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Mark always makes sure to walk by Donghyuck’s house whenever he comes home from school, even if it means he has to take a five-minutes detour to get there.
The younger is usually perched on top of his roof, legs dangling down, the laces of his well-worn sneakers always left untied. Sometimes he’ll be dead to the world up there, an arm slung over his eyes and body exposed under the warm spring sun. Other times, like today, he’s awake and facing down the street, eyes heavy but watchful, like an overgrown house cat.
Donghyuck is chewing something when Mark stops in front of his fence, staring up at him. He’s leaning on one elbow, eyes closed, cheek wedged against his palm. When he opens his eyes and spots Mark, he blows a ridiculously big, pink bubblegum that soon bursts with a loud pop, and grins teethily. That’s how he greets Mark, usually, with The Grin: Cheshire style.
“Hiya,” he says. “Haven’t seen you in such a long time.”
And then that’s how he greets Mark with words.
Mark pretends to look done. Not all that hard to do, really, when it comes to Donghyuck Lee, everyone is easily capable of looking done. It’s an automatic expression, sort of.
“Hyuck, we talked yesterday. Like, literally, we talked here yesterday. In this place. We’re here everyday, more like.”
Donghyuck ignores him, and instead rolls back down to his stomach and rests his face in his arms. Truly, he looks like a cat. Jeno’s cat is less of a cat than Donghyuck ever is.
“How was school?” he asks, opening one eye to glance at Mark. “Still sucks ass?”
“As always,” Mark mutters, and he pushes the gate of Donghyuck’s house open. He can see from the corner of his eye that the curtains on the windows of Donghyuck’s house are still shut as always, but he stopped paying it any mind years ago. Instead, he goes straight for the tree, places one foot on the bottommost dip on the wood that he and Donghyuck had carved when they were fourteen (Donghyuck was thirteen), one hand on the lower branch. “Lucky you.”
“Come on up and I’ll fight you, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck lazily says, throwing his hands up in the air in a mocking gesture.
“What, you’re gonna beat me up in my own head?” Mark says, lifting himself up and begins to climb the tree. He huffs a breath with every step. “Gonna imagine you’re actually punching me and not failing for once?”
Donghyuck laughs out loud, and Mark has heard this countless of times, but he still stops moving to listen. Donghyuck’s laugh is loud, clear, and sort of melodic. Well, he used to be a part of the church choir before he stopped coming every Sunday, anyway, so maybe that’s why. Though if Mark has to say anything about his personality, it’s not nearly as saintly as his voice. Not even close, oh my god.
It seems like Donghyuck is in a great mood today. Usually when Mark challenges him like that, he’ll pounce back. With his mind, of course, not his fists, because his physical power is just as reliable as the school cafeteria’s public wifi on a Monday lunch break. Maybe that has something to do with the fact that they’re alone right now and Donghyuck doesn’t have to keep up his “I live to make anyone by the name Mark Lee suffer” in front of everyone else (Mark nitpicks because he basically sports the same complex, albeit more lowkey).
Mark lodges his foot on the last top gouge on the tree, and with a precision a stroppy skinny boy could only get from years of practice, jumps to the roof next to Donghyuck. The younger simply shifts aside so Mark can have the spot he previously inhabited. When Mark settles down and throws his knapsack over his knee, Donghyuck leans back with his arm behind his head.
“Tell me about school,” he asks Mark, like he always does whenever it’s not Sunday. “Did something happen today?”
Mark snorts. “That something is called class and they are all useless. Except for English. English is cool, man.”
“You only like it because you’re good at it,” Donghyuck states, and Mark doesn’t deny because Donghyuck isn’t wrong. “Anything else? Did any of our guys do something interesting, maybe?”
“If by interesting you mean disastrous, then yeah, kinda,” Mark says, and like Donghyuck, he also drops himself on his back. Spring is the best. They wouldn’t be able to enjoy the sun like this if it’s summer – they’ll melt and become one with the roof. When it’s summertime, Mark and Donghyuck usually migrate to the patio. “Jisung got himself in detention again because he was loitering around places he shouldn’t be. Renjun became the primary suspect of the tragic prank during the last chem test because he ran out of class before the explosion even happened. Y’know, the usual.”
Donghyuck hums, amused. “What about our favorite passive pair? They never really caused problems, now that I think about it.”
“They are pretty docile compared to the rest of us,” Mark comments. “Last time Jeno got in trouble was when he accidentally invited that deer into the library last November? But Jaemin’s clean all year round.”
“What’s the worst you can cause with a power like that, a breakup?” Donghyuck snorts. “He’s just being too careful.”
“Well… technically he should be able to cause a breakup if he tries hard enough,” Mark slowly says, frowning, and turns to look at Donghyuck. The younger’s staring up at the tree branches looming over them. Mark kinda wants to know what he’s thinking about. Sadly he can only move things, not read minds. But maybe Donghyuck wouldn’t be this intriguing if Mark could actually know what’s going on in his head. “But Jaemin isn’t manipulative by nature, and I doubt he’ll ever have any reason to be, so yeah.”
For a second there Mark wonders if he’s overanalyzing Jaemin, and Donghyuck is just thinking of a way to argue with him because he’s the one who’s been friends with Jaemin longer, and he hates it when Mark is right. Instead of saying anything, though, Donghyuck just tells him, “Close your eyes,” and Mark complies, without any complaining, because this is how Donghyuck argues when they’re alone.
Donghyuck has done this to him – and others, too – countless of times before, but it’s still dumbfounding to see things in his head that aren’t his thoughts, swimming around in hazes of bright colors like the kois in Chenle’s backyard pond. Then he sees a rippling image of Jaemin, probably younger by a few of years than he is now, smiling in a smile so wide and sly that it’s uncharacteristic, saying, “Hyuck, either you go to Jeno’s house and apologize or I’ll tell your mom who really broke the Noritake Blue Sorrentino saucer last week.”
Mark whistles. “You broke your mom’s Noritake? How are you still alive?”
“Damn, I barely survived that one,” Donghyuck groans. “But the point is, Jaemin isn’t as innocent as you think. He’s a demon wearing a set of human skin.”
“What the hell did you do to Jeno, though?” Mark asks, moments later, after the image inside of his mind disintegrates back to his own familiar, dull thoughts. “Must be real bad, since Jaemin of all people was personally, uh, persuading you.”
“He made a big deal out of nothing,” Donghyuck says dismissively. “I just called Jeno the less useful version of Anna Breytenbach, that’s what I did.”
Mark snorts so loud he almost chokes. “Dude.”
“Hey, Breytenbach is cool, okay? I admire her. Jeno? Not so much.”
On the back of his eyelids, Mark tries to imagine Donghyuck, coming up to Jeno’s front door with Jaemin trailing after him, yelling, “Jeno Lee I’m sorry for calling you useless but you know damn well it’s true!” The image is so comical and realistic it has Mark laughing until he’s breathless.
Donghyuck’s hand lands on top of Mark’s chest. “What you laughing at?”
“You,” Mark tells him, and Donghyuck purses his lips, but doesn’t say anything in respond. He just slowly pulls his hand away, once again settling it behind his back. Mark doesn’t see it because he turns his head away, but Donghyuck is smiling.
Jaemin reckons after well over ten years of tossing pebbles at his window nearly every hour, Jeno should’ve at least learned to respond after the second throw.
Evidently he hasn’t. Jaemin is seriously considering flinging his desk calendar at Jeno’s window, already has the thing in his hand and aiming, when Jeno suddenly opens his window and sticks his head out. He catches Jaemin freezing mid-action, floral-themed supermarket calendar in hand, and narrows his already narrow eyes even more.
“Were you seriously planning to chuck that at me?” he immediately demands, gaze flicking at Jaemin’s calendar before back to his face again.
“At your window, actually,” Jaemin says smartly.
“I was bonding with Charmandee,” Jeno hisses, making a gesture of shooing Jaemin away with his hands. “We were actually having a good time before you so politely interrupted.”
Jaemin sighs. “Jeno, we talked about this. Charmander is a freaking lizard. And that thing you’re cooing over in your room? That’s no lizard, that’s a rabid squirrel.”
“Who ever said anything about Charmander? His name’s Charmandee,” Jeno retorts as if Jaemin hasn’t just stated a very accurate fact that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. “And don’t say that. He’s not rabid.”
“He nearly bit Mark’s pinkie off yesterday, did you omit that part from your memory, or.”
“Probably because Mark smelled too much like Donghyuck.”
“And what, pray tell, does that even mean?”
“Because Donghyuck smells like death,” Jeno whispers, lowering his voice considerably, as if Donghyuck is right next to him and not like, five blocks away spending his time with Mark wherever else. “No, I’m serious,” he adds, pouting when Jaemin just raises an eyebrow and laughs. “My friends don’t like him. They think he smells like trouble. And honestly, after seeing him chase around those hens in your aunt’s farm last summer? I don’t have a hard time believing it.”
“I mean you’re not really wrong,” Jaemin says, “But I’m your friend and I like him. So what’s up with that?”
Jeno’s eyes form crescents as he smiles, and it makes Jaemin smile, too. “I mean my other friends, Nana.”
“You make it sound like you’re a medium and you’re befriending dead spirits or something,” Jaemin notes, “When I know for a fact that the creepiest thing you’ve ever brought to that room goes by the name of Huang Renjun. And Charmandee, but he’s new, so I graciously took him off the list.”
Jeno chuckles. “But Renjun comes to your room, too. And how can you say he’s creepy when you can touch me and ask me what the hell did Jisung say to me this morning when I haven’t even talked to you before now? That’s one creepy thing right there. What’s the saying—ah, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Jeno might not notice the irony, because although Jaemin isn’t living in a glass house, he’s been throwing stones at Jeno’s window for far too long to count. He decides to keep this to himself.
“But what did Jisungie say to you this morning?” he instead inquires. “Did you guys bicker again? Did he hit you? Did you hit him?”
Jeno lifts both his hands up. “I don’t do animal abuse.”
“Hey!”
“Kidding. It wasn’t physical. It’s never physical. You know, just the usual stuff,” Jeno says, shrugging. “That I’m no fun and whatnot. In a way, he’s better than Donghyuck when it comes to creative insults.”
“Donghyuck’s only creative when he’s fighting Mark, honestly.”
“Word.”
“But did he… offend you?” Jaemin asks, more carefully now. “You know, with the whole animal thing. Did he say something out of line?”
“Even if he did,” Jeno says, “What would you do? Catch him by the neck and bring him here to apologize just like you did to Donghyuck three years ago?”
Wow, Jeno certainly has a better memory than Jaemin. He doesn’t even remember how long time ago was that, but to be fair, he isn’t often the firsthand victim of the nonexistence of Donghyuck’s brain to mouth filter, so.
“I didn’t catch Donghyuck by the neck,” Jaemin says a little defensively. “I just… uh, used a rather unconventional method of persuasion to get him here.”
“You can say it out loud, we all already know: you threatened him.”
“Gently!”
“Slyly,” Jeno corrects with a delighted smile. “You’re not what you look like, Nana, and I don’t hate that.”
“Jisung, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Chenle whines from his place on Jisung’s bed. They’re both squeezed next to each other, Jisung’s Moomin pillow squashed underneath their knees, sharing an ancient binocular Jisung got from his favorite babysitter on his birthday five years ago. “We’re totally spying on them. This is a breach of privacy.”
The way Chenle says breach is weird. There’s a peculiar Chinese lull in his accent, and Jisung immediately knows he’s just recently updated his vocab list with Renjun. Probably yesterday, when he stood Jisung up for ice cream. (He’s still going to guilt-trip him about that later. Which would only work if Chenle was actually capable of feeling guilt. Hint: he isn’t.)
“It’s not breach, it’s violation.”
“What?”
“You meant to say ‘violation of privacy’, I think.”
Said favorite babysitter is currently flirting with his stupidly handsome neighbor from their bedroom windows. Bedroom windows which just so coincidentally happen to face each other, separated by only a few feet, completely incoveniently (for him).
“Well, they’re not flirting flirting,” Chenle says, when Jisung heatedly points this out like a fussy child (he is). “They’re just, like, talking.”
“Talking like they’re actual boyfriends!” Jisung heatedly defends himself, hand circling around the body of the binocular tightly until his knuckles are white. “How many times a day do you think I have to see this? What if someone from school other than me—and you—spot them like that? Jaemin’s insane and Jeno can’t keep his hands to himself.”
Chenle says in a smaller voice, “Man, I think you’re a lost cause.”
“Shut up or I’ll ship you back to China.”
“Can’t, I haven’t renewed my passport.”
“I’ll ship you ilegally,” Jisung decides, and after awhile he finally pulls the binocular away from his face and glares at Chenle.
“Why don’t you just take me there?” Chenle asks, grinning. “I know you can’t just, like, get us straight to Beijing, but we can take a five-seconds rest between 1,000 times of you teleporting. I don’t mind.“
“What the hell are you doing, planning road trips with my power.”
“Road trips? More like… sky trips, though? Since we don’t even touch the ground. Get it, it’s literally sky trips—”
Jisung cuts him off with a grunt, and for good measure, throws the binocular at him. Chenle dodges with a piercing scream-laugh, falling off the bed in the process. And then with a soft pop, he glows.
This isn’t a rare occurrence, really. Uncommon enough that Jisung doesn’t even bat an eyelash and just glances up at the door, worried that someone’s gonna walk in while Chenle has temporarily turned into a lava lamp. Well, he can just take him out to the garden in an instant, but it’d be such a waste of energy, and Jisung needs to save up so he can fight Jeno again tomorrow.
So he deadpans, “Calm down before my mom walks in.”
Jisung should’ve known that the words calm and Zhong don’t usually stick on the same page. Ever. Chenle just laughs even harder, holding his stomach, rolling around on the floor now, and Jisung kinda wants to smack his head against the windowsill when he glows even brighter. What a pain.
Renjun looks up from the book he’s reading with a sigh and says, “Watch out, Mark,” but it’s already too late. With a loud curse that would’ve earned him an instant trip to the counsellor’s office if he’d said that on school grounds, Mark drops the one egg he was holding with his two very fully capable hands. Raw, yellow and transparent liquid splashes all over Mark’s white Vans, Renjun’s tiled kitchen floor, and a bit on the fridge door.
Another swearword from Mark, followed with a panicked, “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry, Injun—“ and Renjun just sighs again.
Donghyuck scoffs from his spot on the stairs where he’s leaning his head against on Jaemin’s thigh. He’s got one arm hooked behind Jaemin’s knee and is busy with his game, but however occupied he is, he’ll never miss a chance to affront Mark.
“Mark Lee, truly the walking disaster zone,” he announces loudly.
“And what’re you, idiocy personified?”
“Guys,” Renjun says, pinching the bridge of his nose a little tiredly, “Let’s not start? I’m tired. I invited you here to be the emotional support I need. Not another source of stress. Please. Please shut up.”
“Sorry,” Mark says again, looking at Renjun dejectedly, while Donghyuck hollers, “That makes it, what, the fifth egg you’ve broken this week?”
“Oh, Renjun, sweetie,” Jaemin says kindly. “You know you were already planning the demise of your own emotional wellbeing the moment you even thought about putting Mark and Donghyuck in a single room.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Donghyuck asks, looking up suspiciously at Jaemin when the younger starts weaving his fingers between his copper-colored hair.
“I merely stated a fact,” Jaemin reasonably replies, and Donghyuck hums a quiet, “Ah, I see,” before pressing his cheek back on Jaemin’s leg.
Mark murmurs something under his breath that Renjun can’t quite catch, but he can guess anyway. Mark is probably (also) questioning the curious effect Na Jaemin has on everyone – especially Donghyuck, who thinks leaving an insult (no matter how well-veiled it is) unattended is a sin. Though hypothetically, if Jaemin would ever insult him, Renjun would probably just nod and agree. Since, you know, with his magic hands, he can know everything, so his insults might not be inaccurate at all.
“You know the drill,” Jaemin says, when Mark walks past them to get the mop.
“You know the drill,” Renjun repeats weakly, and sinks further into the cushy material of the sofa, pushing his glasses up his nose and hiding his face behind his book.
(He doesn’t bother telling Mark that the older will eventually trip on a doormat and land on his face on his way to the broom closet this time, because even if he does, Mark will still trip anyway. His clumsiness transcends even the mystery of precognition.)
Jaemin still has his hands on Donghyuck’s head, stroking his hair absentmindedly as the older boy yelled muffled curses at his game. He could feel Donghyuck’s irritation building up when his Mario keeps falling off into the lava, but also a faint sense of long-lasting giddiness that could only be caused by someone, and that someone is probably currently busy cleaning the broken egg off the floor of Renjun’s kitchen.
“Don’t you miss me?” Jaemin asks, with absolutely no evil intention of outing Donghyuck about how he might not hate Mark as much as he lets on. Oh yes, Jaemin knows things, but he doesn’t tell. Not that easily, anyway. Unless he’s very sure he’ll gain something from it. Which he currently doesn’t. “We haven’t really hung out lately, all three of us,” he continues, when Donghyuck doesn’t seem to pay him any attention (he does, Jaemin just knows he likes playing hard to get). “You’re attached to Mark by the hip.”
Donghyuck grunts, but he’s grinning. “Not my fault Mark lives closer to me,” he says.
“And definitely not my fault you like Mark more than you like Jeno.”
“That’s a lie.”
Jaemin snorts. How dare Donghyuck says that Jaemin – him of all people! – is lying when he’s got his hand pressed on Donghyuck’s skin, absorbing everything from the tiny detail of his lonesome morning and the dull Pop-Tart he ate for breakfast to that one memory he showed Mark before they got here. In Donghyuck’s term of likability, Mark definitely bests Jeno. It’s written all over Donghyuck’s mind. It’s not Jaemin’s problem that top-heavy self-denial is Donghyuck’s favorite bad habit.
“Wait,” he abruptly says, fingers tightening on the strands of Donghyuck’s well-dyed copper hair, “Why did you show him that?”
“That what?”
Jaemin smacks his head lightly. “That one time when I threatened you.”
“Because he needed to know how much of a snake you are.”
Donghyuck doesn’t appreciate being shoved down the stairs, but his cackling as he tumbles down to the bottom step at least tells Jaemin that he hasn’t broken his own neck. Jaemin wishes he did.
Jisung remembers the most thrilling moment of his life: the day when Donghyuck completely dropped school was, undeniably, particularly thrilling for him. (He doesn’t tell Donghyuck this, of course, and there are two reasons why: a) Donghyuck’s already over-the-top ego absolutely doesn’t need to be indulged any more, and b) Jaemin will freak. No, seriously. Jaemin will freak.)
Jisung was thirteen at the time, and he was just coincidentally walking past the bike parking lot of the adjacent high school building when he heard screamings, faraway voices but not far enough not to notice, and he spun on his heels. Chenle, who was trailing behind him, crashed against him and let out a muffled grunt.
“Do you hear that?” Jisung asked him, before Chenle could complain as to why Jisung had suddenly stopped dead in his tracks without a warning.
“I have two working ears for a reason, Park,” he dryly responds, but then he drops all cynicism when voices got louder. He falters. “I know that voice,” he adds feebly.
Jisung, with great horror (though not really), realized why it made him stop the first time he heard it – he’d recognized the voice as well.
Both of them startled when one of the windows of the nearest classroom banged open with a loud thump and a backpack fell out – correction, was probably thrown out. Jisung and Chenle watched as it plunges down from the window of the second floor classroom, at least five feet up, which sill was soon adorned by a set of legs in jeans and red sneakers dangling out.
The screams got even louder and clearer now, and Chenle gasped out a shaky oh my god as Donghyuck Lee, who had perched himself on the windowsill, yelled a curseword over his shoulder, flipped whoever was chasing him the bird, and jumped down – all in the short span of five seconds. He landed on his feet like a cat, not even blinking at the impact, and snatched his backpack from the ground before turning around to look back up at the window.
“I’m done with this shit, I’m out! You wimps can kiss my ass goodbye!” he yelled, at no one in particular (at least Jisung didn’t see anyone chasing him out of the window, which was good?), and after one more middle finger later, he fled.
He spotted Jisung and Chenle looking at him with wide eyes and gaping mouths on his way out, grinned at them, and said in a surprisingly exultant voice, “Just don’t tell Jaemin I jumped!”
“How could I not tell Jaemin he jumped off from the second freaking floor,” Jisung screeched to Chenle moments later, when Donghyuck had already vanished over the gate (it was always closed during school hours, but evidently if a two story classroom couldn’t stop Donghyuck, neither would a padlock). “The whole school probably has found out already, he’s out of his mind!” And out of the school, too, undoubtedly.
“Maaaaan,” Chenle said, dragging out the vowels with his stupidly cute Chinese accent, voice so full of awe it made Jisung scrunched his nose in disgust, “He’s so cool.”
“He’s a mess,” Jisung corrected, but he did agree that what Donghyuck did was Cool. Borderline crazy, maybe, but it was Cool.
“Besides,” Chenle said hours later, still in that dazed voice, after they got to the cafeteria, “Even if he told us not to tell Jaemin, Jaemin will find out sooner or later, anyway.” He gestured vaguely at the swarming lunch tables all around them, all of the students buzzing with excited conversations, no doubt discussing Donghyuck’s latest (and probably last in this school) shenanigan. “Everyone’s literally talking about it.”
Jisung rubs a spot in his cheek that doesn’t even itch. “Jaemin probably doesn’t even need to touch him to know the stunt he’s pulled.”
“You think Mark’ll get him for that?”
“What can Mark do honestly?”
“I don’t know, he can actually fight? You know, with his fists?”
“He wouldn’t fight Donghyuck like that.” Jisung widened his eyes. Then with a lower voice, he asked again, more unsure, “Would he?”
“I don’t know, Mark’s stupid but his unpredictability is real.”
Jisung dug his knuckles into his cheek and stared uninterestedly at his sandwich. Chenle was right: if there was one thing that was more innate than Mark’s clumsiness, it was his impulsiveness. And Jisung was really curious, too. He kinda wanted to see Donghyuck being confronted by Mark for once, but literally nobody could ever know how he was going to react about Donghyuck forsaking school like that… nobody…
His mind made a small except, and then a lightbulb.
Jisung stood up so quick he nearly toppled his tray over. “Let’s find Renjun.”
Renjun did not, however, want to be found. Jisung had to move around for a full ten minutes before he found the older boy hidden behind the furthest shelf of the school library, a book opened on his lap. When Jisung crouched down in front of him, he barely glanced at him, but sighed nevertheless, as if he’d expected Jisung’s arrival. Well, he must’ve seen him coming, anyway.
“Why are you here?” Jisung asked him.
“Why are you here?” Renjun retorted with a heavy sigh.
“I asked you first.”
“I’m skipping Calculus,” Renjun said, and like Chenle, there was a bit of an accent that made his Korean sound slower and shakier. Jisung thought it was cute. Renjun was cute. “My classmates will… interrogate… me about Donghyuck, no doubt.” (The way Renjun said interrogate was adorable, too.)
“You don’t like that?”
“At this point in time, even without Donghyuck making a fool out of himself like that, I don’t want anyone to know I’m associated with that idiot.”
Jisung grinned. “Y’know, you’re not wrong.”
“What are you here for, Jisung?” Renjun then asked again, flipping a page a little wearily. “You left Chenle alone in class. Is he going to be okay?”
“Not my problem if he doesn’t want to ditch Mr. Seo’s Spanish. Also, you saw me coming, didn’t you? Don’t you know what I’m about to ask you?”
“I see things, not read minds. I’m not Jaemin,” Renjun replied, and there was a small smile on his lips. He scooted a little bit to the side and patted a spot on the floor next to him, and Jisung squeezed himself between Renjun and the bookshelf. The boy smelled like air conditioned room (he was probably from the computer lab) and fresh laundries. “I knew you were coming, but I don’t know what you’re going to ask me. Probably has something to do with Donghyuck, though.”
“I was actually gonna ask if it’s gonna be Nana or Mark who’ll beat him up good later.”
Renjun bursted out laughing, his giggles loud and clear in the near-empty library. Then he quickly put his hand over his mouth in horror. “Oh, dear. Didn’t mean to do that.”
Jisung craned his neck down to see from the gaps between the shelves. Their school librarian, Ms. Kang, didn’t seem to hear Renjun’s laugh because she had her earphones on. Thank their luck. “Naw, we’re safe. So who’s gonna kill him first? Nana or Mark? I’m dying to know, I have to record it.”
Renjun laughed again, softer this time. “I’m not a fortuneteller, Jisung.”
“Um, excuse you, you literally are,” Jisung said in mock disbelief. “I’m here to hear you clarify Donghyuck’s everlasting bad luck! I just want to know how bad it is for him today, so you better tell me.”
“Someone’s eager,” Renjun teased. “What if I told you that Jeno will be the most upset about this, though? Even more than Jaemin and Mark combined?”
Jisung scowled when he heard Jeno’s name, but whatever. “Why?”
“Because if Donghyuck really dropped out of school, it means Jeno will no longer have a company in his Anthro class. He’ll fall asleep a lot more often now, and his grades will be in danger.”
“Man,” Jisung says, a little in awe, “And here I thought Jeno hates Donghyuck’s company, that poor guy.”
“And I thought you hate Jeno in general.”
“I do, don’t worry. But Jeno won’t beat him up for it, won’t he?”
“Probably not. He’ll sulk, but he’s not a fighter,” Renjun said, closing his book now and tucked it back behind him. “Jaemin or Mark, huh. Take a guess.”
“Nana is my religion. I believe in no one but him. And you. But him first.”
Renjun snorted. “Yeah, it’s him. He’s going to destroy Donghyuck this afternoon, and then, Mark will have his chance tonight.”
Jeno falls asleep often in class lately.
It’s not new actually, this habit of his, and it’s all Donghyuck’s fault. Everything will still be alright if Donghyuck hadn’t decided that school was such a bad idea that he just had to leave. Jeno already knows it’s a bad idea – he’s known so from the moment he stepped in the building on his very first day – but he never really acts out on it. Which is apparently a fundamental difference between him and Donghyuck: the actual bravado that makes Donghyuck… well, Donghyuck, Jeno lacks.
Jeno doesn’t like thinking that, though. He likes to think that he’s simply the sane one and Donghyuck’s just crazy. He’s survived the last two years without Donghyuck like that.
At least Jaemin’s sane, too. And he’s always there to sit with Jeno during lunch, even if he sometimes brings that devil’s spawn Jisung Park with him.
Anyway, Jeno finds it really hard to concentrate. He’s sitting alone at the back of the class, on the seat near the window, which he had opened slightly because it’s a damn hot day. Even the wind feels strangely stagnant and dull today. Jeno rests his head down on his arms and tries to focus, but his attention is dwindling. His eyelids are so heavy he can’t even make out what Ms. Bae is writing on the board anymore… Something about cultural transformation…
Jeno falls asleep.
It’s strange because usually his naps are dreamless, but maybe this time he’s just too tired that his body is assuming he’s sleeping his nightly portion. He dreams of many things: miasmas of various shades, which reminds him of the way Donghyuck shows him things inside of his mind; the murky imagery of their school building, shifting and inconsistent; and then a memory of his friends and him gathering around the girded fence of the abandoned industry lot a few years back – Mark’s worried frown, Donghyuck’s excited grin, Jaemin telling Jisung and Chenle to stop bickering, and Renjun’s inattentive gaze. Jeno can actually feel the heat of the sun on his back, burning sweat dripping down cheeks and damping his hair, and when he turns to Donghyuck, the younger tells him, “You climb first.”
Jeno, in his sleep, vaguely recalls that this had actually happened, and he’s just reliving it as a dream in his Anthro nap.
Oh, he thinks. It’s that day.
“Why me?” he asks Donghyuck, who rests his head on the back of Jaemin’s shoulders as the taller boy looks up to the fence, face worried but also quite thrilled. “You’re the better climber.”
“Are you scared?” Donghyuck asks, raising an eyebrow. “The electricity’s off. I checked.”
“Did you? When?”
“Just now,” Donghyuck says, and to prove his point, he reaches up to touch the fence, and beams when his fingers could stay there against the metal for more than five seconds. Ten seconds. And then fifteen. “See. It’s off. It’s probably been off since last month, but I only checked just now.”
Seeing that Jeno has no other choice, and also that he doesn’t want to give Jisung more reason to attack him, he steadies one foot on the fence and begins to climb.
“Be careful,” Jaemin calls out, when Jeno stops in the middle, trying to find a way to sling his leg over the top without ripping his slacks, or getting his shoelaces caught. “It’s pretty high up.”
“I know,” Jeno tells him, and he braces himself to jump over the edge, landing down smoothly on a patch of dry grass. His ankle wavers, but he stands up and pats the dust off his knees. His feet are fine. “Okay, cool. Who’s next?”
“You sure this place isn’t, like, radioactive?” Mark asks from his spot next to Renjun. He nervously pulls up his beanie before pushing his hair in it again.
“Would it make a difference if I say I don’t know?” Donghyuck replies, shrugging. “If we die, then we die, Mark. It’s better than dying in that stupid boring town over there anyway.” He jabs his fingers to the direction of the town behind them, just down the hills and trees, small and dry and sad-looking collection of old buildings, if Jeno’s being honest here.
Jaemin sighs, taking his eyes off Jeno to look at Donghyuck a little jadedly. Jeno knows Donghyuck’s said this a lot, and Jaemin’s responded a lot, too. “Not to be rude, Donghyuck, but that stupid boring town you just spat on? That’s our home.”
“Don’t care,” Donghyuck says, and he rubs his hands on his jeans before going for the fence. “I don’t acknowledge it, anyway.”
“Fine,” Jaemin says, and he watches as Donghyuck effortlessly climbs over the fence, never sliding down, never hesitating on where to place his foot, never a bodily movement spared uselessly. “Donghyuck Lee, the professional illegal fence climber.”
“I don’t think we should use the word professional and illegal in one single sentence,” Jisung comments. “Unless we’re describing Donghyuck, yeah, whose whole existence is an irony in itself.”
“Get here, you brat, I’ll drown you.”
“Drown me where, exactly?”
“There’s gotta be a well here somewhere. Or I’ll just bury you in the dump.”
“Can you climb?” Jaemin asks Jisung, who just shrugs and nods. “Okay, be careful. Chenle, can you climb?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Renjun?”
“Donghyuck taught me earlier.”
“That’s not convincing. Can you help him, Mark?”
Mark just scoffs. “It’s funny how you act like such a responsible friend everyday yet you’re here not doubting Donghyuck’s honestly bad decision even for one bit.”
Jaemin smiles, unoffended. “I’m responsible, but I know how to have fun,” he says. “Besides, you’re the oldest one here. You’re supposed to be responsible, too.”
“Age has nothing to do with responsibility when you’re powerless,” Donghyuck yells from the other side. He’s got one arm slung around Jeno’s waist and his head on his shoulder. Donghyuck’s extremely handsy today. He probably thinks that should they encounter a problem later, he’ll be able to skinship his way out of the blame. Typical Donghyuck behavior. “He tried to refuse, but I didn’t let him. See if that says a lot about his sense of responsibility.”
“Classic,” Jeno joins in. “When isn’t Mark powerless?”
“Never, my friend, never,” Donghyuck agrees, and both he and Jeno cackle in annoying affinity. Mark purses his lips but he doesn’t respond. Jeno catches Jaemin’s eyes on him again, and the taller is smiling. Not weird, since he smiles a lot.
“Don’t gang up on our nerd, boys,” he reminds them. “What if he ditches us here? We’ll die without him.”
Donghyuck guffaws even louder. “Did Jesus retire and make Mark Lee the god of all lives? I think the hell not.”
“I hope there’s an interdimensional portal somewhere in there so I can push you through it,” Mark tells Donghyuck, as he steadies one foot on the fence and begins climbing. While he does, Jisung jumps down from the top and lands near Jeno with a soft thump. “When you wake up, you’ll wake up in hell. How about that, huh?”
“Nerd,” Jisung and Jeno say at the same time, and Jeno winces. Jinx.
“Let me think of a better comeback,” Donghyuck says, and he peels himself away from Jeno to offer Mark his hand as the older reaches the top of the fence. Jeno just grins when Mark scowls, but takes Donghyuck’s hand anyway because Mark’s way too afraid of falling. “Don’t cry if we fall off a cliff, Mark, we’re here for a good time, not a long time.”
“I second that advice,” Chenle says. It’s his turn to climb. Jeno doesn’t really worry about Chenle – the kid is friends with Jisung for a reason, but Renjun. Renjun only deals with books. He’s told Jeno that he has never climbed a tree even once in his life, and now Donghyuck is basically coercing him to jump over a metal, used-to-be-electric fence. He taught him earlier, sure (“Just put one foot here, another foot there, use your hands properly, and don’t look down ever.” “Can you be more specific? Or at least helpful?” “I can’t, I’m a school dropout.”) but if Jeno believes in Donghyuck, Jisung is a well-mannered quiet child who never picks a fight with him ever.
“Nana,” Jeno calls out to his best friend, who is now leaning on the fence, watching Chenle move carefully above like a kitten. Jeno knows the reason why Jaemin is still there because he wants to make sure everyone gets past the fence safely before he does. How does he say this without possibly hurting Renjun’s pride? “Injun.”
“What?” Renjun asks, thinking Jeno’s talking to him.
But Jaemin isn’t titled his best friend for nothing. “Yeah, I know.”
Jeno suddenly stirs, the heat is getting to him that it cuts the dream off. The back of his shirt is really damp with sweat, and he reluctantly wakes up, lifting his face from his arms. His legs are so hot, it feels like they’re burning inside of his socks. So he takes all of it off, shoes and socks, and drop them off to the floor. Ms. Bae is still talking, not a sign that she’s noticed Jeno has spent the past half an hour knocked out cold, and he drops his head again with a sigh. He wishes the dream would continue where it’s left off, but alas, he dreams of Charmandee instead.
“Where’re your shoes?” Jaemin asks, when Jeno sits down across of him on their usual table, with only an apple in his hand because he feels like he’s not equipped enough to take on the menu today (he doesn’t like fish).
It takes Jeno almost a minute to register what Jaemin is saying.
“What?”
“Where are your shoes, Jen,” Jaemin repeats patiently, and he gestures down at Jeno’s bare feet, and the older startles when he realizes that Jaemin is right.
“Fu—“
“Don’t curse.”
Jeno clasps his mouth. “I mean, oh my god, I forgot I took them off earlier in Anthro. What a careless fool I am, whoa.”
Jaemin throws him an unimpressed once-over. “So you left them in class?”
“Probably. They should still be under my desk. I’ll get them later before the next class.”
“And you only realized this just now?”
“Yeah? I was wondering why people were staring,” Jeno replies, taking a small bite of the apple. What a dull taste. At least better than getting rash for eating the fish, he supposes. “It was really hot earlier when I slept, so I took them off, socks and all.”
Jaemin exhales. “You slept again in Ms. Bae’s class?”
Jeno makes a noncommittal hum because Jaemin knows the answer, anyway. The taller boy just sighs again, twirling his fork around.
“Do you want me to switch my Geo?” he finally asks.
“Switch your Geo? With what?”
“With Anthro. So I can keep you company,” Jaemin says. He brings down his fork to stab on a cherry tomato. “I don’t like it, anyway. Renjun’s too quiet. Mark’s too smart.”
Jeno blinks. “You don’t have to do that. Won’t it mess up your grades?”
“It won’t if it’s still this early in the semester.”
“You don’t even like people. You won’t be able to keep up with it.”
“Well, I like you,” Jaemin responds without missing a beat, and Jeno actually has to check if Jaemin’s foot is touching his under the table because it seems like he’s reading Jeno’s thoughts before Jeno even thinks them. “Unless you’re not actually a person? Have you begun to morph into some sort of animal? Werewolf, maybe? It’s okay, I’m a dog person.”
Jeno narrows his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You don’t want me around?”
Jeno looks up from their feet underneath the table and at Jaemin. The boy is scowling adorably, brows raised high, and Jeno wonders why did he even bother to doubt him in the first place. Jaemin does whatever he wants, whether Jeno allows him or not. Or in situations where Jeno looks like he’s not gonna go with it, he whips up this whole ‘do you hate me’ act just to get on Jeno’s nerve. And to get what he wants. No wonder Donghyuck doesn’t want to get on Jaemin’s bad side (none of them do).
Jaemin’s smile comes back before Jeno even opens his mouth. He doesn’t even need to touch Jeno to know. So he opts with: “Well… I’ll see you next Friday, I guess.”
“You got it.” Jaemin beams brightly. Then he pushes back his chair and bends down to take his shoes off. Jeno watches blankly for a few seconds, before he finally gets his mind back in gear.
“What’re you doing?”
Jaemin takes off his socks and stuff them in his shoes, then looks up at Jeno. “An act of solidarity,” he says, winking, and then continues to eat like nothing has ever happened.
(Jaemin doesn’t put his shoes back on until he drops Jeno off in the Anthro classroom, and while Jeno pulls up his left sock to cover his ankle, he thinks that maybe he doesn’t really miss Donghyuck’s company all that much.)
Chenle usually keeps himself up pretty naturally, but it’s kind of hard to do so when you’re a newcomer and have the least useful power out of all your friends.
Well, technically he’s not that new anymore, considering he’s known Jisung long enough to find out where the younger always hides his candy stash (he’s pretty predictable, Chenle doesn’t even need to discreetly ask Renjun in Chinese). He’s known Jaemin long enough to have the older care for him as if he was one of his own, he’s known Donghyuck long enough to recognize his screaming voice whenever and wherever (the only one that rivals his own), he’s known Jeno long enough to realize that he doesn’t actually talk that much unless provoked, and he’s known Mark long enough to grow enough audacity to call him a nerd right in front of his face (Mark never minds when it’s him).
He also knows Jaehyun, the older guy who lives right next to his house and ruffles his hair whenever Chenle drops by to help him water his garden, and he also knows that there’s another Chinese pair down the street of his and Renjun’s block: Kun and his cousin Sicheng, who don’t go out much but always wave to them from the window (Kun) and talk to them excitedly when they do meet on the street (Sicheng). There’s also Taeil, and Yeri, and Doyoung, and Jungwoo, and even though Chenle doesn’t know them personally, he knows they’re there and they know he’s here. He’s really not new anymore, not really.
He’s not new, but he still feels like he is, sometimes. And when he watches his friends do things – Mark stopping his pencil from rolling down the table without moving a finger, Donghyuck showing him good ice cream places without opening his mouth, Jaemin giving him a hug when he hasn’t said anything about how bad his day went, Jeno catching a lizard for him, and even Jisung, who will sometimes take them out in the middle of a boring class – he feels amazed, and also a bit envious. Not sometimes, this time. It’s everytime.
It’s not the bitter kind of envious, either, not the kind that makes you hate them. It’s the resigned kind of envy, which makes you feel less than you really are. It’s not them, it’s you. There’s probably something in him that just, he doesn’t know, likes to shine more than move things with his mind, maybe?
He tries to keep things down, but Jaemin’s magic touch exists.
“You’re not useless,” Jaemin says, out of nowhere, when they’re both sitting under Chenle’s bedroom window in the garden. Jisung is running away from Jeno with something in his hand – probably Jeno’s house keys – while Donghyuck is perched on a tree branch, humming contently. Beneath said tree is Renjun, laying flat on his back with a book over his face. Mark is playing with the koi in the pond. It’s a balmy transition day between summer to fall.
Chenle blinks. “What?”
Then he sees that Jaemin’s naked arm is pressed against his, and he sighs. So that’s what.
“You’re really not,” Jaemin says again, smiling when Chenle refuses to look at him. “We all think you’re awesome, Chenle. Especially Jisung. Kid just doesn’t want to say it.”
A long pause as Chenle plays with his fingers, all in the warm quietness that would just be so awkward if it wasn’t shared with Jaemin. Jaemin doesn’t make things awkward. Ever. At least with him.
“Okay then,” Chenle says, even if he doesn’t trust his words completely. Jaemin just laughs and moves his hand to massage the back of Chenle’s neck. He knows he can’t actually feel Jaemin’s power, but he swears he can feel his emotions leaving his body for awhile before coming back in, just like a boomerang.
“Do you want me to make him fess up?” Jaemin offers, and Chenle gapes at him.
“Fess up what?”
“You know, how much he appreciates you,” Jaemin says, shrugging. “Just like how much you appreciate him.”
Chenle actually considers this. “No, it’s fine. I know he loves me.”
“Good. I love you, too. We love you, too.”
Jaemin’s hand leaves his neck, and Chenle smiles a little brighter when Jisung walks over to him, sweaty but satisfied because he’s managed to fulfill his daily quota of pissing Jeno off.
He knows he’s refused Jaemin’s offer earlier, but the older definitely tattled, because when Jisung spends the night over at his place the next day, he slips underneath Chenle’s covers in the middle of the night.
“What?” Chenle murmurs, voice heavy with sleep and confusion alike.
“It’s cold,” Jisung whispers, shifting around and placing his honestly too-long limbs around Chenle. “Can you glow?”
Chenle wants to tell him just turn on the freaking heater, but he doesn’t. Instead he keeps quiet and focuses on Jisung’s steady breathing, and feels warmth slowly seep over from his skin to his heart, down to the tips of his fingers and his toes.
When he wakes up the morning after, Jisung is still there, and he’s still glowing.