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The beautiful city of Bergen was surrounded by mountains.
Not only one, but it also has seven protectors lined tactfully standing for the city's defense on the east side. To its northwestern border, the Norwegian sea lay merged with the North sea. The city center, facing the fjord of Byfjorden, was emblazoned by buildings from different eras of history—from a church dated back to the 12th century to the reconstructed Bryggen that casts a contemporary zig-zag neon amidst the scattered light from the civilian houses every night. The city, along with its friendly end-of-summer sun, offered warmth to its visitors. Its tolerant citizen added with its picturesque scenery made this Land of the Vikings able to climb into the top list of the most beautiful cities on earth.
Na Jaemin was a living embodiment of perfection. Like the said city, Jaemin was always surrounded by people. Standing nearly 6 feet tall, the Korean-Indonesian descent was blessed with a disarmingly amicable smile full of teeth and whiskers that could pull anyone with the force of opposite side of magnets. Throughout his life, Jaemin had learned that his smile was his most deadly weapon—that no one would be able to resist bending the knee in front of it. As the cherry on top, he was one of the youngest debaters competing in the world's championship that was being held in Norway's second-largest city after Oslo.
Jaemin loved debating because he could meet with likeminded people through debating sessions. The timed and pressured environment of debate fueled him high with adrenaline, which Jaemin realized he had fucking loved ever since Yoonoh-ahjussi asked him to join the skydiving trip at New Zealand 5 years ago. Moreover, debaters had the wit to crack funny yet sarcasm-laden jokes—the qualities which his sweet-tempered brother couldn't provide. In his defense, Jeno was exceptionally intelligent to the point of eternally perching on the 1st rank in every test that he took. Sweet, sweet Jeno. Their mom once said that Jeno and he were pieces of art with a stark chiaroscuro.
Jaemin was not only thirsty for the joy of fighting for something, but also of roasting people. Secretly, he also loved getting roasted in return. His extroverted nature was a vampire who thrived on human interaction, especially high energy-high stake ones. The welcoming party of the world-level tourney was the beginning of a blood bath, both of which are a feast for him.
Having been growing up in an interracial family, Jaemin used to have people staring at him—sometimes in awe, and often in adoration. It was the exact feeling that he was having while flocking at the center of the crowd. The music deafened his ears. People were bustling around, trying to enjoy the calm day before the storm. As much as he was contented of being showered attention below the spotlight, his hungry stomach prompted him to break his bubble of conversation and went for the mouthwatering food stalls.
Amidst the blur of people, there was a tiny figure standing still in front of the dessert section. A contrast to the environment around him. Jaemin was stopped right in his track.
If there's anything Jaemin loved more than his family, adrenaline, and food, it was outliers. Anomalies enchanted him like a siren's call. There was this scientist-ish side of Jaemin—who would probe, poke, and observe anomalies to figure out what makes them tick.
The stranger in question was a petite Asian boy with a height that approximately didn't even reach Jaemin's chin. He was silently enjoying a pink cake alone. He looked dapper in his brownish suit with his hair combed backward. He had this air of majestic unapproachability around him. That was a lot, considering he was eating a fucking pink creamy cake, the kind of which would be endorsed by girl groups dressed in frilly clothes singing cutesy songs. The kind of which Jaemin had grown to hate because his supposedly little lie caused Jeno to be showered cakes on a valentine's day only to find their beloved husky died the next day with those exact cake crumbs scattered around its body.
The beautiful stranger licked the cream that stained his upper lips and shifted his gaze upward.
For the first time in his life, Na Jaemin was caught staring. And for the first time in his life too, the receiver of his stare dared to break the tension and shifted his attention back to the cake on his plate. It irked Jaemin to no end because, throughout his life, Jaemin was solely guided by a principle that no one was immune to his charm, both woman and man alike.
Another thing debating taught Jaemin was that he had to be open to possibilities, but there would be no victory without a fight. In that particular area, Jaemin was a firm believer in a strong offense. He confidently strutted and stopped beside the beautiful stranger. He summoned his most charismatic tone just to ask a pretentious question.
"Excuse me, I wonder which is more delicious? The pink cakes or… the one standing in front of it?"
The stranger hesitated for a fraction of second before he faced Jaemin.
Jaemin smirked. He extended his arms, waiting for a handshake. "Na Jaemin. Indonesia's third—you can call me Nana."
"Huang Renjun," he answered, curving his mouth politely for him.
Jaemin's stomach lurched; 1) at the name he recognized written beside his own at the front desk when he was taking key to his room, 2) at the living evidence of his killer smirk's first failure, and 3) with the fact that the guy was smiling but his stare was alarmingly cold and… empty.
"Oh," he trailed—the curve of his lips flattened by several degrees, "You're my roommate, then! South Korea's third, right?"
Renjun nodded. Jaemin couldn't take his eyes off of his black hair that bounced with the motion. Renjun then glanced at his watch. A gesture that Jaemin thought was funny because the watch was disproportionately big compared to his tiny wrist. The second time Renjun took his words away for that night was when he walked away without saying anything.
Jaemin was utterly flabbergasted. He was effin ghosted. No one had ever dared to do that to the Na Jaemin before, especially when he had launched into his full flirty mode. The second principle of Jaemin's life was that he either win it all... or lose it all. If Renjun didn't want to be friends with him, then he better be ready to get into Jaemin's list of enemies. The wheels inside his head had already been turning, calculating a thousand ways to get back to the petite boy. Jaemin's mind was arranging some cunning scheme while his mouth was busy munching a funny-looking fruit pie. Jaemin loved fruit pies, just not those which contain strawberry—those disgusting red devils pretending to be a fruit.
Seconds later, he was tapped out from his trance to find his teammates stopped before him. "Who is that guy?"
"Huang Renjun of South Korea."
His teammate's mouth fell. He dramatically said, "Don't go near him, Jaem."
"Too bad. The burn is already there," Jaemin jeered. "Funny that fate also entwined our rooms together."
"Renjun is an infamously ruthless, cold-blooded killing machine."
"Well… It makes me more excited to tear him apart," Jaemin said, cleaning the last crumbs of his second serving. "Figuratively, of course," he added after he saw his teammate's knowing gaze.
"Just make sure whatever scheme of yours is not going to get us disqualified, Jaem," another teammate who had just arrived warned him. Jaemin was a renowned prankster in their school. Behind his sweet guy mask, Jaemin held grudges like no one did. His lie to the president of Jeno's Fanclub—who had this big fat crush on his brother—that Jeno loved handmade cream cake was one of his monumental works, considering how Jeno had lived 15 years of his life living with lactose intolerance. The prank was started just because she spoiled Jaemin's little congratulatory surprise to Jeno, a small prize for his latest win in soccer competition and gold medal on national biology tournament, to get his attention. Jaemin cackled not only at Jeno's expression when he had this huge ass handmade cream cake shoved to his face, but mainly at the girl's hard effort that was reduced to dust because Jeno didn't eat her fucking cream cake.
"Can I have more of this fruit and cheese pie?" Jaemin heard one Scandinavian debater standing behind him asked the waiter. He waved the pie that Jaemin had eaten minutes before.
Jaemin gaped. He looked like he was doomed.
Correction: he definitely was.
Because in their house, Jeno was not the only one who lived with lactose intolerance. In fact, Jaemin's was so much worse to the point he had to suffer through a dairy-free diet in order to fully function.
"Shit."
***
The clock said it was two hours to midnight when Jaemin got back to the room.
The worst thing about the intolerance-induced stomachache was the pulsatile pain. When it came, his stomach felt like it had an internal tornado roaring uncontrollably. He had endured it during the day, thanks to his stash of emergency medicines that his mother had always packed for him. Better safe than sorry, she always said. The problem was: Jaemin had downed his last safe dose of painkillers for the day only hours ago.
Renjun was scribbling some information on his big book when he came in. Thankfully, he didn't even bother to look up from his notes. Jaemin directly went to his bed, trying to sleep while the meds were still working. Jaemin silently prayed that Renjun would go to sleep before his painkiller's effect weaned.
Of course, Renjun didn't.
When the clock struck midnight, Jaemin groaned. The first thing he realized that his stomach was throwing a tantrum again, and Renjun was still reading. Jaemin scoffed, the Deities sure loved to tease him. Jaemin would do the same thing if only he was in his prime condition. When the second wave of cramps hit him, he dashed to the toilet at a speed that would make the quicksilver embarrassed.
The second worst part of stomach ache was the uncontrollable—ahem, natural—sounds Jaemin produced involuntarily. Jaemin froze at his funny, long flatulence sound which was then answered by a soothing piece played from outside the door. Jaemin halfheartedly hoped that Renjun played electronic dance music instead, as to cover the sounds he was making in the toilet.
As predicted, that was not the only time he went to the toilet that night. He paced back and forth noisily. Renjun didn't say anything at first. He occasionally stared at Jaemin with his eyes narrowed—slightly skeptical and clearly disturbed by all the motions and sounds.
When he paced back to his bed for the umpteenth time, Renjun finally put his pen down, closed his notes, and went to the toilet to brush his teeth. He emerged minutes later with his nose scrunched and face wet.
Jaemin could not help that his image in front of Renjun was flushed down the loo, along with the delicious Norwegian food he feasted on hours ago. However, to be honest, Jaemin didn't care anymore.
"If it is that bad, shouldn't you receive medical assistance?" Renjun asked.
"No!" Jaemin replied aggressively.
"This is caused by lactose intolerance—a condition of mine, which I have had since forever. I know how to handle and prevent this if only my stupid sinusitis didn't choose this perfect timing to block my olfactory off. Moreover, had the team known this, they would spend the time we could use for case-building to pity me. I've been working my ass off these past months to be here, and I don't want some stupid diarrhea to keep me from winning," Jaemin vomited a string of tirade, getting frustrated.
Renjun stared at him. Jaemin half-heartedly hoped that he could take those words back. Because in debating, a vulnerability was the thing you could not show, especially to your enemies—especially not to someone whom he had planned a prank scheme moments before.
"Have you tried medications?"
"I have already downed the upper limit of safe dose for today," Jaemin answered.
Renjun hummed and snuggled under their bed cover. He checked his phone for the last time to set an alarm. At that time, the pain hit Jaemin again, making him curled in response.
"Is there anything I could do to help?" Renjun asked him.
To say Jaemin was surprised was an understatement. This was the infamous Huang Renjun he was dealing with. His heart beat faster, but his rational mind and self-protective instinct shot them down. Jaemin could understand. He was ruthless, too, and he could be courteous if he chose to. Power existed in multiple forms and Jaemin was glad he was given the versatility to express it in various languages.
This train of thought was stopped by the churning feeling inside his stomach.
Fuck it. Jaemin didn't care anymore.
"I need stomach rubs," Jaemin blurted.
Renjun stared at him, astonished. "What?"
Jaemin wondered how it would feel like to punch Renjun's pretty face. He then took a deep breath before he could do something stupid that would make his team disqualified.
"Stomach r-u-b, you know," Jaemin emphasized by rubbing his stomach harshly.
"I'm not deaf, Na. I know what r-u-b mean. Thank you very much. But it's… unheard of." He narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "You're just kidding."
"No. There is a scientific basis of distracting modalities to manage pain, Huang. One of the most powerful was by drowning pain sensory input with any other type of stimulation."
Having a surgeon mother, and not to mention a gold medalist in biology for a brother, was definitely an enriching experience. Jaemin was used to have medical facts thrown at him on a daily basis. Jaemin was not the most enthusiastic one to listen to his mother and brother's rambling, but he was reminded from time to time how those random facts had helped him at multiple occasions in his life.
Renjun's incredulous expression greeted him.
"It's called a gate control theory," Jaemin continued.
Renjun clucked his tongue, his expression changed.
"Oh yeah? Does the sensation have to be a rub?"
"Ever so critical, Huang. Mezalk will be so proud of you." Jaemin smirked. "It doesn't have to."
Renjun narrowed his eyes.
"Heat pack works, but I don't bring any. Tummy kisses works, too, but it'll tire your neck. Rubs, in my personal experience, worked the best."
"Interesting," Renjun stayed silent for a few seconds before he tilted his head and his lips bloomed into a sweet, mocking smile. "How about a punch to the stomach?"
That sass. Jaemin loved it.
"It'll definitely dull the pain." Jaemin only smirked. "But I don't want to pass the chance to take South Korea, especially you, for something as stupid as fistfight on the night before the tourney start, Huang." Jaemin rationed.
"Too bad, eh?" Renjun sneered.
The following silence was suffocating. Jaemin looked at Renjun and he saw himself there. Like him, Renjun was a strong commander who had been taught to never, ever accept a request that didn't benefit him, especially when it came from a stranger, possibly an enemy, he just met hours ago.
The next wave of cramps hit Jaemin at that time. He was doomed. He breathlessly asked, "can you give me a stomach rub… Please?"
Renjun hesitated. "Can't you rub yourself?"
"My sensory system will know that it's me. It'll be useless."
Renjun sneered and turned to his side. He wore his airpods to sleep.
"Good luck finding other people to scam, Na."
***
The next few nights were hellish.
The burden and tension of the tournament slowly took its toll on Jaemin's body. He was generally okay in the morning through the afternoon, but he would suffer for several hours every midnight. In those periods, his consciousness was floaty, waxing and waning endlessly following a sine curve. The sensation reminded him of his experience of getting drunk for the first time with his friends, after which his mother decided to give him a lecture on how alcohol could do bad things to your body.
Jaemin barely remembered his trips, losing his sense of direction to the point he fell asleep in the toilet. Sometimes, Jaemin thought he hallucinated about his cold roommate was staring at him and pulling the bed cover for him. He would then tell himself to hang on until he can get his safe dose at dawn, after which Jaemin would drag his ass to get ready and compete again.
The exercise and vigorous training since the last several months clearly helped his team to power through the preliminary rounds. Jaemin was forever grateful that he was religiously disciplined about sparring. During the competition, there was no idle time, for he watched and analyzed other teams when he was not competing. It was to hunt or to be hunted.
One time, he got to see how Huang Renjun knocked his opponents effortlessly.
If Renjun was a killer, Jaemin bet his weapon would be a long, poisonous needle. His words were impeccably calculated and hauntingly efficient, designed to make a surgical cut upon the organ that pumped life to one's body. Jaemin remembered in detail how he hugged his opponents close before stabbing them at their heart, all while maintaining the cold stare in his eyes. After sealing the victory, Renjun turned to go back to his chair, making their eyes met for a few milliseconds.
There was a glint on Renjun's eyes whose meaning Jaemin didn't have any idea about, but Jaemin knew that he had to survive, even though he had to use his whole life share of sheer will.
***
Jaemin felt elated that night, for his team broke into the (hopefully) finals after knocking out the USA team on abortion issues. He swore he would kiss his mother both for packing him multiple strips of over-the-counter painkillers and for taking him to her private clinic to observe her patients since several years ago. Jaemin's experience in the program was the basis of the anecdote that tip the adjudicators vote to give his team the victory.
When he called her, his mother was surrounded by his brothers. She fussed at him for not telling her earlier. She was very concerned to the point of wanting to call her colleagues in Oslo to check up on Jaemin. Jaemin declined, though, for he's on the verge of winning a medal in this tournament. He told his mother how he had utilized her packed meds, and ranted on how he still had hours of suffering at midnight despite consuming the meds to its maximum dose. He also ranted on how the hell the episode of diarrhea was so prolonged even though he only ate several small cheese pies.
"I think your stressed condition worsens the manifestations. Can't you just ask your teammates for favors, Sweetie? Do you remember the stomach rubs that I taught you?"
"I don't want to be bullied through 3 years of high school because of it, Bun," Jaemin said sternly, his face bent.
At the moment, he caught Renjun slipped into the room from his peripheral vision. Renjun sat down in front of him. "Bun, my roommate is here. I'll call you later!"
Renjun has this effect on him as if he has to tell everything to Renjun. As if he had to be validated by Renjun.
"It was my mom." Jaemin blurted.
Renjun arched his left eyebrow, clearly astounded by Jaemin's sudden confession. He looked confused, but he shrugged it off. He moved to the bed and cuddled into his pillow. Jaemin thought he was dreaming when he hazily heard Renjun's voice.
"I watch your last round, Jaem."
Jaemin took a quick note that Renjun called him by his first name.
"You fought like you believe in that motion," Renjun said.
"Well, I actually do." Jaemin shrugged. "My mother is an obstetrician. I assisted her a lot in the clinic. I witnessed young women who died because of unsafe abortion practices. Rape is real—even within formal marriages. Women should be able to decide their fate, including to say no when they want to."
Jaemin was not sure if it was real or it was only the bedside lamp that played the light but for the first time, he saw Renjun's gaze softened.
Jaemin continued, "I help my mother empowering the local teenage girls. They have to be independent physically, emotionally, and financially, as to decide what's best for them."
Jaemin reached for his phone again to open the gallery. He sat straight, leaning to the bed. He gestured Renjun to scoot closer. Jaemin spent the next hour telling Renjun about the people he met in the clinics, their stories, and what Jaemin and his mother had done to help them. By the end of the stories, the glint on Renjun's eyes re-appeared, but now Jaemin could recognize it. It was something that he stared into whenever he looked at the man in the mirror.
It was vulnerability.
Jaemin wondered if Renjun was anything like him. If Renjun was distant because he once revealed vulnerability which was weaponized against him. Jaemin would like to ask, but he decided to listen instead. God had gifted him with a pair of ears and only one mouth for that task.
Renjun fixed his gaze at his small hands. Jaemin only waited, and waited. He was slowly slipping into sleep when Renjun bitterly started, "My mother was sold to be married to a rich family, but got abused instead. She had no choice but to hold on to keep me safe. My current father took me in from the neonatal unit when she died in childbirth."
That unexpected lines had Jaemin shocked.
Truth to be told, his coach once said that in debating, there were motions that would intersect with the topics that you hold dear to the heart. In debating, too, sometimes you found the people who had a similar life story to you, the ones who would make you feel that you were not alone in this big, vast universe.
"I always question whether it is better for me to be born or not," Renjun said. It was also the same question that had haunted Jaemin through his early childhood before he met his current family. Jaemin thought if there was a Higher Being who had orchestrated serendipity that lead him to meet Renjun.
"Say that again and you would be killed by my mother," Jaemin said softly.
Renjun laughed, "I would love to meet her."
"You definitely will," confirmed Jaemin.
"Now I know better instead of wallowing in my despair, I could help people to be independent. Thanks to you, Jaemin-ah," Renjun continued while smiling, "Actually I think we can be best friends, if only you don't go to the toilet every 5 minutes or so."
Jaemin could only smile at him. Renjun looked more beautiful when he's smiling like this. It was always nice if the world was kinder and could embrace people's vulnerability.
"The lactose intolerant me is me, Injun. Does that mean you'll give me stomach rubs?" His eyes twinkled, lit up with hope.
Renjun yawned, pulling his blanket over his head and turning to the other side. He presented his tiny shoulder to Jaemin. "Nope, I'm too fucking exhausted to be involved with your clownish mischief."
***
On the night before the finale, Jaemin woke up when the clock struck half-past one. His stomach grumbled like tomorrow wouldn't be The Most Important Day of His Debating Career So Far™. His roommate was deeply asleep beside him. He rubbed his stomach patiently, praying hard that the stupid bowel movement would stop. After a minute of it not showing any sign of getting better, he threw his blanket away and tiptoed to the toilet. He was careful not to wake Renjun up. He had to conserve his strength because debating with Renjun tonight would not help him win tomorrow.
The sixth time he went back to the bed, he found Renjun staring at him. His expression a mix of incredulity and somnolence.
"Sorry for waking you up," Jaemin said.
Renjun's eyes were half-closed.
"Stop acting like you are. I know you aren't."
He yawned and then forced his eyes open.
"Will it help? A rub?" Renjun asked, not even trying to mask the cynicism on his voice.
"Yeah," Jaemin said softly. "It had never failed before. Mother said there's a scientific reason behind—"
"Come here," Renjun patted the crumpled space beside him.
Jaemin's eyes widened for a fraction of second before his face bloomed with a full grin. If he was Renjun, he would simply wish a peaceful and restful slumber before the finale. And if it took him giving a stomach rub to a stranger he just met days ago, he could tell himself that he could suck it up.
Shouting his gratitude, he jumped on the bed like an overexcited kitten. He tugged his pillow closer to his petite roommate.
"How do I… r-rub?" Renjun asked.
Jaemin thought he was going insane by the number of hallucinations he experienced lately because he thought that he saw pinkish hue blooming on his tiny friend's cheeks.
But it was not Jaemin's hallucination. There were three possibilities of it: he has succeeded in melting Renjun's barriers, Renjun hated the way he stuttered, or... the combination of both. At the last possibility, Jaemin's ego was blown up. He was the Huang Renjun. Jaemin had seen him slaying his opponents with the ruthlessness of a cold-blooded killer. Jaemin bet Huang Renjun and stutter had never been in the same sentence before.
"Well, you put your hand on my stomach and then you do a circular motion over it. Oh, and I love occasional scratch too!" Jaemin hands grabbed his smaller one, hovering it above the belly button.
Jaemin felt Renjun's whole body tensed, while his whole body relaxed the moment his hand touched his belly. After several failed attempts, Renjun got it just right.
Jaemin purred in satisfaction.
"…I just don't want to beat someone who had his ass already kicked by some stupid diarrhea the night before. It'll hurt my pride. Now shut up and sleep," Renjun clarified sharply, closing his eyes and trying to catch the last vestiges of his sleep.
"Can you also give me tummy kisses?"
"Are you tired of living, Na? Shut up and sleep."
Jaemin was honest when he thought that it was the best good night's sleep which he had in the last several years.
***
The next day, Renjun's team won against Jaemin's by a close margin in the semifinals. They both got their collective asses kicked in the last match, though, effectively rendering Renjun failed to get his targeted best speaker title. A loss that could easily be rectified next year, especially knowing the fact that they were beaten by the senior team. It's their first year, anyway.
Three hours before his scheduled flight, Jaemin came back to say goodbye to Renjun, only to find their shared room empty. There was a subtle kind of pang that he didn't get the chance to say goodbye to Renjun. It was partially his fault that he failed to prevent his teammates to drag him into the car right after the announcement for they wanted extra time to go sightseeing before going home. He also had not asked Renjun's contact yet.
Imagine his disbelief when he saw a familiar-looking figure standing just two meters in front of the check-in counter queue.
"Injun! Huang Injun of South Korea!" Jaemin screeched.
"Are you stalking me? Why are you taking flights to Seoul?"
"Sort of? How can I not? You give really good stomach rubs, Injunnie," Jaemin beamed.
Renjun looked that he was ready to beat him up.
"I'm just kidding. Hadn't I tell you that I'm going to Seoul after this? My mother's ex-mother-in-law—I know it sounds complicated. Wait, it is, actually—passed away before the tourney and I'm going to go to her funeral," Jaemin explained.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly.
"Thank you. Congratulations on the second place, by the way. My teammates wanted to go sightseeing so they dragged me along right after the finals finished. I had wanted to tell you but I realized I hadn't asked for your contact!" Jaemin reasoned. "Speaking of which, do you mind giving me your number, Mr. Stomach Rub Magician?"
"Remember that you owe me favors, Poop-Man," he shot back sternly but grabbed Jaemin's phone anyway. After finished typing his number, he walked away with a smile plastered on his face.
"Favors? What favors? As long as I remember, I only owe you one..."
Realization struck Jaemin with a force of a roller coaster. Jaemin was never a tidy sleeper. The fact that he always woke up warmly covered with the blanket, the glass of lukewarm water placed on his bedside at 3 in the morning in a room cooled with an air conditioner, and a vague memory of finding a pair of beautiful eyes staring at him. It was not a hallucination after all.
Something warm and foreign swelled in Jaemin's heart—something that he didn't have a name for, which was extremely rare, given that he had finished the Oxford thesaurus dictionary since he was in his first grade. Jaemin hated unfamiliar things, but this was definitely not unwelcome.
"Injun, wait! My phone!" Jaemin haphazardly thanked the check-in counter staff before scrambling to keep up with Renjun—his flimsy hands full with passport and plane ticket.
***
After the critical eleven had passed and the plane was flying steadily, the airplane crews started to distribute snacks and beverages. Renjun was incredulous that The Lactose-Intolerant Bitch sitting beside him had the guts to ask for ice cream.
"It's okay, I have you now. Anyway, if I'd die because of this, it would be with pride!" Jaemin said cheerfully. He clapped his much bigger palm to Renjun's small one before entwining their fingers together.
Renjun's look was priceless like he couldn't believe Jaemin wanted to repeat those nightmarish nights. The person in question just hummed happily, because he left Bergen with a new medal, a new title, and a new friend.