Work Text:
INSTRUCTIONS
For best results, pre-lighten hair to a light blonde using MANIC PANIC® FLASH LIGHTNING® 30 or 40 Volume Bleach Kit. Some colors work well on natural blonde or chemically treated hair. Deeper shades may give stunning highlights to darker hair.
★ READY TO USE –
DO NOT USE WITH PEROXIDE ★
Jeno lines the bottle up with the rest of the toiletries, its print extremely off and stained with blue. Dye bleeds all the way down to the floor, but it’s nothing vinegar and baking soda can’t fix. Renjun made the effort of boxing some just before they started.
“Long day?” he asks them. The bathroom mirror is as gunky as the water frothing in the kit-inclusive mixing bowl. Rock lulling from his phone acts as tonight’s soundtrack, its vocals stripped and syrupy-slow.
The yawn in Jeno’s mouth is forced into a huff. “How’d you know?”
Rolling up his sleeves, Renjun hopscotches on the tile and sits with them. The small tub is nice addition to their slightly bigger room at the end of the hall, but now their legs are touching. Jeno looks down at Renjun's smooth, milky knees and immediately cringes at their own. The hairs circling them are so weird and wiry that they’re almost sure they dreamed them up. “You drooled on your arm. Snored for a bit, too.”
Jeno wipes their lips to confirm. “Oh.”
Their scalp is itchy. Ammonia is all they breathe, its stench still so acidic it basically fries all other smells. They go against their judgment to scratch and keep their hands taut to their sides, lest they be scolded by Renjun another time. “How long has it been again?”
“‘Round twenty-three minutes. Seven more and you’re ready to go.”
Jeno frowns. “I’m hungry, Renjunnie.”
“Well, if you’re good, there’s a McFlurry waiting for you in the fridge. I tipped the delivery guy extra to fend Hyuck and Jaem off. Our hero fought with everything he had.”
Potent will they-won’t they energy aside, Jeno’s part in The Great Jaemin-Donghyuck Divide is somewhat of a worthwhile novelty. Just the other week, they had raced to fold Renjun a fresh, steaming pile of laundry, painfully unaware that Jeno already sorted and stored every article of clothing at home after dance club practice. Renjun broke the news as gently as he could: it isn’t at the offense of the others, but he simply trusts Jeno with the things that take more care. Like stirring malatang, or lifting heavy easels for their charcoal drawing class, or eventually, taxes.
Off the record, though, Jeno thinks Jaemin and Donghyuck can play errand boy all they want. Jeno can one-up them. They always have—so much so that they’ve been given sole property of Renjun’s heart. Sometimes, they’re sure that’s a dream, too. “Why? Because I got to you first?”
Renjun’s hand is comically small no matter how wide he splays it over Jeno’s chest, but its warmth sure is a blessing for the pale, sickly cold of their skin. “Don’t let them hear that.” He laughs, which makes Jeno laugh, too. “What? I mean it!”
“Hey. Play pen’s empty tonight,” Jeno says, pleased with how their voice bounces on the walls and into the rest of Renjun’s miraculously Jaemin-free dorm.“But I want to, you know. Eventually.”
They talk about it, kind of. Going public with their friends.
While there are no toes to step on (except Donghyuck’s, maybe), they never really found the right time to spread the word. Between homework and the general godlessness that is entering your twenties, there’s simply too much that goes on. Donghyuck gets busy babysitting his siblings. Jaemin, choosing law school over a gap year. Mark, for some reason, is in the process of roping himself into someone else’s relationship unscathed, clearly and deliberately refusing to spare the juicy details even for the nosiest among them (again, it’s Donghyuck).
But what is there to spread, really? They’re the same Renjun and Jeno their friends have known since the beginning of university, just older and three months deep into honeymooned hand holding. And kissing. And perfect, mind-blowing sex that may or may not unfold in odd times or secret places or a godly combination of both. Though maybe those last few parts can be striked off the record, too.
In a lot of ways, their relationship is like this tub: warm. Peaceful. Far less glamorous than what warrants a lovestagram these days, yet brimmed with candles and rose petals when they want it to be. Neither of them don’t feel like getting up yet.
Not if it means facing deeper waters.
Don’t get Jeno wrong—things are fine. What they have is simple. Chill, as Mark would probably put it.
If chill means thinking of getting hitched three months in, then yeah. Sure. It’s chill.
They don’t like PDA, but love talking about flying to Jilin for the summer to meet Renjun’s grandma. They crash local gigs whose lineups they can’t remember but don’t forget how good the bass sounds booming in and out their chests, the heft of it keeping them grounded when they board the last train home. They’ll be each other’s emergency contacts at the hospital at one point. Partners for life, if fate will allow it.
It’s jarring. Part of Jeno has always known they’d fall for their best friend, but it’s never made the sharing-your-lives-with-other-people aspect that less frightening. The stakes feel that much higher, somehow.
But they remember one night in particular, just a few off from this one. The both of them were watching the Train to Busan sequel bored off their asses, crunching on corndogs and feeling each other’s stomachs through their pajamas. Luckily, the sight of Renjun laughing at plot holes and practical effects was enough to get Jeno hooked, so they pretty much lied there until birds chirped the morning hello.
On the edge of sleep, Renjun brushed their hair away from their eyes, his own a mess of waves. We should go to the movies next time. Or shop with Donghyuck and eomeoni, he said. Or just eomeoni, actually. I like it quiet.
Jeno snorted, digging their nose into Renjun’s shoulder blade. Why? You bored of this already?
Their tone was meant to be light, but something about it must have created cause for concern. After all, Renjun was often too stubborn to stop clawing at their walls, too impervious to the lies and self-jabs most people buy without question. It's enough to make a difference, despite everything. Don’t. Don’t you ever say that.
“We’ll figure it out.” Renjun from right now pulls Jeno out of nostalgia, swiping at the spot on their forehead with his thumb. “Better not to rip through the fabric of space-time before finals. You’ve seen how those two get. But Mark definitely knows, right?”
“Yeah. Think he saw the hickeys today," Jeno says, sheepish. "Choreo was all neck.”
“Oh. Things could be worse. Not my fault you’re so kissable. And kinda terrible at using concealer, if I may add.”
“Someone had to wipe you down today!” Shoulders bump against each other like the world’s gentlest car crash. “Hm? Don’t you think so, Mr. Lovable?”
Renjun grins from ear to ear. “Lovable, huh? That's new.”
Yes. Irrevocably so. The thought is like wet sand, slipping through Jeno’s fingers before fully taking shape. “Depends if you spoon me later.”
Renjun keeps beaming even as he scoffs, hooking Jeno between his legs as he stands and slouches over to tug at their roots. “Alright, Romeo. Let’s get you under the tap.”
The water runs at a sudden gush, dousing Jeno’s entire head at a Goldilocks temperature. Renjun passes a hand through it, flicking a few droplets at the shark-shaped soap dish. “Cold?”
“S’alright.” Jeno leans over all pleased and pup-like, a feat for someone with their frame. They shut their eyes, savoring the sensation before muscle strain eventually gets to them. “You guys should get one of those detachable bathtub hoses.”
“If I get a raise at the pet shop, maybe. Then again, the resident advisor get antsy with something as simple as glue tack on the wall. I’m not so sure it’ll slide.”
“You will because the fish love you and you clean up after Junhui more than you should. And Jungeun-noona is putty in your hands. You know that.”
Renjun laughs, shielding Jeno’s head from the base of the tap with his palm. “Careful.”
“Ah, fuck. Always forget it’s there.”
Thankfully, Jeno starts yawning again and Renjun’s playlist reaches its end, leaving room for sounds of the city to creep into the open window. Renjun teases his fingers through Jeno’s hair to get clumps of dye out, massaging their scalp a little. The residue runs beneath their feet and into the drain like a river of forbidden blue lemonade.
“Hair mask time.” The tap is notched shut and a dark, ratty towel blankets Jeno entirely, its fibers catching every fat pearl of wet. “Sit up for me, baby.”
Jeno complies regardless of the water soiling their ass. Renjun finishes patting, working his magic again with a half-and-half mix of conditioner and Shea butter that Mark’s split ends could also benefit from. Globs of it melt like pigment mulled into paint, spread with care on a blank, wide canvas.
After a good minute or two the touch flits down to the shape-up on Jeno’s undercut. Renjun hums and traces the lines only made clear with closer contact, rubbing circles there and purposely avoiding Jeno’s plugged lobes, ever patient, ever kind.
And it’s—it’s—
Nice would be a trivializing way to put it. A very monument to the literature degree Jeno bailed on a term into freshman year, too pathetic, so cosmically far removed from expressing just what they want to say. Usually they prefer not to put a name to things—after all, nothing good ever comes from risk. Admission is sitting in a burning house, clearing paths for your fears as soon as you light the match.
“How’s your back? Renjun asks, a stopblock to their train of thought. His lips trail Jeno’s spine, tickling the little dips between the bumps. “Sorry. We should’ve just done this under the sink.”
It takes the force of planets not to preen or do anything just as cringeworthy. Jeno pulls through with that of a small asteroid's. “Don’t worry about it,” they squeak. “You—you can keep going.”
“Actually, let me just…” Renjun pops out for a bit and strips off his oversized crewneck and blue and yellow checkered boxers, both of which have left Jeno’s possession for as long as they started sleeping together. It’s sad to see them go, but the bareness of skin does quell any moping that might have ensued.
“There. Now we both get clean.”
Amused, Jeno scooches to face him better and observes the triangles of light lining his body, cool, overcast shadow submerging it. Chips of acrylic paint clump under his nails. Twin bruises sit on his collar, red instead of purple since they had to attend different studio sessions this morning.
His hair only worsens things, they think. It’s grown inches and inches since he first buzzed it off in an attempt to rebrand. Paired with black nail polish and a striped sweater that swallowed him whole, the cut had been met with mixed reviews, ranging from Renjun’s very own Nope. Never doing this again. to Jaemin’s Oh, sexy! to Mark’s ever-present Long, short, you’re cute either way!
While Jeno definitely sides with the latter, they often do have a soft spot for when their boyfriend is at peak fluff. They had clung onto his mullet a few months back, the tails of it grazing their palms after exchanging confessions in an empty classroom.
“You’d look nice blond,” they think out loud, enjoying how Renjun’s bangs kind of swoop behind his ears. His roots stick out more healthily than what Jeno can ever hope for for their own, shiny and untouched by his signature brown Pudding Hair Color. “Is that crazy?”
“Not any more crazy than what you do to your head,” Renjun jokes. “Isn’t it, like. Trendy to do just the lower half now? I see all the kids in Myeongdong do it.”
Jeno entertains the thought of Renjun looking as punk as Jaemin again and ultimately decides that it’s a threat to their heart. In a good or bad way, they’re not sure yet. Maybe it’s both. “Think that’s all that is. A trend. You either go big or go home.”
“Mm, okay. But now that we’re talking color—you should do pink one day. To complete the rainbow! You’d look adorable.”
“If and only if you go blond. And you stay at least a hundred meters away from a pair of scissors at all times. For me. Please?”
“Calm down. Just buy the bleach. And our takeout.”
At some point Renjun improves the experience by filling the nearest cup, using it as a vase to rid Jeno of more sludge. The water soaks them like gravity were doing them a favor, languidly flowing with whatever energy that makes Jeno want to climb Everest and watch the sun rise above the summit.
There’s comfort in there, they’re sure of it. Not enough is around in Jeno’s life to be taken for granted—a bad childhood paired with boatloads of regret often do a spectacular job of keeping it at bay.
This Friday caps off a very good week. They love good weeks, because a particularly bad one ends with two more crying in bed and subsisting off stale crackers and oats. They drop Donghyuck’s and their sister’s calls, skip classes, and hope whatever void eating at their chest can be filled by one too many games of League. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Just when they think the worst of it is over, they see a ghost in the mirror.
A looming figure would stare back at them, eyes purpling, restless energy zig-zagging in the worst directions since they missed another weekly bike with Jaemin. Time has long gone since they last ate. In the face of death, they worry for their mother pacing miles and miles away in Incheon, phone shaking in one hand, Bongsik mewling in the other.
In this world, there is constant and there is change. Jeno doesn’t know if there’s enough of them that lives for either. And maybe it’s fucked up to find comfort in that, too. Loneliness, ironically enough, keeps them company. Makes them feel something, even if that something is a screen-induced migraine, stalling the mind and body from a bottomless, arguably more dismal pit of nothing.
But then there’s Renjun, just as wracked with fear as they are, staying up to comment on their drafts and stack their empty bowls and thwack them on the head if they think they’re favors to kill their own drive for. He helps them be better, and it goes past the sake of their relationship. Jeno needs it, too. So do their friends. Family. The cats they study so hard for and miss more than anything.
It’s a new kind of comfort. Maybe it's love.
Whatever it is, they're going to try their best to make sense of. To deserve.
But that just sounds wrong, doesn't it? Love simply lives. Maybe Jeno should let it.
Renjun kisses their cheek and scratches his nails just below their nape. More words fall like a shower of stars. Soothing. Tantalizing. The best Jeno’s felt in years. “You spacing out on me again?”
Tears streaking Jeno’s face isn’t anything new, but they never feel like their own, most days. No matter how much they try to close their eyes, the stuff just comes leaking out. Salt and sleep-crust. Wailing what-ifs. Their mother always did say they were too soft for their own good.
It’s only natural they start breaking out in sobs, too.
“Ah, Jeno-yah,” Renjun sets the cup down slowly. “You alright?”
Jeno plants their chin on Renjun’s shoulder and steadies their breathing, one big huff after the other. Life is hard. While they pick up what's left of the ashes, they remind themself they and Renjun are still here, whole and withstanding.
“No.” I have never loved someone this much and it scares me. “Yes.” With you, I’m willing to take the plunge, and that also fucking scares me. I love you. Is it too early to say that? Please don’t go. “I—Something in my eye.”
Renjun decides to play along. “Okay. Let me take a look.”
In that same breath, the act doesn't last, because when Renjun cups Jeno’s face he instantly softens at the small, sniffling dampness laid bare. “Oh, baby,” he coos, kissing and rubbing at what he can reach. His own eyes start to gloss over. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Shut up,” Jeno whines, half-laughing and half-still crying. They’re kind of glad their snot does the talking for them. “You definitely saw it coming.”
“Was it that good?”
“Yeah. That, and I just missed you extra today.”
“Aw. That’s pushing it, don’t you think?” Renjun looks at them like they’re the wayward sun to his unswerving orbit, lining the paths he’ll follow to no end. If fate turns out to be some man-made farce brainwashing the masses, Jeno would be more than happy to live life a fool. “Poor, sweet baby. Always missing me.”
Jeno's heart feels too big for their body. A blush shoots up to their ears. “Not like you have much competition. Jaemin always overdoes it with the conditioner.”
“Well, I’m flattered, anyway. You look great.”
“Do I really?”
Eventually, they get out of the tub, uncaring of the little puddles they leave. Jeno lets Renjun step on their feet even if it hurts, making sure to hook their arm around his waist so neither of them lose balance. It’s all that matters right now.
“What did I tell you? Absolutely golden.” Renjun ruffles their hair and gives them one last kiss on the cheek, the mirror gleaming with a newfound shine. “Or Celestine Blue, that is.”