Chanel's Fics

Make A Day Feel Like A Minute - Baekyeol

MAKE A DAY FEEL LIKE A MINUTE

Summary: Chanyeol doesn’t want to ‘get to know’ the guy who comes to every show dressed in a bright gold jacket and carrying a glittery sign with Chanyeol’s name on it. Except, well, he kind of does. (It is a bitchin’ jacket.)

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PART 1

Chanyeol's hair sticks to his face in the oppressive heat of the club. The summer is humid, and it's stifling down in the basement of MACHINE, where Heavy Noize plays their weekly gigs in front a packed crowd. Chanyeol wishes they could play in a place that has air conditioning, but he supposes beggars can’t be choosers.

"A man could fry under these lights," Chanyeol says, and Kyungsoo nods, wide eyes taking in their excited, mostly drunk audience. Kyungsoo, Chanyeol thinks, is not the sort of guy you expect to find in this sort of band. He’s got the sort of naivety in his expression that makes him look more like a kid playing dress-up than any sort of true rebel. “I feel like an anti-drug commercial. Fried ‘eggs’.”

“This is your brain,” Suho says. “And this is your brain on drugs.”

“Despite appearances, we’re thankfully not that sort of band,” Chanyeol says. “I’ve got classes to pass.”

“Don’t we all,” Kyungsoo says. “Some of us are pre-med.”

“I can see it now,” Suho says, before he clasps his hands in front of him like a soap opera actress. “Dr. Do, why are you looking at me like that? Am I about to die?!”

“That’s just how my eyes are,” Kyungsoo says, but Sehun clears his throat.

"That guy's here again," Sehun says, narrowing his eyes out at the audience as he tunes his bass. "The one with all the shiny clothes. Gold Jacket Guy." His slight lisp whistles over the consonants. “Chanyeol, do you pay him to come?”

"I swear I don't know him," Chanyeol says, drinking his room-temperature water and gargling it. His throat’s a little sore. He's had to carry the main weight of the low-range vocals ever since Kris had left to join up with his other band on a more regular basis, and Chanyeol's vocal chords are paying the price.

He looks out into the crowd, and sure enough, he spots the guy, with his reddish hair a few shades darker than Chanyeol's own (and infinitely better conditioned, if Chanyeol's honest with himself), and that glittery gold jacket that makes Chanyeol simultaneously feel curious about where he bought it and like he might be having a seizure.

"I think he wants to know you, though," Suho says, and he tugs on the neck of his gray t-shirt. It's sticking to his chest with sweat down here in the sauna that passes as their favorite venue, but Suho seems mostly unfazed, the teasing expression on his face only made more annoying under the outdated stage lights. "If you know what I mean." Waggling eyebrows complete the innuendo, and to his horror, Chanyeol can feel the faint beginnings of a blush, and he can’t stop himself from playing with his hands, twisting his fingers around each other to dispel excess energy.

"I have no clue what you mean," Chanyeol says firmly, averting his eyes. He tries to find a safe point in the crowd, but his eyes keep gravitating back to that eyesore of a jacket, and Chanyeol scowls. "Do you know what he means, Kyungsoo?"

"I never know what anyone means," Kyungsoo says. "It's safer that way."

"Hey Eggs," Kai says, hopping up onto the stage with a cup of ice, "the pretty boy with the hots for you is in the audience again."

"Ugh, stop," Chanyeol says, but he can't help but snicker, because really, who is Kai to talk about someone being a pretty boy? "I don't care. Everyone thinks I’m attractive, because I am. There’s nothing special about that."