn’t been that long, you know,” Baekhyun replies, playing with the neck of the bottle. At this, Sehun just rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. And I live ten feet away from you.”

Baekhyun glances at Minseok, trying to gage just how dramatic Sehun is being, when he tries to do the mental math, “Has it been that long?”

“Last time you came out was probably around the October to November period,” Minseok muses, and Baekhyun thinks back to last year, recalling the number of practicals he had to endure that semester.

“Oh, shit,” he blinks, taking another sip of his beer as Sehun enthusiastically nods in agreement with Minseok.

“That’s basically three whole months,” he emphasizes as he holds up four fingers. Minseok reaches over, pushing his pinky finger down to correct him.

Baekhyun twists his mouth, “Well, in my defence, I’ve had a lot of clinicals to prepare for, and my lectures too.”

“We have lectures,” Sehun deadpans.

“Not ones you need to know by heart. Medicine is all memorization and no social life,” Baekhyun replies, habitually pulling out his phone to check the time. “And speaking of, I need to go.”

“Are you serious?” Minseok widens his eyes, “It’s not even midnight yet.”

“It is in Sydney,” Baekhyun shrugs, hoping a joke will appease his friends. They glare at him, and he sighs. “I need to go over my material from last week before tomorrow’s morning lecture,” he explains. “You two are the ones that dragged me out on a Thursday night, so you really should have seen this coming.”

“Oh, how right you are, Doctor Byun,” Minseok plays along, arm draped along the back of the booth as he nudges Sehun. “Always the studious one.”

“At least stay until you’ve finished your beer,” Sehun holds it out to him, and Baekhyun pauses for a moment before taking it by the neck and tipping the bottle back until he swallows the last drop.

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and gives him a grin, “Okay, done.”

“You’re a special breed of annoying, sometimes,” Minseok says, and the two of them tip back their own drinks just as quick before shuffling out of the booth and following Baekhyun out of the bar.

It’s much chillier than usual outside for mid-January, and Baekhyun instinctively folds into himself as his shoulders hunch up.

“See you tomorrow?” Sehun asks Minseok, who nods in affirmation.

“You’ll be okay getting home?” Baekhyun checks.

“I have a jacket unlike you. It’s only ten minutes from here anyways,” Minseok shows his teeth when he smiles, and Sehun mutters something under his breath that sounds awfully like lucky bastard.

They say their goodbyes and part ways, with Baekhyun and Sehun taking off to the right down the street. There’s no point taking transit this time of night, when walking to the bus stop will divert them too much, and the cold needs to sober Sehun up anyways (not that the younger is enjoying the journey much, with the grunts that come out of his mouth with every step). Being well into the dark hours of the night, it’s not too unexpected when they hear some commotion down a back alley. Except it’s louder than usual, and their attention turns to the sight of two guys in a fist fight. The streetlight is dimmed, and they can barely make out their faces, especially with their hoods pulled up.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sehun whispers, nudging Baekhyun who is frozen in place.

Living in the city, they’re used to news of occasional violence, and have seen some minor drunken brawls first-hand. But this time it’s different, when there is no one else around, and Baekhyun can’t look away.

“Come on,” Sehun tries to drag him away down the (safer) street. He glances back at the scene at the last second, watching as one of them brandishes a knife from his pocket. It’s understandable when he exclaims, “Holy fuck!”, throwing his discretion to the wind as his voice rings extremely loud and clear. Baekhyun’s eyes widen in immediate fear and he claps his hand over his friend’s mouth as hastily as he can.

It’s too late, when the two strangers whip their heads to stare at them, both equally surprised by their sudden appearance and noise.

The smaller guy takes this chance to plunge the knife into the side of the other’s abdomen before he takes off, running down the opposite end of the alley and disappearing around the corner.

“Oh shit!” Baekhyun and Sehun yell in unison, and the other guy glances at them briefly, before his legs crumble and he collapses to the ground.

Baekhyun automatically finds his feet moving towards the man, getting onto his knees at his side as he fidgets, hands trembling. The stranger’s eyes are closed, his breathing shallow, and Baekhyun lets out the tiniest sighs of relief to know he’s still alive.

“Oh my fucking God,” Sehun follows him, hands on the side of his head as he starts to pace up and down, “Oh my fucking God. Oh my fucking God. Oh my fucking God.”

“Sehun, calm down,” Baekhyun exhales, trying to soothe both himself and his friend as he slows his breathing.

“Calm down? We just saw someone get stabbed.” Sehun gestures wildly to the guy lying on the ground, still unconscious. “Oh fuck, I’m going to hurl,” he bends over, clutching at his stomach and waiting for something to come back up.

“I know,” Baekhyun speaks through gritted teeth, and he lifts the end of the male’s leather jacket, wincing at the sight of the blade stuck in his body. It’s not too deep, but the amount of blood soaking through his shirt is worrying. It won’t be long until it’s pooling around him, at the speed at which he can see the red spreading.

“Come on, help me get him up,” he says, and Sehun whips his head to look at him with an incredulous expression, hands still wrapped around his stomach in a standing fetal position.

“Sorry, repeat that again?”

“We can’t just leave him here,” Baekhyun justifies, glancing back again to make sure the man is still breathing.

“Um, agree to disagree,” Sehun comments, straightening up and opening his palms in a gesture akin to wild apathy.

“Sehun,” Baekhyun fixes him with a look. “This is looking like a very severe injury. It needs to be treated.

“So, what? Let’s call 911 or an ambulance or something.”

“And say what? That there’s a guy with a fucking knife in him because we distracted him?”

Sehun points a finger at Baekhyun, “And this is exactly why we shouldn’t get involved.”

“This is our fault!”

“Not necessarily,” Sehun seems keen on playing Devil’s Advocate, stroking his chin. “That other guy still could have stabbed him regardless of whether we were here or not. You don’t know that. This guy could be a very bad fighter.”

“Sehun, I’m going to be a doctor. I can’t just let him die.”

“Who says he will? Maybe he’ll recover just fine and, you know, pull the knife out himself and be right as rain again tomorrow. When he, uh, wakes up.” Sehun pulls a face, looking at the stranger lying on the ground with a mixture of optimism, disregard, and delusion.

“You know you’re going to hell,” Baekhyun narrows his eyes.

“Known that for the past few years, yes.”

“Come on, help me out. Let’s get him home.”

Here, Sehun takes a long pause, blinking at his friend.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you just said.”

“Home,” Baekhyun accentuates every letter. “We need to bring him home.”

“Home? As in our apartment?” Sehun starts pacing again, cursing under his breath.

“Yes,” Baekhyun seethes. “I can bandage him up there."

“What about the hospital?” Sehun throws his hands up.

“Again, how are we going to explain this? The closest one to us right now is mine, and there’s no way I can bring this guy in and not be asked about it during rotations.”

“But we don’t even know this guy!” Sehun thrusts a hand strongly in the man’s direction. “Oh, no wait, let me correct myself. We know he is most likely a criminal or thug of some sort.”

“We don’t know that,” Baekhyun mutters, rolling his eyes. “We’re good people so we’re going to do this, whether you like it or not.”

Sehun runs a hand down his face, exhaling deeply, “You know, I regret I ever moved in with you.”

Baekhyun ignores him, mentally running through all his knowledge and training, and goes for the most effective method he can think of to try and wake the man up. He raises a palm and slaps him across the face, grimacing as he does so.

He hears a soft moan, and the stranger’s eyes flutter open as he raises a hand to his cheek, “Ow, fuck.”

“Oh God, he’s awake,” Sehun laments, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.”

“Did you just slap me?” The guy asks, voice more resonant than Baekhyun was expecting as he raises himself up on his elbows. He stares at Baekhyun, who’s moved slightly to crouch a little further away from him. Just as a precaution.

“Um, yes. Just to get you awake. You shouldn’t be unconscious, you know, especially with, uh, that,” he points to the knife, “sticking out of you.”

The guy follows the direction of his finger, blinking for a while as he stares at his abdomen. “Oh, right,” he says, as if he momentarily forgot about it.

“Hey, are you a drug dealer?” Sehun leans over, resting his palms on his knees.

“Sehun.” Baekhyun cuts his eyes at his best friend, who simply holds his hands up.

“Hey, it’s a valid question. If we’re going to have a druggie in our apartment, I’d like to know beforehand.” He pierces the man with a stern gaze. “So, are you?”

“What if I say yes?” The stranger asks, shuddering as he tries to sit up. He clutches at his torso, about to pull the knife out when Baekhyun suddenly shoots his arm out to grab his wrist.

“Don’t! You can’t take it out yet,” he warns. “We need to get you to ours first.”

The stranger looks up at them, eyes crossing back and forth between Baekhyun and Sehun – their expressions the very picture of worry and disbelief respectively – before he laughs, “Oh, no offense but that is not happening.”

Baekhyun rises to his own feet as the man slowly stands up, stumbling slightly.

“Okay, you honestly need some help. If that knife cut deeper than I think, then you definitely need medical attention,” Baekhyun asserts.

“Are you a doctor?” He looks at Baekhyun with both mirth and scepticism in his features.

Baekhyun crosses his arms. “Yes, actually,” he responds, before Sehun coughs in a closed fist and he reluctantly corrects himself, “Well, almost a doctor, soon. I’m training.”

“Okay, ease up, Doc,” he starts, “I appreciate it. But I’m good. I can handle this.” He starts to walk off, before his leg gives out under him and he nearly falls to the ground again.

Both Baekhyun and Sehun catch him, their hands gripping his arms as Sehun sarcastically comments, “This is a wonderful example of him handling it.”

Baekhyun chips in, “Unless you want to pass out again and possibly get a concussion, will you just let us help?”

The male groans, obviously feeling the effects of the blade stuck in his gut, and he nods hesitantly.

“Good,” Baekhyun bristles, hooking the man’s arm over his neck as Sehun grudgingly does the same. They help him out of the alley, making sure to take their time so they don’t exacerbate his injury further. Sehun grumbles, and Baekhyun has to shoot him several looks to get him to shut up.

“By the way, my name is Baekhyun, and this is Sehun.” He figures he might as well introduce the two of them, especially since they’re basically carrying this stranger back to their apartment. And the lack of the conversation isn’t really faring well for Baekhyun’s anxiety. It’s better to get on some sort of name-basis with his patients anyways, he’s learned. Ignoring Sehun’s deep expression of exasperation at telling this guy his name, Baekhyun inquires, “And yours?”

The male clears his throat, lifting his head up as he says, voice deep and raspy, “Chanyeol.”

/

It takes Baekhyun the better part of two hours to treat Chanyeol’s knife wound.

As soon as they get into the apartment, Sehun helps Baekhyun sit him down carefully on their couch. He starts whispering comments like, “Do you think his blood will stain the couch? Oh my God, what if it doesn’t come out?” and, “Maybe we can just say we spilled wine or something if someone asks,” and, “Oh my God, what if we don’t get our deposit back?”

Baekhyun ends up shooing Sehun into his room, and begs him to stay in there and out of the way for the rest of the night.

“I guess, it’s not like I can help with my half-degree in the arts,” Sehun shrugs, “Just make sure he doesn’t die in here, please.” He shuts the door, before cracking it open a smidge just to say, “But honestly. Do you want me to come help? I will.”

Baekhyun shakes his head in response, almost needing to pinch the bridge of his nose to quell the stress building up, “Don’t worry, Sehun. Go to bed. We’ll be okay.” Sehun gives him a firm nod before closing the door once more, and Baekhyun sighs in relief. He’s always somewhat touched by Sehun’s concern, even if it did come with one million snarky remarks.

It’s easier to work when Sehun isn’t around watching (he had once sat in on Baekhyun practicing needlework on an orange in the kitchen. That was more than enough commentary, and after that, Baekhyun had relocated his fruit patients to his bedroom behind a closed door).

“Okay, just sit there for a bit, I’ll be right back.” Baekhyun holds his hands up as a signal to stay, as if he thinks Chanyeol is going to run away.

He looks at him, frowning, “Are you expecting me to go somewhere?” Chanyeol asks, and Baekhyun bites his lip.

“Right. Sorry. Just, be right back.”

He returns with his medical pouch, frantically fumbling around for the supplies he needs. Chanyeol gives him a look, bordering on something resembling doubt and apprehension, because a shaky stranger offering to treat him doesn’t exactly get his vote of confidence.

“Are you sure you can do this?” He asks, and Baekhyun snaps his head up.

“Wh-what? Oh yes, yes.” He stumbles over his words before he returns his gaze back to the pouch. He’s done this before, of course. But this specific situation is very new, with someone requiring his aid in an unsupervised environment that isn’t the hospital or university medical rooms.

(In addition, Baekhyun has obviously never practiced on a stranger he indirectly got stabbed down a dark alleyway).

It isn’t much fun after that, learning that Chanyeol is very against needles.

“Well, what the hell did you think I was going to do? Glue it closed?” Baekhyun asks in disbelief, the needle in one hand as he steps closer to Chanyeol (who is shaking his head furiously and hobbling around the couch to put as much space between them as physically possible. Fear is a very good motivator for adrenaline).

“I don’t know, can’t you just, bandage it or something?” Chanyeol stammers, grabbing the roll of gauze off the table and waving it around.

It takes another five minutes of coaxing before Chanyeol finally settles onto the living room floor, a spare towel underneath him, and he lies back. He has a throw pillow between his teeth (and about half a bottle of vodka in him) as Baekhyun presses a smaller towel hard on the area to keep the pressure. He mentally counts down from five before he, very reluctantly but boldly, pulls the blade out in one motion, and Chanyeol tries to suppress his loud yell by clenching his teeth on the fabric.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Baekhyun whispers when he lifts the bottom of his shirt and immediately pours the saline solution over the open wound, watching as the blood seeping out mixes in and runs down the side of his torso.

Chanyeol is a lot less composed this time round, muffling his screams as best as he can as Baekhyun tries to calm him down with slow, shushing sounds.

“You have to stop moving so much,” Baekhyun says, voice as soothing as he can make it, “otherwise the bleeding won’t stop.”

Chanyeol shudders, the sting of the saline seeping into the wound is almost unbearable, and he takes deep breaths around a mouthful of pillow with his eyes squeezed shut. Baekhyun keeps the pressure on his torso. Chanyeol’s blood blends deep and bright into the pink of the towel.

They remain like that, until the bleeding has ceased and the area is iced enough that Baekhyun can start suturing.

"Um," he starts, "is it okay if I-" he gestures to the bottom of his shirt, and Chanyeol just purses his lips, nodding.

Baekhyun inhales, methodically rolling up Chanyeol's shirt so it’s fully out of the way. He spies more black ink on his abdomen that matches the tattoos on his hands, but Baekhyun stalls his curiosity.

"Okay, this will fucking hurt a lot, but honestly, tell me to stop if it gets too much, okay?" He says uneasily, and Chanyeol breathes out an, "Okay," in confirmation.

He tries to sew him up as quickly as possible, glancing up at Chanyeol's face every so often to make sure he doesn't pass out again.

"You're awake, right?" Baekhyun asks, an ever-so-slight tremble in his voice as he cuts the third stitch.

Chanyeol lets out a hiss, taking a deep breath and replying with, "Unfortunately."

“I’m almost done, I promise. You’re doing really well,” Baekhyun hurries his pace, making sure Chanyeol is still holding the almost-soaked-through towel and applying enough pressure on his abdomen. They keep quiet for the rest of the time, with Chanyeol continuously trying to muffle his groaning and sounds of agony.

Suturing with only alcohol as an anaesthetic was never going to be a good idea.

Baekhyun finishes up, cleaning over his stitches again before he unrolls a length of gauze.

"I'm done," Baekhyun breathes out a sigh of relief, holding out a hand for Chanyeol to grab so he can help him up onto the couch. "Here, sit forward a bit."

Chanyeol does as he says, grunting in slight pain as Baekhyun wraps the gauze around his entire lower abdomen, just for more pressure, before he fastens it tight.

"Okay, you just have to keep it dry as much as you can," he informs him, "and no strenuous activity, otherwise the stitches will rip out."

Chanyeol almost appears offended at the look Baekhyun gives him, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I have a feeling that you're not really a 'rules' kind of person," he answers as he cleans up the area and packs away his kit.

Chanyeol puts a hand over his injury as he tries to get comfortable, "You don't even know me."

“You were in a fistfight that turned into a knife fight. On a Friday night, down a dark alley. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Not really a ‘fight’ when the other fucker springs it on you, but okay.” Chanyeol mutters under his breath, and Baekhyun has to glance down to avoid laughing.

“Well, you’re all patched up now. I would recommend cleaning it often to prevent any infection. The stitches should hold, and you really should take some painkillers if it gets too much. I wouldn't suggest alcohol, but again, you’ve already crossed that line.” Baekhyun says, before pausing for a moment, “You did super well. You know, considering. I'm proud.” He nods at his wound.

“You talk to me like I’m a child,” Chanyeol comments, a weak smile on his face.

Baekhyun just keeps his blank stare, retorting with, “Well, did you hear the way you cried?”, without skipping a beat.

“Want me to shank you and see how you feel?” He raises his eyebrows, before leaning over – wincing as he does so – and picking up the bloodied knife on the table. “We could do it right now, if you need more practice, Doc.”

“The name is Baekhyun,” he emphasizes before spinning on his heel and striding into his bedroom to put the medical kit away.

He should be worried and cautious with someone like Chanyeol sitting in his living room, but his presence is an odd and unexplainable comfort. Baekhyun trusts easily.

He doesn’t expect Chanyeol to follow him, and it’s a surprise when he sees him in his doorway as he turns back around, leaning against the doorframe. Especially for the pain he's in.

“Your room is really, uh, clean,” Chanyeol notes, glancing around from his desk to his bed to the chair in the corner.

“Is that a bad thing?” Baekhyun asks, but Chanyeol doesn't say anything, taking a step forward instead as he continues to examine his surroundings. He’s staring at the photos pinned up on the pegboard above the desk; there’s one of Baekhyun and Sehun wearing birthday party hats and grinning at the camera, another of Baekhyun with someone else, lounging at an outdoor cafe table with sunglasses on, and a third photo of an older couple, presumably Baekhyun’s parents.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath after much too long a silence between them, unsure of what the next steps are supposed to be. "You seem to be handling the pain really well now."

"It's the experience," Chanyeol shrugs before slowly lowering himself down in the armchair near Baekhyun's bed.

"This happens a lot for you?" he asks, mainly for the intrigue rising inside of him.

Chanyeol lets his eyelids flutter shut as he tips his head back against the headrest. The chair is wide enough to snuggle in comfortably, and Baekhyun realizes that Chanyeol has noticed, "The fighting, yes. The cute medical assistance, no."

It's a good thing his eyes are closed, Baekhyun thinks, when he feels a blush creep onto his cheeks. "Did you want to stay here tonight?" He dares to ask, voice meek.

Chanyeol smirks, "Are you asking me to sleep over?"

"If you want. I don't know if you can travel much with your injury." Baekhyun finds himself saying, trying to pass his own unfathomable desire for Chanyeol to stay as concern for his health.

"You're truly a special one," Chanyeol opens one eye to look at Baekhyun, "helping out a seedy, potentially druggie stranger, forcing him to come here so you can give him stitches, and then letting him stay the night."

"Well, I couldn't let you die," Baekhyun answers, and Chanyeol chuckles softly.

"I wouldn't have died. Would have been a much more complicated and painful job to do myself, though."

"Either way. It's our fault," Baekhyun says softly, crossing over to his wardrobe to pull some clean clothes out. He can hear Chanyeol's deep breathing, and he smiles to himself as he pads over to his bathroom to change out of his clothes, slightly stained with blood.

He opens the door slowly, about to step inside, when Chanyeol opens his mouth. "Hey," he starts, and Baekhyun turns his head around, surprised he's still awake.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Baekhyun."

Baekhyun just nods, before closing the door.

By the time he comes out, Chanyeol is fast asleep.

/

Chanyeol is spontaneous and rebellious, with a disobedience that can rival a petulant toddler. This much, Baekhyun had learnt in the first week of meeting him.

It's been seven months now, and there hasn't been much change since then.  

That morning after, Baekhyun had woken up to Chanyeol gone, and his curtains drawn open. He can’t say it surprised him too much, and he shook off the minor feeling of gloominess hanging above his head before getting out of bed. He knew it was a one-time thing, a chance to help a stranger and do a good deed. He was able to use the Hippocratic Oath in real life, to use his knowledge and practice and actually heal someone, and after all, wasn’t that the main point?

Despite repeating this to himself over and over, Baekhyun knew he was partially lying to himself. Chanyeol was enigmatic, and Baekhyun wanted nothing more than to crack the mystery.

"So, I assume you didn't kill him?" Sehun had asked, and Baekhyun rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for your faith in my medical skills."

"Just checking," Sehun commented, before peeking into Baekhyun's bedroom and down the hall. "Where is he?"

Baekhyun had curled his hand around his mug for warmth and comfort, simply replying with, "He left."

It had been a few days later when Baekhyun got another shock of his life, almost yelping as he spied Chanyeol at his window.

"Um, hi," Chanyeol had said, grinning once Baekhyun had slid the glass up. "What's up?"

"Not much, just some coursework," he answered. "Uh, what are you doing here?”

"Just hanging around," Chanyeol cracked a joke.

“I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to?” Chanyeol tilted his head a little.

Baekhyun was quick in his response, “No, no! This is great.” He had internally rolled his eyes at his own lack of a brain-to-mouth filter, and added, “I mean, yeah sure it’s good to know my patient is still alive and kicking, I guess.”

“Definitely alive and kicking,” Chanyeol confirmed with a grin.

"Well," Baekhyun gestured after a few moments of silence, "do you want to come in?" And Chanyeol crawled into the room as if it was something normal.

The next time was five days later, when Chanyeol dropped by again so Baekhyun could take out his stitches (he wasn't exactly compliant that time either, with squabbles and more alcohol even when Baekhyun promised him multiple times that it wouldn't hurt).

It was easy enough, to fall into the pattern.

It's not every day that he taps at Baekhyun's window before rolling into his room. Sometimes it'll be a week or two that goes by before Baekhyun sees him again, crouched on his fire escape with some sort of injury or boredom that only Baekhyun can cure. He has grown used to his unexpected visits, and he leaves the window unlocked just for that reason. Chanyeol still knocks out of courtesy however, before he opens the window himself and crawls through.

Sometimes, Baekhyun prefers it when Chanyeol spaces out their visits, giving him a couple more days to breathe. His mind stays clouded after one of his appearances, and he knows he doesn’t focus as well on his practicals (case in point: when Baekhyun accidentally grabbed the wrong patient file and spent five minutes discussing irritable bowel syndrome with a man who had only come in to get his five-week-old cast removed).

It’s a mixture of concern and yearning that has him wishing Chanyeol would crawl into his room again, and practicality and diligence that sometimes hopes he doesn’t. Chanyeol’s wellbeing should not be at the forefront of Baekhyun’s mind, with his own life and path mapped out, and a younger delinquent was not part of the plan at all.

Yet, he can't lie to himself that well, and he suspects Chanyeol is accruing more injuries he just doesn't disclose to him. Maybe it's so Baekhyun doesn't feel like just a first-aid kit, or because Chanyeol is too exhausted to climb up the fire escape to get treated. He remains in the dark over the truth of Chanyeol's injuries and the brawls that cause them; Baekhyun prefers to keep his ignorance even if his curiosity claws inside of him.

He never asks, when he rolls up Chanyeol's sleeve to see new wounds and scrapes already a few days old and in the process of healing. He keeps quiet, because it's not his place to say anything. Even though they both recognize how he feels, it hangs between them as an unspoken reprimand. Simply because Baekhyun doesn't have the courage to tell Chanyeol how he feels, and Chanyeol isn't going to stop.

He's obviously not a fan of Chanyeol's long-lasting tendency to get into violent confrontations. Their arrangement should have ended months ago, after the first time he brought him home.

But despite that, he never turns him away. Chanyeol is the reason he always keeps a first-aid kit within an arm's reach of him, whether it's his bottom drawer or in his university bag. He buys supplies just for him, because he's scared of running out when Chanyeol will need them the most.

He likes to tell himself it's for the practice.

It’s those times when Chanyeol passes by simply to see Baekhyun.

He had passed him a copy of his timetable, which Chanyeol folded up into a neat square before pocketing the paper. He doesn’t always drop by during dark hours, choosing to visit during the day when he can spare some time and he knows Baekhyun will be at home.

They play board and card games, or Baekhyun reads him chapters from his medical textbooks (mainly so he can keep studying in Chanyeol's presence, and the latter can learn something useful that he might need in the future). Chanyeol will help test Baekhyun with his flashcards, inserting himself into the practice scenario when he realizes he's been in the same situation in the past, such as when he got knocked unconscious or sprained his ankle.

That doesn't humour Baekhyun as much as he thinks, but Chanyeol grins anyways and continues to quiz him, even when Baekhyun tries to snatch his study material back.

Sometimes, they'll watch a movie but Baekhyun always falls asleep halfway through. He wakes up hours later to find out he's been carried to bed, with Chanyeol softly snoring in his chair beside him.

It's not always for his medical help, when Chanyeol tells him he's there because he needs a place to crash. He settles himself into the armchair, even when Baekhyun already offered him the other half of the bed.

Whilst Chanyeol is a sworn breaker of rules, he doesn't cross that line.

Baekhyun supposes it happened gradually, when he fell for him. 

He is spinning around the whirlwind that is Chanyeol, and it's hard to pull back and brake. It's Chanyeol's smile, full of light and comfort even when he's in the most pain. It's the tenacity and stubbornness in him that drives Baekhyun to the desire of wringing his neck because he doesn't listen. It's his laughter, deep and rich. It's the mystery, when he's vague and elusive that keeps Baekhyun on edge and wanting to know. And it's the kisses he presses to the inside of his wrists that leave Baekhyun longing for more.

But it's that more that Chanyeol can't give.

So, they remain as they are: Chanyeol, the wanderer who collects scars, and Baekhyun, the medical student with a heart too soft to say no.

/ / /

"You're early," is what Baekhyun says when Chanyeol slides into his room.

Chanyeol glances at the clock on the bedside table and frowns, "It's past midnight."

"I mean, you're a day too early." Baekhyun points out, "I'm supposed to take out your stitches tomorrow." He doesn’t look up from his notebook, continuing to scribble away.

Chanyeol raises a hand to the wound on his forehead, still covered with the gauze that Baekhyun had put on a week ago, as if he forgot it was there.

"Oh, right," he says after a moment. But he walks over to the armchair and sits down anyways. He strips off his bomber, placing it over the headrest of the chair and adjusts his position so his legs are stretched out comfortably in front of him.

Baekhyun leaves him be, chalking this behaviour off as something else unexplainable about Chanyeol. His list is quite long.

He puts his headphones back on, watching the last few minutes of the recording of his morning lecture as he jots down more notes that he missed taking the first-time round. He finishes up soon enough, reading over his last few sentences to confirm they make sense, before shutting his laptop and flicking off the desk lamp.

Spinning around in his chair, his eyes land on Chanyeol, who has his own pair of earphones in, wire snaking into his pocket. Chanyeol pulls one bud out, raising his eyebrows as he asks, "Are you done?"

"Yes," Baekhyun answers, and Chanyeol beams as he puts his things away in the pocket of his jacket. "Judging by your state, I'm guessing it's minor?" He asks, hands resting on his knees.

Chanyeol twists his mouth, "You know I don't come by just for you to nurse me."

"Yes, but what’s the reason for tonight?” Baekhyun tilts his head to the side, and Chanyeol pauses, unsure what to say.

He settles for murmuring, "It's just a scratch," as his hand reaches down his leg. That's when Baekhyun realizes the left knee of his jeans is completely ripped apart, and he sees a flash of blood. He inhales deeply.

"Please tell me you got that by accident."

"Do we count ducking and sliding across the ground to dodge a fist? If so, yes," Chanyeol says carefully, keeping just a hint of wit in his tone. His cheekiness doesn't always go over well with Baekhyun.

Baekhyun keeps his mouth shut, rising off his chair to get the supplies as Chanyeol starts rolling his pant leg up. He softly hisses when he gets to his knee, pulling the fabric up and over the scrape so it doesn't brush against it.

Baekhyun settles down on the floor as Chanyeol leaves his leg stretched out, leaning forward so he can watch.

Baekhyun wonders if there is any part of Chanyeol untouched from damage, when he uncaps a water bottle, his gloves already on. He puts a towel under Chanyeol's leg to soak up the running water he pours over the scrape, eyes darting up momentarily to see his reaction.

His eyes squint ever so faintly, Baekhyun almost misses it. Chanyeol keeps his face stoic, with pursed lips; if it hurts, he doesn't show it. The scrape isn't deep, but it covers his entire kneecap along with a few inches of his shin. It's good the blood isn't dripping, with Chanyeol's skin coloured a bright pink and boasting harsh red lines of cuts running across. It's not exactly pleasing to look at, and Baekhyun presses the towel over the scrape after cleaning it to pat it dry.

At this, Chanyeol's nose twitches, but he still doesn't make a sound as he continues to observe Baekhyun's actions.

"Ready?" Baekhyun questions when he pulls out the alcohol solution.

He grins, tipping his head up as he gestures to the bottle, "Can I have some of that?"

"Want to die?" Baekhyun quips back.

"Like you'd let that happen," he mumbles, and Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, replying with, "You never know, maybe one day you'll push me too far and I'll just have to end you."

"By shanking me or something more defined?" He proposes, and Baekhyun taps his lip as he thinks about his answer.

"Probably something more defined. I have a reputation to manage and an MD to get, remember?" He smirks in jest when he uncaps the solution.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, clenching his fists when he says, "Okay, Doc. Just do it." His whole face scrunches up in anticipation, and Baekhyun wets some sterile gauze with the solution before placing it over the whole area of Chanyeol's scrape.

"Shit,” Chanyeol whispers, long and drawn out as he taps his foot automatically in reaction to the stinging pain. "How long does this have to be on?" He almost whines, head dropped back as he stares at the ceiling to distract himself.

"Just for a bit longer," Baekhyun uses two fingers to gently pat down the alcohol-soaked gauze so it reaches every bit of ripped skin and disinfects the area. He waits another moment before slowly peeling it off and patting Chanyeol's knee and shin dry again with the clean side of the towel.

Chanyeol watches with bated breath as Baekhyun holds up the Neosporin and squeezes some out. Swiping a rubber-covered finger through the ointment, he lightly applies it over the scrape to cover the whole area with a thin layer until he's satisfied.

Baekhyun pulls out new gauze to wrap around it when he speaks again, "There. I would say almost as good as new, but I think you crossed that road a long time ago."

"Probably a few too many 'almost's' back," Chanyeol agrees with a smirk when he bends his knee slightly and pulls his jean leg back down over it. "Thanks, Baek."

"You're welcome," he replies, light-hearted like usual. It’s so common that he doesn’t need to hear his gratitude every time.

Chanyeol crosses over to the window, sitting on the ledge facing in as Baekhyun packs everything away.

"Going now?" He asks, and Chanyeol shakes his head, pulling a small box out from his back pocket and giving him his most innocent smile when he asks, "Can I?"

"Does it even matter what I say?" Baekhyun counters. They’ve had the smoking discussion already, after the first time Chanyeol had pulled the pack out and Baekhyun had snatched the cigarette out of his hand to throw it away. Chanyeol had just shrugged before taking out another one, not expecting Baekhyun to repeat the same thing.

“You know, it’s not as funny the second-time round,” he had smirked, and Baekhyun pierced him with a glare until he held his hands up in surrender and said he would wait until later to smoke. That didn’t appease Baekhyun any more, but he let it slide.

The next time he had come over with a cigarette pack and the intention to smoke, Baekhyun had simply glanced at him with an expression of disapproval. Chanyeol ignored it before lighting up.

"No, but it's polite to ask." He flips the lid back, pulling a stick out and putting it between his lips before swinging his legs out and stepping out onto the fire escape. Straightening up, he taps a knuckle against the glass, "Are you coming?"

Baekhyun finds himself perched on the steel gratings minutes later, a blanket wrapped around him as Chanyeol takes a pull from his cigarette beside him. They watch the trees below them rustle in the wind, and Baekhyun shivers from under his layer. It’s early September, the time of the year when the weather already betrays them and the temperature drops exponentially.

“How are you not cold?” He looks at him in disbelief, and Chanyeol glances down at his bare arms as he blows the smoke out.

“Maybe I run hotter than most,” he jokes.

Baekhyun pulls a face. “Like a polar bear?"

“Bears are cool,” Chanyeol shrugs. “Sure, like a polar bear.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth, before deciding against saying anything, and he looks down through the holes in the grating.

“What?” Chanyeol asks, giving him a small nudge.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you were about to.”

“It’s not important,” Baekhyun shakes his head. His curiosity isn’t worth satisfying.

Chanyeol puts a hand on his blanket-covered arm, “Hey, you can talk to me.”

His gaze is serious and genuine, but Baekhyun still replies, “I don’t know, can I though?”

Chanyeol sits up straighter. He knows where he’s going with this. “You don’t think I talk much, huh?”

“No,” Baekhyun slowly corrects him, “you talk a lot. Just not anything of importance.” His voice is gentle even if his words are not, and Chanyeol stays silent. “I just mean, you avoid talking about yourself. You drop by unexpectedly and I never ask questions. I don't even know what happened that night we met. I know nothing about you, and it’s been, what, six, seven months?"

Chanyeol takes another pull of his cigarette, absorbed in the bright-orange burning against the dark of the night. “I don’t know much about you either,” he says.

“Well, that’s not true," Baekhyun starts to count off on his fingers. "You know where I live, what I study and where. You know I want to be a trauma surgeon. You know Sehun. You also know my likes and dislikes. You know I sleep at one AM every night, and that I like to listen to piano ballads when I’m studying.”

Chanyeol nods his head slowly, “Okay, true.” His disposition is different now, Baekhyun notices, with a more guarded tone and manner. “So, what do you want to know about me?” He flicks his lighter on, holding the flame up to relight the end of his cigarette as he inhales.

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun looks down at his socks, “anything. Everything.”

Chanyeol lets out a laugh, and Baekhyun almost flinches at the sound, “What, you want to know that I’m an only child? That I grew up in a house in the suburbs, and that I dropped out of high-school when I was sixteen?" His words and tone are slightly bitter, more than he expected, and Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows, pulling the blanket tighter around him subconsciously.

“I don’t talk about myself because I’m not anyone worth talking about. I fail everything and everyone. My parents, my grades, life.” He continues, “I don’t work a regular nine-to-five job. I only fight because I’m good at it. And I need to so I can get by in this shit world."

They fall into silence, letting it stretch between them for a while, with the occasional car driving by or pedestrian walking on the street below them. Chanyeol takes one last pull before stubbing the cigarette out on the metal gratings, flicking it over the railings as it falls to the ground. They’re three stories up, and Baekhyun waits for the tiny cigarette to hit concrete before he finally speaks.

He exhales, “With the injuries you get, I don’t think you can say you’re good at fighting.” He gives him a light smile to try and diffuse the tension, and Chanyeol stares at him for a moment before he breaks out into a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he hangs his head down. “I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I asked.” Baekhyun replies. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I want to, I do,” Chanyeol says. “But it’s hard when you’re the only one who doesn’t see the bad in me. You helped me out when you didn’t even know me, when I didn't want your help. When I was just a bloodied stranger. You practically save me every time I fuck part of my body up. You aren't afraid of helping me. I just want to keep it that way. Even for just a bit longer.”

Baekhyun smiles, “I understand. But you know, even if you tell me, I won't ever see the bad in you."

They hold gazes for a moment, before Baekhyun breaks their contact and he fluffs the blanket out around him. "Come on, let’s go inside," he rises to his feet, feeling the slight ache in his knees from crouching down for so long, “I’m freezing out here.” He knows the conversation is over, and for now, what Chanyeol has given him is enough.

Chanyeol wordlessly follows him inside, closing the window shut behind him. Baekhyun gives him a questioning expression, and he shrugs, “It’s okay for me to stay here tonight?”

“Of course,” Baekhyun answers, and he drapes the blanket on the armchair for him. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

“Well, it’s different when you’re awake,” he explains. “When I come in and you’re sleeping, I don’t want to disturb you just to let you know.”

“That is appreciated,” Baekhyun responds, recalling the numerous times he would wake up in the middle of the night to see Chanyeol asleep in his armchair. The first few times, he would quietly get out of bed and fetch a blanket from his wardrobe to cover him, before Baekhyun finally settled for just permanently leaving a blanket and pillow on the chair for him.

Chanyeol stands in front of him, reaching down for his hand and raising it to his mouth before pressing his lips to the side of his wrist. “Thank you, Baek.”

He pays attention to Chanyeol's features, eyes gentle and lips soft, when he mumbles out a soft, “Good night, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol chuckles and gently pinches Baekhyun’s nose before he turns around and settles into his makeshift bed.

The next morning, Baekhyun wakes up before eight AM. Like usual, Chanyeol is already gone.

/ / /

"He was here a few nights ago, right?"

Baekhyun whips his head up, glancing at Sehun. "What?"

"Your not-boyfriend."

"Oh. Yes, he was," Baekhyun rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, avoiding eye contact as he flips the page. It's nothing to be secretive about – Sehun had already given his permission ages ago, after the first time Chanyeol had stayed. As long as he slept in Baekhyun's room, just in case Sehun had a date over who he didn't want running into some red-headed, six-foot-two delinquent crashing on their couch.

"Not-boyfriend?" Minseok asks, and Sehun mimes being stabbed in his gut, face contorted in pain before the other nods in understanding, "Oh, Chanyeol. The gangster. Right."

"Yes, Chanyeol," Baekhyun mumbles, trying to focus on reading the magazine in front of him. They had told Minseok about their whole first encounter with him that next day, mainly because Sehun was slightly buzzing on the high of rescuing someone.

("You didn't save anyone," Baekhyun had narrowed his eyes on him. "In fact, you practically forced me to lock you in your room first chance you got, and didn't come out until morning."

"Hey, I helped bring him to the apartment, did I not?" Sehun countered, and Baekhyun unenthusiastically muttered out a, "Yes."

To which Sehun beamed, folding his arms over his puffed-out chest as he said, "See? We rescued someone.")

"Well, how is he?" Sehun prods, and Baekhyun shrugs, eyes still glued to his magazine.

"The same. He's fine."

"'Fine' meaning he's still a punching dummy walking around in human form?" Minseok offers a helpful image, and Sehun snickers. He's never met him, but Baekhyun keeps them both somewhat updated on Chanyeol – Sehun hearing more of these conversations – from time to time. Mainly because of the large presence he holds in Baekhyun's own life, as well as his somewhat part-time status as another roommate to Sehun. Not that Chanyeol ever steps foot out of his bedroom.

Baekhyun can't help but agree, "Basically."

"You are being careful though, right?" Sehun raises his eyebrows, looking up at him over his book as Baekhyun gives him a confused expression in response. "I mean, I don't want you getting too involved in this. He's not exactly the best influence. You don't even know him."

Baekhyun doesn't say anything. That much, is half true.

"Sehun's right," Minseok pipes in. "We know it's been quite a while now, but do you actually know what he does? Why he's always injured? He doesn't seem to be the best person for you to be around. Plus, his description alone scares me."

Baekhyun shakes his head. He knows his friends are being thoughtful, but their truth still stings, and he doesn't want to have this conversation.

They can tell, and Sehun drops his book, gaze softening, "Baek, you know we're not trying to upset you. We're just worried."

"We don't want you getting hurt."

Baekhyun tries to smile, if only to appease their concern.

/ / /

It wasn't a particularly long discussion, but Baekhyun can't forget it.  

Minseok and Sehun's words ring loud in his mind, and he's almost nervous to bring it up to Chanyeol. Especially considering the last time, and how well that turned out.

It's been almost two weeks since Baekhyun took the stitches out from his forehead. The scar is a deep pink blemish on his skin, but Chanyeol wears it proudly, not bothering to cover it up.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks from his position on the floor. He's leaning against the foot of Baekhyun's bed, his right leg folded in as he keeps his left one loosely crossed - his skin over his knee and shin is still healing.

Baekhyun raises his head, oblivious to the distant expression he's wearing. "What? Sorry, I zoned out."

Chanyeol just chuckles, "I asked what you're thinking about." He places a blue and green seven on top of the pile in between them, covering a yellow seven card from Baekhyun's hand.

"Oh, um," Baekhyun stalls, "well, I don't really want to bring it up." He puts a green skip card down first, watching Chanyeol's eyebrows furrow, before a green three. He cheekily holds up the remaining cards in his hand to show off, only three left compared to Chanyeol's eight.

Chanyeol twists his mouth, feigning a look of distress before whipping out a black draw-four card that he enthusiastically slaps down, "Red. Why not?"

"It... involves more talking," Baekhyun says, blankly pulling four more cards from the draw pile as he shuffles them around in his hand. He puts down a red six.

"Oh, right," Chanyeol lowers his UNO cards. "Well, how much talking do you mean?"

"A fair bit," Baekhyun tells the truth. "But you know, if you're not ready or don't want to, then it's fine. Just forget it." He adds, waving a hand to dismiss the whole thing when he sees the expression on Chanyeol's face.

Chanyeol bites his lower lip, rubbing at the back of his neck before exhaling deeply. "No, it's okay. We can talk." He adjusts his position, putting his cards down beside him as he unfolds his legs. "Just, I don't know, can you keep an open mind? And don't judge me too much. I, I don't know how you're going to react."

His expression displays something akin to unease, and Baekhyun assures him, "I promise."

"Okay," Chanyeol breathes once he's satisfied. "Shoot."

Baekhyun purses his lips, also choosing to shift as he brings his knees up to his chest. "Well," he starts, unsure of how to begin. "What exactly do you do?"

"What do I do?" Chanyeol repeats with a slight chuckle. "Like, in my free time?"

"No, I mean, job-wise," he explains himself. "Do you, have one?" He's careful with his words and tone. After all, this is new territory.

Chanyeol slowly nods, "Yes, I have a job. Sort of. It's more of a contract."

"A contract?" It's Baekhyun's turn to repeat for more clarification.

"It's a long story," Chanyeol nervously laughs. Baekhyun simply looks at his phone beside him, screen showing 11:37 PM.

"I've got time."

Chanyeol asks, "You really want to know, huh?", and Baekhyun hums his agreement. "Wow, didn't think a game of UNO could turn so intense."

"You obviously forgot the time you dealt me three draw-two cards at the same time. Now stop wasting time."

"Okay, okay," Chanyeol half-laughs, holding up his hands. "It's hard to explain, but I'll try."

Baekhyun hugs his knees tighter in anticipation.

He describes it cautiously, keeping his concentration on Baekhyun's reaction.

"As you know, I get into a lot of fights. The job is that, I do it for people. A certain type of people, with power. I do their dirty work, if I had to put it bluntly." It's when Baekhyun's eyes widen with unveiled apprehension that Chanyeol quickly corrects himself. "I don't kill anyone. Just sort of, mess them up a bit. Get their debts they owe. I'm usually good at this, but sometimes the people that I'm supposed to collect from have their own security. Hence..."

He trails off, gesturing to his entire body.

"So, you're a henchman? Or a violent debt collector," Baekhyun deadpans. Despite his expressionless face, his mind is in overdrive. It's a lot to take in, and he tries to hide his partial discomfort at this reveal.

"I prefer the term 'contracted helper'," he corrects.

"So, the first night I met you-" Baekhyun starts, and Chanyeol cuts in.

"That was someone who owed my employer a lot of money. Didn't think he'd arm himself with a knife to be honest. He's generally quite a coward," Chanyeol runs his hand over the left side of his abdomen, recalling his scar.

"And now?"

"Money is collected, and he's not a concern. He is alive, don't worry." Chanyeol adds on.

Baekhyun's half-satisfied curiosity forces him to ask another question, "And how exactly did you even get into this?"

Chanyeol then takes a deep breath, a nervous smile on his face when he says, "I was a teenager who got in with the wrong crowd. I made stupid mistakes, and now I'm contracted to work it off."

"That makes it sound like you have your own debt hanging over your head." Baekhyun points out, and Chanyeol doesn't disagree.

"Something like that."

“And so, if it’s a contract… how long do you have left?”

Chanyeol purses his lips, “A while.”

Baekhyun chooses not to reply to that, instead playing with the ends of his sleeves as shrinks his hands back into his hoodie. It's not the worst-case scenario he could have dreamt up, but Baekhyun is still obviously shocked. From the first night they met, Baekhyun always had a suspicion that his dealings stumbled onto the shiftier side of things, but it's different when Chanyeol confirms his reservations. It makes it real; a truth that Baekhyun can't pretend doesn't exist.

"Have I upset you? Or, scared you?" Chanyeol is gentle when he asks, and surprisingly, when Baekhyun looks up, he shakes his head.

"Neither."

“Really?” Chanyeol is pleasantly surprised, and Baekhyun drops his knees as he sits cross-legged.

“I thought it would. And honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting you to tell me. But I’m not afraid. I don't know if that's brave or stupid." He gives a nervous laugh.

"Hey," Chanyeol says softly, reaching over to tip Baekhyun's chin up. "If I'm truthful, it's probably a bit of both. But I'm glad you're not scared."

"I don't think I could be scared of you," Baekhyun claims. "I know I've never seen you fight, but to me, you're just a giant mushroom who needs to be protected."

Chanyeol widens his eyes, a finger directed at his own chest, "Mushroom? Protected? Me?"

"You know, you're soft and spongy," Baekhyun pokes a finger into his cheek, "with red, fluffed hair. Mushroom."

Chanyeol laughs almost incredulously before he turns his torso slightly, rolling up his sleeve to show off his arm, defined and flexed. His bear tattoo is displayed prominently right where his shoulder meets his bicep. The soft black curves are clear against his skin, and it's one of Baekhyun's favourites, mostly for its simplicity and roundness of the design. But he is spoiled for choice with the selection of tattoos that decorate Chanyeol's body. "Have you not seen these?"

Baekhyun hides his flushing cheeks with a roll of his eyes and a look of disregard, "Yes, yes, I have seen your muscles many times, you know, when you've fucked them up and I've had to patch you up?"

"Scratches don't cancel out how hard and toned they are," Chanyeol utters, pressing his lips to his bicep and grinning.

"Never do that in front of me again," Baekhyun pulls a face, trying to muffle the chuckles rising out of his throat.

Chanyeol pulls his sleeve back down, shrugging, as he mumbles, "I guess some people don't appreciate good art when it's sitting right in front of them."

Baekhyun can't help but laugh at that, picking up his hand of UNO cards as he throws them at him, the cards scattering over his body, "I don't think you realize the stupidity that comes out of your mouth sometimes."

"Well, we can't all be doctors," he jokes. Then he steels his tone. "Is it my turn now?"

Baekhyun shoots him a quizzical expression, "What do you mean?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Um, what do you want to ask me?"

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, "Why do you help me? I mean, I know I’m the one who climbs up the fire escape, but you could just turn me away. You could have the second time I came by. And the third, and the fourth, and so on.”

Baekhyun blanks, not expecting this. He breaks their eye contact, choosing to stare at the carpet as he draws patterns in the threads with his fingers, "I don't know. I like helping people. You're people."

"Sure," Chanyeol nods in agreement, "but I don't see any other strangers at your window asking to be nursed."

"Well, I don't operate a clinic out of my bedroom," Baekhyun is brazen.

Chanyeol doesn't laugh, keeping his gaze sincere. "I mean, I'm the only one you treat. Why? Why me? Why do you still help me?"

Baekhyun shrugs, feeling the need to break the atmosphere with an awkward chuckle. It's gotten too serious, too inquisitive for his liking. He rises to his feet and starts to pace around the room, just so he doesn't feel so exposed under Chanyeol's gaze. "For practice?" He jokes, and Chanyeol just scrutinizes him.

Baekhyun rubs a hand down his face, exhaling deeply, "Can we not talk about this?" It makes him want to keep laughing, just because his heart is beating too fast and loud for him to think, and giggling seems better than revealing the truth. It's an automatic setting, to try and laugh his way out of a situation, as if it'll lighten the steadily-tensing ambience.

"Why?" Chanyeol inquires, straightening up as pushes off the floor to stand up.

"It's just awkward to talk about," Baekhyun chooses to dither, continuing to walk in a circle as Chanyeol regards him from beside the bed.

"I told you my truth. You can tell me yours."

Baekhyun has stopped by his window, putting his sweater paws over his face to avoid looking at him. He doesn't remove his hands when he finally says, "I don't know. I want to take care of you. I don't like you being hurt all the time. I like being around you, I guess. I like you."

It's silent in the room, and Baekhyun almost wants to uncover his eyes to see what's happening, until he feels Chanyeol's fingers around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. He looks up at him, shrinking in slightly because Chanyeol has never been this close before, this serious and intense.

"You like me?"

"Y-yeah, I like you. I like Sehun, and Minseok. I like medicine. I like university. I like that coffee at that one shop around the corner, awesome bean juice. You know, things. I like things. Things are great." Baekhyun blathers, if only to cover up his beating heart.

"We both know you don't mean it like that," Chanyeol responds, his voice a deep, soothing comfort.

"Well, I'm sorry?" Baekhyun almost squeaks. Chanyeol still hasn't let go of his wrists.

He chuckles softly, "What are you sorry about?"

"I don't know. That I like you? I know you don't feel the same way, and I know this probably will change everything, which is why I didn't want to tell you. I don't even know why but I just do, and I just want to protect you, because you do stupid things like get yourself hurt. But I know you won't stop, so I just want to make sure you're not in pain. Even if I can just help a bit."

"Baekhyun."

He stops his chattering, letting blond strands fall in front of his eyes when he glances up. "Yes?"

"Stop talking for a second."

"Okay."

It's loud in his ears, when Chanyeol finally presses his lips to Baekhyun's. It’s as if there’s too much noise and at the same time, none at all. Baekhyun thinks he’s floating with how light and feathery he feels, soaking in the comforting warmth of Chanyeol’s plush lips against his and the heat of his palm curling around the back of his neck.

Chanyeol kisses him with a gentle firmness, and Baekhyun thrives in it, letting their lips brush against each other’s with brimming pleasure.

They break apart when they both need air, Baekhyun almost nervous as he toys with his bottom lip, chest rising and falling noticeably.

Chanyeol’s eyes are dark and blown, and he blinks for a moment before stepping back.

"I have to go," he says, avoiding eye contact with Baekhyun. He doesn’t wait for a response before he’s immediately out through the window, disappearing down the fire escape.

/ / /

Seven weeks go by.

Baekhyun’s window remains unlocked in case Chanyeol decides to visit.

He never does.

Sometimes Baekhyun crawls out onto the fire escape, huddled in extra layers as he peeks down the street to see if he can get a glimpse of a figure resembling Chanyeol. Hours will go by, and his face falls at the lack of an appearance.

There is no number to text or call, considering they never exchanged contacts, and it’s only during this prolonged absence does Baekhyun realize he isn’t even sure if he would want to.

He starts his fifth-year as a medical student two weeks into the absence.

He doesn't cry, but settles for staying awake past one AM, letting his heartache and anguish wash over him. The yearning wraps him up in its clutches, whispering sorrowful thoughts into his ear when he doesn't hear his window open, or the familiarity of Chanyeol's laugh. Baekhyun ends up falling asleep way too late for his schedule and waking up with red, tired eyes and a hole in his chest.

Despite that, he tries not to let it affect his work, even savouring the thought in the later weeks when he recognizes he has more time to study and see his friends. He doesn’t know if it’s more so Chanyeol’s sudden disappearance, or that his absence immediately followed their kiss, that pains him more.

It’s near the end of the fourth week when Baekhyun packs the blanket and pillow that he leaves out for Chanyeol away at the bottom of his wardrobe.

Two weeks after that, he finally locks his window for the first time in ten months.

Minseok and Sehun prod at him, but Baekhyun keeps up his bright facade. It honestly shouldn't affect him this much. Chanyeol isn't his boyfriend, and Baekhyun doesn't know if he could even classify him as a friend. Whilst it had only been in the last few months that they opened up to one another more, the majority of their relationship was superficial at best; Chanyeol dropping by at odd hours of the day and night doesn't make them friends. Even if Baekhyun felt that way.

It's easier to shove his feelings aside and move on. Maybe for the best anyways. Baekhyun doesn't need to fret over stocking up his first-aid pouch, or rush through his studying just in case Chanyeol has a serious injury that needs treating which will eat into his revision time.

With a clearer schedule and somewhat of a freer mind, Baekhyun is the one who suggests to Minseok and Sehun that he could do with a night out.

They obviously don't disagree.

/

"This place is loud," Baekhyun scrunches his nose up, and Sehun rolls his eyes, dragging him by the arm as they head towards the door.

"Come on, we're already here," he groans, and Baekhyun hesitantly pulls out his ID to show the bouncer first.

Minseok follows, and then Sehun, who flashes a big smile at the guy. The bouncer keeps a blank face, eyes darting from the photo on his ID to the student in front of him, before shrugging and letting them all through.

"You know you make it more awkward than it needs to be," Minseok comments, and Sehun pulls a face.

"It never hurts to be safe. I get carded more than either of you."

Minseok and Baekhyun share a grin.

It's not too busy for a Thursday night, and Baekhyun feels a comfort wash over him when they manage to find a free space at the bar. It's his first time at this establishment, and he seats himself in between his friends. It's Sehun who gets the bartender's attention, ordering them rum and cokes because it's the easiest thing.

An hour later and they're all pleasantly buzzed and separated around the room. Minseok is in the welcoming embrace of a few girls at a table, and Sehun is being Sehun, choosing to dance his insobriety out.

That leaves Baekhyun to enjoy his tipsiness at the bar, head slightly bobbing along to the music as he crowd-watches. He's making some conversation with the bartender, a twenty-year old who also attends his university, but in her second year taking physics.

"Your friend is cute," she says, and Baekhyun gives her a consoling smile.

"Sorry, but he's gay too." He turns his head to watch Sehun over his shoulder, who is dancing with everyone and no one at the same time. He's an inscrutable one, that Sehun.

"Oh well," she shrugs, filling up a glass with coke from the tap before sticking in a lemon slice and accompanying straw and placing it on the counter for a customer a few seats down from Baekhyun.

He just sips at his drink.

"So, just out with friends tonight?" She asks. The night is still early at ten PM, but the crowd is slightly thinning out, and Baekhyun makes for good conversation when she has no drinks to pour or duties to attend to. "No boyfriend?"

"Nope," Baekhyun shakes his head. "No boyfriend."

She gives him a wide smile, her eyes darting to the side momentarily when she says, "That might change soon enough." And then she's called over to someone else for an order.

Seconds later, he hears a cough at his side.

"Well, now I don't have to ask you myself."

Baekhyun turns his head, eyes falling on an attractive male with light hair swept back, and a charming smile. He quickly surveys his immediate surroundings before noting that the man is most definitely looking at him, and he stops biting on the end of his straw to look somewhat sophisticated.

"Ask me what?" Baekhyun inquires, straightening up in his seat.

"Whether or not you're taken."

"And why would you be interested in that information?" It's not like Baekhyun doesn't know how to flirt, and the liquor in him helps.

"I'm sure someone as attractive as yourself can come to that conclusion without any help." The stranger's voice is light and smooth, and it reminds Baekhyun of melted butter. It's nice to hear, and he smiles when he replies.

"Already dropping compliments, I see. Are we just going to skip all the small talk and pleasantries?"

The male chuckles, running a hand through his hair, "No point when I know what I want. I'm Lu Han," he holds a hand out, and Baekhyun takes it without much thought.

"Baekhyun," he says in return.

"Nice name for an even nicer face," Lu Han comments, and Baekhyun does slightly blush at that. His love life hasn't exactly been brimming with action lately (and he can’t even count Chanyeol), but he's had past boyfriends, and the odd date here and there that sometimes would toe past actual dating in favour for sex.

"That may be true, but flattery still won't get you anywhere," he says, now turned fully in his seat as he regards Lu Han fully. He is very easy on the eyes, with plush lips, a symmetrical face, and enticing eyes.

Lu Han shrugs, commenting, "Guess I'll have to try something else then," before narrowing the space between them, sliding a hand lower around Baekhyun's waist.

Baekhyun isn't too tipsy that he doesn't realize what's happening, and he squirms slightly out of his grip, "That's a bit too forward."

Lu Han holds his hands up in mock surrender, "Okay, okay. But if we're getting out of here, I'm going to end up touching you anyways."

"Excuse me?" Baekhyun blinks, requesting clarification. He's sure he must have misheard him.

Lu Han grins only, leaning over to whisper in a seductive tone, "Come on now, don't tell me you're shy?"

That's when Baekhyun can smell just how much alcohol he's had, and he immediately shuts off. He is no longer flirty or curious. He's disturbed. It's upsetting, that the first guy since Chanyeol – if Chanyeol really does count, which Baekhyun still half-considers and half-doesn't – is his own flavour of Pushy Douchebag.

Lu Han speaks again, brow furrowing slightly when he senses Baekhyun is no longer interested or playing into his game, "Don't you want to come back to mine?"

Baekhyun slides off his seat slowly to increase the space between them as he takes a step back. "Not at all. Thank you for your offer," he murmurs when he smooths down his shirt, "but I'm going to pass. Hard." He decides it's time to find Minseok and Sehun, and he nods curtly in goodbye before striding off.

But Lu Han clearly doesn't handle rejection all too well, and it's obvious when he slides his fingers around Baekhyun's wrist to pull him back.

"Hey, come on, you can't walk away from me."

"Let me go, please," Baekhyun is firm, trying to loosen his grip on his arm. The look in Lu Han's eyes are unnerving, and despite the people in their proximity, Baekhyun doesn't feel any safer.

"Well, don't tell me that this doesn't want anything," He slides his hand down, cupping Baekhyun's crotch and squeezing considerably.

It's automatic when Baekhyun shoves him back as hard as he can. "Get the fuck off me," he spits, sweat starting on the sides of his neck as he takes a deep breath.

Lu Han seems simultaneously amused and severely offended, and Baekhyun isn't sure what he can do in this circumstance, besides start yelling for attention. Even in a public space like this, everyone is attentive to their own situations. With the darker lighting, later hours, and strong correlation of increasing alcohol intake to decreasing perception of the surroundings, it's not as if many people are paying attention.

But then his options are ripped from him, when Lu Han is suddenly pulled away and spun around. Seconds later and he's flat on his back, colliding hard onto the floor as people in immediate proximity (finally) turn their consideration to the scene. It's loud, when Lu Han spits out blood and yells, "What the fuck?" as he raises himself up onto his elbows.

Baekhyun stares at Chanyeol, who glances at him briefly before he's on top of Lu Han, landing another fist in the middle of his face. He hears the sound of bone hitting bone, and winces at the sight, shaking himself out of his stupor.

No one else dares step closer to the scene, and Baekhyun catches movement out of the corner of his eye, when the female bartender he conversed with earlier attempts to call security. While extra protection would have been much appreciated minutes ago, and Baekhyun would normally welcome the presence of anyone else, he knows this won't end well. He sees Minseok and Sehun make their way towards the brawl, which finally pushes him to do something.

His legs are moving before he can stop them, shouting at Chanyeol who seems very intent on disfiguring Lu Han's face permanently, with the latter getting a swing in here and there as they scuffle on the floor.

"Chanyeol, Chanyeol, stop!" Baekhyun pleads, trying to grab his arm so he can cease throwing punches.

He's angry, and it's the first time Baekhyun has ever seen Chanyeol convey this emotion, let alone what it looks like in action.

Baekhyun is scared.

But Chanyeol isn't listening, especially with Lu Han landing blows of his own on Chanyeol’s face.

It's not the best solution, when Baekhyun does the only thing he can think of, standing behind the two of them as he tries pull Chanyeol off Lu Han. A mistimed movement, and Chanyeol's elbow strikes the side of Baekhyun's jaw, knocking him back as he lands harshly on the ground, banging his head against the wood of the floor.

Baekhyun is dazed, never having been on the receiving end of a blow. All at once, Minseok and Sehun are at his side, helping him up to his feet.

"Baekhyun, are you okay?" Minseok asks, voice full of unbridled concern. He slowly nods his head, glancing up to see Chanyeol has finally stopped, his right fist dripping blood as he stands in front of them. He's careful with his gaze, the ire in his expression replaced with apprehension when he looks at Baekhyun. Lu Han struggles to his feet behind him.

"We should leave," Sehun remarks, eyes darting from the watching crowd to several security guards making their way towards them. Baekhyun agrees, and his friends help him out of the bar, as he mumbles some sort of comment about Chanyeol.

Neither Minseok or Sehun hear him, and they hail down a taxi. While waiting, he can vaguely hear Sehun say something to the bouncer who remained at the front door about letting in certain riffraff and how he should do a better job.

It's a quiet ride, with his friends taking turns asking a question here or there about what happened. Baekhyun's response to the majority of them fall under, "I don't know." Especially when they prod about Chanyeol, because that's still a blur to Baekhyun himself. He explains what he can recall about Lu Han until they reach their apartment, speaking softly.

Minseok pays the taxi driver as Baekhyun slowly walks with Sehun to the building door. His headache hits him suddenly, and he faintly stumbles when his body starts to feel slow, the lethargy almost overwhelming. His face is still in pain, and he raises a hand to feel over his chin, his fingers coming away with blood.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sehun asks again, and Baekhyun murmurs some affirmation out. He just needs to get upstairs. Minseok catches up when Sehun holds his fob up to the keypad. The lock unlatches and he pulls the door open.

"Baekhyun."

Chanyeol's voice forces all three of them to turn around. He's heavily out of breath, and Baekhyun takes a moment before making a shaky step towards him, much to Sehun's reluctance when he tightens his hold on his upper arm.

"It's okay," Baekhyun assures both his friends. "I'll be upstairs in a bit. Let me talk to him first."

Sehun shoots him a look of concern anyways with his eyebrows raised, despite Baekhyun's words.

"Let's go, Sehun. Baekhyun needs his privacy." Minseok steers him as quick as he can into the building, considering the other doesn't bother to hide his objection with a fierce glare at Chanyeol, and Baekhyun gives Minseok a grateful smile. He waits until the door is shut and they're out of sight before he turns back to Chanyeol.

"Baekhyun, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Chanyeol is suddenly at his side, closing the few metres between them in no time. He lets Chanyeol tip his jaw up for a moment to glance at his injury, before shirking from his touch.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He asks. He holds his stare despite the defeat in his voice and features. He's too tired to fight with the ache in his head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were standing behind me, I’m so sorry I hit you.” Seeing Chanyeol so unravelled and worried for the first time is new, and he would be lying if he didn’t admit it tugged on his heart, just that little bit.

But that isn’t enough to take back the past two months.

“I don’t care that you hit me. I care that you nearly beat that guy into a pulp! I care that you fucking disappeared for months without any word. I care that you left.” Baekhyun is livid, his words a sharp reminder of Chanyeol’s actions as they’re fired at him.

"I'm sorry for all that too."

“I don’t want your apology, Chanyeol. You have no right getting involved in my business. That was my situation to solve.”

He scoffs at this however, “He fucking assaulted you, Baekhyun.”

“And what makes you think that what you did was any better? You got into another fight again, and for what? You almost pulverized the guy. It’s got nothing to do you with you, do you understand? This is my life.”

“And what would you have done?” Chanyeol challenges him, tilting his chin up. “That guy is sick and deserved it.”

Baekhyun exhales loudly, speaking harshly, “I am not yours to save. You are not the judge, jury, and executioner of my problems. You do not leave for months and then intrude into my life however you like."

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol begins, “I couldn’t not help. As soon as I saw it, what he did, he made me so angry I just wanted – I just needed – to protect you."

"That is not protecting me," Baekhyun speaks firmly. "Do you not think before you act? What would have happened if I didn't try to stop you? Would you have kept going? What if you hadn't stopped by the time security got to you? You could have gotten into even more trouble. You could have killed him."

Chanyeol clenches his fist at his side, replying with a muted tone, "I know." His knuckles are completely red, skin ripped at the bone as blood threatens to drip down onto the pavement.

"You don't think of the consequences."

Baekhyun isn't just speaking about tonight.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Baekhyun,” he shrinks in slightly, eyes trained on the ground between them. "I know I handled things badly. I just, I didn't know what to do."

"And being a decent fucking human being never crossed your mind?"

Chanyeol rubs his hands down his face before harshly running fingers through his hair. Of all people, Baekhyun matches his exasperation. "I'm so fucking sorry. I know what I did was shit, just leaving like that and not coming by. I should have explained myself. I told you, I'm a failure. I didn't want to get close to you, because I knew this would happen."

"You knew what would happen?" Baekhyun interrupts.

"This. That I would get attached too much. I'm too fucked up for that, my life and my job."

Baekhyun almost laughs in disbelief, "That's a shitty excuse. Don't play the victim card. You left because you made a mistake. It's fine, I'm a mistake. You don't want to be friends anymore? Whatever. Just don't be a coward about it."

"No, you're not listening, Baekhyun. How can someone like me be with someone like you?"

Baekhyun physically flinches, recoiling at the words. It's not the way Chanyeol meant, with how Baekhyun understands his question. Even though he doesn't see Chanyeol as a failure or fuck-up, but as someone he wants to save, it seems Chanyeol doesn't want him in his life.

He regrets, and Baekhyun isn't good enough.

"I see," he looks to the ground, shutting his eyes tight to avoid tears.

"Wait, Baek, that's not what I mea-"

"No,” Baekhyun growls when he cuts him off. “I don’t care. I’m done.”

“Wait, please.” The desperation creeps into Chanyeol’s voice, but he remains unwavering. Chanyeol reaches a hand out but Baekhyun flinches drastically, taking a step back.

"No. You were right. I don't know you. You're just some psycho lackey."

Chanyeol can see a flicker of fear in Baekhyun's eyes, and he feels the air instantaneously get sucked out of him, suffocating his insides for the oxygen they need. It's hard to breathe, with Baekhyun's glare of revulsion.

Baekhyun drops his gaze, “I’m done. Leave me alone.”

It's all Chanyeol can do to watch as Baekhyun turns on his heel and slips into the apartment building, the ache in his own chest ripping him apart more than the pain from his body. 

It's ironic when he feels the first snowflake land on his cheek, melting instantaneously. He looks up to the November black sky with the flurries snowing down around him, as his words float into the night air and vanish into nothing. It's too late, but he speaks them loud anyways.

"You're not a mistake."

/ / /

New year, new me.

That's been Baekhyun's motto for the past seven days – the first seven days of January.

He hasn't seen Chanyeol since that day outside his apartment. Baekhyun had come upstairs to see Minseok and Sehun waiting in the living room and promptly burst into tears.

It had been hard to clean up the cut on his chin through watery eyes and a mirror, until Minseok snatched the cotton bud from his hand and did the rest for him.

Sleeping that night had been difficult, and not for the fact that he was bunking on the loveseat as Minseok and Sehun took the couch and floor respectively. It was a spontaneous sleepover, where Baekhyun let out his feelings and his friends absorbed his stories and cries like comfort sponges. His headache did not assuage matters either, with the mild throbbing keeping the thoughts running through his mind alive.

The next day Baekhyun had shook off his despair. It was easier the second-time round, when he had the practice from before. Immersing himself in his studies with his confrontation with Chanyeol behind him, Baekhyun wanted to forget it all. It worked for the most part, when Chanyeol’s absence no longer stung so hard in his chest.

As his final action of closure, Baekhyun had left his first-aid pouch on his fire escape, fitting it snugly into the crevice between the window sill and metal grating so it didn’t blow away with the weather. He told himself he no longer needed it for Chanyeol, and even though Baekhyun wanted to be indifferent about it, he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t care for his wellbeing.

Exams provided a good distraction, stealing him out of his room where his memories of Chanyeol loitered, swirling around every inch and crevice where Baekhyun swore he could still hear his voice. The library turned into his desk (and bedroom for quick naps), where he could lose track of time in his textbooks and notes to get through the clinical-free days.

It was a relief, heading home to his parents' house for Christmas break. There, Baekhyun had no reminders about Chanyeol. There was nothing Chanyeol had touched, slept on, laughed at, that he could associate with him. It was a well-deserved break for two weeks. Even if it didn't feel like it, Baekhyun pushed any still-lingering thoughts aside in favour of food and family company.

Once he was back in the city, it was as if Chanyeol never existed. The time away from his apartment and bedroom had cleared his head enough, putting both space and time between them. He didn’t even think to check on the first-aid pouch outside his window. If he did, he would have seen it was no longer there.

And even though Baekhyun could finally, finally breathe again, he didn’t want to admit that he preferred the feeling of being smothered.

/ / /

Baekhyun looks at the time on his computer, almost balking at the numbers in the top right-hand corner of his screen. He rises in his chair, taking a quick peek around at any remaining students in the library.

It's almost sad that he's the only one left on the floor, and he takes that as a sign to pack up and head home. Despite being back into the swing of the semester, he's accustomed to the feel of the library, generally spending hours there as a stopover before finally returning to his apartment.

He gathers his things into his bag before pushing his chair in under the table. He's spotlighted by the fluorescents above him, and he crosses into the darkness of the library as the motion-sensor lights activate and illuminate his path. The elevator ride doesn't take long, and soon enough Baekhyun is standing outside the building. 

It's a good thing he's wearing his winter coat, bundled in its thick fabric as he pulls his beanie down over his ears. He walks briskly through campus, with his earphones in as he clenches his fists deep in his pockets to withstand the cold. There are some remnants of snow decorated around the city, soiled with leaves and dirt near lampposts and piled up next to curbs.

The train doesn't run this late, and Baekhyun sighs, knowing he's got to walk a decent number of blocks to catch the night bus that comes less frequent than convenience would prefer. It's a winding walk that passes through back streets and alleys, and since he takes them as his regular commute during the day, Baekhyun doesn't think twice considering the time of night. 

With the cold on his cheeks and lateness of the hour, his mind blanks and he allows his feet to habitually carry him down the alleyway past a large warehouse. The night falls silent once he crosses between buildings, with the faint noise of a dog barking or car alarm going off blocks away.

With his earphones, Baekhyun lets his music cloud his judgement.

Which is why he's too slow to respond when he suddenly finds himself being yanked back by his bag, almost toppling to the ground as two men emerge from the shadows.

His earphones fall out, and he hastily grabs at the cord to pull them back up as he shuffles backwards from the strangers. Their stares are menacing, especially with the smirks on their faces intimidating Baekhyun just as much as their towering height. Their features are all angled and sharp, and they both bear proof of prior altercations and brawls in the form of scars and cuts.

The brunet holds his hand out, a look of exhaustion in his features when he says wearily, "Okay, hand it over."

He's obviously expecting Baekhyun to be more than accommodating in this scenario, and the brunet rolls his eyes and glances at his blond partner when Baekhyun stays frozen. "He's not making this easy for himself, is he?"

The blond chuckles, stretching his arms above his head when he directs his gaze to Baekhyun. His voice is slightly raspier than his partner's when he speaks, "You seem like a smart guy. Just give us your shit and we'll go. No trouble."

"Give you what?" Baekhyun repeats, mainly because he doesn't know to process this situation, and he needs some time for his brain to kick into gear. It's not like he's ever been mugged before.

"Huh, maybe he's not so smart," the brunet pulls a face. "Looks like you can't judge a book by its cover after all."

He takes a step forward towards Baekhyun, who immediately shuffles back again, a hand flying up to the strap of his bag as he grips it tightly. He keeps backing up slowly, trying to distance himself from them while he thinks of something, anything that can get him out of this situation.

"You don't think he's going to run, do you?" The blond raises an eyebrow.

And that's when Baekhyun takes off, speeding back down the way he came as the adrenaline and fear courses through him. It's not nearly enough distance covered, however, when he's suddenly lifted off his feet, flying backwards as he lands hard and flat on his back onto the ground. The books in his bag dig harshly into his spine, and he groans through the ache. Cracking an eye open, he sees the brunet's features come into view as he crouches down over him and blocks out the light from the nearest streetlamp.

"You really shouldn't run," the brunet says simply, examining his hand slowly when he clenches his fingers. That's when he raises his arm back and lands his fist straight into Baekhyun's face.

It's a little blurry after that, when Baekhyun tries not to concentrate on the shooting pain in his cheek and jaw, and the taste of blood from his split lips. A pair of arms lifts him up to his feet, and he feels his back hit the brick wall, his bag slipping off to the ground beforehand.

The brunet keeps his forearm pressed against Baekhyun's throat, and the unyielding pressure feels like its crushing his windpipe as he struggles to breathe. He tries kicking but his foot only meets air, and clawing at the brunet's arm does little damage.

All he can do is watch as the blond sifts through his backpack, throwing his textbook out over his shoulder. He almost wants to cry at the sight of the melted snow from the ground soaking into the pages and bleeding the ink, and he mentally berates himself for even thinking about the cost of the textbook, considering the all-too-major threat to his safety at the present moment.

"Looks like this one is studying to be a doctor. That doesn't seem to help with street smarts, does it?" The blond gives a smirk of annoyance, kicking Baekhyun's bag over when he doesn't find anything worth keeping. “Don’t you know better than to walk alone down alleyways at dark?”

"Alright, time to empty your pockets," the brunet sighs, releasing his arm from Baekhyun's throat.

It's not the best decision he could have made in hindsight, but Baekhyun obviously doesn't think clearly in the face of danger. It's an attempt at least, when he tries to throw a punch of his own, except he's too slow and the brunet dodges his fist, grabbing his forearm mid-air before striking a hard blow into his abdomen.

The pain is immediate when he doubles over, clutching at his stomach as the air is caught in his throat. It takes a moment for him to breathe normally again, and he feels the discomfort sitting in his torso.

"Poor kid," the blond says, "living in the city, you should know better."

Baekhyun really shouldn't rile them up anymore, but he finds himself spitting out a weak, "Fuck you," in response when he straightens up, staggering slightly as he does so. He can't help being so tenacious, especially when he isn't exactly thrilled to be used as their personal punching bag.

"You don't seem like a fighter," the brunet says, one finger tapping his bottom lip as he regards Baekhyun. "Not a good one, anyways."

"I'm not trying to fight you," Baekhyun says, a slight tremble to his lilt because this is the most petrified that he's ever been in his life. "I just want to go home."

The hoodlums look at one another, before the blond shrugs. He steps forward, leaning down so he's eye level with Baekhyun, "You could have been home already if you just followed what we said."

"I don't listen to gangsters," Baekhyun narrows his eyes, the pain subsiding in his abdomen as he drops his arms to his side. He clenches his fists automatically, trying to put on a brave facade.

The blond seems to notice, eyes dropping to Baekhyun's hands, and he chuckles sarcastically, "You're really not the brightest guy around, are you? Were our previous lessons a little too easy for you? Or do you need another reminder?"

He cocks his head, a smarmy grin on his face when he raises his arm. Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight, preparing himself for whatever agony he's about to feel, when he hears him.

"Get the fuck away."

It's automatic, when his heart stops so suddenly in his ribcage that it almost has Baekhyun breathless and craving air. His blood freezes in place, preventing him from inhaling the oxygen he needs.

Baekhyun would recognize his voice anywhere.

The two men take a step back to regard Chanyeol, standing meters away in the shadows. They squint until he walks into view, revealing darkened eyes and flaring nostrils.

It's overwhelming, to say the least, when every sensation from bliss to heartache to frustration rushes back into Baekhyun so abruptly that he can no longer tell them apart. Of all the ways that he predicted this conflict to resolve, Chanyeol's appearance was not in any of them.

It's been too long. Too long without Chanyeol and yet at the same time, it doesn't feel like a day has passed now that he's standing there. It's aggravating, that Baekhyun's heart still yearns for him despite everything.

"Ah, Chanyeol," the brunet seems surprised to see him.

"Jongin. Zitao." He greets them bluntly.

The blond one – Jongin – juts his chin up at him. "Why are you here? We settled our debts with Jongdae, don’t you already know?”

Chanyeol doesn't look at Baekhyun when he walks closer towards them, stretching out his long legs before he stops a few feet in front of them.  

"I'm not here on Jongdae's behalf," he shrugs, keeping his hands in his pockets. Baekhyun still doesn't understand how he can only be wearing a plaid over-shirt and jacket for warmth, and he tucks that thought into the corner of his mind.

The alleyway isn't nearly as lit up as the main streets, but the faint light emanating from the streetlamp and the apartments above gives Baekhyun enough of a look at his face.

It's been nearly three months since he last saw him.

The scar on his forehead is barely noticeable, just a thin white line of marred skin that will permanently remain. He looks better than usual, boasting none of the usual tell-tale signs of his fights; his face is void of any bruising or cuts.

Baekhyun swallows. He knows that's about to change.

Zitao grins, "Well then, since this isn't about business, I can finally thank you for the present you gave me all those years ago." He tilts his head back to the side and pulls down the collar of his turtleneck, displaying a prominent scar running from his left earlobe down along his jaw until it reaches his clavicle.

Baekhyun muffles his gasp at the sight, recognizing how deep the cut must have been to leave such a disfigurement. It doesn't make it better knowing that Chanyeol was the one to mutilate his skin like that.

If Chanyeol notices Baekhyun's horror, he doesn't show it.

"I could say the same," he raises his eyebrows, patting over the right side of his chest as he regards Zitao. His knuckles are covered with handwrap, stretching around his palm and ending at his wrists. "You left quite a mark, yourself."

At this, Baekhyun is taken aback. That's an injury he doesn't know about, and even though it shouldn't, the secret of its existence stings slightly.

"Well, care to exchange gifts again?" Zitao poses the question, and Chanyeol keeps his stare and voice cold when he replies.

"Not particularly. Let him go, and we can leave it at that." He juts his chin out at Baekhyun, and Jongin and Zitao turn their attention back onto him.

"You're here for him?" Jongin asks, a look of fleeting contempt in his features.

Chanyeol keeps quiet, choosing to ignore his question. "Leave now."

Zitao taps a finger on his bottom lip, feigning a look of deliberation as he sidles back up to Baekhyun's side. He hasn't moved from his position against the wall, too afraid and confused to dare risk it.

Zitao slings an arm around Baekhyun's neck, pulling back his own jacket to reveal a switchblade peeking out of his pocket. He pulls it out and flicks it open, the metal glinting in the faint light overhead.

It's ice-cold on Baekhyun's skin, when Zitao holds it up to his throat. The fear roots him to the spot, and Baekhyun stills his breathing as much as he can to avoid whimpering out. His heartbeat intensifies rapidly as he feels the sweat materialize on his palms when Zitao presses the blade up against his Adam's apple with a wicked smile.

"I think I want to have some fun, actually."

Baekhyun can see Chanyeol clench his fists at his side. He's staring Zitao down, his eyes full of resentment and fury. Baekhyun knows he's holding back, and trying to gage the situation before he acts. After all, those were some of his own last words to Chanyeol.

“You don't think of the consequences."

Jongin has unsheathed his own weapon, a black extendable baton that he presents with too much glee that it's wildly unsettling. He regards Chanyeol somewhat dubiously, because the latter is simply standing there, almost prepared to fight but not making a move.

Then Chanyeol glimpses at Baekhyun, his gaze softening for a split second. It's when they finally make eye contact, for the first time in months, that Baekhyun starts to cry.

He's not expecting tears, but they roll down his cheeks anyways.

And that's when Chanyeol loses it.

It's abrupt, when he closes the gap between him and Jongin. He throws an uppercut into his abdomen, sinking his fist deep into his torso before smacking his arm down onto his hand. From the force, Jongin drops the baton, and he grunts out, throwing a jab at Chanyeol's face with irritation.

Chanyeol manages to dodge it before Jongin rams his shoulder into Chanyeol's stomach, and they stumble back.

Baekhyun can't help but flinch at every punch and hit, watching the scene unfold with unbridled distress and apprehension. It's not the first time he's seen Chanyeol brawl like this, but it's a different atmosphere compared to that night at the bar, when pure anger filled him to the point of senselessly beating Lu Han bloody.

Here, he is calculated and driven.

He slams the side of his hand down on the back of Jongin’s neck, taking the chance once they're broken apart to grab onto the back of his jacket, harshly pulling him forward as he flips Jongin onto his back.

If the entire situation weren't so disconcerting, Baekhyun would find that impressive.

It's a solid loud sound, when Jongin lands on the ground. Despite his groaning, he rolls over quick enough before Chanyeol can hit him again, rising to his feet. He keeps his stance low and grounded, and Chanyeol mirrors his position. They're wary of one another, and Chanyeol chances a glimpse at Baekhyun.

Zitao has remained oddly quiet throughout their confrontation, but once he sees Chanyeol's attention drift, he grins. Baekhyun can feel the cool, sharp edge of the metal shift as the blade hovers over his cheek, and Zitao presses in harshly until it splits his skin.

It's not a searing pain, but it hurts nonetheless, and Baekhyun winces audibly as Zitao runs the blade across his cheek until the blood instantaneously appears and runs in drops down his face.

Chanyeol growls, too absorbed in the sight of Baekhyun in Zitao's grasp, and Baekhyun almost cries out as Jongin takes the chance to deliver a straight punch to his jaw. Chanyeol falls backwards, rolling over onto his feet again quickly as Jongin slams his fist into his abdomen again, and he splutters. He throws another punch, but Chanyeol holds up his forearms to block himself before raising his leg up and delivering a swift kick to Jongin’s lower abdomen.

When Jongin wobbles, Chanyeol throws another punch to his jaw, and he drops flat on his back. He doesn't spare a second when he instantly raises his boot up before smashing it hard down across Jongin’s face.

It knocks him out cold, and Chanyeol exhales deeply, knowing he's not done yet.

The baton lies untouched on the ground, and he swipes a hand down to grab it before turning to Zitao and Baekhyun. There's a small amount of blood already soaked through his handwrap, but he ignores it. When he straightens up, Baekhyun can see the blood and bruising on his face, from a busted lip and where his skin has broken on his cheekbones from Jongin’s blows.

Zitao rolls his eyes, and he drops his hand to step away from Baekhyun and towards Chanyeol. He's arrogant and audacious.

"Jongin really needs to brush up on his skills," he utters obnoxiously.

With the blade in his hand, Zitao makes a large swipe at Chanyeol, who immediately draws back, avoiding the knife's trajectory. He uses the baton to strike at him, spinning around when it whacks hard against the latter's left arm. Zitao jerks at the impact, rotating in the opposite direction and aiming the tip of the blade at the side of Chanyeol's ribcage.

The metal slashes Chanyeol's skin ever so slightly, ripping through his shirt, but it doesn't slow Chanyeol down when he turns at the last second to strike his right elbow across Zitao's face. He grabs onto Zitao's wrist with his free hand, forcing it backwards as the brunet yells out. Chanyeol doesn't waste a second, and he pulls Zitao forward as he thrashes the baton across his back. Zitao arches his spine in an immediate reaction, his grip loosening on the switchblade as it drops to the ground.

Chanyeol kicks it away, and Zitao yanks his arm out of his hold. He spits out blood, eyebrows knitting together in rage.

"Don't think this will be like last time," Zitao warns, voice dangerously filled with ire. Chanyeol only smirks, waving the baton around.

"Well, I won’t be the one leaving with more permanent scars."

His chuckle only infuriates Zitao more, who lunges at him. Zitao manages to strike a hard blow to his chest before grabbing onto his arm and twisting, forcing Chanyeol to sink lower onto his knee. His face scrunches up at the ache, and Zitao delivers several forceful kicks to his ribs that winds him. He falls onto his palms, struggling to inhale as he attempts to regain the regular airflow into his windpipe.

"Don't act like you're better than me," Zitao taunts, leaning over Chanyeol. He likes to provoke and play, Baekhyun has noticed. And while that surely works at times, Chanyeol growls in response before spinning onto his feet before Zitao can slug him. He stretches out his arm, blocking Zitao's attempted jab.

It's surreal to watch, just how Chanyeol collects his injuries.

Zitao throws left and right punches as he advances forward, and Chanyeol backs up in retreat, meeting every blow with his forearms to protect his face. It's when he ducks that he grabs the opportunity, and he knees Zitao's groin to halt his progress. Chanyeol grabs onto Zitao's left shoulder hastily, sinking continuous blows with his right fist into his abdomen until Zitao coughs up blood.

"Stop talking so much, it distracts you," Chanyeol lowly growls out when he knows Zitao is heavily weakened, and he focuses all his energy into bashing his elbow across his face.

The brunet collapses to the concrete, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. He's still breathing, eyes narrowed from the swelling, and Chanyeol squats down momentarily. He grabs the front of his shirt to pull his body up, snarling in his face.

"Don't touch him again."

He lets go, an aura full of disdain, and Zitao flops back to the ground. It's just for good measure when Chanyeol punches him in the side of his jaw, knocking him out fully.

The sight of a bruised and bloodied Chanyeol standing above Jongin and Zitao's unconscious bodies, breathing heavily and regarding him with caution, is the last thing Baekhyun sees before he blacks out.

/

It's still dark when Baekhyun comes to, and he feels a mild throbbing in his head.

He's swathed in blue sheets, warm and fluffy all around him as he sits up in a bed.

Not his bed, but a bed nonetheless. It's lower than his own, almost at the floor. Baekhyun would have mistaken it for just a mattress if he didn’t hear the slight creaking of the frame when he moved.

It's unsettling at first, and Baekhyun almost shrieks, but any sound dies in his throat once he spots the handle of the door to the room swing down. He isn't subtle at all, when he dives back under the covers as if that will hide his presence.

The footsteps are muffled, and he hears, "Baekhyun?"

Chanyeol's voice is soft, and Baekhyun slowly peeks out from under the fabric. His eyes skim from his feet up to his torso, perceiving his sweatpants hanging so low on his waist that Baekhyun can see Chanyeol's abdominal muscles shaped in their very tight 'V' shape.

"Oh, you're awake, that's good," he breathes a noticeable sigh of relief, a hand over his chest.

Which is bare. Well, save for the bandages wrapped around his lower torso, running from below his pecs over his midriff. Baekhyun lets his eyes linger over the visible tattoos decorating his skin, from the inky black figures along his collarbone to the coloured intricate designs half-hiding below his dressings.

But his eyes are drawn most to the marking on his right breast.

The white of the wound stretches long and wide, creating a raised ridge on his chest outlined by a light pink. The skin around has the sheen, a side-effect from healing. It's a hypertrophic scar, a result of trauma to his chest.

It's not what keeps Baekhyun's attention however.

It's the tattoo over it, displaying a striking white-inked snake twist into the word solivagant in rounded cursive, forming the body of the serpent. Black ink adorns the lettering, accentuating the design.

A lone wanderer.

It's beautiful and harrowing.

Baekhyun heavily swallows, averting his gaze to the floor before he stares any longer. The soft glow of a lamp next to him is enough to illuminate the whole room, and he can see how messy it is. There is a throw at the end of the bed, some patchwork quilt that looks relatively old, and he can see clothes both hanging off the wardrobe handles and strewn around on the floor, plus a bookcase so disorganized and full that Baekhyun wishes he could sort it out himself. Despite the clutter, the room itself is somewhat on the nicer side of appearances (for someone who makes their living beating people up).

Chanyeol stays where he is, hovering by the door which he's closed behind him. It's awkward and tense in the room, and Baekhyun blinks for a few more moments before he finally looks back up at him.

"So, where am I?" It doesn't need to be asked, but he would like the confirmation anyways.

"My place." The way Chanyeol speaks, his voice unsure but resonance still strong, is a mild contrast to what Baekhyun normally hears.

He sounds embarrassed.

"I was going to bring you home, but mine was closer, and I wasn't sure about walking into your apartment with you unconscious. In case Sehun saw. It would be hard to explain." He pauses for a moment before asking, "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay," Baekhyun answers softly. He purses his lips, raising an eyebrow. "Um, are you going to just stand there?"

Chanyeol fidgets with his foot, running it over the smoothness of the wooden-panelled floor, before he coughs, "Um, no."

He doesn't look at Baekhyun when he crosses over to the small wardrobe in the corner, plucking out a black tee as he pulls it on over his head. Baekhyun shifts in the bed, lowering his soft layer of protection that he no longer needs to ward off some unknown entity.

After all, it's just Chanyeol.

He sits upright, back against the wall and knees pulled up to his chest when he plays with the comforter. The blinds are drawn up so Baekhyun can see the night sky. There's no clock around, and he feels slightly disorientated at his ignorance of the time.

Chanyeol notices, "It's three AM."

"Oh, thanks," Baekhyun hums.

He stays by the window, leaning against the ledge as he fidgets with his knuckles. They're cleaned up, his handwraps replaced by fresh bandages, and Baekhyun notices the Band-Aid on the bridge of his nose. Despite the freshness of his face, he is still sporting the marks of the earlier skirmish, with a cut lip and dark bruising on his cheekbones.

"Did you do that yourself?" He asks. His voice is hoarse, and Chanyeol immediately grabs the glass of water sitting on the bedside table to offer it to him. 

"It's safe, I promise," Chanyeol guarantees, and he takes the glass gratefully, sipping at the liquid. It's a soothing relief, and he thanks him softly before placing it back on the table.

His question lays forgotten, and Baekhyun repeats himself. It's his never-ending curiosity.

"Um, yeah." Chanyeol brushes his fingers over the bandages. He's back at the window, keeping enough distance between the two of them. "I started to treat myself again when, you know..." he trails off, and Baekhyun nods in response.

He knows what he's going to say.

When they stopped talking. When they stopped seeing each other.

When they just, stopped.

It's an argument that seems ridiculous now, many months ago amid feelings of anger and agony. But Baekhyun knows it's anything but, when he can still feel the way Chanyeol's unexplained absence shredded his heart with sharp, unforgiving claws.

It's a lie, to say Baekhyun was over it all. Maybe he was fooling himself, when he thought he needed – yearned for – the fresh air, when instead he just missed the feeling of drowning. And now that Chanyeol is here, and he's with him, it's too bittersweet.

It's sudden, when Baekhyun starts to cry. He feels the tears prick at his eyes, and he holds his hands up to his face. That's when he realizes he's in one of Chanyeol's hoodies, the sleeves too long for his arms as the material flops at the ends, and he can feel a bandage over the cut on his cheek, and that makes him cry harder.

Chanyeol automatically comes to him, arms wrapped around him as Baekhyun sobs into his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Baekhyun," Chanyeol continuously whispers into his hair, cheek pressed atop his head as he rocks them back and forth slowly. They stay like that for a while, with Baekhyun crying and Chanyeol comforting him with soft-spoken words and gentle rubs on the small of his back.

Baekhyun lets himself be soothed; the comforter gathered around them both as he stays enclosed in Chanyeol's embrace. He feels warm and safe, the physical and immaterial sense of Chanyeol all around and inside him, filling his lungs with the long-missed familiarity of desire.

He wants to drown in Chanyeol.

It takes another few minutes for Baekhyun to quell his tears, rubbing at his face to dry his cheeks with the sleeves of Chanyeol's hoodie. He draws back from him, and Chanyeol unfolds himself from around Baekhyun to give him some space.

It's the closest they've ever been to one another, and Baekhyun sniffs.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, eyes red and watery.

"What are you sorry for?" Chanyeol asks, expression almost distraught at the possibility that Baekhyun could have anything to apologize for.

"For getting you hurt. For needing to be saved. For yelling at you before. For everything."

"Hey, you were right, you know," Chanyeol insists, "I did stupid things and handled everything wrong. You have nothing to say sorry for."

"But you got hurt, and that's because of me." Baekhyun adds on, "Again." And he starts to cry again.

"Hey, I'm fine, aren't I?" Chanyeol rhetorically asks. "I'm always going to be okay. Especially when I have my Doc around."

Baekhyun scoffs through his tears, "I didn't do anything this time. I was a fucking idiot just standing there because of a little knife. And then I fainted."

"You say little as though it's not a big deal. It's a huge deal, Baekhyun," Chanyeol regards him with a careful expression. "You were getting mugged in a dark alley, by two thugs with weapons."

"It doesn't make it any better when you say it like that," he tries to joke, attempting a weak smile.

Chanyeol pulls a face, guilt in his features, when he says, "I just mean, you were in a really bad situation tonight. And it could have been worse. But I'm glad it wasn't."

Here, Baekhyun looks away, diverting his gaze to his hands as he plays with the strings from Chanyeol's hoodie, "Yeah, and that's because of you." He keeps quiet here, causing Baekhyun to ask, "You weren't following me, were you? How did you know I would be there?"

Chanyeol looks up at him with soft eyes, blinking through his strands of red hair. 

"How could I not watch over you."

This steals the reply sitting on Baekhyun's tongue, and he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth.

Chanyeol continues, this time being the one to fiddle as he toys with the knot from the bandage around his hand and wrist, "Since the first time, when we, you know, kissed," he inhales sharply here, "and I left. Well, I've been trying to keep an eye. Just to make sure you were okay. Mainly to see you."

Baekhyun doesn't realize he's been holding his breath until he feels the dryness in his throat again, and he reaches out for the water.

"I know I fucked up. And I know it's so late for a proper apology and an explanation. But I really want to give you one now. I've thought about it every day for the past five months."

Baekhyun suppresses his surprise, and he nods when he's ready to hear it. "Okay."

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, adjusting himself so he's sitting cross-legged opposite Baekhyun.

"I like you. I do like you, Baekhyun. In fact, I might be in love with you. And that's why I left. Everything you said to me that night when we kissed, in fact, everything from even before then, makes me want you more. You're caring and thoughtful, and so smart. And you don't judge people. Especially me. You are your own type of perfect, and I just thought that here I was, a hotheaded, rough underling who uses his fists for everything. I didn't want to ruin you.

"I know your friends have an opinion of me, and honestly, they're right. I am not someone you should be around. Look at tonight, for example. I'm bad news, all punches and fights, and you're in university. Studying to be a doctor, someone important and special. I can't screw that up for you. And I realized that too late. I'm sorry I left after the kiss. And I am sorry for how I handled things that time at the bar. I just am, so sorry, Baekhyun. I want you to forgive me, but I understand if you don't."

The room is silent when Chanyeol finally stops speaking, his confession and truth lingering in the space between them. They float around Baekhyun with an air of sincerity, their wispy tendrils swirling in and out of him, inviting Baekhyun to break the quiet.

"Is it my turn now?" He asks, and Chanyeol is eager when he nods his head in response.

Baekhyun smiles, a genuine, warm smile that makes himself feel just as elated inside as he displays outside.

"Chanyeol. When I said that I wanted to protect you, I meant it. I can't fight like you can, obviously. But I'm here. If you want to keep doing what you're doing, I will be here for you. To nurse your injuries and heal your wounds. I want to take care of you. I like doing it, because I love you."

He takes Chanyeol's hand in his, stroking over his bandaged knuckles lightly.

"These past months have been fucking shit, I'm not going to sit here and pretend you didn't hurt me. You did, but you know that. And I'm not going to yell at you for anything anymore. You saved me tonight. You're right when you said it could have gone worse. But you took punches for me. And a lot more. I understand your concerns, but I don't care. I don't need you to protect me. I want it to be the other way around. I've had love and protection my whole life and now, I'm giving it to you. Because you're not as tough as you think you are, and I want to be there, so you're never in pain again."

When Baekhyun finishes what he has to say, they glance at each other.

Everything is out in the open, no more secrets or lies. And even though there are still unanswered questions sitting between them, it's somewhat refreshing to find they're on the same page.

"You're so fucking stubborn, you know," Chanyeol heaves a deep sigh, grinning.

Baekhyun matches his expression, sarcasm clear in his voice when he replies, "Yeah, wonder where I got that from."

He rolls his eyes for show, immediately pulling Chanyeol into him by the front of his shirt, pressing their lips together. It almost burns, with how fiery Chanyeol feels both on and all over him. He tastes like smoke, but Baekhyun doesn't mind. Chanyeol's hands curl into Baekhyun's hair instantly, and the latter moulds into him as they both raise themselves up on their knees atop the mattress.

Any space between them disappears when he clings to Chanyeol, hands roaming over the wide expanse of his back. He feels his muscles under the thin material of his shirt, strong and defined, before his palms dip down to the curve of his spine.

Being with Chanyeol is electric and suffocating.

They're both eager and needy, and Chanyeol shows his fervor first when he pushes his tongue past soft lips as he meets Baekhyun's. The latter opens his mouth more in response, and Chanyeol grins into the kiss, taking the chance to taste every part of Baekhyun. He runs the tip of his tongue over Baekhyun's teeth before sucking the smaller male's bottom lip.

It's a deep kiss, to make up for time lost and yearn-fueled desire.

Baekhyun has to draw back to breathe, and Chanyeol grazes his lips over the cut on his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Baekhyun," he whispers, before bending his head down to press soft kisses alongside his jaw and neck. Baekhyun responds to every touch, dropping his head back as he rests his wrists on Chanyeol's shoulders.

"You need to stop apologizing," he murmurs. "Don't say sorry to me anymore."

"Yeah, I'm not going to listen to that," Chanyeol steals another kiss in an attempt to silence Baekhyun, a cheeky grin on his face.

It works momentarily, when their lips brush against one another's feverishly. Baekhyun is sure he almost moans into it, especially with how Chanyeol's hands slip down to caress the nape of his neck.

A gentle palm on Chanyeol's abdomen, feeling the dressing underneath his tee, brings their attention to it.

"Does it hurt?" Baekhyun asks when he pulls away. It's a standard question, despite already knowing the answer. Bruised ribs are nothing short of serious.

"Only when I breathe," he half-jokes.

Despite the charged atmosphere and position they're in, Baekhyun immediately untangles himself upon hearing Chanyeol's words. He climbs off the bed and heads towards the door without speaking, and Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows at the sight.

"Wait, where are you going?"

“You have a fridge, right?”

“Um, yes.”

Baekhyun looks back over his shoulder. 

He says simply, "To get you ice."

/ / /

The next week brings with it the sensation of relaxation, despite the lectures filling Baekhyun’s schedule. It's been too long without Chanyeol that he forgot just how sweet it felt to be smothered.

Even though he missed out on a day of university, waking up to several missed calls and texts from a worried Sehun who had never known Baekhyun to not come home to their apartment. Chanyeol didn't wake him in time for class and his internal clock clearly didn't seem to work in a bed that wasn't his.

Baekhyun had startled awake in the late morning that day, notably disorientated as he tried adjusting to the light filling the room. Chanyeol had been up already, reading in the living room as Baekhyun had shuffled out, still wearing the taller male's hoodie over his day clothes.

"Good afternoon," Chanyeol had joked, and Baekhyun gaped when he saw the time, jaw dropped and eyes wide. He was almost frantic as he continuously rotated in one spot to scan the area for his belongings. "Whoa, calm down," Chanyeol had placed his hands on Baekhyun's shoulders to stop his urgency. "You need to rest today. You fell pretty hard when you passed out in the alley."

"But class," Baekhyun had almost-whined, despite the ache still present in his head. Then he saw his textbooks open wide on the wooden table, sitting atop a cloth with a hairdryer lying next to them.

Chanyeol had noticed his perplexed observation, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and giving a bashful expression, "I, uh, tried to dry them as best as I could last night. I'm sorry I couldn't save all the pages. Some of them are crinkled and the words are a bit hard to read."

Baekhyun had just beamed in response, the stress of university disappearing as Chanyeol's words and actions tugged on his heart as if he were the puppeteer of Baekhyun's emotions.

He had later spent thirty minutes on the phone with Sehun out on Chanyeol’s fire escape, debriefing him with the alley’s events of last night and assuring him he was not hurt, safe, and with Chanyeol. Sehun had exhaled in relief at the first two things, before his heart rate shot up again at the mention of the crazed delinquent (Sehun’s words). It took another five minutes to coax Sehun (with Minseok dialled in) just to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, like track Baekhyun’s phone location and come running up to confront Chanyeol himself.

/ / /

His first late practical comes more than a week later on Friday, and he exits the building after dark with the other students, most of them in their friend groups walking towards bus stops, with a few at the bike rack unlocking their transportation home.

He hears him before he sees him, as Chanyeol sidles up next to him, “Good class?”

Baekhyun almost yelps, halting in his tracks as he peers suspiciously in the direction he had appeared from, “Were you waiting for me?”

“Was off the clock and figured I could accompany you,” Chanyeol grins, outstretching one arm as he motions for Baekhyun to go ahead. He’s sure they catch a few curious glances from his course mates, but his focus is on Chanyeol.

“And this has nothing to do with it being-” he peeks at his phone, “eight-thirty PM? And this is the first time I’ve gone home in the dark since the alleyway?” It also signifies the first time Baekhyun has seen Chanyeol since that night.

Chanyeol just shrugs, hands deep in his pockets and still featuring a grin on his face. “Not at all.”

“Are you still following me? You have never come to campus.” He starts to walk towards the train station, eyes narrowed in further suspicion, “At least, not that I know of?”

“This is a lot of questions.” Chanyeol says, and doesn’t offer anything further as he keeps pace next to Baekhyun.

It was an easy enough feat to slip back into their roles of wanderer and expectant. Despite the track record of a seven-week-long absence following their last kiss, Baekhyun was not worried. Something new in his gut stirred a sense of trust, and he knew he wouldn’t need to wait long before Chanyeol emerged again.

“And this is cagey behaviour,” Baekhyun retorts, quickening his steps in mock upset.

Chanyeol does give in, softly saying, “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Their walk to the station is silent, save for their footsteps and the wind gently whipping around them, bringing a couple of stray leaves into their path. The crunch is satisfying beneath their footsteps, and Baekhyun doesn’t notice how close they’re walking next to each other until they’re at the station.

He’s about to tap his card through the gates before Chanyeol reaches out a hand and places it softly on his wrist.

“Um, do you want to come back to mine?”

/

It's different, watching a film with Chanyeol on a screen that isn’t his, sitting on a couch that doesn’t belong to him, in an apartment he has been in for a total of one time.

His previous experiences were usually sat at the foot of his own bed, cross-legged and three feet apart as they watched whatever looked good and was available for streaming on Baekhyun’s nineteen-inch monitor.

Except Baekhyun isn't so much 'watching the movie' as he is glancing at Chanyeol every few seconds out of the corner of his eye. It seems Chanyeol is super engrossed in the screen, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he concentrates. It would be adorable, if Baekhyun’s own attention wasn’t focused on how close they were sitting and wondering how Chanyeol doesn’t seem affected at all.

He is pulled out of his stupor when Chanyeol guffaws out of nowhere at the scene in the movie, and Baekhyun has to awkwardly laugh along like he was watching the whole time. Chanyeol almost doubles over in laughter, before halting as he brings a hand up to clutch at his abdomen.

“Oof, still a little sore,” Chanyeol breathes out, an encouraging smile on his face when he looks at Baekhyun.

Baekhyun doesn’t know why, but he chooses this moment, and leans over to press his lips to Chanyeol’s. The response is instant, like Chanyeol has been expecting it this entire time. He kisses him back – hard – his hand coming up to curl at the back of Baekhyun’s neck as he shifts in his spot towards him. He opens his mouth, licking into Baekhyun’s own as he pushes his tongue in. That earns him a soft groan back, and Chanyeol’s cock twitches at the sound.

Baekhyun is the one to pull away first, eyes wide and breathing shallow as he looks at Chanyeol. The gaze back is intense, and Baekhyun starts to feel the nerves creeping everywhere into his body. So it’s completely sudden when he takes Chanyeol’s hand in his and wordlessly leads him to the bedroom.

They still don’t say anything when Baekhyun gently pushes Chanyeol to lie down on the bed, swinging a leg over to straddle him. Chanyeol raises his eyebrows, up on his elbows as he watches Baekhyun slowly shift his shirt up with the pads of his fingers until it’s bunched at Chanyeol’s chest.

The dressing around his torso is gone. Yellow bruises still colour his untouched skin, and he sees the small cut from the alleyway on his lower abdomen almost fully-healed. His eyes trace every single tattoo on his body until they land back on his giant scar, marked by the beautiful snake. He lets his fingers dance over the raised ridge of skin, before leaning over to softly press his lips to it.

"Can you, do stuff?" Baekhyun is shameless.

"You mean like, sex?" Chanyeol clarifies, mouth curving up at the corners when he nods. He chuckles, "Do you want to find out?”

Baekhyun answers with his fingers, unbuttoning his own shirt from the top down, and slowly peeling it off his shoulders.

Chanyeol’s grin is replaced with a wanting stare, and he rises up further to meet Baekhyun’s lips, a hand curled around the back of his neck. Baekhyun lets his own hands settle clasped together behind Chanyeol’s neck as he responds to the kiss, opening his mouth and licking into Chanyeol’s own brazenly. Chanyeol closes his mouth slightly, softing sucking on Baekhyun’s tongue. Baekhyun can feel the intensity in his lower abdomen, stirring in his gut, and he practically ruts against Chanyeol's crotch before pulling away, breathless and light-headed.

Chanyeol works at Baekhyun’s jeans, undoing the button and zipping them down as Baekhyun does the same for him. He rolls off him, and they both shed their clothes until they’re standing completely bare in front of each other. Baekhyun takes his time, mesmerized by everything about Chanyeol, as he lets his eyes wander over every marking, scar, and tattoo decorating his body. His cock is half-hard, and Baekhyun steps towards him to close the distance as he takes him in his hand and softly starts to pull.

Chanyeol groans out low, bending down once more to kiss Baekhyun, placing his hand at the small of his back as he pulls him in and peppers kisses all along his jaw and neck. Baekhyun lets his head roll back, eyes closed, as he continues to stroke up and down Chanyeol’s length. He savours every press of Chanyeol’s lips to his skin, the electricity running through his body and making its presence known as it pools in his gut, twitching his own dick considerably. It’s not enough, and Baekhyun feels the fire ignite inside him, stirring from the low of his gut and spreading everywhere to the tips of his fingers. He wants more.

They end up on the bed again, Baekhyun on his back and Chanyeol slicking up his fingers. They are both fully erect, cocks straining as Chanyeol situates himself between Baekhyun’s legs. He rubs a thumb around Baekhyun’s rim, a preparation that is bordering on tease with every second he doesn’t push in. Short, sharp exhales are escaping from Baekhyun’s mouth, his gaze never breaking Chanyeol’s throughout this time. For some reason, neither break their eye contact or the silence.

Chanyeol’s eyes are dark and piercing when he finally has his thumb inside Baekhyun, sliding it in and out ever-so-slowly. Watching Baekhyun try his hardest to maintain his resolve is more attractive than he would have thought, and it’s the very thought of his attempted composure that gets Chanyeol to replace his thumb with two fingers all too sudden. A soft gasp punctures the still air in the room, but does nothing to disrupt the intensity they both feel.

There’s no smirks or grins shared, no quips or jokes. Their intent is strong and sincere.

Baekhyun doesn’t dare look away from Chanyeol’s stare, and Chanyeol doesn’t even think to. His fingers are working faster, twisting and bending slightly as he continues prepping Baekhyun enough. And Baekhyun does everything he can to not moan at the feeling, his toes curling so hard as he bites down on his bottom lip with furrowed brows. He doesn’t succeed completely however, and the whimpers he makes are fuel to Chanyeol, egging him on when he slides in his index finger.

Baekhyun’s entire resolve almost disintegrates right there, and a hand shoots out to grab onto Chanyeol’s shoulder for something to steady himself. It’s hard under his touch, muscles flexing as he continues fucking Baekhyun open, not halting once. The silence in the room is replaced with slick sounds and irregular breathing from both, Baekhyun with his moans in between and Chanyeol with deep exhales.

There’s an almost-soreness in Chanyeol’s gut, his cock so hard and desire so fierce to be with Baekhyun, inside him, feel him all around him. He removes his fingers slowly, giving Baekhyun no warning as he clenches on air, and that causes him to buck up, needing Chanyeol inside him just as desperately.

Chanyeol already is tearing at the plastic, rolling the latex down and slicking up the outside. It’s when he returns to Baekhyun on the bed that he stops, brows slightly furrowed in uncertainty when Baekhyun places a hand on his chest to interrupt him coming any closer.

Again, neither of them utters a word, too transfixed on each other to fracture the calm between them. Baekhyun motions, stepping forward as he slowly guides Chanyeol back on the bed, their positions swapped. He presses a knee down on the comforter and Chanyeol grabs the back of his thigh, running his hand up and down the skin as Baekhyun situates himself on top.

He presses his lips to Chanyeol’s, a breathless kiss that is so deep and so full of longing that Chanyeol doesn’t know how he survived without it before. It’s when they pull away that Baekhyun gives him a nod, and Chanyeol’s flush spreads across his face instantaneously, hands automatically coming up to his waist for support.

When Baekhyun sinks down onto his cock, Chanyeol is the one to groan. It’s not quiet, and Baekhyun almost smiles at the sight of Chanyeol, eyes rolled back in his head as Baekhyun fucks himself up and down. The pace is slow, Baekhyun rolling his hips and earning more soft grunts from below. The speed quickens not too long after, when Baekhyun decidedly opens his legs a little more, getting more purchase on the mattress below him as he takes in all of Chanyeol’s cock and it goes in, very deep.

Chanyeol snaps his head up, eyes darkened considerably it stirs something else in Baekhyun’s gut and he almost comes at the sight. He cups a hand around the back of Baekhyun’s neck, pulling him down to crash their lips together as he bucks his hips up for the first time. It catches Baekhyun off-guard, and he almost yelps, curling his hands into Chanyeol’s hair and pulling when he feels Chanyeol cock push all the way inside him.

They stay like that, chests flush against one another as Baekhyun licks into Chanyeol’s mouth hot and heavy with fingers twisting into the red of his hair, and Chanyeol fucking hard and firmly. Chanyeol’s palm slides around Baekhyun’s waist to his back, cupping his ass and squeezing as he drags his cock out and pushes back in with force.

More gasps accentuate the slaps of skin, and Chanyeol is the first one to officially interrupt the quiet between them as he whispers out a, “Fuck.”

The corners of Baekhyun’s mouth curl up, and he nips at Chanyeol’s neck, sucking and softly biting at the inked skin under his ear. Then he chances it and teethes at his ear, which produces another curse from Chanyeol’s lips, and Baekhyun is urged to tease.

He pushes himself up, palm resting on the scarred tissue of Chanyeol’s right pec, and gently outlines the snake with the pad of his middle finger before he stops at his nipple. Hovering above it, he runs his finger over it, and Chanyeol’s breath hitches, stopping mid-thrust as his pupils dilate.

Baekhyun bites his lower lip in veiled excitement, mirroring his left hand as he places his thumbs over both nipples, rubbing over them in small circles. He feels Chanyeol’s cock pulsate inside him, and then he bends down, taking one between his teeth.

Chanyeol immediately growls out, another, “Fuck,” disappearing into the air as he grabs Baekhyun’s wrist and takes his fingers into his mouth.

And then he starts again, thrusting his hips up even quicker than before, angling his body so he can get even deeper into Baekhyun. Baekhyun doesn’t expect the pace, and he is almost pliant atop Chanyeol, his fingers being sucked and licked by Chanyeol as his cock fucks into him, swiftly and wet.

Baekhyun murmurs something unintelligible, and Chanyeol thinks it sounds along the lines of, “Shit, oh my God,” as he sucks Baekhyun’s middle finger from joint to tip, a sly grin dancing on his lips.

He knows they’re both close, can feel how Baekhyun clenches down on his cock so tight and warm, so he chooses to roll over, Baekhyun slipping off him as they face one another. Baekhyun hasn’t touched his own cock all night, so Chanyeol peels the latex off his cock, wrapping his hand around both of their dicks as he works them up and down together.

Baekhyun is very responsive to this, the first touch all too overwhelming as he loses himself in the touch of Chanyeol’s palm, Chanyeol’s cock against his, Chanyeol’s breath on his cheek, Chanyeol.

He returns the favour and brings Chanyeol’s free hand to his mouth as he sucks on the tip of his index finger, running his tongue along the entire digit and then pushes his thumb into his mouth. Chanyeol continues to stroke them even with the distraction, moving his hand up and down as he goes faster. When Baekhyun’s breathing hastens, Chanyeol can feel his cock throb, and he knows he’s going to come.

It takes a couple more strokes before his hand is covered in warm as his body shudders, jerking in spurts as the muscles in his back flex, and Baekhyun bites down a little too hard on his finger still in his mouth when he follows right after. He wraps his hand around Chanyeol’s, working them through their orgasms as he pumps whatever is left inside of them.

They remain lying as they are, turned towards each other catching their breath with flushed cheeks. Chanyeol lifts his head, pressing a kiss to the tip of Baekhyun’s nose.

“So,” Baekhyun starts softly, “did that hurt?”

Chanyeol chuckles, shifting up to clean themselves off.

“Not at all.”

/

Afterwards, when Baekhyun is tangled up in the covers and in Chanyeol, who is draped over the back of him, a perfect big spoon, he traces one of Chanyeol’s tattoos on his right hand. It’s a group of geometric symbols; circles, dots, triangles, and lines all interspersing one another and creating some sort of compass, the symbolic North line extending all the way to the first joint on his ring finger, still temporarily decorated with the small bite-mark from before.

It’s almost February now, and the wind is still strong outside, casting shadows on the wall of shaking trees and trembling branches.

Chanyeol shifts, raising himself up as he puts his lips to Baekhyun’s bare shoulder, “Thanks, by the way.”

Baekhyun doesn’t move, gently asking, “For what?”

“Saving me. One year ago.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun curls the sheets into himself more, smiling. The night that Sehun and him found Chanyeol. The night he dragged him back home, attended to his wounds, and started this journey. The night where he felt suffocation for the first time, the mystery of Chanyeol hovering around him with tendrils drifting through his body, and permeating every corner of his life.  

It's exhilarating to Baekhyun, that drowning in Chanyeol feels like floating.

“You’re welcome.”

/ / /

It's early Sunday afternoon when he hears the little tap on glass – the first time in a long time – and he jumps, no longer used to the sound or appearance of Chanyeol at his window. He knows he was on his way, his phone beeped thirty minutes ago with a text. (Yet another adjustment in his life he needs to acclimatize to. It was after their night at Chanyeol’s that he programmed his number into Baekhyun’s phone, realizing how absurd it was they didn’t have each other’s numbers. Baekhyun sort of defended it, hands on his hips when he brought up how Chanyeol seemed to follow him around anyways so they didn’t really need each other on speed dial.)

He unlocks the latch with a hand still placed over his rapidly-beating heart, sliding the glass up, and Chanyeol climbs in. Just like always before.

"Hi," he says, grinning widely, a little breathless.

"Hi," Baekhyun replies, a smile just as big on his own face.

"Am I interrupting?"

"You always are, but I have time."

Chanyeol keeps up his expression of joy, leaning down to quickly peck Baekhyun's lips before turning to shut the window. He has no new bruises or cuts that Baekhyun can see from what’s visible of his skin.

"What's up?" Baekhyun asks, voice calm despite his heart beating a little too quick from the kiss. Casual, like they’ve been doing it forever.

Chanyeol shrugs, "Just hanging around.” He produces a familiar cream and sage pouch from behind his back, “And thought I would return this to you.”

Baekhyun takes his first-aid pouch from him, curious to know what has been depleted in the time it’s been gone. He figures he will check later, and goes to return it to its spot in his drawer. "You know, I think you can start using the front door."

Chanyeol waits until Baekhyun is standing up again before taking his hands, pressing their foreheads together when he meets his lips. He pulls away to say, "Honestly? I think I prefer this way."

And Baekhyun returns his smile, "Me too."