later bb

Introduction

This day can’t get any worse.

Your flight is delayed. To make matters worse,you wish you were able to fly out during the day. Instead, you’re forced to fly in the evening since abandoning the class you teach in order to take a more convenient flight is frowned upon, generally. Even then, as you drive to the airport in rush hour traffic, you notice the progressive darkening of the sky as clouds hang low, heavy and full with unshed rain. And sure enough, as you wait in the gate, the first clap of thunder signals to you that you would be stuck here for a long, long time. 

As the flight is delayed for a second time, a full hour after your scheduled takeoff, your phone pings. 

Hi! Do you want to walk to the opening plenary together?

Stella, your first-year advisee, is a sweet girl, smart as a whip and knows more about occupational health than some people on your level, but she has what you affectionately call first-year clinginess, a tendency of first-years PhD students to hide behind their advisors in a mixture of both social anxiety and a hope for a networking opportunity. As if by sticking with you, they’ll magically be given the opportunity of a lifetime; a paper in a top-tier journal, or a tenure-track job at the most prestigious universities. 

Because that’s what these conferences are, right? People will say that they’re to discuss current research, share findings that will soon be published, “foster knowledge”, as some of the older faculty members who already have job security and respect in the field will say. But really, it’s clout-chasing. Shaking hands and swapping LinkedIn QR codes with people that you will most likely never speak to again. For most, it’s really about a socially acceptable environment to get shit-faced with a bunch of your other nerd friends and trying to find the bars that your students are not so likely to show up to. 

You remember being like Stella, being so anxious about conferences. You would attend a session every hour, try to strike up a conversation with the panelists afterwards, rehearse your elevator pitch every night in your hotel room. But now? You’re lucky if you even make it to more than one reception.

And to make matters worse, your field’s annual conference always conflicts with—

You roll your eyes and focus on the matter at hand. How childish. You begin to type back your response to Stella.

Sorry, my flight is delayed and I’m missing the plenary. I would walk with Kevin if you can find him!

Oh, okay. See you at lab lunch tomorrow!

It takes another hour, but your flight finally takes off. It’s impossible to get comfortable on the flight, because of course it is. Turbulence shakes you awake every time you start to doze off, and the motion makes it impossible for you to do anything productive on your laptop. The only thing you can do is stare at the back of the seat in front of you, praying that if the plane goes down, it will be a quick and merciful death. 

If only this were the end of your misfortunes for the day.

The Uber driver gets lost, and a missed turn adds about twenty minutes to your ride to the hotel. He even has the audacity to ask for your number at the end of it, a sickeningly sleazy smile on his face. By the time you’ve checked in, heading up the elevator to your room, you want nothing more than to just settle in between some crisp hotel sheets, melatonin working its way through your system, a long and dreamless night’s rest before you. 

But of course, because this is the day from hell, you just have to run into him. 

You’re just about to step into your room, literally one foot inside, when the room next door opens up and out walks Byun Baekhyun.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Baekhyun looks up at the sound of your voice. Just like that, his expression hardens, eyes narrowing in greeting. He looks at you like you’re not a person, rather, a problem to solve. He gets that look in his eye that he always gets when he’s thinking, the gears in his head whirring away. “Just getting in?” he asks, and you know you’re not imagining the slight judgment in his voice.

“My flight was delayed,” you say stiffly. “How was the plenary?”

“You know I don’t go to that,” he scoffs. “I’m heading out to dinner.”

“Judging me for just getting in while you’re actively playing hooky.” You tsk your tongue at him. “Honestly, where do you get the nerve?”

Baekhyun shrugs. “It’s networking.”

“You call everything networking.”

“At least I’m actually doing something productive with my time here instead of just hiding out in my hotel room or attending sessions. It’s a conference. Lighten up a little.” He turns on his heel and heads to the elevators, lifting a hand in goodbye. “See ya around! Or not.”

Fuming, you head into your hotel room. God you can’t stand him, haven’t been able to stand him for years. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you have to see him around year after year, especially on the one day a year you would actually like to be pleasant, now he’s your next door fucking neighbor. You close your eyes and exhale deeply through your nose. It’s fine, it’s fine, you tell yourself. He’s never ruined your birthday before, he wouldn’t start now. 

You open your eyes and meet your tired reflection in the mirror. As long as you keep to yourself, keep the interactions with Baekhyun confined to the conference itself, surely things would go smoothly.

“Surely,” you say out loud. The answering silence seems to mock your naivety.

Theoretical Background

You met Byun Baekhyun at your first ever conference. 

At your university’s reception, your advisor, Minseok, waved you over from where you were chattering politely with your cohort. “Come here,” he said, smiling warmly, his cheeks slightly reddened from the alcohol. “I want to introduce you to a colleague of mine. This is—”

“Dr. Kim!” you exclaimed, then turned red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I really love your work, we have a lot of research interests in common.”

“Call me Junmyeon,” he said, laughing a bit in amusement. “And that’s what Minseok here was telling me. And this,” he waved over someone about your age, “is my first-year, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun smiled at you, and sometimes you think of this moment as the last time you ever thought of Baekhyun with anything other than deep-seated resentment and anger. He stuck out compared to you and the other first-years. Where you felt a bit more formal than the other faculty and professionals in the room, stiff and awkward, Baekhyun seemed more relaxed in his business-casual wear, hands buried in his pockets. “Nice to meet you,” he said coolly. He stuck his hand out to shake yours before resuming his casual posture.

“Maybe we can have a bit of a cross-university collaboration?” Minseok said. He nudged Junmyeon in the side. “Be a bit like the old days?”

“Will you sleep in the lab and pretend like you didn’t even though you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes?” 

The four of you laughed good-naturedly. Back then, you thought that this would be the beginning of a beautiful academic relationship, if not a genuine friendship.

That all fell apart the next morning.

You stood in front of your poster, anxiety and excitement bubbling in your chest. Your first conference! Your first poster! You engaged in some conversations with interested passerby, your pitch perfectly polished. It was going really well for the first half-hour.

And then Baekhyun came.

You’ll never forget the way that he squinted as he read your poster, lips moving as he read the words to himself. You don’t know why his approval mattered so much to you at that moment. Maybe it was because he had an advisor you looked up to, maybe it was because he actually knew the material, maybe it was just because you wanted a friend. It didn’t matter, anyway. All of these hopes and dreams fell by the wayside when he turned to you and said,

“This is wrong. Isn’t it?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “What do you mean?”

Baekhyun pointed at your results table. “Your interpretations suggest a full mediation. But there’s a partial mediation in your results, see? So it’s not fully capturing what you’re claiming is the takeaway.” 

Your brows furrowed. “Yeah, but a partial mediation is not insignificant. I say that future research should focus on finding the other explanations for the direct pathway.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I dunno. It kinda seems like too simple an explanation. Partial mediation is just the easy way of saying, ‘We were wrong.’ Also, you know that this is an outdated concept? Like they’re calling for the complete overhaul of it.”

You had not, in fact, known that. 

You felt your cheeks burning with embarrassment as your mind clambered for something intelligent to say, some sort of comeback that would save this entire interaction. But your treacherous mind couldn’t, so instead, you just gaped at him. 

Baekhyun pursed his lips, seemingly amused at your silence. “I have some ideas about how you can improve the design, we could talk about it sometime. Especially since these days, cross-sectional research isn’t considered good enough for publication.”

You watched as he turned away, already scrutinizing the poster next to yours before you could even reply. Isn’t considered good enough. The words echoed, bouncing around your skull. 

Not good enough, not good enough.

The words followed you through the rest of the day, distracting you from the sessions you attended. You forgot people’s names the moment you met them, leading you to try and look at their name tags without them noticing. They even followed you all the way to the next morning, when you found yourself back in the poster hall. At the time, you told yourself that it was just total coincidence that you found yourself in front of Baekhyun’s poster, but the reality probably was that his name in the agenda had caught your eye and you hyperfixated on it, your body able to carry you there without you even realizing. 

His poster was good. Really good. Thorough, with advanced statistics to back it up. Impressive implications for both academics and practitioners. It didn’t seem like the work of a first-year, no, it was very, very advanced.

Baekhyun turned to you after wrapping up a conversation with another passerby. “Whad’ya think?” he beamed.

It’s good, you thought. But that sinking, icky feeling from yesterday rose like bile in your throat. You sought for something, anything to pick apart on his poster, to bring him down to where he had left you. He looked at you expectantly, smugly, as if he knew. As if he knew what you were trying to do, and that you were unable to do it.

Aha.

“I think your theoretical argument is a little weak. I can think of two other theories that are stronger and point to what you’re actually looking at. For example, have you heard of Work-Home Resources Theory?”

Baekhyun blinked. “Uh… is it similar to Conservation of Resources?”

You nod enthusiastically, your voice picking up speed and volume as you talk, as it always does when you’re excited. “It’s similar, but better. It’s a more optimistic view of the way people treat their resources, rather than from a depletion and conservation standpoint.”

He opened his mouth, then stopped. His eyes sharpened and the gears in his head turned, turned, turned. “Optimism doesn’t make a theory better. Look, if this is about yesterday, I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, I was just suggesting—”

“I’m just making a suggestion too,” you cut in. “This theory takes macro and micro resources into account, as well as the personal resources that an individual builds up over time. If you want to do research that’s more connected with the broader context, you have to take all of those things into consideration.” 

You hated the words coming out of your mouth, a mixture of nonsensical buzzwords that the try-hards around you used to sound smart. 

But you loved the look on Baekhyun’s face even more. 

“You—” For a moment, you saw past his polished yet comfortable attitude, revealing something rawer, electric, inside. The side that all academics had that no one wanted to admit to. Pure, ugly, ego. But just as fast as it had appeared, it melted away, sinking back into the depths of his psyche. “I think we can have a more productive conversation about this some other time, yeah?”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Sure. Anytime.”

You never did have that conversation, and a pattern of constantly trying to one up the other formed. The next year, he returned to your poster, poked holes in your argument with that same smug smile. When he spoke at his first panel, you were in the front row, asking way too many difficult questions. It got so commonplace that when Minseok made you practice your presentations, he asked you to imagine what Baekhyun would say. 

This rivalry continued after school as well, as both of you landed assistant professor positions upon graduation. When you won an early career award, Baekhyun was awarded a prestigious grant. When he landed a publication in your field’s top journal, you secured popular press coverage. It was a never-ending cycle, and neither of you were ahead for long enough to get comfortable before the other person overtook them.

Something your students asked you sometimes when they were in the depths of despair, an experiment that wouldn’t work or a fourth round of revisions, was what motivated you to keep going. You fed them the same bullshit answers that anyone would. Doing this research is meaningful or We’re actively contributing to knowledge or even It’s worth it to mentor students like you. All of these things were true to you, in some way and in varying degrees.

But the real truth, the dirty, bitter truth? What kept you going when it was time to be nice to your hostile administration, or deal with an undergrad who was bitter about you not rounding their grade from a C- to an A, or stay up all night writing a new manuscript? It was the look on Baekhyun’s face when you saw him next when he knew you were two steps ahead of him. Nothing pleased you more than the thinly veiled annoyance on his face, the begrudging pleasantries that he was forced to offer you in the company of your peers. You hated him. And that’s what kept you going.

And there was nothing, nothing that could happen that could change your mind.

Methods

You wake up to your phone buzzing on the hotel nightstand. Groggily, you reach out blindly and accept the call without even seeing who it is. “Hello?” you croak into the receiver.

“Happy birthday, my favorite student!” Minseok chirps.

“Minseok, I already know that you call all of your students that.” You yawn, groaning slightly when you look at the time. “And thank you. It means a lot that you remembered.”

“First off, you’re all my favorite students, so it’s not like I’m lying to you. And second, of course I remembered, who do you think I am? I know you hate it when I mention your birthday at the conference so I figured this was the next best thing.”

“At seven in the morning, though?”

“Conference starts at eight~” he sings. “Anyways, we need to catch up! Lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure. But please don’t make me pick the place.”

“I already have the reservation. I’ll see you around!”

You sigh, rubbing your hand over your face. You had definitely hoped to sleep in for another half hour but at this rate you’d never be able to fall back asleep. You get ready lazily, taking breaks to reply to birthday messages from your family and friends. Despite what your introverted tendencies at conferences may have people believe, you actually have a bustling, active social life. You just choose to keep it separate from work, especially this week. It was the best this way, since conferences had a tendency of turning you into someone that you didn’t particularly like being 24/7. 

You’d tried that once. It hadn’t ended well.

The convention center is just a short walk from the hotel, so you breathe in the fresh, unfamiliar air as you try to blink the sleep away from your eyes. There’s a winding river in between your hotel and the convention center, and as you pass over the stone bridge, you take a moment to look out at the body of water for a moment of peace. If you had the energy for it, you’d like to explore the city, but right now you’re just trying to take it one day at a time. 

As you climb the steps to the convention center, a wave of anxiety suddenly floods through you. What if I don’t see anyone I recognize? What if I do? What if I don’t remember someone’s name but they clearly remember mine? You try to laugh it off as you wrap your hand around the door handle. These are such student thoughts. Surely you’re seasoned enough at this point to know how to do these things. You ignore the fact that there’s still a pit of unease in your stomach, settling to the bottom like a rock in water.

It’s busy, overlapping chatter from dozens of small conversations in the lobby. You don’t immediately recognize anyone you know, and you’re unsure of whether this is a good or a bad thing. You’re looking over the agenda for the morning when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi!”

Stella looks very polished in her crisp blazer and button-down, but you can see a slight nervousness in her eyes, that flighty, overwhelmed look that you used to recognize in your own reflection as a younger student. “Hi, Stella. Are you ready for today?”

“I guess so,” she chirps. “Are you attending any of the sessions this morning?”

“We’ll see,” you say. “I might have a meeting with some colleagues later but I’ll definitely see you at lunch later.” A bold faced lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. “What sessions did you have in mind?”

“I was looking at this one,” she says, pointing at the timeslot in the agenda. “It sounds interesting.”

“Oof,” says a voice that appears to your right. “Well I know you won’t be going to that.”

“Good morning, Kevin,” you say. Kevin, your other advisee, is just like any fourth year PhD student: extremely jaded, chronically tired, and completely fucking over it. “Keep your voice down, hm? We’re not in the lab right now.”

“It’s not like it’s a secret,” he says matter-of-factly. “Everyone in this room would probably lose their shit if they saw you enter that room.”

“What’s wrong with this session?” Stella says, voice hushed and eyes wide.

“Nothing at all,” you reply. “You should go if it sounds interesting to you.”

“Dr. Byun’s student is on the panel, so he’ll probably be in the room,” Kevin says bluntly. 

Even Stella, who hasn’t been a part of this world for even a full year, knows enough to nod solemnly, lips pursed. “Well, I don’t have to go to that, then.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Kevin says quickly. For all his brashness, he at least has a soft spot for her. “I think you should go. It’s not like we have to have an alliance against him.” He casts a sideways glance towards you. “Right?”

You sigh. “No, there’s no alliance. This isn’t a clique, it’s research. You should go.”

Kevin snickers. “Just don’t look Dr. Byun in the eyes. He can smell weakness.”

Stella gulps.

You make it through the morning without attending any sessions, successfully avoiding any wayward conversations until it’s time for lunch. The restaurant is beautiful and bustling with people in businesswear, but luckily you don’t recognize anyone directly. The three of you are seated by a wall of mirrors, reflecting the dining room behind you. Stella looks through the menu with a concerned eye. “All of this is really…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “It’s my treat.”

“...Alcohol too?” she asks softly.

“Welcome to grad school,” Kevin says. “We get paid dirt for five years so you might as well get some free drinks when your advisor’s offering.”

Some faculty might bristle at Kevin’s bluntness, but you welcome it with open arms. It wasn’t long ago anyway since Kevin was exactly where Stella was, nervous and overly polite (as hard as that is to believe). Since your first student graduated, you know that he’s been jumping at the chance to be a mentor. Even if it’s in his own, less than savory way. 

You don’t get a chance to decide whether or not to chastise him before the server approaches the table. “Welcome in, may I start you all off with any drinks today?” she asks.

“Yes, can I just get a mimosa to start with?” you say.

“Can I see some ID?” 

You pull it out for her and wince when she gasps. Shit. “Happy birthday!” she says.

“It’s your birthday?!” Kevin and Stella say in unison.

You put your finger to your lips to shush them. They finish ordering their drinks before they turn their attention back to you. “Happy birthday!” Stella says.

“How come you’ve never mentioned that it’s your birthday before?” Kevin asks. 

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” you reply. “I still don’t.”

“Well… we can pay for lunch if you want,” Stella chirps, ignoring Kevin’s glare.

You smile. “That’s very sweet of you but all I want for my birthday is to pay for your lunches and to not mention it anymore.”

Lunch continues smoothly. You like spending time with your students outside of the lab meetings or campus in general. The conversation drifts into work sometimes, but not often enough to make it seem like an official meeting. Instead, they talk about their lives: what they plan to see in the city outside of conference hours, what their summer plans are, the latest social media thing that you’re blissfully unaware of. It reminds you of your lunches with Minseok when you were in their shoes, and that thought comforts you. It tells you that you’re on the right track, that you’re doing something right with your life.

Kevin’s eyes dart behind you and a shadow of annoyance flickers across his face. “Don’t look now,” he mutters.

You don’t even have to. Baekhyun’s loud, corrosive laugh is warning enough before you see his reflection pass in the mirror in front of you. He’s here with his students too, all seven of them. Of course, ever the overachiever, he didn’t stop at accepting one grad student a year (already a considerable task given that each student needs and deserves enough attention to feel like they’re thriving). He sometimes accepted multiple per cycle, so even without counting any undergraduate research assistants, the size of his lab is easily one of the largest in your field. 

“I wonder if his students are happy,” Kevin hums as they pass. “There’s gotta be some serious favoritism, right?”

“Actually, I met one of his first years at the plenary last night,” Stella says. “She said that Dr. Byun gives them all equal attention, and he’s a really great advisor.” She wilts under Kevin’s stare. “What? I thought we said there were no alliances?”

“There aren’t,” you say pointedly. You pick at the edges of your food, trying to hide the loss of your appetite. 

“Am I… allowed to ask what happened?” Stella says timidly. “Like, is he abusive? Is he someone I should watch out for?”

You sigh. “Baekhyun and I have a complicated history. He is not abusive, and he does good science. If you ever want to collaborate with him, or with any of his students, that is your choice and you are free to do so. I just ask that you don’t involve me.”

Kevin leans over and cups the side of his mouth, whispering exaggeratedly. “That’s professional speak for he’s super smart but he’s a massive asshole.”

On your way out of the restaurant, you pass by Baekhyun’s table. A couple of his students notice you and immediately exchange glances with each other, but for the most part, you slip by undetected.

Or so you think. 

At the last second before exiting the building, Baekhyun coolly looks at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in an infuriating smirk. Bye, he mouths, winking. 

You resist the urge to punch him in the face.

“We definitely need to chat, I just loved your latest paper. Do you want to grab dinner with some friends and me tonight?” 

You nod, lips closed tightly as you swallow the mouthful of champagne. This reception has gone on long enough, you think, even if Jongin, the newest addition to your faculty, is genuinely good company. “I’m actually going to call it an early night tonight, I’m afraid. I don’t quite have the energy of you young kids anymore.”

Jongin laughs. “Well, at least I’ll be close to tenure when I’m where you’re at. I’ll take going to bed early for some job security any time. We should schedule lunch when we get back then?”

“Sure,” you smile, weariness hanging around the edges of your eyes. “Well, good night. Enjoy the rest of the conference.”

You say a quick goodbye to Stella and Kevin before hurrying out the doors and into the cool night. These are the moments of conferences that you like the most: wandering around the streets in a new city alone, alternating between looking at a map on your phone and trying to commit the surrounding streets to memory. You pause by the river again, the water now reflecting a deep midnight shade. It’s nice to have just a moment to yourself, a quiet few seconds where you don’t need to worry about looking professional. You continue on your way, ducking into a local convenience store right next to the hotel to find what you’re looking for: a small, personal birthday cake. The frosting is a little lumpy and the price is maybe a bit too high for what you’re getting, but it will do for tonight.

As you make your way back to the room, you’re too distracted by scrolling through your delivery app to find some takeout for dinner to notice that Baekhyun’s in the hallway.

“Already heading in?”

You nearly drop your phone in shock, narrowing your eyes when you see who it is. He’s already changed out of his business casual clothes and into a sweater and dark jeans.

“Skipping the receptions?” you ask. 

“The one for my university was last night.”

“I thought you went to dinner last night.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know there was a one social event limit per night. Are you my mom now?”

“Nice comeback. Didn’t realize we were in elementary school,” you sneer. 

Baekhyun peers around you, peeking into the plastic bag in your arms. “What’s that? Drugs?”

You laugh sharply. “Even if it was, I wouldn’t share. Go find your own.”

He grins lopsidedly, leaning his arm against the wall. “C’mon, just one peek? I wanna know what you’re getting up to that’s so good you won’t join any of the festivities tonight.”

His tone brings about a burst of anger in you. Usually you’re immune to his antics but it’s your birthday and you’re tired and all you want to do is sit on the floor of this hotel room and eat your cake in some peace and quiet. “It’s actually none of your fucking business,” you spit. 

Your outburst surprises him. You can see it on his face, the way his eyebrows knit together, lips parting ever so slightly. For all the backhanded compliments and petty arguments, you’ve never actually raised your voices at each other. He recovers quickly, running a hand through his hair, though his voice is hard enough to cut. “Well, whatever. Have fun holing up and being a hermit while the rest of us humans actually interact.”

That does it. Something deep within you snaps. Your annoyance overflows, bubbling up to the surface until you’re sure that your face is bright red. You press your keycard to the door and open it, shoving one foot in the doorway while you have one last word. “You know, I’d rather be anti-social and be by myself than spend my birthday with a fucking asshole like you, who thinks you’re better than everyone else just because your h-index is higher. Christ.”

The last thing you see before the door slams shut is the look of pure shock on Baekhyun’s face.

You take a shower just how you like it: scalding hot and incredibly long. While you’re in there, the frustrations of the whole interaction melts away. You’re actually a tad disappointed in yourself. It’s fun to make witty digs back and forth in the middle of a convention center. It’s not so fun to blow up at him, emotions vulnerable and on full display.

You’re in the middle of drying your hair and trying to come up with ways to get back at him when there’s a soft knock on the door. 

Baekhyun looks like a kicked puppy. You can practically imagine his tail tucked between his legs, ears flattened low against his head. In one hand, he holds a bottle of wine and in the other, a plastic bag of takeout.

“This is for you,” he says softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

You regard him for a moment. You have a chance here to reject him, make him feel as awful as he made you feel. You could slam the door in his face and tell him to shove that wine bottle up his ass. But…

He looks up, dark eyes shining with real remorse. Not even a hint of the smug superiority that you’re so used to seeing reflected back at you. 

You reach out and take the items from him. “Thank you,” you say. And against your better judgment, you open the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows. “Oh. I didn’t think you wanted me here. I only got enough food for one. But I have some leftovers that I can grab and I can eat with you if you want.”

“Sure.” He runs next door to his room and the thought settles in that you’re about to spend your birthday dinner with Byun Baekhyun. Past you would never have imagined that it would come to this. Hell, the you from this morning would never have imagined that it would come to this. 

You eye the leftover container in his hands when he returns, identical to the one that you’re currently holding. “Is this from the same place?” 

“Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “It’s really good! I got you something different though, I remember you don’t like pork.”

“You… remember that?” You remember making some offhand comment about it years ago when he was in earshot, but it’s something that most people don’t really remember, let alone Byun Baekhyun.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I have a really good memory,” he says.

You settle onto the floor across from each other and start digging into your food. The food is really good, and it is nice to have someone with you for your birthday, you suppose. But…

This whole thing is horrifically awkward.

What do you even say to someone who you’ve only spent making passive-aggressive digs at for the better part of a decade who suddenly decides to be nice for a change? After you compliment the food and he agrees with you, awkward silence descends over the two of you like a dark cloud. You don’t know where to look— at him? The food in front of you? The floor? Even Baekhyun, who you’ve never seen fumble at a social interaction in his life, seems to be at a loss for words.

“This is… awkward, right?” you say finally, breaking the tense bubble.

He laughs in relief, the tension in his shoulders releasing. He finally fully meets your gaze. “I’m glad you said something about it. I don’t do very well when it’s quiet.”

“I’m used to it,” you say. “I’ve grown to like it a lot.”

Baekhyun frowns slightly. “How come you never told anyone that it’s your birthday? We have the same circles and no one even mentioned it.”

You shrug. “I’ve always accepted that the conference will coincide with it, and everyone’s always so busy with different meetings and session prep if I’m not busy myself. I just decided that it’s better to not take away from it and just wait to celebrate properly when I’m home with my friends and family. Minseok knows and that’s about it.”

He nods. “Oh, that’s good. I thought that—”

“You thought I was gonna be sitting in here feeling sorry for myself because I had no one to celebrate my birthday with?”

“Well… yeah, kinda,” he says helplessly. 

“I have friends, Baekhyun. They’re just not in academia.”

He hums, looking back down at his food. “Wonder what that’s like.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, so you fall back into silence, only this time it doesn’t feel so oppressive. A few minutes pass before he speaks again.

“You know…” he says sharply.  “I don’t look down on people if my h-index is higher than theirs.”

You stifle the urge to laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, really. Besides, yours is higher than mine.”

Now you laugh. “Oh, so you care enough to know whose is higher, though.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but a smile settles on his face. “Just with you,” he replies easily. “I only care if it’s you.”

“Glad to know the feeling is mutual.” You take another bite of your food before the next thing to say pops in your mind. “Congrats on the Nature publication, by the way.”

“Thanks.” He pauses. “That’s it? No snarky comment?”

“I’m feeling generous. It’s my birthday after all.”

Baekhyun smirks. “We’ll see how you feel when the Nature paper bumps my h-index up. Then you’ll probably write a commentary hit piece on it calling it juvenile.”

“Come on, you know I wouldn’t. I’d rather just wait until next year and give you a couple of jabs here and there.”

“You’re right,” he smiles crookedly. “You wouldn’t do anything that would require any extra work.”

You fake a gasp. “Maybe I will write a commentary piece then.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

You hold his gaze defiantly for a few seconds before you sigh. “I can’t. It’s actually a really good paper, Baekhyun.”

The corner of his mouth twitches before settling into a genuine smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“It helps that you cited me too.”

“Yeah, well.” He waves his hand in the air. “Something something, you’re one of the leading scholars in this research area, something something.”

“Aw, Byun,” you coo. “You almost said something nice about me.”

He snorts. “Don’t get used to it. Anyways, what was in the bag? I’m kind of hoping it’s drugs now.”

“Don’t get too excited.” You fish in the bag and pull out the cake. “You want a slice?”

“Fuck yeah, I want a slice. Do you want me to sing for you?”

“Please, no.”

He pouts. “You’ve never even heard me sing. Some have described it as life-changing.”

“Baekhyun, I can barely handle your academic ego on a good day, please don’t have one about other things too.”

“Okay, fine. I won’t sing if you promise to go out with me tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Out? Like…?”

“Oh my God, please, don’t make it weird,” he says quickly. “Me, Chanyeol, whoever else wants to come. You can even invite someone if you want. If you don't, I'm gonna sing happy birthday to you at the top of my lungs.”

“I don’t know Baek—”

“HAPPY—”

“Okay, okay! I’ll come. Shut your fucking mouth or you don’t get any cake.” 

He laughs, really laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling up around the edges in an endearing way. You roll your eyes when he pushes the clean side of his takeout container forward, eagerly snapping his mouth shut in an exaggerated manner, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling. 

Results

Something’s… different.

You feel lighter, more at ease. You navigate the conference with less pressure on your shoulders, waving to people that you recognize and not even feeling a pit of dread when the more eager ones stop you to talk. You even sit in on a random session just because it looked interesting. When was the last time you did that?

Minseok notices this too. “You seem really good,” he remarks on the walk back to the convention center after a pleasant lunch. “Conference treating you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you say. “I went to this really good session about empathy in the workplace for different work-family conflicts. It gave me a little idea for a potential study.”

Minseok nearly stops in his tracks, eyes wide. “Okay. Who are you?”

“Careful,” you joke. “Or I won’t ask you to advise.”

“Ah, there you are,” he replies, falling back into step beside you. “But seriously, I’m happy for you if this is what you want. Don’t force yourself to go too far.”

“I won’t.”

“Seriously.” He looks at you solemnly. “I worry about you sometimes, you know? I don’t want what happened in your fourth year to happen again.”

You wince. “It won’t, okay? I promise that I’m doing this because I want to.”

He sighs. “Alright, I trust you. Hey, is that…?”

You follow his gaze and your stomach turns. It’s Baekhyun, because of course it is, and he’s heading directly towards you. 

Before last night, you would have handled this the way you always have: a stiff nod of the head, some backhanded comment about his latest achievement, and then off on your merry way. It’s gotten so common that Minseok knows not to scold you for it anymore. But now you don’t quite know where things stand. 

You think that maybe you’d just pass by each other in awkward silence before Baekhyun decides how to handle the interaction for you. He stops in front of you and…

Smiles.

“Hey,” he says. “Hi, Dr. Kim. Having a good conference?”

“Hello, Baekhyun,” Minseok replies. If he’s surprised by the friendly atmosphere, he’s doing a really good job at hiding it. “Yes, I’m having a good time. I was surprised to see you’re not presenting this year.”

“Yeah, I decided to take a more supportive role for my students this time. I think this is my first conference ever not presenting. It feels a bit strange, to be honest.”

“You’re wearing glasses,” you blurt out. 

The thin, wire frames sit prettily on the bridge of his nose, and you had never known of their existence in all those years of knowing him. He touches the side of the frames somewhat self-consciously and chuckles. 

“I didn’t get a chance to put my night contacts in last night,” he says sheepishly. “I don’t really like wearing them out, but hey, what can you do? By the way, we haven’t decided a place for tonight yet but let me get your number so I can text you?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” You pass your phone to Baekhyun and let him text himself, ignoring the way that Minseok’s gaze is currently burning holes into the side of your head. You keep studying Baekhyun’s glasses. It’s weird how something like this seems to change not only his appearance, but the entire image that you had of him in your head. It’s not like you expected him to be static all this time, to be the same year after year, but… maybe you did, actually. 

“I’ll try to let you know as soon as I can,” he says, handing your phone back, completely oblivious to the way you’ve been staring. “Bye, Dr. Kim.”

As soon as Baekhyun’s passed you, Minseok clears his throat. “Do I want to know?”

“There’s nothing to know,” you say.

“Right.”

The lounge is an upscale one, one where you have to squint at the menu to read it in the candlelight or risk the social awkwardness of pulling out your phone flashlight. The pages are full of wildly inventive cocktails with ingredient pairings only someone with way too much time on their hands would think to put together. It’s a strange group gathered here: you and Baekhyun, sworn academic enemies until about 24 hours ago; Chanyeol, someone you vaguely remember as being from Baekhyun’s graduate cohort; and Jongin, who nearly tripped over himself with excitement when you invited him along. 

“I wish Baekhyun didn’t veto my suggestion of the club down the street,” Chanyeol frowns, taking a sip of his drink. “Places like these make me feel so stuffy.”

“Well, that’s the most popular club in the city, and I’m sorry for not wanting to see my students blackout drunk,” Baekhyun snorts. He’s changed out of his conference clothes, swapping his button down shirt for a black turtleneck that even you have to admit makes him look really good. The candlelight glints off the metal of his glasses, constantly drawing your attention to them. “I think that’s taking the advisor-advisee relationship a bit too far.” 

“Should have just gone applied like me,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t have to worry about students, don’t have to teach classes, I make about twice as much as you…”

“It’s not all about the money,” Jongin pipes up. “What about, y’know… fulfillment?”

Chanyeol laughs and claps Jongin on the back good-naturedly. “Oh, to be young again.”

“Blech. No more job talk.” Baekhyun leans forward and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, smiling wickedly. “So, Jongin,” he says, jerking his head towards you. “What’s it like working with her? Is she as much of a hard-ass on everyone as I think she is?”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need to answer that, Jongin.”

“No she’s— you’re really great.” Jongin smiles. “It’s only my first year, and she really helped me a lot with the adjustment. She even helped me pick my first incoming advisee for the fall when I couldn’t decide.”

“Aw,” Baekhyun coos. Jongin isn’t fluent enough in Baekhyun-isms to know he’s being made fun of, so you shoot him a dirty look from across the table. “How cute.”

“And she sings really well too.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows lift. “Oh? You sing around the office?”

Your ears burn bright red as Jongin continues, oblivious to your embarrassment. “No, we went to a karaoke bar one night after the conference submission deadline. Of course I sounded like a dying bird, but she really killed it.”

“Karaoke bar?” Chanyeol perks up. “We should go to one right now!”

“No,” you and Baekhyun say flatly in unison. 

“Can I at least buy us a round of shots if you’re not going to be any fun?” Chanyeol whines. 

“Sure, Yeol.” Something unreadable passes through Baekhyun’s expression, a slight flicker in the dark. “Make them doubles.”

“So… Jongin seems nice.”

The night air is cool, not holding any of the humidity present during the day. You and Baekhyun walk side by side through the back roads, away from the hustle and bustle of the main areas where other tourists and conference-goers roam. You can see your hotel just a block away. Your feet are killing you in your heels, but you resist the urge to take them off and walk the rest of the way barefoot. Somehow that seems too… intimate in front of Baekhyun.

“Hm? Yeah, he’s nice. A little skittish, but who isn’t during their first year?”

“You were?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “I always pictured that you entered that university and made everyone your bitch. Professionally, I mean.”

You laugh. “Well, no. I was a nervous wreck. I kept napping in my office because I would get so stressed during teaching that I would just crash after.”

Baekhyun nods. “And you hang out with him… casually?” 

“Just the one time. Why?”

“I dunno. I guess I’m so used to picturing you one way that it’s weird when there’s evidence to the contrary.”

“What, like, you picture me as some kind of girlboss, takes no shit from anyone, eats manuscripts for breakfast?”

“Well… yeah, kinda.” Baekhyun holds the front door of the hotel open for you. “So hearing about you going to karaoke with Pretty Boy back there kinda messes with my head.”

You stop in your tracks and glare at him. 

“What?” he asks, oblivious.

You scoff, taking off towards the elevators. Baekhyun stalks after you, calling your name. “What the fuck did I say this time?” he huffs.

“If you’re implying that there’s something unprofessional going on between Jongin and I then you’re way out of fucking line,” you say harshly. 

“Hold on, I wasn’t accusing you of anything. It was just an observation.”

The elevator dings and the two of you get in. You all but punch the button for your floor. “Just because it’s an observation doesn’t make you any less of a dick,” you mutter.

Baekhyun throws his hands up. “I’m sorry for just stating the obvious.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “The obvious?”

He laughs dryly. “Don’t be stupid. He clearly wants you.”

“Oh wow. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”

“The kid was practically drooling hanging onto your every word. So, my bad for thinking that something was going on there.”

The elevator doors open and you rush off to your room, but Baekhyun’s hot on your heels. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure if the two of you wanted to have a salacious affair it wouldn’t be a big deal, just don’t fuck on campus.”

You whirl around. “Jongin and I are just coworkers. And even if we weren’t, what’s the big deal? Is it that unfathomable to you that someone would find me attractive?”

“Well, of course it’s not.”

You freeze. Suddenly, your heartrate feels like it’s tripled, thudding in your ribcage. “What?”

“You heard me. Of course Jongin finds you attractive.”

You wait for the other shoe to drop, for the punch line to this cruel prank. But it never comes. He just stares at you earnestly, gaze brimming with something dangerous beneath the surface. 

“If this is a joke, this is really mean, Baekhyun,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“This isn’t a joke.” He takes a step closer. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? Of course Jongin finds you attractive, because you are really fucking hot.” He slowly reaches out to cup his hand around your arm, drawing you even closer to him. “Especially when you’re pissed,” he whispers.

“You’re drunk,” you say incredulously.

“Stone cold sober. Do I seem drunk to you?”

He doesn’t, and that’s what scares you. He seems as sharp as he always is, the gears in his head whirring away. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were eyeing me earlier when I ran into you and Minseok.”

You gape at him. “You noticed that?”

“Of course I noticed. You were shameless.” 

“Shut up,” you whisper, but your voice doesn’t hold any heat in it anymore. 

He draws in closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His hands travel down to your waist, hovering on the edge between polite and uncharted territory. “Just tell me how badly you want this. If you don’t, I’ll go to my room and we will never speak of this again. Promise.”

You swallow. Your head is spinning, heartbeat stuttering. You feel like every breath you take is much too loud in the silent hallway. He lets out an exhale, his warm breath traveling across your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

You don’t know why you say the next three words. All you know is that it’s true. 

“I want this,” you whisper.

Baekhyun crashes his lips against yours, your back hitting the wall. It’s a messy, frantic kiss, hungry and possessive. Your breath hitches in surprise as your brain tries to catch up with your body, your arms wrapping around his neck. You kiss him back with equal fervor, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.

His mouth travels lower, down your jawline, sucking on the delicate skin behind your ear. “Baekhyun,” you murmur. “Inside.” You scramble around blindly for your keycard in your pocket and tap it against the door, unable to untangle yourself from him for even a second.

The moment you’re inside he’s pulling at your top, clumsily tearing it off your body as he walks you backwards towards the bed, the backs of your knees hitting the mattress. You fall backwards onto the sheets, chest heaving as you look up at him. “God,” he says raggedly, staring at your body with ravenous desire. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Hurry up and fuck me,” you pant. 

“So mouthy,” he huffs. He slips his ring and middle fingers past your lips, pressing down on your tongue. “Get them wet for me.”

You swirl your tongue around the digits, hollowing your cheeks as if they were his cock. He stares at you, jaw going slack. With his other hand, he fumbles with your pants and underwear, pulling them down past your thighs just enough for him to slip his hand through. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, spit trailing across your chin, before he slips them inside your cunt.

You exhale breathily as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, leaning down to leave kisses all over your neck and chest. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close to you as the pleasure builds, the slick squelching sounds of your wetness growing louder and louder. Still, even as electricity starts to thrum in your blood, you refuse to give in entirely to the feeling, your lips pressed shut in a thin, firm line. Call it pride, call it ego, but you refuse to let Byun Baekhyun of all fucking people earn your moans and praise so easily.

“You’re holding back,” he calls you out. He switches the angle of his hand, grinding your clit with the heel of his palm with every thrust. “What do I have to do to hear you, hm? You want my mouth?”

“Just do better, maybe,” you bite back, raising an eyebrow. 

In a flash he’s off of you, tugging your clothes completely off of your body and discarding them somewhere on the floor. You don’t even get the chance to be self-conscious about being fully bare in front of him. He simply bends you in half, your thighs to your chest, and buries his tongue into your pussy without preamble.

“Holy fuck!” you cry out, hooking your hands around the back of your knees to hold yourself open for him. It’s sudden, your body jerking with the shock, eyes squeezing shut.

“There she is,” Baekhyun murmurs, clearly pleased with himself. His fingers resume their position deep inside of you, parting his fingers slightly to make room for his tongue between them. 

“Don’t fucking stop,” you gasp, chest heaving with exertion. The onslaught of sensation is so intense, more intense than anything you’ve ever felt before. He’s messy, spreading your wetness all over your inner thighs, but skilled. He alternates between sticking his tongue inside of you, to giving hard licks against your clit, to sucking on the sensitive nub. You look down at him to find that he’s just as wrecked as you feel, eyes half-lidded, nose and lips dripping wet, glasses askew. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging harshly at a particular devastating suck.

He groans, eyes rolling back briefly before he changes the angles of his fingers again. This time, he hits your sweet spot dead on, your back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, right there, right there,” you whimper. You struggle to hold your legs open as he hits it again, and again, each time increasing the overwhelming tidal wave building inside of you. “I’m gonna cum,” you manage to choke out before your orgasm overtakes you, rolling through you in waves of white-hot fire. You drown in it, sparks behind your eyelids as it sears through your blood, body trembling like a livewire under his touch.

Baekhyun stands and strips himself quickly, stepping out of his clothes before climbing back onto the bed. He urges you to roll onto your stomach, propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn your head back to look at him as he settles over your thighs. “Keep them on,” you say hurriedly when he lifts his hand to take his glasses off.

He smirks. “Oh? Why’s that?” 

“You’re such an egomaniac, oh my God.”

SMACK. You jolt as his hand strikes the skin of your ass, a surprised moan ripping from your throat. “Don’t think I won’t walk out of here,” Baekhyun warns, soothing the reddening skin with his hand.

“Oh, please,” you deadpan, even as your skin tingles. “You need this just as badly as I do.”

“Maybe,” he replies. He spreads you apart and teases your hole with the head of his cock. “But judging by how fuckin’ wet you are, I’d guess that you need this pretty fucking bad. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You don’t get to reply before he’s pushing all the way in, sheathing himself fully inside you. You both gasp in tandem, your head dropping forward onto the sheets as he pulls back out all the way, torturously slow. 

“Tell me how badly you want this,” he says, thrusting the tip of his cock in shallowly. 

“Seriously?” you whine.

He drapes himself all the way over you, his chest pressing against your back. He reaches around with one arm and holds you in a headlock, your neck stabilized between his forearm and bicep. His breath is hot against your ear, voice pitched low and gravelly.

“I said…” he murmurs, pushing the blunt head of his cock back inside of you inch by inch. “Tell me how fucking badly you want me to ruin you.”

Your head is reeling, so dizzy with want that you can’t even care anymore about keeping up this facade. You try to arch into him but he presses down on your hip firmly with his free hand. “I need it so bad,” you breathe. “Please.”

He kisses your temple and chuckles lowly. “Good girl.” He winds back and buries himself inside you, slamming his hips against yours. He lets go of your throat and pins your wrists behind your back, holding them down firmly.

You bite the covers beneath you in an effort to not be too loud, but you know deep down it’s all in vain. “Fuck, Baekhyun,” you moan, voice muffled. “More.”

“More?” he laughs breathily, upping the pace of his hips. “So greedy.” 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to feel the crest of your orgasm beginning to form. You squirm, hips wriggling underneath his weight to no avail. He has you firmly underneath him, and the thought just turns you on that much more. 

“I’m getting close,” you whimper.

You feel his hand in your hair as he presses your face into the mattress, slightly cutting off your air flow as he pounds into you. Your head grows fuzzy, voice pitching higher and higher until all that comes out are choked, pathetic whimpers. “Baek—” you mewl. The searing feeling low in your gut is hot enough to burn. “Close— please.” 

He suddenly jerks your head up, pulling your body taut. You gulp in air greedily, the sudden shift in the angle bringing about your second orgasm with an unprecedented ferocity. You shake in his grasp, mouth falling open as your body succumbs to the sensation. 

He flips you over onto your back and enters you once again, your thighs twitching through the aftershocks. Now that you can fully see his face, you can see just how wrecked he truly is. For all his taunting dirty talk, he seems just barely holding it together, a fucked-out, intense expression on his face. His hair damp with sweat, cheeks and ears flushed pink, glasses hanging low on his nose. It sends a thrill through you, seeing him like this, a sick sort of satisfaction blooming within you that comes from the knowledge that he’s just as desperate as you are. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he rasps, looking down at where your bodies are connected. You’re soaked, fluid slickening both of your inner thighs, a creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock. It’s so dirty but you can’t look away, can’t stop watching his cock slide in and out of you, the fluid roll of his hips, the tensing in his thigh muscles with each movement. 

“Feels so good,” you whimper, drawing him close to connect your lips with his.  “You’re fucking me so— mm, so deep.”

He shudders, hips stuttering. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut. 

“You like that?” You rake your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands at the nape of his neck. “You like it when I tell you you’re doing a good job?”

“Y-Yeah. I like it, shit.”

Your nails drag lightly down the sides of his neck, over his collarbone and down the expanse of his chest. “Good boy,” you coo, emboldened by his sudden gasp at the pet name. Your nail passes gently over his nipple, catching slightly over the raised bud.

“O-Oh, fuck,” he keens suddenly, tucking his head against his chest. His words are slightly slurred, drunk on the sensations, drunk on you. “I’m not gonna last long if you do that again.”

You hook your legs around his waist, locking him against you. He sputters, and you take the opportunity to slip your thumb into his mouth, cupping the side of his face with your hand. He sucks on it obediently, eyes wide and dark with wanton desperation. “Admit that you were jealous and then you can cum.”

“Jealous of what?” he huffs.

“You were jealous of Jongin earlier.” Your other hand reaches up to tug at his hair, making him whimper. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes— fuck I was.” He snaps his hips harder at the memory. “You happy?”

You smile, satisfied. With your other hand, you drag your nails back down his chest, making sure to pass over his nipple. “I want you to fill me up,” you murmur. “Cum in me, make a fucking mess.” He cums with a heated growl, pushing his hips flush against yours, cock throbbing inside of you as he empties himself inside of your cunt. He gasps for breath, leaning into your touch, nudging his face against the side of your hand. 

“Good boy,” you say, trying to steady your own voice. 

Baekhyun’s eyes suddenly open with a renewed intensity, a wicked grin forming on his face as he pushes back in. “Not fucking done,” he rasps, bending down to press your foreheads together. “Need to feel you cum one more time.”

It’s slower, softer, but no less intense, the way he winces with sensitivity, elbows shaking as he holds himself up. It’s a disaster between your thighs, his cum seeping out, dirtying the sheets below, but you’re simply too needy to care. Every thrust sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, and you don’t know whether to try and push away from it or surrender yourself to it entirely.

Baekhyun leans back, holding your hips steady with both hands as he rocks into you, head tipping back as he loses himself in the feeling. He looks like sin itself, red trails that your nails traced blooming across his chest, skin flushed and damp, lips wet and kiss-swollen. A steady stream of noise falls from his lips, barely audible over the slick noises of sex. 

“I’m close again,” you choke out, one hand gripping the sheets below you and one gripping his forearm. He presses his thumb against your clit and then you’re gone, shaking all the way through it, whimpering his name one single, broken time.

He collapses on top of you, brushing your hair out of your eyes. He kisses you tiredly, clumsily, borderline missing your lips entirely until you align your face accordingly. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. It’s different from the way he said it before. Where back then, it could have been a one-off statement said in the throes of heat, here it feels reverent. Here it feels true.

It makes you more embarrassed than anything else that just transpired. You don’t respond, don’t trust yourself to. You just hold him close to your chest in silence until darkness clings to the back of your eyelids, dragging you deep into a restful sleep.

Discussion

You wake up to the feeling of an arm around your bare waist and a body against your back. It’s comfortable, warm sunlight streaming through the windows. You sleepily watch the shadows cast by the blind slats dance across the wall, your gaze drifting down to the nightstand, then to the hotel clock.

8:32

Fuck.

You immediately spring out of bed, haphazardly pulling your outfit of the day out of your suitcase, clumsily stuffing your legs inside your slacks. “Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter under your breath.

“What the fuck?” Baekhyun mumbles. “What’re you doing?” You look back to see him sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. His hair is a disaster, sticking up every which way, but you don’t even have the time to take in this new image of him.

“Stella has her first session at nine. I told her I would meet up with her a bit early to give her a pep talk. Fuck, I have to go.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He’s more alert now, your adrenaline contagious. “Please tell me you’re not leaving today.”

“No, my flight’s tomorrow afternoon.” You examine your appearance and try to figure out a way to look presentable and less I just got fucked in about five minutes or less. “Baekhyun, I’m not trying to be a dick, but I literally don’t have time to deal with this right now.”

“Will you be able to deal with it tonight?” His expression is timid, maybe even hopeful. It’s certainly the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. 

“Maybe? Probably? I’m sorry, I can’t think right now.” You stick your toothbrush in your mouth, trying to enunciate as best as you can around it. “Again, I’m not trying to be a dick, but…” You look pointedly at the door.

“Right. Yeah, I hope she has a good session.” He quickly gets dressed in last night’s clothing and puts on his glasses, heading towards the door. 

“Last night was—”

“Baekhyun.”

“Sorry, sorry.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward as he pauses to look back at you. “You look pretty.”

“You have twenty seconds to get out of here before I literally wring your neck with my bare hands.”

He yelps, finally pulling the door open and exiting your room hurriedly. He doesn’t see your smile when you turn back to the mirror, and how it doesn’t fall off your face for several minutes afterwards. 

You bumble through the doors with less than four minutes to spare. Up at the podium, Stella catches your eye immediately, waving her hand in a half-greeting, half-cry for help. You collect yourself and walk to the front of the room. “Sorry I’m late,” you say. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m about to throw up and faint at the same time,” she says through a perfectly polished smile. It’s actually pretty impressive, if not a little scary. “They changed the order last minute and I’m first. I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can. You’re incredible and you’re gonna kill it. We’ve gone through it a billion times and you just get better each time. You know this paper like the back of your hand.”

Stella takes a deep breath in. “I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“You won’t,” you say. “And if you do, no one will remember it next time, okay?” You catch the sideways glance from the moderator and nod in acknowledgement. “Alright, you’re up.”

“Kevin has a seat for you in the front row next to Dr. Kim,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You turn and take your seat between Kevin and Minseok, who both look equal parts concerned and relieved to see you. “How was she this morning?” 

“Freaking the hell out,” Kevin replies. “She’ll be fine, though.”

“Cutting it a little close,” Minseok whispers in your ear. 

“Sorry. Had a crazy night last night.”

Minseok grimaces. “Okay, stop. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

The session begins and Stella crushes it. You never had any doubts that she would. Watching her up there is like looking into a mirror, watching your younger self, all her dreams and ambitions and anxieties on full display. She is far from the worst speaker on the panel, delivering her presentation with an ease beyond her years. She even gets a few questions directed towards her at the end, and she answers them with the kind of confidence that you could only dream of at that age.

Stella meets the three of you outside in the hallway after the crowds have died down a little. She squeals in happiness, jumping up and down. “I did it!” she cheers.

“You did! And it was incredible,” you smile. “You handled all of the questions really well.”

“Especially that one asshole,” Kevin rolls his eyes. “I would have told him to fuck himself but your response was good too.”

“Thank you.” She sighs dramatically, her breathing rushing out in a big woosh. “I got super nervous when Dr. Byun walked in.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “What?” You have to stop yourself from swiveling your head wildly to look around for him.

“Yeah, he walked in right when the session started and he stayed in the back row. Left as soon as we wrapped up too.”

You and Minseok share a glance. Baekhyun showing up to any of your panels was a sign of trouble in past years, but showing up to each other’s students' presentations was entirely unheard of. It was especially unlike him to enter and leave without saying a word. 

“Well, you handled it like a professional,” you say. “You guys should celebrate tonight.”

“We are!” Stella chirps.

“I’ll tell you what bar so you can stay away,” Kevin deadpans. “See you next week.”

The two bicker as they walk away, and you and Minseok head in the opposite direction. “There’s something weird going on between you and Baekhyun, huh?” he asks.

You snort. “Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“In any case, I support it. You have this spark in your eye that you used to get as a student. I missed it.”

You smile softly to yourself. You always thought that your biggest motivation came from trying to one-up Baekhyun. That idea is starting to change, slowly but surely. “Thanks, Minseok.”

Can I come over?

The text stays delivered for almost an hour. You’re nearly fully packed by the time you get a response, the vibration against the nightstand almost going unheard.

Yeah

Sorry about the mess

You head next door and knock softly, only having to wait a second before Baekhyun opens it. His hair is wet, and he’s dressed in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, glasses slightly askew on his face. “Sorry I missed your text, I just got out of the shower,” he says sheepishly.

“No problem. Can I come in?”

He swings the door open wider and you enter, eyes widening slightly at the clothes and various items scattered around the floor. Baekhyun notices your stare and winces. 

“I would’ve cleaned up a little before you came but I didn’t want to leave you waiting any longer.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” You laugh. “I thought you would have been really tidy. Like American Psycho clean.”

“God, I wish,” he says. “I’m kind of a disaster.”

“We just keep surprising each other this week, huh?”

“Yeah, speaking of…” His voice trails off. “Should we have the adult discussion now?”

The two of you settle next to each other on the bed, leaving a few inches of space between you that feel like miles. You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you settle them firmly in your lap. 

“Do you have any regrets about last night?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “None at all. You?”

“Not really.”

Silence.

“Um…” Baekhyun laughs self-consciously. “Is that it?” 

“I guess so.” You laugh too, a hysterical bubble that rises in your throat. “You’d think we’d never slept with anyone before.”

“I’ve never slept with a colleague,” he says, fake-scandalized. 

“Aw, are we colleagues now, Byun?” you coo. 

“What else would we be?”

Friends, is the first word that pops into your head. Lovers is the second. 

“Thorns in each other's side?” you say instead. 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, his body language already considerably more relaxed. “I guess another thing I wanted to ask is if this was just a one-time thing.”

You shrug. “I guess so, right? We’re so busy during the year and we don’t even live on the same side of the country. And last night was good but I’m not getting on a plane for a booty call.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Baekhyun mumbles. His hand drifts across the empty space between you, slowly reaching out until his pinky is pressed against your thigh. “Can it… be a two-time thing?”

You scoff, but you’re the one who kisses him in the end. 

It ends up being more than a two-time thing. He empties himself inside of you while you ride him hard, gripping his shoulders and grinding your hips down into him until his voice cracks around the edges. Later, you suck him off as a reward for getting all of his things off the floor and properly packed into his suitcase. And finally, he kneels before you in the shower, making you cum on his tongue, your moans echoing against the tile. You now lay side by side in the dark, clean and spent, although a fourth round was considered for a few minutes. Neither of you explicitly say anything about you spending the night, but the thought of returning to your own quiet room makes your stomach churn.

“Do you need to put in your night contacts?” you ask.

“I think I’ll leave them out again.” He smiles playfully. “I get the feeling that somebody really likes my glasses.”

“Oh, who might that be?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling, before falling back into comfortable silence. “Stella was really good on the panel today,” he says quietly, tracing the love bites on your neck with the pads of his fingers. 

“She was, wasn’t she? She said she saw you come in and it scared her.”

He laughs. “I deserve that, probably. I realized after I left this morning that I’ve never seen your students present. You’ve taught them really well.” He purses his lips in thought. “She reminds me of you.”

“God,” you close your eyes. “Thanks. I hope she doesn’t end up like me.”

“Believe it or not, that was supposed to be a compliment. You know that.”

“How could I know that?” Your eyes fly open and you turn on your side towards him. “We’ve spent our entire professional lives coming at each other’s throats. You hate me.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t hate you. Do you hate me?”

“Well…” Your voice falters. “I do. Or, did.” You wither under his gaze. “Oh, don’t give me that look. If you don’t hate me you sure have a weird way of showing it.”

“I thought that what we did was just banter,” he whines. “Friendly competition.” 

“Do you have ‘friendly competition’ with anyone else?”

“No,” he replies, hurt visible on his face. “You’re the only one that I thought was smart enough to take it.”

“Then why make all those comments about me being antisocial?”

“Oh, that?” He sighs, rolling on his back to look at the ceiling. “I guess that did come from jealousy. I feel like… I feel like I’m performing all the time, y’know? It’s not enough to be smart to make it in academia. You have to play the game, know whose asses to kiss. In grad school I felt like I was a circus animal, and everyone was just lining up to see me dance for peanuts.” He looks at you. “You never cared about any of that, but you’re as successful as you are. So yeah, I got a little jealous.”

You stay silent for a bit, picking your words carefully. “I used to be like that. You know I almost dropped out?”

Baekhyun doesn’t have a big reaction. Doesn’t gasp or widen his eyes. He just says softly, “I didn’t know that.”

“I did everything. I kissed up to everyone I needed to kiss up to, I did so much service, I mentored like six undergraduate students. I would have little bouts of burnout but I just accepted it as part of the job. It didn’t matter that I was getting sick all the time, or that I had about one weekend every quarter off. I kept telling myself that it was going to be worth it. Conferences were the worst. I barely slept because I was planning what I was going to say to everyone I wanted to talk to. My days went from seven to two in the morning the next day, just because I was afraid of missing out.” 

You shake your head as the feelings come back to you. “In my fourth year I hit a breaking point. I went through three rounds of R&R for a paper I had started in my first year, and then they rejected it. They said that the political context had changed so significantly that it wasn’t relevant anymore, and just like that… They killed my baby. If they had found reviewers faster, or if they had even done the reviews in less than six months at a time maybe it would be published. I could have accepted it if it just wasn’t good enough. But everything being out of my control… that was too much for me to handle.”

The memories are painful, but you keep going. “I just felt so hopeless. I had given this everything and it couldn’t even give me one thing in return. I stopped going to class, stopped going to meetings. I didn’t reply to any of Minseok’s emails. I just disappeared for like two months. To me, it felt like my entire world was ending. I grieved that paper. I grieved all the hours I put into it, all the things I had turned down to work on it. I went to Minseok’s office one day to tell him I was done, but before I even got the words out he told me to take the rest of the semester off. He told me that I had to remember what life was like outside of everything.”

Baekhyun nods. “That’s why you graduated a semester late. And you didn’t present anything that year because you missed the submission deadline.”

“Yeah. I was super embarrassed to graduate after you did, but honestly? That semester off might have saved my life. I became a person again. And now everything I do is to make sure that I still am a person outside of my work, and make sure my students are their own people as well. I don’t play the games, I don’t dance. And yeah, it’s made me lose out on some opportunities, but I’m still happy with where I am. It’s a fulfilling job and I’m proud of my work, but it’s not everything I am.”

Baekhyun’s quiet for several beats, processing the information that you’ve just given him. The gears in his head turn, and turn, and turn. 

“I think… I think it might be everything that I am.”

He closes his eyes, and you see his lip trembling in the darkness. “Ever since I knew this was what I wanted to do, it’s all I’ve had time to think about. Everything is so… loud all the time. Up here.” He points at his temple. “I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking in fifteen years. I can’t even enjoy the good parts sometimes, it’s always what’s next or how can I be better?”

Baekhyun sniffs. “I don’t really know how to be a person,” he whispers, voice delicate and sensitive. “This job gets me up in the morning but without it, I don’t think I’d ever wake up again.”

The vulnerability of his statement makes your heart twist in your chest. “Hey.” You reach a hand out and lay it on his chest. “Why don’t we practice being people tomorrow before we fly home, yeah? Let’s just walk around the city and explore. No work talk allowed.”

He doesn’t respond for a long while. “Baek?”

He inhales shakily, then intertwines his fingers with your own. “Yeah. That sounds nice.” He squeezes your hand. “I like it when you call me that.”

You hadn’t even noticed, the nickname slipping out as easily as Sunday morning. You squeeze his hand back, and you fall asleep just like this, holding onto each other in the darkness. 

Conclusion

You leave early the next morning, as early as you and Baekhyun can bear to disentangle yourselves from each other. He’s clingy when he sleeps, wrapping himself around you, mumbling nonsense while lost in his dreams. You take a moment before heading back to your room to gather your belongings to look at him, all of him. The way his hair is a total bird’s nest, how the corners of his mouth droop down into an even poutier frown. He calls your name softly, half-asleep, his voice rough around the edges.

When you return, he’s fully awake, shuffling around the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. Bleary-eyed, he draws you in and kisses you on the forehead, almost as though he doesn’t realize that he’s done it. It’s too domestic, too endearing, and you busy yourself with adjusting the straps of your backpack until the heavy, flustered feeling goes away.

After you check out and store your luggage for the day, the two of you head out with no plan and no agenda. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, the kind with a gentle breeze that keeps you from feeling too hot. “I’m not used to just… wandering,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t even know where to go first.”

Your stomach rumbles. “How about we start with some food?”

You duck into a bakery that you happen to pass by and order some coffees and pastries to go. There’s a bit more walking before you find a nice bench by the river. You eat, watching the passerby go about their mornings. Most people leave the conference on the last day to avoid having to pay for another night at the overpriced hotels, so all that remains are the local joggers, the young parents pushing babies in strollers, elderly couples taking a morning walk.

“So, who are you outside of all of this?” Baekhyun asks. “You said that you make sure that you’re a person outside of work.”

“Well,” you say, wiping the corner of your mouth. “I read. Fiction, not journal articles. I run and hike sometimes when the weather allows. I keep a spreadsheet of all the coffee shops in my city and I’m trying to complete it by the time I’m up for tenure.”

“A spreadsheet?” He wrinkles his nose. “I bet it’s color coded and all that shit.”

“Well, of course it is. How else are you supposed to sort them?”

Baekhyun snorts. “See, you’ve surprised me a lot this week but some things are pretty predictable.”

You toss your crumpled up parchment paper at him and he yelps. “What were you like before grad school?” you ask.

Baekhyun wipes the crumbs off his hands. “I was in a band, actually.”

“No kidding.”

“Yep,” he says, popping his lips on the p. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was a good singer. I also played a lot of video games. I haven’t done anything like that in a while.”

“What about socially? Do you at least do things with other people?”

“Well, yeah, they’re just all in the field. Y’know, I have Chanyeol, some others. I’m not like… completely lonely and hopeless, you know.”

You hold your hands up in defense. “I’m just making sure! What about meeting new people? Do you go on dates?”

“I mean…” He waves his hand noncommittally. “I hook up sometimes but I don’t really do dates. Didn’t have a lot of luck on the apps and just decided it was for the best.”

“Really?” you say a bit too loudly.

“...What?”

“I just… find that hard to believe, that’s all.”

“Why?” He grins cheekily. “Tell me why you think that.”

“No.”

 “Aw, come on. Is it my good looks? My charm? My irresistible intelligence?”

You stand up abruptly. “Let’s keep walking.”

“Y’know, I think you’re really starting to like me,” he says, following close behind. 

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You somehow end up in a small square of sorts, a sprawling park with an old church in the background. Baekhyun spends a while taking some photos of the scenery, then a couple of you posing in front of things. You sneak some candids of him in turn while he explores. The more time that passes, the more he starts to seem less and less like the Baekhyun you thought you knew, morphing into something more true and real right in front of your eyes. 

“We probably have time for one more big thing,” you say, checking your watch. 

“Hm…” Baekhyun scans the surrounding area, lips pursed as he thinks. “Oh! What about that?”

Your eyes follow where he’s pointing to see a large aquarium. You nod. “That looks cool, let’s do it.”

It turns out to be a combination of an insectarium and an aquarium. 

It also turns out that Baekhyun is terrified of insects.

“I literally cannot get any closer,” he says, holding his arms to his chest in defense. He stands several steps away from the exhibit, mouth drawn in a frown.

You’re just inches away from the glass, looking at the giant spiders crawling around in the tank. “But this one’s so cool! I think he’s waving at me.”

Baekhyun fake gags. “He wants to eat you.”

“Look, I think he’s waving at you too.”

A shudder passes through his body. “Please, can we move on?”

You hurry through the rest of the insect exhibit, only stopping to look at the bugs that genuinely interest you. Baekhyun’s nice enough to keep the commentary to a minimum, although he makes no progress in getting even closer to the glass. When you transition into the aquarium section of the building, he breathes out an audible sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he gasps. “I thought I was gonna faint.”

The aquarium is quieter. Peaceful. You float through each of the exhibits at a relaxed pace now that Baekhyun’s no longer squeamish. You pass through the themed halls, stopping at each tank to give each fish an equal amount of attention. He starts out taking pictures of all the ones that he finds pretty, or interesting, or scary, but soon his hand stops reaching into his pocket for his phone. He merely… looks. 

He has a slight smile on his face as he walks, sharp eyes darting around faster than you can comprehend, drinking in everything in front of him greedily. He coos, and ahhs, and points out his favorites to you, but for the most part he just… exists.

For the first time since you’ve known him, the gears in his head have finally stopped.

The two of you pass through a large tunnel, surrounded by water on all sides. You take a minute to rest your aching feet at a bench, sitting side by side and staring up at the sharks and fish passing overhead.

“This was so great,” Baekhyun murmurs. You turn to look at him, the lights and shadows from the water casting his face in cool shades of shimmering blue. “I feel… like I finally got some peace.”

“I’m glad.” You jostle his shoulder with yours. “Promise me you’ll do stuff like this from time to time?”

He smiles, the corners of his pink lips curving upwards. It’s a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I will. It’s more fun with you, though.”

Your gaze drifts down towards his lips and you feel a pull towards him deep in your chest. Part of you wants nothing more than to kiss him right here. Another part of you hesitates. Just as Baekhyun doesn’t know who he is outside of work, what are the two of you together? What are you outside of the conference, the hotel room? What will you be as soon as you walk out of these doors? As soon as you board your plane?

For someone whose entire job is to help explain the unknown, the unknown feels fucking petrifying right now.

“I think we should go pick up our bags now,” Baekhyun whispers. His gaze is broken wide open, vulnerable and scared. He feels it too. You’re sure of it.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse. Neither of you moves until a small child barrels through the tunnel, hollering at his parents, and just like that, the spell is broken.

Baekhyun laughs, your favorite, crinkly-eyed laugh of his. “Let’s head back,” he says at a normal volume.

You nod and stand, leaving this place behind together.

The ride to the airport is quiet. It’s funny. Even though quiet hasn’t been a stranger in the last twelve hours, this twenty minutes of silence feels heavy. But every time you look over at him, the words die in your throat. The further away you get from the city, you can’t help but worry that this was a one-time thing. You won’t see him until next year. Would things stay like this? Do you even want them to?

“I’m a bit late so we need to hurry through security,” you say when you get dropped off. You’re already taking off in the right direction, Baekhyun hurrying close behind you.

“Doesn’t your flight board in like… an hour?” he asks.

“Yes?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re a ‘two hours early at the airport’ person.”

“You never know what could happen!” you sputter. “There could be a backup at security.”

“You have to buy me a coffee if security takes less than ten minutes.”

“Fine,” you say. “But you have to buy me one if it’s more.”

Fifteen minutes later you’re sipping your coffee victoriously. 

“This is stupid,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his own latte. He lightly kicks your ankle under the table, maybe by accident but probably not. “You’re still stuck waiting here for 45 minutes.”

“I like the airport,” you say simply.

“You like the airport?” he asks incredulously. He shakes his head, laughing into his cup. “You’re so weird.”

You giggle, then a thought occurs to you suddenly. “I never even asked you when your flight was.”

He shrugs, chugging the rest of his coffee. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “It means don’t worry about it.”

Behind him, you see that there’s a screen with the list of all the upcoming flights for the day. You take off for it, leaving him behind.

“Hey wait—”

“Too slow!” you call back. You scan the list for his hometown airport. Then lower. Then lower.

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” he says glumly, catching up to you.

“Baekhyun, your flight isn’t for another eight hours.”

He smiles sheepishly. “I need to catch up on grading anyways.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“It’s not your fault. I never told you any different and I said I’d come with you from the start so why wouldn’t you assume that my flight would be soon?” 

“But still. You could be doing literally anything else right now.”

He shrugs, suddenly turning pink. “I just thought… I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could. Y’know, since it’ll be a while before next time.”

You fall silent then, the weight of the situation settling onto your shoulders. Suddenly the next forty minutes seem incredibly important.

“I’ll make it up to you. We can do whatever you want until I have to board.”

Whatever he wants turns out to be heading to the nearest convenience store and raiding it for snacks. You lament at the egregious price of the peanuts and he sneaks it into his basket when you’re not looking, slipping it into your hands as you walk out. 

You walk towards your gate together, swapping handfuls of each other’s snacks, talking about anything and everything as the minutes slip by. He’s invited to one of his students’ weddings in the fall, and you’re planning a weekend-long hike in the mountains. He thinks matcha is gross and you vehemently disagree.

It’s so unfair, you think, looking at his face, trying to commit all the details to memory. Just as soon as you've started to like him, really like him, you have to leave him. 

The intercom buzzes to life and they announce that your boarding group has finally been called up. “This is me,” you say quietly.

Baekhyun nods, smiling softly, sadly. “Are we close enough for a hug now?” he asks.

You have half a mind to say something snarky, some wisecrack about all the salacious things he’s done to you in the last 48 hours but he can’t hug you in public, but all you can manage is a small nod. He wraps you in his arms, the fabric of his hoodie soft against your skin. You breathe in deeply, as if doing so will make the memory of his scent stick longer. 

“Bye,” you whisper.

“It’s not goodbye. I’ll see you next year.”

You don’t know why, but you feel the sting of tears prickling behind your eyelids. He releases you halfway to look at you, and with a start, you realize that his eyes are similarly misty.

“Are you crying?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “You’re crying too.”

He lets go of you, and with a heavy heart, you turn towards the gate.

“Wait.”

A firm hand wraps around your wrist, holding you in place. You whirl around to meet his expression, a whirlwind of frenetic emotions on his face.

“Baekhyun, I need to catch my flight,” you whisper, your voice stuck in your throat.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But please just listen to me.” His eyes are frantic, desperately combing over your face. “This sounds crazy but I think I might be falling for you.”

“What? Baekhyun, I—”

“It might be way, way too soon to say this, but after this week I just feel like something is different between us.”

“So what are you saying? You’re in love with me?” you snort.

He huffs, frustrated. “I’m serious,” he says firmly. “I think there’s something special between us, you and I. I think maybe there always has been, and we’ve been too— I’ve been too egotistic to see it. But you’re miles ahead of the smartest person here, and you’re funny, and you’re magnetic, and you’re so beautiful, God, you’re so beautiful.”

“We live on opposite sides of the country, Baekhyun,” you say, the logical part of your brain fighting for attention, ringing every alarm bell you have. “This would never work.”

He licks his lips. “I’ve been wanting to leave my institution for a while and I’ve been interviewing. I got an offer at a university near yours. It’s an associate professor position.”

“What?”

“I haven’t told anyone. I almost passed on it because I thought that being close to you would be difficult. But fuck… the thought of going home right now and not seeing you for another year is just too much to fucking bear.”

Your head is spinning, reeling from the sudden declaration. You don’t know what to think. On the one hand, this week hasn’t been anything short of life changing. You think back to the aquarium, of the patterns of light as they dance along his face, and how the only thing you wanted in that moment was to kiss him right there. You think of the night you spent together, how you don’t think you’ve ever felt so connected to anyone before. You think of how relieved you felt to spend your birthday with someone else for a change. 

But on the other hand, the decade of hurt is almost too much to bear.

“We only just started being able to stand each other this week,” you say. “I don’t— I don’t know you, Baekhyun.”

“You do know me.” He puts his hands on both sides of your face, looking deeply into your eyes. “You know the worst parts of me. I’m a workaholic, I’m too impulsive, I have a massive ego. You’ve seen me be jealous and narcissistic and ambitious to a fault. But I hope this week you got to see the other sides of me too. The sides that I want to share more of with you.”

The way he remembers your dietary preferences years after you’ve mentioned them. The way his hair is a mess in the mornings. The way his eyes crinkle around the edges when he laughs, really laughs. The mole on the side of his lip, on his thumb, in the shell of his ear. 

You’ve spent almost a decade trying to be one step ahead of Baekhyun that you never even considered what it would be like to walk alongside him. 

“This is a lot to take in,” you say.

“Okay, yeah.” He nods. “I’m not asking you to make any big decisions now. But just… consider it? I can visit you when the semester’s over and we can spend some time together without any of this bullshit. Just us. We’ll see how we are together when there’s no work involved.”

You take in a breath. “Okay. We can do a trial run.”

Baekhyun beams, a beautiful smile reaching from cheek to cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But don’t think that this means I’m gonna stop being competitive with you.”

“God, I hope not.”

He sweeps you into a kiss, one hand cupping your chin and the other resting on your back. In that moment, you forget about it all: the conference, the competition, your feelings and how they’ve changed so quickly. All that matters is the softness of his touch, of his lips against yours.

“I have to board now,” you whisper against his lips. 

“I know,” he says. He kisses you again.

“Baek.”

“Say my name like that again,” he murmurs. 

“You’re so insufferable.” You pull away from him and shrug your backpack over your shoulders, trying to feign annoyance, even though the crimson dust on your cheeks give you away. 

Baekhyun smiles softly at you, taking in one last look at your image before you leave. His eyes go soft, tender in the ways that you’re only now just getting used to. You hope that there will be many more times you see that expression.

“You like it,” he says cheekily. 

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Everything’s already been said. 

You turn toward your gate and jog to make it before they close boarding. You only look back once. He’s still there, watching you go, lifting a hand to wave goodbye.

You wave back. 

He smiles. 

You smile.

Bye, he mouths, winking.

Bye, you mouth back.

You turn your back to him and board the plane, an indescribable light feeling in your chest. It feels good. It feels right.

References

This day can’t get any worse. 

It’s the third time you’ve circled around the airport. You have a massive headache starting behind your temples, and if you get honked at one more time it might just be your fucking breaking point. You park firmly into a waiting space and put your hazards on, letting your head sink into your hands.

You’re only there for thirty seconds when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. You groan into your palm before rolling your window down a fraction.

“Ma’am, if your passenger isn’t here you need to circle around,” the airport employee says. 

“Please,” you beg. “I swear he’s coming, just please let me wait for one more minute—”

“I’m here!” Baekhyun’s voice cuts above all the noise. Your back door is yanked open, carry on suitcase and backpack haphazardly thrown into the seats. “I’m here,” he says again. The employee nods and moves along. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Baekhyun pants, climbing into your passenger seat. His glasses are hanging on by a thread, his hair disheveled and messy. It’s gotten longer even though it’s only been a couple of months, curling around the nape of his neck. “They closed down like half the terminal so I had to take these insane detours and everything was just so chaotic—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in. You’re smiling, grinning like crazy. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says breathlessly, a smile of his own spreading across his face. “I made it.”

You don’t let him get another word in. You reach across and take his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. His lips are so soft and he smells so good and he’s finally here. He smiles against your mouth, giggling like a lovesick teenager. 

“What happened to the trial run?” he asks. 

“This is still a trial run,” you say in between kisses. “You have to really impress me this week, Byun. Then we’ll decide if you get tenure or not.”

Someone behind you honks, but you pay them no mind. All that matters is what’s in front of you, the man in your arms, and the endless, countless days ahead.

Appendix (aka where mai overexplains a bunch of things for anyone interested. the fic is over now, so feel free to stop reading, i'm just nerding out)

Revise and resubmit refers to the decision that journals make when reading submissions in which authors have a set amount of time to address some concerns, and then it goes back in for consideration. It's not a guaranteed publication if all the issues are addressed, it's more like a "maybe." It's very rare that submissions don't go through at least one round of r&r before acceptance

Baekhyun and reader are both meant to be about 4-5 years into their careers as assistant professors. Reader is about to be up for tenure, which means she will get a huge pay bump and job security basically for life. Sometimes you can move to another university and immediately secure tenure, but that's contingent on you doing well at your prior university (publishing a lot, getting good student evals, etc.) This is the position Baekhyun's in by the end of the fic.

h-index refers to a metric based on how often a person's publications are referenced. A higher h-index means that your work is referenced often, and is generally a marker for prestige and respect

Work-Home Resources Theory and Conservation of Resources theory are both valid theories. WHR was actually developed with COR in mind. Reader is wrong in her critique.

Mediation statistically explains why X -> Y. Full mediation means that the relationship between X -> Y is fully explained by M (X -> M -> Y), while partial mediation means that M explains some of the relationship, but there's something else also at work ex., social media use -> reduced self esteem -> depression vs. social media use -> reduced self-esteem + poor quality of sleep -> depression. Partial mediation is a valid finding. Baekhyun is wrong in his critique.

Originally the outdated concept Baekhyun references is named (LMX) but I took it out because this section was getting too nerdy even for me and I decided to keep it vague. The idea of LMX being outdated is very controversial. It's still being used constantly to this day.

Baekhyun having seven students at a time is basically unheard of (in my field). I know of a prof who has five students at a time and they are all pretty miserable or neglected. Baekhyun is superhuman.

I was sort of vauge about their specific field on purpose but at the risk of doxxing myself (as I wrote this from experience so their field is the same as mine) i'll just say that it's a social science (although i fear it's pretty obvious)

Nature is a very very prestigious interdisciplinary journal. To my knowledge it's hard for people in my field to publish in it, so this is a massive deal for Baekhyun.

Stella and Kevin are OCs but their namesakes are meant to be Stella from h2h and Kevin from the boyz

The structure of this fic was stolen from my favorite academia-esque au ever (baekhyun and kyungsoo: a scoping review) even though it doesn't really make sense in my case and is mostly for aesthetics

whew thanks for coming on this journey if you read this far. if you're new here i don't usually yap this much but this was very personal and fun for me to write. love ya for sticking around <3