exomeme | part two hundred and twenty one

part two hundred and twenty one

chiyu chiyu

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world cup: exomeme edition: prelims | round one | round two | round three | finals

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internally screaming rn omg anon this is great

lol even with all of this, team lay is still in the lead. don't worry ur little head anon

i'm sure lay has end hour works too

comeback kids

(but there's still the free kicks)

wae r u doing this u_u

chanlay ig idk

this is so shitty oops pls don't look at this

It's a cold dark night, drizzling but not quite raining, when Yixing finally leaves the bar and locks it up tight. Nobody's around, not a soul. Even the alley, which usually has a cat or two roaming around trying to pick food from the dumpsters, is completely deserted. It had been unusually dead for a Thursday. He'd spent the last hour before close by himself, wiping down the counters and putting all the chairs up. The wad of bills in his pocket isn't nearly as thick as it usually is. He hopes tomorrow night will be better. More tips, fewer angry old men who pinch his ass and then leave a fistful of change in coins instead of generously compensating Yixing for his time. The amount of money he spends on salve for his poor bruised ass seems like an obnoxious expense for work, but at least his good nights cancel out the shitty ones like these.

He twirls the key ring around his finger as he walks down the sidewalk, other hand crammed in the pocket of his coat, scuffing the soles of his work shoes against the wet sidewalk, dipping his toes in the puddles. The water splashes away from his feet in sloppy arcs, spraying up his ankles and across the pavement. The city buses stopped running a long time ago and the bar is a couple kilometers across the city from where he lives alone in his tiny apartment. He's lived alone for a full year now, ever since his best friend and former roommate Lu Han moved out to live with a girl. He seems happy, at least, Yixing thinks to himself, even though he barely ever gets to see Lu Han anymore. Yixing's too busy working and Lu Han's got a job of his own, too--a real one, full-time, with normal hours during the day.

Yixing's so focused on watching his sneakers pull trails through the greasy, wet sidewalk that he completely misses the guy standing on the curb and completely bowls him over. Yixing goes sprawling over top of him and this evening's tips go flying over the street. Great.

"Ow," comes the guy's voice, scratchy and plaintive. "Watch where you're going, buddy!"

Yixing gets up on his hands and knees, scrambling to grab as many bills as possible before the wind takes them away. He holds a particularly soggy one against his thigh and smooths it out.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't see you there."

Yixing finally looks up into the stranger's hood and gets a good look at his face. Fairly unremarkable--dark hair, stringy with the rain, hanging in his eyes. A tiny snub nose. A pair of pink lips. Then he pulls the hood down and Yixing sees the guy's wearing makeup.

"Well. I was standing right here."

"I really didn't see you," Yixing says, and offers him a hand. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The stranger looks Yixing up and down. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Nah, it's fine. You didn't hurt me. I broke the fall with my hands." He looks over Yixing's shoulder. "Your money, though--look, some's over there, in the puddle."

Yixing groans and wheels around. "Go figure. At least it was a crappy night."

An arm reaches around him and suddenly the stranger is wrist-deep in the puddle of water, gathering the rest of Yixing's money. He doesn't flinch even though the water must be cold. Yixing holds still, lets the stranger lean against his back for support and feels how warm he is.

"Thank you," Yixing says shyly when the stranger's finished, accepting the soggy, saturated bills. He's not even sure if this money will be good anymore. He's going to have to take a hair dryer to them or something, but it seems to be all here. "I'm Yixing, by the way," he says when the stranger stands up and pulls his hood back over his head.

"Baekhyun," says Baekhyun. "Haven't seen you around the streets before."

Yixing's confused at the way Baekhyun words this until he sees Baekhyun's looking down at the wad of cash in his hands. The whole thing takes on new meaning.

"Oh, I'm not--"

"It's okay. I'm not a cop or anything like that. Me, too, actually," Baekhyun says, and unzips his sweatshirt to reveal a low cut top. Yixing blanches. As far as he's aware, he's never actually had a conversation with a prostitute before, and here he is... it can't look good to a passerby, the way Baekhyun has his sweatshirt held open wide so Yixing can get a good look at him.

"I'm really not. What you think. I am," Yixing stammers. "I was just on my way home."

Baekhyun nods and steps closer into Yixing's space. "Home sounds good."

Yixing notices for the first time that Baekhyun's wearing makeup. Not much--some black eyeliner, already smudged in the corners, clearly not waterproof, and some lipgloss. He's also trembling. Probably been out here for hours, soaked to the skin, waiting for someone to pick him up.

Yixing's never--never--paid for sex before in his life. Something about it feels so strange. Even though it's been a long time since he had a date, months, really, and even longer than that since he's actually had sex with anyone, it almost felt like an easy way out. But now, meeting Baekhyun, looking down at his face, the way he smiles, he's turning it around in his head. Baekhyun slips his hand onto Yixing's hip under his coat and his shirt. His fingers are freezing cold against Yixing's bare skin. This guy's had a hard night -- so has Yixing, really. Yixing puts his hand over Baekhyun's and squeezes it, hoping to transfer some of his body heat over to Baekhyun, make him stop shivering.

"How much?" he hears himself ask. Baekhyun smiles, eyes going dark, and gets up on his tiptoes to whisper in Yixing's ear.

"That's negotiable, depending on what you want." He steps back and tips his head. "What do you want, Yixing? A good time? A quickie? I give great head."

Yixing thinks about it. What does he want? He wants Baekhyun to be warm and dry. He wants Baekhyun to stop shivering. He also just... wants. He tips Baekhyun's chin up with a single finger, presses a kiss against Baekhyun's cold mouth. Some of the gloss transfers to his lips. It tastes cheap.

"I want to get you inside," he says. After that? He's really not so sure, but he'll figure something out.

(522w; baekyeol)
Being an escort in the last year of high school could seem like a lot of work but Baekhyun enjoyed it. Sometimes it would be bored business women who looks were average, but he could tell they used to be pretty or college students who had just broken up with their boyfriends. It didn’t matter because his rates were the same, except on weekends. He headed to the motel to meet up with his latest client, there was no name or special instructions so Baekhyun expected the usual. He was surprised to see a male in the room. He wasn’t against male customers, but they usually wanted two extremes either painfully feminine or outrageously masculine he was neither. “Hello.” Baekhyun said quietly, the guy waved.
“My girlfriend visited you. Last week she was wearing a blue dress with a white collar. I bought her that dress for her birthday.” Baekhyun stayed close to the door in case the other male decided to charge at him. He didn’t respond not wanting to cause himself any harm with a wrong answer. “She had the prettiest smile, did she ever smile at you?” This time the other turned to face him. Baekhyun nervously nodded ‘no’. “I just want to feel something. I want to know what you did to make her let go. We had been having troubles since a few months ago, but I didn’t think she would break up with me.” The man sounded as if he was crying and Baekhyun reached out hesitantly and pat his shoulder. The man grabbed his wrist and pulled him on to the bed. “Show me what you did to her. Do it to me.” Baekhyun isn’t sure who his girlfriend is exactly so he hesitantly asks. “What was her name?”” “Seoyoon.”
Baekhyun didn’t recall the girl but shrugged figuring she was a new customer. Instead he just pushed the man back on the bed and kissed him passionately. Using one hand to stroke him through his pants, the same way finger a girl through her panties. “You’re so pretty.” He whispered as he started unzipping the boys hoodie, trailing his lips down the newly exposed flesh. The same way he would unbutton a girl’s blouse. He pulled off his jeans and pushed his length against the other boys length. “Seoyoon liked to, you know.” The boy nodded before started to suck at the length. Baekhyun placed a hand on the back of his head forcing his face lower. He wondered if they guy had ever done something like this before because the blowjob was really good. But it wasn’t too long before he came in the guy’s mouth. “She swallowed.” He whispered watching the man. “That’s a good little bitch.” He added once he pulled out of his mouth.
“I really miss Gain.” The male sighed after they had finished. “You said her name was Seoyoon?” And in a flash the man exited the room. Baekhyun wondered if there was ever any girl or just a guy with a weird fetish. Either way it was a good round Baekhyun got to come and he got paid.

Joonmyun blinked several times, a futile attempt to see through the blood dripping steadily from a cut on his head. He wondered how long they'd had him here, and whether or not anyone had noticed yet that he was missing. Maybe Kai, he thought desperately. Although there was about as much chance of that as... As someone wondering where he was.

"I'm just saying that it's in your best interests to join us."

His wrists hurt, but he's not sure if it's because they hurt or if it's because he can't feel them anymore and he thinks they hurt. Whatever it was - it sucked.

Actually, all of him hurts, but his arms are definitely taking the brunt of it. And his ribs. Definitely a broken rib.

He twists his hand experimentally, wincing when the sharp edge of the zip-tie cuts into the bone of his wrist. His shoulders ache faintly from being held at odd angles behind him, and his back hurts because of the jagged edges of this unfinished construction pillar he's currently tied to, and his legs hurt because there was a bullet in each one. Wow, he'd really fucked this one up.

A sharp blow snapped his head to the side, and Joonmyun gasped.

"Focus." When the stars in front of his eyes clear enough for him to lift his head again, he sees it's the pretty faced one. He narrows his eyes.

"Keep trying," Joonmyun manages. At least they hadn't broken his jaw, yet.

To be quite fair, most of his injuries had been his fault. Getting hit by a truck (in an attempt to avoid being shot dead right then and there) couldn't be blamed on the team of assassins standing in front of him right now, but Joonmyun sure as hell wished it could.

"Lu Han."

Their leader, a baby faced guy who Joonmyun is pretty sure is not to be fucked around with, casts him a sharp look. Well, at least he has a name.

He has a few names. He knew about Tao, who'd developed a reputation working as an independent for years, given both his success, his style, and his age, or lack thereof. He also knew about Chen, who specialised in kills that could be blamed on natural causes. He'd known of them, but he hadn't necessarily known that he'd find them here. And he had no idea that their leader even existed. Nor did he know who the quiet guy sitting in the corner was, but he was somewhat grateful to him for bringing him water, and stopping the bleeding in his legs. Probably on orders, but Joonmyun didn't have much to be grateful for at the moment, and if he didn't focus on something that wasn't how much he wanted to fucking kill every single one of them, there was no chance that he was going to get out of this alive.

Lu Han nudges him with his foot - Joonmyun clamps down on his lip. Rib. Ow. Ow.

"Pretty," Joonmyun manages, glancing up at him. "Is that what they keep you around for?"

"Lu Han!"

Joonmyun is prepared for the blow that never comes. Quiet guy's voice is sharp, and amazingly, calls Lu Han to heel.

Their leader, Joonmyun notes, seems patiently exasperated, as if he were a kindergarten teacher or something equally inane. He could've been a kindergarten teacher, if it weren't for the gun sticking out of his pocket, among other things.

Joonmyun turns back to him.

"Look, I'm not going to join you, so you can stop trying."

"I don't think I was giving you a choice."

Joonmyun grimaces. That was a threat.

"But here's your choice - get paid, or do it for free. And if you're good at something, you should never do it for free."

with 8 mins left lol

---

Sehun counts the bills his last customer left for him and smiles when there’s even an extra 50 000won in the total. It is his first time with the man but he must have been very good as his customers seldom leave an extra tip unless they’re his regulars. But it is because Sehun knows that he’s good in bed that he takes up the job as a professional escort. Sehun is a firm believer that you need to charge for something you’re good at and it’s exactly what he’s doing; charging men who wants to sleep with him.

His phone goes off and it is the alarm reminding him of his next customer. There’s already a cab waiting and Sehun smiles at the concierge, handing him a little tip because Sehun is in a good mood as he makes his way to the next destination. Luckily the hotels are pretty close to each other so it gives him enough time to check his appearance in the toilet first before making his way up to the room number he was given. Customers don’t like to be reminded that Sehun was probably with other men just minutes ago so he always has to make sure he looks impeccable, not a hair out of place and to make sure his shirt is tucked into his pants. Sehun always dresses like he’s coming for a business meeting since most of the places he’s booked for are hotels known for exactly that—business meetings.

Sehun applies his lipgloss again, loving the way the light catches on the gloss. He’s taking a little more effort to prep himself because Mr Do is a regular customer and Sehun enjoys his company; he’s Sehun’s favourite but of course, that is not something he’ll admit.

awkwardly cut of but time /o\

lol

thanks anons! only 1 and half hours left!

Edited 2014-07-23 22:31 (UTC)

lol trying to rile up team lay

kdslfjaklrarghhhh anonnnnnnnnnnn this is so good ughhh

this is so sweet??????????????

team chen we're so close let's go go go

theme: scifi-ish, baekyeol vague never let me go au pt 1, 2678 words

Nausea roils up from his stomach and Chanyeol finds himself on his hands and knees, palms burning, heaving into the sand. He’d already disembarked and planted both feet firm on solid ground, but the sea sickness he’s been keeping at bay all morning finally overpowers him. Chanyeol’s always hated the beach: the feel of gritty earth beneath his feet, the scent of salt on the air. He’s ready to get as far away from the oceanfront as he can. He spits a final time, resisting the urge to flop onto his side and curl up. Pushing himself back to his feet, he grimaces at the small puke speckles adorning his once-spotless, cream button up. Rice is definitely a lot more pleasant going down than up. He brushes the sand clinging to his palms away.

Softly indented hands dig into his front pocket and pull out a gilded cigarette case. He extracts a brightly colored stick and lights up, trading one bad taste for another. At least smoke is comforting.

“Sir, you--you can’t smoke on the island?” The short man who’d introduced himself on the boat as Minseok wrings his hands, finally breaking the silence with a rule that comes out as more of a question than a statement. Chanyeol tilts his gaze downwards, taking another long drag before moving to exhale directly in the man’s face. Blue fabric billows as Minseok coughs, frantically fanning the air in front of his face.

“I own this island,” Chanyeol drawls. “I could set it on fire if I really wanted to.”

He drops the lit stick, not bothering to put out the fire. Minseok scrambles to tamp it out and swipe it from the ground, struggling to keep his face impassive.

“Well? Shall we?” Chanyeol asks. He eyes the grouping of low lying brown buildings visible through the trees.

**

The day is scorching. The light peeking through the trees is enough to cause the back of his neck to prickle with sweat. Chanyeol spares a thought for his skin, hoping it doesn’t become marred in red; he suddenly wishes his outfit included a hat.

The whole situation is surreal and dreamlike. In fact, the entire past year’s felt like a dream. Listlessly watching the days go by on milk cartons, however, has nothing on the letter he had received on his twentieth birthday revealing the true work-force behind his late parents’ successful clothing line. Also the fact that he, Park Chanyeol, actually owned hundreds of living, breathing replicas. The replicas may be genetically modified and sized down, but it doesn’t change the fact that they share DNA with some of the most wealthy people in the world.

The gravel path they’re following suddenly changes into dirt, and Chanyeol begins seeing his first glimpses of the small people clothed in brown habits. Abruptly, it hits him: almost every face he sees on this island was created from the DNA of someone else out in the world. The real world. His breathing goes shallow and he pushes his thoughts aside, trying to calm down.

“Didn’t you say the replicants are used to make clothing?” Chanyeol croaks out. “Why is everyone just walking about or sitting around chanting?” They walk across an open courtyard at the center of the compound and a chill works its way up his spine despite the heat.

“Today is their day of rest and worship,” Minseok responds with a shrug. He pauses a moment before turning around to lean in closer, voice lowered: “They may be modified to need less sleep and nourishment, but they’re still people. Did you really think we’d work them 24/7 with no breaks?”

“People,” Chanyeol mutters, the word sitting heavy on his tongue.

They continue making their way towards the hospital, and Chanyeol reviews some of the information Minseok had fed him on the boat ride over. The hospital’s a temple. The scientists are high monks. And he--Chanyeol--is an enlightened one. Easy enough. They reach the building and Chanyeol’s shoulders relax as a blast of cool air hits his body. Minseok leads him into a small room and gestures for him to take seat while he rounds the desk to perch opposite.

“Do you have any more questions?” the scientist asks, folding his arms over the desk before glancing at the wall clock. “Baekhyun will be here shortly to show you to your room.”

Chanyeol rears back with surprise. “Baekhyun? You give them names?” he trills, voice rising.

“Well, yes. All of the replicants are given a name. It makes things easier and we can’t very well call them Number Blah, Blah, Blah all of their lives.” Minseok eyes Chanyeol, as if suddenly uncertain that he won’t freak out when he comes face to face with a replicant.

“I see,” Chanyeol sighs, voice returning to a normal level. He crosses his legs and straightens his back. The two sit in silence, clock ticking, before he speaks again, hope barely evident in his tone. “And what of my parents’ replicants? The first ever made?” Chanyeol pauses. Then: “What of my own replicant?”

“Your replicant was used for your skin grafts. Your parents’ lives couldn’t be saved. My condolences. Their replicants were disposed of after their Phoenix Ceremony.” Chanyeol shudders, remembering the burns that covered 90% of his body.

“Disposed of? How? The letter you sent didn’t exactly go into detail.”

The pudgy man lets out a long sigh before answering. “All replicants are incinerated after their original dies and all of their usable parts are harvested.”

Chanyeol frowns. “I’m not sure I follow? What exactly is the point of the ceremony?”

Minseok sighs. “Wouldn’t it seem strange if your friends and neighbors just randomly disappeared? The ceremony is a way to explain the disappearances. Plus it gives the replicants something to work towards, a sense of purpose. After the ceremony, we put the replicants under and harvest them – nothing too inhumane. Don’t get attached in the time you’re here.”

Chanyeol scoffs. In an attempt to fully understand the workings of the island, he’d decided to spend three months getting to know the inner workings. There’s no way he was going to get attached to replicants. All he’s here for is business. That’s all.

Silence once again falls over the office and Chanyeol mulls over Minseok’s words. How fitting, that his parents’ replicants left this world in almost the same manner they did. A soft knock on the door brings him out of his musings with a start.

“He’s here,” Minseok tells him softly, before raising his voice. “Come in.”

The door creaks open and Chanyeol’s body tenses, eyes going wide. The door closes with a click behind the newcomer and Chanyeol heaves a breath before rising from his chair and turning slowly. His eyes fall on a shock of purple hair, and he can’t keep himself from gasping as the man straightens from his bow.

Pale skin pulls taut over small muscles that ripple with the slightest movement. A straight, rounded nose sits jauntily in between softly sloping eyes. He looks about the same age as Chanyeol. Most strikingly, though, his face holds none of the creases or weariness Chanyeol sees every time he looks at his own reflection in the mirror.

Chanyeol isn’t an ugly man. In fact, he is pretty damn near textbook handsome: a once hooked nose now narrow and straight, already light skin bleached until it glowed with a milky translucence, hair dyed a flattering hue meant to accentuate and brighten his dark eyes. Money’s made sure he’s the finest specimen he could be--but standing here, drinking in an organism created from modified DNA, Chanyeol feels inadequate. Chanyeol’s handsome, but this man is achingly beautiful. Bile rises steadily in the back of his throat and he’s suddenly glad he left the contents of his gut on the beach.

**

Chanyeol’s first night on the island is hell. The rooms are stuffy and the summer heat doesn’t dissipate at nightfall; uncomfortable warmth radiates from the ground as if the sun never left. He’s grateful he at least gets some modicum of privacy, even if he does have to share a room with Baekhyun, who’d explained that even this was a privilege; most people on the island had to sleep six to a room. After spending all day on the water, he’s so exhausted and overwhelmed that he barely has time to strip down his boxers before tumbling into bed.

The next morning Chanyeol awakens with a jolt, light streaming from the little window high up on the wall and directly hitting his face. Who thought a window without curtains was a good idea? He groans, covering his eyes with his arm. He’s about to drift back to sleep when the door bangs open against the wall. He sits up, startled.

Baekhyun’s standing at the threshold, a bundle of brown fabric in his arms. “You’re up. Perfect. Get dressed so we can head to the canteen.” He chucks the bundle at Chanyeol, who barely has time to catch to avoid getting socked in the face.

He takes the time to actually look around as he dresses. The room’s extremely basic: two meditation mats lie next to each other in the center of the room, a pair of pallets line the far wall, and a wash basin sits in the corner. He’s almost surprised the floors aren’t dirt.

Chanyeol dresses in record time as Baekhyun leans against the doorframe, examining his nails. The fabric is coarse and scratchy. Chanyeol feels like he’s wearing a dress. “Why do I have to wear this? I’m enlightened. Don’t I get to wear my own clothes?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “We wouldn’t want the other workers getting anxious. They’d never be able to relax and get work done if they knew one of the enlightened was among them.”

Baekhyun’s emphasis makes Chanyeol frown, but he decides to ignore it. “How come you’re not anxious?”

Baekhyun shrugs and steps out into the hallway. “You’re nothing special. We all get reborn one day.”

**

Chanyeol’s first few weeks on the island are the most tiring of his life. The work’s grueling. He’d expected to just oversee the replicants, but Baekhyun actually laughed in his face. “How can you expect to grasp the inner workings if you just sit back and watch? Even the children work.”

They wake at dawn every day before trudging down to the canteen for nutrient shakes. They spend the next several hours bent over low-laying tables, closely examining the stitching on finished garments before sending them off to the packing house. From there, they return to the canteen for their only solid meal of the day – some variant of vegetable, meat, and fruit – only to return to the quality check rooms until the sun dips below the horizon and they break for nightly meditation.

Any complaints Chanyeol has are quieted halfway through his fourth week when Baekhyun, tired of his whining, leads them left instead of right when leaving the canteen.

“Where are we going, Baekhyun? Are we ditching work?”

“You wish.”

They walk in silence after that, following the flow of other workers. Chanyeol is a good head taller than even the tallest replicant and Baekhyun wants to laugh at the sight of his large head bobbing above a sea of smaller ones.

Unfortunately for Chanyeol, Baekhyun leads them to the sewing rooms. Not only does he still have to bend his huge frame over for the entire day, but he also continuously pricks his fingers with a needle. By the end of it, Chanyeol’s ready to cry. His fingers are puffed up and swollen to twice their normal size. When they get back to their room, he doesn’t even bother pretending to meditate, just throws himself onto his pallet and watches as Baekhyun gracefully kneels on his pillow.

Chanyeol’s mouth runs dry at the dipping curve of Baekhyun’s spine as he touches his head to the floor. The other man is still so beautiful in everything he does.

The low murmur of Baekhyn’s chanting fills the room. Chanyeol leans back and brings his fingers in front of his face, blowing air on them as if that’ll make them magically stop throbbing.

At the end of the hour, Baekhyun straightens back up and leaves the room without a word. He comes back fifteen minutes later with a small jar and heads straight to Chanyeol’s pallet, kneeling beside him. Chanyeol gasps as Baekhyun grabs his wrist, bringing his fingers up to his face to closely examine them. Baekhyun’s usually so brusque and no-nonsense: . The sudden tenderness catches Chanyeol off guard.

Even in the dim light of the single bulb in the ceiling, Chanyeol can see Baekhyun wince as he studies how red and abused Chanyeol’s hands are. He lightly traces the pad of Chanyeol’s index finger. “Who knew a pretty boy millionaire like you could work so hard?” Chanyeol wants to yank his hand back, but he’s frozen. Baekhyun’s hands feel like they belong on him.

That night he dreams of the small, plum-haired man:

Chanyeol slips his hands into Baekhyun’s back pocket as they walk, the river on their right reflecting soft moonlight and the sand dunes to their left gleaming in sunlight. They walk in silence, the path before them winding and stretching endlessly. Baekhyun’s face scrunches up and he begins wiggling to dislodge the fingers rubbing lazy patterns on his ass. “Your hands are too warm,” he whines. “It’s getting sweaty back there.” He tilts his head to pout at Chanyeol. Unfortunately, the cutesy expression he’s so carefully crafted swiftly crumbles as he looks directly into the sun. Chanyeol throws his head back in laughter, pulling Baekhyun even closer as they continue to walk. His hand’s still lodged firmly in Baekhyun’s pocket.

**

Chanyeol skips work, a bowl of soup clutched in trembling hands. Baekhyun hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning, begging off sick. Chanyeol had tried to send him to the infirmary, but Baekhyun waved him off, insisting that it wasn’t anything a little sleep couldn’t fix. “Go to work, Chanyeol,” he’d croaked out, before rolling over to face the wall and effectively ending the conversation.

Chanyeol has never been one to just ignore a sick person. When his parents were still alive, he’d always be the one staying home from school when one of them fell ill while the other parent continued to work. All the walls and thick-skinned façades he had built since their deaths quickly crumpled after meeting Baekhyun.

He reaches the door to their room and nearly drops the soup at the muffled sobs coming through the door. Something in his chest clenches. He slowly opens the door. To his shock, Baekhyun is curled up on Chanyeol’s bed, tightly clutching Chanyeol’s pillow to his chest.

Chanyeol sets the bowl next to the door and quietly approaches the sobbing mess collapsed on the bedding. Baekhyun doesn’t even flinch when Chanyeol sits down next to his head and runs his palm along Baekhyun’s spine in soothing circles. He just turns over and buries his face in Chanyeol’s lap. When he’s finally calmed down he sits up and glares at the ground.

Chanyeol can’t help but think he’s even pretty when he cries.

“Feeling better?” It’s a stupid question when Baekhyun’s eyes are still glassy witht ears, but Chanyeol feels the need to say something. Anything. Baekhyun opens his mouth like he wants to respond, but promptly snaps it shut again.

Chanyeol moves closer, placing his face in the direct line of Baekhyun’s vision. His eyes reflect so much misery and it’s like a slap in the face, a reminder of all that Chanyeol has. All the things the replicants will never have. Baekhyun’s rough fingers reach up, like he wants to trace the ridge of Chanyeol’s cheekbone, but they stutter to a stop an inch short. Chanyeol squeezes them in his own before Baekhyun can retract them again. He leans forward, and bridges the distance between them, capturing Baekhyun’s lips in his own.

no you're not lol

what's the difference right now?

booobiess why are you doing this to me anon ;;

who cares lol team lay is in the lead

100 give or take a little

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Page 45 of 202

part two hundred and twenty one

Re: [team chen] taochen mafia au 389 w

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team lay

team zxy - yixing + hooker baek - 1101w

team chen

team lay, 634 w,

team chen

Re: team lay, 634 w,

lmao zyx* sry bro

298 words

STOP!

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Re: [team chen] taochen mafia au 389 w

Re: team zxy - yixing + hooker baek - 1101w

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wc!au: team lay - bkyl

collapse

bkyl

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Re: wc!au: team chen

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