this? this is a broken temple. split marble, bullied god, dead religion and these eyes make decisions to praise things i don’t understand. park chanyeol. medic. location unknown.
he thinks to find a start, too; where his feet first left off or where his eyes first saw sunlight, then he thinks maybe that’s too far back. and they have words on pages for this, divisions in people’s lives that he used to think everyone could see. biodatas and profiles, and he has long since known that it’s just always been him.
and now chanyeol is speaking, and yixing is listening, and he is storing this away somewhere important things are kept.
“eulsa,” he answers after, “but i think i’ve lived in every city.”
now two hands play with one of chanyeol’s, and yixing looks to the side pensively. “what was… what’s your mom like?”
a short laugh leaves his lips, curt, humorless. chanyeol never thinks about his mother, unless he’s directly speaking to her during their tri-monthly phone calls. he left home, and she never directly asked him to return. what more could be said about that?
“she’s... i dunno? the typical rich, conservative mom of a gay, mutant son?” laughs again, but he knows it isn’t funny. “she wasn’t the worst, she wasn’t the best. she’s just... my mom.” chanyeol shrugs.
it isn’t that it’s hard for him to talk about this, but it isn’t easy either.
“she’s upset that you’re a mutant, too, and even more upset that you’re man, but she’s willing to look past it for the sake of familiar relations which really means that she doesn’t want it leaking to the press that the park family is fighting— again.” he feels like he’s rambling, so he gives a tiny smile, more to convince himself than his lover that he isn’t bitter about it.
he cocks his head to the side, tracing yixings face with his eyes.
“what about your parents? do you know anything about them?”
in this life, chanyeol has many tattoos and yixing has a ‘thing for bad boys.’
in this life, chanyeol and yixing meet in a pet store. in this life, chanyeol has many tattoos and yixing has a ‘thing for bad boys.’ in this life, chanyeol holds guns and grams of coke with equally steady hands. in this life, chanyeol slaughters a whole family for fucking with his money, except for the baby.
yixing names the baby mei, and begs chanyeol to move them out of the city.
so, in this life, chanyeol and yixing live in a suburban home in the middle of northern new jersey. the house is two stories with a basement, and they have a labrador retriever named rocky, and chanyeol waves to his neighbors from his maserati.
yixing drives a sky blue porsche, because, at his heart, he’s as superficial as he’s ever been.
they wear expensive clothes, and chanyeol fucks his underlings in the back of his car.
yixing knows. yixing knows everything.
but mei is growing so fast, and chanyeol is still as handsome as he was when they first met, and yixing is afraid the home life has made him grow fat. he smokes cigarettes when no one is looking, and tries every diet pill that’s legal and then buys the illegal ones too.
addiction is a strong word, yixing never uses it.
sometimes, when chanyeol goes on overnight trips, he blows the neighbor whose wife had too many botox injections.
“i fucking hate you, chanyeol,” yixing hiccups over his sobs.
their neighbors pretty head, soft brown hair included, sits on their washing machine.
jongin kim. the only other asian in the fucking neighborhood.
chanyeol doesn’t really see what’s so special about him, really. he’s seen better, fucked better. yixing could do better.
if his husband’s going to cheat on him with someone, that someone better be miles above chanyeol.
to yixings extreme displeasure, chanyeol is still just as charming as he’s always been.
“i know baby,” the taller murmurs gently, and lets yixing beat his chest, before winding tattooed fingers around yixings wrists, holding them together with one hand, and wiping away his tears with the other. “i know you do.”
he kisses each of the others eyelids, immensely satisfied with the saltwater he finds there.
yixing whimpers, and chanyeol kisses him anyway, and it doesn’t take much.
at their core, they’re in love.
“what will your daughter think of you?” yixing demands. tonight, chanyeol is covered in blood and brain matter, and hadn’t had the capacity to shower at the loft downtown that served as one of his many hideouts.
chanyeol grows, and shoots a glare at his husband.
“she idolizes you, chanyeol. please, please, be something respectable. be someone she can idolize.”
but it was too late, of course. chanyeol had seen the pictures on the fridge. when mei gets older, chanyeol will teach her to shoot, and she’ll take over the syndicate. he can see it in her tiny , beautiful brown eyes. she’s chanyeol’s daughter, through and through.
rough hands yank yixing close, and chanyeol kisses the smaller square on the mouth, blood and all.
they fuck in the shower, and yixing tries to wrap his head around the fact that he wants this.
in this life, chanyeol fucks the pretty boys they pimp out in the gang, and yixing fulfills his needs with their neighbors. in this life, yixing throws a plate at chanyeols head, and chanyeol pulls his gun at the dinner table. in this life, mei will be the first female leader of the crime syndicate.
in every life, chanyeol buries his desire in yixings neck. in every life, yixing is unabashedly in lust for chanyeols body. in every life, they rip each other apart, breaking down into the barest elements they have to offer. in every life, mei wants to be just like her papa.
looking at chanyeol feels a lot like looking at the sun, like looking at the remaining years of his life, like looking at the rest of forever laid out before him in dark brown and sun-pale skin.
he nods.
“if you do,” he says, “i can tell you all about me,” because he still knows where he’s written, where his whereabouts are stored, his why’s and how’s,
“and i want to know all about you,” he continues, “since you’re my forever and all.”
and he doesn’t say it in any special way, not in the cheesy way people say grand things, not in the way they recite wedding vows or emotions. he says it like the time of day, like the weather, like the day’s news; he says it like words are spoken breaths, and each is as easy to take in as oxygen.
smiles, enamored and breathless. "i want to know all about you, too." he says, because he means it, because he's always thought that.
scratching his head, chanyeol tries to find the beginning.
he realizes it's very hard to find one.
"let's play a game," he suggests, smiling again, looking for all its worth like the child he is at heart. "you ask me something you want to know, we'll both answer it, and then it's my turn to ask you something i want to know."
this, he thinks, will be easier than beginnings.
"for example, what city were you born in? i was born in sori, but i lived in heukyang a lot because my dad had business there. what about you?"
he doesn’t expect a question as an answer to his question, and for a moment he waits for the silence to give him guidance—since it had been the silence that prompted him to ask in the first place.
but the quiet remains as quiet as it is, and once again yixing feels utterly disappointed in the universe of himself.
“i mean… we talk now, right? about … what we need to buy, and what we need to do and, things we— …
i know we didn’t used to much,” he cuts off and trails away, thinking to bathtubs, shower, water, abandoned buildings, rooftops, earthquakes,
“but we do now, don’t we?
i mean, i know i have to really try harder but… we’re not as quiet as we used to be—are we? am i?”
its a calm day by comparison to any other, and it finds yixing with every nerve set an inch away from the edge. its a few minutes past lunch, and he is yet to smell of baby barf; he thinks this is an achievement.
and it finds chanyeol on the couch, and yixing the young lover he was when they first met; looking and unable to tear his gaze away.
“chanyeol,” he plops down on the couch beside him, quiet still to keep the child sleeping; always looking with all the love in the world, blinking wide brown eyes, fluttering long lashes; folding his legs up on the couch and looping both arms around one of his lover’s. “we communicate, right?”
because he can’t keep away from the dreams of people saying they don’t.
as far as saturdays go, this one is relatively mundane, and chanyeol has recently begun thriving in the mundane. he has a newly published book about prosthetic arms in his hands, and soft music plays from the living room speakers. he doesn't worry about the noise waking mei up as the music was at least a third of the reason why she fell asleep in the first place.
mundane is ripped away from him as soon as yixing lays eyes on him without laying the rest of his body on him as well.
it's so rare that they spend meis nap time as anything other than their sex time.
"communicate?" chanyeol repeats dumbly, dog earring his book and sitting it beside him.
that's a hard question and chanyeol is unsure how to answer it. he isn't worried about a fight, because they are generally easy-going, but he doesn't want faraway stares for the next few days. mei is teething, and they need to be as united as they can be for the next few months.
do they communicate? chanyeol isn't sure. on one hand, chanyeol could write a novel about yixings favorite foods, locations, kinks, and television shows but he knows he would fall short if it came to his home life, his childhood memories. chanyeol knows how yixing feels about many things, but not because yixing told him.
the last time chanyeol tried to propose, they didnt talk about it. they adopted a turtle.
mango is a great guy, but chanyeol thinks that might be indicative.
"uh," he says, scratching his neck in that tell-tale way that shows his nerves, "i guess it depends on what you mean by communicating?"
he looks at yixing, trying to decide if his answer was the right one.
(/yixing doesn’t say much, but they’ve perfected this, the art of speaking with their hands and their eyes and their throats. chanyeol thinks he could understand yixings whole life story with just one well placed touch. he smiles, because he loves him, because he is happy, because his whole body is humming with something he’s never felt before he met then man in front of him)
(/with careful fingers and the soft press of lips against the others neck, chanyeol guides himself home, exhaling heavily onto the top of yixings shoulder, losing himself in the moment, in his lover, in the life they’ve made for themselves. he doesn’t know if it’s yixing, or the power of the moment, or perhaps himself, but he swears he sees them in every world every time they do this. every life they’ve lived, every body they’ve held, he can feel their rawest form humming between them)
i love you, (/murmurs in yixings ear, the deep bass of his voice reverberating in his chest. he sits back a little, looking into the others eyes, pushing the hair back off of his forehead. he smiles again, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips)
(/this isn’t usually how they do things, because they’re usually rushed, usually on the verge of death or peaking on amphetamines or rushing to finish before mei’s nap is over. but time is suspended now, and chanyeol realizes just how much he missed taking his name with his lover)
(/pulls his hips back slowly, before nudging them forward, listening, feeling for the sign from yixing that he’s okay, that they’re okay, that everything will always be alright when they’re connected like this)
(/smiling slightly, chanyeol adjusts mei’s shirt one more time like the True Fussy Dad he is inside (this, unsurprisingly, is his final form. he’s been a great many things, in a great many lives, but this is the one that fits him the best) and hands her to hyoyeon careffully, so the little one doesn’t get all upset like she does when she’s abruptly handed off. she’s a senstive little thing)
anything? (/asks because he’s confused, but then he gets it and he laughs, scratching his head, and leaning back on the couch. he’s a little nervous bc this is the first time anyone aside from himself and yixing have held her, and he’s afraid she’ll panic or, god, even worse, hyoyeon will panic)
uh, no i don’t think so? (/he leans forward, elbows on his knees, and makes a motion with his hands that is a failsafe to make the little one laugh) but mutant babies show signs so differently.
i didn’t start showing until i was seven- and even then, my true mutation didn’t surface until i was twenty-one. (/shrugs, and tickles her foot, leaving mei to giggle and shove her fist in her mouth) isn’t that right mei monkey? (/glances up at hyoyeon and then looks back at mei, who’s looking around with impossibly large eyes)
oh, (/sounds surprised) that’s weird. i could’ve sworn... (/frowns a little because he can’t tell if he’s losing his mind or just pays very poor attention) her eyes... they’re green now. they were definitely brown before you came.
( ` just because he gives it doesn’t mean he can take it—the teasing and the slow kisses and the lips on his neck and the roaming hands have his heart pounding, skin burning, knees bending and tucking into chanyeol’s hips and head tilting back as he laughs, ticklish. )
i don’t know. ( ` and he means it, and it’s not much vanity, because he thinks when chanyeol says hot he means the temperature of his skin because it’s always like this when he’s with him; always yixing never being able to grasp that a human body can heat up so much without simultaneously combusting. he always finds it impossible that his temperature can rise so high and his skin can stay in tact at the same time.
(but impossible is such a big word, because yesterday he was on the edge of a cliff and yesterday chanyeol was bleeding on the floor and yesterday chanyeol bought this house and today they are in love, and there is a child in the room down the hall breathing to the pace of their heartbeats.)
so he grasps at locks of chanyeol’s tangled hair for answers, urging him on with a soft sound rolling off his lips and the hardness in his jeans becoming obvious. and yixing doesn’t last long, doesn’t last long holding his hands in place—as if to scratch an itch that badly needs to be scratched, he reaches down to unbutton his jeans, and unzip, and pull down. relief comes but it is spared by the material of undergarments, although yixing relishes in the temporary comfort; already distracted by the serious pull of lust, and the intense need to love, and to kiss chanyeol again, forgetting the guilt he’d felt for doing something so obscene with something so innocent not too far.
he kisses him, hands on either side of his face, thumbs pressing into his cheeks, lips all the love in the world, forgetting that he can be anything but absolutely in love with the boy in front of him )
(/as he so often is, chanyeol is taken aback by the love that yixing has the capacity to give, and moreso by the others willingness to give it to him— of all the people in the world, chanyeol is the one yixing wants to kiss like this. wants to hold close and trust in every way. so he kisses him with the love that’s built up through the universe and it’s as if he can feel every body yixing has ever had in his hands, in this moment. he wonders if this is what it’s like to find god. perhaps yixing is the only religion he will ever need)
(/content on worshipping, on pressing lips across a heaving chest, on spreading thighs and kissing the seams of inner legs. yixing is so, so beautiful. chanyeol knows he could spend all day here, just kissing him, exploring his body in every way and he would never grow tired)
(/but there daughter is asleep, and they don’t have the time to waste. instead, chanyeol pulls away the last bit of fabric in the way, slow, in praise and in reverence, and leans back across the others body, covering it with his own as he reaches into their night stand for the only things that keep them separate. he returns with lube on his fingers, the bottle in his hand, and strokes yixing carefully, the grip not firm enough to do anything other than tease, rile up, and he moves his hands quickly after that, gently pressing one finger, then two, moving rhythmically and slowly, sitting back on his heels, just watching the way yixing reacts)
(/he leans forward after a moment, kissing the side of yixings neck, praying the only way he knows how) do you want me to use a condom? (/and he can’t help it, his tongue flicks out, licking a firm stripe up the column of his god’s neck)
i fell asleep in this body,
waiting for your alarm clock hands to rattle me into being.
if i sleep through this century, will you wake me in the next one? the one after that?
“The Birth and Rebirth of Our Story” — Eliza Lane
(via elizalane)
( he slips easily into chanyeol’s touch, into the warmth of his body; smiling back the happiness of mornings and scooting over closer to fit their hearts together. and he can’t be sure if they fall asleep again, or if they stay awake to stare at love, but either way it feels a little like passed time that never seems to leave. and he is looking at the strands of sunshine decorating the morning floor, and he looks down to see their fingers still intertwined. ) happy birthday ( he finds himself saying, almost a whisper, more than words, pressing an intimate kiss to chanyeol’s shoulder, and caressing his skin with loving eyes; barely forgetting he’s still fast asleep, not much wondering how long, neither minding )
(/doesn’t know how long he’s asleep for, but it doesn’t feel very long, and yixing’s presence is still warm at his side which means mei isn’t awake yet. he cracks his eyes open, and yixing is awake, and chanyeol wonders what time it is) morning, (/he murmurs, and hopes his breath doesn’t smell too bad because yixing is awfully close and would definitely smell the morning breath if he were to have it. chanyeol shifts slightly on the bed, turning slighting and shifting closer to the other because they rarely have time to be together like this) what time is it? (/voice hoarse and groggy from the lack of misuse. a lazy hand wipes at his eyes and he winces slightly at the sharp feeling of eye crust falling away)
( ` the day starts with a heartbeat. yixing waking up first and staring into the air for a moment, as he does when he comes to—not for a single second forgetting exactly what day it is.
the most special of days. one he is very thankful for. one he doesn’t know how to live without. and he is staring at chanyeol’s peaceful, sleeping face for a moment, and at the ring on his finger, or just his hand, his even breathing,
touching the slender bone and skin of his hand in the moment that follows, feeling the heat of his skin. another year alive, another beautiful thing )
(/waking up to yixing is highkey the most amazing part about chanyeols life. it’s soft, and gentle, and yixing is never loud and obnoxious, always perfect. the only thing better than being woken up by his lover is being woken up by his child, and the two bring him such massively different kinds of joy that he can’t even really compare them)
(/groggy, and barely awake, chanyeols fingers wrap around yixings, eyes shut but the ghost of a smile on his lips)
(/one arm sloppily reaches out around yixings waist, soft, comforting, just to remind himself he there’s. mei isn’t up, yet, and chanyeol resigns himself to fall back asleep)
( ` a small, sweet laugh comes from his throat and goes on to color his lips; yixing is drawn in by words and obedience, and so he does. and so he moves towards chanyeol, rolling on top of him, swinging one leg across his body and straddling his hips like its the most natural thing in the world, a gentle hand pressing against his shoulder to pin him onto the mattress, taking the time to kiss his chest, his shoulders again, his throat, hot breath stroking the throb of chanyeol’s pulse, nuzzling into the soft space beneath his jaw,
kissing up, his cheek, his temple, bent low over him, the tips of their noses touching, the air sweet with the mess of spilling lust and open love;
he lifts chanyeol’s chin upwards, leaning closer into him, lips barely grazing the other’s lips—more a promise of a kiss than an actual one, smiling against his skin )
(/groans, smiling, breathless and patient. the laze of lovers who know each other too well to worry, too well to be truly impatient. chanyeol lets yixing tease, let’s himself be teased in return. his hands move from yixings thighs to his waist his arms before one falls back to his thighs, the other sliding into his hair, pulling his impossibly closer)
(/the kiss is searing in the cool of the room, and chanyeol laughs breathlessly before he repeats yixings actions, sitting up and kissing down his neck, his collarbones, his chest)
beautiful, (/murmurs into the skin that covers the others heart. chanyeol is apart of this in a way he didn’t know he could be, in a way he didn’t know he wanted to be. the thoughts brings a soft growl to his lips, and he rolls them over, resting between the others legs with an easy smirk) how do you stay this hot? (/ducks head to kiss at the others neck, just below his ear, just how he likes it, hand trailing down his right thigh, firm and slow)
