Genre: sad, romance, fluff
Summary: (Sorry I really can't write summaries. Basically about Baekhyun who is a lonely boy who plays the piano and what happens after he meets Chanyeol.)
Inspired by Baekhyun's fingers and fuelled by all the Baekyeol feels lately. :D
Baekhyun has never known friendship before he met Chanyeol.
To the world, Byun Baekhyun was as introverted boy, quiet and perpetually off in his own little world. He was a skinny boy, small and frail-looking, and his face was shadowed with eyebags that made him look quite sickly. He was the son of a chairman of a successful company and was impeccably rich. He could have anything he wanted, anything at all but his freedom. He was expected to succeed the company, and to facilitate this his father sent him to the best school in the region, hired tons of instructors and tutors to ensure his brilliance. Baekhyun didn't have a choice, after school, he was whisked back home while the other middle-schoolers went to play, left in a stuffy room with boring teachers and mountains of books.
It was too much for a child to handle, and soon after the boy named Baekhyun retreated into his own world, going about life as nothing but an empty shell, a robot programmed to fulfil duties. He had no friends, friends required time and he had no time to even catch his breath. People called him The Shadow, just the boy who sat at the front of the class and yet was invisible to the world. It hurt at first, watching all the boys in his class get into their groups, dragging their chairs to each other's tables whereas he sat alone, isolated and lonely. He was always the boy looking out of the window, a wistful expression on his face as he watched his classmates run around the field blissfully, wide happy grins on their faces.
He wanted to have friends, he, too, wanted to run around the field freely, laughing and feeling the wind on his face. He tried, he really did. Many a time he found himself opening his mouth, hand an inch away from his classmate's shoulder, and then his mouth to clamp shut, his hand falling limply in free air. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to start a conversation. He had memorised all the names of everyone in his class on the first day of school in the hopes of making friends with them, but he had never used them.
And so as time passed, he grew to accept the fact that he would never be accepted by others and he gave up, throwing away his hopes of a possible friendship.
Baekhyun found solace in the piano class his mother had enrolled him for. Initially he hated it, saw it as another heavy load on his already weighed down shoulders. That was until he heard the instructor play the piano, saw his long fingers racing over the pristine white keys. The happy tune made his heart lift, showed him that he could find joy in music. He thought that if he wasn't happy in school, he could be happy when he played the piano.
And so he immersed himself in the complexities of learning the basics of piano-playing, eager to master the instrument. For just one hour each day he would sit at the piano in his house with his teacher beside him, guiding him through the trebleclefts and flats scrawled in the music notes.
Luckily for Baekhyun, he had a natural affinity with the piano. His long, slender fingers moved with the speed of a cheetah and yet with the grace of a ballerina, pressing keys and making tunes roll off the piano, echoing in the small room. According to his teacher, he was well above the standards of his age, just several more grades to perfection. He worked harder than ever, memorising notes when he went to bed, lying on his fluffy mattress and reciting the notes that would play the next day. His enthusiasm was fuelled by the promise of a happy tune the next day, just as happy as he would feel playing out in the fields with friends. To him, the piano and its crystal clear tune stripped away the sadness and lonelinesshe'd buried deep in his heart, replacing it with happiness and a sense of accomplishment.
During recess, while the other boys were out on the fields playing catch, Baekhyun sat at the piano in the empty music room, off in his own world as joyful music danced to his ears. He thought that as long as he could play the piano, he didn't need anything else.
On the summer of his thirteenth year, things fell apart. His father was arrested for corruption and embezzlement and his mother had gone back to her mother's house, leaving him behind to face the music. He was sent to live with his grandparents in the neighbouring town and of course, all his lessons were terminated. There was going to be no more piano. His new place didn't have a piano and he spent the days aching with the loss of his only friend.
He was bullied in his new school, picked on by the malicious boys who knew about his father's mistakes and spread it around the school. Soon after the whole school knew and he was bullied by everyone, the subject of the harsh whispers in the canteen. He was more miserable than ever.
He continued to play the piano in an empty music room, drowning himself in its tunes. He was playing sad tunes these days, heartwrenching songs that reflected his current predicament. Hot tears spilled out of his eyes, and it was a good thing his fingers knew each key like the back of his hand or otherwise he would be playing a mess of music.
Everyday he went to school with his head bowed down, trying not to see the incriminating stares the other children shot him. He wished he could shut his ears from the taunts of the boys in the senior class, he wished he could block the rest of the world out, shutting the door and keeping them out.
To a boy with an already scarred heart, such treatment was like adding salt to a wound, painful and torturous. He wondered when it would all end.
He first met Chanyeol when he was playing the piano in the music room. He had been playing a sad song, feeling the music bounce off the walls and echo in the room, drowning him in misery. He heard a noise coming from behind him and saw a tall and lanky boy standing in the doorway, tears spilling down his child-like face. The boy took off right after he'd been spotted, accidentally dropping his student card in his haste. Baekhyun picked it up and found out that the boy was named Park Chanyeol.
He had been on his way to Classroom 2 after school to return the card when he ran into a trio of seniors who were notorious bullies. He bolted, running for his life like a man running from a lion's den, but it wasn't long before he felt cold hands grip his shoulders, jerking him back roughly. They surrounded him, blocking out all means of escape.
Fear gripped him, swallowed him whole as he felt the first punch knocking him to the ground. Sounds of mocking laughter filled his ears and everything seemed to move in slow motion. He felt the forceful kicks and jarring punches rain on his body, causing sharp jolts of pain to wrack through him.
And then he cried out, a strangled scream echoing in the deserted corridor. The heavy shoe on his right hand twisted, grinding into his bones and crushing his fingers, sending a frenzy of sparks to ignite on the inside of his hand, so powerful that his body shook with the pain that pulsated through his flesh. His eyes blurred, blinded by excruciating pain and by the hot liquid overflowing from its wells.
He heard a shout and the next moment the shoe flew off his hand, easing the pain a little. The sounds of boot against solid filled his ears, followed by loud yelling and laughter. When the blinding light finally faded from his vision, he could see feet kicking a figure sprawled on the ground, curled up in a protective ball.
Soon after, the torture stopped and Baekhyun could not have been more relieved to hear the heavy footsteps echo in the corridor, every step softer as the distance between them increased. He couldn't move, every muscle in his body was bruised and hurt, in no shape to comply with the orders of his brain. His hand throbbed with the force of a beating drum, sharp explosions of pain in the sore fingers. He couldn't move his fingers, they were unresponsive to the cries of his brain.
The figure on the ground infront of him stirred slowly, long limbs slowly uncurling. A boy with messed-up brown hair that tumbled over his huge, doe-like eyes stared at him, blood streaked down his face. And then his pink lips curved into a broken smile, the most beautiful smile Baekhyun had ever seen, genuine and heartwarming, causing his lips to quiver as something flipped in his constricted chest.
The boy crawled over to him, his movements slow and stilted.
"Are you okay?" he asked, right eye twitching as his face scrunched up to form a concerned expression.
Baekhyun tried to speak, but nothing came out. He didn't need to say anything, for the boy helped him up with the gentleness of a nurse, slow and light. His knees quivered, knocking into each other like a nervous wreck.
"Put your arms around my neck," the boy said in a rather low voice. Baekhyun did as told, slowly and carefully arranging his hands around the boy's skinny neck, his left hand supporting his wounded right hand.
Warm hands lifted his knees such that he was on the boy's back, and the boy walked forward unsteadily, one step at a time.
"I-I'm heavy," Baekhyun managed to say, his voice small and soft against the boy's shoulder.
"No you're not," the boy said assuringly, and Baekhyun could hear the smile in his voice.
"I'm Chanyeol by the way," the boy said, turning around to look at him, eyes twinkling.
Park Chanyeol, the boy who cried to the sound of his piano's tune.
Chanyeol carried him to the nearest hospital, legs shaking with fatigue as they reached. He'd refused to let go of him, persevering all the way until Baekhyun was safely in the hands of a nurse.
"You come too," Baekhyun said, looking at the boy's swollen eye (which was turning a nasty shade of purple), his bleeding nose and his beat-up body which could hardly stand straight.
"It's okay, I'm not hurt," Chanyeol insisted, waving a hand profusely. Baekhyun decided not to argue after spotting his faded Pokemon T-shirt which was several sizes too big, his well worn jeans which had rips on the knee area and the scuffed sneakers that didn't quite fit him. He couldn't dislodge the guilt wedged in his throat as he was pushed on a wheelchair to the doctor's office while Chanyeol stood outside, just as beat-up as he was but too poor to afford medical care.
The doctor cleaned his wounds and declared that his hand sported three broken fingers and a wounded nerve which resulted in his inability to move his fingers. Upon hearing this, Baekhyun's eyes burned, hot tears flowing down his swollen cheeks like lava flowing down the side of a volcano. He cried and cried at the injustice, at the stark realisation that he wouldn't be able to play the piano anymore. He tried moving his fingers, tried with all his will and strength, ignoring the jolts of blinding pain coursing throughout his hand, but it was no use.
His fingers remained motionless on the table, as good as dead.
The doctor tried to calm him, telling him soothing words that he'd be able to play the piano again as long as he went for physiotherapy, that it would take long but it was definitely possible, but Baekhyun knew, he knew that it was impossible. His grandparents weren't that rich to afford such extensive treatment and most importantly, his fingers couldn't move. Even if they were to recover, it would be impossible to play the piano to his past perfection or even to play simple tunes.
When Baekhyn emerged from the treatment ward with puffy eyes and a tear-streaked face, Chanyeol rushed up to him and swallowed him in a hug. He didn't speak, just stroked his hair and let him spill hot tears on his thin shirt, sobbing into his chest. Baekhyun cried at the comfort of Chanyeol's chest, the care the boy was showing him. It was the first time he had ever been subjected to such treatment and the emotions he had bottled up all his life overflowed in the form of hot, salty tears. He didn't know why Chanyeol was being so nice to him, why he had taken the blow for him, why he had carried him on his injured back one whole kilometre to the nearest hospital, and just why he was holding him, stroking his hair and letting him cry into his chest. He was afraid, afraid that after all this the boy would leave him and he would be back in his lonely world again, now without the ability to play the piano, his only refuge. He cried until he had no more tears left and his eyes were mere slits, red-rimmed and painful.
"It's okay now," Chanyeol whispered, flashing him a small smile. Baekhyun's lips quivered and if he had any more tears left, he would have started bawling again.
"He said--he said I can't play the piano anymore," he said, voice choked and shaky. "My hand--it--won't move. I tried, i r-really did, but it hurts and I can't move my fingers, I--I--"
Chanyeol shushed him, his rough thumbs gently wiping away the streaks of tears on his face. Baekhyun looked up at him.
The boy was crying for him.
Chanyeol waited with him till his grandparents came. The memory of how the boy stood alone in the corridor with blood smeared all over his cheek, waving at him happily was etched into his mind, the memory of his first friend, Park Chanyeol.