Archive of Our Own ^beta

A hand pushes the bathroom door open. Then, the sound of steps echoes against the walls of the empty room. The stranger can feel the smell of the smoke of the cigarette in the air; it slaps him in the face in such an uncomfortable way that it makes it hard to ignore it.

Renjun watches his every movement with a surly expression and the lit cigarette resting between his fingers. His silver hair matches the color of the sweatshirt he’s wearing and the somewhat somber atmosphere surrounding him. He never attempts to be friendly; instead, he even seems annoyed now that his attempt at escaping from the real world has been interrupted. Renjun is sitting over the sink, and his backpack is on the floor, making it evident that he’s currently skipping class. He keeps studying the intruder.

He’s a tall boy with a confused expression. He also looks a tiny bit alarmed, akin to a deer in headlights in the middle of the night. The boy keeps throwing glances at Renjun in a not-so-sneaky way, as if he were waiting for him to corner him and buy his silence in front of such an illicit act. His black hair falls over his forehead, there are half-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose, and when Renjun stares at him from head to toe, the first thing he notices is how tidy his uniform looks.

The left corner of Renjun’s lips curls up in an attempt at a half-smile. His eyes remain as dull as ever.

The boy ignores him. He’s stiff when he walks to the urinal; Renjun’s eyes follow him, making him nervous. The silence is loud and dense, and Renjun looks away to give his cigarette a puff while the boy pees. 

He looks at him again when he approaches the sink to wash his hands. The boy keeps side-eyeing him, and the sound of the water running is the only thing filling their uncomfortable exchange. An idea pops into Renjun’s head. He exhales the smoke of his cigarette on the other boy’s face—he wants to tease him and see how he reacts. The boy only closes his eyes and coughs, and Renjun can’t help but snicker, clearly entertained.

“Why did you do that?” He finally speaks. His voice isn’t harsh, and he doesn’t even sound annoyed. 

Any other guy would have screamed at him or, at least, gotten mad. He could have grabbed Renjun by the collar of his sweatshirt and tried to punch his expression out of his face. None of that happens, though. This guy looks confused, like a lost lamb—submissive. 

It’s adorable.

Renjun shrugs, and the boy gives him a final glance before heading toward the door. But, in an impulsive act, Renjun finds himself raising his tone to stop him from leaving.

“Wait, no! Where are you going? Stay a bit.”

The boy slowly turns around with his eyes wide open, in the same way someone does after hearing that there’s a ghost behind them.

“But I have to go back to class,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, and I didn’t ask,” says Renjun. “I asked you to stay. Make me some company.”

He smiles in an attempt to be friendly. His smile is wide—practiced too—but it never reaches his eyes. It’s fake and empty in a sort of manipulative way, characteristic of someone who mostly smiles for convenience. 

The other boy hesitates for a second, pondering if he should obey or not. Surprisingly, he nods his head, unsure of his own decision, and starts walking in Renjun’s direction.

“Well?” Utters Renjun expectantly, but the other one doesn’t understand his implications. Bemusement washes over his face. “Your name,” and he speaks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Jeno.” There's a pause. “Lee Jeno.”

The boy, Jeno , is quick to follow his orders. He appears to avoid any unfavorable reaction from Renjun. It’s entertaining and satisfying. Renjun likes it.

“Which grade?”

“Why do you ask?”

Renjun simply looks at him, and that’s enough to have him answer in a heartbeat. 

“11th grade.” 

Jeno answers rather quickly, but it’s evident that he’s still all stiff and nervous, afraid that if he takes a second longer to answer, he could disappoint Renjun, who observes his reactions carefully and curiously. They push him to tease the boy a little bit more in hopes of earning more of those entertaining reactions. 

They must be the same age, Renjun realizes. They are not in the same class, though, so Jeno must be part of the other group. He comes to this conclusion because he doesn’t remember seeing someone like Jeno before—it’s not like he pays any attention to his classmates, especially considering how little they interact because Renjun is always ditching class, but still. Renjun isn’t much of an observant person, but he would definitely remember someone as interesting as Jeno.

Renjun forces him to stay with him—well, Jeno never showed any resistance. Their conversation resembles a questionnaire with the way Renjun keeps asking questions, and if Jeno said that he asked for permission to go to the bathroom because he had to introduce his profile to Renjun instead of peeing, that wouldn’t be much of a lie. Sometimes Renjun speaks with that voice that implies that everything is stupidly obvious, just to tease him, and Jeno gets nervous—his mouth opens and closes before saying anything, and he looks up at Renjun as if he were making sure that he’s pleasing him with his company.

Renjun smiles to himself. He isn’t sure if Jeno can see it—he doesn’t think Jeno is capable of noticing. He’s too nervous to pay attention to the little details of Renjun’s reactions.

It’s an interesting experience. It gives Renjun a new sensation that may be a bit addicting. For that reason, he mentions that he would love to spend time with Jeno again before bidding him goodbye. He puts on a sweet tone when he utters the words, but it seems like that only makes Jeno more nervous. When the boy nods his head, his expression is unreadable.

What a lovely guy.

🌩️. . .

From that moment onward, Renjun becomes a bit obsessed. He doesn’t know why, but teasing Jeno is fun. He loves the feeling that comes every time Jeno seems slightly intimidated in front of him; it makes him feel big and it feeds his ego—that’s exactly what a guy like Renjun needs.

Also, Jeno is always so attentive to everything Renjun says, careful not to commit a mistake or do something wrong, and Renjun loves his eagerness. He’s adorable, akin to a puppy that’s just begun his training. Sometimes, when he stops speaking, Jeno throws him a glance to check if Renjun is pleased with his answer. Skittish. Expectant. Whenever he does, Jeno always finds Renjun’s dull eyes staring back at him. Then he’s most likely to look away, unable to hold eye contact with Renjun’s unperturbed expression.

Sometimes Renjun raises an eyebrow, silently asking him what the hell goes on with him. Jeno pretends that he hasn’t become inhibited.

Jeno might be like a new dog—Renjun likes calling him puppy (or pup, depending on his mood) because Jeno is always eagerly following his every word. Every time Jeno hears the nickname, he frowns, but he rarely complains out loud. Nevertheless, sometimes this puppy-like attitude pisses Renjun off. It bothers him so much that he can’t help but roll his eyes once Jeno speaks. He doesn’t understand how Jeno can be so naive and honest. Renjun knows that Jeno doesn’t hide anything; there’s no way he could when every reaction that takes over his face looks so real and like he’s letting the whole world see what’s inside him in such a careless way. Jeno looks so dumb, always trying to do things right as if he were terrified of hearing the word ‘no’ and being talked to in a harsh tone. Would Jeno cry and apologize if Renjun suddenly talked to him in a harsher tone? How stupid.

So Renjun decides to play with him and treat him like a new toy. Jeno is his own puppy, wagging his tail beside him. The nickname should not be adorable—instead, it’s mocking, and Jeno never notices. Renjun keeps looking for him so they can skip class together. He talks to Jeno in the hallways and makes him nervous while spitting orders that go unnoticed in between sweet words. Renjun toys with him to push him closer and closer to the edge, waiting for Jeno to explode and show him that he’s more than a good guy who never says no. Renjun is waiting for Jeno to get mad at him, yet the moment never comes, and Renjun is losing his patience.

It’s weird and confusing. Renjun despises Jeno, but he’s so obsessed with him. 

He must give off the vibe of a selfish, manipulative person who doesn’t care that Jeno is his own person. Still, Renjun ignores the judging voice in his head.

🌩️. . .

After an entire day spent filling his head with Jeno-related thoughts, Renjun makes his way home. Perhaps he likes being with Jeno because the boy always gives him his full attention, and he always looks interested whenever Renjun speaks. It’s stimulating, and it makes his days more dynamic—although he would hate to admit it out loud because it sounds like Jeno is coloring his dull days, and that’s corny. Ew.

Sometimes he arrives home late. It’s almost ten p.m., and if someone asked him about his whereabouts and the reason he comes home at night, Renjun wouldn’t know how to answer. He doesn’t know the reason. The only thing he knows is how to waste his time—he’s good at that. Nevertheless, no one ever asks him, which is actually useful because it means that Renjun wouldn’t be pushed to try and find a reasonable excuse.

He opens the door and heads to his bedroom with his backpack hanging loosely from his shoulder, his silver hair falling over his forehead, and his eyes glued to his sneakers. No one greets him or asks about his day. He’s so insignificant that his parents don’t even scold him for coming home late. His presence wouldn’t make a difference. When he reaches his bedroom, he doesn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he simply slumps over the mattress and stays there for a few seconds before finally taking his uniform off. Well, he doesn’t wear the full uniform—white sneakers and a gray hoodie are more comfortable—but still. Everything is silent, cold, and lonely.

It’s at moments like this that Renjun feels the difference between staying home and not. Even when he spends most of the time at school in the third-floor bathroom, laughing at Jeno with a cigarette in between his fingers, something is happening—someone is looking at him. The stare of those puppy eyes reminds Renjun that he’s someone.

That could be the reason behind Renjun’s insistence on spending time with Jeno. He seeks external validation. In the end, Renjun and Jeno are not that different. They are the same, feeding off each other’s validation.

Renjun’s parents are always busy. They met in China; however, after their only son turned seven years old, they decided to move to Korea, chasing better job opportunities. Although the change rapidly enriched their professional lives, none of them noticed the impact it had on their son.

Renjun was a little kid who struggled with the language and the new environment, something that his classmates noticed rather quickly, yet his parents were so busy working that they never checked on how he was doing. They might be somewhat privileged in the economic sense, but Renjun has always been the same lonely kid, so it feels like he doesn’t have much in reality. It doesn’t matter if his dad is a successful lawyer and her mom is a businesswoman because they never taught Renjun that he should love and admire them. The emotional distance between them pushes Renjun to look at them from below, feeling that getting any closer to them is an impossible challenge—the wall between them feels bigger than the one in his homeland.

And now, Renjun has grown to become a resentful teen. The gloomy cloud around him engulfs him. 

When Renjun stands in front of his parents, he feels insignificant. Small—his legs tremble and he can’t stand on his own; the feeling of inferiority overpowers him. He feels worthless, and it will be that way no matter what he does. His parents would never look in his direction; that’s why his behavior doesn’t matter. If he were a perfect child, things wouldn’t be different.

At this point, he’s used to this dynamic. He doesn’t cry on his own because he feels lonely, like he used to do when he was ten. He learned that there are things that he can’t change—childhood scars stay forever. There’s nothing he can do. Renjun and his parents barely talk to each other, and they never show any interest in whatever he does. Renjun’s only option is to stand on his own. Since no one cares for him, the easiest thing to do is to ignore and repress any thoughts or feelings. He won’t waste time trying to understand his own emotions if no one is there to guide and support him. 

There’s anger and resentment pooling inside him, waiting for the moment to burst and make a mess. 

So the first time it happens and Jeno actually reaches his limit, Renjun feels himself lose control. Seeing the calm and adorable kid lose his composure is not as fun or refreshing as he thought it would be. It’s maddening. It makes Renjun angry, and he doesn’t understand why Jeno is not following his orders (the order being to get drunk at school in the morning; every day Renjun wanted to test how far Jeno could go). 

What happened to being a puppy who follows him everywhere? Why can’t Jeno do that? Why is Jeno disobeying? It doesn’t make sense. Renjun doesn’t understand what’s happening, and it frustrates him. Jeno is like water slipping from his fingers, and Renjun doesn’t know how to contain all the droplets that keep dripping from his hands. Renjun can’t control Jeno. If Jeno contradicts him, Renjun could lose him, his attention, and his validation, and that’s terrifying.

Jeno could realize that Renjun is worthless, and his superiority act would crumble. Jeno may not want to spend time with him ever again, realizing that Renjun is nothing but pathetic.

Renjun hates feeling so insecure. In an attempt to mask his own feelings, he pretends that panic isn’t making its way up his esophagus, pushing him to desperation. Instead, he stares back at Jeno with a practiced expression of self-control, silently telling him that he’s wrong. If there is something Renjun excels at, it’s repressing his own feelings and hiding them behind a stoic expression—Jeno hasn’t sensed an ounce of desperation coming from him. His expression could be easily mistaken for the one he always wears on his face. However, once Jeno leaves the room with an unusual scowl painting his face and his steps echo across the hallway, Renjun finally turns around to face his reflection in the mirror. The grip on the can of beer in his hand tightens.

And he feels so much anger once he makes eye contact with his mirrored version. He hates himself so much that Renjun could punch the crystal in order to avoid seeing his own reflection there and pretend that he has ceased to exist with it. Perhaps Renjun’s emotions are not a result of Jeno’s display of rebellion; instead, they come from the hatred he holds against his own way of acting. Every repressed emotion threatens to burst—he’s akin to a jar that can’t contain anything inside anymore. Renjun becomes unstable. His breathing becomes ragged, so he bites his lips with great force out of pure nervousness. He hates this; he hates it so much that he wants to tear his own skin apart with his own nails.

This feeling is so uncomfortable. Renjun feels so fucking stupid for acting in such an irrational way. His own selfish desires clouded his senses, so he never noticed how far he was going. He can’t control Jeno. Jeno is not his, and he owes Renjun nothing. The worst part is that Renjun has no reason to be doing this, and now he has probably ruined his relationship with Jeno. And he’s going to lose him, that’s for sure. Another person will leave him, but he can’t say that it isn’t his fault. Renjun ruined this himself. He doesn't know how to take care of his relationships—there’s a high chance that Jeno had been so pliant all this time because he wanted them to become friends, and instead Renjun decided to act like an asshole.

He can’t understand himself. He can’t understand why he’s holding onto the idea of keeping Jeno by his side or why he feels so damn guilty right now.

Renjun doesn’t want to admit that he might appreciate Jeno—just a little bit. They could have been great friends. And now he’s scared that Jeno might not want to speak to him ever again. Oh no, how will he fix this? Renjun messed up real big this time. He can’t simply apologize to Jeno—that’s uncharacteristic, and he wants to preserve the idea Jeno has of him. Renjun sort of likes his superiority act and the idea of Jeno looking up at him; nevertheless, he’d hate it if Jeno thought that Renjun is nothing but an arrogant, manipulative guy who doesn’t care about him.

🌩️. . .

To his own surprise, it’s Jeno who approaches him after a few days—like a habit that is too hard to break. Jeno makes an attempt at greeting him with a tremulous smile, and Renjun only manages to nod at him with a slight smile on his face, hiding his sigh of relief.

After the incident, Jeno seems to get nervous whenever he’s around Renjun, but that doesn’t stop him from following Renjun around whenever he’s asked to do so. This time, Renjun makes his best effort to be more gentle and kind. He’s trying to act like a friend because, perhaps, that’s what he actually wants to achieve, even if he refuses to give a name to his change of attitude. Or, even if he tells himself that he hates the idea of Jeno realizing that he’s much more than a guy with a bossy attitude who has a gentle side underneath it all.

But Renjun makes an attempt, yes. He’s trying his best. He tries to softly smile at him and change the tone of his voice when he speaks; he goes as far as asking Jeno for his opinion before proposing any idea. Renjun finally realized how embarrassing and insufferable he had been while building that asymmetric relationship between them. He’s turning 17 really soon; friendships shouldn’t be like that.

Nevertheless, after their first escapade together, Renjun realizes that Jeno is also going through a lot of changes. His pupils are soaked in infinite curiosity, an unquenchable thirst for discovering more about the world surrounding him—Renjun is the only one who can offer him that. Jeno has given him another opportunity, and he seems set on not wasting it. The change is just the slightest bit frightening, if he were to be honest; Renjun is a tad bemused, but he tries to keep control of the situation.

If Jeno thought that he could impress and please Renjun with this attitude, he hates to admit that the boy didn’t achieve the desired effect. Now that the two of them are undergoing different changes in their attitudes, they have lost their already poor synchrony.

Renjun wasn't prepared for Jeno's behavior today. He seems more loose than usual, saying yes to everything with an oddly enthusiastic expression on his face. The problem is that Jeno apparently has no self-control, and Renjun makes terrible decisions. It's only past lunchtime, and after going to the arcade and visiting a street food shop, Jeno has gotten drunk in a park. Renjun thought Jeno didn't even like beer; that's what caused their last argument, yet here they are. 

Well, if Renjun wants them to be friends, he has to take care of him. It perfectly aligns with his new attempt at acting like a friend—this is the perfect opportunity, isn't it? He wasn't mentally prepared to do it this soon or under these circumstances, but he must take responsibility. After all, he was the one who got Jeno drunk, and Renjun is not a bad guy. He might be irresponsible, immature, manipulative, and a bit selfish, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy. He’s going to help Jeno. 

But the thing is that Renjun isn’t sure of what he’s doing, so he gets nervous. He may say that Jeno is dumb and naive and that it pisses him off, but in reality, Renjun is worried about him, and he really wants to take care of Jeno right now. He takes the drunk boy home, and he even helps him get to his bed, as if Jeno were incapable of doing anything by himself. A lie. Renjun knows that he’s doing more than needed and that there was no need for him to help him with his uniform. Jeno wasn’t that drunk, but Renjun still felt the need to unbutton his shirt for him.

When he abandons the apartment, he feels weird. Something is happening, but Renjun can’t pinpoint what it is. He doesn’t want to. He can’t comprehend this new feeling, so he ignores it. He ignores it in the same way he ignores the trembling in his own hands and Jeno’s pitiful voice asking and begging him to keep him company. Renjun sighs and shakes his head. He shouldn’t be thinking of that—Jeno is safely home; there is no need to keep him on his mind.

But he’s unsuccessful—he can’t stop thinking about him. His friends don’t help him keep Jeno out of his mind either.

Holding his backpack that hangs from his right shoulder, Renjun makes his way to meet his friends. When he sees them sitting under a tree in the same park he took Jeno earlier in the day, he hurries to flop on the spot between Yangyang and Kunhang, one holding a bottle of beer while the other holds a lit cigarette between his fingers. Dejun is seated just in front of him, completing the circle.

“So that’s the one and only Lee Jeno,” murmurs Kunhang, moving his head up and down. “What a cute puppy.”

Yangyang takes a puff from his cigarette.

“Yeah, from what Kunhang told us, he sounds like an adorable guy. You didn’t mention that.”

“Don’t call him puppy,” demands Renjun, interrupting Yangyang’s excitement with his dull tone of voice. He’s tired, and he doesn’t want to talk about this. “You don’t need to talk about him.”

But his friends didn't get the message, and if they did, they clearly decided to ignore it. Teasing Renjun is definitely more entertaining. He frowns, tightens his lip, and stares back at them; they never stop. Instead, Yangyang makes a surprised expression that is too fake for Renjun’s liking, who is having a hard time recognizing the sarcasm in his voice.

“Wow, Renjun! I didn’t know you could be possessive. Are you the owner of this puppy?”

“Do you realize that Jeno is a person?”

“That doesn’t change anything,” interrupts Dejun, the voice of reason. “You aren’t usually kind, yet Kunhangs says that you were attentive and took care of him.” There’s a smirk dancing on his face, and Renjun doesn’t know how to argue against that. Any excuse he could offer wouldn’t make sense, but he’s not ready to admit that Dejun is right and that he treats Jeno differently.

“Yeah, it sounds like you like him.”

Yangyang stretches over to grab the bottle of beer. Renjun simply stares in silence with a serious expression on his face before taking the bottle from the boy’s hands. Then he takes a big gulp of the bitter liquid.

“Impossible,” he murmurs.

He doesn’t like being the butt of their jokes, but it seems like they won’t be stopping anytime soon. His friends are clearly enjoying this—of course they are; they must take advantage of the unusual situation. Renjun doesn’t crush on guys easily; they can’t miss the opportunity.

“What do you mean ‘impossible’?” Kunhang looks at him like he’s speaking nonsense. Renjun hates it. “You’re literally obsessed with him. He’s the only thing you talk about, and I saw the way you treat him. And he’s a cute guy who looks at you like you’re everything to him. There’s nothing wrong with liking Jeno, you know?”

Renjun doesn’t know how to answer, so he says nothing. They weren’t supposed to meet so they could advise him on what to do with his crush—he doesn’t even have a crush! Renjun came here to waste his time while drinking booze, free of any Jeno-related thoughts. He wasn’t supposed to meet his friend, and think, and use his head.

Renjun takes another sip directly from the bottle, but Kunhang is quick to take it from Renjun’s hands.

“It’s not that,” the boy finally says. “I feel guilty; that's why I’m acting like this.”

The air is suddenly dense, and Renjun can’t help but become pensive. Yes, Jeno might be dumb, and while that makes him act mean sometimes, it also awakens a strange urge to take care of him and keep him by his side. In that way, Renjun makes sure that no one is taking advantage of him—ironic, yes, but he promises not to repeat the same mistakes in the future. 

But he doesn’t want to think about this right now. He’s not ready to face whatever goes on in his head at the moment. His head is akin to a myriad of tangled wires, forming a bigger mess the more Renjun ignores them. He can’t admit that he’s actually afraid of discovering things about himself because he might not know how to deal with them.

Luckily, Yangyang notices this weird, gloomy cloud that has been installed over his head, so he takes matters into his own hands. Yangyang opens his mouth, and everyone bursts into laughter except for Renjun, who is too busy getting as red as a tomato. At the end of the day, he’s still a 17-year-old teen.

“Well, good for you if it’s not a crush, then. It would have been sad if Jeno ever discovered that despite everything, you’re a pathetic loser who has never kissed anyone.”

It doesn’t make sense. Why would Jeno care about that? It’s not like his lack of a first kiss is relevant if they’re not going to be kissing, right? Oh no, now Renjun is thinking about it. They don’t even have a reason to be doing that, so Renjun should stop picturing how it would be right now.

But he’s embarrassed. Renjun has never felt any romantic interest in another person, so he has never kissed anyone. Usually, he would acknowledge the irrelevance of not having kissed anyone yet; however, while his friends laugh, Renjun feels himself getting tinier and tinier. And he panics. His eyes are as wide as plates; in his drunk-dazed mind, Yangyang has just pointed out the biggest problem for a teen like him. And he’s standing on his spot without even noticing while his friends’ laughter dies down. 

“What am I going to do?” He suddenly blurts out. “I need to have experience if I want to kiss him.”

The three other boys share puzzled looks among themselves. They can’t seem to decide whether the situation is funny or too weird for their liking.

Dejun is the first to react.

“Wait, so you actually want to kiss him?”

Renjun doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Instead, he grabs the bottle and takes a big gulp of beer again. He doesn’t want to be sober for this—actually, Renjun doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Hopefully, he gets too drunk to remember it. 

“I mean,” he finally says, “I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic.”

Dejun looks even more confused now. 

“Didn’t you say that you didn’t like him?”

“I don’t!” here’s a pause. “I don’t know.”

But Renjun seems to get more and more nervous with every passing second, and he doesn’t want his sober friend to judge him right now. Oh, no. He might actually like Jeno. What the fuck? Maybe that’s why he’s so obsessed with him? That would make sense. But he’s already made a fool of himself, and he’s being absolutely ridiculous just because he’s in denial and doesn’t have the ability to identify and manage his own feelings. Such a simple question is making Renjun lose the battle against himself and bare his feelings like that in front of everyone. And now his friends have realized that he likes Jeno even before he does it, just because he’s the tiniest bit tipsy.

(Yes. This is how Huang Renjun acts when he’s not putting on his whole stoic persona. He panics over the tiniest, most stupid things if he feels like they’re beyond his control. He contradicts himself quite often, and he becomes desperate once he notices that he can’t handle a situation he doesn’t like.)

And then comes Yangyang, god of chaos, to save him from his own humiliation. Or not, this might be even more humiliating. Yangyang shuts him up with a kiss—if Renjun is so worried about being a pathetic loser, his friend can offer him a hand. 

🌩️. . .

That mental breakdown was kind of pointless. Jeno is ignoring Renjun, and he has no clue why. Jeno keeps running away, seemingly unaware of Renjun’s constant stare at his figure—he notices right away. Apparently, Jeno is so dumb that he can’t even succeed in avoiding Renjun. He suddenly becomes unresponsive; he stops approaching him, and he looks away every time he senses Renjun’s presence. And that hurts Renjun’s feelings; he is panicking on the inside. If Jeno wants to avoid him, that's fine with him. Renjun will pretend that he doesn’t care in the slightest; he won’t grant Jeno satisfaction.

The problem is that he does care, and a lot. This sudden change in their routine knocks the air out of his lungs and leaves him breathless. The only possible explanation for this behavior is the most terrible one. Everything indicates that Jeno has finally gotten tired of him—Jeno has finally realized that Renjun is nothing but a failure. No one in their right mind would choose to spend time with the boy with the bad attitude, whose life has no direction whatsoever. No one cares about stray kids like him, especially when his presence does not bring anything good. That’s how Jeno probably feels about Renjun.

Jeno has finally realized that Renjun is akin to a stone blocking the way. That’s why he must discard him—Renjun is worthless and useless. And Renjun understands, yeah. He totally gets it.

Until he doesn’t.

His insecurities tell him one thing: they whisper against his ear in hopes of bringing him down. His entire body trembles, and there’s a tickling sensation on his fingers, prompting him to tear the skin off his face. Nevertheless, Renjun is stubborn. His trauma awakens the rawest emotions in him, pushing him to get angry and make a mess. Because Renjun is full of rage, and every time he gets hurt and things don’t go as he wishes, he feels like everything is lost and he must destroy everything in his vicinity. Whenever Renjun catches Jeno avoiding eye contact, he tightens his fists until his knuckles turn white. He’s so, so mad.

Renjun hates feeling like he’s not enough or worthy. Deep down, it hurts, especially now that he’s realized that he might feel something for Jeno. Things shouldn’t be like this. He can’t keep anyone by his side; perhaps holding onto Jeno was a mistake. Renjun is better off alone, and he doesn’t know why he tried doing something different this time. Yeah, maybe spending time and toying with Jeno was fun, but in the end, Renjun knows that he doesn’t have anyone but himself. He shouldn’t have deluded himself into thinking differently.

It’s depressing because Renjun feels betrayed. Jeno was always looking for his approval, to the point that even his friends noticed—why is he acting this way? Renjun wants to scream and suffocate himself with a pillow. Renjun wants to be enough for him; he doesn’t want Jeno to leave him behind. It hurts so much. Renjun wants to spend more time with him; he was willing to work on his own flaws to become a better friend for him and build that kind of relationship together. Nevertheless, Renjun can’t say that he doesn’t understand Jeno’s reasoning. Jeno probably doesn’t even like him. And Renjun would hate to hear that Jeno only hangs out with him because he feels intimidated.

Although it has been established that Renjun’s state is absolutely depressing, he can’t bring himself to feel sad. The only thing inside him is anger, filling every ounce of his body. A part of him wants to pretend that he doesn’t understand what’s wrong with himself and that Jeno’s sudden avoidance has no basis whatsoever. But it only pushes Renjun to hate himself even more; he feels silly for reacting and feeling like this—how dumb. Renjun hates himself more for not being able to keep Jeno by his side. Renjun wants to blame him because it’s easier than studying his own flaws. 

He’s unable to analyze himself and identify his own emotions, so he avoids doing it. 

But Renjun is stubborn, and he has a tendency to contradict himself, so every time he convinces himself that something isn't true, he fails miserably and ends up doing the total opposite. That’s why it’s no surprise that his first instinct, as soon as he has the opportunity, is to corner Jeno into explaining what the hell he’s doing. 

And it lacks sense. Anyone would think that Renjun would know how to move on by now. But he doesn’t.

To his surprise, Jeno is sincere even when he looks frightened. And Renjun believes every word that leaves his lips. It’s hard not to, especially when Jeno is so honest and easy to read. Moreover, Renjun is making an effort to be better—he wants to be a better friend, and to do that, he must be kinder. Part of that is hearing what Jeno has to say and believing him. So Renjun forces himself to calm down and pretend that he’s fine with his explanation. Yes, everything is fine, or so he thinks.

Jeno has that apologetic look characteristic of a kid who confesses his own mischief. Renjun remains unable to believe that Jeno is in front of him, blaming himself for this situation and implying that there’s something wrong with him. Sure, Renjun wanted to blame him first, but that was because he was in denial. Deep down, Renjun knows that he was the one who ruined everything with his attitude, and there’s nothing wrong with Jeno, even if the other boy doesn’t agree. But now Jeno is here, pointing at his own flaws and implying that he’s the one in the wrong for not establishing boundaries. He says that he’s been upset because he doesn’t have self-control and doesn’t know how to say no, and Renjun wonders why Jeno is so hard on himself.

The situation is hilarious, objectively speaking. The two of them want to keep this friendship, but they are so self-conscious that they think it’s best if they run away from their problems instead of fixing them. Renjun understands Jeno perfectly; that’s why he wants to reassure him that things can be okay between them—Renjun wants them to be okay.

He doesn’t want to lose Jeno again. There’s still a tiny possibility that Jeno could someday see everything that’s wrong with Renjun. A similar situation could happen again, perhaps for a different reason. Renjun can see it. Clearing up any misunderstanding between them doesn’t make Renjun less of an insecure teenager. Jeno might have been right, too, and drifting apart may be a good choice for them. Renjun won’t admit it out loud, though; he doesn’t want Jeno to ponder that idea. Instead, Renjun persuades him to cross the line between them, the one that was forcing them to keep their distance from each other.

Somehow, Renjun decides that he will take advantage of the situation. Jeno might abandon him in the future, but Renjun got his first kiss for a reason. Suddenly, Renjun finds himself kissing Jeno against the third-floor bathroom tiles. If he opens an eye, he will see the way they’re kissing in the mirror. Renjun doesn’t know much about kisses, but he likes the way Jeno’s lips feel against his. He likes the way his hold on his waist feels and how Jeno pushes their bodies closer and closer until there isn’t any space between them.

It’s a fascinating sensation. Renjun could get addicted.

He can’t deny that he feels excited whenever he’s with Jeno. Renjun definitely has feelings for him.

Renjun may not deserve Jeno at all, so he will enjoy this tiny piece of him before it’s taken from his hands again. That’s why he keeps kissing him until his hair and his school uniform are a mess.

Things are fine this way, or at least that’s what Renjun tells himself. This should be right—Renjun should be calmer now.

🌩️. . .

Renjun believes his heart is calmer now; he does his best to convince himself. In reality, though, things are much different. That ceaseless search for reaffirmation doesn’t stop; Renjun wants to make sure that things between him and Jeno can work. The problem is that he’s so insecure, and he isn’t even sure of his own worth. What if Jeno doesn’t want to be his friend (or whatever it is that they have now), but he doesn’t know how to tell him? Renjun tries to stay calm; of course he does—he thought he had reached his closure once Jeno explained how he felt, yet his insecurities are still there, ticklishly whispering behind his nape.

And, well, Renjun ends up acting dumbly and doing embarrassing things that he definitely regrets now—like punching a dude in the face because he said that Jeno was stupid for hanging out with someone like Renjun; hearing that hurts. Renjun might have bad behavior, sort of , but he’s not a violent kid. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Renjun finds himself disgusting. His confusion and surprise are such that Renjun even forgets to settle his walls high, like he always does, to prevent anyone from seeing parts of himself that he hates. So he ends up showing his vulnerable side to Jeno. Because Jeno is warm and his sole presence brings peace to him, whenever he speaks, he makes Renjun feel like someone cares about every piece of him and that someone is finally seeing him.

Jeno probably doesn’t realize. He probably doesn’t even understand, but Renjun would never allow anyone to see that he’s just a scared kid. It makes him feel weak and exposed; he prefers people around him to think that he’s strong and nothing can shake him. Just for today, though, Renjun doesn’t care about it. He wants a certain someone’s company, and in order to get it, he must stop lying to himself.

Hiding his true feelings is the opposite of being honest.

At this point, denying how much he likes Jeno is impossible. Renjun has never felt this way before, so he has no clue how to navigate the situation. He gets excited over the mere idea of seeing him and receiving his validation. Furthermore, how can he like someone like Jeno? He’s bright and gentle, and sometimes it seems like there isn’t a bad bone inside him. Jeno is like the most adorable puppy ever, and the only thing Renjun wants to do is pat his head if that means that Jeno will shrug and smile with those tiny eyes like he does every time he laughs.

Renjun tries to hide how much he likes to see Jeno happy. It’s a nice feeling that makes him feel warm all over. Renjun isn’t sure what Jeno’s trick is, but the boy manages to evoke warmth and safety, and that’s something Renjun desperately needs. Every time he notices Jeno’s effect on him, something bubbles inside him. Perhaps Jeno will never discard him—Renjun should have never doubted him. Jeno follows him around like he cares and like he really wants to spend time with Renjun. After so many dull days, Renjun has realized that there is a place where someone waits for him with open arms, ready to soothe him; that’s Jeno, with his endless honesty.

But Renjun feels guilty. He’s playing this game without Jeno knowing about his feelings. Perhaps Jeno thinks that they’re just having fun together and that when Renjun pulls him by the necktie to join their lips together in a messy kiss, he does it for the sake of experimenting with a new thrilling sensation together. But that’s not the case. Renjun would hate it if Jeno thought that way—if he thought that Renjun couldn’t take this kind of relationship seriously. However, while they kiss and Renjun remains blind to Jeno’s thoughts, he thinks about how much he loves holding him like this. And Renjun would give anything to do it over and over again.

He’s taking advantage of the situation.

Something that bothers Renjun, though, is Jeno’s eagerness to take part in this dynamic as if it meant nothing. He can’t help but wonder whether Jeno would do the same with anyone who proposed it. Thinking about that possibility makes him shudder, and Renjun inevitably wonders if maybe he isn’t special at all. What if Jeno is using him to quench his curiosity? 

By the looks of it, Renjun might not even care about the things they do together as long as he’s having fun. At the end of the day, Jeno is unaware of Renjun’s feelings and the way he involuntarily smiles like a fool every time Jeno crosses his mind.

This is not okay. Renjun’s calm has been interrupted, leading uncertainty to wash over his body. He made the wrong decision, and he hates it. This is going to end badly. How could he make such a stupid decision? Such an uncertain relationship will only hurt him in the long run. And Renjun will drown in his own insecurities because he doesn’t understand what goes on in Lee Jeno’s mind.

Jeno is easy to read, yes. Renjun can easily tell when he’s being sincere, but the way he acts prompts him to think that Jeno’s head is empty. None of the million thoughts running through Renjun’s head are present in Jeno’s.

Renjun can’t stand this anymore. Everything is too much for him. He can’t stand it, and it makes him feel desperate. Initially, Renjun approached Jeno to play with him and become a bad influence on such a pristine boy; now, however, he can say that unknowingly, Jeno provokes more harm in him. Every second Renjun spends hearing his own thoughts and feelings is like torture, and this is entirely Jeno’s fault. Things were better when Jeno wasn’t a constant presence in his life and Renjun didn’t bother to worry about anything. Without paying attention to his surroundings, Renjun lived a peaceful life. Now, on the contrary, everything is so tangible. He can see it—Renjun can feel the world swallowing him, and the only one at fault is Jeno.

He needs things to go back to how they initially were.

🌩️. . .

Renjun isolates himself. Ironically, being a lonely kid pushes him to hold onto his loneliness, as if the cold could protect him. If he cuts ties with everyone, no one will hurt him, he won’t feel anything, and no weird thoughts will make their way into his silver little head. After all, being alone is what’s familiar to him; he’s used to that chilling calm. He can’t deal with the emotions that come with forming intimate and deep bonds.

He will use this time to reflect and take a breath. This way, he’ll stop feeling so overstimulated. Maybe processing everything will be easier without Jeno in his vicinity. 

Renjun stops replying to Jeno’s messages. He goes as far as not looking for him in the hallways either, ignoring the way those puppy eyes follow him all the time. He becomes colder—a myriad of excuses hidden under his sleeve. Surprisingly, Jeno becomes pushy. He never gives up, and that only makes Renjun’s task harder. But Renjun has always been a better player than him; he will succeed. 

Just like he predicted, his time in isolation allows him to feel calmer. Sometimes he sits on the third-floor bathroom’s sink with his phone in his hand, letting time pass because he doesn’t want to go to class. Renjun hates school. He’s not sure it could be useful for his future. It’s not like he has bad grades, but he has no idea what kind of path he wants to follow after graduating, which makes getting interested in his studies harder.

Sometimes Renjun ditches school to eat some corndogs. The old woman who owns the food shop is always kind—sometimes Renjun's sole reason for going to her shop is the way she smiles at him. 

Unfortunately, sometimes his dynamic is interrupted. 

Renjun is getting closer to the metal fence. He only needs to jump, and he will be out of that horrid place. However, there’s someone shouting in the distance. Renjun pretends that he can’t hear it; he's too busy putting his blazer inside his backpack on the floor. And, then, the vice principal is suddenly jogging in his direction.

Oh, fuck. Even his little moment of peace is ruined now. Renjun scowls at him, not even caring if he’s being disrespectful or not. 

“Why aren’t you in class?” The man asks with his arms crossed. He’s visibly upset, and his body posture aims at displaying authority.

But Renjun isn’t intimidated in the slightest.

“I was feeling a bit sick, so I left to have some fresh air.” He lies with ease. He’s so quick that someone wouldn’t suppose that he'd just thought of this answer.

The vice principal snickers at his answer, and Renjun can’t help but roll his eyes. He’s so annoying.

“I don’t believe you, Huang. Every teacher in this school knows that you’re always skipping class. Your excuses don’t work with me.”

“You can’t prove that I was ditching.” Renjun looks at him defiantly with his arm crossed. 

He’s sure that their discussion will end there and he will escape this situation; however, the vice principal is suddenly getting closer to him. Renjun raises an eyebrow.

“No, but I know you’re not in your classroom, and that’s enough.” The old man silently moves his chin in his direction, pointing at Renjun, who immediately takes a look at himself, trying to decipher what the man is trying to say. His blazer is still on his hand, formed into a messy ball, and his backpack is open on the floor, resting against his leg. Shit . “And you stink of cigarettes, knowing full well that smoking here isn’t allowed. I don’t care about what you decide to do to your lungs, but you can’t do it here. That sweatshirt,” the man points at him with a finger, “is not part of the uniform, and you still haven’t dyed your hair even though you have been scolded plenty of times. Come on.” Now, the man is turning around and making a gesture with his head. “We’re going to my office.”

Renjun frowns and curses him with gritted teeth before taking his stuff and following him begrudgingly. Even if the vice principal has no real proof that Renjun was about to escape from school, he has broken the school rules plenty of times. He will probably be punished for this. After running away throughout the entire school year, his time has finally come.

Renjun slumps in the chair with his arms crossed as he sees the old man write something on a piece of paper. Then he leaves the pen on the table and looks at him. He starts rambling about his misbehavior, but Renjun isn’t paying attention. He doesn’t care about any of this—that is, until he hears the word suspension. His composed expression immediately falters, and Renjun fixes his posture, even moving closer to the desk. He’s chewing on his lower lip when he asks the old man to repeat himself.

“What I said. This is not the first time you've broken the rules, so you’ll be suspended for seven days. When you come back, you must be wearing the uniform, and you can’t keep that color in your hair. If I had any proof that you smoke in the bathroom or ditch school often, your punishment would be bigger, though. You’re safe by now.”

The only thing Renjun can do is nod his head, pensive. He’s about to grab his backpack and leave the office when the vice principal speaks again.

“I hope you learn your lesson. If you’re caught doing this or something worse again, we can kick you out of the school. Do you get it?” Renjun stares at him. No words come from his mouth. The vice principal repeats his question, although his voice adopts a more threatening tone. This time, Renjun nods. “Your parents wouldn’t like that, so you better behave, Huang. Go to class.”

Renjun is disappointed in himself, although he has no reason for that. This is a result of his own actions; what was he expecting? Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. The vice principal’s words keep ringing against his ears, even when he lies down on his bed and pushes his hair out of his face. What a mess. What is he doing with his life? Renjun wanted to escape his own thoughts, yet now he fucked up even more. 

The next morning, his dad comes to his room before heading to work to wake him up. It's half past seven a.m., and if Renjun had gone to class, he should have left already. Instead, he’s still snuggled under the comfort of a bunch of blankets (because he’s the type to get cold at night). When he opens his eyes, his dad is standing in front of him, wearing formal attire. The man’s expression is dull and boring—too similar to Renjun’s usual expression. Renjun squints at him, visibly annoyed.

“Why didn’t you go to school?” his dad questions. At least he has the decency to keep his voice low.

He doesn’t seem annoyed, just confused. Or that’s before Renjun decides to sit on the mattress with a grunt. His eyes aren’t completely open. The light is bothering him, and his strands of silver hair are pointing in every possible direction.

“I got suspended for a week.”

There’s a second of silence. Renjun feels himself drift into sleep again until his dad speaks again, pulling him back to reality.

“What do you mean?”

Oh, now he sounds a bit angry. The tone of his voice deepens, and he even raises its volume. Hopefully, his mom isn’t home—Renjun doesn’t want her to hear. Otherwise, he’s dead.

Renjun simply shrugs and gets comfortable in his bed again.

“What you heard,” he mumbles.

He’s pulling the blankets up again when he hears his father repeat a series of “Hey, wait,” but Renjun simply grunts once more.

“We’re going to talk once I get back to work, ok? And you won’t go anywhere today.”

Oh, fuck.

Renjun wakes up late. There’s nothing for him to do, so he spends a long series of minutes spacing out in bed before deciding that he should cook himself a meal. That’s something Renjun really enjoys doing. He gets especially focused whenever he cooks, successfully silencing the world amidst the ingredients. It brings him satisfaction—cooking has a healing effect. He likes doing it when there’s no one around him who could bother him. Cooking could be his favorite part of the day.

At night, the conversation with his parents is strange. His mom frowns at him, and she doesn’t forget to repeat that his behavior has been nothing but disappointing. And it’s weird because she never pays attention to him until the moment of scolding comes. Every single interaction between him and his mother ends up in an argument while she nags at him in quick Mandarin. His dad, on the other hand, only sighs deeply, holding his head while he mutters something along the lines of What am I going to do with this kid?

And later, in the bathroom, while Renjun dyes his hair brunette in front of the mirror, the boy can’t help but wonder if he’s a failure. His parents failed at raising him properly, which resulted in a problem child—a disgrace. His parents must think the same; he’s sure of that. Renjun can see it in the way his dad avoids eye contact, and her mom’s expression morphs into one of pure disappointment. Their non-verbal language is enough to make Renjun think that he’s hopeless, and they expect nothing from him—they deem him incapable of anything.

It’s depressing, but it would be more depressing if Renjun had any expectations of himself. The problem is that he has been convinced that he’s hopeless. He can’t achieve great things if he doesn’t even know what he wants.

It’s on his third day at home that Renjun realizes that things shouldn’t be this way. He has the power to change the direction of his life. Renjun hates being perceived as someone inferior, insignificant, and incapable of doing something good for himself. He’s had enough of feeding on his own misery. That gloomy cloud that always engulfs him has prevented him from seeing that he can work on himself to be better. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, yet he has finally acknowledged that he hates the idea of being a failure, nothing but a lost child. Renjun hates that about himself.

He should start doing something for himself. He should correct his behavior. Sure, that conversation with the vice principal scared him a bit, but what stung the most were his parents’ judging eyes on him. They made him feel disgusting and worthless.

Renjun can’t stand himself anymore. He’s so lost that he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to be a disappointment. If he doesn’t start pushing for a change now, he’ll feel like he’s not enough for the rest of his life—he’ll be stuck being a pathetic guy pretending to know what he’s doing. Renjun wants to scream and tear his skin apart until he’s bleeding. His eyes get wetter with every passing second, and he can’t breathe, and before he can even realize it, Renjun breaks down in the loneliness of his own room. There’s no one at home who could hear his cries or the way his permanent armor has started to crack, allowing him to finally feel his own emotions on his skin. He cries in desperation for minutes that feel like an eternity, and his entire body shakes like a leaf in a storm. At some points, Renjun even feels his cries get stuck in his throat, yet he still makes an attempt to even out his breathing.

He’s weak and helpless; Renjun hates this part of himself, but facing it is absolutely necessary right now. He’s been torturing himself for a while, overthinking everything; it’s clear that finally reaching a conclusion would provoke this effect on him. The good part is that Renjun finally understands a core part of himself—a thought that has been sitting in a secluded corner of his head for a while, ignored, feeding off of him like a parasite and installing more of the same unintelligible thoughts inside.

Renjun doesn’t even remember the last time he cried this hard. It must have been long ago. He won’t stop crying any time soon—every hidden thought he bottled up is spilling from his eyes and rolling through his rosy cheeks. 

And when Renjun dries his tears with his own sleeve, he tells himself that this was necessary. There is a small moment in which that gloomy cloud has dissipated and his usual pessimism isn’t clouding his senses. Maybe fucking up was a necessary step to finally envision what he really wants and put a name to that horrible feeling that always wants to strangle him.

Overthinking and filling up his head with a myriad of thoughts that have no purpose whatsoever is useless. Maybe he will achieve something now that his mind has cleared up a bit. He still has a long way to go before he discovers how to make the right change in himself, but being aware of his own feelings is enough for now. 

Considering that Renjun views himself as a total hopeless failure, it makes sense that he would think that he’s an obstacle to the growth of the people around him. He takes a deep breath, once, twice, and three times, and he stares at the ceiling. Renjun is so fucking scared right now. He’s afraid of growing up and facing a future where the people around him don’t accept him. That’s why he always pretends to be in charge and that he has everything under control, hiding himself behind an expressionless mask made of steel.

Because, deep down, Renjun is nothing but a lost child—a hopeless, insecure kid whose self-esteem is on the floor, unable to react in front of his own emotions. Renjun is a kid alone in a forest, pretending that he knows his way out of it. Now, however, he has finally allowed himself to admit that he’s scared.

But that’s some progress, isn’t it? Renjun can’t see it yet. His chest feels lighter, and he’s embarrassed about crumbling down like that; nevertheless, he remains unaware of the extent to which this experience can let him grow. 

Right now, Renjun needs solace and someone who can lovingly caress his head and his back, whispering that everything will be okay in his ear. He needs support, yet no one at home notices that he’s currently going through something, and Renjun himself is too busy running away from the whole world. 

🌩️. . .

Renjun can’t keep running away from everyone. At least not when he’s forced to go back to school. He tries to; of course he does, yet it seems like he was distracted, and Jeno has become more agile than he thought he was. Jeno is quick to corner him as soon as he catches a glimpse of his figure. And when Renjun sees him, he’s frightened. Horror and panic wash over his face for a second because he’s not ready for this. Renjun never thought that he would be forced to face Jeno this soon, much less when  the other boy is visibly upset. He wants to escape and run away, but he can’t. Jeno grabs him by the arm and drags him downstairs, ignoring the way Renjun complains, ready to wear the mask that paints him as a boy with a bad attitude.

Deep inside, Renjun is anxious. Jeno’s grip on his arm is strong, and that usual tint of kindness and softness that usually coats every feature of his face is suddenly gone. Renjun doesn’t know what to do; he’s not ready for this. He’s so nervous that his first instinct is to hide behind his self-defense mechanisms. He shouldn’t be doing that, but maybe he can prevent Jeno from seeing inside his guts if he answers rudely to his questions. So, when Jeno starts taking too long to speak, Renjun pretends to be exasperated. He pretends that Jeno isn’t important in a poor attempt to push him away.

Renjun needs to stop him.

But Jeno seems to be even more tired of this situation than he is, and Renjun is surprised. Jeno looks at him with eyes full of anger and resentment, and the usually gentle boy is now aggressively spitting words as if he couldn’t keep anything inside him any longer. Jeno expresses what has been on his mind and stands for himself, not caring about Renjun’s practiced look of self-sufficiency. If the situation were different, Renjun would be proud of Jeno; now, however, he’s scared. 

Jeno corners Renjun and pushes him to talk, accusing him of being a coward who never lets anyone get close to him. There’s no use in playing dumb—Renjun knows that every word that comes from Jeno’s lips is true. Jeno calls him selfish for making decisions on his own and making him feel like Renjun only views him as a pet that will follow him anywhere. And Renjun can’t even say that it’s not true; Jeno is right when he says that Renjun never communicates and never shows that he’s struggling and, especially, is always pushing Jeno away. He can see that Jeno doesn’t like their dynamic anymore. Renjun has hurt him without intending to do so.

And Renjun can’t utter a single word to defend himself. Jeno is right. He’s finally aware of everything that’s wrong with Renjun. The worst part is that Renjun knows that he has been acting like a dick. He’s been selfish, and he has never taken Jeno’s own feelings into consideration. His own assumptions have guided every decision he has made.

How pathetic.

Renjun doesn’t even know how to respond to that. And he’s dumb enough to hide behind his feelings. What a dick.

“It’s just—” He starts looking down. He can’t bear to look at Jeno right now; he's too embarrassed to do so. “I was afraid of you realizing that you need better people in your life. I’m not even a good friend, and I feel so lost, and most of the decisions I make don’t make sense, and everyone says I’m a problem child. You wouldn’t want to be dragged into this mess… You need people who help you grow, you know? And it hurts because I like you so much, so I tried to push you away before you could do it first…” There is a pause, and then his voice comes out small, barely audible. “I want to be better, but I can’t because I don’t know how to.”

Renjun’s head works in an interesting way. He’s clumsy, and he contradicts himself rather often—characteristic of a boy who doesn’t even know what he wants. Even when he can’t understand his own desires, he pushes to obtain what he deems appropriate at the moment; then, he comes to the unavoidable realization that no one is happy with his bad decisions—not even himself. He tries to do things the right way, yet he always ends up screwing everything up. He never allows himself the opportunity to be happy; he is always disappointed in himself, drowning in  a pool of dissatisfaction. Sometimes he looks in the mirror, and his own hatred stings like a needle because he’s hard on himself like that.

For a boy like him, who has seldom felt affection directed at him, it’s hard to be nice to himself. He only knows looks of disappointment; of course he would think that he doesn’t deserve any better.

Renjun is tired. He’s not used to all these emotions. It’s dizzying. Standing in front of Jeno’s understanding eyes while the sun sets, Renjun only wants to look down and cease to exist.

He can’t even care about his impromptu confession. He admitted that he likes Jeno, and his cheeks turn red once he notices what he has said.

But then something else hits him like a train—another realization that leaves him speechless. Jeno has been aware of Renjun’s act this whole time—he learned how to read him, so he perfectly understands what’s underneath it all. Despite Renjun’s complicated personality, they have spent quite a lot of time together, making Jeno capable of noticing many things about him. This is what Jeno wanted, after all.

Jeno knows that Renjun is a hopeless teen who doesn’t know what he’s doing with his own life; he sees the way Renjun drowns in that pool of darkness that prevents him from seeing the light around him. That’s the worst part. Jeno understands him, yet he still thinks that’s not enough reason to suddenly leave him, and Renjun wants to grab him by the shoulder and ask, Are you dumb? What is wrong with you? Still, Jeno is way more open-minded than him. He’s always serene, categorizing every problem as small and insignificant. They’re different in that aspect.

At that moment, Renjun realizes that Jeno is way more mature than him. And Renjun feels tiny. Jeno assures him that all his problems have a solution—he doesn’t mind them at all; he can help Renjun, and that’s because the boy was brave enough to put everything that he kept hidden in his head into words. Now, Jeno understands him, and, as a consequence, he can accompany him through his journey. Jeno can take Renjun by the hand, assure him that not everything has been screwed up, and that he will stay by his side for as long as Renjun needs him.

“I know you feel lost and everything, but I don’t think that’s enough reason to stop hanging out. I think that’s normal. We just turned seventeen; we’re not supposed to have our entire lives sorted out, you know? You talk like it’s the end of the world.”

When Jeno speaks, he never stops looking right into Renjun’s eyes. His words are  comforting; maybe that’s exactly what Renjun needed to hear. There’s a knot forming in his throat, but Renjun won’t cry today, especially not in front of Jeno. He’s already embarrassed, and crying in front of him would only make it worse. Either way, his eyes are shiny.

Nonetheless, after that conversation, Renjun feels better. Jeno tried to tell him that there’s nothing wrong with him, and that really makes Renjun feel more at peace. The fact that Jeno wants to stay by his side also puts his heart at ease, and it even makes Renjun fall a bit deeper for him.

🌩️. . .

There’s still something occupying Renjun’s head. His confession. He wasn’t supposed to do that, especially like that and in the middle of an argument. Renjun didn’t even want Jeno to know that he had those sorts of feelings for him, yet he did, and there’s no turning back now. And it was embarrassing. As soon as Renjun remembers that he used his feelings to excuse himself, his cheeks get warmer, and he questions Jeno’s current perception of him.

Moreover, Jeno never explicitly addressed that part of the conversation, and now Renjun is stuck wondering if Jeno didn’t notice what he said or maybe he simply chose to ignore it. Renjun feels silly, especially considering that he didn’t even get an answer. He tries not to worry too much. When the sky started getting darker, Jeno still offered him his hand and a warm smile, which, in Renjun’s eyes, was especially adorable. And Renjun took his hand, feeling safe in his hold as they walked to the bus stop.

Jeno said that he wanted to stay by his side, and Renjun believes him. He trusts him deeply, so he says nothing. They’re fine this way, yes. They will be fine.

Their relationship doesn’t change. It goes back to normal. Now, though, they have longer, deeper conversations instead of spending most of the time with their lips locked. Renjun tries to avoid skipping class as often as he did (keyword: tries) , and Jeno insists that he will reject every single one of his invitations to make him stay inside his classroom. It works partially, but it does.

That’s why now they hang out mostly after class. They smoke a cigarette while they wait for the bus, and then they go to Jeno’s apartment. Jeno thinks it’s best if they study together and help each other out; it could serve as  motivation. And whenever Renjun catches Jeno with his phone in his hands, he slaps his arms and frowns, knowing full well that Jeno would do the same for him.

Renjun’s grades aren’t that good thanks to the amount of time he's spent skipping class since the semester began. It takes him a bit of time to get the hang of the contents. Jeno believes that this new dynamic will help him get in shape and become more responsible.

This is pure self-discipline. When Renjun thinks about it, it becomes a bit comical. Jeno is definitely taking advantage of the situation, thinking that Renjun won’t notice. But he does and chooses to remain silent; he can let Jeno have the upper hand for once, even if that means that Jeno will treat him like a puppy who needs training in order to behave. When Renjun said that he wanted to become more responsible and do something better for himself, he didn’t mean this exactly. He might be lazy and irresponsible, and maybe he needs someone to pressure him to work hard, but this treatment isn’t much of a necessity; still, he will let Jeno have his fun for once.

It helps Jeno, too. He gets distracted very easily, and when he does, he distracts Renjun with his chatting too.

So it isn’t surprising that sometimes they forget about their open notebooks and move from the dining table to the couch. They haven’t touched their pens in a while, too lost in their current conversation. Renjun is explaining something about his favorite bands to Jeno, who is listening attentively even though the topic has nothing to do with the content on the pages of their textbook.

The original flow of their conversation is interrupted when they move from one space to another, and Jeno takes advantage of that. The couch is more comfortable for the two of them, allowing them to be close to one another. And, while they laugh over something, Jeno takes the opportunity, moving forward to steal a kiss from Renjun.

And Renjun panics.

They have kissed plenty of times before; it should be natural by now. Renjun never really cared about it, but this time is different. This is the first time Jeno tries to kiss him after their conversation in the park, and, deep down, Renjun is still worried about his accidental confession. It’s definitely been on his mind for the past week. Renjun is good at overthinking, and that sort of habit won’t die from one day to the next.

Renjun moves his head to the side, successfully avoiding Jeno. His eyes are wide open, and he breathes heavily. He hopes Jeno doesn’t notice how nervous he is right now; however, his reaction is already telltale of the turmoil in his head. Jeno stares back at him with a puzzled expression while he goes back to his original position. His ears turn red in embarrassment, and he avoids eye contact. The silence is loud and uncomfortable—too hard to not notice. Renjun wants to take his head between his hands in frustration; he fucked up again.

“Sorry,” he mutters in a low voice, and, this time, he’s the one who refuses to look at the boy in front of him, gluing his eyes to his lap instead.

But Renjun can do this. He takes a deep breath, once or twice. He must talk about the way he feels; he can do it. The two of them agreed to become more expressive and communicate themselves because neither of them is a mind reader who can understand what’s on the other’s mind without uttering a word. Renjun must stop running away every time he faces a problem, and to do that, he must learn to understand his own emotions. That’s the first step. If something bothers him, he needs to let it out. Renjun can’t keep torturing himself with his own feelings.

Jeno remains silent, but Renjun wants to avoid looking at him, even if it’s a quick glance. He can’t tell if the other boy is upset or simply embarrassed.

“It’s just…” Renjun speaks again. He makes the attempt. His fists tighten on his lap for a second; he’s nervous, and he can’t help but play with his own fingers while he speaks. “Doing, you know, that makes me a bit uncomfortable now…”

“Why?”

Jeno’s eyes are scrutinizing, and Renjun wants to hide.

This is so embarrassing. He swallows hard before speaking.

“Because I told you I liked you, and you didn’t say anything.” His voice comes out thin, tiny, and scared, like he doesn’t intend on being heard. Saying this was hard, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear an answer. They say ignorance is bliss; being in front of Jeno’s answer makes him nervous. Maybe there was a reason he never replied.

For a few seconds, there’s only silence. Renjun’s breathing is loud in his own ears. Jeno is taking too long to answer. Suddenly, there is a hand on his shoulder.

“Look at me,” says Jeno. His voice is soft, and he speaks in the same way one does in front of a stray cat that hides itself whenever people pass by.

Renjun lifts his head slowly until his gaze finally meets Jeno’s warm eyes, fixed on him. Jeno’s gaze is intense, and it makes Renjun feel tiny and bare, but not in the way his parents make him feel. He doesn’t feel insignificant, but he feels vulnerable. Jeno studies his face with eyes full of attention, and Renjun feels akin to a bug under a microscope. He doesn’t know what to do. Jeno’s full attention is placed on him, focused, yet it doesn’t seem like there is any intention behind the intensity of his stare; he’s just admiring the boy in front of him.

“You’re really precious to me,” he declares. The way Renjun’s eyes open is almost hilarious. Jeno’s words take him aback, and his entire face reddens.

His heart is beating like crazy. He wasn’t expecting this.

“That’s why I’m still here and why I wanna stay by your side. Because you’re precious to me.”

Oh. 

That’s a lot to process.

Renjun wants to look away, but Jeno’s stare is alluring, and Renjun is afraid of disobeying his previous order, so he stays like that—his eyes are fixed on Jeno’s even if the words have abandoned him. He should say something, so he opens his mouth, but nothing comes from it. There’s a smile slowly getting drawn on Jeno’s face—he probably thought that Renjun’s reaction was funny, and that’s embarrassing. Renjun has never felt this before, so he doesn’t know how to act.

“What do you mean? As a friend?”

And Jeno finally breaks their intense exchange, unable to contain his laugh. It sounds so genuine that Renjun feels even more self-conscious.

“More than a friend.”

“Then what are we?”

“What do you want us to be?”

And that’s when something clicks in Renjun’s head. After all, Jeno will always put Renjun’s feelings over his; he will always let the other boy take the upper hand when making decisions. That’s not healthy, especially considering that they’re still learning how to properly communicate—plus the fact that Renjun has a tendency to run away from his problems. Those attitudes would only add more obstacles to a relationship, and if they were to become official, their relationship would end rather soon. Suddenly, the spell has been broken. The soft, mushy feeling that was filling Renjun’s insides is gone. 

Renjun doesn’t want a relationship—not yet. He’s not ready, and, objectively speaking, neither is Jeno. If they were to be together, that would be a mess, and they would end up ruining everything they are slowly building at the moment. In a brief moment of clarity, Renjun realizes that he prefers to wait rather than lose Jeno thanks to uncomfortable tags and unstable relationships. 

He sighs and gathers the courage to look Jeno right in the eye while he pronounces the words.

“I think it’s best if we simply stay the way we are right now.”

There’s a tint of disappointment washing over Jeno’s face. Renjun can see it, and it hurts him. Jeno looks like a kid who has just discovered the truth behind a lie he’s believed for a long time, akin to someone whose heart has been ripped out of their chest and squished in front of their eyes. Nevertheless, Jeno never questions why, and instead, he only nods; the action itself is already a problem.

Jeno knows that he can express his own opinion, but this time he’s not doing it, and that upsets Renjun.

“Jeno,” he starts again, “I really like you, but I need to be honest with you. I’m not ready— we’re not ready . I mean, look at you; you aren’t even saying anything.”

Now it’s Jeno’s time to look down and avoid eye contact. He seems to be pondering their situation, and Renjun waits in front of him with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. What do you think? Do you agree?”

“Well, I can’t say you’re wrong.” Jeno looks at him again with sincere eyes. They’re finally having a proper conversation like grownups. “We have to work on our own issues to avoid having problems again. Maybe we do need to wait until we’re ready. We both know how we feel about the other, and that’s enough.”

“But do you really agree? You can tell me if you don’t, Jeno.”

“No, you’re right. You’re right. We need to do what’s best for us.”

His answer doesn’t entirely convince Renjun, so he simply stares at him for a second before accepting that Jeno is actually being honest. An important part of staying in tune with one another is trust, and Renjun trusts Jeno deeply, so he will believe him this time. He doesn’t want to hurt him, so, to finish off their conversation, Renjun kisses his cheek. When Jeno smiles at him, his eyes don’t take the shape of crescent moons, and that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He’s aware that this is a somewhat uncomfortable situation for the two of them. They can take the next step, yet they’re not doing it. Renjun understands if Jeno is feeling frustrated right now; he’s thankful for the way he’s accepting this decision. Of course, Renjun wants to put a name to whatever they have, too. Staying in a weird and abstract gray zone is frustrating; he knows that, but he’s still too flawed, and he really wants to work on himself to offer Jeno his best version. He wouldn’t want Jeno to patch his scars and endure certain things just because he’s tied to him. Renjun is aware of his complex personality, and he doesn’t want Jeno to feel forced to stay by his side. He wants to give him the opportunity to make his own decision.

In the same way, Renjun is also aware of Jeno’s lack of autonomy. He’s seen it firsthand: Jeno is usually dependent, and he can be easily manipulable. He wants Jeno to grow on his own. Although Jeno is learning to say no and stand up for himself, he still has a long way to go. Jeno must learn to be on his own sometimes, too.

Furthermore, since they met each other, they’ve only been fooling around with superficial conversations, lit cigarettes, and messy makeout sessions. If Renjun thinks about it for a second, they still need to know each other on a deeper level. For instance, Jeno doesn’t know that Renjun is a great cook or the complexity of his relationship with his parents and the way it affects him. He wants Jeno to slowly unveil every part of him, and, in the same way, Renjun wants to do the same. Renjun wants to discover everything he can about Jeno, from his preferred type of media to his plans for the future. And to discover every piece that composes Jeno’s persona, Renjun must get to know him properly. They need to talk and share the way they envision the world—share their opinions, even if they’re discussing the most mundane topics.

To do that, they need to take things slowly. To follow a steady path, they must take their time.

🌩️. . .

Renjun expected things between him and Jeno to take a different turn. He feared that things could become tense and awkward. Surprisingly, nothing changes. They move forward naturally, not minding whatever issue they might have left open in their previous conversations for the sake of building a strong and healthy friendship. Renjun forces his feelings to become quieter to avoid crossing a line, clearly unaware that he already crossed it months ago.

Even though they spend a lot of time together, joining different puzzle pieces to get to know each other, sometimes they can go days without talking to each other. A simple smile and a wave in the hallways of the school are enough to fill their weekly quota of interaction. Whenever that happens, Renjun makes an active effort to remind himself that this is normal. They’re both busy with their own lives, and they aren’t required to speak to each other all the time. It’s not like Jeno has suddenly decided that he’s tired of him, right?

His thinking process becomes hilarious once he remembers that Jeno is probably thinking the same. The poor boy is trying to stop himself from feeling guilty for taking time for himself, reminding himself that Renjun won’t get mad at him for doing something like this.

And, whenever they hang out again (a simple, awkward text that reads something along the lines of Hey, I’m not doing anything tomorrow afternoon, wanna come over?) , they have more things to share and talk about. This is what healthy friendships look like, right?

And, sometimes, when the words die out, one of them crosses the line while the other simply allows him to. The absence of an official tag won’t prevent them from kissing from time to time. They pretend that they don’t know what it means, too busy focusing on enjoying the moment as if that wouldn’t impact their relationship and their feelings.

But it’s fine. That’s what Renjun thinks. This is fine. He’s finally at peace, and, surprisingly, the whole situation with Jeno doesn’t make him worry, and that’s weird because the last time he wasn’t overwhelmed was when he used to pretend that he didn’t care about the world around him. Now, however, he’s extremely self-conscious; still, there aren’t any displeasing emotions in his head—Renjun is truly at peace for once. The most surprising part is that he notices that calming sensation spreading under his skin and is able to identify it.

Perhaps talking with Jeno was all he needed. Renjun needed to hear the reassurance in his voice, silently telling him that none of his doubts or assumptions were true.

There are still some negative thoughts that sometimes sneak into his head, but Renjun can handle them. He can sleep at night without feeling like tearing his own skin apart. He might be insecure and have low self-esteem, but he’s trying to work on it.

That’s why Renjun soon realizes that this type of relationship eases his fear of losing Jeno. Jeno is not his yet; they aren’t tied together by a rope, and the boy is free to do whatever he pleases. Seeing him there, still by his side, shows Renjun that staying is Jeno’s own decision. If one day Jeno decides to leave him or simply finds someone else, Renjun will have to accept it and move on.

Sometimes he still worries about his own worth. Sometimes Renjun sits on his own bed and thinks that Jeno deserves someone better; in the end, though, Jeno is the one to make that decision. Getting used to that mindset is still weird and hard, but he’s slowly understanding it. There’s no such thing as deserving someone’s love or not, especially as a teen, and Renjun has to repeat that idea many times in order to finally convince himself of it.

If one day Renjun gets his shit together and decides that he wants to become Jeno’s boyfriend—the mere idea gives him goosebumps—he will need some qualities to give him the treatment he deserves: to offer him his company and bring him happiness instead of overwhelming him with problems. But they aren’t boyfriends yet. There’s still time to work on himself and be ready to take the next step.

Renjun lowers his walls and takes small risks. He dares to open up about his inner feelings and aspirations, to hug his own vulnerability without hating it. There are some scars that he must learn to accept, and a part of that is allowing himself to suffer if he accidentally touches them with the tip of his fingers, opening the wound. He can’t ignore this step, or else he won’t be able to move forward.

One day, Renjun and Jeno are sitting on the couch while discussing their plans for the future. They’re in their senior year, and it’s time to start reflecting on that sort of thing. Renjun mentions that his dad is a lawyer, and since he hates anything related to science and medicine, maybe the most appropriate thing is to follow his steps.

Jeno chuckles, and when Renjun raises an eyebrow inquisitively, he says:

“A guy like you wants to be a lawyer?”

“And what about it?” Renjun’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest.

“Nothing. Just thought it was a bit ironic, but, hey, I think I can picture it.”

And then Jeno asks something about his dad. The question is inoffensive, so Jeno doesn’t notice right away the sort of effect it has on the boy in front of him. Renjun stays quiet for a second, gazing away. Jeno is about to ask if he said something wrong and assure him that he shouldn’t feel obligated to answer if he’s uncomfortable, but Renjun must man up and face certain topics instead of running away. Jeno deserves to know everything about him, even that part that suffers like a devastated, hopeless kid.

Renjun takes the step.

His dad and he don’t talk much, but Renjun pretends that he doesn’t care in the slightest. Their relationship is better than the one with his mother, though; his dad notices the details and slight changes in his son even when he’s wrong sometimes, and even though he isn’t as affectionate as Renjun would like him to be, his dad never talks to him like he’s a bother.

Deep down, Renjun believes that if they have something in common, they may get closer. When it comes to his dad, Renjun can see the possibility of fixing their relationship; that’s not the case when it comes to his mother.

When Jeno prompts him to elaborate, Renjun can’t hold himself together any longer, and he starts to tear up. There’s a single tear rolling down his cheek, shiny and lonely. His narrow shoulders tremble, and Renjun wants to hide. He brings his sleeve to his face, and the fabric of that oversized gray hoodie is as comfortable and comforting as ever.

Jeno simply stares at him and waits patiently until he’s ready to speak again. There’s a hand rubbing circles on Renjun’s back. He feels silly for crying like this, and he hates the idea of Jeno seeing him in this state. But he must do it, so he endures the displeasure. This is important.

“She barely talks or even looks at me, and I feel so insignificant and invisible,” Renjun manages to say in between sobs. “I get that she’s always been busy, but it’s like she’s gotten used to not caring about me. She acts like I’m a bother and a disappointment because I’m useless.”

Renjun doesn’t know how he managed to speak without his voice cracking or feeling forced to stop. The ears are clouding his sight, and he keeps chewing on his lips as if that would help him stop crying. 

Then Jeno opens his arms and whispers, Come here . It’s barely audible. Jeno circles his arms around Renjun’s thin figure and kisses his temple. Jeno brings him warmth and comfort and silently tells him that he’s still by his side.

“And every time I see her, I feel lonelier because I know that she doesn’t—” Renjun never finishes his sentences. No words come to mind, but Jeno understands what he means, judging by the way he nods his head and tightens his hold. 

His feelings didn’t turn into anger. Renjun embraced his sadness without mistaking it for rage. He’s moving forward.

Renjun hides his head in the crook of Jeno’s neck, closes his eyes, and focuses on absorbing Jeno’s warmth. He focuses on breathing against Jeno’s skin and the sensation of safety that being held like this evokes. Jeno never judged him or dismissed his feelings; instead, he gave Renjun the space to express himself. 

That day, when Renjun goes back home and heads to his bedroom, a myriad of thoughts fill his head. His movements are slow as he goes up the stairs. He doesn’t even make any sound, and no one approaches him to greet him; that doesn’t matter. There’s a strange feeling of emptiness and coldness. Renjun gets in bed and covers himself with the blankets until not a single brunette hair is visible. 

He has a hard time falling asleep; his mind is extremely loud tonight, and the thoughts are running everywhere. He reflects on the events of the day and thinks about Jeno, who accepts him the way he is, stays by his side, and accompanies him without interjecting more than necessary and becoming an obstacle. Jeno is supportive when he needs to be, and he’s especially warm, like a sunbeam. Renjun likes that. He likes the positive effect that Jeno’s presence has on him. He really wants to have the same effect on him one day.

Renjun really wants to keep moving forward, maturing emotionally, and growing as a person. In the future, if time allows, he might even go to therapy; a professional might give him the tools he needs and help him work on the many problems he isn’t considering at the moment.

He wants to do something good for Jeno, too. He wants to be his shelter, give him support, and make him feel that Renjun is ready to hold him and that beside him there’s a safe space for him. And when the roles are reversed, and this time he’s the one hugging Jeno while he sobs, Renjun can feel the way their bond grows stronger and healthier. They're good for each other because they want it that way, and they’re making the right effort to make things work.

🌩️. . .

Sometimes it feels like it’s only the two of them. Everything will be okay as long as they have each other. It doesn’t matter if their relationship is still somewhat vague and they’re trapped in that abstract zone where they’re nothing but everything at the same time.

Sometimes Renjun tells himself that the name is not important as long as Jeno is beside him, loving him. It doesn’t matter because they keep growing closer and closer, both emotionally and physically.

Renjun thinks about that while he stares at Jeno’s naked body sleeping beside him. His mom had the night shift at the hospital, so she had left the apartment about two hours ago. Jeno didn’t waste time and invited him for a sleepover that suddenly turned into something else. From his position, Renjun can still see Jeno’s uniform on the floor. He sleeps soundly, but Renjun can still remember the touch of his fingertips and his moans against his ear, akin to a murmur that has been engraved on his mind. He brings a delicate hand to Jeno’s face and brushes a strand of black hair away from his forehead.

Jeno looks serene, and Renjun likes that. He adores this guy, and he wants to make him happy. At this moment, Renjun finally feels like he’s ready enough. His biggest wish is to have a car and take Jeno places; he envisions them having a picnic on the beach—Jeno will enjoy the food Renjun cooked for him, and Renjun will think that his smile is far more mesmerizing than the scenery around them.

Maybe this is only a part of the delusion that comes with being in love, but Renjun wants to stay by his side for a long time.

At some point, Jeno lazily opens his eyes. He stares at Renjun from below and frowns.

“Aren’t you tired?” He asks with a raspy voice, and Renjun finally gets comfortable in the bed and snuggles beside him—their bare skin comes into contact. 

That doesn’t mean that they’re doing great all the time. The problems and worries that live in Renjun’s head like parasites aren’t completely gone. The days pass by, pages of the calendar are torn off, the Earth keeps spinning in its orbit, and Renjun feels a growing tension between Jeno and him. In the beginning, a few months ago, they could ignore their feelings for the sake of growing up and building a healthy relationship. However, what seemed like a mere transitory phase now seems to have established itself in their lives. And Renjun is scared of getting used to this.

It’s even more evident after sharing their first time together. This is a whole new level of intimacy, and this abstract gray zone where they simply wait to be ready for each other is not enough. It’s suffocating. Renjun is feeling too much, and he can’t keep ignoring what’s so evident and suppressing what he feels because he’s afraid of getting ahead of himself. What if one day he says something and scares Jeno away because, in reality, they aren’t dating yet?

It feels like they are traveling on a train, yet the ticket they bought never indicated its destination. Renjun despises this lack of clarity. He sits on his bed at night and overthinks and questions his perception of reality. It’s been so long since they came to this agreement that he’s started to feel that they aren’t getting anywhere, even if he’s still holding his train ticket between his fingers.

Perhaps Jeno and him aren’t on the page. Perhaps Renjun is giving it too much importance. Perhaps Jeno never intended on having something serious and official with him, and he’s waiting for their graduation to have an excuse to get rid of Renjun. He doesn’t know. Everything sounds like an absurd idea, but when he ponders it for a little bit longer, everything sounds like a possibility. It’s overwhelming. Renjun hates the sudden awkwardness he feels when he’s with Jeno. And, even if Jeno holds his hand, the tension is so great that Renjun feels like he’s actually grabbing him by the neck, teasing him with suffocation.

Deep down, Renjun knows that a big possible reason for this anxiety is the approaching end of his life as a high schooler. In a few more weeks, Renjun will no longer be a student. Maybe he expected Jeno and him to have sorted out their relationship at this point. It’s been a whole year since Renjun confessed. Jeno should give him an answer and tell him if he’s ready for the next step.

He knows that Jeno loves him. Renjun can see it in the way Jeno smiles at him, like there’s nothing better in the whole world than spending time with him—and that’s better than not receiving anything from him. Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean that Renjun is satisfied. Jeno notices the tension engulfing Renjun, and that’s the worst part because he feels like there’s a ticking bomb tied to his body. Nevertheless, Renjun can’t say anything, at least not yet—if he does, Jeno will only tell him that his affection is enough to not want to be apart from his side.

But Renjun needs things to be spelled out for him, and he thought Jeno knew that. He’s going insane because he can’t stop contradicting himself, and there are so many thoughts that Renjun can’t even distinguish reality anymore.

Just like that, their graduation day comes. His dad attends the ceremony, carrying a bucket of flowers in one hand, and Renjun feels oddly moved by his gesture. Then he might make a mistake and let his thoughts win over him, accidentally introducing Jeno as his boyfriend when that’s not the case yet and they’re only dancing around each other. And, later, when they get in the car together, his dad might ask him if he was telling the truth about that guy being his boyfriend, making him feel a tiny bit pathetic. However, none of that is important at the moment. The turmoil in Renjun’s head vanishes for a second.

Renjun should be thankful for the little moment of peace, but, in reality, he’s nervous as hell. His dad is currently sitting in front of him in a fancy restaurant, scanning the menu as they decide what they will have for lunch, and Renjun (finally wearing his uniform like a proper kid) can’t stop fidgeting in his place. He feels small, like he’s ten years old all over again instead of eighteen.

“Have you thought about your future?” The man asks, and Renjun jolts on his spot, taken by surprise by the sudden question. “Or… don’t tell me that you don’t plan on taking the college entrance exams, Huang Renjun.”

The teen is quick to shake his head as soon as he sees his dad’s raised eyebrow. His entire body is tense under his father’s scrutinizing eyes. Renjun is not used to receiving his attention, and he can’t pinpoint if his gaze on him is judging or not.

“I was thinking of applying to Law School,” he murmurs. His voice is small, as if he were afraid of revealing that information, scared at the idea of his father reading between the lines and spotting his true intentions.

Instead, his dad smiles. It’s almost inconspicuous, and it doesn’t reach his dull black eyes. Oddly enough, Renjun’s smile is an exact copy of his dad’s.

“You’re going to Law School, wow…” The man speaks to himself. There are traces of a chuckle on the tip of his tongue. “It’s actually pretty hard, you know? So you must work hard to make it, boy.”

And Renjun nods more enthusiastically than necessary. That seems to have broken the ice between them. While they eat, his dad keeps rambling about the topic. There’s a hint of excitement in his voice, and Renjun can see a faint smile on his face. This is a great sign, and without even noticing it, Renjun realizes that his heart is full. This might be one of the instances where he’s been able to feel a certain bond between them in his entire life, yet that doesn’t make it less heartwarming.

Renjun’s small bubble bursts at night when Jeno calls him on the phone to invite him over for lunch tomorrow. Renjun is still embarrassed for his mishap and a tad overwhelmed by the events of the day. For a moment, Renjun even considered not picking up the call and letting his phone vibrate over his desk. Too afraid of hearing Jeno’s voice, Renjun considered ignoring him for a second. Nevertheless, when he picks up the call, Jeno speaks with as much naturality as always, and Renjun can’t tell if that’s a great sign or not. He’s frustrated and even more nervous.

Sometimes Renjun doesn’t understand Jeno. It must be part of being so different from each other. Renjun can’t tell why the boy is so relaxed all the time, seemingly unaware of Renjun’s endless worries. Jeno never dwells on things, and Renjun can’t understand how he does that sometimes.

Still, he must face this problem. Renjun has spent a lot of time torturing himself with his blaring feelings, waiting for something to happen. He would be stupid if he didn’t take the chance to speak right now.

Even though they push their conversation as much as they can, when they finally sit down and talk to each other, Renjun finally feels like he can breathe. Jeno explains that he hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to overwhelm him, and Renjun feels like he’s filling his lungs with oxygen after spending hours with his head tucked under a bowl of water. Jeno hugs him tightly, whispering over and over again that he won’t ever let him go, and Renjun realizes that he wouldn’t oppose that.

Renjun feels safe. A weight is lifted from his shoulders, and he can finally focus on more important things. He must choose a university and work even harder for the entrance exams; he might even need to ask his dad for help with the preparations. There are so many things to plan, and Renjun wants to do things right for once. 

One day, Jeno and he have a serious conversation about the topic. If they’re official, they must decide what they will do from now on. Jeno wants to major in anthropology, and he’s interested in a university located in a nearby city. They browse through websites together, investigating what’s best for them, until Renjun is convinced enough to apply to the same university. Then, they may have to look for a place to rent together. The development of their romantic relationship in the last year has successfully imitated a friendship, so they won’t have problems getting along with each other under the same roof. 

Even though they know that they are their own individuals, the two of them waited for a long time to finally be together like this. Neither of them wants distance to kill what they have built with so much effort. Also, this is a great opportunity for the two of them: they can share expenses, and the name of that university will look pretty good on their degrees.

Furthermore, Renjun loves the idea of beginning again in a brand new place. He won’t know anyone in that city, and for a long time, he will probably only know his commute route until he fully adapts to the new scenery. And he likes that. Jeno will be his only company for a while, so he won’t get overwhelmed with his family issues either.

This is an opportunity for a new start. And Renjun will work hard this time. Yes, he might be lazy sometimes, but he’s also quite stubborn; once he sets his mind on something, he will do anything to get it. Renjun wants to do something for himself; he should take advantage of this situation and do things right for once. Moreover, Jeno will be by his side, and that makes him extremely happy because Jeno’s presence is like a safety blanket. Renjun wants Jeno to feel the same way when they’re together.

Renjun is ready. He’s excited for the new start that awaits him. He also feels at peace with his heart, and there aren’t overwhelming thoughts suffocating him anymore. Renjun wants to grow; he can envision himself doing so. He knows he hasn’t fully healed yet, and that’s evident, but he also knows that the thoughts about his own self-worth don’t bother him anymore. Sure, he can fall into that hole again in the future, but Renjun believes that the worst has already passed. Renjun has learned from himself and corrected the attitudes that pushed him to despise himself; that’s because he learned to understand himself. And Renjun wants to keep moving forward.