Cigarettes ➵ Baekyeol

Three

Chanyeol's P.O.V

It's rather chilly outside today, and I get dressed quickly, hoping to leave faster than yesterday.

Before leaving my bedroom I can't help but glance up at the picture of Baekhyun, for some reason the thought of that midget just makes me happy.

I'd rather not discover why.

As I pass my parents bedroom I'm stopped by a cough and my
father's voice.

"Chanyeol. Come over here."

I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing that there was no such thing as a happy moment in this broken home anymore.

I spin around to meet my father's shallow eyes, knowing that what would come next would be nothing more than painful insults.

"Y-yeah, dad?" I ask slowly, feeling anxious in the presence of the man who's supposed to be my father.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never in all my years did I imagine that my son would grow up to be such a useless faggot."

I clench my fists, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Never did I imagine my father would turn info a fat, worthless excuse for a human."

I whisper my last sentence, trying not to anger him further but unable to hold back my words.

"What the hell did you just say to me?"

Oh god, he heard me. My eyes widen, and I stutter my response.

"N-nothing.."

"How dare you talk to me that way, you little shit!"

He screams, getting up and grabbing me by the wrist.

I attempt to shake myself free, sprinting through my home.

I'm pursued by my father and I barely make it out the door as he screams angrily for me to come back.

Once I've made it around the block I collapse on the concrete, burying my face in my hands.

Begrudgingly I pick myself up, dusting dirt off of my ripped up jeans and trailing down the street in the direction of the school.

Baekhyun's P.O.V

I wake up at 4:00 a.m, which is a weird habit of mine.

Once my brain gets working its like I can't stop, and my mind trails to various places from space to Park Chanyeol.

Speaking of which, I still haven't been able to figure out what the hell happened yesterday.

I mean, I haven't had many encounters with Chanyeol, and the ones I have had were mostly filled with death glares for no reason.

That one sentence is playing on repeat in my head, and I can't stop thinking about how his deep voice sounded happy, or the way his plump lips formed that adorable little smile;

"You should smile more, it looks good on you."

I've read a lot of books, seen a lot of movies, written a lot of essays, composed a lot of songs, and yet never, in the entirety of my existence have I ever heard a sentence that perplexed me more than that one.

I stare at the cream of my ceiling, my hair falling in curls around my face.

I hum along to the tune of Hey Jude by The Beatles, a song that has long been my favorite.

"Hey jude, don't make it bad.. Take a sad song, and make it better."

For some reason a certain boy with dark eyes and silver hair pops into my head at the sound of those lyrics.

The clock ticks on, and before I know it it's time for me to get up.

I place my feet gently on the ground, the feeling of soft carpet squishing between my toes feels familiar and weirdly comforting.

I walk over to my closet, yawning as I do so.

I pull out a cream-colored knit sweater, pulling it on along with some jeans and a pair of converse.

I do my hair, something that's kind of embarrassing- but I like my hair significantly more when it's straightened.

I walk downstairs and out the door, grabbing my skateboard and heading to school.

Chanyeol's P.O.V

The crowd chants my name as I land a final blow to my 'opponents' head, watching in a strangest kind of satisfaction as he crumples below my feet.

I flex my arms, walking through the dissipating crowd and into the school building.

Occasionally there will be someone who "challenges" me, which is essentially always a mistake.

It gets tiring on a lot, but I guess people would think I'm going soft if I don't accept.

Much like yesterday, the day passes by slowly, filled with cigarettes and glances from strangers.

Unlike the last two days, I arrive at the library after Baekhyun, and when I get there he's sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

When he sees me he tilts his head to the side with a small smile, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

I make my way over to him, sitting on the floor beside Baekhyun.

"What's up, midget?"

Baekhyun giggles, and it's a strangely familiar feeling, making someone laugh.

It's kind of like déjà vu, in the weirdest of ways.

"Nothing much, giant. I heard you beat someone up again."

I sigh before responding.

"You heard correctly."

"Well that's beside the point, for now we have to do something incredibly exciting.. math!"

He says somewhat sarcastically.

He reaches into his bag, pulling out the textbook that I cringe at the very sight of.

Baekhyun turns to a certain page, passing me the book.

"Here you go. Try to do as many of these as possible. I will stand by and provide moral support and help."

As he passes the books to me, our hands touch momentarily, even if only for a second.

My cheeks burn red, and I look down in utter embarrassment.

What the hell is this kid doing to me?

Whenever I'm with Baekhyun I get this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, it's comforting and makes me forget about everything wrong in my life.

And it's a feeling that I would like to continue having, for as long as possible.

A/N: Hello everybody! It's me, your humble author. Just wanted to leave a note because I haven't left one on this story yet. I've planned this whole book, so hopefully it can be finished soon enough :D I'll try to update at least once every few days, although I'm sure I will be updating it almost once a day, because I'm trash and I freaking live for Baekyeol. I hope you're enjoying this story so far, thanks for reading -Liv