Archive of Our Own

Jeno sips from his beer while grabbing a big portion of meat to put on his rice bowl. He eats a piece, the rich flavour flooding his mouth almost immediately. The air in the room is still thick due to the prior cooking and the warmth of too many bodies crammed in one space with way too much alcohol in their system. While continuing with his culinary delight, Jeno half-listens to the conversations around him.

With a long week of partials finally over, there is no other place Jeno would rather be. Even though his brain is half asleep and can’t even comprehend the conversation that’s happening around him, Jeno doesn’t mind. Listening to his friends laugh and scream is one of the best white noises he could ask for. He loves watching them having fun, including those times when he’s not participating in all of it.

Everything becomes raw silence in a second. He thinks he’s starting to fall asleep in the middle of his eating. Eyes closed and mouth slightly open, Jeno accepts his defeat against sleep, with half a rice bowl still in his hand. 

Chenle screams.

That startles him awake. 

Chopsticks fall out of his hand, and he loses all of his sleep instantly. His heart rate rises quickly, and his eyes open big and round.

“What happened?” Jeno asks, though nobody listens.

Everyone’s focus is on Jaemin, expecting something. They all look excited, though that’s not the correct word. More like ecstatic. On edge. It almost looks like Jaemin just threw a bomb, and everyone’s nervously expecting the consequences of it.

Once his ears are clear of the dreamy fog, Jeno realises the room is in complete silence. 

Until it isn’t.

“He was your boyfriend?!”

Obviously it had to be Donghyuck, ever the instigator with that mischievous grin on his face, who had to drop the second bomb. Mark laughs, followed by Yizhuo, both clearly affected by all the alcohol they had all been consuming.

Jeno looks around, still confused. He looks at Jisung’s utter state of shock, while the rest of them are either throwing unintelligible questions or laughing their asses off because of the whole situation. They're definitely way too drunk for this, and Jeno is way too confused to understand what’s the fuss about everything.

Until Donghyuck’s question finally processes in his mind.

Boyfriend?

He looks towards Jaemin, something hot flickering inside. What are they talking about?

Someone shakes his shoulder. He turns around to be received by Donghyuck—Aeri and Chenle behind him, all expecting eyes now on him.

“Did you know about it?” Donghyuck asks, with that devilish smile drawn on his face. 

Now he’s way more confused.

“Know about what?”

Chenle laughs. 

“About Jaemin’s boyfriend, idiot.”

Jaemin? With a boyfriend?

Jeno looks back to his best friend, surprised. 

He has never cared about Jaemin’s dating life; it never was a topic that sparked any conversation between them. Jeno’s sure that if he ever asked, Jaemin would’ve answered without a second thought; that’s how they worked, but he didn’t find amusement in knowing about other people’s love lives, or love in general. Love has never been his forte after all. 

But one thing was for sure, and that is that last time he checked, Jaemin was not interested in men. He was straight, like him. Or well, he just assumed he was straight and didn’t bother to ask.

“You had a boyfriend?” he repeats, disappointment seeping into his voice before he could think about it. He cringes internally because of it. He’s disappointed in what? He almost sounds jealous , but that’s impossible. Why would he ever be jealous?

Jaemin scratches the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. Jeno can swear there’s some kind of guilt in his expression, maybe in the way he avoids meeting his eyes.

“Calling him my boyfriend is an overstatement, really,” he laughs it off. “We dated for like, maybe two weeks, and then he got back with his ex because, the whole,” he creates quotation marks with his fingers, “being gay shit wasn’t his thing.”

“Being gay wasn’t your thing either, dude!” Mark says, raising an eyebrow.

“Not gay, bisexual,” Jaemin corrects, laughing. “I still like girls,” he says, matter of factly.

“Wait, you’re bisexual?!” Yizhuo chimes from the couch she’s sharing with Renjun and Jimin. She sounds more amused than anything, as if the fact didn’t surprise her at all.

Jaemin nods, like it wasn’t a big deal. It's almost as if he isn’t aware of the fire that he sparked in Jeno. "Yeah, I guess I never mentioned it. Didn’t seem important."

“I can’t believe this is the way we find out!”

Chenle laughs loudly, throwing their head back. He almost fell from the chair because of it. Donghyuck keeps his dramatic act at their side.

“You’re making such a big deal,” Jaemin chuckles. 

Most agree with the fact.

“Jaemin’s right, though. His liking girls and guys doesn’t change anything.” Minjeong adds.

"Yes, it does!”

“Really, Donghyuck?” Renjun asks with sarcasm.

“Yeah, Jeno’s now our only token cis-het friend!”

The room burst in laughter. 

It’s just a light-hearted joke, something they wouldn’t find that of a genius joke without alcohol in between, but it makes Jeno’s stomach feel like fire—searing and painful. 

He’s the only one that didn’t laugh at Donghyuck’s joke, and he knows it shouldn’t be like that. Donghyuck makes him the butt of the joke more times than everyone else, besides maybe Mark, but he doesn’t care about it; he understands he’s easy to tease. He normally laughs it off, not minding at all. He’s totally okay with it and knows for sure everyone would stop if he ever showed any kind of discontent. It was just this specific comment that didn’t sit well with him.

The voices of everyone suddenly feel like a little too much for him. His heart is pounding in his chest way too violently. He feels like dying all of a sudden.

Everyone just continues with their own conversations after the whole interruption that was Jaemin’s very underwhelming coming out, moving way too quickly for Jeno’s liking. They all didn’t seem to care at all about what just happened, as if it were something completely inconsequential. Jaemin was just laughing, full on back to normalcy. The rest were exactly the same, treating Jaemin the same way they have always treated him, as if nothing fucking changed. Don’t get Jeno wrong; he doesn’t wish for everyone to start treating Jaemin poorly or something similar; he just can't get why everything around him looks so normal when he feels like his whole world is upside down.

Jeno looks at Jaemin for a second.

He looks the same as before, with that handsome face and his smile with way too many teeth. Jaemin looks exactly the way Jeno remembers him, but something definitely changed; Jaemin looks odd in his eyes. His body doesn’t match his face as always; his hands are still the same—the way he acts, the way he talks, how he clings to Aeri the same way he clings to everyone, ever the touchy friend. He still smiles the same way as before, and he keeps holding the whole universe in those pretty dark eyes. He’s still his best friend, Jaemin Na, and Jeno can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but something is very, very different with the Jaemin he knows.

Maybe something changed long ago, but he’s just realising now. Maybe it is something that always existed but only started surfacing recently. Or maybe he’s losing his mind while almost oggling his best friend due to alcohol.

Jeno doesn’t know at all what’s happening, but he can’t take his eyes off of Jaemin. Looking at his face becomes inevitable, as if he’s just being pulled like a magnet towards him. Suddenly he remembers the past conversation, and the idea of Jaemin kissing and dating a faceless man makes Jeno want to cry.

He stands up, the alcohol in his body making him feel a little bit dizzy. He leans on the table for a few seconds, eyes on the leftover food sitting there, waiting for his brain to stop pounding in his skull. When things are relatively okay, he walks to the balcony.

He is in need of some fresh air. Everything inside became a little too much. The lights were too warm, the voices too loud, the smell of food too strong, and Jaemin was way too present.

His body leans back into the small puff Chenle always keeps outside, feeling his warm breath condensate in front of him. He just wanted to get away, not really thinking anything through when he just left in the middle of a conversation he wasn’t participating in, but now he regrets not bringing his jacket or anything to warm up. 

Guilt starts boiling right behind his lungs all of a sudden. He feels too sober for everything.

Jeno knows his friends don't mind. After years of knowing each other, they understand he sometimes feels overwhelmed by everything and needs some alone time. But the problem isn't what he did, but why he did it.

It wasn't even an out of the ordinary conversation. When all of your friend group is conformed by people that don't stick to the normal cis-het mould, talking about sexuality becomes common not out of morbidity but out of the genuine curiosity of young adults who are just trying to discover themselves. But the images that it brought to Jeno's mind were too much for his intoxicated self. 

The idea of Jaemin with a boyfriend made him so uncomfortable he couldn't bear to stand next to him any longer. Just the possibility of that ever happening created something inside of him that burns. Something that is killing him alive from the inside out.

Jeno just couldn’t keep looking at Jaemin, even if no one was forcing him to. His thoughts were—are—way too loud, and his throat was too tight to breathe correctly.

He can’t understand what’s wrong with him.

He’s very sure he isn’t homophobic. Or well, a few hours, even a few minutes ago, he would’ve been very sure of it. Now he just can’t understand himself at all . It doesn’t make any sense for him to suddenly become homophobic after his whole damn life minding his own business when it came to anyone's personal preferences.

But apparently, for some reason he couldn’t comprehend, that nonchalance ends when the conversation is about his closest friend. As if his support for any type of diversity stops before Jaemin, and Jaemin only, and then continues for the rest of the world.

It doesn't make any sense! But how else can he explain the fact that in the past, knowing Jaemin had a girlfriend didn't budge him at all, but the mere idea of him with another man makes him want to be burnt alive?

Maybe he was homophobic all along, but it wasn't a problem before. Maybe that nonchalance is a really subtle disgust that just becomes unbearable when it comes to the closest and most important person in his life.

Even if none of it is reasonable, Jeno doesn’t have any other way to explain why this unknown feeling is growing inside of him or any other reason why he knows he won’t feel happy if Jaemin ever comes to him with a boyfriend.

He's so disappointed. But above all, he can’t understand what’s happening. He was raised in a family that taught respect towards everyone indiscriminately. He knows that everyone deserves the same treatment and no one should be looked down on, so why in the world does he feel like he would never see or treat Jaemin the same way? And why Jaemin ? When he has never wronged Jeno in all their years of friendship. The so sweet, understanding, and mature Jaemin. That has never let him down; that hasn't done anything but being the best of friends, who even in the wrong tries his best to correct himself.

What is wrong with him?

A hand grabs his shoulder, flinching him out of his bizarre train of thoughts. Jeno looks up, Mark's dark eyes meeting his gaze.

“Grabbing some air?”

Mark walks to the railing, Jeno’s eyes following his every move. He takes a sip of his beer and looks at the city sky in silence while he waits for Jeno to say something.

“Yeah,” Jeno almost whispers. “Things were being a little too much.”

“I know…” Mark looks back at him, smiling. “I needed some silence, too. Yizhuo, Donghyuck, and Chenle being themselves and everything. And Jaemin's not helping. Y'know, alcohol getting through him and all.” There’s a pause. “Though in his case it's not just the alcohol.”

Jeno snickers. “Yeah, he feeds up from the rest's energy... in some way.”

Mark laughs in that unique way of him, then he gazes at Jeno again. 

Sometimes, it feels like Mark knows things he shouldn’t, as if he could read through everyone with just a look. Jeno feels like Mark’s looking at him just like that, like he knows more than Jeno’s willing to tell him.

“Is everything okay, Jeno?”

“Yeah,” he starts, way too nervous. “Yeah. Why?”

“I don't know,” Mark scratches his head awkwardly. “Call me crazy if you want. But sometimes I feel like you're not open to yourself.”

Jeno glances up from his hands; his heart seems to stop a second before continuing bombing. The wind feels colder against his skin, the temperature dropping out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

Mark looks nervous, his face not able to hide his emotions. He squeezes the can in his hand.

“Like, you don't let yourself be?” He tries to explain, but Jeno can’t quite get what. “You're always so open to everyone else, for their problems and bothers, but when it comes to you... there are things you—I don't know how to say it... But you're so strict with yourself, y'know?”

Their eyes meet, and even if Mark is trying to communicate with him, Jeno denies his attempt.

“I really don't get what you're saying, Mark.” He doesn’t want to get it. Not now.

Mark sighs and gives another sip to his can.

“I'm just telling you to let yourself be. That's all,” he rubs his biceps, though Jeno can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or cold. ”There are things that don't need to be rationalised, categorised, or even named.” Mark walks towards him and grabs his shoulder softly. “Be a little more soft on yourself. You deserve it.”

They make eye contact, and with Mark looking at him with pure hope in his eyes, Jeno really wants to believe him. He wants to believe in his words and put them into action. But he can’t. With all his horrible thoughts and how the idea of Jaemin makes him feel, he can’t do it. It’s not possible. 

Jeno smiles, defeated, and Mark’s confidence fades away.

“It's just a thought of mine, though. Not that deep, really. But think about it, okay?” Mark ruffles Jeno’s hair. It’s a sweet action. Jeno appreciates it. It makes him feel, at least, a little good with himself. It’s Mark’s unique way of telling him he trusts him and that he’s always proud of him. They share a smile before Mark walks towards the sliding glass door. “I'm getting inside; it's getting a little chilly. You sure you don't want to join?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t feel ready to face Jaemin. “But I will really appreciate it if you bring me my jacket, please.” Jeno gives the biggest puppy eyes while asking.

Mark laughs.

“In a moment.”

When he's back, he looks at Jeno with those eyes of his and smirks, passing on the jacket. A silence surrounds them, thick and awkward.

“Here you go,” Mark whispers. Then he shows his other hand. “I brought you some juice to make you company,” he leaves the glass on the floor, just beside the puff. “I'm going in.”

Jeno grabs the glass and smiles.

“Thanks, Mark.”

He leans all his weight on the puff, his body almost blending with the object. 

When Mark’s nowhere near, already back with the rest, Jeno gives himself the freedom of sighing, loud and long. His eyes look at the sky, searching for the slightest sliver of a star without success. Maybe is some kind of sign, even if he never really believed in that stuff. As if the glow of a single star would sort out all the questions that are forming in his mind. A conversation between the wildfire that he’s becoming from the inside and something that shines brighter than he ever will. Maybe it’ll know what to do with all the heat and teach him how to live with the burn that’s spreading under his skin.

Maybe the stars will tell him what he should do.

Because Jeno doesn’t have a single idea on how to face Jaemin. He doesn’t even know what to do with the feelings that are exploding painfully inside him. How is he supposed to live from now on, and what path is he presumed to follow? For fucks sake, Jaemin and him are literally roommates ; they see each other every single day, and he doesn’t even know if he could ever look at him in the eyes again.

He feels guilty and horrible. He doesn’t know how else to feel towards himself right now. Jeno just wants to hide away; he just wants to cry. 

What else is he supposed to do?

When Minjeong is looking at him like that from her seat at the cafeteria.

How else is he supposed to think?

She doesn’t ask anything; she just looks at Jeno with those piercing eyes of hers. She looks worried— disappointed —but doesn’t say it. Minjeong doesn’t even try to ask what’s wrong; she knows Jeno better than that. She knows he will not tell. So she keeps eating her lunch.

But she doesn’t talk. And just by that, Jeno knows that something’s wrong. 

She knows. She’s worried. And Jeno doesn’t want that. So he just acts like nothing’s wrong. Because if he ignores the fire, maybe Minjeong will stop looking at him with those pitiful eyes. Nothing’s wrong. He tries to express. You don’t need to worry about it.

Minjeong stands up from her seat, grabbing her tray.

“Just know I’m here if you need to talk,” she says as a goodbye.

Jeno’s thankful, but he doesn’t need it. Everything’s under control. He has it under control.

Even if for the moment his only solution for his recent problem is moving to a deserted place and catching himself on fire, neither of which is realistic or even close to a solution . And he can’t even look Jaemin in the eyes without feeling guilty. He knows that things are okay.

At least he likes to pretend they are.

They will eventually. The fire needs to die down at some point. Things can’t be going forever.

His brain can’t be like this forever. Thoughts behind thoughts—non-stopping, all-consuming, never enough. Almost as his brain wants to tell him something he can’t catch quite yet, something he needs to understand but doesn’t want to. 

He doesn’t understand; he can’t . With his mind never resting and him unable to catch a break, he hadn’t had the time to take a deep breath and reorganise his thoughts. To take in the mess and understand why the fire started in the first place. It was suffocating and tiring. Jeno only wants it to finally stop.

But the world will not stop for him.

Even if he wants to give up or catch a break. Or if he just wants to lay down and cry for a while. He can’t do that. There’s no time. 

The week after partials is normally more calm. But not for him. Not when he’s taking a double major. He needs to study. Jeno doesn’t have time to understand what is boiling inside of him.

It’s not important either way. There are things he should be focussing on more. Like his academic life. He can’t let his grades down. Not for some stupid feelings. 

If he can’t understand it, it’s not a priority. Maybe he’ll have time for that on holidays.

For now, on a Thursday night, he could really use some studying in the solitude of his desk. Even if he isn’t having any kind of exam anywhere soon, a day of studying often helps to keep Jeno productive. If he only focusses on the numbers in his notebook, he doesn’t have to think about anything unnecessary or Jaemin- related for at least a couple of hours.

It was a good way of avoiding the fact the flames were eating him from the inside.

Though it wasn’t really working. 

It worked for a while; he was even having a little fun with integrals. But now the numbers are blurring into indistinct forms as his mind wanders back to the burn , to the trivial things that shouldn’t matter.

Across the room, Jaemin’s sprawled on his bed, eyes glued to his phone. He arrived like an hour ago after his last class, since then doing the same thing. Jeno can almost taste the weight of Jaemin’s silence in his tongue; it tastes oppressive and kind of awkward. Like it never had before. They hadn’t talked much since last Friday—Jeno avoiding Jaemin’s presence like it burns his skin. It is obvious that Jaemin knows something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push it further; he doesn’t ask about it, at least not directly.

He’s patient like that. Always waiting for Jeno.

“Hey, you good?” Jaemin asks. Jeno doesn’t know how many times he has heard that same question this last week, especially from him. But Jaemin’s trying to understand something even he can’t put a finger on. It burns too much for him to get closer, and it’s not important.

“Yeah, just... tired.” His response is automatic, his eyes still fixed on the notebook. But tired wasn’t the right word. Nervous, could be. Uneasy. Something closer to the truth, but he will not admit that.

Jaemin looks at him unimpressed; Jeno knows it even if he’s not watching. His posture changes, and the gap between them feels oddly smaller, more tight, making Jeno unable to hide himself from Jaemin’s eyes.

“Was it something that I said?” Jaemin asks cautiously. It feels like he’s giving his all to not scare him away, almost as if he’s afraid Jeno would run away.

But the question sparks the opposite effect on Jeno. He looks wide-eyed at the wall in front of him, not understanding how Jaemin nailed so close to the truth in the first “real” conversation they had the whole week. Was he that easy to read? What made it so obvious?

Does Jaemin know what’s happening to him?

“No, no. I’m fine,” he says, before his silence gives him away even more.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’ve been kinda off lately.”

“It’s nothing really. It’s just… I kind of flopped in calculus, and I feel like I should study more.”

It’s a blatant lie. Jaemin only needs a quick glance over his grades to tell. Not even. His best friend knows he does well in every math course since high school.

“Right,” Jaemin doesn’t sound convinced at all, but he doesn’t push. He never did, and that is part of the problem. He is too understanding, too nice. And Jeno is the one who is so horrible of a person that is unable to feel normal around Jaemin. Because just his existence alights feelings that hurt, burn, and destroy.

Jaemin doesn’t say more, and his silence hurt more than Jeno could ever expect. Because this is not them. How did everything change so much in just a week?

His pain sparks in a fire, choking him on the smoke, not letting him breathe. His whole body catches on it, and everything is too much; it had been too much. He wants to cry and scream. He wants to run away and hide. 

But he can’t do that. Not now. Not in front of Jaemin. Even if his chest hurts and his throat is tight.

Things can’t be like this.

He stands up way too quickly and almost runs to the bathroom. He closes the door too loud, too fast. Obviously Jaemin knows that something is wrong. Jeno sits on the toilet, closing his eyes. He will not cry, not over this.

It’s not that serious.

Mark’s words suddenly surface in his brain.

“Be a little more soft on yourself. You deserve it.”

But is that even possible? Even if his heart is on fire, an open flame ready to eat it all, Jeno feels like everything is just an exaggeration of his mind. Things are simple, supposed to be simple. How could he be soft on himself when everything that’s happening is his sole and only fault? Letting himself be is stupid—it’s like leading the path to a flame that only destroys everything.

He doesn’t need to be soft. He can’t be. 

If he just lets things be, everything will be worse. He would not be in control of things. Even if now things are a little disastrous, Jeno knows he has a little control over them. He can’t even imagine, if he just lets it be, how everything will fall down under his touch.

Jeno understands from where Mark is talking. He really understands. But now is not the moment to be soft . He simply can’t risk it going downhill even more.

“You look tired, Jeno.”

Jeno looks up from his coffee and locks his eyes at his friend; a question gets stuck in his throat before he understands what Renjun even said. His mind had been running wild a little too often lately, detaching him from reality more often than not. Good thing Renjun is there to snap him out of it.

“Yeah, I am.” 

He really is tired. Too tired for something so insignificant. He had been considering taking his old medications to sleep for a few days now, but things hadn’t reached that far yet. Though that could really be what puts him back on track.

“Jaem also told me you’re less talkative than usual.” That name grabs his attention immediately. Kind of pathetic if you ask him, but he really misses his best friend despite seeing him every day. Though it also makes him realise that his friends talk about him. They are worried. “Everything okay?”

The question almost makes him sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers automatically. “Just... tired.”

More than just that, something deeper. But he doesn’t want to know about it.

“Y’know you can talk to us, right?” Renjun looks at him the same way that Minjeong did. He’s starting to get a little fed up by that almost pitiful expression they give him. He’s not hurt—he’s not a helpless little creature. He can do things on his own, and that look makes him feel stupid. 

“I know.”

He would talk about it if there was really something to talk about in the first place. But his thoughts are so tied together that it is impossible to understand anything. He can’t even put all this stuff into words that he can understand. How would he put it in a way the rest will?

“Don’t be harsh on yourself, Jen. You already do too much.”

And there it is again.

If he did as much as everyone proclaimed he did, he wouldn’t be in a situation like this. Because he would have everything perfectly organised under his control. And it’s not. His life is getting out of hand, and he’s not sure what he should do or how to correct it. Jeno is in a place where he’s not even sure if he knows anything in the first place. He’s starting to get desesperate, and he yet doesn’t have a solution that could turn off everything that’s happening inside him.

He looks for something. But there’s nothing that could help him. Just fire. He’s just standing in the flames, and it doesn’t matter where he turns, because they will still be there, surrounding him. The only thing Jeno could do is to embrace the fact that they may never go away.

"I am okay, really," he says, sounding far more irritated than he meant to. He regrets opening his mouth immediately.

Renjun watches him for a second, concern flickering in his eyes, but doesn’t go on. Jeno goes back to looking at his coffee as it slowly gets colder. He’ll probably just end up throwing it away anyway, so he doesn’t even pretend to drink it. For what? Renjun already knows there’s something off. They all do.

And his theory just confirms itself, time and time again.

Because why would they not ask the same stupid question? Like they’ve been fucking programmed to do so. Because if not, why would Donghyuck be texting him, asking if everything’s okay, when Donghyuck never texts him? Or why would Mark be so insistent on talking things out, even if he had refused every one of his offers?

Even Aeri had looked at him with those pitiful eyes when they went out one night and told him she’s there if he ever needed something.

This time, Jeno just chose to accompany Jisung for a walk to the train station. Out of worry, more than anything, but also because Renjun couldn’t do it this time around. 

They don’t talk. When they’re just the two of them, they usually don’t. Conversation with Jisung most of the time feels too awkward—the younger always looks scared of everyone and everything. So Jeno doesn’t try; he likes silent company, maybe a little more than when they don’t shut up. Especially these days, as everyone is always asking the same stupid question.

Jisung looks at him like a deer in the headlights, then lowers his head again.

“Jeno,” he says almost too quietly. The so-called just hums at him. “Is everything alright?”

Jeno turns his head way too quickly, surprised, but above all, annoyed. Jisung never talks to him when they’re alone, but he decides to speak just to ask that. He expected it from everyone but him.

But he doesn’t want to fight, so he just shrugs and gives Jisung the driest response.

“Just tired.”

Jisung nods, almost sensing that Jeno doesn’t want to talk.

And he really doesn’t.

Jeno’s tired of it. He’s overall fine. Things hadn’t been worse than before—the only thing is that he’s growing slowly more annoyed by the same question. They should just shut up and leave him alone, because this thing they’re trying to orchestrate is not working and he’s starting to get sick.

Just because they ask, the fire is not going to dissipate—just because they’re worried things are not going to get better. So why don’t they just shut up and leave him alone?

That’s all he asks for. He wants to be in peace.

He hasn’t slept well in a while, his mind working overnight, never shutting off. He’s tired, on the verge, and so fucking confused. He has grown used to the constant burn under his skin—even if it makes everything hurt like a bitch. Everyone started being annoying to interact with, so even if he had people around, Jeno decided to isolate himself. All his friends noticed, but Jeno doesn’t really fucking care. He only wants one thing, and that is for everything to stop.

They were just supposed to meet up for some studying. Chenle needed some help in a class they had in common, and Minjeong just tagged along. But it didn’t take long for the tension to creep in. Jeno can feel it, burning under his skin. Every word that came out of Chenle’s mouth grated on his nerves, even though it wasn’t anything new.

“You really need to take a rest, Jeno.” Chenle looks at him with confusing emotions dancing in his eyes. But there it is again: pity.

Jeno sighed, putting his pen down. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” Chenle asks.

“Push. You’re always pushing,” his voice was tight, as if the fire would spit out with his words.

Minjeong frowns. “We’re just worried about you. He’s not—”

“It is pushing, though,” Jeno cuts her off, standing up suddenly. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? There’s nothing to talk about.”

She stares up, taken back, disappointed. “Jeno, we’re just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t,” Jeno snaps, his voice too loud. He feels more eyes looking at him, the place getting quieter. He feels the urge to run away, so he just starts packing his stuff.

Chenle looks tired, but anger sips in his voice when they speak. “You’re shutting us out,” his voice rises up with frustration. “Why don’t you just admit something’s wrong instead of acting like we’re the problem for noticing?”

Jeno clenches his fist around the straps of his bag, his heart pounding in his ears. "Well, you’re making it a problem when there’s nothing wrong! So just—drop it, will you?”

Chenle blinks, hurt flashing in his eyes, and that’s worse than the anger left behind. “Fine, but get a grip on yourself,” they say, sitting down. “You can’t just go around treating everyone like shit.”

The silence that follows feels suffocating. Jeno doesn’t have a response to that. He didn’t know he was treating people like that. So he turns on his heel and walks out of the place, leaving them behind, his heart burning with a mix of guilt and confusion.

Jeno arrives at the department feeling distraught. Everything feels suffocatingly still, the silence pressing him down like a physical force. The chaos in his mind takes the form of a roaring wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He paces in the small living room, each step heavy with the weight of regret. His heart feels like a furnace, flames searing through his chest with every beat.

He couldn’t find solace anywhere, his body just failing him with every step. The heat inside him grows unstoppable, the fire raging uncontrollably. His breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps, everyone feeling like he is breathing on scalding air. The walls feel too close in, the room shrinking as the temperature rises, making it feel like he’s in an inferno.

His mind is just a tumultuous storm of memories and self-loathing, each thought a spark that ignites a new fire. He ignored everything that was happening to him because he couldn’t understand it. He didn’t let himself be so as to not affect the rest with his problems. But it backfired, the fire that started in his heart just spreading out of his body, out of his control. He remembers Minjeong’s hurt face, Chenle’s disappointment, and Renjun’s worry. Every moment is so vivid, so real, like he’s living them all again at the same time, fuelling the flames at the edge of his sanity.

None of them were responsible for his emotions—they didn’t owe him anything. The fact that he couldn’t control or understand them was anyone's fault but his; he knew that. So why did he treat them so poorly? When they didn’t do anything more than caring about him.

Jeno’s vision begins to blur, the room swimming in a haze of heat and swirling colours. His chest tightens, each breath short and painful. The air seems to grow thicker, hotter, almost impossible to breathe. He clenches his hands into fists, nails digging in his palms, but the physical pain was a small distraction to the burning agony in his lungs and his mind. His body feels so out of him—he’s not himself anymore.

The pressure in his head is like a raging bonfire, crackling with every thought that blazes through his mind. He tries to calm himself down to extinguish the flames of his racing thoughts, but it’s like trying to put out a fire with a single bucket of water. Every attempt to focus, to breathe, only seems to add fuel to the fire. Tears start falling down his face—he can’t control his body. It’s not his; nothing is. Everything is blurry and out of focus, and his brain goes back to the past few weeks. To his feelings and every single thought that couldn’t be named. Jeno, is that even his name, grabs his chest without controlling his strength. It hurts; everything hurts so much. He wants it to stop.

His entire body trembles, the heat making him sweat. He gasps for air, the feeling of suffocation narrowing his vision. The exhaustion is overwhelming—a crushing weight that makes him feel he’s falling to the flames, unable to escape.

Jeno falls to the floor, his head resting against his arms, trying to golf on the small shred of control that’s left. But the fire inside was relentless, a searing blaze that leaves him feeling raw and exposed. His world had transformed into a hell of roaring fire and heat, and he was powerless to stop it.

The flames burn brighter, hotter, until everything outside his suffering fades into nothingness. He wants to die. He wants the fire to finally eat him whole; he can’t keep living in this limbo. As there’s slowly nothing to burn, his flesh will eventually stop burning. Until there’s nothing left of him—no flesh or bones, just the remaining ashes—that will be his only memory.

His breaths come in burst, each inhaling a desperate plea for relief that never arrives. The fire rages on, and Jeno is caught in the inferno of his own making. He wants it to end. For him to be free. Because it hurts. His skin is not his, alive in flames, just making him burn. He’s not him. As he curls into himself, he accepts that he lost himself. There’s nothing left of Jeno Lee.

He’s lost in a fiery chaos, unable to escape on his own.

The sudden sound of a door opening brings a sliver of reality to the edge of his consciousness. Jeno barely registers when someone kneels next to him, the flames still raging out of control. His foggy mind captures some unintelligible voice within the fire.

“Jeno?” The voice cuts through the heat, steady and calm. Arms surround his trembling body.

Jeno opens his eyes and sees Jaemin so close to him, his vision still hazy and distorted, but he knows that he’s here. He sobs. “It’s too much... Make it, make it stop.”

Jaemin’s arms tighten around him, hugging him completely. Jeno hugs almost by instinct, the pressure feeling oddly comfortable and safe.

“Jeno, listen to me,” he whispers. “I need you to focus on my voice, okay?” His voice is gentle and soft. “I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

“It burns,” Jeno manages, voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he sobs.

Jaemin nods. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I’m not mad.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I know. It will be okay.”

Will it?

Every time they asked, he always answered he was okay—that he’s fine. Because he’s always fine, even when he’s hurting. That’s how it works. Everyone answers the same; no matter the context, everyone’s fine all the time. And so is Jeno.

He is really okay. Jeno’s sure about it.

So he grabs Jaemin’s hoodie with a strong grip, hides his face on the crook of Jaemin’s neck, and shooks his head, sobbing, whispering soft ‘no’s.

Because he’s not okay. This is not okay.

But Jaemin continues on speaking softly. “It’s not okay?” Jeno shakes his head. “That’s fine, Jeno... Now focus on my voice. Let’s try slowing your breathing first. Inhale slowly through your nose, hold it for a moment, and then exhale from your mouth. You can do it.”

Jeno tries following the instructions, his breaths coming in uneven gasps. The act of focussing on Jaemin’s voice as he counts for him and following that rhythm to breathe begins to cut through the suffocating heat. Slowly, the fire inside him starts to die down, the flames losing some of their ferocity.

Jaemin doesn’t let go of Jeno, his hug a reassuring presence. "You've gone through a lot, and it’s okay. But you don’t have to face it alone.”

As the minutes pass, Jeno’s breathing begins to stabilise, the fire inside him slowly subsiding to something manageable, less painful. Jeno feels the weight of his guilt beginning to lift, if only slightly. Jaemin lets go when Jeno pushes a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to…”

Jaemin shakes his head, a reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No need to apologise. We all make mistakes, Jeno. We just have to fix them.”

Jeno takes a deep breath, the air feeling less oppressive. He looks at Jaemin, eyes red and puffy, but a spark of gratitude in the exhaustion.

“Thank you, Jaemin.”

His best friend’s expression softens further, and he gives Jeno’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. That’s what friends are for. Just remember I’m here.”

Jeno nods slowly, the lingering heat inside him now a simmering ember rather than a raging wildfire. He allows himself to lean into Jaemin’s offering hand, a glimmer of relief amidst the lingering heat.

When he finally lays down on his bed, the exhaustion spreading through his limbs, he lets himself to think just a little bit.

Jaemin’s words were a relief, but at the same time, there was something in them that his brain didn’t like. It was a word—a simple word—that ruined it for him. 

Friend.

What about that could cause such a negative reaction from him? He is Jaemin’s friend after all.

His heart pounds, and almost in his slumber, he questions himself one thing.

What are his feelings towards his best friend?

They’re having breakfast the next morning. Some leftovers and a bowl of rice. Jeno’s playing with his chopsticks while he thinks. He really slept well, better than he has in a few weeks, but there’s a question in his head he can’t get out. He looks up to Jaemin and considers it.

He decides on it.

“Jaemin, can I ask you something?”

Jaemin looks at him through his long eyelashes. “Of course. Anything.”

Jeno contemplates for a while, trying to find the correct words. But there’s none, so he just asks straight on.

“How did you realise you liked men?”

“Oh!” Jaemin laughs, almost choking on his food. He scratches the back of his head, thinking. There’s silence for a while, where Jaemin’s eyes lock with Jeno’s and he smiles awkwardly. “It was on our last year of high school. One night, after a full day on the PC café, I was thinking about the fun we had, and... it just clicked.” Jaemin covers his mouth with his free hand, his cheeks turning red.

Jeno’s surprised. Was it really that easy?

He glances at his best friend with a curious look, not understanding how it clicked for him. Jaemin just avoids his eyes, his blush spreading to his ears.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughs.

“What made you realise?”

Jaemin sighs, shy.

“Do you really want me to say it out loud?” His tone is painted with incredulity.

But Jeno can’t understand. What is he missing?

“Well… I realised I liked you more than a friend should.” Jeno listens, too attentively for Jaemin’s liking. “It was simple for me, but it isn’t for everyone.” There’s a pause. Jaemin opens his eyes, alarmed. “But don’t worry about it. You’re a very dear friend to me, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

Jeno stills, his brain finally processing what his best friend meant, the reason behind his nervousness. A warmth spreads in his body and arrives at his cheeks, tinting them red. His eyes flutter, and he suddenly starts feeling shy— too shy.

Jaemin liked him. He was Jaemin’s bisexual awakening. 

Something sparks in Jeno, the warmth creating something under his skin. But this time instead of a wildfire, it feels softer, like a firework. It still kind of heats up his body, it’s still something Jeno can’t comprehend for the life of him, but it’s okay. He knows it now. Looking at Jaemin, their hands intertwining on the table. He realises that maybe taking a little bit of time to understand himself—to let himself be—isn't that bad after all.

Jaemin uses his other hand to brush Jeno’s hair out of his face.

“It’s been a long time since something like yesterday happened, Jeno,” his voice drops back to a whisper. He’s cautious, and that makes Jeno feel safe. “Do you want to talk about it?

Yes. He wants to. But maybe not now. He needs a little time for himself, he needs to think about everything. He realises it now. His feelings need time to develop and room to grow. They need attention, even if giving it will be hard for Jeno. He may even have to talk to someone. Not Jaemin, though, he can’t trust Jaemin this time around.

His grip on Jaemin’s hand tightens, and his best friend just looks at him with a smile.

“It’s okay,” Jaemin says.

That’s what he needs: patience. But not from Jaemin, but from himself. He just needs a little push in the right direction. He needs help.

And the first step to doing so is accepting the truth.

“No, it’s not.” Jaemin looks at him, surprised, but there’s pride in his look. That wraps Jeno in a soft heat. “But that’s okay.”

He can feel bad. Even though he accepts it, the journey to embracing this part of him is just starting, and it’s going to be hard. Good thing he has Jaemin and his friends to be there for him.

It is okay to ask for help. Even if it’s hard. He’s the one that needs to give the first step. It didn’t matter what it was.

Like a simple message.

He sends it before second-guessing himself and looks directly to the person he wrote it to. Chenle opens his phone when it vibrates on his pants and looks at Jeno’s direction after it. Their expression is hard to read, but the nod Chenle gives is the only thing Jeno needs to be a little more patient.

After the class ends, they walk side by side around campus. Their steps are slow, unhurried, but the tension between them is palpable. Jeno shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground as they pass groups of students. He had been waiting for the right moment to say something, to break the silence. But he quickly learns that there’s not a right time for things, just the time you decide on doing it. 

Jeno looks up at the cloudy day and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. He doesn’t dare look Chenle in the eyes, afraid of what he can find.

Chenle doesn’t stop walking, but he glances at him, smirking. 

“I know you are.” There’s no anger in his voice, like he had been waiting for this moment too.

“Can you forgive me?” he asks nervously.

They walk in silence for a few more steps before Chenle speaks again.

“Of course I can,” he says gently. “I know you weren’t feeling good, we all knew. But it was upsetting, Jeno.” They pause, his voice growing a little sharper, hurt. “That you didn’t talk to us about it, that you really believed all of this was working,” they laugh. “That because you thought everything was fine, you ended up losing yourself.”

Jeno winces, their word hitting harder than he expected. He nods, feeling lighter, less tense.

“Thanks, Chenle,” he murmurs, full of gratitude.

Chenle’s expression softens again, and he gives Jeno a tap on the back.

“No worries, dude,” he says with a shrug, their tone light as always, with mischievous sprinkle in it. 

There’s silence for a while, but this time around, it’s not tense, as everything related to that day fades away. It gives Jeno time to think. Of course there are things he has yet to do, like apologise to Minjeong. But it relieves him to think that it really was that simple, he just didn’t want to try it in the first place. He wants to laughmaniacally. He was so attached to the idea of him being some specific way that he totally forgot about the fact that maybe he wasn’t what he thought. But after everything, he realises one thing: It’s okay to keep looking for himself, he’s still learning after all.

They sit on a bench and look as other students pass by, heading to their next classes. Sometimes the world is like that—fast and unpredictable. Jeno is just happy that he can sit down from time to time with the company of a friend. The silence there isn’t uncomfortable, but it is heavy, filled with words that Jeno’s still figuring out how to say. Chenle already accepted his apology, but there’s something deeper that Jeno needs to face. A little voice that had been gnawing at him since everything spiralled out of control.

He glances to his side and takes a shaky breath.

“Is it alright if I liked men?” Jeno blurts. His voice trembles just a little bit, but it’s enough to tell how vulnerable he feels.

Chenle laughs, but it’s not a mean one, it’s genuine. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Jeno shrugs. “I don’t know. It feels weird.”

"Weird how?” Chenle asks, their tone gentle.

Jeno shifts on the bench, a familiar burn of discomfort rising in his chest. “Like it’s not something I should be feeling. Like... it’s wrong. But just for me.”

“You’ve spent a long time convincing yourself of that, haven’t you?”

Jeno lets out a bitter laugh. “Something like that.”

“You have to try to find out, I guess,” Chenle says, crossing his arms casually, like they were just discussing some class assignment. But his tone was sincere, steady, giving Jeno space to breathe. 

He swallows, throat dry. “And if I don’t like it?”

Chenle smiles softly. “No one would blame you. Discovering yourself isn’t a straight line, y’know? It’s about failing one too many times and a little of winning. No one gets it right every single time.”

Jeno glances at Chenle with bright eyes, it settling on him like a weight being lifted from his shoulders.

That’s right.

Being wrong is right in its own way, too.

As time passes, Jaemin and him grow close again. They start hanging out more and talking about anything and everything until sunrise. Their relationship, in some way, feels tighter. And their link just becomes deeper, more unbreakable.

Things change between them. And Jeno is open to that change.

He doesn’t realise when it started, but the way Jaemin’s laugh echoes in the air has begun to linger in his thoughts. It wasn’t just the sound, but the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, how his long eyelashes fram the sparkle in his gaze. There is something magnetic about it that made Jeno’s chest tighten ever so slightly, a feeling he’s been too scared to name. The subtle brush of their hand, the way their arms occasionally touch when they sit too close—each of these moments feels like a spark igniting just beneath his skiing. It’s like the beginnings of a small flame, but Jeno doesn’t pull away from it anymore.

He doesn’t know what this means; he doesn't know if this feeling is an answer or more questions. But he finds himself constantly craving that little burn, especially when Jaemin casually grips his thigh in conversation or when their eyes meet for just a second too long. The heat is different now, gentler, like a newly formed star glowing softly in the darkness. He started liking the tingling feeling. 

Jeno looks at Jaemin, the warmth invading him immediately. They are on those easy afternoons where they just put music on the speakers and talk for hours with the company of a greasy takeout meal. One of his legs is lying on Jaemin’s thighs, one of Jaemin’s hands grabbing it softly. His best friend is talking about some random topic about his art history course, but Jeno lost the line of discussion a while ago now, just focussing on Jaemin. His exaggerated expressions and the way his mouth moves with each syllable. How his lips form a pout when talking and the soft glimmer in his eyes.

He hasn’t really come to the term of who he really is. But after talking to Chenle and having to listen to a rant by Renjun, he understood that it wasn’t really necessary to reach that point soon. Just like Mark said, he didn’t have to name it. It just feels like something new, something alive, and maybe—just maybe—he can learn to let it grow.

Because if that soft and comforting burn, that spark in his heart, is what everyone else defines as love, maybe he is in love with Jaemin—had for a long time without realising.

Jaemin looks at him, his eyes glimmering in excitement, and both their smiles just grow bigger, more sincere.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he whispers before he could stop himself.

Jeno wasn’t sure when the thought first crept in, maybe it had been there, quiet beneath everything else. But now, in the stillness, it rose to the surface.

Jaemin freezes in the middle of his speech, his grip on his thigh growing stronger. The silence that follows feels like forever, the music suddenly goes too far as Jeno’s heart begins to pound in his chest. His cheeks flush, and embarrassment floods over him. The burn returns, hotter than expected, making him wish he could take words back or catch on fire entirely. 

Jaemin turns his head slowly, his expression unreadable. Jeno swallows hard, his stomach churning, and he looks down at his lap, his face burning. What the hell was he thinking?

The silence grows along with the heat inside, the second dragging, his body hurting. His thoughts are a mess of regret and panic. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

Just as he’s about to take his leg out of Jaemin's lap out of pure shame, he feels a gentle touch under his chin. Jaemin’s hand, firm but careful, tilts his head upward, forcing him to meet his gaze. Jeno’s breath catches in his throat. Jaemin is smiling at him with way too many teeth, his surprise is gone. His gaze drifts down, and Jeno imitates him right after.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jaemin asks, his voice low, lips so close that their breaths mingle.

Jeno’s heart is racing, but for the first time, it isn’t from fear or panic. It was something else—an excitement, a warmth that spread through his chest. His mouth feels sandy.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

Jaemin doesn’t hesitate. He closes the distance between them, pulling Jeno’s body towards himself. The kiss is slow, tender, and achingly real. It isn’t perfect, but it’s theirs, and that’s enough to ground Jeno. It feels safe, something he could lean into without fear of getting consumed.

They pull apart just enough to breathe, and Jeno catches himself smiling.

Jaemin’s thumb brushes against his jaw, 

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Jeno nods. The fire inside him is no longer something to fight, he can embrace it now. The uncertainty, the doubt—it doesn’t matter, all that matter was this moment. The closeness between them and the quiet promise that whatever comes next, they’ll face it together. Jeno leans on Jaemin, cuddling.

For the first time in a long while, he feels at peace.