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fic advent: day fourteen
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one_if_by_land ♥
kris/baekhyun/chanyeol, baekhyun/chanyeol
pg, 3.8k words (WHY)
au. "someone feeling like a third-wheel".
one_if_by_land ♥kris/baekhyun/chanyeol, baekhyun/chanyeol
pg, 3.8k words (WHY)
au. "someone feeling like a third-wheel".
The moment that Baekhyun slides into the frame, wrapping his small arms around Chanyeol's chest and pushing his face into Chanyeol's throat, Yifan's heart sinks. Chanyeol turns towards him immediately, his smile radiant even through the shitty webcam stream, and Yifan steels himself for the inevitable. “Come to bed,” he hears Baekhyun whisper, his delicate fingers splayed across Chanyeol's belly.
“Gotta go,” Chanyeol says, a flush spreading across his cheeks as Baekhyun's hand slides lower. Yifan swallows and reminds himself to look unaffected. They're his best friends, this is nothing new. Still, his stomach lurches.“Same time next week?” He leans towards the laptop, and over his shoulder, Baekhyun waves his fingers at him, eyes alight. “We miss you!”
He doesn't wait for a reply. The screen goes black and Yifan throws himself backwards in his bed, dragging a hand through his hair and sighing. “I miss you too,” he mutters, and his chest burns.
This promotion was supposed to be a good thing. And it still is, without a doubt. Overseeing the establishment of the Vancouver office is a big deal, a job that he's honoured to have. It means a big step up in prestige, and not to mention pay.
Thing is, it's a bit lonely. If he's not asleep, he's in the office, working from sun-up til long after it's dark again. He hasn't even really had the chance to go out and see the city. His coworkers are nice enough, but none of them have reached out, and if Yifan is honest, neither has he. He misses Seoul. He misses his best friends most of all.
University in Korea was almost a whim. He had mostly wanted to get away from home, and Seoul seemed like a pretty good bet, considering he had to fly to get there. It'd been intimidating, but lucky for him, he'd gotten assigned a roommate who was aggressively friendly and under the delusion that Yifan was somehow super cool.
Meeting Chanyeol, and by association Baekhyun, was probably the best thing that had come out of college for him. Yifan has a lot of memories from that time, late nights and study sessions that somehow turned into ordering pizza and watching bad romcoms (Baekhyun's idea, but Yifan had a secret weakness for them). He remembers one morning, waking up in Chanyeol's bed after some adventure. Chanyeol's feet were in his face, the rest of his long, lean body draped off the bed and his head under a pillow. Baekhyun was curled up against his back, drooling against Yifan's shoulder. He was missing a stats class and he could feel his hangover rolling in, but somehow, he felt completely content.
Yifan counts himself lucky that the two of them have pretty much stuck around since then. He's been with them through graduation, job-hunting, and since they made the first tentative steps into a relationship.
That, if Yifan is honest with himself, had been one of the hardest things he's done. Through college, they'd been an unbreakable unit, the three of them going everywhere and doing everything together. It was a comfortable, easy dynamic; Yifan could count on Baekhyun to go shopping with, Chanyeol was always game for a round of video games, and if he couldn't find one, he could just look for the other.
So when they'd started inching together, this slow, inevitable progression that started with furtive clasped hands and those long adoring looks, it had stung. Yifan had to keep reminding himself that he is an adult. Jealousy over friends hanging out seemed like a petty, childish emotion, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel it rising up in him every time he called Chanyeol to hang out, only to find that they'd already made plans, just the two of them.
The moment he knew he couldn't deny it was the moment he walked in on them at a New Year's party. They were all pleasantly drunk, and Baekhyun had announced that his drink was empty. Clearly, he needed to rectify that, and Chanyeol trailed after him into the kitchen. Even with the hubbub of the party and the noise the rest of their friends were making, Yifan could tell that they were taking far more time than was necessary, so he decided to go check in on them.
The sight that greeted him stopped him dead, fingers tightening on his cheap plastic cup. Baekhyun had Chanyeol backed up against the counter, one hand gripping the front of his shirt to pull him down. The way that they were kissing was intimate and slow – this was clearly not a one-off occasion. Chanyeol's fingers opened and closed fitfully at Baekhyun's hips and he was making tiny pleased noises in response to the way that Baekhyun licked into his mouth and stroked a hand up his ribs.
It took a few seconds, but Chanyeol finally spotted him over Baekhyun's head and he straightened in a rush, looking like a deer in headlights. “Yifan,” he said, breathless. There was something burning in Yifan's chest, making his throat tight and his hands shake.
“Sorry,” Yifan said immediately, automatically. This was not a moment that was meant to be shared, and he'd stumbled in on it, ruined it. “I didn't mean to...interrupt.”
Baekhyun shook his head as he pulled away from Chanyeol. Yifan couldn't help the way that his eyes caught on his hand, now curled into the hem of Chanyeol's shirt. Yifan's gut churned in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “No, we should be sorry,” Baekhyun told him, and the guilt was painted on his face. Yifan couldn't decide if that was better, or worse. “We should've told you.”
Yifan seized on that as the reason for the ache in his ribcage. It's the secrets kept, he thought. That must be it. He considered his words carefully before he spoke again. “It's cool,” he said. He'd thought about being mad at them, but what would that accomplish? They're his closest friends. If this made them happy, then he should be happy for them. “I'll just, uh, grab a drink.”
It was weak, and he knew it, and they were both watching him, wary. He was too drunk to deal with it right then, with their tangled up hands and the way their eyes were trained on him. Tomorrow was a new day, a new year, and maybe he could figure it all out then.
When he threw himself down on the couch again next to Yixing, he looked up at him curiously. “Something wrong?” he asked quietly. Yifan shrugged and shook his head. Even if he'd wanted to talk about it, he wasn't sure he knew what he'd even say.
Of course, it wasn't any easier the next day, or the next year, as Baekhyun and Chanyeol fell almost effortlessly into their relationship. He'd thought, before, that there was something inevitable about the way the two of them had gravitated towards each other, and that only became clearer as they started to become more open about their relationship. Baekhyun fit so naturally under Chanyeol's arm, and Chanyeol had always turned towards Baekhyun like a flower towards the sun. Yifan wonders how he never saw it before.
Maybe it was wilful blindness. He's not stupid. He knew what it was, the reason his stomach rolled sickeningly when Baekhyun crooked a finger and Chanyeol laughed and came, without hesitation, their faces lit up and so happy. Yifan's really never been all that great at disguising what he's thinking, but he became practiced at swallowing down the increasingly familiar ache. For someone that was bigger than the two of them, Yifan felt somehow small and forgotten.
Still, it wasn't like they excluded him. Their old patterns persisted. Movie night, every week, the three of them sprawled out on Yifan's couch in front of some old cheesy romance. Except now, when Yifan turned to whisper something snarky to Baekhyun, he found him curled into Chanyeol's lap, neither of them even looking at the screen. The worst part is, Yifan doesn't even know what part is setting off that burn in his heart, Chanyeol's hand fitted possessively around Baekhyun's hip, or the smile that Baekhyun seemed to have only for Chanyeol. And that made this a whole new flavour of mess.
By the fall, when the position in Vancouver opened up, Yifan was about ready to go. He was sick of pull in his chest, the wanting he had to keep pushing down. It seemed like a good idea, until he dragged his suitcase into the little rented apartment that was to be his home for the next six months. It was plain, sparsely furnished, and when he sank down at the little dining room table, he felt incredibly lonely.
It's hardly improved, since then. Yifan keeps the apartment neat, clothes carefully away, dishes washed after every meal. He's gone out to eat a handful of times with colleagues, but he's never had anyone over to visit. Dinner is a lonely affair for Yifan, and if he's honest, the highlight of his week is usually when he checks the clock on Sunday morning and slides behind his laptop for his weekly call to Chanyeol and Baekhyun.
Talking to his best friends is a double-edged sword. He misses them, of course he does, and getting to catch up with them always soothes away the weariness he feels from work. He sits back and lets Baekhyun chatter about his weekly clients, listens to Chanyeol tell outlandish tales about the customers who walk into his store. It's familiar, and it feels like home, and that's something that Yifan appreciates when he's so far away.
Then again, it always brings back that wanting. Seeing their smiles, always casual hands on each other, it makes Yifan want to crawl through the screen and slide between them. He knows he can't have that, he knows that it's wrong to want it, but that doesn't mean that he knows how to shake off the dull throb in his chest whenever they say 'we miss you'. He misses them too, but it's not the same way. It's never the same way.
There are only two more weeks before Yifan is headed home, back to Seoul. Upper management has, of course, been dropping hints that they'd like him to stay in Vancouver and keep up the good work, and it's tempting. Over here, he isn't reminded daily of what he doesn't have by the sight of Chanyeol and Baekhyun, head over heels for each other. That feels a lot like running away, though, and something about that seems cowardly. Is he so petty that he would run away from the happiness of his friends?
Once again, Yifan rubs at his eyes and sighs. He has to get over this childish jealousy. It's certainly not making his life any easier. He reaches out one long arm and closes his laptop with a slap. Timezones, he thinks. That's the reason for this headache. Not the pull in his chest that aches so badly he feels like he left a vital part of him back on the other side of the planet.
His phone trills, rattling against his bedside table. goodnight, duizhang! sleep well. Baekhyun. Yifan doesn't bother to reply, just lets his phone slip from his hands, and stares at the ceiling. He wonders if Seoul misses him too.
-
The first thing Yifan sees when he gets into the airport is a ridiculous, brightly coloured sign waving over the heads of the crowd. Underneath it is Chanyeol's enormous, equally ridiculous grin. Warmth floods Yifan and he picks up his pace, the jetlag from the flight melting away as he pushes his way through the people to where they stand. Baekhyun is the first to greet him, winding his arms around Yifan's waist to pull him into a fast, tight hug. “Welcome home,” he says.
Chanyeol doesn't even give Baekhyun a second to pull away, just lunges at the both of them, wrapping them in his long arms. “Did you bring me anything?” he asks, his mouth at Yifan's ear. For a second, Yifan is overwhelmed by it all, by the way he can feel Baekhyun's laughter vibrate against his chest and Chanyeol's radiant smile. Mostly, though, it's the way that neither of him are letting him go.
“Alright, alright,” Yifan says finally, reluctantly, and Chanyeol takes a step back, far enough to give Baekhyun a chance to breathe and escape being crushed against Yifan's chest. “I brought you both souvenirs.” Chanyeol's eyes instantly light up, and Yifan holds up a hand. “No way, first, I'm going home, and I'm showering, and then maybe, if you're lucky, you'll get a present.”
Chanyeol groans and tugs Yifan's suitcase out of his hand, but Yifan doesn't have a second to complain. Baekhyun is hooking his arm through his and dragging him after Chanyeol. It's back again, that conflicting feeling, like he's being pulled in two directions. “We missed you,” Baekhyun tells him, and when he tips his head up to smile at him, Yifan swallows hard.
“It's good to be back,” Yifan replies. Walking between the two of them, Baekhyu pressed against against his side as Chanyeol leads them to their car, Yifan's feels like his heart is being squeezed in his chest. Home sweet home.
-
At least he has work, Yifan supposes. It's easy enough to fall back into his old routines here at home. He's not sure it's better here, but it's familiar, and there's something to be said about familiarity. His apartment feels like someone lives there, and more importantly, he has his friends within arms reach to bring him coffee at work to break up his day.
Yifan raises his head when he hears a knock at the door. “Hot and black,” Baekhyun says, raising the coffee cup. “Just like your soul.” He's not dolled up, the way he normally is during a shift at the salon, so Yifan assumes he's got the day off.
“You're a blessing,” Yifan tells him, accepting the coffee gratefully. Of course, he could drink the stuff in office coffee machine, but Yifan is somewhat convinced that it's brewed from motor oil. “What brings you to my corner of hell?”
Baekhyun claims the seat across from Yifan, squirming down into the expensive leather and making himself comfortable. “What?” he asks, the picture of innocence. Years of experience have taught Yifan not to trust that sweet smile. There is something, though, behind Baekhyun's carefully casual posture. Yifan finds it in the way that his hands flutter in his lap and the nervous bob of his throat. “Can't I just drop by to say hello to a friend? We have six months to catch up on, after all.”
Yifan doesn't dignify that with a response. He just regards Baekhyun for a long moment over his coffee, eyebrows raised.
He doesn't immediately answer. Baekhyun's resistance to Yifan's stare has always been higher than Chanyeol's. After several long minutes, Yifan is about ready to turn back to the paperwork he has to finish, but Baekhyun speaks. “We missed you, you know?” His words are careful, measured, and they feel heavy.
“I missed you too,” Yifan replies. “Of course. You're my best friends.”
Baekhyun straightens up slowly, shifting until he's sitting on the edge of the chair, back straight. “No,” he says. “Not like – ” He takes a breath, starts again. “When you were gone, it felt like. Like something was missing.”
Tension winds through Yifan's chest. He closes the folder in front of him and wills his heart to slow. “What do you mean?” he asks. He can't tell if it's hope or dread that's seeping through his gut.
Brows furrowing in frustration, Baekhyun bites his lip, tries a different tack. “Okay,” he says, and he drags the chair over to Yifan's desk. He grabs a sheet of paper and is sketching on it before Yifan can stop him and tell him that's part of a finance report he needs to submit by this afternoon. “Look.” He draws out a triangle, roughly equilateral, with three distinct dots at each point. “These are us,” he says. He points at each in turn. “You, me, Chanyeol.” He covers the lines joining Yifan to the other two. “This is what it was like when you were gone.” His eyes flick up to meet Yifan's and Yifan clenches his hands, hidden beneath his desk. His heart ricochets off his ribs and he struggles to keep his breathing even. He can't let himself hope. He won't. “That's not a whole picture. That's a line. That's not a shape.”
“What are you saying?” Yifan asks, and his voice is rough, unsteady. His eyes are fixed on Baekhyun's, and Baekhyun stares back, unflinching. Yifan can't find the words to ask, to make this real, and Baekhyun seems hesitant to spell it out any further, so Yifan backs off. “I don't understand.”
Baekhyun sighs, but he smiles. “You should talk to Chanyeol,” he suggests as he climbs to his feet. “Maybe he can explain it better than I can.” He reaches out and curls delicate fingers into Yifan's, squeezing once. “I'll see you later.”
He slips out, and Yifan watches him wave a quick goodbye to his assistant before the door slides shut. His heart is ping-ponging around his ribcage and his hands are closed into fists so tight that his knuckles hurt. He feels unsteady, like someone replaced his solid office flooring with the rolling deck of a ship, and he doesn't trust himself to get up.
The rest of his day is spent hidden in his office, appointments cancelled, phone on mute. He needs to finish compiling his report on his term in Vancouver but instead of going over numbers he finds himself with one piece of paper in his hand, staring down at a triangle with equal sides. He can't fight the feeling that this is too good to be true.
-
When Yifan comes home to Chanyeol sprawled across his couch, TV blaring some horrible sitcom, he can't help but feel a bit like he's being ambushed. He carefully unties his shoes and puts them away before he even comes into the livingroom. Chanyeol lifts his head immediately, hauling himself upright and pasting on a smile. Yifan can see right through it, it's too wide, too tense, and his stomach lurches. “I still have your spare,” Chanyeol explains, and Yifan nods. Of course.
“So you just decided to invite yourself to dinner?” he asks. Yifan is a competent cook, not stellar, but Chanyeol is a disaster. It's always better for everyone's sake if he doesn't get too close to a stove.
“Something like that,” Chanyeol agrees. He scrambles to his feet, trailing after Yifan as he heads to his bedroom to put away his things. “Listen, I. You talked to Baekhyun, right?”
Yifan's back is to Chanyeol as he loosens his tight, and he stiffens. “Yeah,” he replies. “Something about geometry and puzzles.”
He regrets his flippant tone as soon as he turns around and sees Chanyeol, shoulders hunched. “Oh,” he says. “So you. Did you figure it out?” He's so nervous, twitchy and wide eyed, and Yifan shucks off his suit jacket.
He takes a step towards Chanyeol almost automatically, and then he stops himself. “Do you mean, did we figure things out? Or are you asking me if I understood Baekhyun's code about triangles and missing pieces?”
“If you want,” Chanyeol says, and Yifan can see the moment when he steels himself, standing straighter. “If you want, we can be something. All three of us.”
It's all so heavy, and Yifan's mouth is dry. He struggles to catch his breath. “What?” he asks weakly. It all seems unreal. He can tell, though, that it's reality, by the faint shadow of stubble on one side of Chanyeol's jaw and the stain on his own cuff, coffee from this morning. “You – ?”
Chanyeol nods firmly. “It's not. What Baekhyun and I have, it's nice, but.” He shrugs a shoulder. “With you, it'd be better. It'd be so much better.”
It's a good thing that Yifan's bed is right there, because he sits down in a rush, his head spinning. Hope roars in his ears. “Can I think about it?” he asks.
It hurts, the way that Chanyeol wilts, but he recovers. He's an optimist, Yifan knows. His smile, this time, is stronger, brighter. It's not a no, after all. “Of course,” Chanyeol agrees, without hesitation. He steps forward, hesitant, and rests his hand against Yifan's arm. “We'll be waiting.”
That night, Yifan is too distracted to properly cook. He even burns the rice and he ends up scrapping it all, throwing the half cooked meal in the garbage and climbing into bed early.
This time, there was nothing ambiguous about what Baekhyun and Chanyeol were asking him. That knowledge, that certainty, it made Yifan's breath catch in his throat. No matter how long he'd spent watching and wanting, he had never once considered that this was an actual possibility, a path that they could actually go down.
The idea itself is risky, he knows. Putting another person into the equation throws all the math off. It multiplies the complications. Yifan can see it now, the dozens of tiny little things that could chip away at all of them, make it fall apart.
And then, Yifan thinks about the positives. He thinks about that warm happy feeling he gets just from being around the two of them. If there was anything that his stint in Vancouver had taught him, it was that it wasn't home. Seoul is. They are. And that certainty sinks into his bones until Yifan is sure he knows exactly what answer he will give the two of them in the morning.
-
Yifan clears his throat and knocks on the door, shifting from foot to foot. This is it.
The door opens and Baekhyun claps a hand over his mouth, hiding his smile. “You dressed up,” he accuses, but he looks pleased, and Yifan knows it's not really a complaint.
“Should I have dressed up?” Chanyeol asks, and over Baekhyun's shoulder, he can see their little table, set for three. There are candles lit. Baekhyun ushers him in.
“It looks nice,” Yifan tells them.
“How's this for a first date?” Baekhyun asks, and he curls a hand gently around Yifan's elbow. Chanyeol beams at the both of them.
Yifan's nerves melt away, leaving him with nothing but that dizzy rush of anticipation. “Not bad,” he says. “Not bad.”
“Gotta go,” Chanyeol says, a flush spreading across his cheeks as Baekhyun's hand slides lower. Yifan swallows and reminds himself to look unaffected. They're his best friends, this is nothing new. Still, his stomach lurches.“Same time next week?” He leans towards the laptop, and over his shoulder, Baekhyun waves his fingers at him, eyes alight. “We miss you!”
He doesn't wait for a reply. The screen goes black and Yifan throws himself backwards in his bed, dragging a hand through his hair and sighing. “I miss you too,” he mutters, and his chest burns.
This promotion was supposed to be a good thing. And it still is, without a doubt. Overseeing the establishment of the Vancouver office is a big deal, a job that he's honoured to have. It means a big step up in prestige, and not to mention pay.
Thing is, it's a bit lonely. If he's not asleep, he's in the office, working from sun-up til long after it's dark again. He hasn't even really had the chance to go out and see the city. His coworkers are nice enough, but none of them have reached out, and if Yifan is honest, neither has he. He misses Seoul. He misses his best friends most of all.
University in Korea was almost a whim. He had mostly wanted to get away from home, and Seoul seemed like a pretty good bet, considering he had to fly to get there. It'd been intimidating, but lucky for him, he'd gotten assigned a roommate who was aggressively friendly and under the delusion that Yifan was somehow super cool.
Meeting Chanyeol, and by association Baekhyun, was probably the best thing that had come out of college for him. Yifan has a lot of memories from that time, late nights and study sessions that somehow turned into ordering pizza and watching bad romcoms (Baekhyun's idea, but Yifan had a secret weakness for them). He remembers one morning, waking up in Chanyeol's bed after some adventure. Chanyeol's feet were in his face, the rest of his long, lean body draped off the bed and his head under a pillow. Baekhyun was curled up against his back, drooling against Yifan's shoulder. He was missing a stats class and he could feel his hangover rolling in, but somehow, he felt completely content.
Yifan counts himself lucky that the two of them have pretty much stuck around since then. He's been with them through graduation, job-hunting, and since they made the first tentative steps into a relationship.
That, if Yifan is honest with himself, had been one of the hardest things he's done. Through college, they'd been an unbreakable unit, the three of them going everywhere and doing everything together. It was a comfortable, easy dynamic; Yifan could count on Baekhyun to go shopping with, Chanyeol was always game for a round of video games, and if he couldn't find one, he could just look for the other.
So when they'd started inching together, this slow, inevitable progression that started with furtive clasped hands and those long adoring looks, it had stung. Yifan had to keep reminding himself that he is an adult. Jealousy over friends hanging out seemed like a petty, childish emotion, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel it rising up in him every time he called Chanyeol to hang out, only to find that they'd already made plans, just the two of them.
The moment he knew he couldn't deny it was the moment he walked in on them at a New Year's party. They were all pleasantly drunk, and Baekhyun had announced that his drink was empty. Clearly, he needed to rectify that, and Chanyeol trailed after him into the kitchen. Even with the hubbub of the party and the noise the rest of their friends were making, Yifan could tell that they were taking far more time than was necessary, so he decided to go check in on them.
The sight that greeted him stopped him dead, fingers tightening on his cheap plastic cup. Baekhyun had Chanyeol backed up against the counter, one hand gripping the front of his shirt to pull him down. The way that they were kissing was intimate and slow – this was clearly not a one-off occasion. Chanyeol's fingers opened and closed fitfully at Baekhyun's hips and he was making tiny pleased noises in response to the way that Baekhyun licked into his mouth and stroked a hand up his ribs.
It took a few seconds, but Chanyeol finally spotted him over Baekhyun's head and he straightened in a rush, looking like a deer in headlights. “Yifan,” he said, breathless. There was something burning in Yifan's chest, making his throat tight and his hands shake.
“Sorry,” Yifan said immediately, automatically. This was not a moment that was meant to be shared, and he'd stumbled in on it, ruined it. “I didn't mean to...interrupt.”
Baekhyun shook his head as he pulled away from Chanyeol. Yifan couldn't help the way that his eyes caught on his hand, now curled into the hem of Chanyeol's shirt. Yifan's gut churned in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “No, we should be sorry,” Baekhyun told him, and the guilt was painted on his face. Yifan couldn't decide if that was better, or worse. “We should've told you.”
Yifan seized on that as the reason for the ache in his ribcage. It's the secrets kept, he thought. That must be it. He considered his words carefully before he spoke again. “It's cool,” he said. He'd thought about being mad at them, but what would that accomplish? They're his closest friends. If this made them happy, then he should be happy for them. “I'll just, uh, grab a drink.”
It was weak, and he knew it, and they were both watching him, wary. He was too drunk to deal with it right then, with their tangled up hands and the way their eyes were trained on him. Tomorrow was a new day, a new year, and maybe he could figure it all out then.
When he threw himself down on the couch again next to Yixing, he looked up at him curiously. “Something wrong?” he asked quietly. Yifan shrugged and shook his head. Even if he'd wanted to talk about it, he wasn't sure he knew what he'd even say.
Of course, it wasn't any easier the next day, or the next year, as Baekhyun and Chanyeol fell almost effortlessly into their relationship. He'd thought, before, that there was something inevitable about the way the two of them had gravitated towards each other, and that only became clearer as they started to become more open about their relationship. Baekhyun fit so naturally under Chanyeol's arm, and Chanyeol had always turned towards Baekhyun like a flower towards the sun. Yifan wonders how he never saw it before.
Maybe it was wilful blindness. He's not stupid. He knew what it was, the reason his stomach rolled sickeningly when Baekhyun crooked a finger and Chanyeol laughed and came, without hesitation, their faces lit up and so happy. Yifan's really never been all that great at disguising what he's thinking, but he became practiced at swallowing down the increasingly familiar ache. For someone that was bigger than the two of them, Yifan felt somehow small and forgotten.
Still, it wasn't like they excluded him. Their old patterns persisted. Movie night, every week, the three of them sprawled out on Yifan's couch in front of some old cheesy romance. Except now, when Yifan turned to whisper something snarky to Baekhyun, he found him curled into Chanyeol's lap, neither of them even looking at the screen. The worst part is, Yifan doesn't even know what part is setting off that burn in his heart, Chanyeol's hand fitted possessively around Baekhyun's hip, or the smile that Baekhyun seemed to have only for Chanyeol. And that made this a whole new flavour of mess.
By the fall, when the position in Vancouver opened up, Yifan was about ready to go. He was sick of pull in his chest, the wanting he had to keep pushing down. It seemed like a good idea, until he dragged his suitcase into the little rented apartment that was to be his home for the next six months. It was plain, sparsely furnished, and when he sank down at the little dining room table, he felt incredibly lonely.
It's hardly improved, since then. Yifan keeps the apartment neat, clothes carefully away, dishes washed after every meal. He's gone out to eat a handful of times with colleagues, but he's never had anyone over to visit. Dinner is a lonely affair for Yifan, and if he's honest, the highlight of his week is usually when he checks the clock on Sunday morning and slides behind his laptop for his weekly call to Chanyeol and Baekhyun.
Talking to his best friends is a double-edged sword. He misses them, of course he does, and getting to catch up with them always soothes away the weariness he feels from work. He sits back and lets Baekhyun chatter about his weekly clients, listens to Chanyeol tell outlandish tales about the customers who walk into his store. It's familiar, and it feels like home, and that's something that Yifan appreciates when he's so far away.
Then again, it always brings back that wanting. Seeing their smiles, always casual hands on each other, it makes Yifan want to crawl through the screen and slide between them. He knows he can't have that, he knows that it's wrong to want it, but that doesn't mean that he knows how to shake off the dull throb in his chest whenever they say 'we miss you'. He misses them too, but it's not the same way. It's never the same way.
There are only two more weeks before Yifan is headed home, back to Seoul. Upper management has, of course, been dropping hints that they'd like him to stay in Vancouver and keep up the good work, and it's tempting. Over here, he isn't reminded daily of what he doesn't have by the sight of Chanyeol and Baekhyun, head over heels for each other. That feels a lot like running away, though, and something about that seems cowardly. Is he so petty that he would run away from the happiness of his friends?
Once again, Yifan rubs at his eyes and sighs. He has to get over this childish jealousy. It's certainly not making his life any easier. He reaches out one long arm and closes his laptop with a slap. Timezones, he thinks. That's the reason for this headache. Not the pull in his chest that aches so badly he feels like he left a vital part of him back on the other side of the planet.
His phone trills, rattling against his bedside table. goodnight, duizhang! sleep well. Baekhyun. Yifan doesn't bother to reply, just lets his phone slip from his hands, and stares at the ceiling. He wonders if Seoul misses him too.
-
The first thing Yifan sees when he gets into the airport is a ridiculous, brightly coloured sign waving over the heads of the crowd. Underneath it is Chanyeol's enormous, equally ridiculous grin. Warmth floods Yifan and he picks up his pace, the jetlag from the flight melting away as he pushes his way through the people to where they stand. Baekhyun is the first to greet him, winding his arms around Yifan's waist to pull him into a fast, tight hug. “Welcome home,” he says.
Chanyeol doesn't even give Baekhyun a second to pull away, just lunges at the both of them, wrapping them in his long arms. “Did you bring me anything?” he asks, his mouth at Yifan's ear. For a second, Yifan is overwhelmed by it all, by the way he can feel Baekhyun's laughter vibrate against his chest and Chanyeol's radiant smile. Mostly, though, it's the way that neither of him are letting him go.
“Alright, alright,” Yifan says finally, reluctantly, and Chanyeol takes a step back, far enough to give Baekhyun a chance to breathe and escape being crushed against Yifan's chest. “I brought you both souvenirs.” Chanyeol's eyes instantly light up, and Yifan holds up a hand. “No way, first, I'm going home, and I'm showering, and then maybe, if you're lucky, you'll get a present.”
Chanyeol groans and tugs Yifan's suitcase out of his hand, but Yifan doesn't have a second to complain. Baekhyun is hooking his arm through his and dragging him after Chanyeol. It's back again, that conflicting feeling, like he's being pulled in two directions. “We missed you,” Baekhyun tells him, and when he tips his head up to smile at him, Yifan swallows hard.
“It's good to be back,” Yifan replies. Walking between the two of them, Baekhyu pressed against against his side as Chanyeol leads them to their car, Yifan's feels like his heart is being squeezed in his chest. Home sweet home.
-
At least he has work, Yifan supposes. It's easy enough to fall back into his old routines here at home. He's not sure it's better here, but it's familiar, and there's something to be said about familiarity. His apartment feels like someone lives there, and more importantly, he has his friends within arms reach to bring him coffee at work to break up his day.
Yifan raises his head when he hears a knock at the door. “Hot and black,” Baekhyun says, raising the coffee cup. “Just like your soul.” He's not dolled up, the way he normally is during a shift at the salon, so Yifan assumes he's got the day off.
“You're a blessing,” Yifan tells him, accepting the coffee gratefully. Of course, he could drink the stuff in office coffee machine, but Yifan is somewhat convinced that it's brewed from motor oil. “What brings you to my corner of hell?”
Baekhyun claims the seat across from Yifan, squirming down into the expensive leather and making himself comfortable. “What?” he asks, the picture of innocence. Years of experience have taught Yifan not to trust that sweet smile. There is something, though, behind Baekhyun's carefully casual posture. Yifan finds it in the way that his hands flutter in his lap and the nervous bob of his throat. “Can't I just drop by to say hello to a friend? We have six months to catch up on, after all.”
Yifan doesn't dignify that with a response. He just regards Baekhyun for a long moment over his coffee, eyebrows raised.
He doesn't immediately answer. Baekhyun's resistance to Yifan's stare has always been higher than Chanyeol's. After several long minutes, Yifan is about ready to turn back to the paperwork he has to finish, but Baekhyun speaks. “We missed you, you know?” His words are careful, measured, and they feel heavy.
“I missed you too,” Yifan replies. “Of course. You're my best friends.”
Baekhyun straightens up slowly, shifting until he's sitting on the edge of the chair, back straight. “No,” he says. “Not like – ” He takes a breath, starts again. “When you were gone, it felt like. Like something was missing.”
Tension winds through Yifan's chest. He closes the folder in front of him and wills his heart to slow. “What do you mean?” he asks. He can't tell if it's hope or dread that's seeping through his gut.
Brows furrowing in frustration, Baekhyun bites his lip, tries a different tack. “Okay,” he says, and he drags the chair over to Yifan's desk. He grabs a sheet of paper and is sketching on it before Yifan can stop him and tell him that's part of a finance report he needs to submit by this afternoon. “Look.” He draws out a triangle, roughly equilateral, with three distinct dots at each point. “These are us,” he says. He points at each in turn. “You, me, Chanyeol.” He covers the lines joining Yifan to the other two. “This is what it was like when you were gone.” His eyes flick up to meet Yifan's and Yifan clenches his hands, hidden beneath his desk. His heart ricochets off his ribs and he struggles to keep his breathing even. He can't let himself hope. He won't. “That's not a whole picture. That's a line. That's not a shape.”
“What are you saying?” Yifan asks, and his voice is rough, unsteady. His eyes are fixed on Baekhyun's, and Baekhyun stares back, unflinching. Yifan can't find the words to ask, to make this real, and Baekhyun seems hesitant to spell it out any further, so Yifan backs off. “I don't understand.”
Baekhyun sighs, but he smiles. “You should talk to Chanyeol,” he suggests as he climbs to his feet. “Maybe he can explain it better than I can.” He reaches out and curls delicate fingers into Yifan's, squeezing once. “I'll see you later.”
He slips out, and Yifan watches him wave a quick goodbye to his assistant before the door slides shut. His heart is ping-ponging around his ribcage and his hands are closed into fists so tight that his knuckles hurt. He feels unsteady, like someone replaced his solid office flooring with the rolling deck of a ship, and he doesn't trust himself to get up.
The rest of his day is spent hidden in his office, appointments cancelled, phone on mute. He needs to finish compiling his report on his term in Vancouver but instead of going over numbers he finds himself with one piece of paper in his hand, staring down at a triangle with equal sides. He can't fight the feeling that this is too good to be true.
-
When Yifan comes home to Chanyeol sprawled across his couch, TV blaring some horrible sitcom, he can't help but feel a bit like he's being ambushed. He carefully unties his shoes and puts them away before he even comes into the livingroom. Chanyeol lifts his head immediately, hauling himself upright and pasting on a smile. Yifan can see right through it, it's too wide, too tense, and his stomach lurches. “I still have your spare,” Chanyeol explains, and Yifan nods. Of course.
“So you just decided to invite yourself to dinner?” he asks. Yifan is a competent cook, not stellar, but Chanyeol is a disaster. It's always better for everyone's sake if he doesn't get too close to a stove.
“Something like that,” Chanyeol agrees. He scrambles to his feet, trailing after Yifan as he heads to his bedroom to put away his things. “Listen, I. You talked to Baekhyun, right?”
Yifan's back is to Chanyeol as he loosens his tight, and he stiffens. “Yeah,” he replies. “Something about geometry and puzzles.”
He regrets his flippant tone as soon as he turns around and sees Chanyeol, shoulders hunched. “Oh,” he says. “So you. Did you figure it out?” He's so nervous, twitchy and wide eyed, and Yifan shucks off his suit jacket.
He takes a step towards Chanyeol almost automatically, and then he stops himself. “Do you mean, did we figure things out? Or are you asking me if I understood Baekhyun's code about triangles and missing pieces?”
“If you want,” Chanyeol says, and Yifan can see the moment when he steels himself, standing straighter. “If you want, we can be something. All three of us.”
It's all so heavy, and Yifan's mouth is dry. He struggles to catch his breath. “What?” he asks weakly. It all seems unreal. He can tell, though, that it's reality, by the faint shadow of stubble on one side of Chanyeol's jaw and the stain on his own cuff, coffee from this morning. “You – ?”
Chanyeol nods firmly. “It's not. What Baekhyun and I have, it's nice, but.” He shrugs a shoulder. “With you, it'd be better. It'd be so much better.”
It's a good thing that Yifan's bed is right there, because he sits down in a rush, his head spinning. Hope roars in his ears. “Can I think about it?” he asks.
It hurts, the way that Chanyeol wilts, but he recovers. He's an optimist, Yifan knows. His smile, this time, is stronger, brighter. It's not a no, after all. “Of course,” Chanyeol agrees, without hesitation. He steps forward, hesitant, and rests his hand against Yifan's arm. “We'll be waiting.”
That night, Yifan is too distracted to properly cook. He even burns the rice and he ends up scrapping it all, throwing the half cooked meal in the garbage and climbing into bed early.
This time, there was nothing ambiguous about what Baekhyun and Chanyeol were asking him. That knowledge, that certainty, it made Yifan's breath catch in his throat. No matter how long he'd spent watching and wanting, he had never once considered that this was an actual possibility, a path that they could actually go down.
The idea itself is risky, he knows. Putting another person into the equation throws all the math off. It multiplies the complications. Yifan can see it now, the dozens of tiny little things that could chip away at all of them, make it fall apart.
And then, Yifan thinks about the positives. He thinks about that warm happy feeling he gets just from being around the two of them. If there was anything that his stint in Vancouver had taught him, it was that it wasn't home. Seoul is. They are. And that certainty sinks into his bones until Yifan is sure he knows exactly what answer he will give the two of them in the morning.
-
Yifan clears his throat and knocks on the door, shifting from foot to foot. This is it.
The door opens and Baekhyun claps a hand over his mouth, hiding his smile. “You dressed up,” he accuses, but he looks pleased, and Yifan knows it's not really a complaint.
“Should I have dressed up?” Chanyeol asks, and over Baekhyun's shoulder, he can see their little table, set for three. There are candles lit. Baekhyun ushers him in.
“It looks nice,” Yifan tells them.
“How's this for a first date?” Baekhyun asks, and he curls a hand gently around Yifan's elbow. Chanyeol beams at the both of them.
Yifan's nerves melt away, leaving him with nothing but that dizzy rush of anticipation. “Not bad,” he says. “Not bad.”