RUSH <PART TWO> {EXO MAFIA-AU}

Beyond Coincidence.

It was like the warehouse had separated into three. Suho, Xiumin and Lay had managed to convince Kyungsoo to stay for the time being, even though they knew that there were little chance of him keeping quiet.
"For now," Suho said, "you can't go back to where you were previously staying, so stay here where we know you're safe."
He had agreed out of pity, knowing that there was no point trying to leave as Suho knew where to find him.
Sehun was moping around aimlessly, often crawling onto his mattress to lay his head in Chen's lap, allowing him to stroke his hair or pinch at his ears. He didn't stop moving, no matter how much Chen would complain about it.
"Just stay still." He would whine when Sehun left his comfort to walk around once again.
"I can't stay still. No one is trying to help Kai." Sehun replied, pouting like a child who wouldn't get his way.
"We will discuss Kai in the morning, sleep now." Chen instructed, Sehun slowly worming his way back into Chen's embrace. Their legs were tangled, Sehun's body lying on top of Chen even though his legs were closer to the end of the bed than his. He felt his heavy eyes begin to close, imagining it was Jongin's arms he was falling asleep in and not Chen's.
Chanyeol and Baekhyun were sat the opposite end of the warehouse to the other boys, having moved their mattress to inside the kitchen so they were as far away from Kyungsoo as possible all while being in the same building. Chanyeol was sat leaning against a kitchen counter with his shirt removed, presenting the illustrations D.O had added to his body less than fifteen minutes ago, with Baekhyun washing his stomach with a cold towel. He hadn't stopped attempting to clean Chanyeol up to be as-good-as-new since he saw him lying on the floor, Chanyeol suspecting that he wouldn't stop until there was no sign of damage done to his body at all. He reached out for Baekhyun's chin, tilting up his face with the tips of his fingers to make him look at him.
"I'm okay." He whispered quietly, seeing that just washing him was discomforting Baekhyun. His eyes were pudgy and purple, feeling guilty that Baekhyun had to look at a man that didn't resemble someone he loved but a nightmarish version of a monster with the same voice. His lips were burst; dry and bloody, looking crystalized from the strange light setup the warehouse inhabited. Areas of his face seemed unharmed thanks to the blood-removal session Baekhyun was in the middle of, but he still had patches of burgundy skin and slices of scab where that skin had given up on holding any longer; ripping in surrender of Kyungsoo's punches.
"You're not though, are you? Just as your shoulder was beginning to get better, he does this to you." Baekhyun had shuffled round to lean against Chanyeol's collar, the side that had no damage to it, and was being comforted by him. It felt wrong: for him to be loved by him, reassured that things would get better, when Chanyeol was the one in pain. Yet he sat there laying against him, with Chanyeol's arm wrapped around his body like he was keeping him away from the same danger he was just in himself, it felt like the storm itself was protecting the sun.
"I'll get better," Chanyeol murmured, as if he didn't believe the words that were coming from his mouth, "I promise."
He was speaking like he had done this to himself, like he had gone outside and punched, kicked, scraped at his own body like he hated it and wanted to escape. Step out of his corpse and live the rest of his life simply as a wandering soul. Only observing, not living, watching and not giving.
"Maybe," Baekhyun began slowly, "maybe we should leave?" He was speaking in a low whisper so, even if the others were interested in what the two of them were saying, they couldn't hear a word.
Chanyeol made a small noise in the back of his throat, like a hum of disbelief. "Really?"
"Well, the only reason you were staying was for Kyungsoo, and now I presume that has changed?" A strand of Baekhyun's hair fell from the top of his head to hang in front of his eye, the off-purple, brown mix loosely swaying like it was sleeping. Chanyeol reached his hand, taking the hair in-between his fingers and smoothing it behind Baekhyun's pale ear. He left his hand there for a while, unsure whether it was appropriate to bring his face closer to share a kiss when the other boys were a few metres away. He settled with himself and brought his hand away, letting it drift back to his side where he knew it would be out of danger. He felt a strange pang in his chest.
"We'd be no better than him if we left." Chanyeol murmured a reply, shuffling himself to lay on his side, his arms still wrapped around Baekhyun, bringing him down with him. He felt close enough to him that he would almost enter Baekhyun's body and live in it as his own. Maybe that was the confusing part to their relationship, not that they were scared, not that they were pressured, but that Chanyeol couldn't quite decide if he wanted to be with Baekhyun or just be him.
"But then he'd know how you felt. Don't you want him to feel the pain you did?" Baekhyun stated, though his eyes were half shut, and his body was half awake, he still spoke as clear as the morning sky on an early Sunday.
Chanyeol didn't answer, he just submerged his face into the back of Baekhyun's neck like he was trying to drown himself in his scent, in his body, in his skin. Like he wanted to be so close to him that they were connected, inseparable, one. He could feel the end of his hairline tickle at his forehead, feel his back breathe into his stomach, press and push at him like a slap in the face so that it might be instantly followed with the most luxurious caress. Feel his fingers vine around his wrists, warm. Heavenly. Feel his small breathing on his arm, gentle. Holy. Chanyeol wanted to take this moment and capture it in a photograph, yet not to replay it visually but to awaken his senses to experience this instant again and again and again. Allow him to feel every part, smell every scent, hear every breath, taste every thought. Soak himself in this moment so it would lay on him like a second skin, take him away, throw him back. Cover his bruises with a moment like this, hide his scars and wipe his tears. He wouldn't be vulnerable, he wouldn't be weak, he'd be safe. In between life and death where there's a moment of peace before the last breath. The last satisfactory inhale. The final relief of exhalation. Then nothing but a drift.