for those of you still following this blog, i want you all to know that i'm not uploading my fics here anymore!! i'm now @quirkjeno if you would like to read all of my new, less cringy stuff <3
sjdkskfk thank you for your support!!! i honestly never expected to be on one of these lists, especially seeing all of my favorite exo writers on the list too uwu
⌲ summary : it became from “Grab a coffee with me?” to “Why should I grab a coffee with you?” too fast for your liking. you had thought the both of you were so in love with each other—only to realise it was only you who had fallen into this trap of feelings. and as for jungkook, he might have just been as confused as you are.
⌲ pairing : ex-boyfriend!jungkook x reader
⌲ word count : 6.6k
⌲ genre : super angsty , lil smutty , flashbacks
⌲ warnings : vague smut, teasing
⌲ a /n : this story is actually based off my recent past relationship :-) aaaand i tried my luvs :”
“Shit—fuck,” You mutter a series of curses under your breath as you bent down in a haste, picking up all the pieces of papers that have escaped from your arms and scattered across the road by the river in a haphazard manner.
You silently chide the redundant wind in the city that was colder than necessary already.
Throwing the red scarf mindlessly behind your neck, you moved swiftly from place to place in a squatting position, retrieving the mischievous scraps of your psychology research papers. As if the documents had a mind of their own, they dance away from your reach with the help of an incoming strong breeze causing you to be disgruntled, almost stumbling forward in attempt to snatch your homework back. The wind seemed to be having fun playing with you, like a laser and you were the cat, you jumped from spot to spot in the bad fashion decision of wearing a miniskirt that unfortunate day, you wondered what an obscene sight you were giving to every passerby who laid their eyes on your frantic form.
Finally, you heaved a sigh of relief as what truly belonged to you—and not the stupid gale that signalled an impending rainfall— had been collected completely and you scanned the ground for any remnants of the wind’s doing. Calf muscles straining a little from the intense mini jump squats, you stretched before making your way home, this time clinging onto your papers tightly-
“Excuse me, is this yours?”
The suddenness of the voice makes you jump. And the familiarity of it makes your heart pound tenfolds harder.
Pairing: Taehyung x reader
Genre: angst, horror, chimera!au, experiment!Taehyung, chimera!Taehyung
Wordcount: 3.1k+
Warnings: mentions of torture, body horror?, unholy fusions of creatures and humans, unethical laboratory and scientific practice, death, blood and a lil gore
Notes: ok OK HOLY FUCK WOW I churned this out in like five hours? Six? Anyway its @yminie’s fault because she is largely responsible for this brainchild and wow, im kind of astounded at how well it flowed and how easily I could write it. BLESS U QUEEN I LOVE U
Against the stark white of the laboratory walls, Taehyung was red, and Taehyung was pink. He was a boy as innocent as you’d once been and utterly, irrevocably wholly undeserving of the cruel fate the universe had bestowed upon him.
Request: Anonymous: Hello!! Can you please make a suho scenario where his first child asked him and his wife for a sibling? Thank youu.
Genre: fluff and cute family interactions.
Word count: 1+k.
a/n: so this is just a really quick fluffy drabble thing that I hope you enjoy. Families come in all forms.
request.
You were in a wonderfully mindless state, your mind somehow free of any pressing worries or tasks in a way that had become almost unfamiliar. It seemed like there was always something to think about nowadays, with every day’s time slot being filled in with precise efficiency it was rare that you ever got a moment to simply sit still, like not physically still, but mentally as well.
Your eyelids slid close in the moment of peace, leaving behind the words of the book sprawled across your lap abandoned on the page. With your eyes closed, you could hear the silent noises of the other occupants of your home. The flicker of the page of some children’s book being turned while sounds of lunch prep mutely clattered from the kitchen. There was the breeze of a melodic hum that drifted in from the same direction and your lips twisted in an overly content smile. You barely noted the gentle commotion of a small body picking itself up from its lying down position to venture over to your place propped up on the floor near the now abandoned bed, it was only when there was an unintentionally sharp jab to your stomach did you realise that someone was next to you.
You peaked open a curious eye as the poking at your abdomen continued, peering down to find your four-year-old daughter kneeling down next to you, her gaze focused entirely on the work her fingers were making on your clothed stomach. “Can I help you Jae-See?”
“I’m busy,” She answered simply, far too consumed in prodding you to deem you with anymore context.
Her movements were so methodical that you would have thought she was trying to punch in some secret code, the mere thought causing a laugh to rumble from your chest, “What are you busy with?”
“I’m ordering,” She stated so confidently just as her pointer finger taped into your ribs.
“What are you ordering lovey?” You prompted further information as to whether or not you should be concerned that your daughter thought you were some sort of machine.
Her gaze met yours for the first time, determined in a way you rarely ever glanced, “I’m ordering a baby.”
You were stunned into silence, eyes bulging at your child’s admission and freezing under her continued ministrations. It was difficult to calm your breathing and extract the frazzle from your voice, “And why are you doing that?”
“Because I want a baby sister,” Jae-See declared with such certainty, “And Teacher Park said that babies get delivered from mummies’ tummy so I’m ordering one.”
“Jae-See,” You spoke carefully, not really knowing what else to say. “That’s not how it always works lovey.”
“What do you mean?” She inquired, gaze still consumed by confusion as you moved her hands away from your stomach, keeping them tightly grasped in your palms, “I came from your tummy, can’t my sister come from there?”
You were too focused to even turn to the sound of your husband nearing the entrance, your tongue tripping and tumbling over itself as you attempted to summon up something. Junmyeon crossed the room with ease, calm and composed as ever, “What’s up darlings?”
“I’m getting a new sister daddy,” Jae-See announced, beaming up at her father who sat to be at your side of the ground, “I’m ordering one from mummy’s tummy right now.”
“Oh,” Was Junmyeon’s rather unhelpful response and you didn’t know what you were expecting him to say.
“Jae-See,” Your daughter directed her attention back to you, seemingly oblivious to the shift in your demeanour, “Unfortunately your sister can’t come from mummy’s tummy.”
“What?” Her small face pinched in confusion, “Why not, I came from your tummy.”
You could feel Jummyeon still next to you and you took a deep breath, smiling as brightly as you could while shifting your intonation to one that read nothing but light, “Well no honey, you didn’t come from my tummy.”
Jae-See’s befuddled pout simply increase as her eyebrows furred, “I don’t understand? Jin-Woo came from his mummy’s tummy.”
“Jin-Woo did,” You tried your best to continue to ease in, “And most babies did. But Jae-See you came from another ladies’ tummy.”
“I did?”
You nodded, glancing slightly over to Junmyeon, who rubbed a soothing thumb over your knuckles and smiled at Jae-See as he continued, “Yes lovey, you see, mummy and daddy couldn’t have a little baby by themselves so we needed another ladies’ help.”
“So I didn’t come from your tummy?” Jae-See summarises, her gaze flashing down to your permanently empty stomach.
“No, you didn’t,” You admitted, clutching Jae-See’s hands helplessly in your own, “But you came from my heart which is filled with so much love for you, and that’s what’s important, right?”
Jae-See seemed to ponder all the new information for an entire of about five seconds before she answered, “I guess, but does that mean my sister will come from your heart as well? Because you said your heart was full with love for me, will there be space for her?”
Junmyeon let out a surprisingly loud laugh and you couldn’t help but join in at the simplicity of your daughter’s processing, feeling the tears that had threatened to brim over swarm into something closer to joy and relief.
You leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your daughter’s forehead, grasping her precious face in your hands, “I’m sure I can make some room.”
is that the ending of stay with me? i want more. i cried my eyes out ;-;
don’t worry, it’s not!! i have at least eight chapters planned total, and maybe an epilogue. and if you cried with this one, then ohhh boy are you in for it with what’s coming next!!!
summary: when byun baekhyun wakes up in the ER and can’t remember anything about the car crash, or the man who was driving, who is apparently his husband, he braces himself feel pity for the man, one park chanyeol. it comes as quite a surprise to him and everyone involved when chanyeol wakes up and doesn’t remember him either.
ship: chanbaek (park chanyeol x byun baekhyun)
genre: angst, fluff
warnings: very brief descriptions of medical procedures, language and inappropriate jazz hands
word count: 3.9k
a/n: pls i dont know about anything about medical procedures but i did as much research as i could so pls bear with me!! also i don’t know how much more it’ll take me to write the rest seeing as i have finals coming up and i have other stories planned :)) also more of the sm family makes an appearance!! heechul is amber’s colleague and shows up for like five seconds bc lol why not??? also, here is the song that chanyeol talks about in the flashback, i mainly listen to vaporwave and synth pop and dream wave when i’m studying or writing so expect it to show up more in future chapters!!
masterlist
chapter one: my name is byun baekhyun
chapter two: my name is park chanyeol
Paper.
Not new paper, brand new office paper right out of the plastic wrapping, not at all. But rather that crumpled up paper, with words half erased and rolled into a wad on the floor.
That's what Park Chanyeol felt like.
The doctors didn't know how to explain it. He'd given them a field day, apparently. The odds of getting amnesia were relatively small, and the fact that both he and the enigmatic Byun Baekhyun had gotten it in the same incident left them baffled.
“I don't think this has ever happened to patients of mine before,” Doctor Liu told them once she'd finished her first check up on him, “I've never heard of it happen to any of my colleagues’ patients, that's for sure.”
His words were quiet as he spoke, shoulders hunching in on himself, indicating how insecure he was in his speech. “What do you mean, doctor?”
Doctor Liu cocked her head to the head as she studied his face. “Mr. Park, you have amnesia. I've had patients with amnesia before. But... never in my years of experience have I come across patients who had gotten amnesia in the same accident… let alone in the same car.”
In the moment when they'd first entered, he didn't recognize the man sitting in the wheelchair, who had been watching him interact with the doctor.
But a few moments later, he did. Or at least, he thought he did. If it was who he thought it was, he had a lot of questions he needed answers to.
And when the doctor had presented him as Byun Baekhyun, he almost slipped into another coma.
It was then that he remembered.
He would've at least spoken to the other man if Doctor Liu hadn't wheeled him out, insisting that the both of them rest properly before actually speaking.
Baekhyun, who was being wheeled out, raised a hand and began to insist, “But I'm fine—”
Chanyeol nodded in agreement, staring at the woman, “Me too, I don't see why we—”
Doctor Liu shut them both up immediately. “Mr Park, we need to run a few tests on you, immediately.” Her voice was strict and firm, like a mother chastising her children, beginning to exit with Baekhyun. “As for you, Mr Byun—”
She continued to speak, but then he heard the door open and close, and he was as alone as when he woke up.
Which brings us to now.
He's lying alone, waiting for the little cot he's on to move into the machine so he can get the MRI scan Doctor Liu rushed him to get.
The machine whirs to life, and Chanyeol shuts his eyes as he feels himself move, the machine pulling him in.
“Mr. Park,” Doctor Kim, the doctor who he'd woken up to, begins to say through the speaker, “Keep as still as you can, this should take about a minute or two.”
He doesn't answer, unsure whether the pair observing him through the window in the wall will hear him or not. In the machine, he can hear it tumbling and groaning, like a washing machine. So this is what it feels like to be dirty laundry.
Chanyeol lies there, blank, wondering how he managed to get to this point. Because, to everyone's surprise, he can't remember. Well, he can remember, but it feels fuzzy, and it’s strange. Because it’s one of the last few things he can remember, and it feels like it happened years ago.
A car radio, a late night drive, sparkling eyes staring at him teasingly under some moonlight. The taste of soju on his tongue, sharp and sticky sweet. And a boy, shorter than him, leaning against the hood of his old Pontiac, looking like one of the sweetest sights he’d ever seen in his 21 years.
Except he’s not 21. And that boy? He’s now a man, sitting in a wheelchair somewhere in the hospital, and Chanyeol can’t remember anything else about him except for his name. But his head aches when he thinks and so does his chest, because what the hell is going on, and when the hell will he get an explanation?
“He what?” Back in Baekhyun’s hospital room, Minseok’s voice rings out in shock, as he’s leaning forward in the seat next to Baekhyun’s bed as he sips on cheap coffee he got from the machine he got outside the hall. Baekhyun frowns as his eyes flutter closed, leaning his head back against his pillow and bringing up his hands to brush the hair out of his face.
“He doesn’t remember me.” Baekhyun’s voice is hard. “The doctor told me they’d probably told him about my condition, but apparently they didn’t. I walked in, and he was there and he asked who I was and… Hyung, I didn’t know what to do.”
Minseok doesn’t answer, considering the situation.
“I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or upset,” Baekhyun murmurs suddenly, and Minseok sits up.
“Baek, why would you feel relieved?”
“Hyung, I was so scared that I’d hurt him if he did remember. I don’t want to imagine how he would’ve felt if he’d just woken up from a coma and found out that the person who was in the car with him got amnesia. And the way you guys say he cared about me… I didn’t want him to hurt.”
Minseok nods, eyebrows furrowing as he contemplates Baekhyun’s answer. “This definitely got way more soap-opera-ish than I was hoping.”
“Minseok!” Baekhyun’s voice comes out as a whine. “I’m being serious.”
“Okay, you’re right,” The older man mumbles, “So I’ll forgive you for not calling me hyung.”
Baekhyun blows out his cheeks, staring daggers at Minseok. A few seconds later, he collects himself and stares down at his hands, resting in his lap, atop the thin, cream-colored sheet the hospital gave him to sleep with.
“What do I do, then? I can’t ignore him forever. He’s going to come out of testing soon, and unlike me, his legs are fine. He can just waltz in here and talk to me.”
“Well, then, talk to him, duh. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Baekhyun opens his mouth, already having overthought every possible worst case scenario, but then Minseok holds up the hand that isn’t holding onto the styrofoam cup of coffee and wags his index finger at him, “Don’t answer that question, Byun Baekhyun. It’s easy to overthink, I get it. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be you in this scenario. But I can say that whatever you’re thinking, it probably isn’t going to happen.”
Baekhyun sighs, for what feels like the millionth time. The doctor had left him in his bed so quickly, he didn’t have to ask any questions. He was too in shock to process anything, that by the time he’d heard the door close with a soft click, he realizes all of the questions are there, they’re just held back by the breath that Baekhyun hadn’t realized what he was holding.
“I just… I don’t know what’ll happen, hyung.” Baekhyun’s voice is small, quiet.
Minseok takes another sip of his coffee, before setting it down on the table next to the hospital bed. He raises his eyebrows, gazing firmly at the younger man.
“I don’t know, Baek. You can… I don’t know, you two can start all over. Maybe this will be good for you.”
When Baekhyun doesn’t answer, Minseok stands, grabbing his almost empty cup of coffee. “I gotta go, I have some paperwork to turn in by tomorrow. I’ll try to see you tomorrow, maybe bring Jongdae around.”
Baekhyun nods, and Minseok waves one last time before heading towards the door. It opens with that click he’s grown to hate, and before he steps out he turns around. “Good luck, Baek. I mean it.”
Baekhyun manages a bittersweet smile. “Thanks, hyung.”
The door closes with that godawful click, and Baekhyun is alone again.
A few minutes later, Krystal, his nurse walks in, and leaves him lunch, before starting his IV drip again. It’s chicken, and rice, both unseasoned, bland, and chewy. He asks himself the if the reason why is because he’s still in shock, but then he realizes that it was flavorless before Park Chanyeol woke up, so it would probably still be flavorless after Park Chanyeol woke up as well.
“He’s my what?” Chanyeol asks, as he follows Doctor Liu back to his room. The halls are relatively empty at this time of day, and if they weren’t speaking, he’s positive he’d hear the fluorescent lights buzzing.
“He’s your husband, Mr. Park,” She answers, for the third time, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“I shouldn’t have to find out,” He mutters to himself, somewhat hurt, “I should know who he is. I should remember him.”
“That mentality will get you nowhere, Chanyeol,” The doctor tells him, looking at him earnestly. “What’s important is that you remain hopeful. The results from your MRI scan will be ready soon, we’ll be able to see how much damage you sustained in the accident. We’ll proceed from there. There’s always a high chance of recovery with amnesia.”
Chanyeol nods, but her reassurement doesn’t do much to settle the weight in his chest. They walk in silence from there, and when they get back to his door, the door that reads Room 203, the Doctor jerks her thumb towards Room 204, which is behind her. “That’s Baekhyun’s room. If you need to speak to him, do it when you’re ready. Just don’t rush into things, you’re both still processing this.”
Chanyeol takes a deep breath, pursing his lips. “Thank you, Doctor Liu. I-I’ll… I’ll speak to him eventually.”
The doctor offers to help him into his room but he refuses— he'd much rather spend the time alone. The door closes, and he strolls towards his bed.
“I'll talk to him tomorrow,” Chanyeol says to himself, resisting the temptation to walk into Baekhyun’s room, “He's probably resting or… something.”
Five minutes. That’s how long he lasts.
The temptation is just too strong, and Byun Baekhyun is just too close. He walks out of his room, long legs still wobbling slightly, seeing as he hasn't used them properly in over a week (or that’s what they tell him, he can’t really remember). He raises his fist to knock on the door and hesitates. What will he say?
The sign on the door that indicates Room 204 is gray and monotone like everything else he’s seen in the hospital. It’s almost taunting to him, he can feel it teasing him, because why was he so scared of what’s in the room, when what’s outside the room is so ordinary and square?
Fuck it, Chanyeol decides, straightening his posture, before he knocks on the door. A few seconds later, he hears a soft “come in”. He grips the handle, letting out a harsh breath, and opened the door.
He walks into the room, which he immediately notices is smaller than his. His eyes glide from the wall, to the bed, to the man in the bed, who is staring at him in slight disbelief. Meekly, Chanyeol steps in, closing the door behind him. He leans against it, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.
“Uh… Hi,” Chanyeol greets, managing an awkward smile, while Baekhyun maintains a poker face and waves, without saying a word.
You’re married to this guy, man, Chanyeol thinks, Get it together.
“I’m— I’m Chanyeol.”
Baekhyun nods, seeming to snap out of his shock. “I-I know,” He mutters, looking down and fiddling with his hands, “I’m… I’m Baekhyun.”
Chanyeol nods, still leaning against the door. The silence seems to scream out at him, the tension and awkwardness gripping him with cold, clammy hands and strangling him. “Can I, uh, come closer?”
Baekhyun looks at his surroundings, and he nods, managing a small smile. “Yeah, go ahead.” He chuckles softly, somewhat sadly, before meeting Chanyeol’s eyes again. “It’s okay, I don’t bite.”
Chanyeol smiles back, but it’s not completely happy. It’s like Baekhyun’s laugh, bittersweet and melancholy. Slowly, he peels his back off of the door, before slowly making his way towards the chair he notices is close to his bed.
He sits, resting his elbows on his thighs, long legs stretching out towards the floor. The fabric of the seat’s cushion is scratchy, but he decides to ignore it. “So…” He begins, but can’t finish the sentence.
“So…” Baekhyun parrots quietly, staring at Chanyeol. The silence reigns supreme, and some five seconds later Baekhyun sighs and claps his hands together softly.
“We’ve got to start somewhere, so… fuck it,” He says, before locking eyes with Chanyeol. He takes a deep breath, gives a smile too big to be 100% genuine and flashes him a pair of somewhat mistimed jazz hands, in a situation that really, really doesn’t call for jazz hands.
“My name is Byun Baekhyun, I’m 28 years old, I’m scared of spiders and the last thing I remember is trying to talk to my friend Minseok but failing because he’s too busy trying to shove chopsticks up his nose. And you are?”
Chanyeol cracks a smile at the introduction, snorting. He opens his mouth to speak for a second, before flashing back the equally fake smile. “My name is Park Chanyeol, I don’t remember how old I am, and the last thing I can remember is… well, the last relevant thing I can remember is meeting you.”
Baekhyun’s smile drops, and Chanyeol’s slowly fades into a small, slightly tight-lipped smile. Baekhyun opens his mouth, eyes not knowing where they want to go, but he can tell they definitely don’t want to go back to Chanyeol’s.
“R-really?” He chokes out, and Chanyeol nods, before shrugging. “It’s kind of fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure I remember most of it.”
Baekhyun studies Park Chanyeol once more, before finally meeting dark eyes with his own.
“T-tell me what it was like. Please, Chanyeol.”
Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows, picking at a cuticle nervously. He doesn’t back down from Baekhyun’s gaze, taking a deep breath.
The funny, slightly tragic thing is, Chanyeol remembers Byun Baekhyun. He was a boy, back then. He was blond, too. But he can still recognize him, even though his baby face looks more mature and the bleach blond hair has been replaced by soft, brown locks.
Byun Baekhyun.
Definitely not the same Byun Baekhyun, no, not at all.
If he were to stare at this Byun Baekhyun, he'd see a deer in the headlights. Chanyeol was almost too afraid to approach him out of fear that he'd run. But his leg was broken — Byun Baekhyun couldn't run if he tried.
From what he could remember, there was a quiet kind of curiosity in Baekhyun's eyes when they first met. He'd been almost playful in their metaphorical game of cat and mouse, flirtatious to the correct.
“My friend Junmyeon had dragged me of our apartment because he'd been invited to some house party. He left me alone because he was off chasing some girl, and you were alone on the couch, and…”
He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember what happened next.
“And…?” Baekhyun asked, urging Chanyeol to continue.
“And I sat down next to you, and just… started talking. You were nice.”
Baekhyun watched Chanyeol’s face contort as the taller man attempted to recall the memory. He looked somewhat pained as he did it, and as he was about to tell Chanyeol that he didn’t have to tell the story if he didn’t want to, Chanyeol spoke up again.
“Neither of us were really fans of the party, so we just kind of… we left.”
Baekhyun’s eyes widened, and he gulped nervously. Chanyeol immediately noticed Baekhyun’s change in demeanor, and he coughed awkwardly.
“N-not like that! We didn’t… do anything. We went driving, I promise.” Chanyeol felt his face flush at the implication, and he could tell the tips of his ears were doing the same, probably bright red.
“Well…” Baekhyun still looked uncomfortable, but he looked up at Chanyeol, unsure. “Where did we go?”
Chanyeol inhaled deeply, before a strange smile grazed his face. He felt warm inside as the memory replayed in his head. “The beach. We went to the beach.”
“It’s a pretty long drive,” Chanyeol told him, “Are you sure you want to go?”
Baekhyun nodded, grinning. “Yeah, as long as we get away from this party.”
Chanyeol nodded, smiling. Jongdae’s house wasn’t too far from the coast. It was about a 45 minute drive when there was no traffic, and considering the fact that it was almost two in the morning, he pushed the key into the ignition, before turning to look at Baekhyun.
“Then I suggest you hold on, it gets pretty bumpy in this magic carpet of mine.”
Baekhyun smirked, raising an eyebrow at the boy’s choice of words and looking at him from the passenger’s seat. “How magical are we talking about?”
Chanyeol felt his face heat up as he realized what Baekhyun was playing at. He stammered, quickly turning the key. He felt his nerves calm slightly as the old car sputtered to life. The sound of the engine reminded Chanyeol of the old iron lung machines they used back when polio was still a thing.
The car was old, an old dark blue Pontiac Firebird from ‘86 that his grandparents had let him have. The car was his father’s, but when he’d gotten married to his mother a few years later, he’d left the car in their garage and hadn’t touched it since. His father taught him how to fix up the old car, and it had been Chanyeol’s greatest love ever since.
Moments later, the Pontiac was starting its way down the street, the party and its thumping bass long forgotten.
“The beach? We went driving to the beach?” Baekhyun asks, eyes starry with curiosity. He was leaning closer towards Chanyeol now in his bed, staring at him intently. Chanyeol’s smile didn’t leave his face, eyebrows furrowing as he stared back at Baekhyun’s face.
“Yeah… We just kind of drove until we ran out of road, and… talked. We talked for hours. I think it might’ve been... six in the morning, maybe?”
“Wait, wait—” Baekhyun choked out in between laughter, “So your mom left you alone with the chickens and they attacked you?”
Baekhyun’s hair seemed to sparkle in the moonlight coming in through the windshield. Chanyeol laughed along with the other boy, “I didn’t know they’d get that angry! If they did I wouldn’t have picked up the chick!”
Baekhyun buried his face, muffling his laughter. Chanyeol’s gaze darted from Baekhyun, to the road, to his mirrors, before beginning the cycle all over again.
“Don’t laugh at my childhood trauma,” Chanyeol whined sarcastically, “I’ve never been able to look a living chicken in the eyes since. At the first sleepover I went to, we watched fucking Chicken Run and I’d almost piss myself whenever I heard a chicken noise.”
Baekhyun wheezed, throwing his head back against the car seat’s headrest and clutching at his chest. “Stop! I can’t breathe,” He choked out, “It’s too much.”
Eventually, their laughter died down, and the only sound were the sounds of the motor and the strange electronic music coming out of the speakers.
“What kind of music is this? Synth pop or something?” Baekhyun’s voice was quieter than before. Chanyeol shook his head, making a face at him. “Synth pop? No, it’s called vaporwave. It’s like a mix of synth and soft jazz, I guess. I download the songs and transfer them onto cassettes in my free time, since this car only plays cassettes.”
“You’ve got a nice aesthetic going on here. A car from 1988—”
“1986,” Chanyeol corrected, and Baekhyun shrugged.
“Basically the same thing. Cassettes, and your vaporwave mixtapes.”
Chanyeol shrugged, taking one hand off of the wheel. “It’s mostly just hand me down stuff from my dad. He gave me his old tape recorder, and as a sound engineering major, I figured out how to hook it up to my computer. This tape right now is my late night mix.”
Baekhyun nodded, listening to the soft synthy beats flow out of the stereo. The song was slow paced, with a steady bass that, when combined with the synth, made the younger boy feel nostalgic for something he couldn’t put his name on.
“What’s this song called? I like it.”
“This one? It’s called Resonance, by HOME.”
“Resonance,” Baekhyun murmured to himself, “I’ll try to remember that.”
Just as the song was ending, the road ended at a hill looking down on the beach coast. Chanyeol parked a few safe meters away from the edge, and turned off the car. “So, what now?” He asked, staring at Baekhyun, who was staring at the moon’s reflection on the waves.
“I don’t really know,” Baekhyun answered, before getting out of the car. Chanyeol promptly followed suit, watching the shorter boy lean against the hood of the Pontiac, palms resting flat against the cold, dark blue metal. Baekhyun closed his eyes and lifted his chin slightly, clothes and blond hair rustling slightly in the late night sea breeze. He looked peaceful, calm.
When he opened his eyes he immediately turned his head to stare at Chanyeol, and flashed a small smile. “I love the beach,” He murmured, “My mom used to bring me here during vacation when I was little. She couldn’t really afford to take me anywhere else, being a single parent and all. But it was the greatest thing for me.”
Chanyeol smiled at Baekhyun’s warm gaze, nostalgia evident in the dark eyes peering up at him under the moonlight.
He wondered just how easy it would be to get lost in those eyes.
“This is so weird,” Baekhyun murmured, not meeting Chanyeol’s eyes.
“Yeah, it is,” Chanyeol said sadly, “We’re supposed to be married and here we are. We don’t… I don’t know you.”
Baekhyun pursed his lips, before offering an unsure smile. “Maybe it’ll be fun. Getting to know each other again. I mean, we got married for a reason, right? There must be something here.”
Chanyeol smiles at this, studying the other man’s face carefully. “You’re right,” He agrees softly after moments of silence, “Maybe this could be something good.”
Silence falls again on the pair, and Baekhyun’s eyes fall, once more, to the hand on his lap, and then focus on the ring on his third finger. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows, showing Chanyeol the ring on his hand.
“I woke up with it on, and I didn’t want to lose it,” He explained quickly, and Chanyeol nodded. “Oh.”
“We know the end of the story,” Baekhyun continued, eyes darting between the ring and Chanyeol’s face.
“And now we both know the beginning,” Chanyeol offers, nodding again, and Baekhyun does the same, a small crooked smile gracing his plump lips. But soon, Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow, and he frowns at Baekhyun.
“But we don’t know the rest of the story.”
Baekhyun sighs, his hands falling to rest in his lap once more. “We’ll remember. Eventually, or that’s what the doctors keep telling me.”
“What if we don’t?” Chanyeol whispers, worry evident on his face. He’d woken up a few hours prior, but the pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in years.
Baekhyun inhales deeply, secretly hoping he didn’t marry a pessimist. With this in mind, he leans towards the edge of the bed and looks at Chanyeol. The taller man perks up, and the pair stare at each other, before Baekhyun speaks.
“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to write a new story.”
“He’s my what?” Chanyeol asks, as he follows Doctor Liu back to his room. The halls are relatively empty at this time of day, and if they weren’t speaking, he’s positive he’d hear the fluorescent lights buzzing.
“He’s your husband, Mr. Park,” She answers, for the third time, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“I shouldn’t have to find out,” He mutters to himself, somewhat hurt, “I should know who he is. I should remember him.”
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