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Chenle remembers everything.
It took Chenle way too much time to realize that he’s been having recurring dreams about the past. Not necessarily his past, but somehow it feels as though those dreams are memories of his own, as ridiculous as it sounds. They feel authentic, like they are actual things he’s lived through before, but at the same time he feels like they’re only a fraction of his imagination.
Perhaps his mind is telling him to be a writer or a filmmaker, which does sound more reasonable. But he refuses to believe it.
Months, Chenle’s been wasting months letting his dreams affect his daily life and his sense of reality. Stupid Chenle thinks it’s something that he can’t quite wrap his brain around, when it’s not. He’s gone through random mornings waking up somewhere in a place that doesn’t feel like his bedroom when it actually is and at a time that doesn’t feel like the present. He’s witnessed people making love in secluded corners in England and innocent women and children being sacrificed in wars. He’s been on the receiving end of a treatment for the royalty, and other unbelievable occurrences, but Chenle insists that those are merely dreams and nothing else. Still, he doesn’t understand them and he’s tired.
So when a bartender comes up to him and pours him another glass of some alcohol he doesn’t really care the name of, Chenle grabs the bartender’s wrist and confidently asks, “Do you believe in time travelling? Or… whatever.”
“Uh,” the bartender raises his eyebrows at him, confusion apparent in his eyes. He’s cute, Chenle’s drunk brain tells him.
“Thanks, I guess,” the bartender says. It takes Chenle a few seconds to realize he has uttered it out loud, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter. He glances at the badge pinned to the bartender’s vest. Jaemin. Huh. Doesn’t sound Chinese to him.
“Yeah, I’m not from around here,” Chenle must have said it out loud again, so he simply ignores the churning embarrassment in his stomach, goes for the refilled glass and gulps it down as Jaemin states, “I don’t…” he pauses, sounding unsure, “quite believe in time travelling. Or whatever.”
“Huh,” the alcohol burns his throat and Chenle absolutely hates it. His ears are buzzing and the music is too loud. He hates every second of the fact that he’s here, but he chugs the remaining nasty liquid in his glass.
For some reasons, Jaemin is no longer behind the counter, yet he’s sitting beside Chenle on the barstool and intensely looking at him with an expression Chenle can’t quite decipher. Chenle wants to ask what he’s doing, shouldn’t he be working or doing something else, but nothing comes out and it’s only a chaos of words in his mind now. He can barely make out the soothing smile on Jaemin’s face, he sort of looks like the constant presence in his recurring dreams (but perhaps only because his vision is a bit blurry), and he coughs.
Jaemin is still smiling as he fixes Chenle with a somewhat serious look, “I have a friend who does, though. I could introduce you to him sometime?”
Chenle nods all too quickly before realising what the bartender has said. He shakes his head immediately afterward, putting his hand atop of the bartender’s on the counter.
“No.”
“May I ask why not?”
“I don’t care who he is,” Chenle looks at Jaemin straight in the eyes. His mind is running a mile a minute and he can’t quite keep up. “I want to know you instead, if you’ll have me.”
“Why so?” Jaemin asks, sounding amused, “Is it because you think I’m cute?” He lets out a soft giggle as he stares back at him fiercely. There are determination and bright stars in Jaemin’s eyes, and Chenle swears they’re the prettiest pair of eyes he has ever seen in his life. Chenle wants to drown in them if he can.
“Thank you, again.”
“What for?”
“The eyes thing? Yours are really pretty, too.” Jaemin grins widely, intertwining his fingers with Chenle’s. If Chenle wasn’t drunk, he wouldn’t have been this bold. He’s kind of grateful for it.
“I’m drunk,” Chenle blurts out.
Jaemin laughs in response, soft and sweet, and Chenle thinks he will never get tired of hearing him laugh.
“Yes, you are and you need to go home.”
“But I want to keep talking to you,” Chenle whines. Home is certainly where Chenle doesn’t want to be, but Jaemin is right. He would rather be treating his hangover in the comfort of his house than finding himself curled up on some park bench in the morning.
“You can do that next time,” Jaemin utters simply. Chenle feels giddy at the prospect of a next time.
Chenle doesn’t exactly know how to feel knowing that a complete stranger is talking to him and being so considerate, and he’s more than sure Jaemin doesn’t even know his name. So when Jaemin grabs him by the arm and asks him for his address, snatches his phone from his pocket to probably call a cab, and lastly tells him the drinks are on the house, Chenle feels like an asshole. Jaemin ushers him out and tells him to get home safely, with that charming smile of his, and Chenle, in his drunken state, briefly thinks he’s in love.
But he’s not. Or he may be. He simply plops down on his bed as soon as he arrives home, and flies to dreamland.
/
Chenle remembers the first time he saw Jaemin.
They were certainly not in a band, nor did they know each other. It was a different life they were living, but Chenle is certain it was him that he saw from his bedroom’s window. His black locks falling over his eyes and the grin on his face – they were kids, and to say the least, their worlds were not mingled. Chenle wishes he could go back in time to experience everything for himself, to see more than what his brain can supply him with.
But he can’t. Every wish he’s ever had always remains as merely a wishful thinking.
“How much do you know about the world?” Jaemin asks, shattering the silence that has been lingering in the air around them, bordering on a tad too long. Chenle starts fiddling with the hem of his thin sweater as his eyes dart over Jaemin's (very, very pretty) hand that’s gripping a cigarette between his middle and ring finger. Jaemin coughs, blowing out the smoke he’s inhaled into the cityscape and blinding lights. The night is quiet, calm, the usual hustle and bustle nowhere to be found and a bit too windy to his liking, but Chenle isn’t complaining.
Chenle ponders over the question for a moment, allowing the silence to take over the atmosphere again before he runs a hand through his already unkempt hair. The outskirts of the city are visible from where he and Jaemin are perched at and his eyes are fixated on it, various ideas of running away and starting over flashing through his mind. He turns his head slightly to gain a better look at Jaemin, cigarette dangling from his dry lips.
“The world is a lot of things,” Chenle finally replies and Jaemin is now facing him with one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. Chenle looks away sheepishly, feeling the heat rise up to his cheeks and coughs in a pitiful attempt to conceal it before he continues, “but I think complicated explains it best. That much I know.”
Jaemin laughs, soft and brimming with undefined joy that Chenle can’t help but laugh as well. He briefly thinks of all the other times, and not only in this lifetime (Chenle thinks this version of Jaemin is a lot different than what he’s used to), where Jaemin has ever been this carefree around him: letting his guards down even just for a short moment that Chenle ever so passionately waits for and cherishes, so he can slip and tiptoe his way through. Slowly, too slow, but Chenle doesn’t mind.
All for little pieces of Jaemin’s heart to complete the puzzle.
“You’re lying,” Jaemin remarks shortly after the laughter has died down, tone flat and so devoid of emotions as if stating the obvious. Which he is. Chenle simply smiles, head falling back to gaze at the hideous night sky with no stars or moon in sight. He, ironically, both hates and loves how Jaemin can read him so easily like an open book, while Chenle’s struggling—feeling as though he’s always walking on eggshells around him and one wrong move the sirens will go off. It screams danger in capital, bold letters, but Chenle has always had a penchant for adventures.
“I agree, though,” Jaemin adds after blowing the smoke out again. Chenle doesn’t fancy him smoking, has voiced his disapproval out in the open a few times in the past, but Jaemin never actually pays it any mind. Chenle winces a little at the memory of the both of them arguing over smoking, but he attempts to smile and lets out a half-hearted chuckle.
“You always do.”
Chenle has his gaze locked on Jaemin and he sighs. Jaemin seems so at peace with himself tonight and Chenle has no idea why, other than the very obvious cigarette, but he likes it. The usual tension on Jaemin’s shoulder is nowhere to be found right now, the tip of his ears are rosy from the wind, and the look in his eyes is filled with contentment. Chenle is very proud of him; he played the drums to his heart’s content during their gig for the small audience they had earlier. Jaemin is always passionate, never letting any single detail slip from his grip, but something about the way he performed tonight is different. Everything about Jaemin is different tonight. This version of Jaemin is different. Chenle can’t say that he doesn’t like it because he does, but it’s driving him a little insane. Chenle simply wants to be with him.
Jaemin, as if knowing that Chenle has been thinking about him, all of a sudden turns his head and looks at Chenle straight in the eyes, smiling. Chenle widens his eyes, forehead furrowed. Jaemin leans in slowly, blowing smoke to his face which Chenle closes his eyes to.
Jaemin doesn’t spare a single second before pressing his chapped lips against Chenle’s, and Chenle’s heart jumps.
/
Chenle remembers the exact moment his life had begun.
He was only fifteen when he fled the palace grounds. He had no choice back then - he would much rather live the sad life of a commoner than be betrothed to a woman older and wealthier simply to salvage his family’s good name and financial status. He knows what he did was awfully selfish of him, which he was never taught to be, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t about to spend the good years of his life in waste where he could’ve been out there in the world, exploring every little detail of things. He’s certain his mother would reprimand him if she knew, yelling things along the lines of how a royal prince should always abide by the rules.
He can’t care less now. He is now seventeen and his best friend is eighteen, and Chenle thinks of how far he’s come in the past two years. He’s been living with Jaemin’s parents on the other side of the country, far away from his capital where his family resides, and he has a job with a stable pay. Chenle smiles to himself quietly, but he is soon withdrawn of his own reverie when he catches the sight of his best friend waving at him enthusiastically from his parents’ backyard. His smile quickly turns into a grin so wide as he approaches Jaemin with a bounce to his step.
“Jaemin!” Chenle is happy as he shouts, to which Jaemin grins back at him as widely and opens his arms, waiting for Chenle to arrive in his embrace. Chenle practically jumps into it and Jaemin has a little bit of a difficult time remaining steady, but Chenle pays him no mind.
Old habits die hard – Chenle thinks to himself as he asks Jaemin for a piggyback ride to the beach, to which he complies almost all too immediately and eagerly. Chenle lets out a soft giggle when Jaemin crouches down for him, when he circles his arms and legs around Jaemin’s neck and waist, and when they start walking. He does not think he is able to contain all sorts of happy feelings bubbling up inside him, like butterflies in his stomach, and he likes to think Jaemin feel the same way as he does.
The walk to the beach is only a few minutes from Jaemin’s parents’ house, and soon enough they are already passing through dozens of people surrounding them, movements clumsy yet eager to reach the shore amidst the hassle they are in. Jaemin trips over thin air several times but Chenle is there to always keep him steady, fastening his arms and legs around him with a whisper of be careful amidst giggles. Chenle can hear a woman’s voice calling for his name from somewhere close and he is sure it is Jaemin’s mother, but Chenle disregards it entirely in his haste. He makes a mental note to apologise to her later when they get home, but at this time it’s not the most important matter at hand, so Chenle continues to cling onto Jaemin tight until he can see water palpating Jaemin’s feet. Jaemin halts his track and puts Chenle down to get on his own two feet the same time the wind blows against them, music filling his hearings and he turns around, inspecting the curious glance Jaemin is giving him before he mutters, “Here we are.”
“It’s as pretty as it’s always been,” Jaemin mutters as he looks straight toward the sky filled with floating lanterns, voice almost inaudible as it fades along with the music and the wind. “But still never as pretty as you.”
“You and your sugar induced mouth, Jaemin,” Chenle laughs in embarrassment, flinging his body simultaneously against Jaemin’s side, cheeks tinted with pink. “That’s nonsense.”
“Chenle,” Jaemin says after a long moment of silence, a little too quiet to catch, but Chenle catches it anyway. Jaemin grins as he swiftly takes Chenle by the wrist, parting the people around with ease and practiced techniques and dragging him even closer to the sea. Jaemin puts his hands on Chenle's waist and smiles, leans close to his ear and whispers tenderly, “Dance with me.”
Jaemin is dressed in a set of their country’s traditional garments, the colour reminding Chenle of the sunset they both fancy to watch when the time is ticking close to evening. Deep orange and magenta with a little hint of yellow. Chenle can’t help but become fascinated with how the attire fits Jaemin a bit too well. He smiles and nods slightly when Jaemin nudges his cheek, pulling him out of his momentary reverie. They start slow, Chenle placing his hands atop Jaemin’s broad shoulder, Jaemin guiding his steps with care.
They have done this more times than they could count and they are more than familiar with how each other moves to the music. The tune is soft despite the burning excitement from all the people surrounding them, but they do not pay it any mind. The voices are blurred out and the mere sound accessing Chenle’s ears is the pleasant music and Jaemin’s deep breaths ghosting against his face. Every sway of Jaemin’s hips is practiced, every step they take is synchronised—backward, forward, and repeat. Chenle slips a little gasp out of the small space between his lips when he casts his eyes to look at Jaemin in the eyes to find him looking at Chenle already, gaze filled with uncontainable adoration. Jaemin looks so fond and Chenle feels warm, all sorts of butterflies coiling in the pit of his stomach.
When the music slowly but surely comes to a stop, sounds of instruments blown by the wind, Jaemin pulls Chenle closer to his embrace and rests his head on the slope of Chenle’s neck. Chenle feels, hears their hearts beating loudly against one another as Jaemin whispers a marry me, Chenle with his breath against his neck sending shivers down his spine, to which Chenle nods solemnly and a little too passionately. He breathes out a yes a moment after and Jaemin only tightens his grip around him.
Chenle is entirely certain that it is more beautiful than anything he has ever experienced throughout his entire life.
/
Chenle wishes he doesn’t remember anything.
His mind flashes back to a hazy memory of walking down the aisle with Jaemin waiting for him on the altar. He can easily recall when and where it happened and all the feelings he had at that time. Though if he tried explaining it now, everyone would without no doubt think that he’s out of his mind, that he’s delusional. No one would believe him. Because it never happened to begin with.
Not in this current life he’s living now, at least Chenle thinks so.
The only marriage that both he and Jaemin know of occurred precisely two years ago when they were both still fresh out of college and Jaemin was so, so in love. He was young and dumb and spontaneous, which led him to get down on one knee with a Cheeto ring in his grip right after acquiring their Bachelor’s degree. Jaemin made a rash decision, but frankfully Chenle doesn’t have it in him to blame Jaemin.
Anyone would want to marry The Lee Donghyuck in a heartbeat if they had the chance to do so.
Chenle squints his eyes in an attempt to make out a figure making its way to the kitchen sloppily, before the realisation dawns in on him that it’s just his roommate slash best friend Jaemin, coming home at ass o’clock in the morning after probably… ten? shots of vodka. He figures he’s not really up for a guessing game, considering how bad Jaemin is with liquor and he’s just terribly wasted. No matter the amount. Bad may also be an understatement, too.
Letting out a sigh as he goes and finds Jaemin slumped against the counter, hands on his stomach and eyes teary, Chenle somehow thinks he deserves to be paid for this. It’s the fourth time this week and the thirteenth time this month, so Chenle simply opts for a smile and crouches down to pull the crying boy into his arms.
To his surprise, Jaemin is pliant. Unlike any other time his attempts to comfort the boy have, to say the least, always flunked, it’s a nice change of situation. Chenle milks it out in the best way that he can, rubbing soothing circles on Jaemin’s back, humming the tune of his favourite song, and simply waiting for his sobs to calm down.
When he does, he opens his mouth to ask, “Do you think I’m dramatic?”
“Yes, but no, not really.”
Jaemin pauses for a moment before he laughs; laughing in a way that renders his entire body quivering, masking the sobs that simultaneously go off harder and Chenle honestly has no idea what to do. It breaks something in him to witness his best friend being this vulnerable and damaged, so Chenle only pulls him in tighter, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
“Do you,” Jaemin sniffles, “think I’m pathetic?”
Chenle shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
Jaemin brings his hand up to wipe the tears streaming down his face and smiles sadly. “I don’t know,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “I’m obviously pathetic enough to hope that a marriage like mine would last until those ‘death do us part’ bullshit, right?”
Chenle doesn’t know what to say.
“See. You think so.”
“No!” Chenle denies quickly, voice rising a pitch higher in panic as he lets go of his embrace and puts both of his palms on top of Jaemin’s shoulder. He stares right into Jaemin’s eyes in an attempt to provide some sort of a reassurance that no, he’s not pathetic. Chenle’s mind is clattered, a train of things he should be saying right now moving in circles at full speed, but he finds it incredibly difficult to vocalize them. So he stares and stares before he slowly opens his mouth, “You’re not pathetic, okay? You’re allowed to have hopes.”
Silence. Jaemin blinks.
“You might have made a reckless decision, but it wasn’t stupid,” Chenle runs a hand through his hair in frustration, and he feels nervous now that Jaemin is scrutinizing his every move. “It wasn’t stupid. You even managed to go this far, perhaps you two just aren’t compatible.”
“Just because you’re divorced doesn’t mean you’re alone,” he finally says. He can feel the heat rising up to his cheeks and he wishes the earth would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. Jaemin still isn’t saying anything so he takes a deep breath before he continues, “you’ll always have me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Chenle smiles, soft and sweet and full of reassurance. “You will always have me.”
“I’ll always have you.”
/
Chenle remembers the exact moment his entire life had flashed before his eyes.
The hustle and bustle of the morning rush is filling the streets, it’s way too crowded and Chenle almost loses his mind from all the voices and noises entering his ears. He’s lightheaded, a little wobbly on his feet, and he grabs Jisung by the arm so as to not lose him in the sea of unfamiliar faces. He’s about to call for his boyfriend Jaemin before he hears the sound of a screeching car coming to a halt, he’s not sure what’s happening but Jisung is dragging him, easing their way forward by sliding between still bodies hovering around the commotion.
Chenle is still not registering what is actually going on, not until his gaze lands on a puddle of red on the concrete road and Jisung’s endless scream of what sounds similar to variations of Jaemin’s name. Then it hits him, hard, like a direct punch to his gut, and Chenle doesn’t know what to do besides reaching out to pull his brother into his arms and hold him close. Everyone is talking over each other, he can barely make out the sirens of an ambulance arriving their way. There’s someone taping on his shoulder with a continuous mutter of an apology, but Chenle can’t care less. The next thing he knows is he and Jisung are being manhandled into the ambulance, and Chenle hears Jisung bursting out to tears when someone he predicts as a nurse moves towards them to tell them it was too late and that she’s sorry.
To say that Chenle is at a loss for words is an understatement. He feels nothing but his soul being dragged out of his body, and it’s so awfully ironic because he is still very much alive and instead Jaemin’s soul is the one that has driven away from this realm. Chenle wants nothing more than this to be a sole nightmare, one he will certainly wake up from in the morning with Jaemin embracing him from behind, still deep and snoring in his sleep. Chenle can’t bring himself to accept the reality that Jaemin is no longer here.
Chenle has completely blocked out his surroundings. He doesn't even realize that he’s slouched on the sidewalk until Jisung approaches him, draping his arm over his shoulder and telling him that they need to go to the hospital. Chenle simply nods in response, following Jisung without much complaint. He can’t find it in him to fight back.
They hold Jaemin’s funeral the day after. At that moment, Chenle promptly decides that he hates everything about funerals. The overall atmosphere, the all black attire, the smell of flower bouquets, the expression on everyone’s faces, and the endless crying. Moreover, the fact that Jaemin is the one being buried seven feet under is easily the cherry on top. Chenle curses the universe that after all these lifetimes, the one where he acquires the sad ending is the one where he’s happy together with Jaemin. Not that he’s ever been not happy with Jaemin because, well, it’s Jaemin. The person he has fallen in love with over and over again without fail.
Nothing can ever prepare him for the reality that he has to get through the rest of his life without Jaemin by his side. Not even in any lifetime. Nothing, never.
/
Chenle remembers the first time he went to the beach.
The sun was up and all in its blinding glory, the sand was white and soft. There were birds chirping and flying across the horizon. It was coincidentally the same time he first met Jaemin and it was also Jaemin who brought him there. Human Jaemin. Chenle beams at the memory.
The water is prodding underneath his feet and the sand is clinging to his jeans in a way that makes him uncomfortable, but Chenle has more important matters at hand. His gaze is forward, never leaving the waves that crash slowly to the shore where he’s currently standing and beyond the horizon where dark hues of red and orange encounter the deep ocean. Chenle fiddles with the hem of his sweater, patience wearing thin as the sky grows darker in every passing second. He starts humming a little tune he heard earlier when he passed by the market in favor of composing himself, only to get more impatient and restless, but Chenle remains trying.
It’s been months since the last time Chenle saw him, and blame it on the nonexistent technology under the sea so he’s had no way to keep in touch with him, it feels like years to Chenle. Far too long. When Chenle catches a sight of a blinding glow and spots of purple and red moving delightfully in the waters, he accidentally kicks the picnic basket he placed near his right foot, but a smile so wide that it’s almost like a grin starts invading his features and Chenle can’t care less about his toes or his picnic basket. “Jaemin!”
By the remaining time that takes for Jaemin to swim all the way over to where Chenle is, he’s itching to touch him, to stroke his damp blue locks, to kiss his lips–
Water pours over him all of a sudden, leaving him drenched in his wake and there’s a sound, a giggle, a high-pitched laughter from a few miles in front of him that Chenle misses so much. He blinks for a moment, confused, before he jumps and runs all the way towards the blinding glow and red and purple, tripping over something akin to a seaweed in his haste.
Chenle laughs in utter delight when he’s managed to obtain an armful of the glow of Jaemin, and they both laugh until the sun is no longer seen in the sky and the moon is slowly peeking out of its hideaway to take over. It’s dark, but bright, and all Chenle can think of is how pretty Jaemin looks–blue hair damp and sticking to his forehead, radiating his own light and warmth that keep Chenle coming back for more because he’s in love.
“Hi, Lele,” Jaemin mutters, voice deep yet sweet like the birds chirping, and Chenle swears to all sorts of Gods and Goddesses that Jaemin is a gift, a blessing sent from the holy realm up above. For him. “Long time no see.”
Chenle kisses Jaemin on the lips, quick and chaste that turns his own cheeks soft pink, before draping him closer to his embrace and seeking out the warmth that Jaemin emits and the fresh scent of salt water that Chenle can never get enough of by nuzzling his neck. It’s a good kind of addiction, and Chenle figures he wouldn’t mind being addicted to it for the rest of his life.
“I missed you so much,” Jaemin confesses and Chenle slips a giggle between the small space of his lips, body shuddering in his embrace. He reluctantly lets go of Chenle and places his hands on his shoulder, gripping tight but not enough to hurt him and looks at him straight in his brown eyes. “I swear, the only thing that has kept me going these past few months is the thought of meeting you. And now I’m here.”
Chenle presses a finger against his lips and Jaemin is a man of impulse, so he takes the chance to kiss the finger and Chenle smiles. Bright. “I missed you just as much, Jaem.”
It is the comfortable kind of silence that follows. Both of them are smiling at one another with no words to share because words are never enough, it’s a thing that Chenle has always known since long before he met Jaemin–and Jaemin seems to know it as well as he does. They stay like that, pressed against each other until the full moon is high up in the sky and Jaemin seems to be glowing even brighter. Chenle is incredibly enamoured by how gorgeous, how breathtaking Jaemin looks basking underneath the dim moonlight, several strands of his hair already drying from being out of the water for quite a long time and sticking out towards the direction of the wind.
Jaemin closes the space between them, slowly, arms looping around Chenle’s thin waist carefully. He seems to find Chenle’s lips the moment he squeezes his eyes to a shut, but Chenle beats him to it as he immediately presses his own lips against Jaemin’s. It’s slow and Jaemin is kissing him back with just as much passion. Chenle takes all the time he can get to savour the feeling of Jaemin’s salty lips simply pressed against his before he deepens the kiss, eager to relish in every sort of feelings churning in the pit of his stomach. He feels Jaemin sigh into the kiss and how his heart is beating too fast.
When Chenle pulls back, Jaemin is positively glowing all over. “I love you.”
“I’ll never trade you for the universe.”
/
Chenle remembers everything.
It took Chenle way too much time to realize that the recurring dreams he’s been having are certainly about his past. He doesn’t understand what made this lifetime different, but he can’t care less about it. As long as he has encountered Jaemin again, he whole-heartedly thinks everything is going to turn out fine. Speaking from his own experiences, at least.
Chenle has woken up to a dozen texts from the contact name ‘bartender <3’ asking him whether he got home okay and whether he was up for the so called next time or not (which Chenle has replied with “yes of course!!!” to both questions), along with a few grade A quality memes about hangovers. He supposes this version of Jaemin is funny; funnier than the ones in his previous lifetimes and perhaps also more talkative. Chenle likes it.
The night air is a bit too chilly to his liking as he strolls down the still crowded street, humming his favorite song under his breath. A few stars are present, not enough to form a constellation but enough to make the piceous dark sky seem less lonely, and certainly enough to grace a tender, barely there smile upon his features. He should be wondering why a total stranger like Jaemin is asking to meet up with him at night where things have more possibility to go south, but Jaemin isn’t and has never been a total stranger and even though Chenle barely knows him this time, he’s positive that this Jaemin will turn out the same. Chenle believes in him. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, silently wishing upon the few twinkling stars that everything will fall into place.
Chenle halts and takes a brief moment to lean back on some shady nightclub wall. From the corner of his eye, he can see an all too familiar figure approaching him with a bounce in his steps. He turns around and waves enthusiastically at Jaemin who immediately runs toward him as soon as he sees him.
“Hey,” Jaemin greets him, breathing a bit short from running, eyes sparkling, and there’s sweat pooling on the slope of his neck. Chenle looks up, smiling just as brightly. For some reason, he feels giddy being around Jaemin now that he’s sober and able to appreciate the beauty that Jaemin always seems to hold. He’s ethereal, Chenle’s brain supplies.
“I guess you complimenting me is going to be our always?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry your cute head about it,” he laughs, winking at him flirtily and starts walking ahead.
Jaemin is practically a demon in the embodiment of an angel, or vice versa, honestly at this point Chenle isn’t sure anymore. Jaemin is alluring and particularly this Jaemin is incredibly easy to be around with. Even if he’s back to square one again; getting to know the same person over and over again, but Chenle doesn’t mind. As long as it’s Jaemin. He thinks to himself that everything really is alright, when he stares at the empty gaps between his fingers with an empty mind until Jaemin reaches out to fill them with that same look of love.
They’ll be okay. Chenle will always find his way back to Jaemin and fall in love as if it’s the first time again. He knows that it’s the same on Jaemin’s part, too.
They will be okay.