Of Fake Smiles and Broken Hearts

thirty two

There are good days.

On days like this, Kyungsoo goes to a bistro downtown to sing. He sings ballads with Baekhyun and maybe get a few drinks or so. The first time they went there was a few months ago when Minseok had told them about the place. It was an open mic night and all he could do when he was pushed in the center of the stage was to choke out a small, almost shy greeting. But then he couldn't see anything but himself—like he was staring at his reflection in a mirror. He held the microphone against his chest like he was afraid that someone was going to take it away from him.

People had always whispered how he couldn't do it; no matter how much he tried he'll always be the guy who sings—but never the singer or the idol he dreamt to be.

He took a deep breath and held the microphone like his life had depended on it. He stopped singing in front of people when he was young. He was too afraid that they we're right about him—that he was just some kid who liked singing but was never good enough to be noticed. He'll never be good enough for the society's eyes—never was and never will. He sang when he was in the shower; with his hair soaked under the spray of warm water trickling down his smooth skin. He sang when he was sure that he was alone. He sang—yet it didn't seem to be enough. But that night, he did it. The words rolled off his tongue perfectly. It was uncertain at first, curious yet daring; scared but not stopping. That night, he sung in front of many people who did nothing but to look with their heart. The song ended and the crowd clapped at his performance—and Kyungsoo smiled, because he knew that they were wrong about him.

But there were also bad days.

It meant black coffee placed meticulously over a coaster. Bad days means empty stares, choked sobs of 'I miss him' and thoughts of a brighter future that might not even come true. Bad days meant blades and pills stacked on his bedside table. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't find it in him to put the razor blade against his skin. He wanted to get better for the people around him—for himself.

"Hey, do you want me to cook something for lunch or should we eat someplace else to save time? Chanyeol said that he'll come with us to the psych ward after his shift." Kyungsoo asks, eyes glued to the recipe written on his phone. He doesn't bother to look up until Baekhyun clears his throat, eyebrows knitted together in concern. Kyungsoo puts his foot over the other and pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose, quirking an eyebrow.

Baekhyun grabs the keys on top of the table. He stands behind the door awkwardly, holding the metal knob as his back grazes over the wood. He looks as if he wanted to bolt out of the house as quick as possible. He glances over his wristwatch and grimaces back at Kyungsoo who was looking at him like he had grown three heads. "I can't come. I have something to do."

With this, the red-head puts his phone aside. He crosses his arms over his chest like a mother scolding her son for going out with his friends at such hour. "Is it important? I could tell Ryeowook that I won't be able to attend the group discussion to accompany you. Maybe Chanyeol could—"

"No!" Baekhyun yells. The loudness of his voice had shocked the both of them and he looks at his feet embarrassingly, voice turning softer as he speaks. "I could handle it. I just need to take care of this—I'll try to come if I can, okay? I just—it's important."

Kyungsoo frowns but he clicks his tongue and turns his attention back to his phone as he speaks. "If it's not too troublesome, could you pick Asher from Jongdae's? I need to swing by the bistro to talk to some people."

"Yeah, sure. Bye!" Baekhyun barely looks at him before dashing out of the house, taking out his phone only to see eight messages all from the same person. He glares at the screen before deciding to open the text message but before he could, another one pops up. He hisses in frustration, regretting why on Earth he bothered to ask Sehun for his number. The messages were short and abrupt—like the sender was on the verge of fainting when he sent them. It all contains the same message asking where he was. Baekhyun browses through his contact list and calls him instead. It took a couple of rings before a hoarse voice took over the other line.

"Asshole," The man on the other line says. Baekhyun opens the door to the driver's seat and steps inside his car. He chuckles as he starts the ignition and the machine roared to life. He hears loud voices on the other end—words overlapping one another and timbre of voices of a variety. It doesn't make sense to him and he could barely hear himself talk.

"I'll be there in about half an hour so you could go explore. I'm on my way. Don't be a cranky little shit." He responds. He holds the device close to his ears by putting it between his cheeks and shoulder. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he looks at the rearview mirrors, hand placed over the headrest of the seat beside him for support as he maneuvers the car out of the garage.

"I never liked you." The voice on the other end says; sounding exasperated.

"I'm honored." Baekhyun replies as he fumbles with his seatbelt that he forgot to put on earlier. "See you later, Jongin."

-

BONUS deleted (supposed ending part but it's too inappropriate) scene from this chapter:

"I never liked you." The voice on the other end says; sounding exasperated.

"I'm honored." Baekhyun replies as he fumbles with his seatbelt that he forgot to put on earlier. "Go explore. I don't want you to die from boredom when I get there."

There was a groan on the other line. "Explore my ass. There's nothing to see."

"I can't explore your ass, Jongin. Chanyeol wouldn't like that."

A scandalous gasp.

"What the actual fuck, Baekhyun?"

"I can't do that either."