Chapter Text
Things don’t just go away overnight, but they surely come this way.
It happened to him too many times to be surprised, but he is tired nonetheless when it happens again. Again and again.
So now there are at least two of him, two Sichengs.
One of them is the Sicheng that he once was, living in distant memories of everyone. Someone people still think he is, someone they wish he still was. A strong-willed, energetic kid with so much curiosity that yields too many questions at once. It made Sicheng uniquely him. At least, it did in the past, because the other, present one who just appeared one day, is a shadow so frail one can crush with little to no pressure.
And every other Sicheng he wakes up as everyday. Another stranger who inhabited his head and cluttered it to its limits, making him lose any sense of his identity. Another soul ripping his head, throwing scraps all over its surroundings. Making him say the most ridiculous things out of panic and exhaustion. Just babble until all the voices in his head shut up.
It broke him to the point he lost his usual spark and dropped most of his interests. Too ashamed to admit that, however, he pushed through highschool and ended in his dream university, studying his dream major.
But all it takes for this Sicheng to admit defeat now, is a discarded textbook he can’t comprehend a single sentence from and the thought .
Not just any, but one of the worst among many thoughts that had the pleasure to occur in his head. If midterms nearing weren’t enough of a bad thought, biology midterms right behind the corner beat the hell out of them in terms of bad, bad thoughts .
Just when he thought he had everything figured out about his major and don’t get him wrong, because he absolutely adores biomedical engineering, one of his courses, biology, came to make sure his life is miserable enough and he experiences his fair share of crises and breakdowns. Every single day.
Where did his enthusiasm about studying go, he has no idea. He just woke up one day and realized he no longer can enjoy what he does and that all those past successes mean nothing if he can’t do anything of this sort anymore.
A burnout.
And that led to the situation he’s currently in — forehead pressed hard to a study desk in the library, the nose pad of his glasses digging in his nose, Sicheng is in the middle of praying for Earth to swallow him whole, when an incomer approaches him.
“Hey.”
In Pavlovian response to his voice, Sicheng’s head shoots up immediately, bangs hitting his cheeks hard as he whips his head to the source of the sound. For a second, it feels as if they cut right through his skin and tore his flesh apart. And just like a deer caught in the headlights, he looks at the other aghast.
It’s always those pretty that are out there to get me , he thinks as he fixes his glasses and gives the stranger a throughout once over, taking in all his key features like some sort of a poem or a painting. He can’t interpret neither, but he for sure can interpret the guy in front of him.
People in their 20s all look the same, so he can’t really tell if their ages are similar or not. What he knows for sure, however, is that, if he’s even a student, the other doesn’t visit this part of campus often. Sicheng would remember him without a doubt and contemplate whether or not to strike a conversation with him for months, eventually giving up because he’s a coward.
And that’s because he has the loveliest hair he had seen in a while, light brown locks with hints of perm that covered his forehead completely, his sanity the only thing stopping Sicheng from reaching his hand and sweeping through them with his fingers.
The rest, he supposes, is a handsome face that he can’t really afford to pay attention to, because it may result in maintaining an eye contact and that Sicheng is all but ready for. But he catches a quick glimpse of those shiny eyes that crinkle upon meeting with cheeks raising and lips of an interesting shape stretching in a wide smile that brings out something Sicheng had never really realized he likes. Dimples .
His enchantment, however, doesn’t stop the question that pops up on the back of his head.
What is he doing here?
There is a reason why Sicheng chose this day and hour to study in the library. It is late Friday afternoon, time for most of the college students to prepare for frat parties. Or, they could have started partying already for this matter. Not many people visit the library at this time, much less stay here and spend the rest of their afternoon (and evening) studying. Sicheng wouldn’t be any different if he had a party he could attend or if it wasn’t for those damn midterms he had to force himself to study for.
“Hey,” the incomer repeats. An awkward, unwelcome smile is fighting its way onto Sicheng’s face like it has a mind of its own, despite there being nothing to smile about so far. The only thing he can do to suppress it, is counterbalancing it with a frown, which makes his face sour peculiarly.
“Hi,” he replies eventually. “Do you need anything? I’m pretty busy here, unfortunately.” He gestures at his workspace suggestively, putting double effort to keep a straight face. But what’s in front of him is a discarded textbook and a loose paper sheet with doodles of Fullmetal Alchemist characters looking back at him, disappointment plainspoken on their drawn faces. “With studying, I mean,” comes a clarification coated with embarrassment. He grabs the paper and crumples it audibly, shoving it down his pocket right after. It wasn’t that good anyways.
“I can see.” Before Sicheng’s attention switches back to man’s words, he tries once again peeking at him. He notices a few pale, almost fading scratches in different places on his face that don’t seem to be the work of any feline, he is sure of that. A confirmation comes soon after when the stranger rubs at the spot right between his eyebrows, occasionally catching his nail on skin. It becomes red fast. The same is the case with his forearms and neck that peek from an oversized hoodie he rolled up the sleeves of. “Is it biology?” he asks and Sicheng nods, coming back to reality. It all happens on a whim, but his body tenses anyway, afraid of being caught staring. He stills his sight at his own hands, hiding them inside of his striped cardigan sleeves. “Can I take a look?”
Way too many alarms start ringing in his head as Sicheng shifts his gaze to the textbook, contemplating whether or not to go along with the other boy’s odd request. Skeptically, he slides it closer to brunet and musters up all his courage to look up at him expectantly, tracing all his moves with his eagle eye.
“Bro, these textbooks are shit,” he concludes after taking a peek at colorful graphics and lengthy explanations that make no coherent sense, various formatting everywhere and text divided in an odd way, lopsided columns and flashy tables everywhere. “My head hurts.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sicheng interjects, scrunching his nose. Another pesty habit of his he wishes he could get rid of. Trade for something else, less agonizing. He bets he looks like a fool now, face twisted into something incomprehensible, ugly. Although the other boy’s expression shows nothing but surprise upon hearing his words, Sicheng’s face tingles uncomfortably with uneasiness and his glasses start feeling heavier on his nose. He’s glad he hasn’t started pulling at his hair yet, but with everything it feels like it’s just a matter of time until he does. Get yourself together, Sicheng.
Incomer sighs. “Okay, dude.”
“Not that either.”
“Man—”
“I GIVE UP,” Sicheng groans, slamming his head onto the study desk in defeat. He misses a playful smirk the other boy, satisfied with the results of his teasing, fails to contain.
“You know.” A chuckle is all it takes for Sicheng to lift his head up again. He always follows the sound, after all. “It would be easier if you just told me your name.”
“You didn’t ask for it,” the sitting boy points out, peering at him suspiciously and starts playing with his sleeve, pulling at it at a regular, linear pace. Maybe if he focuses on something, he’ll trick his body into thinking there’s nothing to react to. Nothing to scrunch his nose at, nothing to smile about and nothing to awkwardly laugh about.
“Yeah, I didn’t.” A confirmation emphasized with a hum. “That’s why I’m asking now. I’m Jaehyun, by the way.” At that, he cracks a smile and laughs soundly, sending vibrations down Sicheng’s spine. His movements stop abruptly. Holy shit, did his tone just get a few registers lower?
Jaehyun.
Sicheng has no recollection of any Jaehyuns, meaning the boy in front of him (who now stands nonchalantly, his hand supporting the body that leans on the wooden desk) is the first Jaehyun he met. It might be silly, but it makes perfect sense for Sicheng to associate names with people — people of certain names have their personalized, certain pictures of themselves in Sicheng’s head. It is a bit harder with Jaehyun, however. Sicheng could really use some help now, a manual perhaps.
A guide to Jaehyuns for dummies.
He laughs under his breath, but shrinks immediately when he realizes he’s not alone . “Sicheng,” he mutters eventually, embarrassed.
“Cool,” Jaehyun chimes, his face painted with a freshly formed grin. There’s no snark to that, but it sparks uneasiness in Sicheng nonetheless. He always had a hard time differentiating sincerity from mock. Maybe, because he is way too used to the latter. “So, Sicheng,” Jaehyun takes a new subject up, Sicheng’s name rolling on his tongue like a melody, “are you open to recommendations?”
“Recommendations?” He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“Biology, of course,” Jaehyun snickers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it is , Sicheng thinks, nodding in understanding although his face falls down. “Unless you’re content with this monstrosity of a textbook.” He points at the poor thing.
“Okay, where’s the catch?” Sicheng hates how his question came out. Something between panting and whining, cracks in his voice audible now more than ever. He suddenly remembers another one of his many wishes — to have a steady tone. “Sorry, nose’s stuffed,” he comes up with a believable lie, massaging the bridge of the newly revealed culprit responsible for his misery.
“Catch?” Jaehyun echoes. “There’s no catch, really,” comes a refutation. “I just happen to know better… resources, you might say.”
Mysterious. Cool.
“It came out lame, didn’t it?” Other than crimson red blooming on the tips of his ears, the other boy is handling the embarrassment pretty well, chuckling at this unfortunate and undoubtedly failed attempt to impress the other.
But Sicheng doesn’t mind and doesn’t notice. He’s on the brink of having a headache, numb pain tugging at his temples continuously. He feels like babbling nonsense all of the sudden, but with last remnants of self control, he purses his lips and croaks out a simple “Don’t worry.” It is not clear whether it is Jaehyun he directs his words at, or maybe himself. His mind just ran a marathon again and he finds it harder to breathe properly from minute to minute. His bones start feeling crunchy and his back tenses, making everything hurt despite sitting somewhat comfortably. He thanks whatever deity out there it is weekend, because going to any lecture tomorrow seems impossible, much less getting up from bed. And he can’t miss any more, not when it happens ludicrously often, putting his attendance at stake.
“Well, whatever,” Jaehyun cuts, huffish. “So, are you interested?” he asks.
“Continue,” Sicheng tries to come off as nonchalant, lacing his fingers in front of him and propping his chin on them. Unfortunately, cotton sleeved against the skiddy surface, his elbows slip and he collapses in a heap with a loud thwap, the sound of his biceps hitting the desk making him snort cynically. Of fucking course. Clumsy loser .
Whatever Jaehyun thinks about it, he chooses not to comment and without any word he immerses in between the bookshelves, leaving Sicheng alone to process everything that went on for the last few minutes. How he managed to embarrass himself and how he would do it even further if the other didn’t leave. Every annoying little voice in his head tells him Jaehyun left because he was done with Sicheng’s antics. And as always, he did nothing but believe them. He knew himself and they did too, so he knew they were right.
Not to wallow in despair completely, he cheers himself up with the thought that it’s probably the last time he sees Jaehyun, considering their meeting was purely accidental, meaning there should be nothing to stress about. Or is it? What if the other boy remembers him as the one who fell? Miserably, on top of that. But why should that matter if, again, it’s the last time they see each other?
Well, because he is Dong Sicheng and he always cares , no matter what.
Before his eyes start to sting, however, Jaehyun comes back and he doesn’t come here empty handed. In fact, he is laden with big books, each one of them having written Biology in bold, golden letters on the spine. Confident in his ability to count quickly, with just one peek Sicheng codifies the amount of it. Eleven. Woah. Then the boy puts them all in front of him and one after another, opens them in the same chapter.
“How many books can you bring home?” Jaehyun asks and scratches a spot between his eyebrows again, pressing really hard, skin getting scratched off this time for sure. His eyes are hooded and Sicheng is having a hard time figuring out what he is looking at. That shouldn’t even matter, but for Sicheng, it’s another thing that does . He usually likes to know. Or rather prefers, because he doesn’t like everything he knows. But it’s just an endless chain of questions and answers as to whether he would or wouldn’t like to know. So he’s content with knowing everything .
“Seven,” Sicheng blurts out.
Jaehyun squints as he draws his hand back and tilts his head confused. He takes books in the amount Sicheng mentioned and stacks them together, then slides in other’s direction.
“Whatever works for you, m—” he stops in his tracks immediately, smiling gently. “... Sicheng. But not only I am worried for your back, I also don’t think you would have time to check all seven.”
Oh.
If Jaehyun hadn’t thought that before, now without a doubt he has Sicheng pinned down as an idiot. Once again, Sicheng proved he is still naive and childish. Very much so.
“I meant it more like if you’re only able to take one or you’re okay with taking more. Three at most, though,” he explains. “And add a book of exercises, so you can maintain what you just learnt. That’s what definitely works for me and there is a chance it won’t work for you, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, right? This topic is a motherfucker, but you’ll beat its ass with proper artillery, trust me,” Jaehyun babbles with no single breath in between, excited to be one to help. He is only a human, however, so he has to make a stop to gasp for air and exhale slowly, steading his breathing gradually. “YouTube is helpful too, so if you give me your number, I ca—”
Whatever he says after gets muffled in Sicheng’s head. Something in his stomach starts doing somersaults and his gut twists uncomfortably.
If you give me your number .
He’s not in middle school anymore, so why does it bother him so much? Why does the prospect of giving him, giving anyone, his phone number still make Sicheng want to vomit? He had all those years to understand his responsibilities and yet it’s still as if he’s twelve all over again, grasping his first ever cell phone tight, looking at the caller’s id through tears.
“You’re not getting my number,” he replies shakily, hiding his fear behind a lower tone. “Just write down the names of channels, if it’s not a problem.” He fishes for a loose sheet in his backpack and passes it to him. “Please.”
“At least I tried,” Jaehyun sighs dramatically and, no Sicheng isn’t imagining things, he winks. Fucking hell... He takes the piece of paper and grabs a pencil he found under his hand. Sicheng’s pencil. Something ugly swirls in his chest, a sudden pang of an emotion he can’t quite fathom. He impatiently waits for Jaehyun to be done, putting a hand between crossed legs and squeezing it just so he has something to focus on. When the other boy puts down the pencil, Sicheng snatches it and squeezes it tight, his grip not loosening for even a while.
“Thanks,” he mutters and is in the middle of bringing himself up for something more, a proper display of gratitude, when he gets interrupted by buzzing of the other’s phone.
“A moment,” Jaehyun asks and recedes into the depths of the library to pick up.
Whatever he hears on the other side of the line, it is urgent enough for him to leave right away, before he even gets to end the call. He waves Sicheng goodbye and just as one mystery brought him there, he leaves with a hint for another.
Although Jaehyun left him with a lot, without him Sicheng can’t make anything coherent out of it. Everything is the same except for the fact he can reel the whole textbook off now and has written down every timestamp of the creator of educational video blinking, along with periods in between and the average he calculated from it.
That, however, his roommate who was observing him the whole time from his corner of the room, didn’t know.
“Oh my god,” Kunhang groans, finally getting Sicheng’s attention. Intense staring didn’t work as the other boy chose to simply ignore it. “I’ve never seen you study this hard.”
I haven’t been studying for the past two hours , Sicheng wants to say. He opts for saying something else, though. “I’d like to believe I’m always studying hard.” True comedian. More of a fraud though.
Kunhang snorts and takes a sip of an energy drink. “Well, yeah,” he admits and licks his upper lip quickly, reminding Sicheng, who observes him comfortably laid on a pile of pillows, of a lizard. He knows better than to be fooled by this, as his friend is a real snake , actually. But he loves him anyway, since he shares his snacks with him and lets Sicheng watch anime on his dope gaming computer. “But I hardly ever see you sitting surrounded by books, much less Biology books.”
“I have midterms in two weeks.” Sicheng’s tone is strained, exhausted. He clutches his jaw and his lips stretch into an anguished, angular smile. Every time he speaks about exams nearing, the stress multiplies. Again and again. By now, higher powers have entered into the equation. A polynomial that is a pain in the ass to solve.
“You never study for those,” Kunhang retorts. It is not a frequent occurrence for his friend and roommate to be right, but this time he is, Sicheng doesn’t. “The only ersatz of you studying is you with your physics workbooks, solving problems in speed of the light, or when you’re sticking those flashy cards with formulas everywhere.” He doesn’t stop at that and goes on, immersed in the case of Sicheng’s study routine. “I started getting nightmares of them appearing at every turn, even in a damn refrigerator!” Great, he got off the track. “Oh wait, I forgot it already happened!” he snickers.
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?” Sicheng yelps confused and gets up from his comfortable pillow nest. At that, Kunhang just smiles softly.
He got him.
“I was joking.”
A pillow gets thrown across the room.
“Fuck you!”
They’re in the middle of a pillow fight when a realization hits Sicheng — he hasn’t tried sticky notes yet . This realization costs him a pillow thrown right at his face and a head bumping into a wall not so lightly. In fact, it hurts like a motherfucker, but when the sickening feeling and pain evaporate, he jumps up and startles Kunhang, who was until now looking at him with worry and went on with apologizing frantically, slight panic evident in his tone. “You’re a genius, Wong Kunhang,” Sicheng whoops, patting his roommate’s head. He picks up a stack of sticky paper and starts writing in haste every single definition from his memory and then sticking it on the very same wall that had his head spinning like a carousel a minute ago. Then, he reorganizes them after spotting some connections.
“I am and I’m flattered you say so, but I know you’re not being sinc—” Kunhang pauses abruptly after he raises his head and becomes aware of Sicheng’s doings. He groans as he throws his head back. “Oh hell no, not again!”
The only reply he gets is a definition of tissue tension stuck to his forehead.
As much as Kunhang’s idea was a huge breakthrough in the investigation (or, to make it sound less snazzy and more authentic, a search for an optimal method for his roommate to study for his midterms), it turns out they need more than a genius for Sicheng to understand biology. Sticky notes were long forgotten by both of them as they kept themselves busy with other tasks. For Sicheng, it was doing his cousin’s homework and recording voice notes with explanations while Kunhang worked on his code and bothered Sicheng. Eventually, after a biology-less weekend they just spent, Sicheng let Kunhang convince him to take flashy cards down. Their green, dinosaur shaped trash can that stood in the corner of the room was soon filled with little yellow paper balls.
This defeat, however, didn’t mark an end of Sicheng’s journey. The game was still on and sheer desperation was his fuel.
“This is the first time ever you’re asking me for a favor,” Ten mumbles into a beaker, yes, a beaker, and puts it down. What looks like tea, and Sicheng hopes it is tea, swirls inside of it for a while. “How serious is that?”
Numbness falls all over Sicheng as he recognizes this tone. He knows his best friend has no ulterior motive to ask this question other than worry, but he also knows what that question means. He went out of his way, stepped out of his comfort zone and he’s so transparent with it that everyone can see that and read him like an open book. Slight change in his attitude not overlooked and indirectly pointed out, the remark disguised as a question.
Being perceived is scary.
His spiralling thoughts get interrupted by a subtle tap on his shoulder and prying eyes scanning his face. Ten leans in and furrows his brows.
“What’s going on, Sicheng?” he asks and brushes his friend’s navy blue hair out of his forehead, ending the gesture with a light boop poked at his nose. And because it’s Ten, Sicheng lets him. Without cringing back like it burns, without whimpering or growling, just with his natural nose’s scrunch that Chemistry major always copies jokingly before sticking out his tongue and winking at him.
Words don’t come out as easily as Sicheng would want them. He squeezes his cheeks between his palms, clenches his eyes shut and lets out an incomprehensible sound. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he rubs his face, upset.
It doesn’t weird Ten out. Instead, his frown deepens and he gets up. He circles the table they’ve been sitting at for a few minutes now and stops behind his best friend, engulfing him in a warm, safe backhug. “Oh baby,” he coos and lets Sicheng relax in his embrace.
“I will fail those exams,” No shit, genius. “And I can’t bring myself to study for them, because it all gets exhausting two minutes in.”
“Maybe you’re just tired.”
Sicheng wastes no time to consider his friend’s suggestion, rejecting it almost immediately. “No way.” Instead of a stern interjection, a weakened squeal leaves his mouth. “If I was tired, I wouldn’t be literally bursting with energy. Yet, my fingers keep drumming on the table and I can’t even get to focus without bouncing my leg!” And my mind is running everywhere, he wants to add.
“That’s—”
“Anxiety, I know. But it doesn’t matter, Ten,” Sicheng retorts. As much as he would be glad to have his other issues resolved, he came here with a goal in mind, that goal being to ask Ten if he could explain and help getting what Sicheng already learnt right. “Can you?” he pleads.
“No can do,” the redhead answers apologetically. “I’m not really confident in my knowledge either.” Sicheng could swear he saw Ten contemplating something for a while before he decided to speak again.”Did you know Jung has a son?”
The younger boy frowns and looks at his best friend with a puzzled expression. “Our professor?”
“One and only,” Ten chimes.
“I didn’t.”
“I actually found a way to contact him,” he boasts. “He’s on an internship in some cool Biotech company, the one that gets gigs from the government.”
Sicheng’s eyes widen and he tilts his head quizzically. “For real?” Ten just grins like a Cheshire cat. “What did he tell you?”
“That’s a less pleasant topic you brought up, my dear friend,” Chem major’s face falls down and with visible reluctance, he drawls his next words, “He told me he’s not looking for a tutoring job. But I was willing to pay!” he whines.
“It would be weird if you didn’t.”
“I’m miserable and you’re just laughing at me,” he points an accusatory finger at him and prods his chest a few times. It gives Sicheng a weird sensation that spreads all over him, his sensors going insane with stingy touch.
He shrinks in his seat and mumbles a quiet apology.
“Just teasing.”
Gasp. Then a pout and hands crossed in front of him. A nose scrunch. A whole scale of reactions. Sicheng covers his face with his hands upon feeling the tautness of his muscles. “Do you have any backup plan?” he mumbles in his palms. A topic change to cover up for his expressional outburst.
“I’ll sit behind Kun.” Ten smirks and replies causally like he didn’t just witness his friend’s face muscles giving up on him and glitching.
Sicheng looks up and falters, “He’s going to kill you if he finds out.” Taking their history together into consideration, it is not an overstatement and Sicheng fears it might be the other way around instead. Actually, getting killed by Kun may be the best scenario in this situation and Sicheng can picture Ten begging the older to kill him instead of potential hell Kun would drag him through. That is, if Ten for once takes him seriously, which doesn’t seem to be the case here.
“Then I have to do everything not to get caught.” A grin is all it takes for Sicheng to confirm his concern.
“Or just apologize and ask him out.” Little by little, Sicheng regains his composure and is again able to hold a somehow steady conversation with his best friend. It’s just a shame his ability comes back when it’s nearing its end.
“Wouldn’t that be boring?” Another sip of tea and even wider grin. He’s not joking, but Sicheng oh so wishes he was. His questionable methods of flirting will bite him in the ass someday.
The younger one sighs.