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Summary
Jisung barely understands how he got here.
Here being here. In this position. Back pushed against the armrest of the couch, legs spread out against the rest of the cushions, with some sort of bird documentary playing as background noise. Chinese takeout left forgotten on the coffee table. In many ways, it would be a typical Saturday night - except, maybe, Chenle would be here too, playing PubG with him on their phones and shit talking their professor. Except Jisung really didn’t want Chenle here right now - because unlike the rest of his typical Saturday nights, he has Renjun on his lap and kissing his neck, and he would actually really fucking hate it if Chenle were here right now. And god, now he’s rambling in his own mind like an idiot.
Or: Jisung and Renjun fuck.