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The night sky stretches wide- the stars more visible out in the desert than in the heart of the city. A full moon sits in the center of it, tufts of grey blurring the shadows of its crates, turning its bright light to a gentle glow. The open roof of Jeno’s convertible is pulled back tonight, allowing the warm breeze to wash over Jeno and Renjun as they drive out of the city, the road widening as the buildings fall away to dirt.
They’re not far from home, never are. Not that either of them has much of a home anyway, besides each other.
The drive is nothing new. On particularly bad nights, Jeno would roll up to Renjun’s aunt’s place, trying to keep his grumbling engine as quiet as possible. Renjun would burst out of the house mere minutes later, more often than not with tear tracks down his face, or pent-up frustration gripping at his chest, not caring about slamming the car door shut too loudly. The drive out of the city from then is quiet- no talking, no music. Just silence as Jeno drives them away from reality and Renjun calms his roaring heart.
Tonight, the situation is just that.
“Jeno,” Renjun starts, speaking for the first time since he’d got in the car. His voice is scratchy, as if all the moisture in his throat has been soaked up to form the tears of the past hour.
“Hm?”
Renjun sniffles, then swallows. “Let’s do it.”
Jeno feels his heel loosen on the gas pedal, three simple words leaving him more shaken than he’d expected. The empty road ahead of them allows him to face Renjun for a moment; his disheveled state, leaning back into the aged leather as he blinks at Jeno, pleading, lashes still damp from crying.
Jeno forces himself to look away, swallowing. “Do what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” Renjun whispers.
And he’s right- Jeno does. They’ve talked about it time and time again, but there’s something different in Renjun’s voice this time, in his eyes, both so much stronger yet more vulnerable than ever before, communicating more than Jeno is ready to commit to.
But then he turns to Renjun again, looking at him with desperation so clear in his glassy eyes, begging wordlessly for the escape they’ve dreamed of since they were sixteen, since the first time Jeno turned up at the junkyard with a forming black eye, ignoring the persistent throb in his eye to try to stop Renjun from ripping his hair out in frustration.
So he swallows back his fear, and asks, “are you sure?”
Renjun doesn’t nod or speak, but the look in his eyes is enough confirmation. There’s no more wishing glint, or the sparkle of what-ifs, like thinking of a distant dream they never thought they could have. There’s only stone-cold determination and an unbreakable will behind it, like a strong wave that threatens to knock Jeno over.
Running away is a scary thought, despite being just as liberating. Jeno would often think about it when he’s left alone on the big metal crate in the junkyard where they spend most of their time. It’s a thought that is only brought up occasionally, (only when they’re alone) but once they’ve started, it’s like a dam has been broken, and words spill from their minds like a torrent of water. They get lost in a reality where they’re free to heal their wounds, figuratively and literally. Most of the time, it’s Renjun speaking, words lined with gold as he speaks of a house they could never afford, a lifestyle they could never have. It was therapeutic to Jeno, loving the nights he would spend with his eyes shut, images of a better life running across the back of his eyelids with the boy he loves in his arms, no matter how unattainable it is.
“Let’s do it,” Renjun repeats firmly, the unshed tears in his eyes dry, instead replaced by a newfound determination.
“Let’s run.”
Two days later.
The sharp smell of rust grows thick in Jeno’s lungs as he lies back with a groan, the threadbare sofa shifting with his weight. It’s the same every night; starless skies, violet clouds, and the piercing glow of flashlights as a bunch of ragged teenagers scavenge the mountains of junk for used metal.
Usually, Jeno wouldn’t be here alone. Usually, he would find himself halfway through a bottle of stolen booze with Mark and Jaemin on the crate across the yard, watching over the junkyard from high up. Either that or he would be in the hut, bent over the hood of his car, sweat dripping down his back in the sweltering heat.
Or, more often than not, he’d be here, on the de-legged sofa on the hut’s metal roof, arms wrapped around Renjun’s waist, legs in a tangled heap and giggling about something completely unrelated to their day.
Tonight, he’s alone, the grease-stained tank top on his torso fluttering gently as warm wind pushes through the junkyard. The voices below are foreign to him, yet expected, as new groups of kids come in every night. It’s peaceful background noise for Jeno, which keeps his thoughts from straying to the constant shouting that occurs in the place he’s meant to call home.
“Jeno!”
Jeno’s eyes shoot open at the sound of his name, not realizing they had closed in the first place. A familiar head of unruly dark hair pops up from the ladder side of the crate, and Jeno immediately jerks up at the sight of it.
“Wha-?”
“I did it.” Renjun blurts, breathless, almost tripping over his own feet. Jeno scrambles up to reach him and ends up with his hands on Renjun’s waist and Renjun’s arms on his. “I did it.”
“Did what?”
“I took the money!” Renjun laughs suddenly, a loud bang ringing through the air around them as tears start pooling in his eyes. It’s different this time, though, and Jeno can feel his heart squeezing in his chest and the immeasurable joy he sees in those familiar dark eyes.
“You- what money?” Jeno keeps his voice as stable as possible, slowly guiding Renjun to the sofa. As he does, he finally takes a good look at Renjun and feels his heart drop to his feet when he sees several new patches of purple and blue blossoming on his arms. His brows furrow as he frowns. “Renjun what-”
But Renjun shakes his head, instantly cutting Jeno off as he laughs again, releasing him only to swipe at his wet cheeks. “Remember the safe I told you about?” Renjun pants, out of breath as they drop to the sofa. Jeno nods. “I took the money.”
Jeno’s jaw drops. Years ago, Renjun mentioned a safe in passing, one filled to the brim with money he later found was meant to be saved for his future education by his parents but was instead being used for less than holy purposes by his aunt and uncle. He was furious then, and Jeno was by him immediately, casting away his own problems to make sure Renjun didn’t accidentally hurt himself in his careless anger.
“You… took the money,” Jeno, says slowly. Renjun nods, and Jeno feels his chest tighten, trying to wrap his head around the implications of Renjun’s actions. “Okay… okay."
Renjun softens suddenly, energy level dropping to Jeno’s when he doesn’t match his enthusiasm. He pulls his arms from Jeno’s biceps to his cheeks, gently lifting his face so they come eye-to-eye. Coarse fingertips scrape along Jeno’s jawline, and he swallows again as he meets Renjun’s seeking eyes, a confused pout sitting beneath it.
“I’m sorry,” Jeno starts. Renjun’s pout morphs into a frown, but not a disapproving one. “I know we’ve talked about this but… I never expected us to do it so… soon.”
Renjun pulls his hands away, and Jeno immediately misses their warmth, the sticky air around him feeling cruel and cold. Instead, he brushes Jeno’s grown-out bangs from his eyes, a sad smile on his lips.
“Do you not want to do it?”
Before he can think twice, Jeno is shaking his head, “That’s not-”
Renjun slides a hand to Jeno’s knee, the heat of it scalding the bare skin that peeks from the rips of his jeans. “We’ve talked about this for three years, Jen. Don’t you think it’s time?”
Jeno opens his mouth to speak, but finds himself at a loss for words.
“I stole the money, Jeno,” Renjun says coldly, focusing on his hand curving over Jeno’s knee, back and forth. His eyes are accusing when he brings them back to Jeno’s face, suddenly defensive. “It’s not like it was theirs in the first place.”
“That’s not it,” Jeno admits, and Renjun pulls his hand away again, leaving Jeno feeling alone again. He fights off the urge to cast his thoughts aside, to say ‘nevermind’ to all of his concerns, and fall into the inevitable chaos running away will bring. “I’m worried about everything that comes after. Where are we going to stay? What are we going to eat? How long will the money last us?”
“We’ve been preparing for this for three years , Jeno,” Renjun pulls away further, and Jeno has to clench his fists to stop him from taking everything back and pulling Renjun close, never to let go. “We even packed!”
Jeno’s mind flashes to the bags locked in the cupboard of the hut and winces. “That wasn’t serious-”
“Then why haven’t you unpacked?” Renjun snaps, accusation searing through his glare. It’s a challenge, chest rising and falling erratically, waiting for Jeno to fight back, to argue.
Instead, Jeno lets his eyes close and pushes the frustration in his chest aside. They’re not perfect, never were, never will be. They’ve argued a lot, loud enough for half the neighborhood to hear, and each time Jeno would be left alone as Renjun stormed away, heart aching with regret.
He’s been alone for so long.
He can’t lose Renjun.
I can’t.
After a few long beats of terse silence, Renjun speaks again. “I get it,” his voice is so soft Jeno barely catches it, surprised. “I’m scared too.” He sighs, then shuffles closer to Jeno before leaning back into the sofa, making it rock dangerously before it settles with the weight shift.
Jeno follows, shoulder pressing into Renjun’s as he melts into the tattered sofa. They sit in silence for a while, picking at loose threads, soaking in their surroundings and each other for the first time since Renjun ascended the ladder.
The night has gotten progressively cooler; goosebumps are prickling at Jeno’s bare arms now, and he can see the same on Renjun’s bruised ones. A surge of anger pulses through him at the sight, wishing more than anything that they weren’t. Countless nights pass through his mind as he stares into the clouds above, most of them filled with shouts of frustration, hot tears between kisses, the heat between them enough to push away the pain from the wounds that paint them.
Jeno is yanked from his thoughts once more as a weight settles on his shoulder. Renjun’s hair is soft against his skin, and tension melts from Jeno’s muscles at the familiar feeling.
“We’re broken, Jun,” Jeno’s voice cracks softly.
“I know,” Renjun replies as Jeno leans his head to Renjun’s, breathing in the soft scent of smoke with an underlying sweetness. “But we can fix us.”
“We can’t fix each other,” Jeno sighs, “Broken people can’t fix broken people.”
Renjun sits up again, and Jeno lifts his head to look at him. “I never said we’ll fix each other ,” Renjun’s fingers drift to Jeno’s jaw, feather-touch tracing the defined bone, and ultimately pulling them together until the tips of their noses touch. “We’ll work on ourselves, together.”
Jeno closes the space between them, letting his world and its problems fall away. He brings his arms around Renjun’s waist, effortlessly pulling him to his lap, his mind drifting to a space between dreams and reality as he melts into the kiss.
In this life, they still fight. They shout at each other and to the sky. They cry, sob, and break, over and over and over.
But in this life, they have the world beyond the junkyard and their broken homes. No longer will they be the Jeno and Renjun they’ve lived as, but new ones. A Jeno and Renjun with scars instead of wounds, tears of joy instead of pain. Happy Jeno and Renjun.
And that’s enough.
One year later.
“What’re you doing out here so early?”
Jeno peels his eyes away from the still dark sky to the pajama-clad boy stepping out onto the balcony. He and Renjun had just bought this new apartment on Renjun’s 20th birthday, a slight upgrade from the cockroach-infested, crumbling one they got at first. It’s slightly more spacious, and the stove in this one works without having to hit it with a pan.
“Couldn’t sleep again?” Renjun asks, resting his elbows on the balcony railing by Jeno. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Me too.”
It hasn’t been easy. They never expected it to be easy, but they didn’t expect it to be this hard either. Nowadays, Jeno barely sees Renjun, usually busy working at the mechanic near the edge of town while Renjun is working extra-long shifts at a restaurant nearby. By the time they’re both home, one is in the shower, and the other is collapsed on the sofa, out old. Sometimes, they don’t even make it to bed.
But it’s mornings like these, when they’re both hit with heavy doses of insomnia, exhaustion still heavy in their bones, that they think about what all of this is for, the pre-dawn sky a reminder of their past.
Jeno presses a kiss to Renjun’s hair, inhaling the scent of the cheap vanilla shampoo they share.
“Wanna go for a drive?”
The car rumbles as they cross the city exit, a good twenty-minute drive from their place. The empty street stores and dark buildings slowly fall away to pale dirt and trees, then fields of endless green. It’s quiet at this time of morning, with the horizon ahead of them beginning to glow orange.
Once the road morphs from tar to dirt, Jeno loosens his foot on the gas until they’re cruising just fast enough that the morning breeze ruffles through their hair without the help of the convertible’s movement, the top pulled back completely.
“You know,” Renjun starts, eyeing the back of Jeno’s hand on the gearshift, “a year ago today, we left.”
Jeno hums, remembering that night. They’d almost gotten into an argument, which wouldn’t have been great since Renjun had just dropped a big duffel bag of cash into the backseat of Jeno’s car minutes before. Initially, Jeno had wanted to leave the next morning, but Renjun insisted they leave that night, mostly because of the money in the car, and the fact that they’d probably bump into their friends in the morning.
Friends , Jeno’s heart twangs as he struggles to recall what Mark’s voice sounded like, or Jaemin’s laugh. They’d left in such a rush that he only had time to scribble a quick note to the two. They were his only home before Renjun, and the guilt of leaving them without so much as proper goodbye makes his heart ache.
A gentle warmth slides over his left hand, and he’s slowly pulled back to the present, catching sight of slender fingers over his. Renjun’s smile is soft, understanding so clear in his eyes; he knows what Jeno is thinking.
“It’s been a tough year, but I don’t regret it,” Renjun’s thumb brushes over the soft skin on Jeno’s knuckles, “I would do it over again if I had to.” He stills for a moment, sighing. “Would you?”
Would I? Jeno can’t help but think over the hectic months. They’d been pushed to the edge multiple times, their relationship straining on more occasions than he can remember. There were tears, nights spent apart, the past playing like a movie in the eye of his mind.
And even though he’d hated everything from then, he almost regretted leaving.
Jeno stops the car in a space by a dewy field, the road still and calm. He pulls his hand from Renjun’s after shifting the car to park, crawls between the front seats, and plops himself in the middle of the backseat, beckoning for Renjun to follow. The dark-haired boy grins, loose strands of black falling over his eyes as he situates himself comfortably next to Jeno with his legs over Jeno’s lap.
They wind their arms around each other waists, basking in the shared warmth as the navy sky begins to color with hues of pink and gold. They remain tangled for a while, Renjun’s head leaning on Jeno’s shoulder as Jeno rubs circles into the small of his back.
Here, the bone-aching dread of the day’s oncoming work evades them, leaving behind space for emptiness, a much-needed beat of silence in their tumultuous lives. Here, the past doesn’t exist. There are no cuts, no bruises. No shouting, or tears. Just faint giggles, warm kisses, and the promise of someone there to catch them when they fall.
It’s here, as Jeno feels Renjun’s heartbeat near his own, where Jeno remembers what this fall was for.
“I would.”
Renjun lifts his head, and Jeno turns to him, faces so close he can see the individual lashes curving away from his eyes as they flicker across Jeno’s face and then back to his eyes.
“Hm?” Renjun hums distractedly.
Jeno laughs softly and presses a kiss on Renjun’s forehead before guiding it back to his shoulder so he can rest against it too. The sun beyond them rises, the windshield sparkling with its light.
“I would do it over again, if it meant forever, like this, with you.”