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The hum of the refrigerator was the loudest sound in the apartment, which was a problem, because Chanyeol’s brain was currently operating at the volume of a jet engine.
He was sitting cross legged on the hardwood floor of his living room, illuminated only by the aggressive blue glow of his phone. He looked at the time, only to realize it was already 3 AM.
In front of him sat a half-eaten container of cold takeout noodles, an empty soda can, and a profound sense of desperation.
Two weeks. It had been exactly fourteen days, exactly 336 hours, exactly 20160 minutes—yeah, he did keep count—since Baekhyun had stood in this exact room, crossed his arms, and said, “Chanyeol, we’re running in circles and I’m dizzy. I need space, like real space.”
And Chanyeol, being a giant who communicated entirely through physical affection and loud reactions, had completely choked. He’d just nodded like a broken bobblehead. He’d let Baekhyun pack a single duffel bag and walk out the door.
But tonight, the silence had gotten too heavy. The bed felt less like a bed and more like a vast, empty tundra. Chanyeol had cracked, he couldn’t text Baekhyun’s actual number because the latter has made it very clear that any late night “u up?” texts would result in immediate blocking and potentially a curse placed upon Chanyeol’s ancestral lineage.
So, Chanyeol had done the only logical, rational thing a grown man could do.
He had created a fake Instagram account.
The username was @aloeyvera and the profile picture, chosen in a blind panic, was a blurry, poorly lit photo of a dying fiddle leaf fig tree in the corner of his kitchen. It was meant to be a ghost account, a silent, invisible window just to check if Baekhyun was eating well, or if he was listening to sad songs, or if he was already moving on.
But then, ten minutes ago, Baekhyun had posted a song to his Instagram story. It was an obscure indie track they used to blast in the car during road trips, the one where Chanyeol would always drum on the steering wheel while Baekhyun harmonized until his throat hurt.
Baekhyun’s caption read “the bridge hits different when you’re the only one listening, nobody gets the chord progression like I do anyway.”
It was a trap, it was bait, and Chanyeol, with the impulse control of a golden retriever chasing a tennis ball off a cliff, had dove straight in.
Before his brain could register the sheer, catastrophic danger of his actions, his thumbs were flying across the screen. He didn’t want to sound like himself. He used way too many emojis, typed in all caps, and forgot punctuation and grammar all together.
To protect his identity, he needed to sound sophisticated, he thought, intellectual and completely detached.
So, he typed.
“The modulation into F sharp minor during the bridge is mathematically designed to evoke melancholia. It is a superior auditory experience. Your assessment is accurate, fellow music enthusiast.”
And he hit send.
The second the message dissolved into the void of Baekhyun’s DMs, Chanyeol dropped his phone onto the floor like it burned his hands. He threw himself backward onto the rug, staring up at the ceiling, clutching his chest.
“What are you doing,” he groaned out loud, smacking his own forehead repeatedly. “Fellow music enthusiast? Who talks like that? You sound like a serial killer trying to use a smartphone.”
He rolled over, dragging his hands down his face, fully prepared to delete the entire account and throw his phone into the Han River.
Ding.
The soft, sharp chime of a DM notification cut through the dark apartment.
Chanyeol froze and slowly crawled across the floor on his stomach and peered at the screen.
100_hyun: … are u a bot? or are u a cop? Bc legally u have to tell me if u are a cop.
Chanyeol’s breath hitched and his heart did a violent, erratic tap dance against his ribs. Baekhyun was awake and was replying to a stranger with a houseplant for a face.
Sweat began to bead at the nape of Chanyeol’s neck. He hovered his thumbs over the keyboard, his mind a complete chaotic blank. He couldn’t back out now, the line was cast and the hook was set. Chanyeol was officially about to catfish the love of his life.
Chanyeol’s brain completely short circuited, staring really hard at the screen.
A cop? Why on earth would Baekhyun think he was a cop though? Was it the word “melancholia”? it definitely was. Normal citizens didn’t just throw that word around at 3 AM.
Panic, thick and dizzying, flooded his chest. He couldn’t let Baekhyun think he was an automated spam bot, but he also couldn’t drop the intellectual façade he’d already established. He needed to double down, he needed to sound like a normal, hip, totally-not-an-ex-boyfriend millennial who just happened to appreciate botany and obscure music theory.
With trembling fingers, he began to type, his oversized thumbs accidentally hitting three keys at once. He kept backspacing, his heart hammering against his chest,
aloeyvera: I assure you I am not a law enforcement, nor am I an artificial intelligence. I am merely a humble purveyor of green life forms and exquisite soundscapes. Swag.
Chanyeol hit send and immediately buried his face in the carpet, letting out a muffled scream of pure agony.
Swag? Why did he type that? Who under the age of forty said swag in the big 2026? He was ruining this; he was absolutely butchering the art of deception.
Before he could spiral into the deep depression, his phone buzzed again.
100_hyun: LMAO,, swag? Okay definitely not a cop, a cop would have better vocabulary
100_hyun: also, whats up with ur profile pic? Is that a dead tree? Are u keeping a corpse in ur kitchen?
Chanyeol rolled over onto his back, holding his phone over his face. He glanced over at the actual fiddle leaf fig sitting in the corner of his dark kitchen. It wasn’t dead, it was just… going through a transitional phase. It only had three leaves left, okay?
aloeyvera: It is a fiddle leaf fig. It is currently resting. It is an aesthetic choice that represents the fleeting nature of existence.
100_hyun: suuuure, it looks like a stick covered in sadness
100_hyun: anyway, loey, can i call u that?, how do u know that song? i though literally five ppl on the planet had heard it and one of em is my annoying ex who used to scream sing it in the shower
Chanyeol choked on his own saliva, coughing violently and sitting up so fast his vision swam.
Scream sing? He didn’t scream sing! He knew how to rap and was a highly capable vocalist! He had perfect pitch, excuse you. Well, near perfect pitch when he wasn’t shampooing his hair, but that was beside the point.
The dangerous part was how close to home this was hitting. He was standing on a digital landmine. One wrong word, one familiar piece of slang, and Baekhyun would piece it together. He needed to distance himself from the annoying ex persona immediately. He needed to be the anti-Chanyeol.
aloeyvera: Your ex-partner sounds like a man of chaotic energy. I prefer a quiet atmosphere. I am a man of peace. I spend my days misting my ferns and listening to classical vinyl. I rarely raise my voice.
100_hyun: god, that sound nice, my ex was like living with a golden retriever that learned how to open doors and play the drums, just constant noise
Chanyeol’s jaw dropped. A golden retriever? He was being slandered in his own DMs by no other than the love of his life, and he legally couldn’t defend his honor without revealing that he was currently stalking him from a fake account about houseplants.
He ripped the edges of his phone, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to type I AM NOT A GOLDEN RETRIEVER I HAVE A VERY MATURE OUTLOOK ON LIFEEE!!!.
Instead, he took a deep, shuddering breath, channeled his inner, fictitious, sophisticated plant dad and typed back.
aloeyvera: A tragic state of affairs. You deserve tranquility. Tell me, fellow human, what else did this canine-like man do to disrupt your peace?
Chanyeol held his breath, if he was going to be trapped in this ridiculous, chaotic lie, he might as well use it to find out exactly why he got dumped in the first place.
He stared at the screen, his entire body rigid as he waited for the verdict. He was essentially asking his ex to write a detailed review of his failures as a boyfriend, and he was doing it while pretending to be a botanical enthusiast named Loey. The sheer absurdity of the situation was starting to warp his reality.
The three little typing dots appeared, they danced torturously for a full minute, vanished and then popped back up. Chanyeol’s sweat glands were working overtime.
Finally, the screen lit up with a wall of text.
100_hyun: ugh, where do i even start? the man had no concept of inside voices u know, he’d wake up at 7 am on a saturday completely energized and start assembling ikea furniture with his bare hands who does that?
100_hyun: and don’t get me started on the kitchen he cooks like hes trying to fight the ingredients there was tomato sauce on the ceiling once loey. like thE CEILING I still dunno how he managed that angle
Chanyeol’s mouth fell open. He looked up at the ceiling above his dining table. There was, in fact, a faint, faded orange smudge near the light fixture from a disastrous attempt at a homemade marinara three months ago. He had told Baekhyun it was a shadow! Baekhyun had known the whole time!
A surge of defensive adrenaline shot through his veins. He couldn’t just sit there and let his cooking skills be slandered. He had to defend himself, but under the tight constraints of the Loey protocol.
aloeyvera: Perhaps the gentleman was merely passionate about culinary arts. Gravity can be unpredictable when one is creating art with tomatoes.
aloeyvera: And IKEA assembly requires a robust physical constitution. It sounds like he was merely trying to provide sturdy infrastructure for your shared domicile.
There, sophisticated, objective and totally un-Chanyeol like.
He waited but the response was almost instantaneous.
100_hyun: are u defending him? lmao loey are u a giant who sucks at cooking too? is that why ure taking his side?
Chanyeol bit his lower lip so hard he tasted iron. A giant who sucks at cooking. It was like Baekhyun had a sniper rifle aimed directly at his soul.
aloeyvera: I am of average height. Exactly 175 centimeters. A very standard, unremarkable human height. And my culinary skills are precise, like a chemist in a laboratory.
Chanyeol nodded to himself, proud of the lie. One hundred and seventy-five centimeters. Just perfect, it was a safe, non-threatening, completely un-giant height. He was practically invisible.
100_hyun: oooh thank god, if i have to look up at one more man my neck is going to permanently snap, my ex was so tall i literally had to stand on the couch just to argue with him face to face it completely ruined my intimidation factor
100_hyun: anyway u sound kinda weird but in a funny way, what are u even doing awake rn? misting ur sad stick tree?
Chanyeol let out a breathless, wheezing laugh that sounded a bit like a deflating balloon. He looked down at his sweatpants, the ones with the cartoon puppies printed all over them that Baekhyun had bought him as a joke last Christmas.
He couldn’t tell him he was awake because he was wearing sad puppy pants, eating cold noodles, and crying over a shared Spotify playlist.
aloeyvera: I am currently engaged in a deep philosophical meditation regarding the chlorophyll levels of my flora. Sleep is for the uninspired.
100_hyun: right, well mr. uninspired over here is exhausted from thinking about his annoying ex, thx for the laugh plant guy, dont let ur stick die
100_hyun: goonight loey
And with that, the little green active dot next to Baekhyun’s username instantly turned gray, he was gone.
Chanyeol slowly lowered his phone into his chest, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling. The silence of the apartment rushed back in, but it felt different now, almost terrifying.
He had done it, he had survived the first interaction, but as he looked over at the kitchen corner, making direct eye contact with the pathetic, three-leafed fiddle leaf fig tree, a cold dread began to pool in his stomach.
Baekhyun liked Loey. Baekhyun thought Loey was funny.
“Oh no,” Chanyeol whispered into the dark, his eyes widening in horror as the realization fully set in. “I have to keep buying plants, don’t I?”
The local plant nursery was entirely too bright, entirely too humid and smelled aggressively of damp dirt and impending bad decisions.
Chanyeol stood in the middle of aisle four, looking utterly lost between a massive row of ferns and a display of miniature cacti. He was wearing a bucket hat pulled down low over his eyes and a pair of oversized sunglasses, despite being entirely indoors. He looked less like a casual plant enthusiast and more like a high-profile criminal trying to smuggle contraband flora across state lines.
“Sir? Are you finding everything okay?”
Chanyeol jumped a foot into the air, his long limbs flailing slightly before he managed to look down at the tiny, polite nursery employee standing beside him.
“Yes!” he boomed, his deep voice rattling a nearby shelf of terracotta pots. He quickly cleared his throat, dropping his pitch to what he hoped was a casual, unsuspecting level. “I mean, yes. I’m looking for a plant that is… resilient. Something that communicates a deep, intellectual connection to earth, but also it can’t die if I look at it wrong.”
The employee blinked up at him, taking in the sunglasses and the sheer, intimidating height of the man in front of her. “Right. Well, Pothos are very easy to care for—”
“Does it look like it belongs to a man named Loey?” Chanyeol interrupted desperately.
“I…what?”
“Never mind, give me three of them,” Chanyeol said, tossing a handful of lush, leafy green hanging baskets into his cart.
By the time he got back to his apartment, his living room looked like a low budget jungle. He had spent an embarrassing amount of money on various ferns, succulents, and a suspicious looking monster plant that he was pretty sure was mocking him. he spent the next two hours meticulously staging them around his apartment, taking approximately forty-five different photos of a single aloe vera plant trying to find the exact angle that screamed I am a sophisticated 175cm man who listen to classical vinyl.
He finally picked the best one—a moody, shadows and leaves shot that hid his giant television and the pile of dirty laundry on his sofa—and opened Instagram.
His heart did that familiar, terrifying tap dance against his ribs as he clicked on @aloeyvera. He uploaded the photo to his story; with the caption “The morning hydration ritual is complete. The children are thriving.”
He refreshed his feed, not once or twice but ten times.
Still nothing.
Chanyeol sighed, tossing his phone onto the couch and slouching down into his kitchen chair. He felt like a total idiot. He was a grown man, a musician, a functioning member of society, and he was currently staging photos of houseplants to get the attention of his ex-boyfriend who thought he was a golden retriever with a hammer.
His phone buzzed on the cushions.
Chanyeol launched himself across the living room, practically diving over the coffee table to grab the device. He swiped the screen open so fast he nearly dropped it onto his own face.
100_hyun: omg wait u actually have real plants lmao thought u were just a bot runnin an acc for a greenhouse or something
aloeyvera: I assure you my existence is entirely organic. These are my companions. They do not talk back or cook poorly.
Chanyeol bit his lip, waiting.
100_hyun: lmao touche, wow look at that big leafy one, whats its name?
aloeyvera: That is a Monstera Deliciosa. Her name is Bartholomea.
Chanyeol winced. Why did his brain keep coming up with old, heavy names? He was supposed to be a cool, standard height millennial.
100_hyun: bartholomea? u are so weird loey, i swear to god but ok, impressive . my apartment is literally a wasteland rn, since chanyeol left the only thing living in here is a bag of potatoes that started sprouting legs in the pantry
Chanyeol’s heart squeezed. Since Chanyeol left. Hearing his own name come out of Baekhyun’s digital mouth in the past tense felt like getting poked with a sharp stick.
aloeyvera: Did the… canine-like ex-partner take all the greenery with him?
100_hyun: no he just used to do all the watering bc i always forgot, he was actually really good with stuff like that he treated thus stupid lil lemon tree we had like it was his own child like he’d talk to it while he made coffee
100_hyun: anyway sorry i keep talking about him u dont wanna hear about my ex’s weird relationship with fruit trees
Chanyeol stared at the screen, a bizarre bittersweet warmth blooming in his chest. Baekhyun remembered the lemon tree. Baekhyun missed the way he talked to the plants.
He leaned his back against the sofa, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. For a split second, he wanted to just type It’s me. I’m here. I’m still watering the plants. But the sheer terror of Baekhyun’s reaction—the absolute, guaranteed fury of finding out he’d been tricked—kept his fingers frozen.
Instead, he channeled the only character he had left.
aloeyvera: It is quite alright. Human processing of emotional departures requires verbal expression. I am a safe repository for your recollections.
100_hyun: a safe repository?? dude do u talk like this in real life? pls tell me u don’t order coffee like a robot
aloeyvera: I order my caffeinated beverage with utmost precision. One iced americano. Extra shot. No syrup.
A long pause followed. The typing dots appeared, vanished, and appeared again.
100_hyun: no bc waitttt
100_hyun: thats exactly what chanyeol orders
He stared at the screen, his entire body breaking out into a cold, prickly sweat. Stupid. Stupid. Of course Baekhyun knew his coffee order. They had stood in line at the café down the street three hundred times, Baekhyun complaining about how bitter Chanyeol’s black coffee was while waiting for his own sweet, dynamic, milk heavy caramel macchiato.
The silence in the apartment suddenly felt suffocating. Chanyeol’s thumbs hovered over the glass, trembling so hard he almost dropped the phone. He had to fix this now. If he didn’t pull a lie out of thin air in the next three seconds, he was dead.
aloeyvera: An iced Americano is the standard fuel of the modern worker. Millions of people consume it. It is merely a statistical probability.
aloeyvera: Also, I prefer it room temperature. Not iced. I accidentally typed iced because my hands are cold from misting the ferns.
He held his breath, closing his eyes. Room temperature black coffee. He sounded like an absolute psychopath. Nobody drank room temperature americanos on purpose.
His phone buzzed, he opened one eye, terrified to look.
100_hyun: ew ok nvm. u definitely aren’t him. chanyeol would rather die than drink lukewarm coffee he practically swallows ice cubes whole
100_hyun: but srsly, room temp? ure a freak loey
Chanyeol let out a massive, shuddering breath, slouching so deep into the couch he was practically sitting on his own neck.
“Thank god,” he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. Ha had survived the landmine, but he was losing his mind. He was actively giving himself a reputation as a lukewarm coffee drinking weirdo just to cover his tracks.
aloeyvera: It preserves the integrity of the bean. You simply lack the refined palate to understand.
100_hyun: whatever u say i guess barista king, anyway im supposed to be looking at rugs online bc my living room feels empty and depressing, but everything looks like a boring gray square, help me pick one?
Chanyeol blinked. Baekhyun was asking him for interior design advice.
This was a trap within a trap. In real life, Chanyeol loved bright colors, big cozy textures, and what Baekhyun called cluttered chaos. If Loey suggested a giant, fuzzy cream-colored rug, Baekhyun would get suspicious again. He had to think like a guy who lived with three leaves on a stick.
Before he could reply, Baekhyun sent three links to different home decor sites.
He clicked the first one. It was a minimalist, flat weave rug in a dull olive green. It looked like a giant piece of cardboard. He absolutely hated it.
The second one was a dark charcoal gray that looked like it belonged in a doctor’s waiting room.
The third one, however made Chanyeol’s eyes lit up. It was a thick, plush, checkerboard pattern in a soft cream and sage green. It looked like a cozy moss pit. It was exactly the king of thing they would have bought together.
He opened the chat, trying to keep his digital voice deadpan.
aloeyvera: The dark one is acceptable. It hides dirt and reflects a serious, solitary mind.
100_hyun: ugghhh rly? it looks like a highway tho
100_hyun: i kinda like the checkerboard one, it looks like idk, looks like something that would be nice to sit on while playing videogames, my ex would probably try to eat pizza on it and drop sauce everywhere but I think it cute
Chanyeol stared at the message, a sudden, sharp ache hitting him right in the chest.
Baekhyun wasn’t just picking a rug. He was picking a rug while thinking about how Chanyeol would ruin it. He was building a life in his new, quiet apartment, but the ghost of Chanyeol’s loud, messy presence was still lingering in the corners of his mind.
He swallowed the lump in hi throat, his thumbs moving a little slower this time.
aloeyvera: Then you should get the checkerboard one. If it brings you comfort, the opinion of a messy ex-partner is irrelevant.
100_hyun: yeah i think i will
100_hyun: thanks loey ure surprisingly good to talk to when u arent sounding like an automated email
Chanyeol looked over at his kitchen. The three new Pothos plants he’s bought earlier were hanging from the curtain rod, their vines trailing down nicely in the dim light. He felt like a total fraud, a liar, and a clown, but as he logged off for the night, he couldn’t stop the small, stupid smile from spreading across his face.
He was getting closer to Baekhyun again. He just had to make sure he didn’t accidentally slip up and reveal that Loey was actually six feet or pure panic sitting in a dark apartment three blocks away.
Three weeks of living a double life had officially turned Chanyeol into a twitching ball of anxiety.
By day, he was Park Chanyeol; a man who stared miserably at his phone, sent his friend sad memes about missing your ex, and accidentally bought three more ferns because walking into the plant nursery gave him a weird hit of dopamine now. By night, he was Loey; the enigmatic, 175-centimiter-tall plant savior who apparently drank room temperature black coffee and possessed the emotional depth of a therapist.
The set up was working a little too well and that was the problem.
100_hyun: loey quick question
aloeyvera: I am listening. Has there been a crisis with Bartholomea’s cousins?
100_hyun: no, the checkeboard rug arrived today, it looks amazing but thats not it
100_hyun: my friend gave me two tickets to that indie festival downtown this weekend, the one with the acoustic stage? and literally everyone in my friend group is busy or out of town
Chanyeol sat up so fast on his couch he nearly bit his tongue. He knew exactly what festival Baekhyun was talking about. He’d seen the flyer online three days ago and had spent an hour crying into a pillow because they’d gone together the previous year and eaten giant hot dogs in the rain.
100_hyun: i know ure a total mystery man and u probably prefer talking to ur moss but… do u want to go? my treat just a casual platonic thanks for not letting me lose my mind this month
Chanyeol’s phone slipped out of his hand, bounced off his knew, and clattered onto the hardwood floor.
“No, no, no,” he muttered, scrambling on all fours to scoop the phone back up. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears.
This was the ultimate crisis. He couldn’t say yes because the second he walked up to the ticket gate, Baekhyun would see six feet and one inch of his absolute nightmare ex-boyfriend standing there holding a single succulent as an apology.
But if he said no, Loey would look like a total jerk, and Baekhyun might stop talking to him entirely.
His thumbs flew across the screen in a flurry of typos before he slammed backspace.
aloeyvera: An intriguing proposition. However, large crowds disrupt my inner equilibrium. The auditory overstimulation can be detrimental to my process.
100_hyun: ohh pls cmon, dont be a coward u can wear your sunglasses and ur bucket hat or whatever u wear, ill even buy u a room temp water please? I really dont wanna go alone
Chanyeol groaned, burying his face in a couch cushion. Please? I really don’t wanna go alone. Baekhyun never begged. If he was asking, it meant he was actually feeling lonely, and the thought of Baekhyun sitting in his apartment on a Saturday night with nothing but a checkerboard rug and a bag of sprouted potatoes was tearing Chanyeol apart.
He had to go, but he couldn’t go as Loey.
And absolutely unhinged, terribly flawed, beautifully chaotic plan began to form in his mind.
aloeyvera: I truly cannot attend. A rare botanical shipment from Madagascar arrives this weekend and requires my immediate supervision.
aloeyvera: However, I have a colleague. A casual acquaintance. He is a bit loud I must warn, and his style choices are questionable, but he is a massive fan of that specific indie lineup. And he is currently quite lonely.
100_hyun: a colleague? like another plant guy? is he weird like u?
aloeyvera: He is less of a plant guy and more of a… golden retriever archetype. You might find this energy familiar. I could pass your contact information to him, if you are amenable.
Chanyeol held his breath, his fingers hovering over the screen. He was literally trying to set himself up on a blind date with his own ex-boyfriend through a fictional plant person. It was peak insanity.
The three dots appeared. Chanyeol bit his lip, his soul hanging in the balance.
100_hyun: wait ur not trying to set me up and trick me into a reunion with my annoying tall ex right?
Chanyeol’s soul left his body. He froze, eyes wide, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. He knows. He figures it out and I’m dead.
Before he could type a frantic, defensive denial, a second message popped up.
100_hyun: nvm, u dont even know my ex im losing it. sure, whatever give him my number but if hes annoying ill just leave him by the porta potties
Chanyeol let out a breath so loud it blew a stray leaf off his coffee table. he collapse back against the cushions, letting out a hysterical, breathless laugh.
He was in, he had a date with Baekhyun on Saturday. Now he just had to figure out how to act like a guy who had accidentally been recommended by a mysterious internet botanist named Loey without giving the whole game away.
Saturday morning arrived with brutal sunshine that felt like a personal fuck you to Chanyeol’s nerves.
He was standing in front of his open closet, surrounded by a mountain of discarded t-shirts, jeans, and hoodies. He had been getting dressed for three hours. The problem was entirely psychological; he had to dress like himself, but a version of himself that had been naturally recommended by a fictitious pant enthusiast named Loey.
“What does a colleague of Loey even wear?” he asked out loud, holding up a bright yellow sweatshirt in one hand and a black leather jacker in the other. “Do I wear green? No, no, that’s too on the nose. Do I wear a flannel? No, I’ll look like a lumberjack.”
Ultimately, he settled on a simple, oversized cream knit sweater and dark jeans. It was casual and safe; it definitely didn’t scream I have been cyber stalking you via a dying fiddle leaf fig tree.
By 1:30 PM, Chanyeol was sitting in his car three blocks away from the festival entrance, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. His phone was resting in the cup holder.
He had to coordinate the hand off. This was the most delicate part of the operation.
He opened the Loey account first.
aloeyvera: My acquaintance informs me he has arrived at the vicinity. He is wearing a cream-colored sweater. He is exceptionally tall. You cannot miss him.
100_hyun: great!! im by the main ticket booth wearing oversized denim jacket, tell him if he tries to high five me within the first five minutes the deal is off
Chanyeol swallowed hard, closed the Instagram app and pulled up his actual text thread with Baekhyun on the messaging app—the one that had been dead for exactly thirty-three days.
His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he typed out a message from his own number.
Chanyeol: Hey…uhhh so weird question maybe? A guy named Loey told me u had an extra ticket to the festival today?? Im actually right outside?
He waited as he watched the screen.
Three full minutes had passed.
Baekhyun: chanyeol??? yOU of all people are loeys colleague? are u kidding me rn?
Chanyeol: YEAH! small world right? haha, he bought a monstera from me a while ago and we talk about… soil drainage sometimes. he said you needed someone to go with!
Baekhyun: aghh im going to murder that plant freak
Chanyeol shoved his phone into his pocket, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car.
The festival grounds were buzzing with music, the distant bass thumping through the warm afternoon air. Chanyeol walked toward the ticket booth, his long legs feeling like jelly. He spotted the oversized denim jacket immediately.
Baekhyun was standing near a map structure, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, tapping his foot with an expression that could have melted stone. He looked incredibly cute, his slightly long brown hair ruffled by the breeze, but he looked gorgeous.
“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol called out, keeping his voice carefully modulated. No yelling, no golden retriever energy. Quiet and sophisticated, like a guy who knew Loey.
Baekhyun snapped his head around, his eyes narrowed into slits as Chanyeol approached. He looked Chanyeol up and down, taking in the cream sweater and the uncharacteristically subdued posture.
“You,” Baekhyun said, poking a sharp finger directly into Chanyeol’s chest the second he was withing arm’s reach. “You have got to be kidding me. Of all the people in Seoul, the mysterious internet botanist I’ve been trauma dumping to sends you?”
“Hey! You can’t blame me; I was surprised too!” Chanyeol lied smoothly, raising his hands in defense. “He texted me like, ‘Hey I know a guy who likes indie music and has a checkerboard rug,’ and I was like—wait, did you buy a checkerboard rug?”
Baekhyun paused, his finger still hovering near Chanyeol’s sternum. His eyes flickered with a brief moment of confusion. “Yeah, I did. How did Loey know you liked indie music?”
“Oh, you know, we just…talk, I guess,” Chanyeol stammered, beads of sweat forming under his cream sweater. “About music theory. The modulation into F sharp minor. Very standard stuff if you ask me.”
Baekhyun stared at him for a long, agonizing five seconds. Chanyeol braced himself for the explosion. He waited for Baekhyun to connect the dots, to realize that Loey and Chanyeol both knew about the F sharp minor bridge, to throw the festival tickets in his face and walk away forever.
Instead, Baekhyun let out a loud, dramatic sigh and dropped his arms.
“Unbelievable,” Baekhyun muttered, turning toward the entrance gates. “Loey is officially the weirdest guy on the internet. Come on, giant. The opening act starts in the minutes, and if you drop sauce on my new shoes today, I’m leaving you in the mosh pit.”
Chanyeol blinked, a massive wave of relief washing over him so fast he almost fell over. He smiled a genuine, wide grin breaking through his sophisticated façade as he jogged a couple of steps to catch up to Baekhyun’s shorter stride.
“No sauce, I promise,” Chanyeol said, his voice bouncing with that familiar, happy energy. “But hey, can we get a room temperature water at the concession stand?”
Baekhyun stopped dead in his tracks, turning slowly to look at him with pure horror.
“What did you just say?”
Chanyeol’s brain screamed; the word room temperature hung in the air between them like a toxic cloud.
“I mean—!” Chanyeol’s voice cracked, shooting up an octave. He flailed his hands in front of him, nearly hitting a passing teenager holding a stick of cotton candy. “I mean, a room temperature…environment! Yeah, for the water, like not frozen, because if the bottle is too cold, my hands get stiff and then I can’t…hold the ticket properly!”
Baekhyun’s eyebrows had crawled so far up his forehead they were practically hidden under his bangs. He stared at Chanyeol with a mixture of intense judgement and deep concern.
“You’re acting so incredibly weird today,” Baekhyun said slowly, taking a step back. “First, you’re standing there like a sad ass poor thing, and now you’re talking about room temperature water like that absolute psychopath Loey. Is there a virus going around the plant community? Is the soil making you guys stupid or something?”
“Yes!” Chanyeol blurted out, seizing the excuse like a lifeline. “Spore inhalation! It’s a huge issue in the botanical community. Very dangerous, affects the Broca’s area of the brain. Anyway, look, corn dogs!”
He pointed frantically toward a food truck shaped like a giant sausage. Baekhyun looked at the truck, then back at Chanyeol, his eyes narrowing into suspicious little slits. Chanyeol thought the gig was up, he thought Baekhyun was going to pull out his phone, message Loey, and watch Chanyeol’s pocket light up in real time.
“Fine. Let’s get food, but you’re paying because you almost gave me a stroke just now.”
They walked over to the grassy area near the secondary stage, the gentle acoustic chords of an indie band floating through the air. It was physically painful for Chanyeol to keep his hands to himself. Every time a large group of people jostled them his instinct was to wrap a massive arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder and pull him close. Instead, he forced his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, looking like a giant, awkward penguin trying to navigate a crowded beach.
They sat down on a wooden bench near the back, holding two paper trays of greasy festival food.
“So,” Baekhyuun said, taking a bite of a fry and looking sideways at him. “How have you been? Seriously, you look like you lost weight. Are you eating anything besides instant ramen?”
Chanyeol’s chest tightened. The teasing tone was there, but beneath it, he could hear the genuine, quiet thread of worry that Baekhyun only used when he really cared.
“I’ve been okay,” Chanyeol said softly, looking down at his food. “The apartment is…really quiet. Too quiet, honestly. I’ve been trying to keep busy doing a lot of…interior decorating.”
“By buying three hundred ferns from a guy named Loey?”
“They add oxygen to the room, Baekhyun. It’s a health choice.”
Baekhyun let out a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that crinkled the corner of his eyes and made Chanyeol’s heart do a stupid, happy little backflip. “Yeah, whatever. You’re still a freak, but honestly, it’s kind of nice to see you. I was worried you’d be mad at me for, you know, leaving.”
Chanyeol looked at him, the noise of the festival fading into the background. “I could never be mad at you, Baek. I was just mad at myself for making you dizzy.”
Baekhyun stopped chewing. He looked at Chanyeol, his expression softening into something incredibly vulnerable. The space between them on the bench suddenly felt very small, and for a second, Chanyeol thought they were having a real, honest to god breakthrough.
Then, Baekhyun's phone buzzed in his lap.
Chanyeol’s eyes instinctively darted down. It was an Instagram notification.
Baekhyun unlocked his phone, ignored the notification, and immediately opened his DMs to type a message.
100_hyun: heyyy, im at the festival with ur colleague rn. u were right, hes exactly like a golden retriever, but hes actually being shockingly polite. did u by any chance threaten him?
Chanyeol froze, a fry halfway to his mouth, his own phone was currently sitting in his right pocket, set to vibrate.
And right on cue, against his thigh, his phone began to buzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzz.
Baekhyun paused, looking down at Chanyeol’s hip, then he looked up at Chanyeol’s face, which had turned the exact shade of a ripe tomato.
“Is your phone vibrating?” Baekhyun asked, blinking.
“Nooo!” Chanyeol squeaked, his voice cracking again. “That’s my… my sciatica! It twitches when I sit on wooden benches, you know, very common giant issue!”
Baekhyun slowly put his paper tray down on the bench. He didn’t look angry yet, he just looked profoundly and deeply fascinated.
“Your sciatica,” Baekhyun repeated, his voice dangerously calm. “Your sciatica vibrates in a rhythmic pattern that perfectly matched the cadence of an incoming direct message.”
“It’s a neurological marvel!” Chanyeol shouted; his voice cracking so hard it echoed the acoustic guitar solo coming form the stage. He clamped his thighs together, trying to physically crush his phone to stop the vibrating. “Medical journals are looking into it! I should probably stand up, moving around helps the… the nerve endings.”
He went to bolt off the bench, but Baekhyun was faster. With the lighting fast reflexes of a man who had spent years snatching the last slice of pizza from Chanyeol’s grip, Baekhyun reached out and snagged the hem of Chanyeol’s cream sweater, yanking him back down.
“Sit. Down,” Baekhyun commanded.
Chanyeol dropped back onto the wood with a pathetic oomph.
Baekhyun didn’t break eye contact. Slowly, deliberately, he picked up his own phone. His thumbs tapped the screen.
Then, came from Chanyeol’s back pocket: Bzzzzz.
Baekhyun tapped the screen again.
Bzzzzzzz.
“Wow,” Baekhyun said, a terrifying, beautiful smile spreading across his face. “That is an incredibly responsive nerve you’ve got there, Chanyeol. Let’s see what happens if I type a longer sentence.”
“Baekhyun, please,” Chanyeol whimpered, burying his face in his large hands. He looked like a giant, defeated toddler. “The festival air is full of static electricity. It’s messing with the signals—”
“Hand it over.”
“My phone?”
“No, your shoe. Yes, your phone, Chanyeol! Hand it over before I bite you.”
Knowing when he was utterly beaten, Chanyeol slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out the device and slit it across the wooden bench.
Baekhyun snatched it up, tapped the screen to wake it and didn’t even need to unlock it. the lock screen was it up with three consecutive notifications from Instagram.
aloeyvera: 100_hyun tagged you in a comment.
aloeyvera: 100_hyun sent you a photo.
aloeyvera: 100_hyun: heyyy, im at the festival with ur colleague rn…
Baekhyun stared at the screen, then he stared at the little widget on Chanyeol’s lock screen, which featured a real time tracking photo of a highly dramatic, three leafed fiddle leaf tree.
The silence between them was deafening. The indie band on stage was currently singing a heartbreaking ballad about honesty, because the universe just wanted to see Chanyeol suffer.
Slowly, Baekhyun looked up, Chanyeol was cowering, his shoulders hunched so high his neck had completely disappeared into his cream sweater.
“Loey?” Baekhyun whispered/
Chanyeol let out a small, high-pitched noise that sounded like a squeaky toy getting stepped on.
“A 175-centimeter-tall botanical purveyor named Loey?” Baekhyun’s voice trembles, he covered his mouth with his hand, his shoulders starting to shake.
“I panicked!” Chanyeol erupted. He threw his arms in the air, completely abandoning his sophisticated persona. “You said you needed space, and I didn’t want to break your boundaries, but the apartment was so quiet, Baek! And then you posted that song, and I just—I typed fellow music enthusiast and then I couldn’t stop! I bought three Pothos plants, Baekhyun! Three! I don’t even know where to put them! One of them is hanging over the toilet!”
Baekhyun was no longer covering his mouth, he was leaning over his knees, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. He was clutching his stomach, his face turning a bright, vibrant pink as he gasped for air.
“A rare shipment from Madagascar?” Baekhyun wheezed tears literally gathering in the corners of his eyes. “You told me you couldn’t come today because of a Madagascar plant delivery?!”
“It sounded exclusive!” Chanyeol yelled defensively, though a tiny, hopeful smile was starting to tug at his lips. “I needed a big excuse! And I had to tell you I drank room temperature coffee! Do you know how gross that tasted when I tried it? it tastes like liquid dirt, Baekhyun! I did that for you!”
“You are an absolute lunatic,” Baekhyun gasped, wiping a tear from his cheek as his laughter finally began to wind down. He straightened up, shaking his head in utter disbelief, looking at Chanyeol with a look that was warm, exasperated but fond. “You catfished me with a houseplant.”
“Are you…are you going to leave?” Chanyeol asked quietly, his large ears turning pink as his bravado faded back into genuine anxiety.
Baekhyun looked down at Chanyeol’s phone, then at the giant golden retriever of a man sitting next to him. he slid the phone back into Chanyeol’s hand, his fingers lingering against his palm for just a second longer than necessary.
“Well,” Baekhyun said, pulling his oversized denim jacket tighter around himself with a smirk. “I was going to leave you by the porta potties if you were annoying. But honestly? I want to hear more about Bartholomea the Monstera. And you still owe me a corn dog, Park Chanyeol.”
Chanyeol stared at his own hand, his brain trying to process the fact that his fingers hadn’t been chopped off, and his phone hadn’t been hurled into the festival’s decorative pond.
“So…” Chanyeol stammered, his voice dropping as he desperately tried to regain a shred of dignity. “You’re not blocking me? In real like or on the plant account?”
“Oh, I’m absolutely blocking Loey,” Baekhyun said cheerfully, grabbing his paper tray of fries again. “That guy was a freak. He drank lukewarm sludge and used the word swag like a substitute teacher trying to be cool. But you?” Baekhyun nudged Chanyeol’s ribs with his elbow, hard enough to make the giant wince. “You have to stay. Mostly because I need someone tall enough to block the sun from my eyes, and also because you’re paying for the corn dogs.”
“I can do that,” Chanyeol said, a massive, brilliant grin breaking across his face. He felt like he’d just escaped an execution. “I can pay for fifty corn dogs. I’ll buy the whole truck.”
“Don’t do that, the line is already huge,” Baekhyun muttered, though the corners of his mouth were twitching upward.
They sat together on the bench for the rest of the acoustic set. The initial, suffocating awkwardness of the breakup had completely evaporated, replaced by the sheer, ridiculous comedy of the past hour. Chanyeol’s shoulders slowly relaxed out or his ears, and he finally took his hands out of his pockets, resting them comfortably on his knees.
“Hey, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said quietly after a while, his eyes fixed on the stage where the lead singer was tuning an acoustic guitar.
“Yeah?”
Baekhyun turned his head, his gaze softening into something so warm it made Chanyeol’s chest ache. “You’re such an idiot. You could have just texted me. You didn’t need to invent a 175-centimeter-tall botanical ghost.”
“I told you; you said you needed space! And when you say you need space, you usually mean it. I didn’t want to mess up.” Chanyeol looked down at his own sneakers. “I just really missed you, Baek. The kitchen is…well, the ceiling is clean, but it sucks.”
Baekhyun let out a soft snort, leaning his shoulder against Chanyeol’s arm. It wasn’t a full embrace, but the casual weight of him sitting there felt like home. “Yeah, the pantry potatoes aren’t great conversationalists either.”
He reached over, casually grabbing Chanyeol’s phone right out of his hand again. Chanyeol didn’t even try to stop him. he watched as Baekhyun opened the Instagram app, navigated to the @aloeyvera account, and tapped on the direct messages.
“Let’s see what else you lied about,” Baekhyun murmured, scrolling through the chat with an evil little grin. “Oh wow. I am a man of peace. I spend my days misting my ferns. Chanyeol, you literally broke a drumstick because you got too excited playing a Muse song.”
“It was a defective drumstick!” Chanyeol protested, leaning over Baekhyun’s shoulder to look at the screen.
“And what’s this? My culinary skills are precise, like a chemist in a laboratory. Is that why you burned the bottom of my favorite pot trying to make instant tteokbokki?”
“Hey, cooking is an experimental science, Baekhyun!”
“Uh hu” Baekhyun stopped scrolling, handing the phone back to him. He stood up, shaking out his legs and stretching his arms over his head. “Come one, the main stage act is starting, and I want a good spot. And since you’re a giant, you’re carrying me on your shoulders if I can’t see over the crowd.”
Chanyeol beamed, jumping up from the bench so fast his sweater caught on the wooden slats, stretching a thread out of place. He didn’t care. He jogged after Baekhyun, his long strides easily keeping up as they headed toward the massive, cheering crowd near the front.
“Hey, Baekhyun!” Chanyeol shouted over the jumping bass of the intro music.
“What?” Baekhyun called back over his shoulder.
“Are you going to help me water the Pothos plant over the toiler?”
Baekhyun stopped, looked back at him with an expression of pure judgement and shook his head. “Absolutely not. You built the jungle, Loey. You live in it.”
The living room of Chanyeol’s apartment looked less like a modern living space and more like the inside of a greenhouse that had been hit by a minor tornado.
"I literally cannot find the television," Baekhyun said, standing in the entryway with his hands on his hips.
It was Tuesday evening, exactly three days after the festival, and Baekhyun had finally agreed to come over under the strict condition that Chanyeol cook something that didn't involve an open flame or tomatoes.
Chanyeol emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray of completely safe, non-experimental takeout containers. He looked around his own apartment, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He had tried to clean up, but there was only so much you could do when you owned twelve different variations of ivy and a fern that was currently taking up 40% of the sofa.
"It's behind Bartholomea," Chanyeol pointed out, gesturing toward a massive, sprawling Monstera that was aggressively stretching its leaves toward the window. "You just have to... kind of peer through the vines. It makes watching movies feel more adventurous. Like a safari."
Baekhyun let out a loud, dramatic groan, walking over to the couch. He carefully moved a hanging basket of Pothos out of the way and sat down, kicking his shoes off. He looked small surrounded by all the oversized greenery, but he looked entirely comfortable.
Chanyeol set the food down on the coffee table, taking his spot on the floor right in front of Baekhyun’s knees. He looked up at him, his large eyes bright and tentative.
"So," Chanyeol said softly. "The apartment. Is it... too dizzy?"
Baekhyun looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the corners where they used to stack their shared records, and then down at the brand new, plush, green-and-cream checkerboard rug.
A soft, genuine smile crept onto Baekhyun’s face. He reached out, his fingers gently tugging at the collar of Chanyeol’s t-shirt, pulling the giant just a little bit closer.
"It's noisy," Baekhyun murmured, his voice fond and teasing. "Even when you aren't talking, all this green stuff is just loud. It’s exactly like you."
"Is that a good thing?"
"It's better than the silence," Baekhyun admitted, his thumb brushing against Chanyeol's collarbone. "I missed the noise, Chanyeol. Even the tomato sauce on the ceiling."
Chanyeol’s heart swelled so much it felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest. He grinned, leaning his chin against Baekhyun’s knee like a giant, affectionate dog. "I can make more tomato sauce. On purpose this time."
"If you get a single drop on this new rug, I am blocking your phone number for real," Baekhyun warned, though he was already laughing, his fingers sliding up into Chanyeol’s thick hair to gently mess it up.
Chanyeol chuckled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He unlocked it and pulled up the @aloeyvera profile page. He held it up so Baekhyun could see.
"What are you doing?" Baekhyun asked, leaning over his shoulder.
"Deactivating," Chanyeol said, his thumb hovering over the settings menu. "Loey has served his purpose. The rare shipment from Madagascar has been delivered. It's time for him to retire to the great greenhouse in the sky."
"Wait, don't delete it yet," Baekhyun said, snatching the phone out of his grip. "Let me send one last message, for closure."
Chanyeol watched, highly amused, as Baekhyun quickly tapped out a final DM from his own account to the Loey account.
A second later, Chanyeol’s phone screen flashed with the notification.
100_hyun: goodbye plant guy. ur coffee order is still disgusting but ur colleague is a keeper, swag
Baekhyun hit the deactivate button himself, turning the screen black, and tossed the phone onto the cushion behind him. He wrapped both arms around Chanyeol’s neck, pulling him up into a real, proper embrace.
"Now feed me," Baekhyun whispered into his ear, laughing as Chanyeol buried his face in his neck, squeezing him tight. "And tomorrow, we are finding a new home for that plant over the toilet."