Waking Hyde (wakinghyde) wrote,
Waking Hyde
wakinghyde

Fanfic: Home

Title: Home
Fandom: EXO
Rating: PG-13
Characters/pairings: KrisYeol
Wordcount: 7499

A/N: SO TIRED AND THIS IS INCONSISTENT MAKES NO SENSE.
Dear muse. When giving me inspiration for a drabble, please keep it drabble-length. THANK YOU. Which is also why this is sort on nonsensical; it was supposed to be <1000 words, BUT OKAY. I guess the fandom won't mind more. 8D Although I should be working on my exams. Hallelujah.


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Kris does not remember a thing. Everything is a huge blur to him, and he does not know when it started. He cannot pinpoint where his memories stop and just exceeds into nothingness, but he cannot tell where they start either. He cannot remember anything but the existence he lives now.

There are a couple of things Kris does remember. He remembers his name; Kris. He remembers his favorite color; grey. And he remembers that he once was happy, and then became unhappy. He does not know why, but he feels it might be just as well not to know.

After all, now he is not unhappy. Why would he then want to remember things that made him sad?

Although he is not quite happy at the time, either. Kris is mostly just confused.

He never knew how he lost his memories to begin with, but he does not particularly miss them, if he is to be perfectly honest. He almost wishes he was able to feel that agonizing longing, the burning desire to know, more, more, everything, to return to what he once knew.

But he does not.

Things are perfectly fine for Kris the way they are now.

There is only one thing, though; Kris’s entire existence at the moment surrounds around walking, travelling, coming and leaving, but he misses a goal. Kris does not know where he is going, or when he is coming home.

Mostly because he does not know where home is.

And he wishes he knew where he was going.

Life on the road was tiring, that was true, and he slept wherever he could, warm or not, ate what he found, and it was generally edible, but he never knew where to aim. Kris was still rational and intelligent, and he knew, almost with a dry humor, that the life he led was not generally looked upon as a ‘good life’. He lived as a bum; he had not money, no luggage, no address. No person.

Somehow, that never made him miss what he had before – and he did not long for the kind of life people who passed him by every day had. They, who drove in big, fancy cars and wore the most expensive clothes that looked ugly anyways, and who spent their everyday worrying about how they could make the next any better. It never was.

Kris had pondered what he did before, what kind of person he was, what kind of people he knew. Was he successful? Did he have a lot of friends? He was happy, so why did he become unhappy?

But in the end, he always thinks it is fine like this.

He only misses somewhere to call home.

Not necessarily because he does not like living on the street, on the country, in the woods – wherever he could call a temporary ‘home’. It is not because he wants to settle down either; it is because there is some longing in his chest, a small, dull ache he could have ignored if he chose to. But there are very few things that occupy his existence, so the dull ache is prevalent. 

He still wonders exactly what he is longing for.

So Kris walks. He searches without aim, and although he is not unhappy, he knows there is something more for him out there.

He wants to find it.

His home.

Kris does not remember a thing. He does not remember a thing except for his name, his favorite color, and that he was once happy, and then became unhappy. And he does not know where he is going, or when he is coming home. He does not know where home is.

But all in all, Kris thinks his life is not all that bad, which is maybe a little bit surprising. He is a little skeptic to try and do anything about it, considering he does not want to become unhappy again. Although, he admits to himself, he would have appreciated finding his home.

Then one day, as he takes a minute to rest on a park bench with lazy birds fluttering all about him in search for food, he hears someone approach him. It is fairly obvious, because the pebbles on the path make a lot of noise, and although the steps are not heavy, the person must not be the most gracious walker, or else he (it is definitely not the fine steps of a lady) would have been quieter.

Kris decided to ignore the person for now. Most likely someone who would scoff at the homeless young man using the park as his bedroom.

But then the person does not keep walking past him; instead, he stops, and Kris has heard enough to discern that the man must have stopped right next to him.

Still, he does not make a noise.

Neither does the man.

A few moments pass.

And then the man clears his throat kind of awkwardly, and Kris reluctantly opens his eyes to look up at the man.

… Or rather, the boy. Younger than Kris, and most likely technically old enough to be called a man after all, early twenties, perhaps, but his face resembles that of a baby’s, with glimmering – smiling? – eyes looking down at Kris not with disapproval, but friendliness and curiosity, and he is grinning widely, though Kris cannot say why.

Kris sits up as he wait for the boy – man – to talk, and he notices how he is tall, probably almost as tall as Kris himself.

“Hi,” the boy eventually says, kind of awkwardly, his tone particularly unsuited to the dark voice, and Kris resists the urge to frown.

“Hello,” he says back, kind of emotionless, he hears, and it sort of not surprised. It has been long since he talked to anybody, anyways.

But the boy does not seem output.

“I’ve seen you a couple of times around the city,” he starts, and Kris does frown this time, because he had not been in this city for more than a few days, and he had most certainly never made a number out of himself, but he does not comment and lets the boy proceed. “And you, to be honest, look like you’re sort of bad off.”

It is meant as a question, and Kris understands it, but he does not want to answer to anything that does not have a question mark behind it.

“So…” The boy clearly gets uncomfortable by that particular attitude, and Kris feels sort of bad for it, but cannot bring himself to do anything about it. He is suddenly struck with the epiphany that he liked children before he lost his memories. Strange, he had never really interacted with children before talking to this man.

“I know this is kind of rude and things,” the boy, man, continues, and Kris almost nods in encouragement, but only almost. “But are you by any chance homeless – or, I mean, have a bad home or anything, because you don’t look that bad, I guess I – not, that you look bad at all, but – “

“I have a home,” Kris interrupts him halfway through the rant, even though he finds the sudden nervousness kind of cute, but he misses the little smile that had faded when the boy got afraid. He liked the boy better when he smiled. “I have a home, but I don’t know where it is.”

“Oh…” The boy seems to think about it for a while. “How do you not know where it is?”

“I don’t know,” Kris shrugs, and scoots over on the bench so that the kid can sit down next to him. “I just have this feeling that tells me I have a home.”

“But…” Apparently, the boy has a hard time grasping this concept, and he frowns when he sits down. Kris then thinks that even if his smile faded, the little furrow between his eyebrows are kind of cute as well. “Where did you live before? And why don’t you live there anymore?”

“I don’t know,” Kris repeats again, nonchalantly this time. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t – “ the boy halts in the middle of his own sentence and looks puzzled. “You mean, you have amnesia or something? What happened? And shouldn’t you go to a hospital, or the police, then?”

“I could,” Kris agrees, because really, the thought has struck him. “I don’t know how I lost my memories, and sometimes I wonder, but by the end of the day, I don’t really care. As for the police and hospitals… I guess I could, but I don’t really want to.”

“Why not?” Kris is suddenly amused by the fact that this boy probably had something he should be doing, and instead, he sits here, talking to a homeless person about memories he does not have. Not like Kris minds it, of course; he kind of likes the boy, after all. He feels completely comfortable talking to him, and there is a feeling blooming in his chest that he cannot recall feeling. Ever.

“I know I was unhappy before,” Kris said simply. “And I don’t want to be unhappy again. Because I’m not really unhappy now.”

“You’re not unhappy now?” the boy repeats slowly. “But you’re a homeless person? Isn’t that kind of – “

“I told you, I have a home,” Kris corrects him sternly, and something tingles in his hand when the boy smiles, almost laughs, at his insistence. “I just haven’t found it yet.”

“Right,” the boy nods, and finally, it seems like the two are on the same page.

“I don’t think you would believe me if I just told you,” Kris started again, looking down at the birds shuffling the pebbles. “But it’s not that bad to live on the road. A bit chilly and hungry, and now the winter’s coming… But really, aside from that ugly season, it’s fairly okay.”

The boy grows silent then, and Kris dares to look back at him. He looks thoughtful, and stares at Kris intently, as if judging him. It somehow does not make Kris uncomfortable.

“What’s your name?”

“Chanyeol, Park Chanyeol.”

“Mine is Kris.”

“’Kris’?” Chanyeol echoes, and Chanyeol, Kris tastes the name in his mind, it sounds pretty good. “Only… Krease? Are you a foreigner? I’m sorry, you might not know – “

“It’s alright,” Kris assures him, smiles a little. “I think I’m from Canada, but I don’t know what I’m doing here. I was in China at first, but I passed the border at some point.”

“Without papers?” Chanyeol appears to be either impressed or horrified, and Kris cannot quite seem to pinpoint which. Instead, he nods.

“I slept on a boat, and suddenly, the boat was in Korea. South-Korea? Anyways, I never realized until then that I spoke Korean, so I don’t really know where the hell I come from.” Chanyeol chuckled, and Kris had to admit that yes, his story was kind of weird.

“That sounds interesting, though,” Chanyeol smiles, and moves to bring something out from the bag still strapped over his shoulder. Kris watches as he pulls out a lump of paper, before proudly presenting it to the older. “Here! You can have this, if you’re hungry, right?”

“Chanyeol-sshi, I don’t think – “ Wow, Chanyeol does taste good on his lips.

“It’s fine, I can buy more later,” Chanyeol brushes him off and shoves the little package into Kris’s hands. “I don’t think you have too much money or food to brag about?”

“That’s true,” Kris smiles and peels away some of the paper to reveal a tasty-looking sandwich, and it is not until now he realizes that yes, he is in fact quite hungry. “Thanks a lot, Chanyeol-sshi.”

“You’re welcome,” Chanyeol smiles as Kris takes the first bite, and god, it tastes heavenly, and Kris really did not know how hungry he was. “I guess you really needed it more than me.”

“I guess,” Kris agrees, breaking off a tiny crumble to the poor hungering birds he had grown sympathizing with. “This is very nice of you, Chanyeol-sshi.” Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol. Kris really liked that name. That boy.

“It’s my pleasure,” Chanyeol grins, and Kris gives a little more bread to the birds. “You’re a nice guy, Kris-sshi. It’s too bad you’re ho – haven’t found your home yet. When will you know how to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Kris admits after swallowing his last bite, and he realizes that he has said a lot of ‘I don’t know’s during the conversation. “I guess I’ll just… Know. Don’t have many clues, though.”

“Do you have any?”

“Not really.”

They both laugh at that, and it feels so natural, like they have been friends for a long time, rather than strangers who have only talked for a few minutes. Kris does not know how many friends he had before he lost his memories, but he knows that now, when he has been travelling, he had none. Sure, there were people who were friendly towards him, but he had never felt this immediate connection like with Chanyeol.

He likes Chanyeol.

“Well,” Chanyeol finally says, and if he sounds a little bit sad, it is only Kris’s imagination. “I’ve got to go. I have classes to go to.”

“Really?” Kris questions conversationally, though he realizes their talk is about to end. “University?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol nods eagerly, and fastens his bag across his shoulders as he rises. “But maybe I’ll see you again sometime, eh, Kris-sshi? Will you stay in the city for some time?”

“I think so, yes,” Kris agrees, and he also hopes to see Chanyeol again sometime. “I guess you’ll find me if you try. And thanks again for the meal!”

“My pleasure!” Chanyeol grins as he takes off. “Bye, Kris-sshi!”

“Goodbye, Chanyeol-sshi!” Kris smiles, a bit weakly maybe, but it does not matter, because Chanyeol left and then there is no one to smile for anymore. The birds at his feet quip happily, and Kris decides that they can have a little bit more bread, but the rest, he will savor for himself.

It was a gift from his friend, after all.

Kris does indeed stay in the city for a bit longer, and he searches for his home, though his goal has become a bit fuzzier in his head, and he eventually only recognizes it as ‘home’, instead of a definitive thought. He is puzzled by it at first, and wonders if maybe he should just proceed to the next town, but something keeps him back.

He continues to meet Chanyeol – running into him, or rather, Chanyeol keeps running into him. Maybe it is not coincidental, but they both still act like it.

Chanyeol brings food for Kris, but lately, Kris notices that each time they ‘incidentally’ meet and Chanyeol gives him another wrapped meal, he conveniently has enough for himself as well.

He does not voice that particular observation out loud, nor does he protest to it.

Although Chanyeol learned pretty much everything there was to know about Kris the first time they met – at least as much as Kris knows about himself, anyways – Kris knew nothing of Chanyeol. So he questions the younger about everything.

Where he lives. If he has any siblings. What he does in his spare time. What sort of friends he has.

And Kris learns that Chanyeol is a Physics major who play soccer for his university team, he has one younger brother named Sehun, who still lives with their parents – for Chanyeol lives in an apartment with his friend Baekhyun – and he enjoys listening to music more than anything – Kris had actually noticed that, seeing as Chanyeol always had one earplug in his ears – and that he used to be part of a band back in High School. Now, he does not have the time anymore, not with school and the job at a local bakery Kris never has the chance to visit.

Somehow, none of these discoveries make Kris any more eager to discover his own past.

The only thing they do, is making him more reluctant to leave, even when it becomes obvious that he will not find his home here.

Kris does not want to leave Chanyeol.

And considering how skittish the younger becomes every time the subject is brought up in a conversation, Chanyeol does not want Kris to leave either.

Though, Kris ponders, it is sort of weird. Sure, they have known each other for a few weeks by now, but they are still just a student and the hobo in the park that meet occasionally. Well, more often than occasionally, actually, but he is still convinced that what they have is more special than a few weeks of friendship warrants.

These worries are pushed aside when a new problem arises, though.

The mild autumn is slowly turning into winter, and Kris knows he will not be able to live here in the winter; too cold, and the city is too hostile. Considerably better than the countryside, indeed, but there are many other cities that would be more beneficial for him to live in during the cold season.

He tells Chanyeol as much one day.

“I have to leave,” he says abruptly, cutting off whatever Chanyeol was saying about his cocky friend. “Winter’s coming.”

“Winter always comes after autumn,” Chanyeol half-jokes, and Kris does not want to turn and see that beloved smile fall apart.

“Chanyeol-ah…” Kris starts, but he does not know where to continue, but that is fine, because Chanyeol knows where it ends. 

“I know…” But he does not like it.

“I… I must find my home…” Kris says weakly, because even though that is his cause, he is not sure whether or not that is really the only thing on his mind anymore.

“I know…” Chanyeol says again, there is really nothing more to say.

“But you know that you’re my favorite dongsaeng, right?” Kris tries, and leans over the table – Chanyeol suggested they go to a café today, because the weather is so cold – and ruffles Chanyeol’s already messy hair.

“Your only dongsaeng, hyung,” Chanyeol remarks with a small chuckle, and Kris is a little happier.

“Quality before quantity,” he says fondly, and this time, Chanyeol does not laugh, but he still smiles a little brighter. Then silence falls upon them again, and it is usually comfortable, because they have become so familiar with each other’s presence, it is never a problem anymore, it is never awkward.

This is awkward.

“I don’t want you to leave, hyung,” Chanyeol says after not long, but still too long. It had been painfully obvious, hanging in the air, but there was still something special about voicing it out loud. “I would miss you.”

“I’d miss you too, Chanyeol-ah,” Kris agrees sincerely, and he struggles to figure out what to say, but Chanyeol’s saves him.

“Is there no way for you to stay?” He looks almost defeated, like a lost puppy or bullied child, and Kris thinks it is unfair that a twenty-two year old can look so young and innocent. Mostly because he is unable to resist, though he is not sure why he opposes to begin with.

“I…” He starts uncertainly, and sighs, and then he grabs Chanyeol’s hand, which rests atop of the table. It is cold, but warmer than Kris’s. “No. Even if I can’t find my home here, it’s still the winter… I won’t be able to live through the winter on the streets here, it’s impossible.”

“But…” Chanyeol frowns. “Hyung, come live with me. I mean, at least for the winter when you can’t travel.”

Kris blinks, and he is taken aback for a bit. His mind tells him that no, such a thing is impossible, but everything is impossible now, and Chanyeol sounds so sincere, and Kris wants to say yes…

“No, Chanyeol, I can’t,” he says quietly. “I – “

“Why not?” Chanyeol demands, and Kris notices his voice rising, because clearly Chanyeol is upset. In one way, it touches him that he has such an impact on the younger, but his stomach churns slightly uncomfortably at the implications.

“I – you already treat me to so much food, and I won’t be a bother,” Kris tries to be rational, he really does. “And I live on the street, you’re a good student, it’s inappropriate – “

“Hyung, you’re so poor at excuses,” Chanyeol scoffs and frowns, never a good combination. “I don’t mind – it’s not like I won’t manage the economics, anyways, I doubt you’re high on the expenses. And I don’t give a damn if you’ve lived on the streets; you’re so much better than a lot of people I know, and you’re intelligent, and kind, and funny, you’re my friend –

“Chanyeol-ah…”

“And it’s perfect, because Baekhyun just moved out, and I’m all alone, and…” Chanyeol pauses, and Kris just manages to spot a mischievous glint along with the pleading in Chanyeol’s eyes before he juts out his bottom lip, making it quiver ever so slightly. Kris resists the urge to ram his head into the table. “Please, hyung, I’m so lonely, Chanyeollie is lonely…”

“Stop that, Chanyeol-ah,” Kris scolds, and tries to hold back a smile. He fails. “You should shut up when trying to be cute, seriously.”

“My voice, I know, I know,” Chanyeol grins, and Kris wonders if Chanyeol can ever stay upset more than a few moments. “But seriously, hyung, come on? It won’t inconvenience me in any way, in fact, it’ll be better for me – you know I’m social as anything – “

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

“ – and I really, really don’t want you to leave…” Chanyeol pouts again, but Kris thinks it is unintentional this time, because he has learned that Chanyeol does that, sometimes. “I mean, if you want to, or don’t want to live with me, I won’t stop you, but… If you leave… Ugh, hyung, I think it’s worse if you leave, so can’t you just accept it? Just for the winter, I promise, please?”

Kris has never seen or heard of anyone who begged a street traveler to live with them. Chanyeol is surely a special snowflake…

But, he realizes with a pang, that Chanyeol is his special snowflake. Kris cannot stand the thought of anyone else being more important to Chanyeol, and that must be what finally tips him over. Suddenly, it does not matter that they have only known each other for a few weeks, it does not matter that Kris is an amnesiac, that Chanyeol is spaztic, or that this is entirely weird.

Because it really feels so right.

“Fine,” Kris sighs, and he swears, Chanyeol looks about ready to burst of joy.  Again, this pleases him a little more than it probably should. But Kris does not mind, not at all. “I’ll live with you. This winter, at least.”

“Great!” Chanyeol exclaims, and he might be a little too happy, Kris thinks, but he does not particularly mind and just smiles to the energetic boy, man, as he claps to himself and grins like a madman. “Thank you so much, hyung!”

“I should be the one thanking you, really,” Kris points out, but Chanyeol just waves him off.

“I’m just glad I won’t be lonely anymore,” he says merrily. “Bacon was worried about that, actually, he said he’d call to check on me and stuffs – “

“Well, you can tell Baekhyun,” Kris stresses the fact that he knows whom Chanyeol talks about, even if he uses an awkward old nickname. It is indeed weird how well they know each other by now. “That I’ll look after you like a good hyung.”

“I would tell him that anyways,” Chanyeol shrugs innocently, and Kris does not doubt the claim for a second.

Had their relationship been strained the past few days because of Kris’s impending departure, it was almost too light now.

Kris never realizes what it is about Chanyeol that is so different, but he finds that he does not really mind staying with Chanyeol, at least for a while. The dull ache that reminds him to search for his home has weakened, and maybe it is not all that important anymore, because as Kris reminds himself, it was mainly a goal for his wandering he needed, so maybe it would be okay just like this.

After they (Chanyeol) pay for their meal, Chanyeol eagerly states that they will be going home now, to their apartment, and he says it in such a way, that Kris does not have the heart to correct him.

He has never really been at Chanyeol’s home before, so he is more than a little excited. That, and the fact that he will be living in Chanyeol’s apartment for the next months, which is sort of overwhelming in itself – he will live there much longer than the time he has known Chanyeol by now, and it should scare him, but somehow does not.

Chanyeol is harmless – anything regarding Chanyeol is harmless, so everything should be fine as long as he stays with Chanyeol.

Chanyeol guides him around the city, to areas Kris has visited before, but rarely with Chanyeol, and he wonders whether or not he has passed the apartment sometime without even knowing. Finally, Chanyeol stops, in the middle of a fairly okay neighborhood, in front of a fairly large building, modern in style, but not too exclusive, and Kris figures it must be quite a nice apartment complex, but still simple, if Chanyeol’s student economy can afford it.

He quite likes it.

Chanyeol keeps blabbering about this and that as he unlocks the front gate and holds it open for Kris, who thanks him, and then they proceed into the building. Chanyeol tells him a little about his neighbors when they ascend the stairs, that the woman directly underneath them complains about noise, and that the man next to her again makes too much noise, that the two men across the hall from their apartment are nice, Kris should meet them… And then they are there.

Chanyeol’s – Chanyeol and Kris’s – apartment is on the top floor, third or fourth, Kris found it hard to keep count when Chanyeol talked so much, and there is only the two men across the hall for neighbors. Instead of a third (or fourth) apartment, there is a glass door leading out to a common terrace that looks suspiciously empty, and Chanyeol assures Kris that only the residents of the top floor use it.

Kris only nods with a small smile.

He watches as Chanyeol fishes his keys from his pocket again and unlocks the door, before swinging it open proudly.

“Ta-dah!” He grins, and waves his arms as an inviting gesture. “This is the palace! No really, it’s not much, but it is somewhere to live, and I find it quite nice.”

Kris finds it quite nice as well. Mirroring Chanyeol, he pulls off his shoes near the door, and after an encouraging nod from the younger, he tentatively moves in to explore the apartment.

Like Chanyeol said, it is quite simple; there is a combined hall and living room, with a tiny kitchen area at the back. There are two doors on the left side, one of which is slightly ajar, and Kris sees a messy room with a bed, book shelves and lots of clothes on the floor – no doubt Chanyeol’s bedroom. He guesses the other door must be the other bedroom, then. There is one door at the right side of the room as well, and Kris dares guessing it to be the bathroom.

Otherwise, there is not much to the apartment; a couch with a table housing a couple of dirty dishes, a television, and a discarded laptop on the kitchen counter. But still… Kris finds it perfect, it almost surprises him. But only almost; this is Chanyeol’s home, after all.

“What do you think?” Chanyeol’s nose is suddenly on his shoulder, and Kris turns his head slightly to look down at the younger.

“It’s nice,” he says truthfully, and he can practically feel the grin Chanyeol sports at that moment.

“Good!” He student chirps, and moves past Kris to the door to what Kris presumed to be the bathroom. “I’m guessing you might want to take a shower. I want you to, anyways; you sort of smell weird, sorry hyung.”

Kris only shrugs with as much dignity as you could after being told you stink.

“There are towels under the sink, and I can lend you some clothes for now?” Chanyeol suggests, and Kris thinks it is easier for them both if he agrees, so he nods and watches Chanyeol run to his room and immediately return with a bundle of what he hopes (but after living on the streets, he is not really all that picky) are clean clothes, which he proudly presents to Kris.

“These should fit, we are pretty much the same size,” Chanyeol smiles and Kris accepts the clothes gratefully.

“Thanks,” he mutters as he enters the bathroom, which is small, almost cramped, but he does not mind. Not at all. “It will be nice to take a good shower again.”

Again? When was the last time he took a real, long, warm shower? Of course he does not remember. But Chanyeol need not know as much.

“Don’t worry about the hot water, okay?” Chanyeol says brightly from the door, almost as if reading Kris’s mind. “I only take quick showers, so there’s plenty left! Unless the two across the hall used it, but I’ve told them before… Anyways, good shower, hyung!” Kris almost thinks he can spot a blush creeping across Chanyeol’s cheeks, but the younger turns away too quickly, and in the end, Kris does the same.

He does not think he would admit how nice it is to take off the worn, and embarrassingly dirty clothes, strip naked and step into the shower. He turns on the faucet, and the first sensation is cold, but Kris turns it with practiced ease (when was the last time he showered?) and then, yes, it is warm, warm.

It is an indescribably delightful sensation to Kris, and he does not, not for a split second, regret his decision to move in with Chanyeol.

Chanyeol and hot water? Heaven.

He ponders that thought without any real opinions as he revels in the clean, warm water streaming down his back, starting from his bleached hair (bleached? When was it bleached? It had always been…) and running down the nape of his neck to caress his tired spine and dropping down to the floor, but it does not matter, because a thousand more struggles to replace it.

Maybe Chanyeol is an angel, Kris thinks, and he is not sure why, because he has always been fairly level-headed, and he never really thought his life was bad before.

Maybe it is just Chanyeol who shows him something better, something he did not know existed.

He is not sure how long he just stands there, enjoying the feel of the water, but it must have been a long time, and yet, Chanyeol does not complain. Kris is grateful for that. He has shampoo in his eyes, but no will to wash it away, he feels his skin go wrinkled and he is pretty sure the hot water will be gone soon. He tries to tell himself that since he agreed to live with Chanyeol, warm showers will be a part of his life from now on, and yet, it seems like a drug to him, and he struggles to get away.

But somehow, he does, and he finds himself dry, staring at his clean reflection in the fogged mirror. He quite likes what he sees, and reminds himself to take showers every day. He pulls on the pants Chanyeol laid out for him, a bit narrow on the hips, but more than comfortable enough, and then the simple black t-shirt underneath it.

When he exits the bathroom, he notices two things; firstly, how cold the living room seems compared to the steamy bathroom, and then the delicious smell of something cooking. A quick glance to the right shows Chanyeol’s back to him, and he appears to be cooking something on the stove.

Kris frowns for a second. Did they not just eat, at the café..? Granted, just a muffin, and they had walked home after that… And then Kris had showered…

Maybe he did shower too long.

He regretted nothing, though.

It is at that second Chanyeol decides to turn around and sees him. He smiles broadly, just like Kris is used to, and Kris is sort of disappointed to see that Chanyeol is not wearing a clichéd pink and frilly apron, but a simple black one.

“Nice shower, hyung?” He asks casually, and moves to the couch. Kris notes how the distance is closed on four small steps.

“Very,” he admits, smiling. “Thank you. And thanks for the clothes.”

“It’s nothing,” Chanyeol, once again, brushes him off, and picks up a navy woolen sweater from the couch before giving it to Kris. “Here, put this one on, too. Don’t want you to become sick, your hair’s still wet.”

And Kris accepts it, because he trusts Chanyeol, and yes, like he observed earlier, it was kind of cold. Chanyeol still prances around in nothing but a wife beater, though, but Kris does not feel the need to point it out.

Instead, he focuses on the sweater; it is warm, and soft, and smells of Chanyeol. Kris is fairly certain that he has seen Chanyeol in this particular sweater some time before; it feels good to be wearing it now.

“Why are you cooking, Chanyeol-ah?” He asks when Chanyeol returns to the stove.

“I was hungry,” Chanyeol shrugs, seasoning the contents of the pan with something mysterious, but Kris will not question it. “And besides, it’s pretty much dinner time. Aren’t you hungry, hyung?”

“Well…” Not really. Kris was used to live on little food, but he thinks he can always eat some more. “I guess.”

“It’s really good, I promise you,” Chanyeol says, again with that eagerness and supercute smile. “I used to make it for Bacon and I all the time, because he was hopeless with cooking, and I don’t really mind… Do you cook, hyung?”

A very good question. Kris does not know if he cooks. Nothing pops into his head at the moment, like things usually do when he discovers a skill he never knew – remembered – about.

“I don’t think so,” he admits, but Chanyeol just chuckles.

“Of course you don’t,” he says. “Silly me. I bet you could – or could learn, at least. Hey, we can work on your cooking skills, and then you can make me dinner when I get home from university, like a good little wife!”

It is only a small second, but they both notice the slight pause that follows the statement, and Kris could not really say why, but the comment added something to the atmosphere…

He does not know what.

He decides to ignore it.

“Shouldn’t I get a job, too?” Kris asks instead, thinking back on Chanyeol’s earlier words. “You know, contribute… Do my part.”

“It’s not really an issue, Kris-hyung,” Chanyeol insists, but he would admit that things could run a bit smoother if Kris really got a job and income as well. “I make enough – “

“Enough, but not too much, right?” Kris pushes, because he really wants to help Chanyeol, and there is no reason why he should sit idle all day, after all. “There is nothing wrong with a little luxury.”

“I guess not,” Chanyeol shrugs and removes the pan from the stove. Kris can still not see exactly what it is Chanyeol is making, but he said it is good, and it does smell heavenly, so he patiently waits.

“Do you need any help?” He asks, more out of curtness than anything, because he doubts there really is anything he can do to help Chanyeol, but it still feels right to propose his services.

“Not really,” Chanyeol replies, like predicted. “Even though you technically live here now, let me treat you like a guest, just for tonight, alright?”

Kris wants to object, but he knows how stubborn Chanyeol can be, and suddenly, he has lost all energy to combat whatever stunning arguments and adorable pouts Chanyeol might throw his way.

“Okay,” he agrees simply, and he is tempted to voice out his anticipation for the evening – he does not, mostly because he is so surprised by the feeling himself.

Kris settles for sitting down at the couch, since he fins nowhere else they could potentially eat their food; there is no dining table. He does not have to wait long before Chanyeol stumbles before him, two plates carefully balancing on one arm, and his other hand holds two glasses and some box of seasoning. Kris is about to stand up again to help him, but Chanyeol has everything under control, and Kris is somehow not surprised.

“You could have told me to help with that,” he says anyways, as Chanyeol puts down the plates. “Dangerously close to losing something, there.”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Chanyeol assures him and discards the black apron before settling down. The couch is quite small, and as Chanyeol’s bare, muscled arms brushes against his, Kris realizes that if he had not worn the thick sweater, their naked arms would have been touching. It is an observation he carefully stores at the back of his head.

Instead, he tries to peg his interest to the food; it is pink meat, pork his mind says, neatly grilled (Kris momentarily ponders how one can grill on a stove) with more vegetables than he cares to name, and some sort of paste at the edge of his plate. He has a vague notion of having eaten this before, but nothing concrete comes to memory. A shame.

“What is it?” He asks instead, a bit disappointed in himself for not remembering, though he does not know why, it has never bothered him before.

“Samgyeopsal,” Chanyeol replies immediately. “Grilled pork belly and vegetables. You can dip the meat in that paste, and it’s not seasoned, but the vegetables are. I prefer to add some spice to the pork as well, though, but I know Bacon hates that, so I’ve grown used to cooking it the true way.”

“It’s good,” Kris compliments after trying a bite, and he ignores the fact that he would have said so anyways, because it is really good. He also adores the little proud smile Chanyeol wears for the rest of the meal, especially since he knows that he is the one who put it on the younger’s face.

They finish the rest of the meal with some small talk – Chanyeol’s schedul, where Kris could get a job, which friends Kris should meet and so on – and Chanyeol does allow Kris to help him with the dishes, something Kris quickly learns that the baby-faced young man is not very good at – for some sort of reason.  Things clatter and he is clumsy, all of the earlier grace is lost, but it is fine, because Kris handles everything with a natural elegance. It also goes much quicker than if Chanyeol would have done it alone.

They end up at the couch again, and this time, Chanyeol turns on the television – a modest little thing, but more than enough for Kris. The couch is still kind of small, and their arms still touch – Kris is still wearing the woolen sweater, and Chanyeol is still only wearing his tank. Kris is not sure what they are watching, but from Chanyeol’s never-ending chatting, he learns that it is an old, half-bad movie the brunette has seen four times before.

Still, he does not turn it off.

“Isn’t it weird, though, hyung?” Chanyeol eventually says, turning his head slightly to look at Kris, who sends him a questioning glance.

“What is?”

“Well…” Chanyeol trails off, his eyes wandering aimlessly through the room, it is now dark outside and no one bothered to turn on the lights, so only the television interrupts the darkness that suddenly engulfed them. Kris thinks it is fine this way. “I saw you one day, sleeping on park bench. Now you’re living with me. I don’t know, I guess it’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” Kris shrugs in agreement, and there is friction against Chanyeol’s arm, but Kris does not want to think about that right now. “You’re the weird one for taking me in, though.”

“Hyung,” Chanyeol chuckles, and it is seriously the most beautiful sound Kris has ever heard, even if it is kind of cackling and Chanyeol’s voice does not match his face and he almost gasps when he breaths. “I’ve been called weird before, taking in a homeless isn’t the most unusual thing I’ve done.”

“I somehow don’t doubt it – “ and he does not “ – but Chanyeol-ah, you know what I’m gonna say. I’m not homeless – “

“You’re just searching for your home,” Chanyeol finishes for him, rolling his eyes friendlily as he speaks. “So I heard, at least.”

“It’s true,” Kris defends, crossing his arms stubbornly, and he is not quite sure where this childishness comes from, but it must be Chanyeol’s fault. “I’ll find it someday, though.”

“I’m sure you will, hyung,” Chanyeol agrees, and suddenly, Kris notices a foreign sound in Chanyeol’s voice, an emotion that is not often expressed by the happy virus; Kris thinks Chanyeol sounds kind of longing, almost sad.

He is not sure how it happens, but when Chanyeol sinks deeper into the couch and leans his head on Kris’s shoulder, it seems so right, so appropriate, in fact, to put his arm around his new host’s shoulder, and he allows himself to give a small squeeze, and yes, he agrees, this is right.

But Kris does not like it when Chanyeol sounds sad, because he wants Chanyeol to be a happy happy virus, and Chanyeol should not be unhappy, everything is just wrong.

“I’ll miss you when that time comes, though.”

And Kris’s reply is on the tip of his tongue, it is the simples ‘I’ll miss you too’, but he somehow cannot say it, it just lingers in his mouth and will not escape. He knows it hurts Chanyeol, and Kris never wants to hurt Chanyeol, because the boy has become so precious to him, but something just stops him from saying it, and damn it, he is almost beginning to get frustrated.

Kris knows he should speak back to Chanyeol, but he does not, and he can almost feel Chanyeol’s little pout, the subconscious one that Kris finds the cutest, but this time, he does not like it.

But it is weird; because how can this be, how can they be, when Kris is an amnesiac living on the street and Chanyeol is your average, if only slightly weird, university student, and they both lived their respective lives perfectly comfortably before meeting the other.

Then suddenly, there is something they cannot shake off, and Kris wonders what this is, though deep down, he knows, he is just fearful of admitting it.

Kris could not remember anything. He did not remember his life, only that he had once been happy, and then unhappy. He spent his days wandering, searching for a goal. He did not know where he was going, or when he was coming home; he was only ever searching for a home.

He had agreed to stay with Chanyeol, a nice young man he met on his travels, for a while, until he could continue his search.

But Kris realizes something as his head bends down to meet Chanyeol’s, his worn, chapped lips connecting to soft baby-lips that tastes so sweet, despite their dinner, and Chanyeol’s breath is warm, but comfortable, and Kris can feel his smile through the soft kiss. It is surely the first of many, he can tell, but he finds himself enjoying Chanyeol too much, and as they part slightly, perfectly round eyes are staring back at him, they are sparkling and smiling, and Kris brings a hand up to caress Chanyeol’s cheek. It does feel right, he thinks, and engulfs his precious dongsaeng’s mouth one more time, and this time, Chanyeol responds more aggressively.

There are soft touches, teeth, and eventually Kris finds his way to part Chanyeol’s mouth to let their tongues play. Kris does not have any recollections of ever being intimate with another human being, but this comes so perfectly natural to him, it is almost freaky. Fingers brush and noses rub, and Kris finds himself so happy, Kris can only actually comprehend Chanyeol –

He realizes it then.

He spent his time searching for his goal, his home; but it was never a definite place.

It was with Chanyeol.

It was here – now.

Kris is home.

-----------------------------------

So fluffy, I think I need to cry
On a side note though, god, I would've been so pissed if I ever read anything with my writing style, it's so annoying and incosistent. And why the hell did I make this present tense? Damn, this is annoying. 

Please ignore inconsistencies regarding Kris's hair, seasons, furniture (I actually had an extra scene with the couch that I cut, lolwut) and things like that. I'm great at not making sense.

Also, considered making a sort of sequel/spin-off to this thing, regarding Kris and Chanyeol's lives after they moved in together? Interests anyone?

Please let me know what you think! :)

Tags: exo, fanfiction, kpop, pairing: krisyeol
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