Three days ago, when Chanyeol walked up to him (more like ambushed him in his room after being pointedly told, I'm always busy, I'm forever busy) for what seemed to be the millionth time since Baekhyun's birthday bash-slash-massive drinking fest–slash–the biggest mistake of a party Kyungsoo has ever been to in years to ask if they could meet for lunch this coming Wednesday, in the basketball courts, I'll take care of the food; just show up. I'm serious, Kyungsoo made a long list of reasons why he should and shouldn't take the ten-minute walk from the Arts building to the sports complex on the biggest piece of paper he could find lying around. On the left, in the 'why I should show the fuck up' column, he'd written down: it's free lunch, who even says 'no' to that? Chanyeol won't stop capitalizing on every window of opportunity just so they could sort things out, so if Kyungsoo wants to live a peaceful life up until the end of senior year then say 'yes' to the food, Kyungsoo, please. It's just lunch. How hard could that be? And Chanyeol really was drunk to the bone that time, two weeks ago, when they'd shuffled to the far end of the couch and Chanyeol decided that it was probably normal for roommates to get a bit too intimate, for him to splay his fingers on Kyungsoo's stomach, for him to lean in too close until his mouth was on Kyungsoo's own. They'd both had one too many shots and bottles of beer already for them to even think straight. They'd just come from their communications theory midterms that time. They were both tired. And Kyungsoo kissed him back, tongue grazing the back of Chanyeol's teeth until he tasted the sick mix of tequila and brandy on Chanyeol's tongue. So really, if Kyungsoo had any intention of living through the whole encounter without a clawing sensation in his chest everytime Chanyeol looked at him differently when they passed each other in the corridor the following day then he should have just let Chanyeol kiss him until their jaws were sore and their mouths we swollen. They could have let the alcohol do the talking and submitted themselves to the allure of liquor. It wouldn't have meant a thing. They would have been okay.
But Kyungsoo had to pull away at the very last second, just before Chanyeol slipped his hands beneath Kyungsoo's shirt, and come back with an entire tray of shots, glasses filled to the brim. He matched every single focused gaze Chanyeol threw at him with a shot of tequila, or whiskey, or whatever it was that Baekhyun had poured for him. He set the tray between them when Chanyeol shifted in his seat so he was facing Kyungsoo and not the television showing Adventure Time in the loudest, most obnoxious volume ever. Chanyeol kept fishing for moments when they could talk, creating opportunities for himself, setting himself up for failure, and Kyungsoo kept ignoring them like the plague (along with the sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach – again, alcohol at work).
So on the list of cons to showing up, in no particular order: it's Chanyeol making lunch for him and he knows better than to trust Chanyeol not to go overboard with spices that might kill his stomach. They were – and still are, albeit not as obvious because they haven't exchanged words save for 'there's food in the fridge' and 'dibs on the shower' – living in the same dorm, separated only by little room but pulled together by the same common area, after all. Meeting in the basketball court means having to deal with a bunch of noisy players. Chanyeol makes it easy to focus on nothing, nobody else but him, with or without Chanyeol's tongue stuck down his throat. Last but not the least, underlined at least twice: Kyungsoo still can't get the way Chanyeol kept whispering Kyungsoo's name like a prayer that time, when it was cold all around them but their mouths were hot and heavy against each other, out of his mind.
"You're so fucked," Kyungsoo says to himself, then rips the paper into shreds. It makes his senses tingle as much as it calms him down. With a deep breath, he pushes himself off his bed and counts down to his untimely demise. At least he can be sure Chanyeol will attend his funeral. Chanyeol has always been there for him, after all.
He met Chanyeol back in freshman year, when both of them were still fumbling fools dashing from one class to another, too scared to come in late even for just a minute or two. There weren't too many people in Music Production and only a handful of them were freshmen, so it made sense for them to stick with each other – Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, the composer and the singer, the one who could make sense out of notes that weren't the ones on the board and the one who could find the right words for Chanyeol's tunes at any given time. Once, for Sound Design class, they had to come up with an entire verse of beats, and somehow Kyungsoo was the only one who found it easy to fill Chanyeol's music with lyrics.
"Because I'm so damn predictable and you know I totally took inspiration from Something Corporate. I mean, I've had 'em on loop the entire week. They're still stuck in my head, right here–" Chanyeol had said, then cracked his neck at the same time that he stretched out his arms in front of him. The veins at the back of his hands were strained, maybe even howling in pain, and the rest of Chanyeol's features looked more zombie than human, but there was no denying the lilts of his voice, the bubbles of laughter that were slowly making their way up his throat, ready for a clumsy enunciation. He sounded vaguely amused at the whole sound I.D.-ing thing. That, and he seemed to be getting excited again at the thought of one other person fawning over the same obscure band. It had been endearing the first few days, Kyungsoo mused, when they found out they'd been following the same band since 1998. After a while, the amusement had weaned off, turned into a reassuring knowledge that if anyone ever shit on SoCo, Kyungsoo would be able to trust Chanyeol to back him up or convince people that the band was at least worth listening to.
"You've had them on loop in your mind since you were born," Kyungsoo murmured thumbing through his notes. "Or since they were born. Whatever." He scratched the back of his nape, pressed down on it with his fingers until he could feel the tension lifting a little. Sound Theory was easier understood through application and not by sifting through readings from a professor who couldn't even remember that instrumentals, when paired with recorded vocals, must at least be 10 decibels lower than the main vocals. Basic shit. Kyungsoo learned about it from Chanyeol; Chanyeol learned how to be extra careful about it because Kyungsoo kept nudging him in his side whenever he made the mistake of having both sound layers at the same volume level. At least Chanyeol was blasting one of McMahon's project bands' music, though. That made studying sound rules and wave anatomy much more bearable. "You're taking Sound Prod for Theatre next term, right?"
"I thought we were taking Cinema Sound?" Chanyeol huffed. "We agreed on that ages ago!"
We? Kyungsoo swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. Two terms into their friendship and he still hadn't grown accustomed to Chanyeol assuming that his plans were also Kyungsoo's own. Which was probably stupid because they'd agreed to room with each other come sophomore year, which was in a little over a month. And that said a lot because while Chanyeol was a magnet for people, problematic or otherwise, he only let a select few into his life – Baekhyun, Jongdae, the genius transfer student-slash-composer from Changsha called 'Yixing', then a senior of theirs whom Baekhyun and Jongdae were always seen following around for 'free lessons'. If Chanyeol were a concert then everyone would get tickets to general admission, but only few would gain access to the patron areas and the backstage where Chanyeol was a bit more human and less of the vessel of warmth that he made himself out to be in front of everyone.
Kyungsoo got a patron seat for free and backstage access, to boot. He didn't even go to concerts that often.
"You can apply the same learnings to cinema sound, though."
"Noooo." Chanyeol huffed. "There are modules specific to cinema. You said we'll do cinema stuff together because no one else can master sound the way you do." He looked like a kid who was seconds away from throwing a tantrum. Or an adult who was fast realizing how unfair life was and how could his closest friend in university forget their agreement? If it were anybody else, Kyungsoo would just roll his eyes in response, but this was Chanyeol, Chanyeol who had decided on their first day in school that they absolutely had to be friends, Chanyeol who'd rewritten Kyungsoo's bad, bad reputation with keeping friends for more than five months because Kyungsoo was shit at communication sometimes, and some of his friends wanted to be in touch with him all the time.
Five months. That was two more than his previous friendship back in high school. Not that Kyungsoo had been counting; Chanyeol just made it easy to notice how time sped by so fast, how twenty-four hours in a day weren't enough to dissect Chanyeol's many layers and note down his findings on him. Chanyeol made everything feel like a piece of cake – packing a year's worth of readings and memorabilia in little boxes, dragging them up the stairs because the elevators were out of commission, doing a test run of the whole 'cohabitation thing' and sleeping on a rolled out sleeping bag with Chanyeol's chest warm and heaving in a steady rhythm against Kyungsoo's back, muscles tense, shaking, too aware.
"You promised," Chanyeol finished, bottom lip jutting out in accord. Part of Kyungsoo wanted to shove his readings in Chanyeol's face, but part of him wanted to lean closer, examine the gentle swell of Chanyeol's mouth, and pull away even before he could try getting a taste of the strawberry shake Chanyeol had been drinking earlier. Part of him wanted to do something stupid, but Kyungsoo was rarely ever adventurous. So instead, he leaned back a little, bit the inside of his cheek, waited until Chanyeol was saying, "And Do Kyungsoo never breaks promises."
Kyungsoo heaved a sigh. He could feel his insides turning. The last meal he'd taken was... last night? Chanyeol had 'summoned' him to eventually what would be their dorm and surprised him with takeout food from a Japanese restaurant they'd chanced upon a few days back. "I couldn't remember exactly what you wanted so... yay, ramen?" It was the best dinner he'd had in weeks. "Is this your version of 'ohana means family'? Because it sucks."
"No. It's my version of 'we already talked about this a hundred times–"
"Probably five." Kyungsoo shuffled the papers in his hands together and tightened his grip at the corners. Chanyeol narrowed his eyes at him, lips now poised in a scowl, but if Chanyeol ever thought of punching Kyungsoo or pushing Kyungsoo away, he didn't. Instead, he only stuck out his tongue. Kyungsoo could strengthen case, but that would take another five minutes. Chanyeol wouldn't back down easily. And Kyungsoo knew deep inside that there was only one way this would pan out. "Or just once. The afternoon schedule, right?"
Chanyeol grinned. "3-6 p.m., yes."
"You owe me coffee."
"Baekhyun says I make badass cold brew."
"A week's supply."
"Just a week's supply?" Chanyeol scoffed. "C'mon, Soo! You could've asked for more and I wouldn't have minded!"
Of course, you wouldn't, Kyungsoo had half the mind to say, but they only had fifteen minutes to spare 'til their next class. Online pre-enrollment was a pain in the ass and campus internet was slower than Baekhyun's thought process at ass o' clock in the morning. He had more important things to do than to photograph Chanyeol's smile and tuck it in his chest. So instead, he hit the 'submit' button for his new schedule and lifted his eyes, met Chanyeol's gaze across the table, and muttered, "Done," even before Chanyeol could make a sound.
You wouldn't have minded. But I would have. I do.
"If you're not going to touch your food then I'm taking that back."
Kyungsoo's body gives a violent jerk, his insides turning as if something big and heavy had been dropped to the pit of his stomach. Which is weird, considering he's barely touched the lunch Chanyeol had prepared (bought from the restaurant closest to the university, Kyungsoo's pretty sure, though it won't be the first time Chanyeol has cooked something for him – not that he's been counting), barely even had anything before went on the longest ten-minute walk of his life. Part of him is convinced it's just the fatigue from the midterm week that had just passed catching up on him, fucking up with his system, messing with his senses, but the other half of him knows better than to keep lying to himself about realities that keep shoving themselves in his face. It's silly – he'd bumped into Chanyeol this morning, on his way to the common bathroom, and didn't say a word, didn't even make a sound even if he knew very well that all he had to do to make Chanyeol stop saying 'hey' every five seconds in an attempt to get an answer, an explanation, from him was to look Chanyeol in the eye and say, I'm fucking going to the courts, okay? I'll meet you there. Now just shut it; I'm trying to think. And I'm trying to think of ways to get rid of this weird thing you make me feel.
He laughs to himself. It's stupid to even be trying to avoid any sort of interaction with Chanyeol when they're living in the same four, five hundred square feet of space separated only by wooden walls. He's just digging his own grave, making things difficult for himself like his coursework isn't doing a pretty good job at it already. Besides, it's just a kiss. And mischievous hands, yes, but still – there was a shitton of alcohol involved. Baekhyun may or may not have made them smoke something Kyungsoo wouldn't come within three feet of if he wasn't so far gone. That kiss could have meant anything and nothing.
"Are you going to do it or am I going to do it?"
"The taking back thing?" Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows. "Of course, I'll–"
"Don't–" Be stupid, act dense, don't be me, Kyungsoo's tempted to say, but those aren't part of the speech he'd carefully crafted in his head until two in the morning. He's supposed to say something nice, patch things up, 'It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to' and 'Let's just forget the whole thing happened, alright? I need my old self back. I was us back.' "–pretend you didn't drag me all the way here just to feed me."
Chanyeol shrugs. The crease on his forehead eases into something a bit more relaxed, natural, but there's a peculiar glimmer in his eyes that Kyungsoo just can't I.D. at the moment. Not that he has a catalogue of Chanyeol's expressions at the back of his head, but– "You haven't been eating. We're supposed to be mastering the final output for sound class. I don't want you to die or something and have to be the one to clean up after everyone's shitty sound editing job." Chanyeol sucks in a deep, violent breath, hovers for a moment, lips parted, and he looks like he's seconds away from saying something, but instead he's popping a slice of kimbap in his mouth.
His lips are chapped, a bit bruised, but not the same brand of swollen they had been when he'd kissed Kyungsoo two weeks ago, when he'd pulled Kyungsoo close, too close, that Kyungsoo was almost straddling him and fisting his hands in Chanyeol's shirt and grinding against the burgeoning heat between Chanyeol's legs–
"I'm doing what any friend would, that's all I'm saying," Chanyeol mutters after a while. Kyungsoo shivers all over – at the sudden cracking of Chanyeol's voice or the ripple in the sound all around them, he can't tell yet. All he knows is that there are a lot of things he should be doing now, and thinking of drawing answers from Chanyeol's mouth with his own lips shouldn't be one of them. Surely, there are better ways to get answers. One that doesn't require much falling and taking big, risky leaps. "We... are good, right? No, wait, that's a stupid question to ask– Why are you– Why are we–"
"Why did you do it?" Kyungsoo asks, words tumbling from his lips in a tangled mess of syllables. When he looks up to meet Chanyeol's gaze, he adds, "Why did you kiss me back in the party?"
'Because I felt like it' is the most obvious answer, but Kyungsoo's certain Chanyeol knows exactly the kind of answer he's looking for – one that doesn't require more questions to fully decipher, one that can't be taken for anything other than what it is. At the start of the second trimester, Chanyeol buried his face in Kyungsoo's neck and Kyungsoo asked, 'What the hell are you doing?', and Chanyeol's only response was light laughter, the gentle brush of his nose against Kyungsoo's skin, and a deep sharp inhale before he said, 'You smell nice.'
Kyungsoo had only rolled his eyes in retort then, but his insides were turning so uncontrollably that time that he felt he would throw up any second. The wild thumping in his chest right now isn't any better, but at least he doesn't feel like puking what he'd just eaten from the meal Chanyeol brought for him anymore, not even when Chanyeol reasons, "They gave me tequila and you know that fucks up my system. Like, really fucks up with my system to the point that–"
Kyungsoo thinks back on one of those block parties they'd attended within the past few months and recalls all those times he had to drag Chanyeol back to his own room, Chanyeol giggling into the crown of Kyungsoo's hair and whispering things Kyungsoo would've heard and understood if he could only hear anything above the thundering pulse at the back of his ears. He remembers, without meaning to, the way Chanyeol would lean in a bit too close and breathe out against Kyungsoo's skin in hiccuped chuckles, sprayed and tainted with alcohol, even when they were deep in conversation. And he recalls so well the way Chanyeol would always pull away even before they both took a calculated risk, the few hitched breaths between their lips growing into inches, feet of space, but would keep his gaze, fond and focused, on the swell of Kyungsoo's mouth. "It makes you ten times hornier, yeah."
"And honest," Chanyeol adds, rough laughter spilling from the corners of his lips as he does so. He takes a deep breath, lets his shoulders slump forward when he exhales, then rests his chopsticks on the Tupperware where his lunch used to be. The dull thud sort of makes Kyungsoo shiver. He's always been hypersensitive to sounds, but today is one of those days when the faintest crackle of light in the air might startle him, make him blurt out words he'll regret later on. "Guess I should have spiked our water, huh?"
Kyungsoo swallows hard. "But you didn't," he whispers, coughs out when the tightness in his throat becomes a bit more unbearable than usual. "And you could have said 'no' to the tequila back then–"
"You think I would have?"
You should have. Then we won't have to be in this situation. Kyungsoo could have lived his entire lifetime not knowing how it would have been if he'd just suggested to Chanyeol that they push their beds together, scoot closer to each other when nights were too cold, if he'd just draped his arm over Chanyeol's stomach when Chanyeol was having bad dreams (and even when he was having good ones, the ones that always made Chanyeol smile the sweetest, most unguarded smile). He could have lived the next five, ten, twenty years not knowing how it felt to have Chanyeol's lips on his and why it felt so good. He could have missed out on a lot of things in life and not have any regrets, but he wouldn't have much to rejoice over, either.
He doesn't have regrets; he only has little wishes tucked safely at the back of his mind, ready to be pushed down when the thought becomes too powerful, overwhelming. He has words threatening to spill from his lips, knocking at the back of his teeth for a clumsy enunciation.
"No," Kyungsoo answers, as truthful as he can be. A deep breath, then, "Because you're weird and stupid and you like making things hard for yourself."
Chanyeol scoffs. "Wish I could disagree," he whispers, then heaves a sigh. He sucks in his bottom lip again, the way he does when he's running low on words, excuses, when he can't find a way out, when he's thinking and rethinking everything he wants to say. It's just me, Kyungsoo wants to argue, but how many times have they been at this point where they're both trying to push each other away and reel each other back in? Three, four times? Five, because Kyungsoo keeps deliberately forgetting that one time in the kitchen when Chanyeol caught him whipping up something for breakfast because "It's the least I can do for making you stay up until three for that stupid project– Hey, you like your eggs soft scrambled, right?" They were running on less than four hours of sleep and Chanyeol wouldn't stop shifting his gaze from Kyungsoo's eyes to the swell of Kyungsoo's mouth. And Kyungsoo couldn't bring himself to make Chanyeol snap out of the trance because goddamn if after all these months of trying to keep a safe distance between them, he never thought of just throwing in the towel and leaning closer for a kiss. "But I guess I can change that."
Kyungsoo bites the inside of his cheek. Half of him wants to taunt Chanyeol, tease him, try to lure out the Chanyeol who he knows has always been certain of everything, but soon Chanyeol's pushing his lunch box to the side, reaching over, inching closer. Kyungsoo takes takes a deep, shaky breath, then, air filtering through the gaps of this teeth, and he shivers when he feels Chanyeol's hot breath caging in on him, prickling his forehead, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. It's a bit uncomfortable, slowly backing away from Chanyeol until he hits the next flight on the bleachers, but Chanyeol makes it somewhat bearable when Chanyeol snakes an arm around his waist to rest a warm hand on the small of his back, when Chanyeol grips him by the wrist before pressing his palm to the surface of the back rest just behind him, leaving him without any room for escape.
It's not as if he ever meant to run away. He just needed time to collect pieces of himself that he keeps dropping whenever Chanyeol slots fractions of his smile in Kyungsoo's life. Kyungsoo just needs some time to breathe, and now he has enough air in his lungs to last him a few more kisses.
"I did it because I wanted to," Chanyeol confesses as he inches even closer, as he thins six, five, four inches of space into just three deep breaths. I get it, now just get on with it, Kyungsoo wants to lash out, but his throat is too tight and dry and his heartbeats feel like the beat of a drum, too loud for the sound of Kyungsoo's own breathing but not quite enough to drown out Chanyeol's words. "Have been wanting to for a while now. And because you looked really hot with your hair pushed back."
Kyungsoo snorts. "You've never called me 'hot' before."
"You never let me." A deep breath, then, "You even pushed me away even before I could–"
"Open your mouth again so I can stick my tongue down your throat, yeah. Sorry about that." Kyungsoo scrunches his nose, balls his fingers into loose fists on his lap, twists his mouth in an attempt to wipe off the impending smile fast crawling to the corners of his tightly-pressed lips, but to no avail – Chanyeol makes it difficult not to cackle or even chuckle with that shit-eating grin on his features. This is months of knowing each other, of having their bodies react to each other like a reflex at work. This is all those words he'd been keeping himself from telling Chanyeol since the start of the week, since that night when Chanyeol snatched a kiss from him and the rest of his sanity, rushing to the surface, pulling Kyungsoo forward until the tip of his nose is grazing Chanyeol's own. "In my defense, you bit my lip too hard–"
"Excuse me, I did not–"
"And sucked on my tongue too little," Kyungsoo finishes in a whisper, voice so soft he could have just been breathing. But he couldn't have been because now Chanyeol's curling his fingers against Kyungoo's shirt, widening his eyes, parting his lips in a small 'o', the quiver at the corners of his mouth dropped to the ground in favor of a bright smile. "But you can still change that."
Chanyeol chuckles. It sounds a lot like rock and roll. "I will."
Chanyeol presses his lips against Kyungsoo's own in a light, light brush, nothing like the kiss they'd shared back in that room that reeked of the scent of alcohol and smoke and secrets. It's shy, almost tentative with the way Chanyeol tilts his head in the slowest motion like he's still trying to maneuver his way into Kyungsoo's life. Which is silly because Chanyeol knows him better than he knows the shortcut from the College of Arts building to College of Science's building, or simply his way around the campus without having to check and double check street signs every few seconds. Chanyeol knows him like the back of his hand, or every discoverable mole kissing his warm, warm skin, but right now it feels like Chanyeol's mapping out a path to him, to world domination, to conquering Kyungsoo once and for all. Chanyeol teases the seam of Kyungsoo's lips until Kyungsoo's tilting his head back a little, catching Chanyeol's upper lip with his teeth, nibbling on it until Chanyeol's soft laughter turns into a low and choked moan. Chanyeol leaves soft, gentle kisses on the column of Kyungsoo's neck and Kyungsoo threads his fingers through Chanyeol's hair, takes a fistful and tugs, tightens his hold on Chanyeol when Chanyeol whimpers a little, laughs, sighs. The symphony sends a familiar sizzle of heat rolling down Kyungsoo's abdomen and shit, does that feel good. Chanyeol sucking long and hard on his bottom lip, Chanyeol licking the cavern of his mouth and tickling the roof just enough to earn a chuckle from Kyungsoo mid-kiss (that Chanyeol steals for himself; Chanyeol just keeps everything safely tucked in his chest) – every single touch, light or lingering, sets off explosions at the tips of Kyungsoo's fingers, toes, the back of his eyelids. Every hiccuped breath from Chanyeol, every little gasp and sigh and groan makes his insides lurch. And every knuckle Chanyeol digs into his skin feels a lot like a countdown to the crash, the part where they slip their hands beneath each other's shirts and throw all caution to the wind.
"Why didn't I ever do this ages ago?" Chanyeol asks when they part, lips slick with spit and still swollen. His eyes are dazed, a bit unfocused, but Kyungsoo can still see himself reflected in them, enough that he can make out the silly smile on his lips that makes him look like a grin had been punched on his lips more than anything. If Kyungsoo were with anyone else he'd be concerned, bothered, maybe even terrified, but this is Chanyeol. And for all of Chanyeol's being a flight hazard, Kyungsoo doesn't mind taking the leap with him at all. "I mean, we've shared a bed at least thrice–"
"Because you're too chicken to move your ass," Kyungsoo says, then steals the rest of Chanyeol's words in the slide of their mouths, in the fit of their bodies, in the way he memorizes every slope and curve of Chanyeol's mouth with his tongue. And he drinks up the slow-forming smile on Chanyeol's mouth against his skin, the knots in his chest coming off and the lurching sensation stilling into a simmering heat that is rivaled only by the warm press of Chanyeol's lips on his.
You are so fucked, groans a voice at the back of his mind. He laughs.
He doesn't really mind.
"How do you feel about 'gourmet ramyun' for dinner?"
Kyungsoo looks up from where he's been groaning about codecs compatibility and bitrates for the past thirty minutes. It's eight in the evening on a Friday on finals week and they should be rewarding themselves with something that isn't the same brand of instant noodles that they've been for the past seven days, but Chanyeol seems to be so excited about the prospect of 'jazzing up common ramyun' with the spices his sister had given him as a present 'for being able to live alone' for a year already. So he holds two thumbs up, flashes Chanyeol the best smile he can muster at the moment, and says, "Only if we take it with–"
"Soju?" Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows, then tilts his head in the direction of the fridge. Their fridge that's 70% Chanyeol's leftovers from cafeteria food and 30% Kyungsoo's assortment of pickled things and yellow radish. The move got pushed earlier after Chanyeol backed Kyungsoo against the tiled walls in the shower room a few months back. Luckily, Kyungsoo's already started packing. "Got you covered."
"You got beer, too?"
Chanyeol winks. "But of course."
"I–" Love you, Kyungsoo almost says, but he manages to bite down on his tongue before he can even blurt it out. Maybe he can slide that in one of their conversations tomorrow, early in the morning, over coffee. Maybe he can take Chanyeol out for lunch, drag Chanyeol to that dessert place that's been getting more buzz recently, and drop the big bomb on Chanyeol's lap. Or maybe he can casually mention that later, during dinner, slumped against towers of pillows arranged on the comforter they'd rolled out on the surface, knees touching, defenses down and heart laid down on the floor. "I'll take care of the mix later."
Chanyeol grins before ducking back into the kitchen. A few feet away, Kyungsoo cracks his knuckles, takes a deep breath, and smiles to himself.
Sounds like a plan.