Chanyeol x Baekhyun
Warnings: Angst, mentions of death
NC-17 (even though the fanfic doesn't contain explicit sex, I rated like this because of its distubing themes)
A doll shouldn't be able to dream. A doll shouldn't be able to think.
A doll shouldn't be able to feel.
And yet, Baekhyun falls in love with Chanyeol day after day.
“I am Park Chanyeol. I’m going to take care of you from now on.”
The soft, though wobbly voice is enough to make Baekhyun wake from his sleep, and at first the brightness hurt his brown eyes, but he can’t blink neither try to close them. He can’t even try to avoid it, he can’t run away from its glaring light since he can’t move. It takes him a few seconds until he realizes that he can’t breathe either, that he is motionless as a dead body, although he doesn’t feel like death has reached him yet.
When the sun’s clarity isn’t affecting his sight anymore, he manages to catch a glimpse of the voice’s owner. He has dark brown hair and his eyes are the same color, and he can see that he’s smiling. Baekhyun assumes that himself is smiling as well, because Chanyeol seems really pleased with his expressions. The first thing he notices is that the boy has the prettiest face he’s ever seen, – though he’s never seen anyone besides him – and he likes how his lips are not too small, neither too big, and he wonders if Chanyeol sees that he’s staring at them because he starts laughing and God, his laughter is so pure, so comfortable to hear–
“You have the most beautiful eyes, Baekhyun.” He speaks, and Baekhyun is surely mesmerized by the way his mouth moves, the way he licks his pink lips as he keeps smiling widely at him.
Hearing his own name in someone else’s mouth feels quite odd, though he thinks it’s okay because it’s the pretty boy with the rosy lips who’s saying it. Baekhyun is really confused right now, and he knows that he should be afraid of being conscious and not being able to make his muscles work, albeit Chanyeol’s voice makes him forget all that.
“You must like my lips, don’t you? You seem to keep staring at them…” Chanyeol mutters, and for a moment he thinks he’s getting scolded, and immediately he looks away: if he could blush, his cheeks would certainly be in a bright red right now. However, the boy doesn’t stop smiling, not even for a second, and Baekhyun wonders what got him that happy. The mere thought that maybe he was the one who got him like that passes through his mind, but he quickly erases it. “Let’s go, Baekhyun, I bet you’re tired.”
And when Chanyeol carefully places him in his arms, carrying him to the bedroom, Baekhyun sees a giant box thrown in the middle of the hall. It’s big enough to fit someone of his size inside, and he squeezes his eyes, trying to read what’s written on the front.
“You are now the proud owner of a Living Doll. Baekhyun is its name.”
A… doll? This word seems to be stuck in his brain, repeating itself several times, and it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make sense at all. How can he be a doll and still be able to think and to see? But, according to the box, he’s a living doll.
And as a living doll, all Baekhyun can do as Chanyeol places him on the bed is smile, sitting motionless as it’s expected of him.
Time is a complex concept for Baekhyun, mostly when he passes his days laying down, looking at the musty wall and wondering how someone beautiful as Chanyeol can spend his life in a place like this. He’s pretty sure he’s memorized every crack of the ceiling, since it’s his hobby to count them. There’s nothing for him to do when his ‘owner’ is working except analyzing every detail of the melancholic room.
The nights are his favorite parts, because Chanyeol comes back, and he always speaks with a smooth voice, always smiling at him. Baekhyun soon learns that Chanyeol likes singing, and he often sings for him to sleep – though he never does, he just pretends to make the boy happy.
“I had a tough day at work, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol says as he sits on the bed, holding his unnaturally soft hand, turning the TV on cause he seems to like having a background noise. “I’m glad I’m back. What did you do today?”
‘I watched how your house is a mess. I also noticed the ripped picture in the frame… why are you alone in there? What’s the missing half?’ he wants to answer, but all he does is smile. He always smiles.
“You must have had fun, mm?” Chanyeol speaks, gently squeezing his hand. Baekhyun likes his touches, he likes how warm his skin is, he likes how he is friendly with him. “And you must be tired, aren’t you? I’m tired too. Do you want me to tell you a story?”
Of course, there’s no vocal answer, but Baekhyun tries to tell him that yes, he wants. He loves when Chanyeol tells him stories, when he tells him tales about forgotten kingdoms and princesses. Sometimes, Baekhyun compares himself to the sleeping beauty, and he wonders if a kiss from Chanyeol would make him wake up.
Soon enough Baekhyun learns that a kiss didn’t change anything. In fact, it did; it made things worse.
It’s a cold afternoon as they are watching another movie together, but in that special day Chanyeol seems to be more lonely than usual. He’s too clingy, holding Baekhyun’s hand and leaning on his shoulder. Baekhyun likes it, he likes to be useful for him, since he uses to think of himself as a worthless thing, something that can’t do anything besides listening to his owner and smile as he talks about everything and anything. At least, when he’s cuddling with Chanyeol, he can help him feel better.
For sure Baekhyun wasn’t expecting that, when the movie ended, Chanyeol would turn to his side and stare at his him. He couldn’t imagine that he would shut his eyes and move closer, gently cupping his face, caressing his slightly reddish cheeks, and that he would press his lips against his, kissing him softly. Baekhyun can’t close his eyes, and he wished he could, because maybe, just maybe, the magic would have worked, and he could wake up from the spell, just like Sleeping Beauty did.
But he’s still a doll when Chanyeol pulls away. The only difference is that he’s a doll who has fallen in love with his human owner.
Baekhyun knows he shouldn’t. He knows it’s awfully wrong, that it’s painfully impossible, but he can’t help it. Not when Chanyeol starts kissing him more often, starts calling him baby , and Baekhyun is more than happy in being his baby, his love.
Instead of spending his days counting the cracks on the ceiling, Baekhyun observes the details of the room. There’s definitely a change in the way Chanyeol makes the bed, and he can see that the place is slightly tidier than it used to be. The ripped photo is still there, but one day Chanyeol decides to paint the dirty walls, so it will lighten up the area where Baekhyun lives. It’s their room, as Chanyeol uses to say, and that’s why it has to be pretty.
“I’m not feeling very well, baby.” Chanyeol says one day when he’s back from work, and Baekhyun can see it on his eyes. It pains him so much, it makes his heart – if he even has one – sting, because he can’t kiss him and tell him it’s going to be alright. “But your smile will make me feel better, right? Your smile is what makes me keep going, you know that, don’t you?”
It’s the first time Baekhyun is actually glad that he can’t stop smiling. He needs to make Chanyeol feel better, and he tries as hard as he can to look like he’s really happy, wanting to cheer him up.
And Baekhyun is surely confused when Chanyeol starts crying instead. The glistening tears are rolling along his pale cheeks, painful sobs escaping from his pink lips, and he hides his face with his hands, as if Baekhyun can’t see him.
‘Why are you crying? I’m smiling for you, baby.’
Without hesitating, Chanyeol throws himself on Baekhyun’s arms, hugging him and sobbing on his shoulders. Baekhyun wonders what got him that sad, and he just wished he could do something, that he could hug him back, that he could whisper to him that he shouldn’t be crying like that, because he is so much prettier when he is smiling.
But he is a doll, and all he can do is sit and smile, sit and stare as Chanyeol desperately clings to him, sit and listen to him saying he’s so fucking sorry.
“Jongin says I should go look for help.” Chanyeol speaks, and he’s staring at Baekhyun. His eyes aren’t as sparkling as they used to be, there are dark circles under them, and he knows the boy isn’t sleeping well. “I shouldn’t listen to him. I have everything I need right here.”
On that night, Chanyeol doesn’t tell him a story before going to bed. He is too busy crying whilst reading an old journal, and Baekhyun can swear he hears him whispering his name.
In one of the stories Chanyeol told him, there was a girl who had to wear a mask in order to survive. Baekhyun can see that Chanyeol was wearing one when they first met, because he isn’t that smiling boy he thought he was. His eyes are often tearful, mostly when he stares at him, or when he talks to him; Baekhyun assumes it’s because he can’t answer. It’s surely saddening as Chanyeol spends his days speaking with a doll, and his voice is the only noise that fills the small room.
“Sleep well, baby.” Chanyeol always says; Baekhyun wanted he could wish him the same. “Have sweet dreams.” Most of the time, Baekhyun thinks Chanyeol is being silly in saying those things, since he’s a doll and he surely can’t dream.
However, after Chanyeol sleeps with his face tear-stained, Baekhyun dreams.
The grass feels smooth under their bare feet, and they are both laying on a hill, watching the stars. It’s something they used to love doing together, and their fingers are linked as they are holding hands. Baekhyun is laying his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder, feeling how sweet his smell is, and he surely adores his perfume. He likes hearing him talking about the constellations, pointing to the sky and trying to make him see the Orion, when he sees nothing but a bunch of sparkling dots.
“You really aren’t normal, Chanyeollie.” Baekhyun speaks, peering at him. When Chanyeol asks why, he simply shrugs and smiles. “Normal people don’t know all the constellation names.”
“Will you mock me when I find a new constellation and name it as Baekhyun?”
“That’s a stupid name for a constellation!” He laughs, moving a little away so he can sit down. “You can give my name to a star, though. That would be romantic.”
“Mmm.” Chanyeol hums, sitting down too and cupping his face, stroking his soft skin. “That will do. I will find a star and give your name to it.”
“Oh God. You’re surely a dork.” He says, giggling. “I was joking! You can’t even name a star, you idiot.”
“Of course I can.” Chanyeol answers, stealing a kiss from him. “You’re my star, Baekhyun.”
When Baekhyun wakes up, he still is a doll. But the dream felt too real, too meaningful, and when he looks at Chanyeol he knows there’s something that he’s hiding. There must be a reason for why he lives in that complete mess, for why he doesn’t listen to his friends anymore, for why he cries some nights whilst sobbing that he’s sorry. Why would someone as pretty as Chanyeol be so unhappy? Sometimes he looks like he’s the motionless one, the dying one, and he does look more and more with a doll. Chanyeol’s skin is white because of the lack of sun, so pale that it seems like he’s made of porcelain.
Nevertheless, Chanyeol is still alive; Baekhyun can feel it as they lay down together, his warmth makes Baekhyun feel like he’s burning. The box where his name is written is a constant reminder that, even though he can think and feel, he will never be alive as Chanyeol is. He will never be able to speak, neither to answer to Chanyeol’s questions, not even to say to him that yes, I had a great day, how about you? At least he can dream, and in those dreams he always talks to Chanyeol, he always answers to his kisses, feeling the smooth lips against his own as they watch the sunset together.
“Look, baby. That’s Orion, can you see its belt?” Chanyeol mutters as he’s reading a book about astronomy. But this time he isn’t dreaming; he isn’t dreaming even though the following speech is incredibly similar to his dreams. “This is the brightest star… if I could name it, it would be called Baekhyun.”
‘That’s a stupid name’ , Baekhyun wants to say, but all he does is smile, again.