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tales-from-exo-planet · 5 years

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LYON II PATHCODES VOL. II

ACT III./Pt I. “Dirty Chai”

Length - 8,637

Mood - Amorous, Captivated

Pairing - Baekhyun x Reader

Warning - Mature for sexual references

“You’re perfect

I’ll fill up your empty heart

To the brim with me”

-Baekhyun “Stay Up” feat. Beenzino

You tucked the slim rose gold circle back into your pocketbook after checking your complexion once again.

The inside of the cafe he had suggested to meet, a blend of cream and taupe walls, sky blue ceiling and plates, silver and earthenware cups, and cherry wood furniture, a modern update to a cultural staple, was tranquil and enchanting as expected.

There were a mixture of students stopping to take a break from their studies, young couples side by side at tables sharing small café plates of tartine between them while enjoying a peaceful weekend, and elder patrons ordering an un déca to take to the terrace, the prime spot for people watching, the morning paper rolled and tucked against their side as they carried their cup out into the breezy afternoon air.

You’d taken a barstool window seat at the front, where you also observed the comings and goings of café patrons.

It was a non assuming, homey weekend in Lyon yet within your ribcage you felt as though your heart was spastically beating out of time every minute that he had yet to arrive.

You felt a jittery whirlwind of unbidden exhilaration and nerves after your chance reintroduction at L’ambassade.

You knew you weren’t fooling him with your, “my schedule should be clear soon. It’s just a crazy month,” texts.

In fact, every time you sent one of those after another “so what does your week look like?” texts from him he would call you after an hour, shifting the conversation to something entirely apart from what you had previously talked about, sharing an anecdote about his day, and always asking you more about yours. It was after one of those conversations that he met you again, somewhat at your invitation but moreso because you told him about the event, at a charity concert by a classical pianist spotlighting the entirety of Chopin’s Nocturnes. He came with a friend whom he introduced you to, an equally connected young man that disappeared from his side before the actual event leaving him alone to find a way to you without his wingman.

Later, on the phone, he continued to ask a lot about your hobbies; recreating Pinterest boards in your office as vision boards for potential clients complete with fabric and scent details, thrifting with your best friend whether here in Lyon or Marseille for vinyls, unique home decor, and vintage seasonal wear you liked as a reward to yourself for another happy customer, volunteering at the plant nursery you’d been going to since you were a child when they needed help, and told you about his; taking a foodie tour of the city with his grandmother and mother when she was in town to visit them, staying in after long stretches of activity for his radio broadcast to game, ordering in lunch and dinner at his studio’s practice room to try his hand at a new piano composition unbothered, spending time with his grandparents at their country home he had bought for them after his first paycheck to help around the house with their gardening only to be rewarded with a home cooked meal.

The conversations were unhurried and disarming, his tone of voice, always genial, growing warmer the more you shared.

Sometimes you were still confused at how two low key individuals would choose to meet one another in an environment altogether separate from their private big hearted, blissful personalities.

Why had he chosen to host that party?

Why had you chosen to go?

Couldn’t you have just as easily bumped into him while out thrifting with your mother and he, out on a foodie tour with his grandmother and mother?

Wouldn’t that have been more organic and natural to affection than to see each other as you had at L’ambassade, in the ambitious, commanding personas you reserved for the public?

”I hope to see you soon,” he’d say towards the end, in a hushed confiding tone and you’d pause hearing his hopes crumbling until you answered, “Mhm. If my schedule clears up.”

You confided in your best friend (Marseille Reader) after one such conversation, saying that “Mm what if it’s not all that I think it will be anyways. There’s nothing worse than having your time just...wasted. After all the anticipation…” But she made fun of you where you hoped to find someone to laugh with.

“I’m so through with you! After he hopped in the car to come have pizza and watch your favorite movie, your mother suddenly called and said that she had an accident at the shop in the middle of the night? I mean...I tried my best not to blow your cover but really____?”

You were sheepish at her blatant though truthful accusations about your dubious attempts to avoid being left alone with him.

“I thought you were IN LIKE with the guy! He was ALL you would talk about whenever you found the time and now when he hopped in the car, and ditched his own party, something Prince Charming didn’t even really do, need I remind you Cinderella, to get to know you, you’re going to text your mom and chicken out? I was too embarrassed to laugh.”

You took a breath to respond but knew that you couldn’t explain it away. You were out thrifting at the time and she had moved on to the next clothing rack by the time you’d thought of a response anyways.

As soon as she (Marseille Reader) had taken off from L’ambassade, you were texting your mother to call you with some excuse so that you could get out of this possible date slash round two of whatever you had started back at his party.

And much to your shame, she did call but asked you about “the spontaneous affair” later.

He was all you could talk about.

He was the person you had wanted to meet the most.

Well...one of the people you had wanted to meet the most.

It felt wrong to feel drawn to him, and to desire his presence as you did.

Whose presence do I desire?

It felt wrong now that he was looking at you, sharing not only your space but the sweat of your dance upon his own skin.

It felt too rushed.

Too soon.

How could you know something as surely as you felt within your soul that though he was a stranger to you in name, in touch, in scent, his aura told you otherwise.

Truer was he becoming to the drawing of happiness you had inactively but subconsciously crafted when thinking “this is the kind of man he will be.”

Could you trust that blueprint when you had failed before, falling for those who turned out to be fallen, faithless princes instead?

But I have known you before.

The whole world has known our story as some sugar spun fairytale but it’s real.

It’s before me, finally.

I can’t let the sun go down another day without being in your presence.

Without being by your side.

When he looked at you as you took that call from your mother.

When he called you after you sent another frightened “I need space” text.

You knew that he knew it.

He felt it.

And he waited.

More patiently than you honestly expected him to be.

His tone of voice was ever cheerful, ever sweet, ever thoughtful.

When you lied to him and to ___ (Marseille Reader) that you had to see about your Mom and hoped you could see him again another time, he paused. His entire being seemed to slow in motion, his head turning, though not suspiciously, but genuinely concerned that he had done something irrevocably wrong.

“I hope everything is ok?” Was all he said at first and the car was quiet as _____ (Marseille Reader) slowed at the light and made to turn the car around to return to the club.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine,” _____ (Marseille Reader) sighed as she came to a stop.

You felt your breath coming in high and fast as you waited for him to go.

“I really hope everything is ok. Maybe we can see the movie another time?” He asked, his inflection, meant to be both compassionate and trusting, drew your gaze from your screen where you looked at your mother’s most recent text.

“I thought you were at an event tonight. Why would you need an excuse to leave? Is everything ok? Are you safe?”

You tapped the button to darken the screen.

His eyes took you in, gauging your false worry and concern over your mother’s shop.

But though you were sure the lie you crafted was clear as the night’s starless sky, and that he was merely seeing the extent of the growing anxiety you were sweating to contain, he only gave a small, tender smile that lit his eyes with knowing.

“If it’s ok, I’ll call you later? Just to make sure you’re ok. Ok?”

And after so many phone calls, later here we finally are, you thought to yourself as he entered the cafe, took a cursory glance around the place and upon settling his eyes on you, smiling a smile that was for you and you alone.

As if to say, finally.

“________,” he greeted you as he came closer to your perch.

“Hi,” you smiled back, remembering your Mom’s hands in your hair that same night you fled to her shop.

“Don’t be afraid to love someone, _______. There were boys you met in school. You have had some heartbreaks now as a young adult. Things don’t always appear as they seem to be. We’ve talked about those times. We’ll talk about everything that happens no matter who it is. But life is about experience. Life is to be lived in both joy and pain, no matter what happened before. Don’t be afraid, my darling, my baby girl,” she smoothed her hands through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp as you turned your face into her stomach and cried.

————

“Café allongé? Really? I would have thought…”

You knew you were pulling a face and his eyes watched as you playfully judged his choice.

He sniffed at the dirty chai you ordered too before leaving the café.

“That smells so good. The dirty chai you ordered.” Did he have a thing for scents too?

“It’s one of my favorites. Have you ever tried a chai before? If you like café allongé you might like a dirty chai. It also has espresso in it but has more flavor from the milk and spices used. Milk drinks are more for breakfast but ah well. My mom uses cloves and fresh ginger when she makes it for me at home,” you stated, stopping beside him where you walked to bring the steaming to go cup up for him to smell.

Stepping closer to where you offered him your uncovered cup, he took a hearty inhale, nodding once with his eyes closed, a fan of golden brown lashes against his pinkened cheeks.

“That does smell delicious,” he said as he opened his eyes.

His eyes resembled the spice blend swirling beneath the steam from your uncovered cup.

Delicious, he had said in English.

The slight spring breeze carried his voice high above you, above the square framed by the Cathedral Saint Jean to the sun, beaming brightly atop the clouds.

You stood still moving carefully to replace the top without wasting your coffee all over yourself from nerves.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like more,” he said after you finished.

You could tell that he had watched you until you successfully replaced the top.

The nonchalant way his hand slid back into his pocket that wasn’t holding his coffee cup as if he was braced to pull the cup from you if it began to fall.

“What do you mean?” You asked, sipping briefly.

“I mean...I didn’t know if you would like to go out dancing again. You seemed to have so much fun when we were out,” he tilted his head back to swallow a large gulp.

The way he winced afterwards let you know that it was as bitter as you thought.

“Ah well dancing is fun too...it’s nice to just be out today. Thank you for inviting me,” you shook off his assumption that you were bored with his choice when it was entirely the opposite.

It was a beautiful spring afternoon in Lyon for window shopping, most specifically at Les Jouets des Anges, for his nephew and niece who were visiting next month.

“It’s just...if I can be honest with you I don’t go to nor do I host events like that often. I’m more of a homebody,” he chuckled at his sudden confession but it was the expression that came over his face that made you chuckle too.

“I can relate to that. After the past couple months of back to back to back schedules, it is so nice to just do something low key like today. What kind of gifts are you looking for?” You asked as you neared the shop’s ruby red and gold lettered facade.

You followed him into the shop, greeting the shopkeepers and waiting for him to explain his reason for stopping in, that he was looking for a unique doll for his niece and potentially a new toy car for his nephew.

You noticed the pauses between his phrases, as if he were searching for the right words to use and remembered that he had mentioned still not feeling as comfortable with using French as he was his native language, a revelation that made you think back to the combination of English, Korean, and French you had heard him using during his evening broadcast.

The shopkeepers brought you around the shop, showing you the best that they could offer, and he was considerate of their offers though you could tell that none of them were exactly the items that he was looking for.

You left without purchasing anything at all, and continued to wander together, another swift breeze wafting the citrus like scent of magnolias your direction.

“Ah, that's a shame that there wasn’t anything there. I know that she does have a doll at home but it’s dress is older and so I was hoping to find a new one,” he frowned as he suddenly brought his phone from his back pocket, and swiped at the screen.

“Here they are,” he spoke softly, and again you came closer until you both were standing beside the bench where the magnolia blossoms had fallen from their tree onto the seat.

He gingerly brushed the blossoms to the floor, making space for you both to sit side by side so that he could show you the photo.

She sat in his lap in the photo, a little boy whom you assumed to be her elder brother stood beside them where they sat, his head leaned on his uncle’s shoulder, who had his arms wrapped around them both.

You saw the doll and action figure he had mentioned to the shopkeeper only moments ago on the floor in their boxes, newly unwrapped Christmas presents.

Their sincere smiles melted the last dregs of your anxiety and you allowed yourself another deep exhale.

“They’re beautiful. Both of them. How old are they?” You asked and he brightened at your question, telling you all about his brother’s children whom would be visiting soon to celebrate his birthday with him.

“So most of your family still lives in South Korea, where you’re from?” You asked, turning towards him and placing your pocketbook against your stomach so that you could cross your legs.

He nodded, turning towards you as you turned, crossing his opposing leg, his arm stretched along the back of the bench, his phone tucked into his front pocket, his left hand on his thigh.

“Yes my grandparents and I are the only ones who emigrated here when I started school. My parents could not afford to come too, otherwise they would have. My brother and his wife were just starting their family when I planned to move so they weren’t able to come too,” he spread the fingers of his left hand wide along his thigh as he pushed and pulled his palm along the fabric.

“Why Lyon of all places in France?” You asked, genuinely curious as he pursed his lips, a gesture that told you that he was again thinking about how to say what was on his mind in a way that you would understand.

“Well back home, my brother, my father, and I, and a lot of men in our country are required to enter military service within a certain time period. I decided to go in as soon as I was old enough to do so because my parents and I had discussed what I would like to do in my professional career.”

“I have always loved music and had learned to play the piano when I was very young. There was a piece I learned in school by a French composer and I thought that in addition to learning about genres from other countries that maybe it would be interesting to travel and live in a different country. I did not know any French when I decided to come here for my studies but I thought I could learn and just give it a try.”

“So my grandparents decided to move with me. My grandmother teased me and said it wasn’t realistic to send me off on my own to a foreign place where she could not be sure I would eat well.”

He paused at this part of the story as you giggled at another of his shameless admissions, a quirk of a meek smile spreading from one corner of his mouth to the other.

“How could you just uproot your grandparents like that for the sake of food?” You quipped and he laughed aloud, shaking his head and hands simultaneously, “아니, 아니!”

“But you haven’t even tried my grandmother’s cooking. There’s just something about home cooking, you know,” he said in his own defense and you laughed all the more, falling forward and doubling over at his shamelessness.

You hadn’t meant to reach out to brace yourself against him, one hand on his thigh while the other arm cradled your own stomach.

But he didn’t pull away from your touch.

Instead you felt him lean to shift his weight and allow himself to support you.

You sobered up, leaning back, brushing your curls away from your face.

His eyes followed your assent, his cheeks somehow pinker as a sudden glimmer took over his gaze.

“So you moved your dear grandparents here from their home and then you went to Conservatoire National Superieur de Musique et de danse de Lyon for piano pedagogy?” You remembered that had come up during one of your initial conversations after you confessed that you wanted to take your time before considering seriously talking to anyone. Especially with the way that you had met. It’s easy to get confused.

He apologized immediately, thinking that you were assuming that he was only interested in coming back to your place with you and your best friend potentially for...well.

“Yes, they moved with me and I stayed with them on the weekends especially when my family came to visit and during the holidays. I think my grandmother especially was worried not only about my diet but also about my being alone without anyone to talk to.”

“That was another reason that I started my radio program. I wanted to work on using French more and more often. I had experience during my high school years doing a radio broadcast for our school as well. But in college it was different as all things are. I had a lot more freedom in my programming and tried to make it more than just being about myself. I’m not sure when it started to be shared outside of the school circulation but eventually I was approached by producers to make this a regular gig after I completed my training. I was surprised to be received as well as I was and happy that my French improved, even just a little.”

His smile was shy when you nodded and said that you could understand him.

“I think it would be wonderful to learn a new language. I of course know French, but also English, and Portuguese. It would be interesting to learn Korean. The more you are able to rely on yourself and not have to hire outside to supplement needs, the more marketable you are. Definitely worth it to try to pick up a new language if you have the time,” you said, meaning every word that you said.

He seemed to take you at your word, leaning slightly closer to you.

“Also, if you’re still looking for a new dress for your niece’s doll, I...may know a dressmaker that can help you out. Would you be ok with sending me that picture? When would you need the dress by?” You asked, pulling your phone from where it was tucked within your pocketbook.

He gasped at your offer and looked shocked at the sincere way you looked at him, your phone cradled in your hands.

“I...you don’t have to do that. I have been looking on and off but just have not found anything that looks right for her. Or him. That’s so nice of you to offer. Really.” Again, his really was in English.

“Well I don’t mind. Really.” You intoned as he did, his shy smile beaming ever brighter.

“I…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as a blush bloomed against his neck.

You tucked your hair behind your ear, placing your chin on your hand anchored by your knee, blinking at him expectantly.

He exhaled aloud, blowing a raspberry as he tapped through his phone and you felt your phone buzzing within your palms.

“Thank you,” he had written below the photo now in your inbox.

______________

The evening fast approaching, he drove you back to your flat after you took another walk along the streets, from which you had walked to meet him earlier that afternoon, his hand fidgeting on the stick shift where your hand rested on your own thigh only inches away.

___________

“So should I send the items to your grandparents or should I bring it to you whenever we meet again?” You asked after you shut the door to his Audi and met him on the sidewalk where he stood waiting for you.

He flushed again at your mention of meeting again.

Before you left the Cathedral’s square, he had asked you out to coffee again or maybe dinner out to which you had agreed.

“That’s up to you and also the dressmaker. Would it be ready when we see each other again? Did you want to go out again tomorrow? Or next week?” He asked, as you stepped closer, your heels clicking against the pavement as you went.

“Mm that is true. It would be a shame if it was not ready in time. Is it ok if I have your grandparents’ address then?” You asked, offering him your phone which he took, stepping closer still, to type the address in the note you’d left open under the title “Operation: Toy Delivery.”

He smirked at the title, slipping the phone from his hand to yours so that your hands overlapped and for a moment his hand held yours.

“I was serious about improving my French, if you were serious about learning Korean,” he said, your eyes dancing from his eyes down to his broad shoulders in his trench coat that towered above you, the sun crowning him in its rays.

You were a breath apart now but you spoke in your normal voice, feeling the vibrations bounce back to you as you stood within the cradle of his broad chest.

“So next time, French and Korean lessons?”

“Just next time?” He asked, the end of his question lifting in wonder.

You watched his lips form each syllable he uttered in English.

“Well...it depends on the level you want to reach,” you breathed.

And his smirk broadened.

“I want to be proficient,” he said, again in English.

Now you were flushed to the soles of your feet.

But you smiled all the more, relaxing ever more.

His gaze was ever watchful and when you smiled, when you really smiled, he took your hands in his where they were clasped in front of you keeping your pocketbook still where it rested against your stomach.

His touch was gentle, as you expected, his slim fingers weaving through yours.

“내 미소로 너의 미소의 아름다움을 만지고 싶다,” he whispered in the most tender tone.

“I...what did that mean?” You shivered, coming further into his embrace, the sun falling to insignificance behind him.

“I want to touch the beauty of your smile with my smile,” he whispered, his tone ever more tender as he waited for you to realize what he had asked.

You felt a quivering in your knees but held his hands more firmly, tipping forward and up towards him to kiss the corner of his mouth.

He bit his lip as you settled back on your feet, his hands still holding yours tightly.

You stepped further into his embrace and lifted yourself up again on your toes, feeling him bring you closer, his head turning just in time.

_______________

Two weeks later

He sent you a photo of the gift on his grandparents’ dining table, and a video of his niece and nephew opening the gifts while squealing in delight at the matching outfits for both of the children and each of their toys, crafted by your mother at your request, unbeknownst to him.

You looked at the tag “from your uncle’s good friend” you had written coyly and wondered if he had thought you were passively aggressively friendzoning him.

He called you later that night to thank you again.

“You really didn’t have to do that. I can’t tell you how much they loved the outfits and the extra toys you sent. My brother and his wife, my parents, my grandparents, they all want to thank you personally. It was such a nice gift, ______,” his tone reverent.

______________

A week later

Weaving his fingers between yours once you stepped up to the sidewalk from the car, you walked once again alongside the magnolias, a chattering of birds following you as you spoke together translating phrases and teaching one another new ones.

“너는 오늘 너무 아름다워”

“J'aime cette couleur sur vous”

“나는 너와 함께 시간을 보내는 것을 정말 좋아한다”

“J'ai hâte de vous revoir”

His kisses at your door that night were ever more demonstrative in their tenderness.

The way he cupped your cheeks in his palms, and cradled you into his chest, swaying slightly when you wrapped your arms around his waist, accepting his warmhearted embrace.

___________

Two days later

“But why didn’t you tell me that your mother made them? I...I would like to pay her back-”

“But that’s the point of a gift. It’s not about paying me back. I paid for the fabric and I did also pay my Mom for her time. I know better than that,” you chuckled, picking up your fork to get another bite from the cake you two were sharing.

He pulled the plate of cake from your reach, so that you had to look at him.

“I’m serious, _____. I haven’t even met your mother yet. But my family knows all about these gifts and about you. I would like to meet her and tell her thank you, myself,” he insisted, his tone dropping into his chest.

“Well...ok then, Boss,” you said, reaching for the plate of cake, which he gave to you after holding it away from your grasp a moment longer, kissing and sucking away the cream at the corner of your mouth.

“Was that so hard,” he laughed at your bashful frown.

____________

Two weeks later

“This is my grandmother and mother. 할머니, 엄마 this is ____, and her mother,” he gestured between the three women, the jade green 청자 vases he had ordered and his brother had brought back with him on the center table of your mother’s floral shop.

Your mother, her eyes large as saucers at the size and variety of the vases, quickly began to ask the sweet women, his grandmother and mother, about traditional floral arrangements. He sat between his mother, grandmother and your mother and you sat opposite him helping them to understand one another in their mutual excitement that you felt had less to do with the vases the longer you listened.

_____________

That same week of your birthday

“I trust you, but I don’t trust the sidewalk,” you laughed, feeling his gait slow to awkward shuffling steps framing your tentative ones.

“I won’t let you fall. I promise,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the top of your ear before letting his hands fall.

“Lumière Fourmi closed for an exclusive event...” you gasped at the title, Ever After, showing in each of the window panes.

He took your hand in his, ushering you through the front doors where a banner sparkled under the pearl white ceiling lights.

“Happy Birthday, _____”

——————————-

After a shared bucket of popcorn while cuddling in the plush velvet seats

“Monsieur, Madame, your dessert has arrived,” your lone attendant of the evening announced as he wheeled the cake tray in, complete with a frosted ice bucket of champagne.

After handing the matches to him, they bowed and made their exit.

He sat up, lighting each of the candles one by one, spelling your name.

He sang you the birthday song, his voice like his embrace, warm-hearted, and buttery like toffee, in French.

You clapped enthusiastically, tears in your eyes as you leaned forward to kiss him in thanks.

“마음에 드세요?” He drawled, seemingly happily dizzy from your successive kisses.

“응! 너무 좋아! 정말 고마워!” You took his cheeks in your hands, leaning forward to kiss him again.

He held you to him after the last kiss, murmuring throatily, “Serez-vous ma petite amie?”

Though at this point you knew it was purely a formality, you sat back, his hands resting on your mid back.

“Mille fois oui,” you answered, your gaze straightforward and your heart clear.

_______________________

After a mouthful of cake sweetened kisses

“What movie did you learn that phrase from? I didn’t teach you that,” you joked, snuggling into his arms, as the credits began to roll.

He rolled his eyes, licking his lips after a beat.

“사랑에 빠진 사람은 한계를 모른다,” he murmured between kisses.

_____________________

Finally, at your apartment later that evening

“Wow, this is such a beautiful place, ______,” he said the moment that you led him into your flat.

“Thank you,” you said, pulling down at the hem of the sleeve of his trench coat as he stood in wonder.

He looked down at where you tugged at him and giggled as he shrugged out of his trench coat, and waited for you to hang it at the door before you let him know to make himself comfortable.

He stepped out of his dress shoes at the door, placing them so that their toes faced the door, before he walked towards the living area where your curtains were held open.

You moved through your apartment, dreamily, gathering blankets, pillows, placing a new unopened toothbrush on the bathroom counter that you bought for yourself but hadn’t opened yet.

He stood at the window, leaned against the pane, viewing the street below where his car was parked across the street after bringing you both back to your flat.

You stood, unable to move closer.

Though not entirely in fear.

But in peaceful stillness.

In absolute incandescent happiness.

“This has been such a great birthday,” you announced, seeing him jolt slightly at the sudden sound of your voice.

He turned to walk towards you, and you met him in the middle of your hardwood living room floor.

“I’m sorry that I kept you out so late. I hope it’s ok that I stay just this once,” he winced and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I insisted that you come by instead of driving all the way back to your grandparents. I would have been worried if something happened to you out there at this time of night. You forget that both your grandmother and mother have my number.”

He shrugged, his eyes drifting to the blankets and pillows in your arms.

“Let me help you with these then?” He offered and took them, placing them on your sofa and you followed to sit beside him.

Sitting which inevitably became cuddling.

“I’m embarrassed at how easy it is to end up like this,” you admitted into his neck, feeling his throaty chuckle against your lips.

“Is it bad that I’m not?” He murmured, wrapping his arms around you.

“That makes you sound like a player though,” you said, leaning out of his arms, to gauge his reaction.

His brow rose at your insinuation.

“I…?”

He released you from his chest, taking your hands in his instead.

“I don’t want there to be misunderstandings between us. I’m not here for any other reason than that I really truly like you. But I feel like there’s a barrier between us no matter how sincere I am. Please help me to understand that,” he spoke in low tones, the pads of his thumbs gently tracing the veins on the backs of your hands.

Could he feel the jump in your pulse at his heartfelt inquiry?

“...well…”

“We don’t have to go too fast. I’m not asking you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I can leave if you feel burdened. I don’t want to harm you, ____. Ever,” he brought your hands to his lips, kissing the back and hearts of your palms twice.

“I’m not afraid of you touching me. Or holding me. It’s not the physical intimacy that scares me. I can feel our hearts becoming closer the longer we spend time together moving at a pace that seems rushed when I think about the amount of time we’ve actually spoken to one another.”

“But my heart says another thing. My heart wants more time. More and more time. It’s so easy to talk with you. To spend time with you. To just be.”

“But do you really, ____? Sometimes I feel that our hearts are in the same place. I feel that we both feel safe together. And that you’re beginning to trust me. But then I can feel you pulling away as if you want to hide instead of remaining in the same place with me. Is there something about me that makes you feel uncomfortable?”

He kept his eyes on the back of your palms, tracing your veins with his forefinger as he gradually let your joined hands drop between you both.

“I…”

How messy was it to explain the gaps between your fingers where he held onto you more tightly than you held onto him?

How soon was too soon to reveal all that you feared?

But he had become close to the entrance to your heart.

He chose to wait there.

Sincerely, just as he said.

“You don’t have to tell me everything at once. But I want you to know that when you are ready that you can tell me everything. I want to know.” He waited for some time before speaking, continuing his gentle rotations against the back of your palm.

Don’t be afraid to love someone, _______.

Life is to be lived in both joy and pain, no matter what happened before.

Don’t be afraid, my darling, my baby girl.

You fidgeted, pulling your hands from his embrace, to cradle his instead.

You brought his hands, the backs of his palms, his fingers, then turned his hands to their center to your lips as well.

He exhaled, slowly. Allowing you to turn him this way and that.

Closing your eyes, you repeated the gesture before bringing his hands to your heart, pressing down until you could feel your heartbeats, his through his hands, and yours atop his.

He leaned forward, brushing the bridge of his nose along the hill of your cheek.

“Please be careful with me,” you whispered, shivering as he kissed the center of your cheek, moving glacially towards your lips.

Then your hands, yours and his, pulled each other closer.

Breaking apart, he hummed against your lips.

“Please be careful with me, also.”

You answered in kind with another kiss.

__________________

7:00 am, the morning of your actual birthday

You awoke curled into his chest, feeling him shiver as you stirred again in his arms, turning into his neck.

Your clothes from the day before that you both still wore were rumpled where they had been pressed and freshly laundered for the surprise special showing he had gifted you the evening before.

His dress shoes were still at the door.

Your pumps had somehow ended up beside them.

He moaned as you shifted your weight, pulling yourself up to a seated position.

His arms followed you where you went, his hands drifting down to your waist, his fingers twitching slightly as you continued to move.

You turned to look at him, seeing that he was still asleep, his lips puffed and bruised as were yours.

You blushed as your eyes trailed to the right of his lips, focusing on his chin, his neck and where his dress shirt were unbuttoned exposing his clavicle.

There you had left your marks.

Seeing his made you bring your hand to your own that he had made; love bites on both sides of your neck, the top of your left shoulder and the stretch of skin just above the mound of your left breast.

Your phone chimed in your purse on the counter and you stood up quickly, hearing him gasp and groan in his sleep.

You made it in time to catch it on the third ring, answering it as you swiped your purse from the counter and hurried down the hall to your bedroom.

“______! Happy birthday love!” _____ (Marseille Reader) exclaimed as soon as you answered, blowing her kazoo into the mouth piece of her phone.

You laughed hoarsely, muffling the volume of the sound.

You thanked her as you started your shower, creating another barrier for your conversation.

“Am I catching you at a bad time? Are you on your way out already? Why is your voice so husky? Is he…? Wait!-”

“Could you be any more nosy?” You sighed to which she laughed.

“Well a very happy birthday to you girl. I’ll hang up now. Text me when you have a minute ok?”

You hung up after you both said goodbye, texting her quickly.

“We didn’t. If that’s what you’re thinking. He just stayed over after we came back from the theater. We slept together but not...not like that.”

Three dots.

“Are you ok? How do you feel about things? I know you’ve been anxious about it for awhile.”

You placed your phone on its designated dish for when you brought it to the bathroom, and went back to your bedroom to place your purse on its hook.

“I’m still nervous about everything. I don’t know why though. You’ve known me long enough to know what I am always like.”

The three dots flashed quicker this time.

“What makes it so different this time?”

You undressed, thinking about her question as you washed your hair, scratching your scalp in slow methodical circles.

When you were rinsed clean, you hurried to change into comfortable sweats, grabbing your hair brush from its holder in your bathroom but turning round in a circle stunned to see that your leave in conditioner was missing.

“Where-”

You went to grab your phone, swiping to open a happy birthday text from your Mom.

“Thank you! I’ll call you in a little bit ok?” You responded quickly before going back to _____‘s (Marseille Reader) text message from before.

“Obviously every situation is different. But...it’s just the way he completely reads me, _____ (Marseille Reader.)”

A question mark.

“Last night we talked after we got back and he wants our relationship to move forward. He officially asked me yesterday. And somehow he realized that though I said and meant yes, I was also still feeling wary about it. And he asked me why? And when I was wondering why he would be willing to trust me so completely, my mom’s voice came back to me telling me that trust is part of the process. No one can really guarantee that things won’t happen.”

“Mmhm”

“Trust is part of the process.”

You felt your hair dripping on your bare shoulder.

“You deserve to be loved the way he wants to love you, _____. Don’t you think you deserve to be wanted and loved like that? If you don’t think you’re ready for that then don’t lead him on. But if you want to love him then don’t be afraid to want and accept that.”

________________

“I’m sorry,” you cried out as you almost collided with him in the hallway.

“I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed also, catching you where you had almost fallen to jump away from him in time as he approached.

“I just wanted to come take a shower because it sounded like you were done. Is that ok? Can I use the towel that you left out? I should have brought some things with me but I didn’t think I would stay over,” his chuckle was nervous as if he was worried that you were going to rescind your invitation.

But you shook off your nerves, reaching out to take his hand in yours to lead him to your bathroom.

“Your hair is different from how it usually is ,” he said aloud, his eyes surveying every wet curl atop your head.

“Yea...I was coming out to get my conditioner that I left in the living room. I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you since you still seemed tired-”

“Oh no I’m fine. So what will you do to your hair now? Just let it dry?” He asked, reaching out a hand to touch one of your curls.

“I’ll be right back if you want to wait right here?” You asked, and left him to look around to find a chair to sit in, hurrying quickly to your guest bathroom to find your leave in conditioner bottle that you had left on the window sill the day before.

You returned to your bedroom to find him looking at the picture frames on your writing desk, those of you and your mother, _____ (Marseille Reader) and you on holiday, you outside of your university holding your diploma.

You moved around him, allowing him to see what he wanted, turning on your radio.

You went into the bathroom, hearing him stir at your writing desk as he watched you go past.

After hunting for your comb you went to sit at your bathroom bench, spritzing your hair with your leave-in conditioner spray you concocted before you began to comb through and part your hair.

You heard him before you saw him at the door of your bathroom, “you can come in. If you want to sit beside me?”

He came slowly, his footsteps soft on your marble floor.

You felt him come closer until he sat down beside you and you shifted over, giving him room.

He sat quietly, watching you as you braided your hair and put it into a bun.

“What’s in that spray bottle? It smells like coconut and something else delicious,” he asked, as you turned back to him, handing him the unopened toothbrush after putting your hair care items away and washing your hands.

“I’ll tell you as soon as you shower ok? What would you like for breakfast?”

__________________

After breakfast, your mother’s chai tea recipe, baguettes, strawberries, and 길거리 토스트, something he asked for but wasn’t positive of the recipe for, you cleaned up the living room and you both moved into your bedroom.

You called your mother back while he showered earlier and she planned to invite both him and his family if they were available for your traditional birthday dinner at her home.

When you asked him over breakfast, if he and they were available later this evening or tomorrow depending on their schedules, he immediately called his mother who called your mother to arrange the dinner for the following evening.

“Did you call off your schedule for the rest of today too?” You chuckled, when he announced that everything was arranged.

He sighed after a long sip of chai, rolling his neck side to side as if he were finally waking up, saying, “I didn’t have anything else scheduled for this weekend. I go back in on Tuesday to record again. I planned ahead. I have time.”

“Time for me?” You asked, enjoying the warmth in your hands from your cup of chai.

“Time for us,” he smiled in return.

_________________

“Come here,” you said, standing with his hands cradling yours.

He followed where you led down the hall past your kitchen, past the half guest bathroom, further down the hall to your bedroom, weaving his fingers between yours in a solid embrace.

You led him to your room, leaving him at the door to get your picture frame.

He waited by the door, not crossing the threshold, until you gave him permission.

_________________

“This love, this love

This love, this love

Let me feel the love, you get to know me

Figured that soul, I hold you only

Take him in and chilling, we keep it rolling

Let me get a hit of, you feeling on me

Let me feel the depth as you get to know me

Figured that soul, I hold you only

Take him in and chilling, we keep it rolling

Let me get a hit of, you feeling on me”

You laid side by side as Cassie sang, her voice tinging the light of the sun’s descent filtering into your bedroom from your curtains in bashful pinks, and deeper reds.

His hand held yours, slipping his fingers between yours, rubbing his thumbs against the inside of the heel of your palm.

You turned, your eyes finding his first where he watched you.

“이쪽으로 오세요,” he whispered, his other arm reaching up and over, creating within himself a circle for you to fill.

You went, snuggling into his chest with your ear over his heart. His arms held you close, one of his hands drifting higher to your now dried hair. At first he petted your hair, gently teasing stray curls from your bun, and eventually his fingers inched along your scalp, scratching you in all the right spots.

You moaned against him, writhing closer.

Until he suddenly stopped.

You opened your eyes just as he reached his hand that had been in your hair beneath your chin, tilting your face up to him, his kiss full and passionate.

You pulled him, by his broad shoulders, wrapping yourself around him, as he turned with you, bringing your thighs around him, his palms spreading along your skin.

“Mm,” he kissed the tender love bites he’d created earlier that morning at dawn, and nosed down further as you pulled at your sweatshirt.

You helped each other out of your clothes, down to your silk and his cotton, chasing each new reveal with another kiss, and another until finally you were free.

He shyly pulled away when you pulled him closer by his hips.

“I-”

“Are you ready or are we moving too fast?” He asked immediately.

You brought your hands to your chest, covering yourself.

“I don’t...if you don’t want to be together...I really don’t want to do this…” he said, his eyes looking and you hushed him with your lips realizing then that you were both nervous about whether you were in the same head space.

“I want to. Je veux.”

“Moi aussi.”

__________

“Mm…” he let out a long low moan as your kisses drifted from his neck.

To alternate between sucking and blowing hotly against his nipples, his chest, his stomach.

He bucked against your sudden kiss at his hips.

The way that you slowly opened your mouth, nibbling at the indent of his hip bone.

While he focused there, panting open mouthed, you reached, sliding an open hand down, past his belly button pushing past curls of hair, grasping him.

“____,” groaning your name at first, you felt him still against you as you opened your mouth.

“Ha...I,” he squirmed involuntarily but towards you.

____________

He was buzzing in your ear, humming as he breathed you in.

You turned into his embrace, your back flush against his chest.

He cradled you, making himself a throne upon which you reigned.

His hands were at your breasts where his mouth had been before he turned you over.

You pulled one of his hands from your breast, as his lips pressed into your neck, murmuring drunkenly against you your name over and over and over.

“Vous pouvez aussi me toucher ici,” you murmured rotating your hips as you brought his hand down further past your belly button, past the silk, past your curls, to you.

“Vous êtes si doux et doux même ici,” he bit at your neck, sucking the skin there as he placed his hand above yours, following your movement.

___________

He turned you to him, taking a handful of your hair in his hands, helping you closer with his other hand spread wide against your behind, as he rocked you higher and higher.

“B-Baekhyun!” in tears you said his name again and again.

__________

“Seeing you again at my party after that first winter we happened to meet left me empty. I tried to wait until we could see each other by chance. But I found myself asking and wondering more. I found every chance to ask about you. But how could I find a way to casually see you being that our careers are what they are?”

“When I saw you again _____. I can’t tell you what it meant to know you were coming.”

You pressed a sleepy, tearful kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“I’m surprised you didn’t give up…” you whispered huskily.

“How can I? My heart belongs to you. There’s nowhere I can go without thinking of you. Not even to sleep, ____. You’re with me always.” He kept a hand at the small of your back, circling from there to the rise of your bottom, while his other hand held your thigh ascending to your knee. He held you to him, with your thigh wrapped over his hip.

“Always?” You asked, your hand that rested on his rising and falling chest, moving up to turn his face down to you.

“Always,” he nodded, nuzzling you and turning until he rested his head on your breast.

You scratched at his scalp and neck, stirring and writhing against him as his drowsy kisses again became urgent.

“B-Baek-Hyun-Ah please…”

How did he know that you liked it like this?

How did he know that you needed him to touch you there?

“Ah foda-se...ha!”

Like that.

Again.

“...please”

More.

“Come here baby,” he murmured against your brows, one hand in your hair, as his other held your thigh, pulling you together until you were blissfully one, again.

____________

#EXO Pathcodes AU #baekhyun fanfic #Lyon x Baekhyun #Lyon #Human Realm #Universe Gamma

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