Work Text:
List of infuriating things Chenle does:
- Chews with his mouth open
- Cuts me off whenever I talk
- Wants to win all the time
- Does whatever he wants, without fail
- Gets whatever he wants, without fail
This list is a long one, and Jisung is determined to keep every single one in mind whenever the gnawing loneliness in his chest consumes him. Before he misses Chenle all over again.
It’s been a year. And eight months. Since Chenle broke up with him. And according to Chenle’s Instagram post, Jisung does not periodically check on his burner account, it’s been six months since Chenle has gotten himself a brand new boyfriend. Happy 6-monthsversary, Kun-ge, his caption says. Who celebrates 6-monthsversaries? That’s not even a real thing. Jisung thinks to himself because he hates couples who have stupid celebrations, especially when it's his ex-boyfriend.
Stupid Chenle. Stupid Chenle who’s dating stupid Kun. Stupid, perfect, Kun. Jisung hates them both. Okay, maybe not Kun, because even Jisung knows there’s nothing about him to hate. He can’t even call him stupid because he’s literally the smartest guy Jisung’s ever met. Not that he actually met the guy, Jisung’s just obsessive and stalked his LinkedIn page.
So now Jisung is making a list. He is going to get over Chenle. Whatever it takes.
He has a plan, but he’s open to better ideas. He’s Wiki-Howed how to get over a breakup. He’s also Googled how to get selective amnesia, in which he found that it’s caused by “traumatic events such as war, abuse, accidents or disasters”. And Jisung thinks to himself that having his heart shatter to a million pieces the second the door closed with his first love on the other side was damn near close. And the nail in the coffin, what’s equally heart-shattering, was the tears in Chenle’s eyes. Because it hurt him too.
But his stupid brain hates him because he still remembers the feeling; his heart breaks all over again, and it hurts so much the pain feels physical.
It hurts so much because he loved Chenle so much. And maybe it was too much for Chenle, or maybe not enough, but Jisung begged him, saying that he’ll be better, he’ll learn, he’ll do anything , to get him to stay. But Chenle was never as patient as Jisung. So he left, and got himself a new boyfriend, who was like Jisung, but Kun didn’t need to learn, be better, or do anything. He was better.
Chenle has moved on. He’s happy. Jisung knows this because he can’t help but ask their friends how Chenle’s doing, only for Mark to tell him Chenle’s doing okay. Too uncomfortable to say he’s doing great , too polite to tell Jisung he’s doing great without you. So Mark settles for okay.
And Jisung really wishes he was the bigger person and says he’s happy for Chenle, but he’s not. In fact, Jisung wishes Chenle feels lonely. When he’s going to bed and Kun is asleep next to him, when he wakes up to the bed empty and Kun’s out on one of his morning jogs, or when they’re cuddling on the couch watching Netflix. Jisung wishes he feels lonely. In those moments, Jisung wishes, that he would pop up in Chenle’s mind. Because Chenle never really left his.
Jisung also really wishes he was a worse person. Because even though he thinks he wants Chenle to feel as shitty as he does, he also loves him too much to want Chenle to ever feel that way. Chenle, who chews with his mouth open. Who talks so much, Jisung can’t even get a word in. Who is unnecessarily competitive. He deserves the world.
Loud chewer, talks too much, overly competitive, impulsive – Jisung recites this in his mind over and over again as he pulls up at their favorite arcade and again at the basketball court they used to play at, the one where Jisung doesn’t even try to win because seeing Chenle so happy at beating him made Jisung happier. Chatterbox, thinks he’s always right, condescending, he thinks to himself, as he makes an order for two at their favorite dim sum place.
Jisung doesn’t even know why he decided to go here today. The menu’s in Chinese, and the waitresses always look at him weirdly when you don’t order in Mandarin. He looks at the old menu and toys with its torn edges while the waitress huffs impatiently with the little notepad in her hand. The pictures are faded, but Jisung remembers the ones they used to order. By they, he means Chenle because he’s impatient and thinks Jisung takes too long looking at the menu. So he points an awkward finger at the xiao long bao, the chicken feet, and the pot-stickers. He points at the bokchoy and tomato eggs. Because if he doesn’t order any veggies Chenle would tell on him to his mom. He orders enough for two.
The waitress scribbles his order quickly and leaves to go to the kitchen. Jisung twiddles his thumbs and sighs. The restaurant is loud, with the clanging and chattering. It’s a bit of a sensory overload for Jisung, but it makes it easy for him to disassociate and not look too weird. It’s getting late, and one by one, each table clears out. Jisung is taking his time eating because he wasn’t really that hungry, to begin with. 30 minutes later, Jisung’s xiao long baos are cold and sticking to the basket, and he’s left by himself in his little corner. He nibbles, relishing the quiet.
The little bell on the door rings and Jisung is forced out of his daydreaming. A man wearing a black cap and hoodie walks in. Chenle? Jisung thinks to himself, as a joke. A joke he thought was so funny he chuckled out loud. The man whips his head towards Jisung’s direction and they make eye contact. What the fuck.
It is Chenle. Because the universe hates him and likes to make a joke out of him. Chenle looked away so fast it was embarrassing. Jisung stares because he doesn’t really have much to lose.
“How many?” the waitress at the front asks in Chinese.
“Just one,” Chenle replies, holding up his pointer finger.
And Jisung wishes the world swallowed him whole. Because being stuck here with Chenle and his new boyfriend would’ve rubbed salt in the wound, and maybe that would’ve helped him truly get over Chenle. Being stuck here with Chenle, just Chenle, makes Jisung think he’s alone. It makes Jisung hope. Which would otherwise be a good thing, if he hadn’t put so much effort in getting over him.
He gets seated in the booth across Jisung’s, of all places. Chenle clears his throat.
“Jisung?” he acts like he’s surprised, but it comes out a little too awkward and stiff.
“Hi,” Jisung says.
“Hi.”
Jisung takes a second to really look at him. His hair is longer and darker. His skin is as fair as he remembered, his lips as pink as he missed. “How are you?” Jisung asks because he hates himself. Maybe he needs to hear it for himself.
“I’m great,” he smiles a close-lipped smile that looks more like a frown. “You?”
“Great,” Jisung lies.
“Great,” Chenle glances at Jisung’s table full of half-eaten food. “You waiting for someone?”
Jisung looks at the empty seat in front of him, “Yeah.”
“Oh,” Chenle says, nodding slowly to himself.
A beat of silence.
“But I don’t think he’s coming. You wanna take a seat?” Jisung doesn’t know where all his self-preservation went.
“Uh,” Chenle takes a second to think before he answers, uncharacteristically, “Sure.”
Jisung smiles at him. A genuine one because he really, really does miss Chenle.
“You didn’t eat your veggies,” Chenle says, to lighten the mood.
“You didn’t tell me to,” Jisung chuckles, the kind that’s kinda sad at the center of it.
They get into easy, safe conversations. A part of Jisung aches because it didn’t use to be like this, all awkward and guarded. Like Chenle’s scared to break him again. So Jisung does it for him.
“I missed you,” he says.
Chenle’s laugh dies in his throat for a second. He smiles, a little bit.
“I missed you too.”
“You were my best friend,” Jisung says because now that he’s started, he can’t stop.
“I still can be. We still can be. Friends,” Chenle clarifies, drawing a definitive line. A line that feels a little shaky because Chenle still wants Jisung around, too.
“I don’t,” Jisung lets out a pathetic chuckle, “I don’t think I can do that. I’m not brave enough. You were always the brave one.”
Chenle looks a little disappointed.
“I’m sorry. Not us breaking up, but the way I did it. I was… scared. You were so ready, and I felt like it wasn’t fair to you,” Chenle starts but he can’t even look Jisung in the eye, “You were the brave one.”
“For what it’s worth,” Jisung is really trying to be the bigger person here, “I could’ve waited. I know, I was hasty. But I would’ve waited for you until you were ready.”
“Exactly,” Chenle looks at him this time, “I don’t think I would’ve ever been ready. You wanted to be married , Ji. You had a future planned. And I knew, and I couldn’t truly be ready knowing with that looming over me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Chenle says, and it sounds natural because Jisung has always been unnecessarily apologetic. “It’s just… not meant to be, I guess,” Chenle says it reluctantly like he barely believes it himself.
Jisung nods. He knew what he signed up for when he started this conversation, and he knew he shouldn’t have continued it in the first place. He knows he knows that Chenle’s not going to come back to him. He knows this because he knows Chenle. He knows all his flaws, the way he thinks– that’s why when he left it was such a curveball to Jisung. He knows all this, he’s got a goddamn list, but suddenly, he forgets. The minute he sees Chenle smile, the minute he sees his eyes, Jisung forgets, like he has selective amnesia. And all he thinks about is how to see that smile again, even if it means having his heart broken all over again.
So Jisung picks up his chopsticks and pops a dumpling in his mouth. Chenle does the same, and he chews with his mouth open. Jisung forgets why he finds it infuriating in the first place. Annoying chewer, loud-mouthed, chaotic. He smiles to himself . Chenle.