Chapter Text
Renjun never meant for it to become a routine.
But somehow, over the next few weeks, it happened. Study sessions that bled into dusk, lingering after shifts at Café Dream until the sky dimmed and the city lights blinked awake. Jaemin would show up casually — always when Renjun was working, always with that soft, easy smile that made Renjun’s pulse skip like a scratched vinyl. Sometimes he brought his laptop, headphones around his neck, and Renjun, wiping counters, would pause when Jaemin offered an earbud. “Tell me what mood this gives off,” he’d say, eyes expectant. Renjun would press the bud in, the melody curling through him like smoke. “Melancholy,” he’d say. “But like… hopeful. Like walking alone through snow with warm socks on.” Jaemin would grin, boyish and genuine, and Renjun would feel seen in the kind of way that made his chest ache in quiet bursts.
They weren’t close. Not really.
But they were getting there.
He started noticing the way Jaemin listened — not with the absent-minded nods most people gave, but with this total, whole-body attention. Like Renjun’s words were poetry, not psych notes or dumb observations about customers who asked for “an iced hot latte.” Sometimes Jaemin would laugh so hard he’d nearly choke on his drink, and Renjun would feel like the sun was spilling from inside him.
***
The café buzzed with post-class chatter and low music from the overhead speakers. Renjun was wiping down a table when Jaemin strolled in, hoodie pulled up, curls falling into his eyes.
“Hey,” Jaemin said, smiling as he slid into his usual spot.
Renjun didn’t let himself look too long. “Rough day?”
Jaemin sighed. “Jeno made me listen to the same bass loop for an hour. I’m pretty sure I’ve developed trauma.”
Renjun laughed as he walked behind the counter. “Want your usual?”
“Please. And if you have any mercy left, make it sweet.”
As Renjun prepped the drink, Jisung leaned over from the espresso machine, voice low but teasing.
“So... is that him?”
Renjun froze mid-syrup pump. “What?”
Jisung raised an eyebrow. “Drum boy. Pretty jaw. Sad eyes. The one you write tragic poetry about in your notes.”
“I do not—”
“Bro, I found a doodle labeled 'Jaemin’s stupid hands' next to your psych flashcards. Don’t test me.”
Renjun smacked him lightly with a towel. “Mind your business.”
“I am your business. We’re co-baristas. Bound by law to mock each other.”
He leaned in. “He is cute though. Ten out of ten. Good taste.”
Renjun shoved him away just as Jaemin waved for him. “I hate you,” he muttered.
Jisung just grinned. “Love you too. Go flirt with drum boy.”
***
The place had cleared out, soft jazz playing in the background. Jaemin was still at the window, sipping his drink, eyes scanning something on his laptop. Renjun brought over a tray with two leftover cookies.
“On the house,” he said casually, placing it down.
Jaemin looked up, face lighting with that warm, slightly shy smile that made Renjun’s stomach twist. “You’re spoiling me.”
“You keep coming back,” Renjun said, sitting across from him. “Figured I’d bribe you to stay.”
Jaemin tilted his head, thoughtful. “Would’ve stayed anyway.”
And Renjun… didn’t know what to do with that. So he broke the cookie in half and stuffed it in his mouth.
***
Renjun and Jaemin sat on the steps, half-pretending to study, half-sharing sips of iced coffee. The sun was warm, the breeze soft, and Renjun was dangerously close to forgetting his social anxiety. Then—
“Wow,” Haechan said loudly as he walked up, squinting at them. “So this is what academic flirting looks like.”
Renjun looked up, already regretting his life. “Go away.”
“Oh no, I’m staying for this,” Haechan said, plopping down beside them uninvited. “I’m just saying, it’s cute. You and Jaemin, study buddies. Big development.”
Jaemin smiled, lounging back on his elbows. “Is it?”
Haechan grinned, turning to him. “Renjun used to think you were so mysterious.”
Renjun choked on his drink. “No I didn’t.”
“‘He gives off tragic indie movie energy,’” Haechan mimicked dramatically, clutching his chest like a lovesick poet.
“I never said that,” Renjun deadpanned.
“Okay maybe not those exact words,” Haechan shrugged. “But you totally had a thing. You’d go all quiet whenever he came into the café.”
Jaemin tilted his head at Renjun, amused. “Oh?”
Renjun glared at Haechan. “You’re misremembering. You make things up. You’re a known liar.”
Haechan gasped. “Excuse you. I am a historian.”
“A menace,” Renjun corrected.
Jaemin was trying not to laugh. “I kind of like the tragic indie movie thing. I’ll take it.”
Renjun covered his face with one hand. “God. Kill me.”
“I’m just saying,” Haechan leaned in with a smug smile. “It’s beautiful watching your crush slowly become your study partner. Feels like a K-drama prequel.”
Renjun, without looking up: “I’m going to report you to HR.”
“There is no HR.”
“I am HR.”
Jaemin leaned a little closer to Renjun, smile playing at his lips. “So… tragic indie movie, huh?”
Renjun sighed deeply. “Please stop talking.”
***
And then there were the days that felt a little less warm. When Jaemin’s phone buzzed more often, and he’d tilt it toward his chest before answering, thumb flying, smiling to himself. Renjun noticed, but he said nothing. He told himself not to care. He absolutely did.
***
The shift happened quietly — a Wednesday afternoon, sunlight flickering through the trees as they sat outside the music building. Jaemin was hunched over his sketchbook, pencil tapping against the page as he scribbled out drum patterns, mouthing rhythms under his breath. Renjun watched him with the kind of attention he didn’t offer to many things — like Jaemin’s little habits were something worth memorizing.
“This is your process?” Renjun asked, sipping the iced Americano Jaemin had insisted on buying him.
Jaemin glanced up, grinning. “Messy, right?”
Renjun smiled back, a little too full of something he didn’t want to name. “I like it.”
Then Jaemin’s phone buzzed. Once. Again. A third time.
He picked it up with a sigh, tapping out a reply, and for a second — just a second — Renjun saw it. That smile. Small and private, tucked into the corner of Jaemin’s mouth like a secret.
Renjun looked down at his drink, throat tight. “Everything okay?”
Jaemin barely looked up. “Yeah. Just—someone I’ve been seeing.”
The world shifted. Not in a dramatic, thunder-cracking way. Just a soft tilt, like something gentle slipping out of place.
“Oh,” Renjun said, carefully. “That’s… cool.”
Jaemin leaned back on his elbows, relaxed. “Yeah, it’s new. Kind of came out of nowhere.”
Renjun nodded, trying to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat. “Hope it goes well.”
He meant it. Sort of. Mostly.
The conversation moved on — they laughed about a professor, talked about a new album Jaemin liked — but Renjun wasn’t there anymore. Not really. He was sitting beside him and smiling in all the right places, but inside he was quietly crumbling, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to figure out how he’d been so stupid.
Because hadn’t there been something?
The coffee runs. The late-night calls. The way Jaemin looked at him sometimes like there was more to say but didn’t. The way Renjun caught himself smiling at texts, thinking maybe — maybe — it wasn’t all in his head.
But it was, wasn’t it?
Later, walking home alone, he kept replaying the moment — searching for where he’d gone wrong, where he’d let himself believe this quiet, slow-building thing was mutual. That maybe Jaemin was holding off for a reason. That maybe he was just scared.
Turns out, he just wasn’t looking at Renjun that way at all.
And somehow, that hurt worse than anything Renjun had prepared for.
***
It was a few days later when Jaemin invited him out — movie night, popcorn, the usual crew: Haechan, Mark, Jeno… and her. Karina.
Renjun showed up anyway.
They met at Haechan’s apartment, where Mark was already arguing over film choices and Jeno had claimed the entire couch like it was his divine right. The room smelled like butter, cheap beer, and too many overlapping voices. When Jaemin introduced Karina — bright-eyed, funny, effortlessly magnetic — something in Renjun folded in on itself.
Jaemin looked happy. Not the kind of happy Renjun knew — the quiet, tired kind he wore after long nights at the studio or late café shifts. This was lighter. Weightless. Like something had clicked into place, and maybe it had never been Renjun who made him feel that way.
Still, he laughed when he was supposed to. Even threw popcorn at Haechan when he made some dramatic gagging sound at Jaemin and Karina sitting too close.
“You’re just mad I finally found someone who actually likes horror,” Jaemin grinned, bumping Karina’s shoulder.
She rolled her eyes like she’d already heard that joke a dozen times — and liked it every time.
Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, Haechan slipped into the space beside Renjun, close enough that their knees touched.
“You good?” he asked, voice low, words hidden beneath the rise of Mark’s laughter.
Renjun blinked at the screen. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Haechan didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow — not in judgment, but in that annoying, quiet way that meant he saw everything.
So Renjun smiled when it felt right. Laughed when it felt safe. Let the noise fill in the cracks where his thoughts kept slipping through. He didn’t look too long at where Jaemin and Karina sat pressed together, and he definitely didn’t flinch when Jaemin’s fingers brushed against hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He didn’t cry.
Not that night.
Or maybe he did. He wasn’t sure anymore.
***
It was one of those evenings that felt suspended in time — soft, slow, and tinged with the kind of chill that made you want to burrow into a hoodie three sizes too big. The three of them — Renjun, Haechan, and Jeno — were sprawled across the floor of Jeno’s room, a half-built LEGO set abandoned between them, two empty pizza boxes nearby, and a pile of mismatched pillows forming a haphazard nest.
Haechan was halfway through retelling a story about a failed Tinder date when Renjun finally let his laugh slip out, small but real. Jeno, curled up against a beanbag like some musclebound cat, smirked at the sound.
“There he is,” Haechan declared dramatically, pointing at Renjun like he’d just spotted a rare animal. “That’s the laugh of someone who’s been ghosting us emotionally for two weeks straight.”
“I haven’t been ghosting,” Renjun said, rolling his eyes.
“Please,” Haechan scoffed. “You’ve been walking around like a tragic Victorian poet. All moody and sighing at windows.”
“I do not sigh at windows.”
“You sighed at my microwave, Renjun.”
“That’s not even a window!”
“Exactly!”
Renjun groaned, burying his face in a pillow as Jeno snorted beside him. “Let him breathe, Haechan,” Jeno said, nudging Renjun’s leg gently with his foot. “He’s been having a hard time.”
Haechan huffed. “Yeah, well, I’m not not worried. I just prefer to show my concern by being a menace.”
“I noticed,” Renjun muttered, though his voice was softer now. Less guarded.
There was a moment of quiet — just the rustle of Haechan unwrapping another piece of chocolate and the muted thrum of rain tapping against the window.
Then Jeno spoke again, low and simple. “You don’t have to act like it didn’t hurt, you know.”
Renjun didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ceiling. Counted the glow-in-the-dark stars Haechan had stuck up there freshman year.
“I just feel dumb,” he said finally. “Like I made something up in my head that didn’t exist. And now I can’t even be mad about it because he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You’re not dumb,” Jeno said, and it wasn’t the kind of thing he said lightly. His voice had weight to it. “You cared. That’s not a crime.”
“It is when it makes you look pathetic,” Renjun mumbled.
Haechan snorted. “Oh, please. If we’re ranking pathetic, I literally cried in a bathroom stall because someone unmatched me once.”
“You also matched with someone because they had the same air fryer.”
“And it worked out beautifully until she tried to steal it,” Haechan said, completely deadpan.
That earned a tired laugh from Renjun. He turned to Jeno, eyes a little glossy, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips now. “Thanks,” he said, voice quiet.
Jeno just shrugged, a small, lopsided grin on his face. “You don’t need to thank me for caring about you.”
And Haechan — Haechan who always pretended not to notice anything deeper than surface level — leaned over and flopped a heavy arm around Renjun’s shoulders, squeezing once. “You’re stuck with us, tragically. Even when you sigh dramatically at household appliances.”
Renjun rolled his eyes but didn’t shrug him off.
***
Later, when the room had gone quieter — save for the soft snoring coming from Haechan, who had passed out mid-scroll with his phone still clutched to his chest — Renjun found himself lying on his back beside Jeno, both of them staring up at the faint green glow of the ceiling stars.
There was an easy sort of silence between them. The kind that didn’t feel heavy. Just... present.
Jeno glanced over Renjun, “What’s up?” he asked, voice soft but curious.
Renjun blinked, “Oh, um, nothing. Just... thinking.”
“About what?”
“About... how weird it is, being here. With you guys.” Renjun didn’t even know why he said it, but it felt like the truth — the words just spilling out of him before he could stop them. “Like, I used to be a huge fan of the band, you know?”
Jeno raised an eyebrow, amused. “The band? You mean us?”
“Yeah.” Renjun’s voice was barely above a whisper, and he felt a little embarrassed admitting it, but at the same time, it was too real to ignore. “I remember listening to your songs and thinking how cool it would be to even, like... meet you guys. Let alone... be friends with you. But here I am, sitting in your room, trying not to spill my feelings all over the place.”
Jeno chuckled softly.
Renjun shrugged, his lips twitching into a smile. “I never thought I'd end up getting close to you guys, especially not after I spent half of my time during freshman year staring at your band posters and trying to figure out what key you were singing in.”
Jeno laughed, a genuine, full sound. “You were one of those fans?”
“I was a fan,” Renjun corrected, only half joking. “I was serious about it, okay? I even had a whole playlist of your songs I’d play while doing my homework.”
Jeno’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Wait, you mean to tell me you were, like... fangirling over me?” He leaned forward dramatically. “I should have known. You’ve been into me this whole time.”
Renjun’s cheeks flushed, his heart skipping a beat, but he quickly deflected. “Oh, stop. I mean, maybe not you, but yeah. The band. I was lowkey obsessed with the music. But then, you guys ended up becoming friends with me... and honestly, I was kind of shocked. I thought, 'This is crazy. There’s no way I’m this lucky.’”
Jeno’s expression softened, his teasing smile fading a little. “I’m glad we became friends,” he said quietly. “I didn’t expect it either.”
Renjun was quiet for a second, thinking of all the small moments — the late-night talks, the stupid inside jokes, the ease of it all. He wasn’t supposed to be this close to them. Not after spending so much of his life admiring them from afar.
But now... it felt different.
Jeno was still looking at him, and Renjun wasn’t sure if it was the dim light or the way he was feeling tonight, but something made him want to say it. The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
“So, um... I guess it’s kind of embarrassing, but, uh... you know, before I started crushing on Jaemin, I had a... little crush on you.”
Jeno blinked, clearly caught off guard. His expression shifted, and Renjun immediately wanted to melt into the floor and disappear forever.
“I mean, it was nothing serious,” Renjun rushed to explain, sitting up straighter, suddenly very aware of how clumsy his words were. “I mean, you were always so... cool? I guess? I don’t know, I thought you had this vibe. I don’t know if it was the whole band thing, or how you could just... make everything look so effortless, but I thought you were really cool.”
Renjun was suddenly very aware that he had probably said too much. His face felt like it was on fire.
Jeno, to his credit, didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he leaned back a little, his lips curving into the smallest, most unassuming smile.
“You had a crush on me?” Jeno asked, voice soft with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite fathom it.
“Yeah, well... that was a while ago. Like, before Jaemin, obviously.” Renjun scrambled, now even more embarrassed, because this was getting way too real. “It was just a silly little thing. I never thought anything would come of it. It was just like... a weird passing phase, okay?”
Jeno’s face was red, but he was grinning now, his gaze turning down to the floor as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I just—” He laughed a little, the awkwardness making him fidget slightly. “I didn’t expect that. I... I didn’t know you liked me first.”
Renjun couldn’t look at him. “Please stop. I’m dying here.”
“No, no,” Jeno said quickly, still flushed but with the gentlest expression. “It’s cute. I just—honestly, I think it’s really sweet.”
Renjun, trying to hide his face in his hands, mumbled, “Great, now I’m gonna get teased for the rest of my life.”
Jeno stayed quiet. Renjun looked up at him. “You’re... blushing?”
Jeno’s blush deepened. “Shut up, Renjun.”