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Renjun stumbles out of the apartment, knocking down a few umbrellas in the process. His eyeliner is smeared under his eyes, he can feel the soft lines of black tears running down his cheeks.
Once the keys are in the strong grasp of his hand, Renjun lets the door fall shut behind him and hurries his way down the stairs. His rings are cutting into his flesh as he wraps his fingers forcefully around the railing.
He has no plan on where to go. He never has, his legs becoming independent while Renjun, once enveloped in the night, falls.
Clenching and unclenching his fists his body crouches over itself as sobs rip from his throat. His chest hurts from the pain of it. Tears squeeze out of his lids, pressed close, as he unsuccessfully tries to even out his breathing, to keep his posture, after all. It happens almost instinctively and as much as he despises it, the words, the slaps that turned into hits someday never left him, kept sticking to him even after all these years of trying to scrub them away, fade them out.
look at him crying again
pathetic
stop crying like a girl already
weak
As always, the words now, too make their way into Renjun's head, wrapping around him like cold, relentless fingers, only ever squeezing closer, closer. He gasps for breath. The tears and thoughts and steps; all come together, rearing up around him like a suffocating wave and Renjun runs. Fast, only faster. The freezing night air is hitting his cheeks and whips around his ears. He lets out a scream, broken and wet, as his legs get tangled and he falls full-body force.
The asphalt drags roughly along Renjun's left cheek, arms sprawled out onto the ground. For a moment Renjun just lies there, eyes closed, as he listens to the frantic beating of his heart pounding in his skull, the blood rushing through his ears. Focusing on the pain slowly sickering through, the adrenalin carefully making way for the pain, letting him endure the coldness of the ground colliding with the hot droplets of blood lightly dripping down from somewhere on his face, mixing with his tears. Black and Red.
He can't tell how late it is when he, for the first time this night, stops purposely. The thoughts, as well as his now staggering steps, slowed down. Renjun wonders how anybody could feel so empty-handed and heavy-hearted at the same time.
Dried tears are stretching the skin of his cheeks and he can't feel his nose, probably bright red by now. He stands like that, tired eyes staring into the opened neon sign blinking haltingly into his face until he feels the threatening prickle of tears. Sniffing and with chattering teeth he reaches for the door, blinking fireworks away.
Renjun enters, accompanied by the annoying sound of a bell dangling from the doorframe above him. A few seconds of silence, in which Renjun contemplates that maybe somebody forgot to close up after their night shift then he hears a voice. A drawn-out "Hello," rings out from the counter, behind which, one second later, a young, grinning face with messy hair appears.
"What can I-"
The boy's expression, whom Renjun guesses to be around his age changes from a cheerful to concerned one in a speed almost comically. Renjun can't help the little chuckle leaving his mouth.
"Do I got dirt on my face or something?" It's evident alone by his voice that he cried, Renjun thinks, letting out an inwardly curse. He hates to be pitied and least of all he needs it from some cashier in a 24hour shop, who, damn his luck, looks dangerously close to someone who would do exactly that.
The other one, obviously being snapped out of his thoughts, clears his throat, scratching at the back of his head as a little colour shot up to his cheeks. "I don't," He begins, eyes shooting back and forth between Renjun and something to his left. "You actually have, yeah."
"And what if I do? You think that's any of your business?" Renjun snaps back. He doesn't show that he's startled by his cold voice. The other doesn't, too. Wearing an unreadable expression that may be very readable and Renjun may just experience way too little social interaction for him to get it, he slowly nods before twisting his head sidewards and a grin starts to creep back onto his features.
"Hot chocolate?" Somehow his eyes, glittering with something kind, childish almost, make it seem like it's important to him that Renjun approves of the offer.
"Okay."
The other's eyes lit up excitedly and Renjun feels terribly torn between smiling and rolling his eyes.
He's back after no time, carrying not only 2 cups of hot chocolate but disinfectant spray and a cloth. Sitting down naturally, Mark, according to the card on his shirt, beams at him. He's pretty, shoots through Renjun's head. Certainly not for the first time since he stepped in the shop, but for sure the most intense one and Renjun, for the first time tonight throws a closer thought on how fucked up he must look.
Avoiding Mark's eyes, he glares over the stuff innocently laying beside the cups. "You like your chocolate a little extraordinary, I see." It's a lame joke but that doesn't seem to stop Mark at all, throwing back his head as he laughs, and he laughs so loud and freely, Renjun can't help but stare.
"Is it okay if I sit down?" Mark asks when he faces Renjun again.
"I'd rather ask you if you're allowed to sit down and have a nice little talk during your shift. Also, you appear pretty sitting right now."
Mark laughs like that again, and Renjun could feel warmth fill his cold limbs. Mark is the one to stare now, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he gazes at Renjun intensely. "I can go if you want that, of course, but I don't think you can leave that cut like that." He vaguely gestures to Renjun's face, then to the disinfectant spray.
"It's not that bad." Renjun rubs over his eyes in a tired motion, before Mark gets a hold of his hand, pulling it down. Renjun wants to protest but Mark is faster.
"It could get worse if you don't disinfect it now." He sounds too convincing for his own good. Renjun groans.
"I'll be quick I promise." Renjun eyes him warily. "You?"
"I, I mean you can't even see the cut, I just thought," Mark splutters out, fiddling with his mug.
'It's okay, if it'll give you peace." It doesn't happen often that Renjun's tongue is faster than his thoughts but he thinks maybe it's worth it when he sees that smile coming back. "Be quick though."
Mark is. He works over the cut delicately, bringing Renjun's face closer to his as his eyes roam all over his face. It goes over unspectacular, until, when Mark is finished he reaches out with his hand to brush Renjun’s bangs into place with his fingers and Renjun makes the horrible mistake of looking Mark in the eyes.
Mark, head slightly turned upwards from where he's half-kneeling to get a better look at the cut, has a faint blush on his cheeks, and his mouth is slightly parted. Now, Renjun wasn’t kidding when he said Mark had a good face. He did. It was very nice.
A wildly honking care out on the street startles Mark out of his daze, and he snatches his hand back from where he’d left it hovering by Renjun’s forehead.
"Um, yeah," Mark clears his throat, moving back into his chair and Renjun does his best to not miss the warmth. "I think it's fine like that for now but if it gets worse you gotta see a doctor."
He cares. He really cares. Renjun doesn't know what comes over him when he feels the tears prick against his eyes, his vision starting to blur. It's pulling him in, this endless suction of thoughts and emotions, all overlapping in one giant mess. His breathing gets uneven and he makes a move to turn away, covering his face with his hands, when Mark grabs him by the wrist, softly pulling against Renjun's direction.
The look he gives Renjun is one of uncertainty but when he opens his mouth, determination is layered under his words.
"You can cry, you know, I won't judge you for like, being human." Mark's slender fingers are still wrapped around Renjun's wrist, eyes so- warm, that Renjun, as the first tears trace tiny marks along his cheeks, for once just lets them.
Let them be seen by someone other than himself. That this person, out of all people, is some blue-haired college student in a 24hour shop at 2 am, he's too tired to think about that.
Under his hiccups, he manages to get out a "Thank you", to which Mark's look only gets warmer as he squeezes him a little tighter, one thumb drawing tiny circles on the back of Renjun's hand.
Renjun stays there for another few hours, another few laughs and another few hot chocolates.