𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟑 | baekhyun

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Baekhyun flipped the pancake with soft movements, scared of ruining it. "I. . .I like it here. It's beautiful."

"What?" Sihyeon asked curiously and smiled a cheeky smile. "The house? Or the view? Or what? I myself absolutely love the view, the landscape, the sundown and— But I guess I haven't been able to witness any of it lately."

Baekhyun carefully glanced at her, observing the way her smile was not as lively and sparkling anymore. Rather dejected. He did not like it at all, somehow making his heart feel as if it was squeezed in a tight fist. He exhaled through his nose and said: "Well. . .I like the view, the most." Sihyeon couldn't help but feel her cheeks heat up as she met his intense, warming gaze.

Baekhyun had always thought Sihyeon was beautiful, ever since he laid his eyes on her for the very first delicate time. And this was not a secret. She was elegant, calm, dreamy, and angelic. He did not believe anything could change the image he had of the woman with summer dresses in infinite numbers, she was something out of the ordinary, something magnificent. There was no chance that he would look at her differently, nothing could change the dreams he had about her.

Although it may have annoyed him to death that Sihyeon not only gave her precious attention to him but also the devil in disguise: the evil teenager who still complained that he did not like his new hair color, he tried to hold himself together. Choi Yeonjun had become an unexpected threat to Byun Baekhyun who saw himself as the obvious winner. Sometimes he felt the urge to push the younger ones of the cliff, especially at times when he openly flirted with Sihyeon in front of him. But the fear for Mr. Choi was too big for that scenario to become a possibility.

But it was no wonder that a smile automatically spread over his plump lips as he opened his eyes a couple of nights later and left the deep sleep, to be met by Sihyeon's heartwarming gaze. She stood leaning above him with one knee propped on the bed next to his body and her hair falling down around his face like a silk curtain. At first, he was convinced he was still floating around in one of his many imaginary dreams: flowers in all delicate colors would soon appear behind her and she would slowly but determinedly lean down to connect their sweet lips.

Now that she was suddenly so close, he could outshape a series of almost invisible freckles adorning her flawless, porslinskin. He wanted nothing else but to take her cheek in his hand, to feel her warm skin, and to swipe his thumb over the beautiful pattern. But as the yearning thought caused his heart to start beating harder, he was suddenly attacked by the cold outside of his rose-scented blanket and immediately crawled into a ball to hide his half-naked body. Sihyeon had without regret and thought pulled the blanket off him and thrown it to the other side of the room. He found himself terrified by the sudden outburst.

"Do you hear me?"

He looked at her in confusion. "What? W-What are you doing? Why are you in my room? Not that I want you to go, but—"

"You have to pack your things, now!"

Baekyun literally flew up from the narrow bed when Sihyeon suddenly opened the drawer and began tearing out his clothes. He turned into a nervous, flustered schoolboy at the sight of his underwear in her hands. But to his relief — and to his disappointment — she didn't seem the slightest affected by it.

He swallowed the nervous lump lodged in his throat before asking: "What's going on?"

Sihyeon didn't answer him at first, only proceeded to look for his suitcase with her bare back turned to him. The baby blue floral dress, draped over her shoulder and reaching her knees almost distracted him to the extent, capturing him in a loving trans. He was convinced that she hadn't heard him and opened his mouth to repeat himself, when she suddenly turned around, their noses touching and turning his cheeks crimson red. Yet again a lump began to form in Baekhyuns throat. She was so close that he could smell her perfume: roses and linden.