Pairing: Reader x Chanyeol
Genre: Angst (not a happy ending, just letting y’all know)
Warning: Mentions of; suicide and abuse (If these are sensitive topics, read at your own risk)
Word Count: 2,872
not my gif
She had this certain sadness to her.
A certain sadness that persisted even with the biggest smile she would show you, with the loudest laugh she could muster.
Did he regret meeting her? Caring for her? Loving her?
Even though it hurt with every breath he took, when he saw someone that reminded him of her, a loud laugh in the quiet library, he loved his memories with her as much as he hated them.
Holding the bottle of sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed him, he contemplated taking them all like her to join her in the afterlife.
He remembers the first time she had caught his eye, the memory so clear in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.
As cliché as it sounds, it started out as any other day.
Classes at the same high school he went to every day, Chanyeol and his friends made themselves comfortable at their usual lunch table in the middle of the cafeteria, food over piled on their trays to the point of spilling and was set on the table with extreme care.
Their table was by far the loudest, eyes always on their group, some expressions they were given were of annoyance but some were of admiration, mostly from the female population.
He knew their group got a lot of attention but it wasn’t like it mattered much. Sure, Jongdae and Minseok and Sehun totally took advantage of it but Chanyeol didn’t really pay much attention to the stares he got on a daily basis.
Kyungsoo was threatening Kai like usual when his eyes caught on a figure he had seen before somewhere. You were leaning against a pillar in the middle of the cafeteria, right next to a table, earbuds in and your gaze was fixed on him.
Chanyeol narrowed his eyes in confusion. What is she doing? Did she want to say something to him?
He looked at your worn down white converse, tight light blue jeans and a plain maroon shirt that was loose but somehow still showed off your slender and curvy figure. When he set his eyes on your face and studied it for a while he recognized you from a few of his classes.
He knew your name was Y/N, and that you were really smart with a bluntness in the way you talked to the people around you with that slightly deeper and huskier voice than he would have expected, dark eyes observing your surroundings ceaselessly.
Your dark hair cut off right before it hit your fragile looking shoulders, the waves prominent with every move you made. It was really pretty, he admitted, and when you would tuck the strands behind your ear on the left side he thought you looked elegant.
Not that he was constantly looking at you or something, no, in fact he has never spoken to you once. Not because you were shy, but because it seemed to him that you liked to be alone, the way you would laugh along with the jokes but kept the blank expression when someone tried talking to you.
You had that same expression on when he caught you looking at him in the cafeteria, the only difference being the slight furrow in your full brows and the slight pout in your full lips.
Your dark eyes felt like they were looking him deep in the soul, but you had a faraway look in your eyes so he didn’t know what to think of it. Why does she keep staring over here like that?
A painful slap on his exposed arm made him exclaim in surprise and he tore his gaze from you to Baekhyun who had on his signature rectangle smile as he giggled childishly. Chanyeol mocked him and glanced your way again to find you gone.
Something in your expression haunted him that night.
He remembers when he had first spoken to you.
It was the day of the new quarter and Mr. Song had changed the seating arrangements and as
twisted fate would have it, he found himself sliding into the seat right beside you, slightly nervous (for what reason, he didn’t know).
The teacher had given you the last ten minutes to get to know the person beside you and while the classroom buzzed with conversations and laughter it was completely silent between the two of you.
“Um… it’s Y/N, right?” He awkwardly tried to strike up a conversation, eagerly turning towards you, a wide smile on his face.
Instead of answering you took your time to study his face, eyes darting all over his face, making him feel a little embarrassed. Then a soft smile that stunned him for a moment came onto your wide lips, the smile never reaching your eyes. You nodded gently at his question, answering him non verbally. “Chanyeol, right?”
He was nodding even before you finished speaking. He found that he really liked his name on your lips. He kept up the majority of the conversation, his voice probably too loud but he didn’t really care. He laughed harder when you joined in, your humor-he found out-was like his, the interjections you would make him kept him on his toes and entertained.
How did I not notice her sooner? He thought to himself, watching you with an unconscious doopy little smile on his face.
Even back then he knew there was something unusual about you.
He remembers how hard you studied.
You turned your body towards him so suddenly he didn’t have much time to react as you grabbed his pencil that he was holding in between his fingers in your hands and bent the pencil until it broke in half and threw it back at him, an adorable annoyed expression on your face, your bottom lip jutted out in a pout.
He cleared his throat and quietly turned his body back to his side of the table and got out another pencil. He glanced your way and saw you had tucked in the strands of hair behind your ear to keep it from falling in your eyes as you read the instructed passages.
He got ready to mess with you once again but your quiet whisper had him scrambling to open his own book.
“Touch me and I will kill you.”
The playful smile that you gave him actually did kill him.
He remembers the way you laughed.
Sometimes it was a chuckle, your smile wide and your eyes downcast.
Sometimes it was really loud, not caring at all who was around and who could overhear, your mouth wide open, head thrown back and eyes shut.
That was his favorite.
Sometimes it was a snort, when the joke was really funny and you were trying to be quiet but the moment you snorted, all hell would break loose and you would be complaining of your sides hurting when it was done.
Sometimes it was a cackle, which you would hate when Chanyeol mocked you.
You never really laughed much at all.
He remembers the first time you both got drunk together.
You had asked about his parents and confused he reminded you that they were on vacation visiting friends out of town and later that night you showed up with a huge bottle of vodka and some shot glasses in an overnight bag.
“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” He asked you as you got everything ready on his kitchen counter, searching for beverages in his stocked fridge.
“Oh, come on, Chan. You said your parents are gone, right? What’s the big deal, it’s not like you’ve never drank before.” You replied, pulling out the 2 liter of soda out of the fridge.
You were smiling but the look in your eyes made him pause and really observe you. They were slightly glossy and if he paid close enough attention he saw that your hands were shaking slightly.
He knew better than to push you to talk, but looking back on it he realizes that he should have pushed.
So with a sigh he agreed and poured the shots.
Ten shots later you were singing your heart out to sad songs, screaming into the remote of his TV while he tried dozing off on the leather couch.
The sniffling caught his attention and he opened his tired eyes and turned his gaze to you and caught you sweeping your fingers under your eyes and continued on with the song as if nothing had happened.
He found himself caring after you until you passed out in his bed.
He remembers the first time you two kissed.
It was a normal Sunday night, you and him were nestled into his huge couch and was watching a comedy movie, probably too close to each other for being just friends.
For him, you two haven’t been just friends for some time now, whenever you were around he grew flustered by your beauty that you couldn’t seem to see, his feelings for you bubbling up to the surface but he was fearful it would ruin your friendship so he never said anything but at this moment, all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around you and lay your head on his chest.
Feeling your eyes on him he turned his head from the TV and looked at you, your expression making his heart stop for a few moments before starting back up. A smile that finally met your eyes adorned your lips and your eyes looked his in the soul and all of a sudden you leaned forward and placed your lips on his.
They were as soft and as warm as he’d imagined. He moved his lips against yours immediately, the movie entirely forgotten. One hand found its way around your waist and your hands found themselves in his hair.
You pulled away before it could get too heated, both panting slightly and his heart felt like it was going to come right out of his chest.
“See you tomorrow,” you said with a cheeky grin and another peck on his cheek you grabbed your stuff and left his house in a rush, leaving him looking back at you like a little lovesick puppy.
He remembers the first time he saw you cry.
Loud hiccups escaped your parted lips as you tried to muffle the loud sobs that were threatening to come out without permission. Your eyes were squeezed shut as the tears streamed down your cheeks
His legs couldn’t take him to you fast enough and he pulled you to him, one hand encircling your shaking shoulders, the other gripping the back of your head and held it close to his chest.
Your loud sobs were muffled by his shirt, the tears that fell from your eyes felt like bullets on his skin, his heart hurting with the pain of not knowing how to help, the only thing he could do was to hold you.
Your arms gripped him so tight and he did the same in return, letting you feel that he was there with you, that he was there for you, he held you tighter as his own tears came out.
When your legs gave out he knelt on the floor with you, never letting you go for even one second.
He just wished that he was there every single time you cried.
He remembers when he first saw the bruises.
He thought that it was weird how you were wearing such a thick cardigan when the weather was beginning to warm up, but knew how cold you got so he shrugged it off.
Setting your textbook in front of you, you turned to the correct page and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear back when your sleeve lifted and he saw it.
Bruises in the shape of fingers along your delicate wrist.
His hand acted on its own and grabbed your arm before you could put it back down. He made sure he was quiet enough to not be overheard by the other students in the classroom.
“What is this?” He kept his eyes on the dark purple marks on the girl he loved in disgust, waiting for an explanation.
Your expression was new. Eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. You was scared. You pulled her arm out of his gentle grasp and placed it in your lap, away from his line of vision.
“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, turning your attention back to your schoolwork but he could still see how stiff you were.
“This is not nothing, Y/N, what happened?” He tried again in a gentler tone, not even trying to pretend like he was doing his work now, all of his attention was on you.
He froze when your tear filled eyes looked at him, face desperate. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”
It was then that he realized that all the other bruises weren’t just “accidents” as you had otherwise told him.
He remembers your confession.
“I’m depressed.” You said to him one night over a phone call.
“What?” He laughed, thinking you were maybe overreacting to something like you usually did.
A sigh was his response. “I’m serious.” That was when he sobered up.
You proceeded to tell him your whole story, how your mother left you with your father for another man when you were eight.
How it felt like your father hated you for looking so much like her when she left him, how he abused her mentally and physically when she younger.
She could leave if she wanted, but you were all he had and even though your father had put you through so much, you still loved him as much as you hated him, same goes with your mother, who you haven’t seen since she left the house.
His comforts fell on deaf ears.
He remembers the first time you
You didn’t want to go home.
Who was he to refuse?
His parents were conveniently out again that night so he brought you to his room, with no bad intentions of course, but when you snuggled up to him and started to kiss his neck, running your hands over the skin of his stomach and played with his hair (you knew how much he loved when you did that) and begged him to make love to you, he was over the moon.
He took his time, committing every part of your bare body in his memory and made sure his lips ran over all the skin he could reach, the emotions in his heart making the experience so much more powerful to him than any other hookup he’d ever had.
After, he held you in his arms, running his fingers over your bare back and occasionally playing with the strands of your hair (he loved your hair so much for some reason) and planting kisses on your forehead he held you tighter to his body and wished that every night could be like this one.
He remembers the first and last time you said “I love you.”
Putting on the watch that you had surprised him with he looked at it with joy and leaned towards you and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips.
You had been down for quite some time and he was getting worried but here you were back to normal and he couldn’t be happier.
“What’s the occasion?” He asked, referring to the watch he mentioned he wanted.
You shrugged, your eyes never leaving his form for even a second, a small, even sad smile on your lips. “I just wanted to give the man I love what he wants.”
He froze. It was the first time you had said the word love to him and was actually talking about him.
“I love you, Chanyeol.” His eyes were on you, your eyes glossy with tears and a wide smile on your face.
It was a moment he’d remember until the day he died.
The day you died, he died on the inside.
At the funeral, they had her smiling face blown up on a big photo card for all to see. He didn’t think it was fair to have that picture up there. Not of her smiling. Like how she smiled at him the last night he saw her.
The speeches made were generic speeches.
“I will gravely miss Y/N, she was a great and loving student of mine…”
“Y/N was the greatest friend anyone could ask for…”
“The world has lost such a wonderful soul…”
He thought he could make it til the end of his speech to break down.
But the moment he opened his mouth, all that came out were sobs that he couldn’t control.
It didn’t help that right in front of him was your mother, who looked so much like you. He liked to think that you would’ve looked like that if you had given yourself the chance to grow old.
He told himself to stop imagining the future with you, you were already gone.
To just relive the memories he did have with you and
So this is probably trash idk
I’ve always wanted to try out angst and this was probably confusing as hell but I would love feedback~!!! Thank you!