#this is based on the same feels for the lengthy pcy soulmates au i've been writing aimlessly so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saebyeog-i · 4 years

Text

what it feels like | pcy

“If this was a brave new world you’d entered with that thinly veiled declaration of love, you wanted no part of it.”

genre | you can send me your dental bill for this tooth rotting mushy fluff / internalized angst if you squint / this might be soft enough to not be considered solid matter / this sat on a shelf next to a soulmates au for five minutes

word count | ~1.8k (this! was! supposed! to! be! a! drabble!)

pairing | PCY x reader (this is actually relatively gender neutral without meaning to be?)

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Someone once told you there were many different kinds of love, and many different important firsts beyond just a kiss or a date or sex. You’d kissed and fucked and wined and dined others in the past for plenty of different reasons that didn’t really matter, despite the notion that experiencing any of those firsts with someone who was not your one-and-only was often taboo in your world. Yet, you believed the words you’d once been told by a stranger you no longer remembered, and you held strongly to those ideals, because they grounded you— you found comfort in them, and they acted as a guiding light when you were otherwise wandering lost in the clouded haze of your own life.

The first time you realized that Park Chanyeol was the love of your life felt like a scene from a coming-of-age rom com more than it did a moment in your own life. It came after all those other firsts in your life had been experienced with different people over the last ten years, and it came on one of the otherwise most unimportant nights of your life.

In the months since you’d known him, you’d come to appreciate the different looks you’d witness in Chanyeol’s eyes. When he was deep in thought, focused on something, making a new piece of music or writing a new lyric or verse. When he was bursting with excitement, an extrovert on main, relishing the spotlight and attention from those he surrounded himself with. When he was quiet and calm, his eyes not giving away the thoughts firing through his mind (though those moments were fewer and further between than others— he’s a busy man, you know). He had what you’d come to call ‘galaxy eyes’— you could see the whole universe wherever he looked.

What had compelled you to stay with him well past a reasonable hour, into the middle of the night? To accept the invitation to close the ride share app you’d opened to take you home and instead settle into one of the stools lined up along the bar he’d built in the studio? To willingly take the glass of overpriced special edition Macallan scotch (a bottle you’d only ever seen in person before when locked in a glass case behind an unachievable monetary value for a single bottle of liquor) that he slid across the bar top towards you with a smile plastered on his face? To lift that glass up with a delicate grasp, knocking your knuckles against his and murmuring a ‘cheers’ as you both drank to everything at once and nothing at all?

What had compelled you to snort with laughter with him and exchange humorous stories of your awkward teenage years, to talk about your first crushes and the embarrassing things you’d done in your youth that you could both cringe and laugh at now that years had passed? To follow him when, at the end of the bottle, he’d said he had something important to show you? To wait patiently as he fumbled with the ring of keys to the building he spent most of his free time in— admittedly he spent more time here than in his own home— as he unlocked the door that lead up beyond the top floor? To take his hand as his long legs raced up the stairs to bring you somewhere he insisted he’d never shared with anyone other than Baekhyun or Sehun or MQ? To look out over the safety rails in wonder at the Seoul city skyline at well after three in the morning?

If you had to really narrow it down, it was the comfort he provided.

It was an accident, all of it, really— an accident that you even met, an accident that he broke your expensive prescription glasses and spilled your morning coffee, and an accident that he felt embarrassed and asked for a method to contact you so he could replace them. It was an accident that you even stayed in contact beyond the day you’d gone to his studio building to pick up the replacement pair he’d ordered, so that he could apologize again, profusely, in person.

You’d come to Seoul to get away. To run far away, to start over, to reset, because anything and everything you’d been looking for before was no where to be found in where you were.

And now you were here. And ‘here’ felt more like home than anywhere else in the years of your adult life so far.

It’d been six months since you met, and he’d slowly let you into more and more of his life as that time had passed. There was hesitation on both sides at first— he was still an idol, someone living a very public life, despite having been more senior in his career. You were still decidedly not famous, and had a constant nagging feeling about what was worth giving up of your own privacy in order to cultivate the new found friendship. Ultimately, the same reason you accepted each and every proposition he offered up that night was the same reason you’d stuck around this long: the comfort.

“You’re not cold, are you? If you’re cold, I’ll get you a coat—” He’d asked suddenly, after a prolonged silence shared between you on the rooftop. You shook your head softly, closing your eyes gently for a moment as the heat rushed to your cheeks. Was it from the cold, the alcohol you’d been consuming, or a response to his considerate question that got you? You weren’t really sure that it mattered. Maybe it was none of them, maybe it was all.

“How often do you come here?” You asked, diverting the subject.

He hummed thoughtfully, non-verbally agreeing to give you a pass on his first question despite the shiver he swore he saw run down your spine just now. His eyes never stayed on one point in the skyline for long. Like he was restless, impatient, searching for something. “Whenever I need to remember that I can still be small. Even after all these years, with all the people that know who I am… I can come up here and still feel small.”

His honesty spread a smile across your face, and you couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from deep within you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He pestered.

After the small eternity in relative stillness and silence you’d shared since ascending to the rooftop, you turned your head and looked straight into his galaxy eyes to respond. “Park Chanyeol, you’re might just be the biggest, grandest presence of a person I’ve ever had the fortune of meeting and knowing. But you’re also the softest and most sincere. If you want to be small, I promise I’ll forever see you as how you want to be seen. I promise to do my very best to see you as that and only that.”

Where did the proclamation even come from? Deep within your heart and psyche, that’s for sure, unearthed by the liquor and again the comfort, that pesky comfort you felt when you were with him; and you knew without the liquor and the comfort that proclamation would have otherwise remained buried. As you processed what you’d just said to him, your heart thrummed in your chest, and an awareness settled over you.

‘Oh,’ you thought, ‘This must be what that feels like. What it feels like.’

You knew you’d said the wrong thing as the moments between your words and his lack of a response ticked by, as the silence between you grew from a pause to a hesitation to a complete and utter blank stare looking back at you. Those galaxy eyes, the ones you’d grown to treasure, rendered completely unreadable by something you’d said. If this was a brave new world you’d entered with that thinly veiled declaration of love, you wanted no part of it.

You had to back pedal, to rewind the last two minutes and take it back, you couldn’t have him catch on—

“Shit,” he muttered out finally, running his hand through his slightly grown-out bleached hair.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You feel it too?” His words cut you off, and it took a moment to register what he’d just implied.

What was that feeling? ‘That’ ‘it’ you were just so sure you’d felt? Surely it wasn’t the foundation of everything you thought you knew shifting, of your heart gravitating towards that of another, of a sudden realization that the center of your world wasn’t the sun or a star or a physical place, but the space between you and another person?

“What… what do you feel? When you’re with me?” You asked softly, unable to look away from him despite the furious flush you wished you could hide.

And there it was again, erasing any fear or previous hesitation, reinforcing everything you’d felt that you’d been so sure you’d fabricated in your mind. That kilowatt smile, the sparkle in his eyes, looking like he held the whole world in his gaze when his eyes were on no one else but you. “I feel like I see my whole future by my side, and that I want nothing more than for them to feel the same.”

Would it be so bad? To take his hand?

“I—” you breathed out, words caught in your throat before they could even make their way to your tongue.

“You keep your promises, no? Didn’t you just promise me to see me how I want to be seen?”

He had a point. If you’d taught him anything about yourself these past few months, it’d be that you kept your word when you gave it. You sucked a breath in and bit down on the flesh of your mouth, chewing at the inside of your lip for a moment. How could you weigh every pro and con of allowing yourself to love the man beside you with your whole heart? How could you make such a choice in so brief a passage of time, to give in to everything your psyche had been all but screaming at you for at least the last month, if you really thought about it?

Anxiety made your heart race faster and faster as he waited for your response. Your eyes flicked down to see his hands gripping the guardrail in front of him, knuckles turning white as he steadied himself. And in that moment, you came to realize a different truth of not just the love of your life, but humanity in general: celebrity status aside, everyone deserved to love and be loved in return. You could only wish that everyone important to you could feel the way you felt when you looked in Chanyeol’s eyes.

Really, would it be that bad?

‘No,’ you finally thought, unable to stop the smile from spreading as you rose on the tips of your toes to meet your lips with those of the man who wanted to be reminded that even with the life he’d led so far and the path he’d chosen that he could still be small, ‘It wouldn’t be bad at all.’

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author’s note | stream 1 Billion Views, steam Yours, be emo about them both because I sure as hell was while writing this.

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