up all night.

send a symbol, get a headcanon.     —— ( ☂ for a weather headcanon )

he is raised to be conscientious of practically everything, but unfortunately this is one of the many lessons not drilled into his brain. which is why chanyeol literally never does smart things most people should such as checking the weather before leaving the house, so that he knows when to wear winter clothing because it’ll be cold or when he should forgo flip-flops because of the massive puddles that will swallow and ruin his questionable choice in footwear.

baekhyun ges particularly inconvenienced by his negligence.

“are you kidding me,” he hisses when they’re out and it begins to rain. “hey, did you remember to bring an umbrella? i can’t get these jeans wet.”

at which chanyeol chuckles nervously. “uh, no. no, i didn’t.”

”fu—”

yeah. so. baekhyun gets particularly inconvenienced at his negligence because baekhyun, too, never checks the weather before leaving the house.

somehow, the aforementioned misfortune happens to them often, especially when they aren’t with sora and joy, who aren’t negligent and are smart. (one could argue their better halfs, in all sense of the term.)

and thus their night out typically ends with them trying to shield their heads as they run for shelter at breakneck speed, muttering profanities under their breaths and more or less placing the blame on each other. which isn’t anything new, really. but it does get tiring after a while.

chanyeol’s brilliant plan? to go out, buy an umbrella since he does not in fact have one, and take it along wherever he goes come rain or shine. he makes sure to take it every time him and baekhyun make plans.

but then there are more complications.

"goddamnit, it’s raining. the sun was literally out two seconds ago.” a pause. “…hey, did you—”

"got it." he holds the umbrella up as if it’s the holy grail, epic background music or no, and baekhyun snatches it from his hand lightning-fast. "hey!"

"you’re too slow," is baekhyun’s explanation as he opens the umbrella with a fwoosh. “now get under here and let’s get to my place already. i’m tired. we wouldn’t be stuck in this situation in the first place if you didn’t insist on getting another two plates of food.”

"i was hungry. it’s been a long day,” chanyeol defends himself as he crouches down to join baekhyun under the umbrella, and then they’re off, bantering and bickering as usual.

except.

"uh. baek."

"yeah?"

"i think you’re… uh… the umbrella…"

"what about it?"

"well, it’s kind of hard to be under it when you’re holding it so low." it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that chanyeol means to say you’re shorter than me so i’m getting a face full of umbrella.

baekhyun elbows him, naturally. “stop complaining. i won’t magically become taller because you pointed it out.”

chanyeol can’t resist. “…bet you wish that could happen, though.” the elbow he gets to the gut is so worth it. if only sora and joy were there to hear his brilliance. at least that way someone would be laughing with him, instead of inflicting bodily harm.

he can tell, though, that baekhyun raises his arm higher, in the hopes of making it less uncomfortable for the giant. it’s better, but when a few more minutes pass like this, with chanyeol buckling his knees and walking as if he just shit his pants, he can’t take it anymore. he swipes the umbrella out of baekhyun’s hand, making the other turn to him, confused.

"i could tell your arm was getting tired," he settles on (which is the partial truth), and baekhyun squints at him before turning away, smiling.

chanyeol’s sure he knows the true reason, but it’s probably best if he keep his mouth shut, so he does. somehow this translates into him always getting the umbrella-holding duty, which sucks for his arm but is ultimately good for his back.

(the next time the four friends hang out, sora tosses chanyeol a look. “why do you have an umbrella with you? the forecast clearly said it wasn’t going to rain today.”

send a symbol, get a headcanon.     —— ( ღ for a crush my muse has had )

her name is sandara, and he’s convinced it’s love because of the way her fingers cradle a cigarette; the way she laughs whenever he tells a joke, no matter how stupid it is; the way her eyes shine under the streetlamps, bright like the sun even in darkness.

she’s older by three years, but somehow that makes her otherworldly, like she knows secrets that he will never be privy to until he’s crossed from adolescent to adult. maybe that’s the allure, the reason he becomes so smitten. or maybe just that she’s the one who he befriended first, when chanyeol finally gathered the courage to climb the fence in his backyard—the gateway from his world to the greater world beyond.

"he’s pretty cool," sandara tells her friends, who are older and taller and kind of scary. they’re wearing clothing his parents would forbid him from even touching, and while some are sporting a tattoo here or a piercing there, they’re not like what he imagined, not entirely.

they scrutinize him for a second more before shrugging and going back to what they had been discussing before sandara had arrived with chanyeol lagging behind her like some sort of stray, and this soon becomes a regular occurrence.

eventually he grows closer to the rest of the group, but he does not leave sandara’s side, not when he can help it. it’s obvious to everyone that he likes her, that he in a way looks up to her even. his crush (love, he thinks at the time, so sure of it, like he has never been of anything else) is the butt of their jokes, but chanyeol learns to brush it off, to laugh with them. from the corner of his eye, sandara laughs too, and his heart speeds faster at the thought of her knowing. all that’s left is for her to give him an answer.

when he thinks back to the moments in time when they had been inseparable—or, more like it had been impossible to extricate chanyeol from sandara’s side—there is one memory always on the forefront of his mind.

sandara had texted him on the new phone his parents had given him for his birthday, asking if he was free. chanyeol awoke to the chime and eagerly sent back a text, sleepy-eyed and still unsure if he’s dreaming or awake, heart thundering like it always does around her all the same. they meet up at the other side of the fence, and she walks him to a nearby pub, telling him how it recently opened and how amazing it is and how he will love it. except it’s closed earlier than usual, much to sandara’s frustration.

they end up sitting on the curb, passing a cigarette, even though chanyeol’s eyes tear up and his lungs fill up with so much smoke he has to cough it all out. it makes a small smile tug at sandara’s lips, even as she stubbornly tries to keep it at bay, still upset about not being able to show him the pub he woke up so late at night to come to.

"i’ll just open up my own pub," she tells him firmly, crossing her arms, flicking the ashes off the cigarette angrily—a way only she can. "it’ll be open 24/7 and you’ll have to just live there forever or something. but it’ll have awesome staff and great beer and kickass decor and even a dance floor." (sandara is big on dancing, so it makes sense that she incorporates a dance floor into her plan somehow.)

"i wouldn’t mind living there forever," chanyeol says, trying for casualness as he crosses his legs at the ankles, and sandara laughs, eyes turning into crescents prettier than the one hanging in the sky above their heads.

she bumps her shoulder against his. “you’ll probably be my only customer,” she jokes, “but you’ll still be my favourite.”

he ducks his head, unable to hide his elated grin, and wishes the night would never end. except like all good things, it does, and much too soon. it’s a nanny who phones him, having checked up on him and noticed his absence. sandara waves him off, even when he insists on staying for a little longer, and chanyeol finds himself thinking years later that he should have anyway.

because soon standing beside sandara is a man two years older than her, lacking the acne and lanky arms and clumsiness that chanyeol possesses, and soon it’s impossible to be the stray who is constantly in sandara’s shadow anymore. the end of an era, some would call it.

eventually they drift apart, as most childhood friends do, even though they try so hard to keep in touch. chanyeol still has her number, adds it to whichever new phone he gets--out of nostalgia he supposes. in fantasia he opens up a pub that may not be 24/7, but he does live there forever, so at least that’s an unspoken promise kept.

(the kickass decor, however, needs a lot of work, because chanyeol is no interior decorator nor does he claim to be.

send a symbol, get a headcanon.     —— ( ϡ for a sleep headcanon )     —— ( ✿ for a happy memory )

it’s been two days since the night sora introduced chanyeol to byun baekhyun and park sooyoung, and things are still kind of sort of awkward. of course, he remembers baekhyun when he had ordered a banana milk of all things at his pub (“what am i supposed to tell him?” the bartender, recently hired, asked, panicked. “that we don’t have it? that we’ll find one? he’s glaring at me, i swear to god.” [said bartender quit two days later]), but that doesn’t make conversations any easier. then there’s sooyoung—joy—who he met on the road what feels like eons ago, but she’s changed so much it’s like she’s not even the same person (which is of course a good thing. but. still).

they’re over at the barley mow, now closed, and knocking back drinks like no tomorrow. chanyeol mixes drinks, sneaking in sips of tequila now and then whenever possible, and it’s going well. he thinks. baekhyun is talking non-stop, not even noticing that no one is listening to him; joy is leaning heavily against sora’s side, staring at the green tips of her hair and laughing; sora is slowly getting there, hand movements getting slower, eyelids drooping more and more.

he decides it’s time to get some sleep when most of the alcohol he’s trying to put in a shot glass ends up outside it instead. there’s a moment where baekhyun takes out his phone, where joy looks around for her purse, and chanyeol rolls his eyes, sighing. sora, meanwhile, just leans back in her seat. they’ve done this many times before, after all.

"you can just sleep over, you guys," he informs the two.

baekhyun blinks. “huh. what. no, man, it’s okay—i can just call…the…uh…”

"taxi," sora supplies.

"taxi! yeah! that guy. how do you know him, sora? well, whatever. anyway, he’s super reliable." he squints down at his phone. "as soon as these numbers stop moving, honestly.”

joy says something too, but she’s so quiet and slurring there’s no way of deciphering her. chanyeol decides not to try and just tells them, “no, it’s cool. you can stay over. it’ll be too much work anyway, and sora’s staying over. the more, the merrier.”

"merrier’s good," joy comments, smiling up at chanyeol. "i like that, actually. merrier. that would make a great name for my gardenias. or maybe i should name them chanyeol. or sora. or baekhyun. or, like, a combination of all four!”

"but where would we sleep? i’m not sleeping on the floor.” baekhyun casts a disgusted look at the shoe marks and liquor and other gunk that the floor is covered in. chanyeol makes a mental note to hire someone to do the cleaning, except he’ll probably forget by morning time.

"shut it, byun. chanyeol’s talking about his place upstairs," sora says, or means to, but it comes out as more of a shout. joy slaps her hands over her ears, the closest to her, and leans away, whining. "oh, sorry, joy! unnie loves you!" and then she falling onto her, arms winding around joy like a vine. chanyeol pities her, but does not move to help her. he doesn’t want to get caught up in that, not again.

baekhyun doesn’t even notice them, eyes wide. “there’s an upstairs?” he sounds as awed as if he had just learned the secret to life.

"yeah, and it has a bed and a couch. you guys can crash there," chanyeol tries to tidy up, but only ends up sloshing alcohol everywhere and nearly shattering a shot glass. best leave it for tomorrow. "just…follow me."

joy takes him too seriously, following him so closely he can feel her nose digging into his back, meanwhile baekhyun is walking into tables, sora leaning so much weight on him the poor guy is nearly bent double. chanyeol resolves to informing her how much she had clung onto baekhyun in the morning, just to see her horrified expression (if he even remembers).

somehow they make it upstairs in one piece, even though chanyeol trips and hits his forehead against one of stairs, which caused the line behind him to burst into uncontrollable laughter that lasted a whopping two minutes.

baekhyun insists on getting the bed to himself, while sora suggests all four of them dog piling on it, and joy tries to come up with more plant names. chanyeol has to break them up, as they’re really just talking over one another. in the end sora and joy get the bed, and baekhyun drags himself to the couch, muttering about unfairness and how he deserves the bed because he’s a king.

fighting the haze of sleep, chanyeol procures a pillow and blanket for baekhyun to use before checking up on sora and joy, who are all cuddled together, blankets forgotten at the foot of the bed. he tucks them in, wondering just what weird turns he took in his life to end up here, before closing the bedroom door behind himself.

the morning opens on “oh my god, you are so heavy, get the hell up,” and chanyeol realizes he’s somehow managed to climb atop of baekhyun and wind his arms and legs around his blanketed form. not how he remembers falling asleep, but then again there are many holes in his memory.

somehow, this predicament marks the beginning of the easy banter and conversations between the four friends, and though a lot of what happened that night is a mystery, there is one detail that does not escape any of them.

(“tell me, chanyeol, did it hurt when you fell from heaven? or, you know, the stairs.” baekhyun will inquire, strangely whenever the pub owner begins to believe that the others have finally forgotten. sora and joy will laugh, turning many heads their way, but that’s not exactly a new development.

send a symbol, get a headcanon.      —— ( ✿ for a happy memory )

kyungmi is eight when mother introduces her to makeup. it’ll be bad if you put it on at such a young age, dear, she tells her, so for now why don’t you practice on your dolls? mother buys her lipsticks and lip glosses and eyeshadows and eyeliners and pencils and a bunch of other stuff chanyeol can’t remember the name of, much less what it’s supposed to be used for.

she uses the makeup eagerly on all of her dolls, until they all are sporting red blush and various colours of eyeshadow. kyungmi’s upset that there aren’t more dolls to give makeovers, and though mother promises to get one of the servants to go out and buy her more the next day, she approaches chanyeol with a wobbling bottom lip.

because he can’t resist her, can’t even imagine doing so, he asks, “what’s wrong, mimi? do you want to tell oppa?”

kyungmi sniffles. “i want to use the makeup umma got me, but all my dollies…” tears begin to gather along her eyelashes, and chanyeol caves. (he always does.)

she has him sit down on one of the plastic chairs, the one she wrote yeol oppa on in bright pink sharpie so he always knows where to sit for their tea parties. kyungmi scolds him often on his erratic twitching, but he can’t really help it considering how long she instructs him to sit completely still for. in the end it takes twice the time for the makeup to be applied just how she wants it to, and she beams at him, compact mirror clutched in one tiny fist.

"look, look! what do you think?" she asks with enthusiasm, because the dolls could never answer, and so she’d ask their nannies for their opinions ("it’s not the same thing as the dollies telling me, oppa," he fondly remembers her saying).

the green eyeshadow and red lipstick are a terrible combination, and she’s used too much blush, making it look like he’s either very sick or dying of embarrassment. they forwent the eyeliner because chanyeol couldn’t sit still, not to mention he was afraid of getting an eye poked out.

still, he’s kyungmi’s masterpiece, and she looks pleased, so he hugs her close and says, “oppa loves it, mimi. thank you very much.”

of course, his sentiments aren’t exactly the same when she insists on parading him around the house, makeup intact, and shows him off to the servants currently on duty. the servants all hide genuine smiles behind their hands and nod in agreement with kyungmi’s exclamations of how beautiful her oppa looks, and chanyeol is pretty sure the blush is smeared on so thick that it’s impossible to tell that he is in fact actually blushing.

still, it’s worth it in the end. even when the next week, mother introduces kyungmi to nail polish.

(later—much, much later—behind the scenes at yet another photoshoot, chanyeol will tell sora, “the makeup artists put too much eyeshadow on you. and looks like they ran out of the shade of blue they used on your right eyelid so they went with a different shade for your left one.”

get a text from chanyeol.    —— ( ☯ for an adoring text )

[ sᴍs → ʙʏᴜɴ ʙᴀᴇᴋ ] ngl he does look cute when he’s sleeping[ sᴍs → ʙʏᴜɴ ʙᴀᴇᴋ ] just don’t ever tell baek or sora i agreed with u ok joy[ sᴍs → ʙʏᴜɴ ʙᴀᴇᴋ ] oppa’s trusting u with this secret[ sᴍs → ʙʏᴜɴ ʙᴀᴇᴋ ] waIT FUCK

   —— ( ✂ for a catty text )

get a text from chanyeol.    —— ( ⊙ for a reaction to your muse’s nudes text )

get a text from chanyeol.    —— ( ☯ for an adoring text )

get a text from chanyeol.    —— ( ★ for a dumb meme or inside joke text )