sticky

huang zitao, pancake house host, ex-convict of stealing your man

[247baekhyun-blog]

;; providing shelter

[247baekhyun-blog]

he’d laugh at the expression that’s crossing over zitao’s face, how it shifts from probably wanting to curse at him, from trying to stare him down with his piercing eyes to surprise, or maybe even something like shock over suddenly seeing him. and from the look he’s giving him, baekhyun guesses that he recognizes him easily as well – but it would’ve been kindof embarrassing if he wouldn’t have, right? and of course, it would’ve hurt baekhyun’s pride immensely, as he thinks of himself as rather unforgettable.

but it’s weird, this moment of just blankly looking at each other, so baekhyun bites back the laugh, deciding to ignore how it seems like zitao’s not happy about seeing him at all; it’s not like he cares. most people aren’t delighted to see him, baekhyun’s used to it and they broke up after all – even if they didn’t part in a fight or with bad blood between them, the way the other broke up with him back then was still very sudden, very weird, so he guesses this is still in the air between them.

“i enjoy all the attention on me, after all”, he answers, tone as dry as zitao’s was and he raises an eyebrow at him, before following his steps, sliding a little closer to the taller’s side so he’d be shielded from the rain for sure.

at least, he’s sharing the umbrella with him without any protest.

a chuckle escapes him, although he doesn’t look amused by anything. but the corners of his lips still quirk up into a slight smile.

“seducing someone wouldn’t involve me being all drenched”, baekhyun huffs; he’d look so much better if he’d try to get someone into his bed, not with his clothes sticking everywhere to his body and his hair being all damp and flat. “but you should still take me home.” he pulls down the hem of his sleeves again to unstick them from his skin, “or else i’m going to be sick.” and if he wouldn’t be so proud he’d actually pout at zitao to keep him from saying no to him.

he still feels content, though, noticing the way zitao’s eyes keep flickering over to him. “is there something on my face?”, he asks, tilting his head to the side lightly as his hands come up, sleeves pulled up to his knuckles so he can rub the drenched fabric over his face lifting to free it from all the water clinging to him – he really wants a hot shower, he needs one.

he crosses his arms in front of his chest, not even smiling at zitao’s compliment because he knows him, he knows a nasty remark will follow and when the boy continues talking it scratches on baekhyun’s ego.

he still feels oddly comfortable with this, the teasing smile playing on zitao’s lips familiar to him and reminding him of their time together.

“i’d say the same about you”, he starts, eyes scanning up and down zitao’s form, “but not with all this weird stuff sticking to your hair.” he reaches out, fingers grabbing some strands of blonde hair as he leans in closer, eyes squinting together to inspect the substance. “ew, what even is this? honey?”

[247zitao]

zitao almost slips — not physically, but by slight of tongue. he nearly thrust his hand into the bucket of muck that brew their relationship, fingers spread and latching onto the heartstrings that were a ball of twine at the bottom. but he stops himself. he doesn’t chuckle, and he doesn’t voice the thought that scrolls so effortlessly in his head. really? you were always the most irresistible when you were like this, soaked to the bone. such words are inappropriate here, years too late.

his stomach feels hollow as he realizes that he knows nothing about baekhyun now. before, he knew every cut and crease of this boy. after, he doesn’t even know where he lives. “come to my place,” zitao offers. “it’s pretty close.” 

while the idea of being in a shut space with baekhyun raises goosebumps underneath his shirt’s cloth, he ignores these shivers. zitao has always been guilty of chasing after sin, almost like a dog after a bone. baekhyun sure makes a pretty bone.

he’s caught. the question causes a flush to creep up his neck, but a thick swallow smothers the sensation of heat that tries to make an appearance. he glues his eyes straight ahead and mutters a soft no. it’s a lie. there is a whole lot on baekhyun’s face. there’s beauty and curiosity and longing. or maybe zitao’s misreading his favorite book.

it was almost romantic. zitao remembers wasting time. maybe their time together was wasted time, but zitao never minded when his eyes were on his boyfriend. each second mattered when it came to the flicks of emotion that were lucky enough to grace baekhyun’s face. zitao misses it. more so, he misses baekhyun. somehow, he forgot this over the years.

zitao flinches when an outstretched arm reaches towards him, and familiar fingers are in his hair. he stops walking — but he continues after awkwardly ducking out from underneath the other’s hand. 

“um, it’s syrup.” he explains sheepishly. “i work at a pancake house.” it isn’t impressive, and it surely won’t win him any points. however, there is little he can tell baekhyun without shame coloring his face, and this is something he doesn’t allow himself to be ashamed of. he likes his job, even if it causes him to buy twice as much shampoo.

“so, you’re saying i’m not handsome because of it?” zitao fakes some offense, turning a corner. he lightly grabs onto the other’s wrist, tugging him along so the rain doesn’t even graze him. he lets go afterwards. 

sure, he has money, but he was never wealthy in comparison to baekhyun. it was even sadder when his father cut him off. at the very least, he gets by.

room 101 of the banjeom apartments. it’s much better than the cramped dorm rooms the two messed around in previously.

before entering the complex, zitao leads them to the overhang of the building, closing the umbrella and shaking off the excess water. then, he escorts the soaked puppy to his front door, opening it up.

[247baekhyun-blog]

;; providing shelter

[247zitao]

247baekhyun:

it seems a little like the world is against him;

and it’s just one of those days where everything kind of goes in the wrong direction, happens exactly the way it’s not supposed to and baekhyun still thinks he’s stupid for letting one of his friends pick him up instead of driving to the campus with his own car. baekhyun curses himself for breaking his usual routine, now in this mess because of it, stuck in the rain without an umbrella and with a drained phone battery, not able to reach someone at home to send him a driver or something.

an annoyed groan slips past his lips as he speeds up his steps a little bit more to get out of the rain, to save himself from getting completely wet; but there’s no real point in it, it’s already too late anyway, his clothes already soaked, every last bit of fabric on him drenched and sticking uncomfortably to his skin; he hates the feeling and his fingers tug at the sleeve of his sweater, trying to pry it from his skin as he tries to keep himself from cursing out loud over the fact that he’ll probably be sick the next day, body already trembling slightly from the cold he’s freezing.

maybe, he should just wait it out underneath some ship entrance or in a convenience store, he could get himself a cup of instant noodles at least and his eyes search around for a building, for something that would allow him to follow this plan.

but after a moment, he rethinks it; it’s been raining almost all day long, waiting somewhere would probably take way too long for him, he’s always been on the more impatient side – and baekhyun just wants to get out of these clothes, would prefer a hot shower over anything else.

that’s when he notices the guy walking ahead of him, half of his tall figure hidden underneath the safety of his blue umbrella, wondering briefly why the way he walks somehow seems so familiar to him, before a new idea forms inside his head, distracts him.

baekhyun hurries on to keep up with him, slipping sneakily under the other’s umbrella, both of his hands coming up to push the dripping strands of hair out of his face.  “sorry, not sorry to just get underneath here but—“, he interrupts himself, though, when he turns to the side to take a look at the guy, blinking right at his ex-boyfriend; he’d recognize his face everywhere, of course, it’s not easy to forget someone as handsome as zitao especially after spending so much time with him. “oh”,  he just says, taken aback a little at this coincidence, “it’s you.”

zitao likes the rain. it reminds him of his mother. there are memories, and then there are the fantasies that his imagination webs together, spinning his childhood into something much warmer. zitao his trouble differentiating the two. maybe he was three or four. he would wear rainboots and splish and splash in the puddles of freshwater. he would hold his mother’s hand. he would laugh, and she would laugh, too. or maybe that never happened. maybe she hates the rain. he would never know. 

regardless, he likes the rain. it makes him feel less exposed — almost like the hundreds of drops cascading around him are some sort of veil. he doesn’t like the dark, but this medium is halfway between black and white. it’s cold and wet, but it’s comfortable. 

he takes his time walking home. there is syrup in his hair, and he smells like coffee. it’s nothing a hot shower won’t fix. often, his job is a drag, and he wishes to leave and rid himself of the wailing children and sticky tabletops. at the same time, he knows he will accumulate another pile of complaints no matter where he works. this, too, is comfortable. 

some things are uncomfortable though — like some stranger bulldozing into him. zitao’s head snaps to the side to glare at the intruder, ready to shove this person aside. he freezes when he sees baekhyun. any feelings he harbored during their relationship were nothing but dust now, but zitao feels something in his chest. it quakes. 

baekhyun did nothing wrong, but association makes the other nauseating. one look at his face, and zitao relives it all. he remembers the phone call. the static and the doctor’s voice mingled into a single message: you’re fucked. indeed, fucked he was.

zitao ended things with baekhyun fifteen minutes later.

“after all these years, you still come on strong.” his tone is dry, as is his humor. it’s a weak attempt at defending himself. there are territories he does not aim to breach in this conversation. zitao continues to walk, angling the umbrella to cover the both of them. “is this caught-in-the-rain act supposed to seduce me?” 

he smiles a little. baekhyun always made him comfortable. while this is extremely awkward, it reminds him of the bickering and pestering he has missed. then, he makes the mistake of a glance. baekhyun is wet, and zitao’s eyes follow a bead of rain that snakes down his cheek. he clears his throat and looks away.

“you’re looking good.” of course, he can never give a direct compliment. “even if you look like a wet dog.”

[247zitao]

» just a little tight

@247jh

fuck me. zitao said this a lot. except recently, he wasn’t doubled over a table with his ass in the air. no, he was droning this as a soundtrack for his woe is me dramatics. he was miserable. life was literally fucking him — and it was not gentle. work was a nice stroll through hell today, and he was longing to collapse onto his mattress and sleep for fifteen hours. of course, that was after tossing his soiled shirt into the wash. a customer bumped into him and the scalding beverage was spewed onto his front. yep, another great day. misplacing his key was the icing on the cake.

zitao probably groaned for a solid ten minutes, patting and re-patting his pockets like a madman. no key was to be found. this was fan-fucking-tastic. he swore some sort of unlucky spirit was haunting him. it probably was so attached to him that it was his shadow. for a minute, he stood, gnawing on his inner cheek in thought. jongdae still had a key from when he housesat a matter of months ago, but that brat was in class. zitao groaned more. he would phone his friend later. maybe he could bum at a local coffee shop in the meantime. 

dejectedly, he headed out — but not before passing the elevator. it dinged, and the doors glided aside. jung hoseok was inside. zitao inhaled, and he smelled alcohol and sweat and sadness. he remembered. memory lane wasn’t a happy place for him. nonetheless, he was impulsive and incredibly lonely. so, he was walking, and he was walking straight to hoseok. sure, the two hadn’t spoken in almost five years, but communication was overrated — right?

[fyexo]