Archive of Our Own

Formal.

Renjun should be out enjoying himself, instead, he’s organising the dessert drop, making sure everything is running smoothly. He’s been to other formals before, had his fun. Now it’s time to make sure the night is enjoyable for everyone else.

“Dance with me,” Lucas says, coming out of nowhere and grabbing Renjun by the hand. He’s young enough to get away with it, charming enough that it doesn’t at all bother the event coordinator that Renjun speaks with.

“I’m busy,” Renjun replies, yanking his grip free, turning to apologise to the coordinator---

Who has since walked away.

Incredible.

“Okay,” Renjun sighs, fixing Lucas with a glare. “Maybe I’m not that busy.”

“One dance,” Lucas holds up a single finger. “It’s what dates do, right?”

“You’re not my date,” Renjun grumbles, but allows himself to be pulled over to the dance floor nonetheless.

“Funny,” Lucas pulls him into an exaggerated twirl that doesn’t match the music. “Isn’t that why I’m here, because I’m your date?”

“I needed an extra man for the bowties.”

“You just wanted me here.”

“I did not,” Renjun says, lies. “You’re the only person they’d let back in with me. I’ve used you, Lucas, I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“Fuck off, as if,” Lucas laughs, hugging Renjun tightly. They slow dance, awkwardly, to an upbeat pop song. “You’re happy I’m here.”

“It wouldn’t be a rainbow without red,” Renjun replies solemnly.

“You’re breaking my heart, Huang.”

Another twirl. An unimpressed glare from the religion teacher. A laugh on Renjun’s lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves Lucas off, allows himself to be dipped. “Like I’d believe that.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Lucas says, seriously. He holds Renjun in the dip, one arm around his waist, another cradling his neck. He licks his lips, before righting himself. “Sike!” he yells, before almost dropping Renjun.

“Put me down,” Renjun wriggles out of his grip. “And stop being an idiot.”

“I’m a fool for you.”

See, Renjun has always had the unfortunate habit of falling for his friends. Jaemin in year eight. Donghyuck in year ten. Mark the previous year, and he's spent the better part of three months trying to get over his one-sided affection for Jeno.

Lucas is dangerous. He has the potential to be Renjun’s next heartbreak. So, Renjun does the only thing he knows how to do: jokes his way out of affection.

“Don’t make me fall for you,” he says, elbowing Lucas in the side. He grunts as it makes contact with his ribs, something that has Renjun doubling over in laughter.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lucas wheezes.

The song fades, another upbeat top 40 hit taking its place, and Lucas draws Renjun into a hug.

“Tonight’s been fuckin’ amazing,” he says into Renjun’s hair.

“I know,” Renjun sniffs. Lucas smells like cigarettes. “I’m the one who organised it.”

“Your modesty is your best trait.”

“Fuck off,” Renjun says with a laugh, knowing that any of Lucas’ insults come without malice. “Speaking of fucking off, I really need to organise this dessert drop.”

“Go,” Lucas shoos him with his hands. “We’ll keep the party going for you.”

“Thank you,” Renjun pauses. He leans up, kissing Lucas on the cheek. “For everything.”

“Gay,” Lucas whispers.

“Duh,” Renjun with a wink.

He leaves Lucas standing awestruck in the middle of the dance floor.

Renjun is more than a little proud of himself.

------

“Fuckin’ nice,” Jaemin elbows his way into Renjun’s apartment, his one arm hug offered distractedly as he takes in the interior.

It’s a new apartment, a gift from his parents. They’ve bought out an entire building on Ann Street just because Renjun doesn’t like the small rooms in the Unilodge student accommodation.

It’s a ridiculous notion, but his parents are property investors and the building yields a high resale and rental value. The fact that it’s a literal two-minute walk from his university is just a coincidence, or so he’s told.

Sleek, modern and monochrome. Renjun can’t wait to mess it up with fabric trimmings and the sewing pins that will undoubtedly become embedded in the carpet.

“I love your parents,” Jeno sighs, following in Jaemin’s footsteps.

He holds a housewarming gift in his hands, a small potted succulent to add some colour to the blank colours of the apartment. Something pretty but also something that Renjun can’t kill. Jeno is thoughtful, as always.

“I love them too,” Renjun replies.

Honestly, they’re too much sometimes. But Renjun is nothing if not appreciative, and he’s offered to take up the role of body corporate in exchange for the apartment. Organising the cleaners, maintenance workers and general complaints of the entire building is going to take up a huge chunk of his already busy time. It’s going to be hard, but it’s the least he can do to ease the financial burden he already places on his parents.

“I think dad did the concreting here,” Jaemin mentions after a moment of thought. “He built the very foundations we’re standing on.”

“I’m moving out,” Renjun deadpans.

“Hey---”

Jaemin wrestles him onto the black leather couch in the corner of the living room, his fingers finding all of Renjun’s ticklish spots with practised precision. They’re adults now, no longer the kids they were when they first met seven years ago.

But their high school habits are hard to break, and Renjun is more than okay with the sudden rush of nostalgia. It’s only been a year and a half since graduation, but the contrast between high school and university is so stark, Renjun almost feels like a completely different person.

It’s nice to regress back into the childish, carefree persona he had back then.

Jeno and Jaemin are the first people to arrive for Renjun’s housewarming party. It’s not something he really wants to host, but it has been such a long time since they were all in the same room together. Jisung and Jaemin, unable to make Donghyuck’s birthday drinks a few weeks prior, haven’t seen the group as a whole in well over six months.

“I took a night off work to see how rich people live,” Jisung, now in year twelve, says as he joins them. Chenle follows along soon after, fresh out of class over at The University of Queensland.

“The lovebirds are on their way,” Jeno says, looking up from his phone. “They thought you lived in that hotel on Mary street, not the one on Ann street.”

“This isn’t a hotel,” Renjun sniffs.

“Nah,” Jaemin laughs, “it’s a fuckin’ supervillain’s lair.”

Renjun resists the urge to throw him off the (admittedly quite spacious) balcony.

“I’m here, the party can start now,” Lucas barrels into the room, all limbs and noise. His presence fills the entire space, which Renjun finds calming for some godforsaken reason.

(He knows what it means, he just doesn’t want to think about it)

Lucas brings with him a case of imported beer, something picked up from the German-themed bar near his work. It’s a thoughtful gesture, something that has probably taken a solid chunk out of his paycheck. He’s brought the only beer Renjun can stomach to drink, and he knows it’s not cheap.

“You shouldn’t have,” Renjun says, trailing behind Lucas as he makes a beeline for the kitchen. With the open planning of the apartment, there is no real need for a tour, no way to get lost. “No seriously, I already have booze here.”

“Yeah,” Lucas grunts as he heaves the carton onto the kitchen bench. “But I did, anyway.”

“You don’t even like this stuff,” Renjun can’t pronounce what he’s drinking. Lucas can. He’s always the one ordering when they go out.

“I’m honestly not that fussed, ay,” Lucas pulls one out, opens it using his cigarette lighter, passes it to Renjun. From the lounge, the others cheer, signalling Donghyuck and Mark’s arrival. “I’ll drink anything.”

“If you go broke trying to get me drunk then it’s your own fault,” Renjun points the bottle in Lucas’ direction.

“As if,” he replies, opening a beer for himself. “You’re drunk off two of these, easy.”

“Excuse you.”

“Cheapest drunk I’ve ever met.”

“If you didn’t buy me alcohol I’d be kicking you out,” Renjun says with a sigh. “Insulting me in my own home, the nerve.”

“You’re a cheap drunk and you love me,” Lucas retorts, “you can’t deny it.”

“Unfortunately not,” Renjun places a hand over his heart. “Apparently I’ve lost my wonderful taste in men.”

“Your taste has always been shit,” Donghyuck arrives, forgoes the greeting in lieu of insulting Renjun. He pulls him into a hug, almost knocking the beer from his hand.

Wordlessly, Lucas extracts the bottle, keeping it out of harm’s way.

The lifesaver. Beersaver?

“Yours is worse,” Renjun whispers, careful that Mark doesn’t overhear. It’s unlikely, considering the wrestling match he’s started with Jaemin on the couch, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.

“I resent that,” Donghyuck jabs his fingers into Renjun’s ribs. They sink between bone, hitting home, right where it hurts.

Renjun yelps.

“I resent you,” he replies, rubbing at the sore spot. “I’m joking,” Renjun continues as Donghyuck’s face falls. “But seriously, that hurt.”

Lucas interjects, “please don’t injure the host,” he says, “Renjun’s threatening to kick people out.”

He worms his way into Renjun’s personal space, using his shoulder as an armrest. He tries, fails, to use Renjun’s head as a makeshift table for his beer, the bottle too unstable on top of his hair. Lucas screeches, trying to catch it as it wobbles, nearly tumbling to the ground.

“That was dumb,” Donghyuck deadpans, “and you’ve got beer on Renjun’s carpet.”

It was dumb, it was kinda cute and Renjun sort of misses the weight of Lucas’ arm on his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Renjun rummages through the kitchen, trying to find a cloth.

He finds two.

One in his own hand, the other in Lucas’, they begin to scrub the beginnings of the stain from the carpet as Donghyuck laughs, back turned in retreat towards the living room.

“What a waste of good beer,” Lucas grumbles.

Renjun goes to point out that it’s his fault that there is good beer soaking into the carpet, but the thought flies out of his head the second their hands brush.

Beer-soaked and clumsy, Lucas falls back with a laugh. “I’ve got this,” he says, gesturing to the stain. “You go mingle and I’ll finish up?”

“You sure?” Renjun stands, happy to put distance between them. It’s a constant push and pull, his emotions fickle and cloudy. He wants, so desperately, for contact. For the affection that Lucas gives so freely. But he’s scared, fight or flight instincts in overdrive. Renjun indulges, then he runs.

It’s how he operates.

“Yeah,” Lucas scrubs so hard at the carpet, Renjun fears that the colour of the cloth will transfer; blue onto beige. “She’ll be right.”

Renjun nods, wordlessly. He drops his used cloth into the sink, following the sound of laughter as he runs away.

-------

The Queensland University of Technology splits its classes and students across two campuses. Garden’s Point--- located in the city and across the road from Renjun’s apartment--- and Kelvin Grove, which is a short, free-for-students bus ride away.

Ironically, most of Renjun’s classes take place on the latter campus in the famed Z-Block. Home to the arts and arts students, known for the eclectically dressed and chain-smoking young adults that congregate there.

Renjun is the middle part of an awkward venn diagram. He’s friends with the arts kids, part of the Queer Collective, hands out smokes to broke students whenever he’s around Z-Block. But he’s also known to the other international students, his acquaintances studying medicine, business and everything in between.

And then there are his high school friends, but he doesn’t exactly have class with them. Mark goes to the same university but they spend most of their time on different campuses, rarely seeing each other. Renjun, despite being the centre of a Venn diagram, feels so left out of everything.

“Got a darb?” He’s asked, and he hands his pack over, wordlessly. Anything that’s not a hand rolled cigarette is a luxury few university students can afford, so his menthols are accepted with a gracious nod.

Renjun’s more of a social smoker. Once he’s home, the Ice Blasts in his bag remain untouched. But it’s The Thing to do as a design student, so he does it. Sometimes, it eases the stress of assignments and deadlines.

“Cheers,” the student tries to hand Renjun a two dollar coin, but is refused. He leaves with a nod of thanks, smoke curling into the air as he walks away.

Too artsy for the international students, too normal for the art kids.

As he watches the unknown student as he rounds the corner, Renjun wonders if he should have tried making a new friend.

------

While Renjun is used to living alone, he’s always had someone to at least eat with or a friend on the same floor to spend time with. Being on the top floor of an apartment building, surrounded by strangers is overwhelmingly lonely.

He should be thankful for the peace and quiet, the extra space he needs to work on his assessment pieces. His sewing machines can finally fit on his desk without having to re-arrange his entire room. If, at some point, he needs to work with large quantities of fabric, he won’t have to slave away in the school sewing rooms for the entirety of the creative process.

It should feel like freedom.

Instead, the emptiness, the silence and the space makes Rejun feel claustraphobic inside his own house. He sleeps in the lounge, keeps the TV on in the background. Something, anything to emulate the dorm room living he’s spent most of his life in.

He messages a watered down version of his problems to Donghyuck, who simply replies that he should go for a walk. It’s late, around 11pm, and Brisbane is a city that sleeps early. All the stores along the mall are closed, with the exception of a few restaurants and bars beginning their packdown.

Renjun, at a loss for anything else to do, takes Donghyuck up on his suggestion.

The atmosphere of Brisbane changes at night, Renjun notices as he walks past the brightly lit, yet hauntingly empty university campus. With little to no weekday nightlife there are few who wander the streets as he does.

Winter in Brisbane can hardly be called winter, but the evening chill has Renjun pulling the sleeves of his sweater over the tips of his fingers, shivering slightly before his body begins to warm up.

Taking his time along the Goodwill Bridge, Renjun pauses once every so often to admire the view. He quickens his pace past the War Memorial Park, because nothing good ever happens in parks after dark. He’s met with a choice upon reaching Vulture Street: turn right and head past South Bank and into West End, or right into Woolloongabba.

Renjun craves warmth, comfort, familiarity.

There is only one place within walking distance that offers it.

------

Lucas lives in an old house off Vulture street, within walking distance to Woolloongabba stadium. The location is wasted on someone who watches neither cricket nor AFL. It’s good for Lucas’ job, however, as The Norman is also located just a few blocks away.

Renjun has only been to Lucas’ share house once, and that was with Jaemin drove them.

He can only hope that he has the right house as he knocks on the door.

“Anyone expecting company?” Renjun can hear from inside the house. For a moment, he forgets that Lucas actually has to live with people.

Muffled voices serve as the background noise for Renjun’s nervousness. He should have called ahead, checked that Lucas is free and that it’s okay to---

“Renjun, hey!” The face of a surprised Lucas appears in the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting me, either,” Renjun admits, shivering in the doorway. Winter back home is colder than in Brisbane, but Renjun has acclimated. “I was out for a walk and ended up here.”

“That’s a long way to walk in the dark, mate,” Lucas frowns.

“I know,” he replies. It’s hard to explain why he’s out so late and why he’s on Lucas’ doorstep.

“Maccas run?” Lucas doesn’t question him, and for that Renjun is thankful. Lucas always knows when to offer sympathy and when to offer a trip to McDonald's, instead.

“I could go for a Happy Meal,” he says, crossing his arms across his body for warmth.

“I figured,” Lucas shrugs. He grabs his keys from the hook beside the door, pulling it closed behind him. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

It’s a five-minute walk, maximum, but Renjun is cold and appreciates the heat of Lucas’ old Hyundai. They drive the few minutes in silence, rounding one single corner before the golden arches come into view.

“We could have walked,” Renjun points out as Lucas pulls into the empty parking lot.

“You’ve done enough walking today,” he parks, yanks at the handbrake, kills the ignition. “Don’t think I’m not driving you home, either.”

“You seem upset,” Renjun says, “I’m sorry if I interrupted.”

“I’m just confused,” Lucas admits, playing nervously with his hair. “But anything that’s not packing is a welcome distraction.”

“Packing?” It’s Renjun’s turn to be confused. He wasn’t aware that Lucas has plans to move out. As far as he’s aware, Lucas loves his house and his housemates; a sweet Australian couple who work at another one of Woolloongabba’s many pubs.

“Yeah,” Lucas sighs. It’s just cold enough that his breath tints the evening air. “Our lease is up and Tay and Gaz want their own place, so I’m left to find somewhere else.”

“Fair,” Renjun says. He can sympathise with a couple wanting their own space. “But where are you gonna go?”

“Somewhere,” Lucas replies, nonchalant. “I’ll find a place.”

Renjun doesn’t doubt him. If anyone is lucky, it’s Lucas. Knowing him, the perfect house will come to him, rather than the other way around. It’s easy to see why he’s so unbothered about being potentially homeless for a while.

“I’m sure you will.”

------

As the only two members of their friend group studying at QUT, Renjun sees more of Mark than he does of anyone else. Their schedules don’t always match up; clashing classes or breaks while on different campuses, but when the stars and their schedules align, they always make time for each other.

Renjun is now in his second year of study, Mark his third. Their current semesters have more matches than clashes, so they ease the stress of university by bemoaning over Korean fried chicken at the speciality store just a short walk from QUT’s Garden City campus.

“Finals are soon,” Renjun says. He swipes a piece of chicken from towering pile, metal chopsticks slipping against the generous amount of sauce. “You ready?”

“Never,” Mark groans, resting his head on the table. One of the waitresses shoots him a concerned look as she walks past. “I have so many exams this semester.”

“Can’t relate,” Renjun replies airily.

As a fashion design student, he has approximately three exams in his entire degree. The rest of his assessments are projects, portfolios, reports. He has digital and traditional sketches to finish, patterns to make and a whole assignment on Australian owned fashion labels to complete and little to no time to finish it in.

“Yeah but you have to sew an entire gown thing in like, three days,” Mark doesn’t lift his head from the table, speaking solely into the wooden surface. “Aren’t you stressed?”

Renjun doesn’t correct him about his assessment. They don’t really talk about the intricacies of their degrees because even the basic content goes over their heads. Renjun doesn’t know shit about computers and Mark wouldn’t know a box pleat from a pintuck.

“Mum’s forcing me to take B vitamins,” Renjun confesses, “because I’m losing focus and stressed out of my mind.”

“Shit.”

Mark knows about the relationship with his parents. Good, trusting, open communication, full of secrets on Renjun’s side. It’s nothing big. He’s out to them and they’ve come around, but when he’s stressed, tired, feeling like a burden? They’re none the wiser. So if Renjun’s mother has picked up on his predicament, then it’s a bigger deal than he’s willing to admit to.

“They working?” Mark finally drags his head up from the table, but only just slightly. He looks up at Renjun, eyes hopeful. If they work for him, then maybe they can work for Mark, too.

“Not in the slightest,” Renjun laughs.

Mark groans, resting his head onto the table once more.

------

Jeno has his phone on loudspeaker, unfamiliar music filling the room. It takes three bars for Renjun to realise that it must be Centrelink that Jeno is on the phone to, and that what he’s hearing is the famed Centrelink waiting music.

“Fuck me dead,” Jaemin groans. “I’m not even on Centrelink and I’m still gonna hear this music in hell.”

“How do you think I feel?” Jeno replies, fiddling impatiently with his study notes. “I’m the one who has to deal with them.”

“You poor, poor, bastard,” Jaemin sighs, “literally. You’re on the fucking dole.”

“Your parents are paying you the same amount as an allowance,” Jeno sneers, throwing a pencil at him. “So you can’t complain about me being broke.”

For a government agency that literally hands out free money to be this hated, they must be doing something very wrong. From what Renjun understands, it’s a welfare system with multiple payment types. He’s only vaguely knowledgeable about the student payments, but that’s just from the number of times Jeno has ranted about the system.

Jaemin is not eligible for Centrelink, because the rates are dependent on his parent’s earnings. Jeno barely manages to scrape in, and while he’s thankful, he also complains almost non-stop about the entire process.

“I reported volunteer work and they’ve cut me off,” Jeno seethes, harshly underlining a passage in his readings. “I’m not even getting paid for it.”

“And now we have to listen to this,” Renjun gestures towards Jeno’s phone, still playing the awful quality, annoyingly repetitive classical music. “For how long?”

“One to two hours,” Jaemin sighs, “or roundabout?”

“I’m going to kill someone,” Renjun says slowly. “This is gonna drive me insane.”

“Again,” Jeno pokes at his phone with his highlighter. “How do you think I feel, mate?”

“You’re a brave man,” Jaemin places his hand across his chest. “Braver than me.”

Renjun manages to block out the sounds of Centrelink for the next hour and a half, working on one of the few essays in his course: pick an Australian clothing label, study their business practices.

Across the table, Jeno has his environmental science readings out, with Jaemin brushing up on his physics.

Three different degrees, two different universities. Both Jeno and Jaemin join Chenle at the University of Queensland, out in the western suburb of Saint Lucia. It’s nearby their houses and their old school, something a little more convenient for them to get to.

They still live at home with their parents, having no reason to move out. Chenle lives on campus, with plans to move out with Jisung at the end of the year. Mark and Donghyuck are already apartment hunting, trying to find something that fits both their lifestyles and their Centrelink allowances.

The music stops, the phone line ringing and Jeno scrambles to turn it off speaker. He takes his mobile, retreating to the cigarette butt riddled privacy of Renjun’s balcony.

“I’m worried about him,” Jaemin says, jerking his head in the direction of the balcony, where Jeno paces angrily, a stolen cigarette from Renjun’s pack hanging from his fingertips. “He only smokes when he’s stressed, and he’s had a darb in his mouth for a solid month.”

“It can’t be university,” Renjun comments. “Jeno’s really good at studying.”

“He’s halfway through his degree and going through a crisis,” Jaemin sighs, “a real conundrum. Did you know he’s taking French this semester?”

“Wasn’t he taking German as an elective?”

“He’s doing both.”

“Jesus,” Renjun needs a cigarette. “He’s stalling.”

Jeno overloads himself with extracurricular activities as a coping mechanism. He’s postponing his degree for some reason, taking on extra language electives to drag out the time between Present Jeno and graduation.

“We should talk to him,” Renjun continues, “figure out what’s wrong.”

“Tried it,” Jaemin sighs, closing his textbook. “He keeps avoiding the topic, starts talking about wanting to expand his horizons or some bullshit.”

“He’s got a point.”

“He’s full of shit,” Jaemin points out. “And he’s on his third darb of the arvo,” he gestures vaguely towards the balcony with his pen. “Cunt’s smoking more than I do.”

It’s a concern, definitely. Jaemin, despite being a future doctor, chain smokes to keep himself busy while studying. Meanwhile, Renjun has his image as a design student to upkeep and a preference for menthols that has become somewhat part of his identity.

Jeno has spent the last year and a half complaining about the number of cigarette butts that end up in the stormwater drains around Brisbane city.

“He’ll figure himself out,” Renjun says after a moment, at a loss for ways to help their friend in his obvious time of crisis. “He always does.”

“I guess,” Jaemin shrugs, “I won’t stop worrying about the bastard, though.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Renjun worries about all of his friends. Life after high school is definitely taking its toll on all of them, their crisis’ ranging from financial to academic to quarter life. The only person he isn’t worried about is Lucas, who seems to be in the biggest crisis of all.

“Mate,” Jaemin drawls, once up-to-date on Lucas’ housing woes. “Just have him crash here if you’re so worried.”

Admittedly, the thought has crossed Renjun’s mind. More than once. It would be nice to have a housemate, especially one with as much of a presence as Lucas. He’s just wary of the way he feels around Lucas; too safe, too comfortable, his heart beating double time in his chest. The swooping sensation in his stomach, the shaking of his hands.

It’s a crush. Full blown and stubborn.

Having Lucas around more frequently would be both wonderful and terrible at the same time; something to fan the flames of his feelings, but also increase the achingly one-sided nature of it all.

“Maybe,” Renjun hums.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Jaemin chews on the end of his pen. “And I know you, which means you should talk to me about it, but you’re not gonna.”

“Lucas is hot,” Renjun bemoans. Jaemin is right, he really doesn’t like to talk about his problems. And he’s not, in a way. He’s discussing the physical appearance of his friend, not the way Lucas’ smile makes him feel.

“Well fuck, you’re not wrong,” Jaemin laughs, “that’s your issue? He’s a bit of alright and you want on it?”

“Something like that.”

“Who does Renjun want on?” The balcony door opens, closes, wafts the smell of cigarette smoke into the apartment for the briefest of seconds.

“Lucas,” Jaemin supplies, “like the rest of us.”

“He’s hot,” Jeno shrugs, resuming his place at the table. “I don’t blame you.”

“See?” Jaemin nudges at Renjun’s arm. “Not a big deal.”

He’s wrong, but it’s not like Renjun hasn’t had crushes on his friends before. It’s not like he’s spent the entire time knowing them with varying levels of feelings for them.

They don’t know about it and they may never will. Nothing lingers, and Renjun gets over his crushes quickly, easily.

He resumes his essay, Jeno and Jaemin bickering in the background, with the knowledge that his crush is fleeting and that he’ll find someone new and shiny in no time.

Renjun can only hope that it’s sooner rather than later.

Being in love sucks.

------

Renjun is a habitual person, his life filled with schedule and tradition. As such, he’s always at Lucas’ work for dinner on a Friday night. Lucas isn’t there, usually, because he tends to work the morning shifts. But both the food and atmosphere is good and the staff know his order by heart.

His choice of companion changes depending on the week, because sometimes it’s date night for Mark and Donghyuck, who take time out of their busy schedules, just for each other. Jisung usually has work, but on occasion, he has the night off. Jeno and Jaemin are mostly broke or studying, but they come along when they can.

The only constant is Chenle, who is as unemployed and as cashed up as Renjun is. The only problem is his age; he’s not eighteen for another five months, and he spends most of their dinner dates staring forlornly at Renjun’s choice of cocktail.

“Soon,” he whispers, stroking the side of Renjun’s martini glass. “Soon, you will be mine.”

“Stop that,” Renjun slaps his hand away. “It’s illegal for you to even look at it.”

“Bite me,” Chenle pokes his tongue out in mockery. “You can’t lecture me about underage drinking.”

“But I can,” Sicheng says, stopping by their table while on his rounds. He yanks the glass away from Chenle’s curious fingers, placing it on the opposite side of the table. “Do you know how much the fine is if you’re caught here?”

“Too much for you to afford?” Chenle drawls. They’ve heard the spiel before.

“Unless you wanna pay for it, you can drink where I can’t see you,” Sicheng huffs, clearing Chenle’s empty Lemon Lime and Bitters glass.

“Great,” Chenle makes a grab for the cocktail once more. “Where are the bathrooms, again?”

“Not what I meant, you little shit,” Sicheng snatches the glass from his hands. Renjun laughs at their back and forth. No matter how many times he’s seen it, the whole routine is still funny.

“I almost don’t want him to turn eighteen,” Renjun says through his laughter.

“I do,” Sicheng sighs.

“First thing I’m doing as an eighteen-year-old is throwing my ID at Yuta’s face,” Chenle swoons, “and then I’m getting him to make me a cocktail.”

“Just buy your own Passion Pop like the rest of us did,” Sicheng rolls his eyes.

“I’m too classy for Passion Pop.”

“Just drink your shitty wine and enjoy your youth,” Sicheng calls out over his shoulder, meandering off to do his job.

“Hospitality has aged him,” Chenle sighs, shaking his head. “He’s barely graduated and he’s acting like an old man.”

“Something to look forward to,” Renjun cocks an eyebrow.

Chenle is studying an International Hotel and Tourism degree at UQ. He’ll end up the boss of people like Sicheng, but he’s still going into the industry.

“Er, about that,” Chenle starts, “I’m swapping degrees next semester.”

Chenle was studying International Hotel and Tourism. Once his semester ends, he’s been approved for a transfer across into the business faculty, about to start his double degree in Arts and Business, with a major in International Relations and Translation.

A good choice, honestly. Chenle is great with interpersonal relations, likeable but able to stand his ground. Being able to formally translate is a great addition to his skills, as well. He’s got a bright future ahead of him, one built on solid and well thought out plans.

Renjun wishes he were the same.

“Congrats,” Renjun says, honestly. “I think that’s a good path for you.”

“I’ll leave the running of hotels to Jisung,” Chenle says. “I think he’ll be better at it.”

Jisung, who skips school to sit in on Chenle’s lectures, is ready to apply for the hotel program once he graduates. He’s had a job at the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre for around a year, and the kid loves his work so much, they’re all expecting him to skip his own formal in order to cater the event.

Renjun is so, so proud of him.

“Any plans once you’re done?” Chenle says, accepting his new glass of Lemon, Lime and Bitters from Sicheng. “Gonna go home or?”

“I want PR,” Renjun admits. Chenle’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. Getting permanent residency status in Australia is difficult, time-consuming and expensive. He has so many hoops to jump through if he wants the papers, years of commitment to prove he’s in the country for the long run.

“Wow,” Chenle breathes.

“I want to go to NIDA,” Renjun continues.

“Isn’t that insanely hard to get into?”

“I want a boyfriend,” Renjun sighs, finally, taking a small sip from his drink.

“This is a lot to take in,” Chenle holds up a hand. “You want to stay here forever, move to Sydney to kill yourself with stress and you’re having a hard time picking between all the people who want to date you?”

“No one wants to date me,” Renjun pauses, looks at his glass and downs the whole thing in one. From the bar, he can hear Yuta cheering him on. “But that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“You’re an idiot,” Chenle supplies, unhelpfully. “But you’re my idiot and I’m going to support your plans, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Renjun breathes a sigh of relief. He knows his friend will all support him no matter what, but they all have their own stresses to worry about. Venting isn’t really his thing, but it’s nice to get some things off his chest.

“But the boyfriend thing,” Chenle continues, “have you ever… you know… thought about Lucas?”

“What?” Renjun chokes.

He thinks about Lucas, almost constantly. Hardly a day goes by where he doesn’t think about him.

“He’d be a good boyfriend, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Gross,” Renjun says, weakly and without conviction.

“Interesting,” is all Chenle says in reply.

Sicheng delivers their food and the topic is dropped.

It plagues Renjun’s mind, well into the night.

-------

He knows it’s coming. If the thought has been in Renjun’s mind, suggested by their friends, then surely it’s been an option that Lucas has been considering. So when he gets the call, Renjun is completely unsurprised.

“I need a somewhere to crash,” Lucas says sheepishly. He sips at his bubble tea, cigarette dangling from long fingers. “Not forever, just until I can find a place.”

“And you want to stay with me?” Renjun mirrors him, watching the bustling crowd from his vantage point at King George Square.

A classic hang out spot for Brisbane locals, the square is a ten-minute walk from Renjun’s apartment. Grabbing tea on the way, it’s a nice, easy place for a conversation.

“If you don’t mind?” Lucas is suddenly sheepish. “I have other options, you’re just my favourite.”

The tension in Renjun’s chest increases.

Favourite.

He’s Lucas’ favourite.

“Stay as long as you need,” Renjun takes a drag from his cigarette, appearing calmer and collected than he feels. “Just watch out for pins in the carpet.”

“I’ll do that,” Lucas nods, “and I’ll pay rent.”

“Keep your money,” Renjun waves him off. “Save it for your bond or something.”

“I’ll cook for you, then?” Lucas seems adamant about paying Renjun back, not knowing, not understanding that his presence is payment enough.

Renjun tells him so, and is met with an embarrassed laugh.

“You really feel that way?”

“Yeah,” Renjun breathes, “I like having you around.”

“I like being around.”

“Then you can be around as long as you need,” Renjun smiles. He feels the need to do something to accompany his words. An action, a gesture. He stares at Lucas’ hands, the urge to reach out and take one of them rising.

Lucas, too seems expectant. Unnaturally serious, just for one moment, before he breaks into a laugh.

“I’m still doing the cooking,” he says.

Renjun thinks he can deal with that.

-------

The QUT library has a section of the building open 24/7. Barely guarded, it’s a good place for people to study during exam time crunch, filled with people trying to finish assignments and cramming for their upcoming tests.

Donghyuck, despite being a Griffith University student, is a rather frequent patron of the facility. Sometimes his date night with Mark is spent cuddled up on one of the couches, going over readings while Mark plays with his hair.

Renjun knows that Donghyuck spends his Sunday nights there on occasion, is aware that tonight is one of those Sundays. With only a few short minutes walk from the library to Renjun’s apartment, he’s ready to help with the multiple crises’ that Renjun currently faces.

“What have you done?”

Donghyuck is someone that Renjun won’t hesitate to vent to. A habit made in year twelve, deep and meaningful conversations during house parties, their therapeutic conversations have continued on into their adult life.

Sometimes with alcohol, sometimes without, their little chats are something that Renjun holds dear.

“Lucas is moving in,” Renjun says. His house is a mess, fabric and patterns everywhere. Renjun ducks down, picking a pin from the carpet as Donghyuck removes his shoes. There are sure to be more of them hidden throughout the house.

“And I’m freaking out.”

“I thought deadlines were freaking you out?” Donghyuck tiptoes around the sewing mess on the floor, making his way to the couch where Renjun sits in his panic.

“Both are freaking me out,” he corrects. He’s so stressed that he’s sewn a French Seam inside out. He sits, with shaking hands, unpicking the damage.

“Pause, drink something that isn’t V and talk to me,” Donghyuck grabs the energy drink from Renjun’s reach and moves it, before gently taking the half-sewn blouse from his hands.

“This shit is due in the morning,” Renjun buries his head in his hands. “Lucas comes over after his shift and I’ve got maintenance people coming over in the afternoon to make sure the elevator is up to standard.”

“And then?” Donghyuck prompts. He moves, heading for the kitchen and rummaging around for tea-making equipment.

“I’ve got the window cleaners in the day after, which I also have to be here for, but I’ve got class at nine,” Renjun babbles, grabbing for his blouse for something to do with his hands. “And Lucas will still be living in my house, all hot and loveable and shit.”

“I can be here for the window cleaners,” Donghyuck says. He measures out one spoon of sugar, frowns, adds another two.

“Thank you,” Renjun replies in relief. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m the best friend you’ve ever had,” Donghyuck singsongs, traipsing through the house with two cups of tea in his hands. “I’m even going to ignore the bit about Lucas, for now.”

“Much appreciated,” Renjun takes a sip of his tea, grimacing at the sweetness. “But I don’t take sugar in my tea.”

“You do now,” Donghyuck says, “if tea can’t fix your problems, then you didn’t add enough sugar.”

“Way to sound like a grandma.”

“Fuck you,” Donghyuck laughs, “my grandma was the one who told me that.”

“So,” Renjun puts aside his dislike, sips thankfully at his tea. “What sugar scale are my problems at right now?”

“You’ve got yourself a solid three sugar problem here,” Donghyuck nods sagely. “Also I was cosy in the library, so it’s revenge for interrupting.”

“Mark’s still there?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck hums, bringing the mug to his lips. “But he’ll head over once we’ve sorted everything out.”

“What’s left to sort?” Renjun is halfway through his awful tea, but he’s starting to like it.

“The maintenance people and Lucas,” Donghyuck counts off on his fingers. “I feel like I’ve answered your question there. Get Lucas to let them in.”

“You weren’t gonna mention him,” Renjun whines.

“I lied,” he shrugs, “Spill, Renjun, what’s up with Lucas?”

“He’s hot.”

“We’ve established that.”

“He’s....” Renjun trails off. “I like him?”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Donghyuck places a hand over his heart.

“It’s fine!” Renjun says, mostly for his own benefit, “I get over my crushes really quickly.”

“I’m still both flattered and insulted, by the way,” Donghyuck, the only one privy to the history of Renjun’s feelings, replies as he always does.

He knows because Renjun is also his support system, the person he vents his frustration to. Renjun has always been there for him, and always will be.

“I’m an idiot,” Renjun says, resisting the urge to scream into his half-finished blouse. “I should have said no.”

“Maybe living with him will kill off your feelings or some shit?” Donghyuck says before finishing his tea.

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“But what if it does?”

“But what if,” Renjun says slowly, “what if it makes it worse?”

Donghyuck’s phone lights up with a notification, “then you drown yourself in pizza,” he says, “Mark’s on his way and he’s ordering as we speak.”

“I love him,” Renjun sighs.

“Me too,” Donghyuck replies, shyly. “Like, a lot.”

“Disgusting,” Renjun laughs.

“Can we crash here tonight?” Donghyuck continues, “we can keep you company while you sew?”

“It’s too late to take the bus,” Renjun nods. “Don’t want you getting mugged or something.”

The buses are still running, they have other ways home if they’re not. Brisbane is also a safe city, with little to no chance of a late night robbery. It’s a thinly veiled attempt to calm Renjun down and keep him calm, and it’s appreciated.

He’s still stressed, still taking on more than he can handle. But he’s got his friends, he’s got pizza, and it’s enough to ease it.

Just for a night.

-------

Renjun leaves home after half an hour’s worth of sleep, catching the free bus from Gardens Point to Kelvin Grove, garment bag in hand. Mark sticks around to let Lucas in, after a brief panic on Renjun’s behalf because he hasn’t handed over a key, yet. Donghyuck kisses Mark on the cheek as he leaves for his own 9am class and Renjun hates how much he wants something similar.

Classes are a sleep deprived blur that Renjun will have to catch up on, later. Barely paying attention, his focus lies on his phone, waiting to hear that something has gone wrong back at the apartments.

He receives no such message.

His phone is completely silent the entire day.

Renjun doesn’t even receive a message from Lucas, which is especially strange considering the amount they talk on any given day.

5pm and Renjun walks home from the bus stop, filled with anxiety. Something is wrong and he knows it. The elevator ride takes longer than he remembers, it feels like forever between the bus stop and the front door.

Strangely, he can smell food cooking from within his apartment. He knows it’s Lucas, he’s just wondering where he found the ingredients. Renjun, famously, only eats take out or things he can microwave. There’s nothing in his house that can serve as the components for something that smells so delicious.

“I was gonna shout us Maru,” Renjun says, referring to the Korean restaurant they tend to frequent. He pads through the house and into the kitchen. Lucas works over the stove, barefoot and topless despite the cold, a tea towel slung over his shoulder.

He looks incredible in his element, the swooping sensation in his stomach so intense it nearly knocks him over.

“I bought us groceries,” Lucas looks over his shoulder, smiling brightly at Renjun. “You can’t live off take out.”

“Watch me,” Renjun takes a seat at the breakfast bar, watching as Lucas prepares their noodles. The whole kitchen is a mess, various ingredients everywhere. It looks like Lucas has been cooking all day, and it wouldn’t surprise Renjun if he had.

“Not while I’m here.”

“You cook all day,” he points out. “Why cook at home when you’re cooking at work?”

“Why do you sew clothes that aren’t part of your degree?” Lucas asks, plating up their dinner. He’s obviously a chef and not a waiter, his handling of the bowls awkward and clumsy.

“Because I want to,” Renjun digs in, delighted. “Because I need the practice.”

“Ah,” Lucas hums loudly. It’s been less than twenty minutes and he’s already filling Renjun’s life with light and noise. “See, I’m the same.”

He gets it, he really does. But when Renjun spends all day sewing, he wants to come home and rest. He wouldn’t work on a ball gown all day and then come home to make Lucas a pair of sweatpants.

(Although he feels he might have to, now)

“I like to cook,” Lucas proclaims, “and I like you,” Renjun’s heart beats double time. “So I’m gonna cook for you, yeah?”

“I like you too,” Renjun says softly. Lucas looks at him so fondly. “And I like your cooking.”

“Then we’re set, then,” he says, taking his seat next to Renjun at the bar. “I cook, you eat.”

Renjun laughs. “Deal,” he says, shaking Lucas’ hand.

It’s been half an hour.

Renjun hopes that Lucas never leaves.

------

Sydney, New South Wales.

The place that Renjun would rather be.

For most Australians, the city of dreams is Melbourne. But for Renjun, it seems that a move to Sydney is in his best interests.

Purely because of the study options.

NIDA, the National Institute of Dramatic Arts, is located in Sydney and hosts Renjun’s dream degree. It’s a time-consuming course with a low acceptance rate, his skills with a sewing machine not quite up to scratch for the demanding nature of the course.

It’s something he’ll think about in another two years, once he’s finished his current degree and spoken to his parents about the possibility of continuing his studies.

As an international student, his fees cost the same amount per semester that local students pay for an entire degree. He needs to take and pass the IELTS test and get a good score in order to apply. Easy, but a hoop he’s not looking forward to jumping through.

Most importantly, he needs to leave the city he’s spent the past seven years in, leave his friends and the comforts of home. It’s a big step, something he wants to do but doesn’t want to do alone.

It’s a goal he works towards, nonetheless.

The stress of moving, of leaving.

Well, that can wait.

------

Renjun doesn’t really have hobbies that don’t pertain to his degree. He likes to walk, go urban exploring on occasion, but it’s not something he does often.

Not until Lucas picks up on it.

Once his semester finishes and he has time to spare, Lucas takes him through the streets of Brisbane city every evening as a post-dinner stroll. It’s still cold, so the idea is terrible, but it’s fun and the company is good.

Renjun finds himself looking forward to it.

Their route for the night involves Eagle Street Pier, looking at the city lights across the Brisbane River and strolling along the boardwalk. It also involves, as per Lucas’ suggestion, a trip to Kangaroo Point.

“That’s forever away,” Renjun whines, clinging onto Lucas' arm. “It’s on the other side of the river.”

“City Cat?” Lucas suggests, pointing to the boat pulling into the pier. “Loser shouts the Uber home!”

He sprints off without warning, arms flailing and filling the air with childish shrieks. Renjun laughs and follows along after, a slower jog because he’s going to lose, anyway, but doesn’t want to miss the ferry.

His Go Card already out by the time he reaches the end of the pier, he taps on, joining Lucas on the too cold deck.

“You’re insane,” he says as the ferry departs, Lucas hanging over the railing. The Translink worker inside watches them warily, just in case Lucas tries to do something stupid, like jump off the front of the boat.

“I’m fun.”

“You’re wonderful,” Renjun replies, unable to help himself.

It’s been a month since Lucas has moved in, and his little crush has turned into a big one, the feelings blooming instead of withering away.

“You keep saying things like that,” Lucas laughs, uncomfortable. “Why?”

“I’m just telling the truth.”

Renjun, cold and yearning, loops his arm through Lucas’, cuddling into his side. He’s not pushed away, a victory.

“I’d tell the truth, but I think you already know it,” Lucas says, voice uncharacteristically quiet, serious. Renjun likes when he’s like this, the other side of his personality not often seen. He feels honoured that Lucas trusts him enough to be vulnerable. “You’re not too bad, yourself.”

The ferry pulls into the dock at Kangaroo Point and Lucas’ switch flips. He grabs Renjun by the wrist, dragging him off the boat and back onto land. Barely remembering to tap his Go Card as he leaves, Lucas laughs loudly into the abandoned streets.

Renjun can’t help but join him.

But he also can’t help but wish that Lucas had taken his hand, instead.

------

Renjun arrives home to noise. Which is strange, considering the fact that Lucas is only loud when other people are around and almost completely silent when left to his own devices. Which means there are people in his house that aren’t him.

He’s completely forgotten about Lucas’ work friends.

Renjun has been out all day, celebrating the end of exams and assessment with various members of his friend group, cafe hopping through the city and strolling through Southbank. Lucas, on a rare day off, has slept in; much needed rest before his big night.

The convenient location means it’s prime real estate for pre-drinks, Lucas’ friends coming over with their craft beers and cider before heading out later.

“Renjun!” Sicheng calls out as Renjun walks into the noise. He’s careful not to spill his drink as he pats the empty spot on the couch. “Saved you a seat!”

“He’s back,” Yuta says, “finally.”

Kun and Taeil wave with their free hands as a greeting, while Lucas is nowhere to be found.

“You coming out with us?” Sicheng asks as Renjun takes a seat. He’s offered several bottles of beer, but instead chooses to steal from Sicheng’s collection of ciders.

“Am I invited?” Renjun’s up for it, just so long as he’s not intruding. The group often talks about work, but he’s there often enough that he knows--- vaguely--- what they’re talking about. He won’t feel too left out, and knowing Lucas, they’ll make friends at whatever bar they’re going to.

“Sure,” Sicheng shrugs. “The grandpas are too old for clubbing, so I think we’re picking a pub and getting a feed.”

“I resent that,” Taeil sniffs.

“I suggest Dunda,” Yuta adds.

“We’re not doing Dunda,” Kun groans. “Sicheng’s right, I’m too old for Dunda.”

Dunda, the affectionate nickname for the Down Under Bar & Grill, is a popular place amongst Brisbane youth and backpackers alike. Though no one wants to admit it, the cheap alcohol and wild stories that come from the establishment are the main parts of the draw.

Renjun has been to Dunda exactly once, and he doesn’t remember a thing. In fact, he isn’t aware of a single person who actively remembers a full night at the bar, which is telling of the kind of place it is.

“I’m also gonna veto Dunda,” Lucas appears from the bedroom he’s claimed, dressed in smart casual and looking unfairly handsome. “And I’m gonna propose the German Club.”

While the drinks at the German Club aren’t cheap, they are strong. The food is fatty and made from all the carbs Renjun tends to crave while he’s drunk and their black forest cake is to die for.

“I’m gonna second GC,” Renjun raises his hand. He’s going to have to change if he’s going out, everyone in the group dressed nicely, he feels out of place in his jeans and hoodie.

“So you’re in, then?” Sicheng nudges him, speaking quietly as the others start to interrogate Lucas on his choice of outfit.

“Yeah,” Renjun nods. Someone brings up the point of the German Club’s dress code, which has Lucas huffing.

“Why are you wearing your good gear?” Yuta laughs, “they’re literally a no shoes, no shirt, no service kinda place.”

“What’s wrong with lookin’ nice?” Lucas asks, heading into the kitchen for more alcohol.

“I’m gonna change, too,” Renjun says in Lucas’ defence. But there is an opportunity for a bit of harmless sledging, so he’s going to join in. “But I’m not gonna look like Lucas, that’s for sure.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with how I look!” Lucas calls out, “Youse cunts are just mad jealous.”

“Oh god he’s gone bogan,” Yuta shudders.

“Youse is not a word, Lucas!” Taeil corrects him.

“I’m still not used to hearing ‘cunt’ as an affectionate term,” Sicheng whispers and Renjun has to agree. “But you should go get changed, we need to head off.”

It’s definitely time to go, Renjun agrees.

He slinks off to change out of his clothes, laughing as Kun wrestles a bottle of rum from Lucas’ hands.

God forbid he suggests shots.

------

“... and,” Lucas pauses, does a count of his friends in his head. “Six shots of Mountain Fire.”

The bartender pauses, raises an eyebrow. “Alright,” he says, getting to work.

“It’s barely half past six,” Renjun groans.

The German Club is filled with an eclectic mix of people. Elderly couples, families with young children, groups of young people looking for a good time. They all converge in the ageing club, a building first established in the 19th Century. The interior is filled with all sorts of German paraphernalia, but with an indescribably Australian atmosphere about it.

It’s one of Renjun’s favourite places, and one of the reasons why he’s decided to join the group on their drinking adventures.

“Mountain Fire already?” Taeil has to stand on his toes to link an arm around Lucas’ shoulder, the other hand clutching a full pint of beer.

“You know it!”

“That shit is poison,” Kun groans.

“Says the person drinking dark lager,” Yuta mumbles. The bartender, back with the shots, overhears and offers a frown.

“Best beer in the house, mate,” he says, gingerly placing a small wooden paddle full of shots onto the counter.

He rattles off their total, something outrageous, even for Australian prices. Imports are expensive, alcohol taxed to the point of doubled prices. Taeil’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head, so Renjun hands over his credit card with a sigh.

“This is why we bring you along,” Yuta laughs, taking a shot from the board before downing it. He ignores Lucas’ outraged cry, flags down a different bartender and orders another.

“And that’s why we can’t take you anywhere,” Taeil huffs, before taking two shots and handing one to Renjun. “Down the hatch, kid. It’s better to be drunk around Yuta than sober.”

“Aint that the truth,” Kun slides in, swipes a glass of the vibrant red liquid and promptly dumps the entire thing into his pint. He raises an eyebrow, challenging anyone to comment, before he walks away, sipping at the concoction.

“He’s gone mad,” Yuta says, offering his shot glass in cheers. “Years in hospitality does that to you.”

“I fear for the future,” Lucas replies, solemnly, one hand grasping his shot and the other pressed over his heart. “But for now, it’s time to drink and forget.”

The liquid burns as Renjun swallows, living up to the fire in its name. But the aftertaste is almost nostalgic, like the lollies he used to steal from Coles after school. The adult taste of childhood rebellion, 56% alcohol to ensure he’s got something to regret come morning.

The sound of music drowns out his thoughts, already dulled by the sudden intake of alcohol. Hands grope at his pockets, Lucas searching for the cigarettes he knows are hidden beneath the denim.

“Smoker’s area?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. It’s still cold out, especially now that the sun is down. Renjun is dressed for the indoors, the dance floor, the oncoming haze of drunkenness. But Lucas, so happy, so enthusiastic about everything, has a contagious type of joy that Renjun can’t help but subscribe to.

“Sure,” he says.

Lucas takes his wrist, not his hand.

Renjun can only hope that there are outdoor heaters.

------

Government advertisements want people to believe that smoking is anything but social. But in the right place at the right time, the smoker’s area is the only place to make friends. Renjun lends a lighter, gets drawn into conversation, is suddenly on a first name basis with the bar’s middle-aged regulars.

He’s lost the rest of the group he came with; some off ordering food, Yuta dragging Sicheng to the dance floor after a few more shots. Lucas disappears to the bathroom and doesn’t come back for over half an hour.

It’s fine, it’s what happens when drinking. Renjun has everyone’s numbers if the need arises and his new friends have been nothing if not welcoming. He’s fed shots, offered pints of the beer he can’t pronounce, treated like a broke university student rather than someone with more money than he knows what to do with.

Kun joins them after a while, his pint of dark lager deeming him worthy company. He’s a little worse for wear; hair out of place, sticking to the light amount of sweat on his forehead.

“Yuta’s trying to dance battle inside,” he offers, cigarette hanging from his lips. Nodding in greeting to the rest of the table, he rummages around in his jacket pocket, searching for a lighter.

“Where’s everyone else?” Renjun passes his own lighter over, pastel blue, one he stole from Jaemin.

“Dancing, doing shots,” a flick, a flame and Kun exhales a plume of smoke. “Lucas is playing pool with the chefs.”

“And how’s that working out for him?” Renjun is only mildly interested. They have the full attention of the rest of the table, politely waiting for a chance to join the conversation.

“He could use a good luck charm, I think,” Kun smiles, almost knowingly. “Or some arm candy.”

One of them snorts, the others holler.

Renjun rolls his eyes.

“There is nothing I can do to save him,” he sighs dramatically. Finishing the last of his drink, he stands on wobbly legs. “But he could probably use another drink.”

“Get one for me, would ya?” Kun raises his own glass, all but a few sips away from empty.

Renjun flips him off as he heads inside.

------

Lucas loses spectacularly, but it doesn’t seem to be an issue. He laughs loudly, fondly, looping his arm around the shoulders of his new chef friends. They share some sort of industry borne solidarity, a friendship formed through commonality and with the ease of alcohol.

Renjun feels a little worse for wear and Lucas doesn’t seem to be faring any better. With half an hour until the bar closes, Renjun forgoes the beer that suddenly isn’t too appealing in exchange for water ---two--- and hopes that Lucas is ready to head home.

Not that it’s an issue if he’s not, but Renjun kinda hopes that Lucas will at least take him home.

“Here,” he says, a pint glass of iced water in hand. “Drink.”

One of the chefs boos good naturedly. Lucas smiles sheepishly and takes the water from his hands.

“You’re the best,” he says, before downing the whole thing in one.

“Home time,” Renjun says, swaying a little on his feet. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“And that’s me, I’m afraid,” he sighs, over exaggerated and overacted.

“Bar’s about to close, anyway,” says another chef, shrugging good naturedly. There’s a gravy stain on his work shirt, and it bothers Renjun immensely.

“I’ll shout the Uber,” Renjun reaches into his pocket, trying to locate his phone.

Lucas stills him with a hand on his arm. “Let’s walk,” he says.

It could be a good opportunity, the walk home. With the cold, they could huddle together. Maybe the alcohol in his veins will give Renjun the courage he needs to hold Lucas’ hand; something he can pass off as a drunken need for affection if questioned later. Maybe---

“I might throw up if we take a car,” Lucas says sheepishly.

--- Maybe not.

------

Renjun wakes up with a hangover to end all hangovers, but it’s to the smell of bacon and other greasy goodness, so he can’t complain. He walks into the kitchen, where empty shopping bags litter the counter and Lucas works his magic by the stove, Gatorade in hand.

“Good morning,” he rasps, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. He yawns, winces, rummages around in the bags for the extra Gatorade he knows Lucas has bought for him.

“Purple’s in the fridge,” Lucas gestures towards Renjun’s large, fancy refrigerator. Until he moved in, it had been largely unused, now filled with all sorts of food; ingredients and leftovers. Renjun’s even bought a lunchbox to take to university when it starts back up, now that he has food to take with him.

“That’s my favourite,” he rummages around, finds the bottle, pops it open and downs half in one go. His stomach churns, before settling into hunger. “How did you know?”

“I’m perceptive,” Lucas winks over his shoulder, before turning back to the eggs he’s poaching on the stove. “Also you’ve told me.”

“Watcha cookin’?”

Renjun must still be a little drunk because he cosies up to Lucas’ side, grips his t-shirt, buries his face against Lucas’ shoulder. To his credit, Lucas takes it all in his stride, wrapping his free arm around Renjun’s waist and poking at the eggs with a spoon.

“Eggs benedict,” he replies after a moment, as if remembering that Renjun has asked him a question. “With bacon.”

“I was gonna do a Maccas run,” Renjun admits sheepishly, his usual hangover cure of McDonald’s seems so lacklustre in comparison to the amazing food Lucas has decided to cook. “But this sounds better.”

“It’s like, my favourite food,” he untangles himself from Renjun’s hold, ruffles his hair, moves on to make the Hollandaise Sauce from scratch. Renjun’s mouth waters.

“I’ve never had it.”

Lucas pauses mid-whisk. “What,” he says in disbelief, before remembering his task and resuming it. “I would have gone traditional if I knew that.”

“Bacon isn’t traditional?”

“Not in the slightest,” Lucas laughs, “but it’s the best. The salt really breaks through the richness of the sauce and the egg, and I’m using sourdough bread for some added flavour.”
“Sounds incredible,” Renjun sighs, “I wish you could stay here forever.”

“So do I.”

Renjun pauses for a moment, listens to the sound of cutlery as Lucas starts to plate up their meals. He looks so at home in the kitchen, Renjun’s kitchen, doing what he does best. He already feels like a member of the household, and Renjun hasn’t felt lonely since Lucas has moved in.

“Then do it,” Renjun says, the plate of eggs benedict placed in front of him. “Stay.”

“For real?” Lucas busies himself by cutting into his egg, perfectly cooked yolk cutting through the sauce and dripping onto bread. “You don’t mind?”

“You make this place feel like a home,” Renjun replies, realises how serious he sounds. Follows it up with a joke to ease the tension. “Plus, I like the idea of having a personal chef.”

“The truth comes out,” Lucas laughs, pointing his fork in Renjun’s direction. “You only want me for my cooking.”

“It’s harsh, but you’re correct,” a dramatic sigh, a hand placed over his heart. “But don’t even think about rent, okay? You can pay me through food and helping me with the body corp shit I have to do.”

“I’m already doing that,” Lucas points out. He’s on a first name basis with the window cleaners by this point.

“Exactly,” Renjun takes a bite of his eggs. It’s rich and salty, the tang of the bread and the intensity of the sauce. It’s perfect, and might just be his new favourite food. “Nothing’s gonna change.”

“Right,” Lucas swallows. “No changes, got it.”

He sounds dejected for some reason, but he shakes it off almost immediately. “I can’t believe that I live in one of the nicest buildings in the city.”

“A bragging point to put on your Tinder profile,” Renjun hurts himself a little bit with his joke, knowing that Lucas could potentially be out looking for other people. But he needs to come to terms with it, and maybe walking in on his new housemate with someone else is the surprise he needs to break him out of his feelings.

“I don’t have one,” Lucas shrugs, shovelling more eggs into his mouth. He’s got Hollandaise on the edge of his lips, and Renjun reaches across the table to wipe it off.

“Why?” he asks. It’s not like Lucas is unattractive, he could have anyone that he could ever want. Renjun is still in the phase of wanting Lucas to want him in return, but he’ll get over it.

Soon. Hopefully. Eventually.

“I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“I mean, fair,” Renjun shrugs off his odd choice in wording. “I’m busy, too, I completely understand.”

“Yeah, busy,” Lucas frowns. He brightens again after a moment, something of a habit. “Does this mean I can finally buy good pots and pans for the house?”

“It means you can unpack, you idiot,” Renjun replies fondly, referring to the bags and boxes of Lucas’ things still littering the house. “It’s your home, now.”

“Home,” Lucas breathes, “with the best housemate in the world.”

Renjun knows now that he’d rather be more, but he’ll take what he can get.

------

Chenle is out with his university friends. Jisung is at work. Mark and Donghyuck need couple time, despite being permanently attached at the hip. Lucas, having been invited to Friday night dinner, claims exhaustion from work as a reason to stay home.

Renjun is secretly glad, because he has some things he wants to talk about with his friends, conversations that can’t be had when the object of them is present.

“How’s living with Lucas?” Jaemin asks, sipping at his Gin and Tonic. He thinks he’s gained a sophisticated palate as an adult, and Renjun enjoys telling him that he hasn’t at every presented opportunity.

“Better than your taste in drinks,” he says. Jeno snorts into his rum and coke.

“My taste in drinks is fantastic,” Jaemin scoffs, downs half of it in one go. He flags down Sicheng to order another.

“Not like your taste in men,” Jeno has to add.

If only he knew.

“Yeah, yeah,” Renjun digs into his food, pauses, takes a sip of his vodka. “It’s Sledge Renjun Day, c’mon, have at me.”

“You’re into Lucas.”

“You’re living with Lucas.”

“And permanently,” Jaemin adds. He has a mouthful of food, his manners forgotten momentarily. “That’s like, the world’s dumbest idea.”

“I’m with Doc on this one,” Jeno admits, uses a nickname Renjun’s never heard before. He wonders if it’s new or something he’s missed, spending all his time with Lucas. “But also, you’ve gotta admit there are advantages to it?”

“To what, Jeno? He sighs, hopes they finish their dissection of his personal life sometime soon. Renjun has come out to enjoy time with his friends, but he’ll let them have their moment.

“Your situation. You can flirt with him, maybe? See how it goes?”

Renjun’s cutlery slides to a stop on his plate. “What a terrible idea,” he says, before continuing to eat. “That would make things very awkward.”

“Or, and hear me out, okay” Jaemin seems deep in thought, which is never a good sign when he’s away from his study notes. “It could turn out incredibly.”

Renjun breathes out through his nose, replaces his cutlery on the table before he does something stupid.

Like, throw it at his friends.

“You’re all over the place,” he says, “both of you.”

“We’re just considering all the options, here,” Jaemin replies. Jeno nods along with him. “This could end badly or you could like, make out with the man of your dreams by the end of it.”

“He’s not---” Renjun starts, is cut off by Jaemin and Jeno’s matching looks of disbelief. “Okay, so maybe he is. But what if I’m not the man of his dreams?”

“His loss,” Jeno shrugs.

“Kick him out,” Jaemin adds, gleefully. “No, seriously. I’ll help you throw his shit off the balcony.”

“Comforting,” Renjun drawls, rolls his eyes, finishes his drink. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all we can ask,” Jaemin looks oddly proud of him.

“And for that,” Jeno smirks, another bad sign. “I feel like it’s your shout tonight.”

“You only love me for my credit card,” he sighs.

But he pulls it out anyway, signalling for Sicheng to bring them the cheque.

------

Renjun realises one thing on his way home.

He’s forgotten how to flirt. Or rather, he doesn’t know how to flirt with someone like Lucas. It’s a bad idea in the grand scheme of things, but he’s got his friendly affection excuse ready and waiting in the wings.

It starts simply and by the television. Lucas likes My Kitchen Rules, and it’s something Renjun’s come to enjoy as well. Lucas’ hilarious commentary makes the reality show worth watching, so he always makes sure to be around when it’s time to tune in.

Renjun cuddles up to Lucas’ side during an ad break, rests his hand on Lucas’ chest. He’s met with a sideways glance, but nothing to indicate discomfort. In fact, Lucas shifts so the position is more comfortable for the two of them, wrapping an arm around Renjun’s waist.

He plays it up a little; drags his fingertips along Lucas’ sternum, murmurs commentary in his ear, making sure that his lips brush against the lobe. He buries his head in the crook of Lucas’ neck as he laughs, genuinely, at the jokes he’s told.

For a moment, Lucas even rests his head on Renjun’s, just for the briefest of seconds.

It’s progress, and he’s proud of himself for taking the step. Even if it means nothing to Lucas, it means everything and more to Renjun. The comfort, the familiarity, the affection. He can pretend that they’re something more, and he will for as long as Lucas will let him.

“Renjun, I---”

Lucas inhales, begins to speak, is cut off by a dramatic reveal on the television. He gasps, before changing the subject to what has transpired, going off on a rant about the cooking skill (or lack thereof) of the contestant on their screen.

The tension peaks and the station cuts to an ad break, Renjun sees his opportunity and takes it.

“What were you going to say before?” He asks. His hand comes to rest on Lucas’ cheek, turning his face so their eyes meet.

“I was going to say that I…” Lucas trails off, and for the briefest of moments, Renjun swears that he glances at his lips.

Kiss me, he wants to say, but the words die in his throat. He speaks through actions, tilting his head slightly, eyelids fluttering closed---

Lucas laughs, dry and hollow, turns his head away. It hurts, but he still holds Renjun close. His signals are mixed like the drinks Yuta makes for him, twice as confusing as the liquor as it courses through his veins. Renjun is drunk on Lucas, and he desperately wishes for sobriety.

“I think we’d be good on this show,” he says, finally. He plays with Renjun’s hair as the program resumes. “We’d kick everyone’s asses.”

“I can’t cook.”

“Yeah, but I can,” Lucas reminds him. “You can be the face of the team, I’ll do the work.”

“I’ll get into catfights with middle aged white women, you make the food,” Renjun nods, Lucas twirls a lock of hair around his fingertip. “Solid plan.”

“The most solid.”

Whatever Lucas was going to say, plans of a grand reality show debut probably wasn’t part of it. He’s come up with the idea on the spot, this Renjun knows.

Whatever.

If it’s that important, Lucas will tell him later.

Or so Renjun hopes.

------

Mark and Donghyuck are superhero fanatics. It’s something that’s formed with their university degrees, rather than stemming from high school obsessions. They drag their entire friend group along to each opening night, buying the tickets in advance before chasing everyone down for money they never knew they’d spent.

It’s a good time, overall. Renjun likes the MCU but he’s more interested in the costumes than the plot half the time. Donghyuck calls him a heretic, Chenle laughs and the group gets into a heated discussion over Team Cap vs Team Ironman at their pre-movie Grill’d burgers and chips.

It’s a tradition, just for the seven of them. But the next instalment of pretty costumes is about to be released and Donghyuck has booked for eight.

Lucas gets an official invite, double checks that it’s okay and allows Renjun to cling to his arm for warmth as they walk through the city.

Their cinema of choice is located in Southbank, just across the river. The walk is relatively short, about twenty minutes if Renjun matches Lucas stride for stride. They huddle together, cold wind blowing off the Brisbane River as they cross Victoria Bridge.

It’s the coldest part of the city at the coldest part of the day; still warm by other people’s standards but Lucas is a Queenslander, born and bred. His bones are used to the heat and humidity, anything under twenty degrees being hailed as sweater weather.

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” Lucas recites the phrase that echoes throughout the state whenever the temperature drops. “Glad you’re here, ‘jun, I need a personal heater.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, takes his cold fingertips and lifts the back of Lucas’ shirt. He presses the frigid skin against his back, sighing at the warmth before giggling at Lucas’ outraged yelp.

“Fucking cold,” he whines, wraps both of his arms around Renjun’s shoulders and pulls him into his chest. It a hug, somewhat, and Renjun goes in for a second attack.

Lucas yelps again, tries to pin Renjun’s arms by his side. “Stop that,” he pouts, letting his head fall forward to rest on Renjun’s. “You’re a terrible heater.”

“My hands are cold,” Renjun informs him, seeking the warmth of Lucas’ skin once more. “Lemme warm them up?”

“Here,” Lucas takes Renjun’s hands in his own, ignoring the way their commotion stops the flow of foot traffic along the bridge. He blows on their fingers, warmth for one moment, before he presses a soft kiss to the base of Renjun’s thumb. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to---”

“It’s okay,” Renjun takes one of Lucas’ hands, returns the favour. “See? We’re even now.”

Lucas regards him with wide eyes and cold-flushed cheeks.

“Seriously,” Renjun continues. He links their fingers together, allows their hands to fall between them. “I like it when you do things like that.”

“Yeah?” Lucas’ smile is wide and crooked, overjoyed. Renjun’s heart beats double time in his chest.

“Yeah.”

Renjun knows he’s blushing, makes up for it by dragging Lucas along the bridge, their hands linked.

“C’mon,” he says, “Donghyuck’s gonna skin us alive if we’re late.”

------

Jaemin greets them with a very raised eyebrow. He turns to Jeno, presumably to say something snarky, to find his mouth hanging open. With a roll of his eyes, he pushes against Jeno’s chin, forcing his mouth closed with an audible clack of his teeth.

Chenle offers a thumbs up, Jisung and Mark look appropriately confused. And Donghyuck appears murderous, as they’re nearly ten minutes late, before noticing their linked hands. His face softens into a smile.

Renjun pretends nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Sorry we’re late,” he says, slightly out of breath from their brisk power walk over the bridge and near run down Grey Street. “Misjudged the timing a little, there.”

“I’m sure you did,” Jaemin finally finds his snark. Renjun ignores him.

“Food,” Donghyuck gestures to the sign above the restaurant, before pointing to his stomach. “In me.”

“I could say something…” Jaemin begins, but he doesn’t have to. Everyone understands the innuendo and laughs accordingly.

“Watcha getting?” Lucas rests his chin on Renjun’s shoulder as they line up to order, wraps his arms around Renjun’s waist.

“Veggie burger,” Renjun says. They come highly recommended by one of the many Z Block vegetarians. It’s a night of new things, so he may as well start with his food. “And my weight’s worth of chips.”

“Share a large?”

Renjun can only nod in reply.

Lucas is cuddly, Lucas is acting like his boyfriend. Lucas holds his hand through the entire movie and it has Renjun completely at a loss.

------

The group disperses into the night post-film, Lucas’ hand still in Renjun’s. The whole group claims study for their speedy departure, the first week of lectures already available online to pre-reading.

Renjun, as per usual, has mostly assessment based work in store for him, practical pieces that he can’t prepare for until he’s learnt the proper techniques. The clean apartment is about to be filled with fabric scraps and pins once more and he’s already lamenting the oncoming chaos.

Lucas proposes a walk through Southbank before they head home. Not having to rely on public transport, they can be out later than the others and still make it back to their apartment with no issues. Everyone else has buses to catch, but Renjun and Lucas can simply walk.

Southbank is the tourist trap of Brisbane; fake beaches along the riverbed, intricate playgrounds for children, Barbeques in parks and speciality stores lining the strip. They’re all closed by the time Lucas and Renjun manage to wander past, but it’s fine. They’re lost in their own company anyway.

Walking through the brightly lit pathways and around the art installations, they head in the direction of Kangaroo Point, Lucas’ arm wrapped around Renjun’s shoulders.

It feels like a date, resembles some of the failed attempts at romance that Renjun has experienced in the past. But this time, he’s not bored and looking for an out, he’s on edge and waiting for something, anything to happen. For one of them to flip the switch.

Reaching a pier at the end of the walkway, Lucas gestures to the benches lining the structure and says, “you wanna sit for a while?”

It’s dimly lit, and they’re the only ones around. It’s an opportunity if Renjun’s ever seen one, and he decides to take it. Lucas sits first, and Renjun follows, swinging his legs over Lucas’ lap, straddling him. He links his arms behind his neck, playing with Lucas’ hair as he smiles down at him.

“I… wow,” Lucas says, his hands resting on Renjun’s thighs. “Not what I was thinking when I said sit, but this is a nice surprise?”

“You like it?” Renjun purrs, delights in Lucas’ shiver and the tightening of his hands.

“Yeah, this?” his hands travel across Renjun’s hips coming to rest on his lower back. “This is real nice.”

“You brought me all the way out here,” he drops his lips to Lucas’ neck, trails kisses from the base to his jawline. “And this isn’t what you expected?”

“I was gonna… ah… talk,” Lucas is completely under his spell, breathy moans, sighs into the winter air. But there’s nothing cold about them, Renjun runs hot as he licks at Lucas’ pulse. “I didn’t expect this from you, I promise.”

“You don’t want this?” Renjun shifts, makes to remove himself from Lucas’ lap. He’s stopped by hands on his thighs, trapping him in his spot. “We can talk, if that’s what you really want.”

“What about you?” Lucas asks, seriously. “Renjun, what do you want from me?”

“Kiss me,” he breathes.

Lucas doesn’t have to be told twice.

------

The morning after the kiss is awkward, and calling it a kiss would be too simplistic. Both Renjun and Lucas are dotted in hickeys, ghosts of touches still left on skin. He remembers, in great detail, the way Lucas kissed him against the bedroom door before he retired for the night; licking into his mouth, hands-on Renjun’s hips.

They didn’t kiss, they made out. Multiple times. And neither of them are willing to talk about it.

Renjun is of the opinion that there’s nothing to talk about; they’re into each other, they kissed. They should continue where they left off and kiss some more. It’s such a simple concept in theory, but in practice, it’s nearly impossible.

Lucas won’t meet his eyes at the dinner table that night, crosses his arms in front of his chest so that Renjun can’t curl against it during their usual MKR gossip session. It feels like rejection and it stings, hurts, aches.

Renjun stays up all night, wondering, waiting for Lucas to wake up and get ready for work. He starts prep at an ungodly hour pre-breakfast, and is usually up with the sunrise. Renjun doesn’t sleep at all, sits in the lounge room messaging Donghyuck until his eyelids are heavy.

“You’re up late,” Lucas says, wandering into the shared space while pulling his uniform up and over his head. “Or awake early.”

“Both,” Renjun clarifies, “haven’t slept, yet.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” Lucas laughs, picks his bag up from the floor where he left it the morning prior.

“Waiting for you,” Renjun replies simply. “Wanted to wish you a good day at work.”

“Jesus, ‘jun,” Lucas runs a hand through his messy hair. “You didn’t have to stay up all night to do that.”

He doesn’t sound mad, just defeated. Renjun leaves his position on the couch, makes his way over to the door. Lucas looks trapped, and Renjun supposes he is; Renjun and wood. A rock and a hard place. He can’t escape unless he literally runs, and he looks like he’s about to.

“Have a good shift,” Renjun says, closing in on him. He stands on his toes, presses a kiss to Lucas’ cheek.

Lucas deflates in relief, a smile on his face and fingertips brushing the same spot where Renjun’s lips once were.

“You’re allowed to kiss me, you know,” he whispers, and Lucas visibly brightens. He leans down, kisses Renjun’s lips with such softness it has him sighing. “Cute,” he says, and Lucas flushes.

“You’re cute,” he counters with, follows it up with another kiss. “But I really have to go, otherwise I’m gonna be late.”

“Have a good shift,” Renjun repeats, reiterates.

Lucas is all smiles as he replies, “I will.”

------

“Did youse fuck or what?” Jaemin asks, as eloquent and tactful as always.

Both Mark and Renjun choke on their Diet Coke.

“Classy,” Mark coughs, wiping at his nose where the soft drink has ended up. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“Don’t ask him that,” Renjun mumbles, cleans up his own mess. “He’s got a dick joke ready as a comeback.”

“I hate how well you know me,” Jaemin makes a show of sipping on his own Coke and not coughing it out. “I also hate that you’re avoiding my question.”

They’re in the middle of the Myer Centre food court, managing to find a table despite the busy lunchtime rush. Mark and Renjun have a break between classes and Jaemin’s been craving a Halal Snack Pack for days.

The solution, obviously, is to meet up at the kebab shop on the first level to talk shit and avoid their responsibilities while they eat. Cardboard boxes filled with meat, hot chips and sauce, soft drink on the side to wash it down.

Renjun’s willing to admit that Jaemin’s hunger cravings, at least, are in good taste.

“No,” Renjun stabs at his HSP with a plastic fork, collecting enough of his chicken/hot chilli/sour cream combo to satisfy his hunger. “No, we didn’t.”

“Poor form,” Jaemin boos, uses his hands to eat his food. Wordlessly, Renjun passes him a napkin.

“We just kiss, sometimes,” Renjun shrugs, “like I used to with you guys.”

High school memories, parties and underage drinking. Nearly two years ago, now, yet it feels like an age.

“Yeah,” Mark swallows, digs in for more. “But you weren’t into us. You’re into Lucas.”

“About that…” he says sheepishly, hides behind the can of his drink. “I was into all of you at one point.”

“I knew it!” Jaemin exclaims, throwing barbeque sauce soaked hands into the air in victory. “Jeno, too, right?”

Renjun groans, nods, tries to shrink in size. “And Donghyuck.”

“You liked Hyuck?” Mark sounds scandalised; wide eyed and shocked.

“Yeah, in like, year ten,” he’s waved off with a flippant hand. “Why are you so offended? You’re literally dating him.”

“I know, right?” Mark’s grin is goofy at the reminder. “Best two years of my life.”

“Oh God,” Jaemin fake gags before he rights himself, ignores Renjun’s napkins and licks the sauce from his fingers. “I need a boyfriend, you two are making me sick. I need revenge.”

“Date for love, my dude,” Mark replies sagely. “That goes for you, too, Renjun.”

He chokes again at the casual drop of the L-Word.

“Love? Who said anything about love? I’m too young for love, I don’t think I’m---”

“He’s having a panic attack,” Jaemin elbows Mark in the stomach. “Good going.”

“I’m having an existential crisis,” Renjun bemoans, mouth filled with HSP. “You can’t do that for me, I have a suit due in a month, I don’t have the time.”

“But you’ve got the time to mack on Lucas?” Jaemin, somehow, has finished the entire snack pack, sneaks his finger’s into Mark’s serve for more.

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Me,” Mark raises his hand.

“Also me,” Jaemin seizes the opportunity to steal more of Mark’s food. “Not into Lucas like that, sorry.”

“You have terrible taste,” Renjun huffs.

“I have wonderful taste.”

“I think I’ve got the best taste, and Renjun is legally obligated to agree with me,” Mark smiles smugly, before pushing his half-finished food in Jaemin’s direction.

“I regret telling you anything,” he groans, rests his forehead on the questionably clean table they’re seated at.

“You love us,” Jaemin sing songs.

“Not as much as he loves Lucas,” Mark, the traitor adds.

Renjun laughs because it’s true.

All of it.

------

Lucas turns off the stove midway through cooking, the sauce he’s creating left stagnant midway through its production. It’s pasta night, a recipe Lucas has finally managed to get off the old Italian chef at his work.

He’s been so excited to make the dish so Renjun, seated on the counter behind him, doesn’t know why Lucas suddenly stops in the middle of it.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, turning to face Renjun.

Usually, he swats at him playfully while he’s seated on the counter, reminding him that they have expensive bar stools for a reason. But this Lucas seems unphased by Renjun’s positioning, crowds him against the bench, places his hands on the countertop by his hips.

“Did I mean what?” Renjun has an idea what he’s talking about, is feeling playful enough to tease it out of him. “I mean a lot of things I say, Lucas, you’re gonna need to be specific.”

“When you said I’m allowed to kiss you,” he’s not in the mood to play, leaning forward and burying his face in the crook of Renjun’s neck. “Did you mean that?”

He presses his lips against marks old and fading, ones covered by Renjun’s winter wardrobe but left out in the open in the warmth of their apartment.

“Of course I did,” Renjun tilts his head, his eyelids fluttering closed. “Wouldn’t have said it, otherwise.”

“So I can kiss you whenever I want?” he sucks a new mark into Renjun’s neck, high on affection and attraction. “And you’re okay with it?”

“Why all the questions?”

Lucas pulls away, his eyes dark and lips spit slick. Renjun tilts his head, kisses him full on the mouth.

The reaction is instantaneous; Lucas’ hands on his cheeks as he licks into Renjun’s mouth, more passionate than the times before. He’s trying to tell Renjun something, a story in actions not words, but the kiss is dizzying and the details hard to decipher.

Renjun wraps his arms around Lucas’ neck, his legs around his hips, pulls him closer. There is an intensity and a passion that he can’t get enough of, affection that Lucas gives so freely.

Lucas groans, Renjun tugs lightly at his hair and they break apart, panting, looking at each other with something unreadable.

“You’re incredible,” Lucas says. It feels wrong, in the context, like he should be saying something else, words straight from Renjun’s wishful thinking.

“And you should kiss me again,” he breathes.

The sauce stays forgotten on the stove, cooling in its midway point, as Renjun loses himself to the feeling of Lucas’ lips.

------

The new semester of university means busy and broke friends and Lucas, while he loves his job, would rather not be there during his time off, even as a paying customer. Meaning Chenle soon becomes Renjun’s one and only Friday night dinner companion, the only person willing and able to meet up once a week.

“Did you know,” Chenle twirls his straw through his drink. “That there’s alcohol in bitters?”

“Yeah,” Sicheng rolls his eyes, places Yuta’s newest cocktail creation in front of Renjun. It smells like citrus, a flavour of drink that Renjun is fond of. “But there’s like, six drops, maximum in there. Wouldn’t even register as alcohol if you were tested.”

“How alcoholic is bitters, anyway?” Chenle mumbles to himself, looks up the information on his phone. His eyes widen. “Sicheng, if I asked for a shot of bitters, would you give it to me?”

“No,” he deadpans, clearing their plates. “I’d be tempted because it would be funny to watch, but I’m not gonna waste good bitters on your attempts to drink underage.”

Plates stacked on his arm he pauses, before continuing. “Plus, it would taste like shit.”

“Are you allowed to swear at work?” Chenle asks, “if I told Taeil, would you get fired?”

“Unlikely,” Sicheng snorts. “You haven’t heard chefs in the kitchen. If swearing was banned we’d have no one left to cook the food.”

“Lucas is pretty good at home,” Renjun mentions, offhandedly. It seems to remind Chenle of the time he saw them holding hands at the cinema, because his grin widens in glee.

“Because you’re there,” he teases, makes kissy noises. “Because he wants to impress you.”

“Oh,” something seems to click in Sicheng’s head. “So you’re the one he’s--”

“Yes, I live with Lucas,” Renjun cuts them both off, not in the mood for their teasing. Things with Lucas are complicated enough, he doesn’t need extra stresses on the are-they-aren’t-they nature of their relationship.

Chenle and Sicheng both seem to get the hint.

“Your usual for dessert?” he asks, like it ever changes. Cheesecake of the day for Chenle, Sticky Date Pudding for Renjun. Their usual order.

“Yeah,” Chenle answers for them. “And a shot of bitters.”

Sicheng ignores him as he walks away.

“I’ve been thinking,” Chenle says, once Sicheng is out of earshot. “What happens to your supervillain lair once you go to NIDA?”

“Lucas will probably look after it,” Renjun shrugs, he hasn’t really put that much thought into it.

“Have you asked him?”

“Why?” Renjun takes a sip of his cocktail. It’s perfect, and he exchanges a thumbs up with Yuta as he polishes glasses behind the bar. “It’s not for a few years, yet and I haven’t even got in.”

“But you’ll get in and you’ll go,” Chenle insists. Renjun humours him for a second, offering him a nod. “I’m willing to bet that Lucas will wanna go with you.”

“Why?”

Renjun can’t comprehend it, because Lucas has such a life for him already in Brisbane. Friends, family, a good workplace. He’s not going to leave everything he knows just to follow Renjun halfway across the country.

“Renjun,” Chenle’s voice is full of pity. “Haven’t you noticed that he’s in love with you?”

He doesn’t answer, just downs his entire drink in one go, sitting in silence as they wait for their dessert to come.

------

Renjun tests a theory.

“If I moved to Sydney, would you want to come with me?” he asks.

He’s seated on Lucas’ lap, arms wrapped around his midsection, kisses placed against his nape as they watch television. Renjun has work he needs to do, especially if he’s going to graduate with good enough marks to even be considered for the NIDA program.

“Sure,” he can feel Lucas shrug behind him. “If you wanted me to come with you, I would in a heartbeat.”

“Why?” Renjun has to ask. Lucas doesn’t even know the details, the reason, the timeline. He’s just agreed, out of the blue, to Renjun’s very serious yet very strange request.

“Don’t you know by now?” he laughs into the back of Renjun’s neck. “It’s because it’s you.”

------

Renjun decides that a change of location is needed for everyone involved, those cooped up in the library needing a fresh place to do their studies, so he opens his house up on a Wednesday night for his friends to hold a bit of a study group.

He sews in the corner while the others sit on their laptops on various surfaces; from the floor to the couches and the breakfast bar. Lucas has the television on low, background noise for those studying but also something to occupy his time.

With their weight’s worth of McDonald’s spread around them, they all settle in to further their education, well into the night.

Jeno takes a break, looking up study abroad options in Switzerland. He’s learnt enough of their national languages to warrant an exchange there, something he’s been considering for the past few months. He’ll even be able to pay it off with his HECS, and still be eligible for his Centrelink payments. He’s pretty sure he’ll be going, and Renjun already knows that he’ll miss Jeno terribly.

The rest of them make up flash cards, take turns quizzing each other on terms and definitions for their subjects. Mark reveals that he’s been taking Mandarin at university for the better part of three years, something that has Chenle yelling in betrayal.

“The amount of shit I’ve said around you, thinking you couldn’t understand,” he sounds horrified.

Mark smirks. “I know all of your secrets,” he says, “so you better be nice to me from now on.”

“I’m always nice to you,” Chenle scoffs, though does seem to have a change of heart when it comes to teasing Mark later on in the evening.

Lucas goes to bed at around one in the morning, and without thinking, he presses a soft kiss to Renjun’s lips while saying goodnight. He’s not complaining, because he loves Lucas, loves kissing him. But he’s not quite sure it was the best idea, considering their company.

“Finally,” Jisung says, the first person to notice. “I was wondering when they’d get together.”

“They’re together?” Jaemin looks up from his flashcard, eyebrow raised. “Thanks for telling us, guys, I would have loved to have known.”

“They don’t owe us shit,” Donghyuck swats at Jaemin’s arm with his own flashcard. “But congrats, you two are super cute.”

“We’re… uh… not together.”

Lucas’ admission has the room shocked silent and Renjun’s heart breaking in his chest.

“You sure about that?” Chenle prompts. “Like, super sure?”

“Renjun, he, uh,” Lucas plays with his hair, a nervous habit. “I don’t think he sees me the same way?”

“How would you know?” Renjun gets to his feet, stares up at him with fire in his eyes. “I don’t know how you feel about me, either.”

“Guys,” Jeno breaks the tension. “Maybe this is a private conversation?”

“Yeah,” Lucas slumps, defeated. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

He gestures for Renjun to follow him, the door to his room closing with a resolute slam.

------

Renjun takes a seat on Lucas’ bed, folds his arms across his chest. “Alright,” he says, “spill. Cards on the table. How do you feel?”

“You want the truth, Renjun?” Lucas paces, frustrated, around the perimeter of his room. “I think you’re it for me. I’m pretty fucking sure that I’ll never be able to love anyone else, not the way I love you.”

Renjun stands, walks over to him, brings Lucas down for a kiss. “Since when?” he asks, “since when did you know?”

“Formal,” Lucas’ arms wrapped around his hips, his face buried in his neck. They sway together, back and forth, dancing to music that only they can hear. “I told you, didn’t I? That I’m in love with you.”

“You said sike,” Renjun reminds him. He can’t help himself, has to kiss him again. “What was I supposed to think?”

“That I was fine being your friend.”

“And are you?”

“Yes,” Lucas replies honestly, holding Renjun tighter. “If it means I can still have you in some way, I’m happy being friends.”

“What if I want more,” Renjun says slowly, Lucas stills. “What if,” he lets out a shaking breath. “You were it for me, too?”

“Then I’d propose we turn this into a sewing room,” Lucas says, very seriously. “Because I’m not sure about you, but I’d rather share a bed with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Renjun smiles, steals yet another kiss. “I like the sound of that.”

------

Jeno spends his year abroad, comes back as what he claims to be a better person. Chenle’s one year from graduation and Jisung’s set up for both a promotion and a career at the job that he loves.

Donghyuck, now a certified primary school teacher, is set to start work in the summer, already planning on the decorations for his year one classroom.

Mark lands a high paying job with Suncorp Bank in the CBD, Jaemin set to start his Medicine degree with the new year.

And Renjun, well…

“I’m gonna miss you,” Jaemin says, wiping his tears on the sleeve of his shirt. “Both of you.”

“We’ll visit,” Chenle promises. “All of us.”

“Don’t forget me,” Donghyuck says, pulling him into a hug. “And don’t worry about the apartment, we’ll take good care of it.”

He takes Mark’s hand in his, their matching engagement rings glinting in the sunlight.

“Group hug!” Jisung yells, pulling Lucas and Renjun into the centre of attention and affection, each of their friends hugging them at once.

They’re Sydney and NIDA bound, the last of their things in the backseat of Lucas’ car. The movers have taken everything else already, just the essentials and the sentimental belongings remain; clothes, driving snacks, the framed copy of Renjun’s PR acceptance letter.

“You ready to go, babe? Lucas asks, taking his hand.

“With you?” Renjun says. “I’d go anywhere.”

Lucas starts the car, Renjun offering one last tearful farewell before they’re off.

On the road, and into the future.