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“Stop doing that, it’s bad for you.”
Mark steals the cigarette from Chenle’s mouth, putting it out in the ashtray that’s an offensive shade of yellow. Chenle picked it up from a yard sale on his way home two weeks ago. It was the first time in awhile that someone hadn’t sent him a disgusted or pity filled look, but it might’ve been because there was money involved.
“You used to smoke.” Chenle was the one who forced him to quit.
“Yeah, and you didn’t like it.” Mark throws the half burned cigarette and the ashtray into the garbage. “Where’s the rest?”
Chenle doesn’t argue, reaching into his pocket and handing Mark the green carton. Newport 100s. Chenle didn’t know which brand to choose. Most people that he’s known who smoked, including Mark, always chose Marlboros over Newport. The red and white carton. Chenle’s always been a contrarian, so he chose the green over the red.
“I’m an adult. You shouldn’t be making decisions for me.” It’s a half-hearted argument, because Chenle can’t even be assed to put up a full fight. He already handed the cigarettes over easily, and now the carton is crushed up and in the tied up garbage bag.
“You made that decision for me .” Mark isn’t wrong. When he and Chenle first got together, his first order of business was getting Mark to quit. He used plenty of different methods. He would steal cigarettes from the carton and throw them in the trash. Mark would complain how quickly they were running out, and how he was wasting money. He would force Mark to drink coffee or just chew gum when he felt the urge to smoke. When nicotine patches first hit the scene, he made Mark go to the doctor and get a prescription.
Chenle hated everything about cigarettes. He thought they were a waste of money. He hated the way that they smelled. He hated the way that they stained the walls yellow.
Mark said that he started smoking because of stress, and Chenle didn’t understand why at the time. All of the destressors in the world, and Mark chose the one that left your house all stinky and gross and ruined your lungs.
Chenle became a hypocrite when he picked up the box of Newports, but he’s in desperate need of a dopamine hit. He’d only smoked three cigarettes out of the pack in the last two weeks, and each time, the thrill hadn’t hit. So he would try again, hoping that it did.
It’s been 31 days since Jisung hung himself in his closet. It’s been 30 days since Ms. Park knocked on Chenle’s door, screaming about how he killed her baby. It’s been 29 days since a writer for a local newspaper got hold of Jisung’s suicide note, publishing a copy of it in the daily paper, a sheet of loose leaf paper that had all sorts of self-deprecating messages on it, with Chenle’s name scribbled right in the middle.
News didn’t take long to spread, so Chenle would say that 28 days ago, the town had officially dubbed him as despicable and irredeemable. Jisung and Chenle were best friends for so many years, yet Chenle was the alleged cause for his suicide. Their entire friendship had come into question, everyone speculating about what was going on behind closed doors.
But Chenle doesn’t care what any of them have to say. He knows that there has to be some kind of misunderstanding, because he never said any of those things to Jisung. He never called Jisung worthless—never called him a waste of space or a burden. He knows what kind of relationship they had, and while there was some light teasing, Chenle never went there. He knew Jisung better than anyone, better than his own mother.
In the court of public opinion, Chenle has already been tried and found guilty. But he doesn’t care what any of them have to say, because Chenle knows that he couldn’t have been the reason that Jisung killed himself.
“Did you think about what we talked about earlier?”
That morning, Mark asked Chenle to quit his job. Chenle felt like he was on the verge of getting fired, anyway. He’s a secretary in an office building, and having the face of the latest neighborhood scandal being the first person that people see when they walk in isn’t great for the work environment.
“I’ll do it.” Chenle used to be loved in the office. Everyone would stop by his desk, chatting with him about the latest gossip, or a new project, or even about what candy he had in his bowl that week. He’d always been a social butterfly, but as soon as the news hit, nobody wanted to give him the time of day anymore.
He guesses that he understands. With the picture of Chenle that’s been painted by several local journalists, he wouldn’t want to be friends with him either, let alone talk to him. A liar. Deceitful. Two-faced.
When Jisung died, the social butterfly in Chenle followed him to wherever he went. Whatever happens after death. Chenle doesn’t like to think about that.
Chenle’s had limited social interaction since then. He interacts with people at work, who keep the exchanges direct, curt, and sometimes polite. He’ll talk to the clerk at the gas station when he needs to put gas in the car. He’ll greet them with a good morning or good night, and they’ll just ask him which pump. He only has conversations with Mark. The only person he has anymore is Mark.
Chenle had so many ‘friends’, yet the only person who bothered to ask Chenle his side was one bold journalist. Chenle didn’t tell them a thing and just shut the door in their face.
“Don’t go picking up any more bad habits.” Mark grabs Chenle’s hand, lightly tugging it and prompting him to jump off the countertop that he’s sitting on. “Your life is horrible already, don’t make it worse by adding respiratory illness.”
Chenle melts into Mark’s arms—the only place he feels safe these days. The only time where he feels all of the noise in his head go quiet.
“You’re already at risk for severe respiratory illness,” Chenle mumbles. Mark smoked for six years. “If you die prematurely, I wanna die with you.” Mark is the only person who hasn’t left him yet. If Chenle didn’t have him now, he would’ve gone off the rails already. Whatever that would’ve entailed.
“Stop talking about death.” Mark squeezes him a bit tighter. “Don’t bother cooking, I bought food. It’s in the living room.”
“You’re the best.” Chenle didn’t want to cook. “I love you.”
If he didn’t have Mark, who knows where he would’ve been.
Ten minutes to five, Chenle starts to pack his things. He takes every personal item that he bought. He takes his stapler, and his pens, and his sticky notes, and his hole puncher. He takes his paperclips, and his bowl of candy that people would still take from despite supposedly hating him. He takes his binder clips, and he takes his colorful folders, placing the company’s documents back in the beige manila folders that they resided in prior to him taking the liberty of buying new ones.
By the time he’s finished, it’s a little past five. The people that Chenle dubbed “The Runners” are already out, being the ones who were packed up and ready to go by five on the dot. The people who are less uptight with their work hours linger behind, making conversation as they gather their belongings. Chenle feels their eyes on him as he stands up behind his desk, carrying his bag full of materials on his shoulder. He knows that somebody wants to ask him why he packed all his stuff up, but nobody wants to be the one to talk to him.
He’s officially an outcast—a social pariah. Evil and despicable beyond comprehension. Deceptive. Had everyone fooled by his kind and personable attitude, because he was a terrible guy under all of that.
It’s a social thing. Chenle knows that. He knows that there’s some people in the town who hate him. Who genuinely believe that he’s a horrible person. Then there’s the people who don’t. The ones who may still deep down like Chenle, or just don’t have an opinion on him. They have to exist. So many people in such close proximity can’t all hold the same opinion. It seems statistically and logically impossible. So whoever those people are, are just riding the wave of the popular and “correct” opinion, not wanting to be grouped in with Chenle for showing just a bit of sympathy for him.
That's another reason that Chenle loves Mark. If Chenle was likeable before the storm, then Mark was lovable. Mark is still well-liked, but he won’t pretend that he hasn’t been hearing people questioning Mark’s character for his decision to stand by Chenle. He’s also heard people say that it must be out of pity, or maybe Chenle is manipulating Mark behind the scenes.
The stories that people tell.
Chenle enters his boss’s office and rests his keys on his desk.
“I won’t be back.”
His boss looks down at the keys, then back up at Chenle. “Why? You movin’? Get another job?”
“No.” Chenle just can’t handle it anymore, and he doesn’t offer up any explanation.
“You can pick up your last—“
“Can you mail it?” Chenle doesn’t want to come back here.
“Sure.”
Chenle turns around and leaves, not sparing any of his ex-coworkers a single glance as he walks out the front door. The sun is still hanging high in the sky, but even if it wasn’t, Chenle would still slide his sunglasses onto his face. He throws his bag of supplies in the trunk, unsure what to do with them anymore. He could’ve left them, but with the way everyone has treated him, he didn’t think that they deserved to benefit from his labor and money even after he quit. Maybe he can give them to Mark for the teachers at the school. Office supplies and classroom supplies are fairly interchangeable.
Chenle drives with the radio off. He’ll let Mark pick what he wants to listen to when he gets in the car. Today he worked his second job, so he gets off a little later than Chenle. Chenle is usually a bit early to pick him up, but because he took extra time to pack up his belongings and quit, he’ll arrive right on time today.
Chenle pulls up in front of the local middle school, where Mark is already walking down the steps. Mark is a nurse, but his second job is leading an MC and DJ-ing after school program at the middle school. It’s not just for money—Mark actually pitched the idea to the principal after seeing some of the neighborhood pre-teens take interest in his hobby.
Mark. He’s too sweet. He wanted to do it for free, but the principal pretty much forced him to accept the payment.
“Did you do it?” Mark asks as soon as he gets in the car.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Chenle sees Mark reach into his bag from his peripheral vision. “I got you a surprise.”
Once they reach a red light, Mark pulls three rocks out of his bag.
“Got there early, so the art teacher invited me to one of her classes.”
The first rock has a light blue ‘C’ painted onto it, with red hearts and music notes littering it. The second rock has a dark blue ‘M’ on it, and is decorated the same. The last rock has the word ‘Forever’ crammed onto it.
“You’re so cute.” Chenle accepts his rock from Mark’s hand, poking him in his cheek before pressing the gas. “I love it.”
“I love you.”
Chenle keeps the rock in his hand as he drives, appreciating Mark’s gift. It’s the little things. Mark and Chenle haven’t gone on a date or anything since everything started. Chenle can’t stand everyone looking at him, and Mark can’t stand everyone looking at Chenle either. It’s not even just disgust or pity, it’s like they’re questioning how Chenle even has the audacity to show his face in public, because he knows what he did.
But that’s the thing, Chenle doesn’t know what he did for Jisung to write his name on that paper. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve all of this. He lost his best friend one day, and then the next, lost all of his support. He couldn’t go to the funeral, he can’t grieve properly. He knows that he should see Jisung, but he always chickens out of going to the cemetery, scared that he might run into Jisung’s mother.
“You know what these rocks reminded me of?” Mark asks.
“What?”
“It’s kind of a big jump, but, you know, rocks, crystals, witchcraft and spiritual stuff, it’s all connected, right?”
“It is.” Chenle thinks that he knows what path Mark is going down.
“I know that you said you were joking the last time I brought it up, but I do think that maybe it’d be a nice idea for you to actually try talking to Renjun.”
Renjun, the town psychic-witch-spiritualist, or the town fraud, depends on who you ask. Some people swear by Renjun, saying that he’s spoken to their dead relatives, or that his spells worked on them. Others said that he was a fake, and his supposed witchcraft and skills weren’t real. Renjun always defended himself by saying that he can’t always control magic and spirits. He’s just a middleman. He calls them, and they choose if they want to answer.
Chenle’s never really cared for that sort of stuff, feeling secure in his own plane of existence. When the news first hit, though, between Chenle being yelled at by Ms. Park and seeing the note with his own two eyes, he suddenly felt desperate to understand. He brought up talking to Renjun, suddenly desiring that connection to the spiritual plane. He wanted to talk to Jisung. Ask him why he did it. What Chenle could’ve done to help. What he didn’t do well enough. What the meaning of that letter was.
Chenle eventually sobered up from the thoughts and decided that seeing Renjun would be too much. He was probably just a fraud, anyway. There was no point.
“Even if it’s not real, maybe whatever he makes you do will help you work through it.”
When they get home, they place the rocks on their bedroom vanity. Mark’s suggestion lingers in Chenle’s head. He didn’t give him an answer in the car, but that’s because he wanted to think a bit more. Mark hasn’t led Chenle astray yet. He gives good advice. He always acts and thinks in Chenle’s best interest.
They eat dinner, wash up, and lay on the couch watching TV, until the TV begins watching them.
Chenle wakes up half past eleven. Mark is gone, having gone in for work. Chenle usually drives him, because Mark hates driving. He’s anxious on the road. So Chenle thinks that he’s taken a cab, until he looks on the dining room table and sees that the keys are gone.
He must have another destination on his way home and doesn’t want to pay extra fare. That’s the usual reason that he drives himself when Chenle can’t.
Chenle gave it some thought, and he decided that maybe he should give Renjun a go. He tracks the supposed witch’s number down, and then dials it on the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m speaking to Renjun, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Renjun answers. “Who am I speaking to?”
Chenle grimaces at the question, but he knows that he has to say. He thought that maybe since Renjun is spiritually connected to a higher being or something, he’d have mercy on him. But now that he has the phone in his hand, has his doubts.
“It’s Chenle.” He goes quiet for a second, waiting to see if the line goes dead.
“Oh, hi,” Renjun responds. He doesn’t sound upset or confused. “How are you?”
“Getting by,” Chenle chuckles. It’s been the first time anybody besides Mark has asked him that in weeks.
“I see. I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you.”
“Really?” Chenle asks.
“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with me meddling in your business.”
Chenle welcomes it.
“I’m fine with that,” Chenle answers. “I want to talk to you, too. When can I see you?”
“I’m free all day tomorrow,” Renjun says. “Does that work for you?”
Chenle is free all day tomorrow as well. And the day after. And the day following that. Chenle will be free for a long time.
“Yeah, that works. I’ll see you then, I guess?”
“Yeah.” Chenle feels like he can hear Renjun’s smile through the phone. “I’ll see you. Take care of yourself.”
“I will.” Renjun’s last words were clearly just a formality, but they still touch Chenle’s heart.
Chenle doesn’t do much as the hours go by. He forces himself to go back to sleep because he’s so bored. And then he makes himself a late lunch when he wakes up, which he doesn’t even finish. Then he tries to read a book. He read it already, so the thrill is gone, making him put it down. He watches an episode of Beverly Hills, 90210 , which is not as interesting as he remembered it being the last time he watched it like a year ago.
Really, Chenle just spends his whole day waiting for Mark to come home. Yesterday, Mark told Chenle that he was going in at nine for his shift today, which means that he gets off at five. The drive home from Mark’s job is usually like fifteen minutes, but Chenle also has to account for whatever Mark may do on his way home. So Chenle doesn’t get too excited when the clock hits five.
Mark returns home at a quarter to six, holding a sheetcake and several grocery bags in his arms.
“What’s all this?” They went grocery shopping just a few days ago, and Chenle doesn’t recall Mark mentioning that they needed anything.
“We’re having a date!” Mark rests the cake on the dining room table. “Voila! I got the best pastry chef in the store to write this for you!”
HAPPY 1ST DAY UNEMPLOYED
“You’re so silly.” Chenle smiles at the cake.
They haven’t gone on one in a while. Chenle and Mark have always gone out frequently. They were that maybe overly friendly couple. The two would go on dates at the park, or at the beach, or at the restaurant, and always manage to strike up a conversation with the people around them, usually being the ones to invite them in. It was their thing. A night wasn’t complete without them dragging a random person into at least one conversation.
Now, the people required to speak to Chenle by their jobs don’t even want to do that.
“You know I can’t cook, so I just raided the seafood counter.” Mark starts to unpack the bags, revealing the boxes labeled ‘crab’, ‘lobster’, ‘french fries’, ‘salmon’, and that’s not even half of it.
“I won’t have to cook for days.” Chenle laughs as he starts to grab some tableware, feeling like they need to set the table in order to get that date ambiance.
“See how convenient that is!” Mark cheers. “I always think ahead!”
Chenle knows deep down that Mark didn’t even have that in mind, but he just reaches over and pinches his cheek, deciding to let him have his moment. They get get the table set up, and once the mood is set—red wine poured in glasses, and the radio playing low, they begin their “date.”
“I spoke to Renjun on the phone today,” Chenle says as he cracks open a crab leg. He pretends to not see Mark grinning, acting nonchalant as he pulls the meat out of the shell.
“Did you guys agree to meet up?”
Chenle nods. “I’m supposed to go see him tomorrow.”
“That’s good.” Chenle can tell that Mark is holding back an ‘I told you so!’ or a ‘See, don’t you feel better.’ He seems to restrain himself, though. When Chenle reaches these small victories, courtesy of Mark, he tries not to boast anymore. A win is a win, especially in these times, and despite it all being jokes, both of them know that the teasing at the wrong time can act as an easy way to kill all of Chenle’s willpower.
Chenle changes the topic, and they start to talk about sports. No neighborhood gossip. Mark tells him about a funny patient that came in that day. Chenle tells him about some of the shows that he watched earlier, because he didn’t do much of anything that day.
But the date is fun. Chenle needed it. And when they retire to bed, ready to call it a night, he falls asleep before Mark for the first time in a while, not plagued by negative thoughts, but instead contentment.
“You don’t have to drive me, you know?” Mark says as he throws his bag in the backseat. “It’s not fair for me to make you wake up at the crack of dawn everyday when you don’t have to.”
Chenle just shrugs as he turns the key to the ignition. “I just happened to wake up early. It’s fine.” Chenle doesn’t think that it’s fair to make Mark drive everyday when he doesn’t like to, and when Chenle can easily do it for him. “Plus, I need the car to go and see Renjun today.”
“When are you supposed to see him?” Mark asks as he sits down.
“I’m not sure.” It’s half to seven, and even though Renjun told him that he could pop in whenever, in Chenle’s sensible mind it’s still way too early to do so. “Maybe around twelve. Lunch time seems appropriate.”
Mark nods. “Yeah, that sounds reasonable.”
Chenle doesn’t know how exactly Renjun can help him—if he can help him—but he maintains that even if it’s nothing of true substance, as long as it provides him some comfort, he’ll be satisfied. A false sense of security is still a sense of security at the end of the day.
There’s also nothing for Chenle to lose. Aside from Mark, he’s already lost it all. So as long as Mark stays by his side, there’s nothing else that can possibly be taken from him.
Mark presses a kiss to Chenle’s cheek before he exits the vehicle.
“Have a good day,” Chenle bids as Mark grabs his bag from the back.
“I will.” Mark blows a kiss at him. “Have an even better one, love.”
Meeting with Renjun is nerve wracking. He can hear the pound of his heart all the way in his ears, pulsing, anticipating when the door will open. How Chenle will be greeted. Honestly, Chenle feels like he’s gonna pass out. He almost wishes that he chose a day where Mark was off, just so that he could’ve accompanied him.
It feels like hours pass before the door finally creaks open, a head peeking out before it opens up completely.
“Chenle, hi, come in.”
Chenle nods, stepping inside. He’s polite, taking his shoes off at the door, which warrants Renjun giving him an approving nod.
“You wanna talk about communicating with Jisung, right?” Renjun asks as he leads him through the house. The place looks like what Chenle would expect from a spiritualist like Renjun—plants and crystals all over the place, random “spell books” on several surfaces, incense burning and the smoke swirling up in the air.
“Yeah, hopefully.”
Renjun brings him to a small room lined with bookshelves with a small desk in the center. This must be his office, or study, or whatever the equivalent is for someone like him. There’s a large book in the center of the desk, and Chenle is talking huge, it must be well over one-thousand pages. There’s sticky tabs poking out from many of the pages, from the top, side, and bottom.
“Don’t be nervous,” Renjun chuckles. “Sit.”
Chenle follows instructions, taking the seat across from Renjun’s own. To the right of the book, there’s a small notepad that’s been scribbled all over. Renjun rips the page out and gives it to Chenle.
“There’s two things that I can do for you,” Renjun begins. “You can let me know if you’d like to do one, or both, or neither. There’s the usual thing that people ask me to do, which is to speak to the dead. It’s a hit or miss, which is why people like to call me a scammer, but I can’t necessarily control the circumstances.”
Chenle nods, taking in the information.
“Answers aren’t always guaranteed with this method, because sometimes I can’t even reach the spirit. And time with them is limited. I burn a candle, and once it finishes burning, the conversation ceases. Sometimes it burns quickly, sometimes it burns slow, but I can’t control that. Sometimes the spirits answer the questions, sometimes they don’t. But it’s the safest and easiest method for some quick answers. How does that sound?”
Chenle fidgets with his sunglasses, before deciding to take them off. The gesture seems to make Renjun smile. It’s become a habit. Anywhere besides his own home, and his job, before he quit, Chenle’s gotten used to keeping the shades on.
“That sounds fine.” He’s not familiar with the paranormal or supernatural, so he’ll trust Renjun.
“Good.” Renjun then gestures to the paper in Chenle’s hand. “And that is the other thing that I can do with you. I searched this spell book for a bit, and I came across a spell that can give you random visions into a deceased person’s life. I’ve never tried it before—and I don’t know if or how well it’ll work, but we can try. I wrote down the things you’d need to bring.”
VISIONS OF YOU
- 1 TREASURED ITEM OF JISUNG’S
- 1 TREASURED ITEM OF CHENLE’S
- 1 PICTURE OF JISUNG AND CHENLE
- 1 HEARTFELT LETTER FROM CHENLE TO JISUNG
“Would you be able to bring that stuff?”
Chenle nods. “I’ll do it.” Anything to understand why.
“Alright,” Renjun cheers quietly, doing a little dance. “After you write the letter, put it in this envelope.” He hands Chenle a small red envelope. “Just so you know, the only person who will know what the letter says is you. The spell says to burn the letter and the envelope, so after you seal it, it won’t be taken out again.”
Chenle nods again. He doesn’t think that he’d want others to see whatever he writes to Jisung.
“We can do this as soon as you want.” Renjun grabs the calendar resting beside him. “We can even do it tomorrow at four, if that works for you. I might need a couple of days to get you the results of me speaking to Jisung, though.”
“Tomorrow at four works for me,” Chenle says. Even better because Mark is off. “Is it alright if I bring Mark? Emotional support and all.”
Renjun smiles softly. “Of course you can. Do you need anything else from me?”
“How much do I owe?” Chenle knows that Renjun’s services aren’t free, but the psychic waves him off.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” The room then goes silent for a moment before Renjun speaks again. “And I’ve been wondering about Jisung, too. It just didn’t seem right. You know, he’d been visiting me for a bit leading up to, well…”
Chenle sighs. “Yeah.”
“He was very sweet.” Renjun’s eyes start to get a bit glossy. Chenle gets it. Something like that happening to such a ray of sunshine like Jisung brings most people to that point. “And he liked to talk about you. He would talk about how he was having a bad day, and then he’d start smiling when he said that he’d be okay because he was going to see you later.”
Chenle almost wants to tell Renjun to stop. Instead, he just slides his sunglasses back onto his face, masking his own glossy eyes.
“He was the best,” Chenle agrees. His Jisung. His best friend since middle school.
“It just didn’t make sense—the suicide note.” Renjun runs a hand through his hair, and then shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, no,” Chenle cuts off the apology. “I’m grateful, really.” That someone finally understands him. That someone else besides himself and Mark believe that there’s more to the story. “Thank you.”
When Chenle arrives home, he immediately begins searching for the items that he needs for the ritual. It doesn’t take long for him to find a picture, because they have plenty of those. A truckload of photos taken on Mark’s polaroid that he so graciously would let Chenle borrow—a small favor that Chenle will be eternally grateful for. He gave him so many opportunities to immortalize his best friend.
Chenle decides on a photo of him and Jisung that Mark took while they were having a picnic, Chenle feeding Jisung a strawberry. He places the photo to the side, forcing himself to close the keepsake box full of similar ones. Chenle doesn’t want to send himself down memory lane—something that’d take him out of commission for the night.
He then decides on the two items that can be used for the ritual—a set of silly best friend necklaces that they got at the charity shop. Chenle knows that he loves his—too much to even wear it without being overwhelmed by emotion. And he knows that Jisung loved it too. The only reason that Chenle has it is because Jisung left it there a couple of nights before he took his own life.
Whether it was on purpose, or if he just happened to take it off and forget to bring it home with him, Chenle will never know.
The last part is what takes Chenle hours—writing a heartfelt letter to Jisung. He has so many things that he wants to say. So many questions to ask. So many grievances with the dead boy. All of those emotions hitting him at once is what causes him to take so long, not knowing what is important enough to sprawl on the page.
But he perseveres, comforted by the fact that in a day’s time, it’ll be burned to a crisp. It’s for nobody’s eyes but Chenle’s, and Jisung’s, if he can see it wherever he is.
He folds the paper up, sliding it in the envelope that Renjun gave him and placing it to the side with the other items.
Just in the nick of time, because Chenle has to go pick up Mark from work. He goes to the living room, ready to grab the car keys and go, but Mark’s already coming through the door.
“Did you leave early?” Chenle looks at the clock again, seeing that it’s ten minutes to three. Mark nods, not speaking as he kicks his shoes off.
Chenle finds his demeanor weird. He’s upset.
“What’s wrong?” Chenle throws the keys back onto the table, walking over to Mark.
He finds out quickly once he notices the band-aids on both his lip and eyebrow.
“What the fuck happened?” Chenle resists the urge to rip the bandages off and look at exactly what’s under.
Mark just wraps his arms around Chenle’s waist, pressing a kiss to his head and saying, “I love you.”
“You’re not answering me.” Chenle hugs him back, but refuses to let up. “I love you, so you need to tell me what happened.”
“Crazy patient, it was just one of those days.”
“Why are you lying to me?” Chenle doesn’t know how, but he just knows that Mark is lying. Boyfriend’s intuition.
Mark pulls away, and then grabs a bag that he set to the side. He hands it to Chenle. “I got this for you.”
Chenle reaches into the bag and pulls out a blue stuffed cat.
“It’s cute.” Chenle hugs it to his chest. “But tell me what happened to your face.”
Mark sighs, and Chenle knows that he’s about to give in.
“Some guy was talking shit,” he mumbles, like he just wants to speed by his explanation.
“So you fought him.” Chenle’s glad that Mark gave him the stuffed animal, because he has something to squeeze as a way to relieve his stress. “You fought him?”
Mark sighs. “I’m sorry, baby. I love you. I can’t just let people talk about you like that. At least not around me.”
Chenle can’t find it in himself to be angry. It’s his fault.
“I’m sorry.” Chenle rests the plushie on the couch, going over to Mark and hugging him again. “I’m sorry that you had to do that for me.”
Mark leans in, pressing a soft kiss on Chenle’s mouth.
“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” He kisses Chenle again. “I’ll take a hundred ass beatings for you.”
Chenle smiles, pinching Mark’s cheek. “Please don’t.”
The air lightens up when they pull away, Mark playfully slapping Chenle’s ass. “So how was your talk with Renjun?”
“Said that he could do two things for me.” Chenle pulls Mark down onto the couch. “Tomorrow we’re supposed to do some ritual that might give me visions. They’re supposed to be of things that Jisung experienced before he died.”
“Sounds good.”
“He said that you could come, by the way.” Chenle needs his emotional support Mark.
“Sounds even better.” Mark wraps his arms around Chenle’s shoulders.
“And he told me that he could do a normal psychic discussion with Jisung, but that I may not get all the answers that I want.”
“Some answers are better than none.”
That’s exactly what Chenle thinks, too.
Mark holds the box of items in his lap while Chenle focuses on the road. They were almost out of luck, as Chenle was so nervous that he felt like he could barely drive, and that anxiety transferred over to Mark. They managed to work through it, though, and despite the fact that all of Chenle’s nervous jitters haven’t gone away, he’s put them to the side so that they could at least make it to Renjun’s place. Chenle would never be able to forgive himself if he missed out on an opportunity like this.
They make it to Renjun’s place in one piece, where the psychic, or witch, invites them in.
“Like I said yesterday, there’s no guarantee that this spell will work.” Renjun guides them to his workspace that Chenle was in the day before. “I never tried this spell, and I don’t know to what extent it’ll work if it actually does. These things are sort of hit or miss.”
It looks like Renjun’s part of the ritual has been set up. The table already has incense burning, the smoke swirling up in the air. In the center of the desk, there’s a metal box with tea candles inside.
“Chenle can sit at my desk, Mark, you can sit to the side.”
The couple follow instructions, with Mark shooting Chenle a supportive grin from his seat.
“Do you have what I asked for?” Renjun asks as he takes his seat. Chenle nods, handing over all four of the items from the box. Renjun thanks him.
It looks like an altar once he sets it up, inserting the picture of Chenle and Jisung into a frame, before positioning the necklaces and burning incense in front of it.
“Can you close your eyes for me?” Renjun asks. Chenle immediately follows instruction, not wanting to do anything that could jeopardize the ritual.
Renjun begins to hum a tune, and Chenle hears a lighter flicker. It feels like years, but eventually the sound of what must be the letter burning hits his ears. Renjun continues to hum, before whispering something under his breath that Chenle can’t make out.
And then just like that.
“You’re all finished.”
When Chenle opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of black ash sitting over the tea candles, and a fully burned out incense stick.
“You can take the photos and necklaces back.” Renjun begins to tidy up, taking the metal box and putting it on a shelf. “Let me know if you see any results, and I’ll let you know when I’m able to talk to Jisung.”
“Thank you so much.” Chenle gathers his belongings and stands up. “I’ll keep in touch.”
Renjun walks the couple to the door, and they bid him farewell.
“So, do you feel any different?” Mark asks as they enter the vehicle. Chenle shakes his head.
“Not at all,” he answers as he turns the key in the ignition. “But there’s a chance that it might not work, so I don’t wanna get my hopes up too much.”
“That’s true.” They pull off from Renjun’s driveway and get on the road. “But we can hope.”
“Yeah.” Hope is the only thing on Chenle’s side now.
“It was kind of freaky, though,” Mark says. “Like he started swirling the incense around your head and stuff. And then he…”
Chenle starts losing all ability to focus on Mark’s voice, and vision starts to cut in and out, until his sight is totally taken over by a view that’s not the expanse of the road in front of him.
Mrs. Park is sitting on the familiar couch of her home. Brown and patched up by miscellaneous cloths. She’s holding a piece of paper in her hand, and the contents can’t be seen from his perspective.
“What’s that?” Jisung’s voice sounds through Chenle’s head. He’s Jisung.
“Nothing.” Ms. Park crumbles up the paper, tossing it in the garbage bag. “Take this outside for me.” Mrs. Park ties up the bag, before handing it to Jisung to toss.
Jisung brings the bag outside, but before tossing it in the bin, he unties the bag, grabbing the crumbled piece of paper.
It’s a letter from his father’s insurance company stating that they won’t pay out his policy because his death didn’t fit the terms. Chenle knew that Jisung and his mother were going through some financial problems, especially after his father passed away. And Chenle tried to do small things for Jisung and his mom since he wouldn’t accept any major help, like dropping off “extra groceries” or insisting that he cover the costs of all of their hangouts.
Jisung crumbles up the letter, throwing it back into the bag and tossing it into the bin.
“Chenle! Chenle! Chenle!” Mark’s hand profusely shaking his shoulder wakes him up. The car is pulled over to the side of the road, moving slowly. “What the fuck? What’s wrong?”
“I saw—The ritual—I saw—”
It worked. The ritual worked.
“Okay, step on the brake,” Mark instructs. Chenle does what he says, and Mark puts the car in park. “Get out, I’m driving from now on. You can’t drive anymore if that has the possibility of happening while you are.”
Chenle can’t argue with him, because he would never forgive himself if he got them into an accident.
“You scared me to death,” Mark sighs as he slides into the driver’s seat. “The visions are really gonna have you passing out on me like that?”
Chenle laughs softly as they pull back onto the road. “I guess so.”
“Now I need to keep my eye on you. That’s literally so dangerous. From now on, you’ll need to be supervised while cooking, showering, and anything else that’s dangerous to zone out during the act of!” Mark sounds like a nagging mom.
“Fine, fine,” Chenle groans. He doesn’t think that either of them anticipated that it’d be this serious, given that they didn’t know if or how it would work.
Chenle can tell that Mark is keeping an extra eye on him for the entire ride home, glancing at him from the corner of his eye every few seconds. It starts to get a little silly, and maybe excessive, but Chenle is glad that he has someone like Mark in his corner. Someone who cares.
“I think that I wanna visit Jisung.” Chenle tightens his hold around Mark’s naked waist, nuzzling his face further into his neck. He doesn’t know whether to attribute the moment of clarity to their small victory earlier, or to what he and Mark just did. It’s been a while since either of those things occurred for Chenle—a victory and having sex. Maybe the clarity can be attributed to a little bit of both giving Chenle a hit of dopamine and some courage.
“How soon? If you’re ready to go tomorrow, then I can drive you. I’m off.” His hand rubs circles into Chenle’s lower back—calming and reassuring.
Chenle hums. “Tomorrow’s good. Better sooner than later. Never know when the courage is gonna run out.”
It’s truly summer outside. It’s half past six in the evening, yet the sun is still hanging high in the sky. Jisung—he preferred the fall. Chenle didn’t know how it was possible for any young adult to prefer the time of year where you had to layer on sweaters and coats, and where the sun set earlier and earlier—it being dark as night when it’s barely past five o’clock.
Now that Chenle’s hiding from people for the first time in his life—he gets it. He more than gets it. But the cemetery closes at nine, so he couldn’t push his visit much further.
“I’ll give you your privacy.” Mark presses a kiss to Chenle’s head. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
Chenle nods, readjusting his sunglasses so that they’re straight on his face. He enters the cemetery, careful not to step on anyone’s grave. His eyes scan every single headstone, searching for Jisung’s. He’s never seen it—and therefore doesn’t know what kind of stone to look out for.
But when his eyes land on the cleanest looking stone in the yard, he feels drawn to it. It has to be his. It’s the newest looking one. People don’t die often here. The last funeral that was held before Jisung’s was his father’s, and it’s been a few months since then.
“Jisung…” Chenle’s left at a loss for words as he stares at the headstone, unable to process that underneath the dirt that he’s standing on is his best friend.
He crouches down, taking a closer look at the epitaph etched into the stone.
‘Nothing gold can stay.’
Jisung became obsessed with that poem after watching The Outsiders . His favorite character was Johnny—Chenle preferred Dally.
It’s a strange coincidence that things ended up this way for them, but Chenle decided that he couldn’t be Dally. He has to keep living, with or without Jisung.
Chenle would say that it’s what Jisung would’ve wanted, but with all these mixed signals, it’s hard to know how Jisung would’ve felt anymore.
“Jisung, I don’t know what I did, or why you wrote that note.” Chenle stands up, still keeping his eyes on the headstone. He doesn’t know where else to look. Does he look up to the sky? Where heaven is—if it even exists. Does he look to the ground where the raised stone lies, approximating where Jisung’s eyes would be on his corpse?
Looking at the headstone is the least sickening option.
“If I did do something, then I’m sorry.” Chenle’s reflected. He’s reflected a lot. He’s turned the pages in the storybook of his mind, reading back and trying to figure out where he went wrong. Read in between the lines—desperately wanting to know what he’s done to hurt Jisung. They’ve had their petty best friend spats, but those were mainly in their teenage years. Nothing serious as of recently—nothing that Chenle would’ve thought would drive Jisung to suicide.
“But I’m really just trying to understand, Jisung.” Chenle doesn’t beg. The only time he does is when he’s being playful. He doesn’t think that desperation is a good look on him—but he doesn’t have much dignity left to spare. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, when you speak to Renjun, please give him an answer.”
Chenle glances over at the gate, where he can see Mark sitting on the hood of their car, staring off into the distance.
“I don’t have anyone but Mark. You left me, and everyone hates me and thinks that I’m a horrible person.” Chenle’s voice breaks. He doesn’t want to get too emotional, but he needs to get it out. He hasn’t cried since he got the news—and he intends to keep it that way. “But I don’t care what they think, I care about you. I don’t know why you did this, but it couldn’t have been my fault, right Ji?”
Chenle’s vision begins to get spotty, like he’s about to receive another vision, but he keeps talking.
“We’ve been best friends for years. I love you. I still love you. We were supposed to have movie night the day after you did it. I rented the movies, and I bought snacks, and I got Mark to agree to leave so it could be just us—like old times. Did you really wanna come? Would you have planned it with me if I was so horrible? I’m not trying to sound—I just wanna—” Chenle’s voice sounds distant in his own head as the vision takes over his mind.
It’s the familiar hallway of Jisung’s home. Dim yellow lighting—they would always joke that it made it seem like a horror movie. Jisung turns the corner into the kitchen. He pads through, before opening the basement door.
Chenle finds it odd, after Jisung’s father passed, he would say how much he hated the basement. Still, Jisung enters, flicking on the light as soon as he begins his descent down the steps. Despite not being able to smell the vision, Chenle is reminded of the smell of sawdust. Back when Jisung’s father would be down there working on his wood-working projects.
Jisung reaches into a closet and feels around. He then retracts his hands, shutting the doors as if he didn’t find what he was looking for.
A sense of unease begins to fill Chenle.
Jisung opens another closet, and Chenle immediately feels sick.
He grabs a bundle of rope.
Chenle tries to override the vision, but it’s like he’s trapped. There’s no way to escape his mind.
Jisung runs back up the basement steps and shuts off the light.
Chenle feels like he’s going to faint. He hopes that he faints—because he doesn’t want to see how this vision ends.
Jisung walks back to his room, and immediately walks into his closet.
Chenle’s vision goes black.
His eyes shoot open, and he’s met with the sight of Mark staring back at him.
“Chenle.”
They’re in the backseat of their car, Chenle’s head resting in Mark’s lap.
“Are you okay?”
Chenle clasps onto Mark’s hand on his cheek, needing a moment to collect himself.
“He was about to hang himself.” Chenle’s voice comes out small. “I watched him get the rope—He was about to—” It’s too horrible to admit. “I passed out.”
Mark’s face manages to drop more than it already has, his round eyes widening.
“I’m sorry.”
They sit in silence for a few moments, Chenle savoring his presence.
He thinks that Mark is who prevented him from becoming a Dally. Stopped him from self-destructing the minute he felt like his world had fallen apart.
“I put them back on you because they fell, and I know that you don’t like being outside without them.” Mark’s fingers reach for Chenle’s sunglasses, removing them from his face. “But I miss how your eyes look in the sun. It’s weird. It’s not something you notice until you’ve been deprived of the sight for a bit.”
Chenle continues to look up at Mark, resisting the urge to shut his eyes. The sun is setting, but there’s still a line of light shining into the car right onto Chenle’s face.
Just after the newspaper article with the suicide note was released, Chenle went to the gas station. Everyone was giving him strange looks, and some were even whispering under their breath.
There was one elderly woman, Mrs. Kwon, that Chenle thought he had built up a good rapport with in the past couple of years, but she muttered something to her friend as he walked by.
“I always knew there was something off about that boy. His eyes—they’re so dark. Like there’s the devil in there.”
“Are you ready to go home?” Mark asks.
“Not yet,” Chenle answers. “Can we just stay like this for a bit?”
“Yeah.” Mark nods profusely. “Whatever you want.”
Chenle lays there, staring up at Mark as he gazes out the window. The setting sun leaves an orange glow on his face, making him look like some sort of movie hero. It’s fitting—Mark is a hero. He’s well liked in the neighborhood, especially loved by the children, helps take care of people everyday—and most importantly, acts as Chenle’s savior. Chenle doesn’t think that there’s a bad bone in Mark’s body. Even his few and far between verbal or physical altercations with people are always in defense of somebody else.
“What did I do to deserve you?”
Chenle thought that he was a good person. He wishes that he could still believe it wholeheartedly, but even the most headstrong people can have their beliefs broken down after a certain point.
“Don’t say stuff like that. How would you feel if I asked about what I did to deserve you?”
Chenle groans. “I would get upset. You deserve better than me.”
“I don’t.” Mark sighs, cupping Chenle’s hands in his face. “I love you. I want you. Nobody but you. You deserve me. Stop letting those people get in your head, Chenle. You know your heart— I know your heart.”
“Stop it.” Mark is going to make him emotional. Chenle’s emotional all the time these days, and it makes him wonder when he’s become so fragile. But Mark is making him feel extra emotional. “You’re gonna make me cry.”
Mark’s lips purse out into a small pout. “You can cry in front of me, baby.”
Chenle still can’t. “I’m ready to go.”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
The visions come in waves. Chenle’s lying down, watching T.V. while Mark is at work when he sees Jisung paying a visit to Renjun.
“This is it!” Renjun says in his chipper tone, handing Jisung a huge book. “I hope that you find what you’re looking for.”
Jisung nods gratefully. “I hope so, too.” He hugs the book to his chest.
“Any plans for later on?” Renjun asks as he walks Jisung to the door.
“I’m gonna see Chenle today,” Jisung chirps. “He agreed to cook me dinner tonight, whatever I wanted.”
The vision has Chenle waking up with tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks them away before they can fall.
Mark’s foresight is correct, because Chenle indeed has vision while he’s cooking, and the last thing he remembers feeling before becoming fully immersed into Jisung’s world are Mark’s arms wrapping around his waist.
He’s sitting at the counter of the convenience store where Jisung worked—one of the male’s two jobs. Chenle had gotten him in as a receptionist at his job’s sister company, but because of his financial situation, he also maintained his job at the store.
“Hey.” A man walks in, and it’s a guy that Chenle and Jisung have never liked. Sangyeon, one of the people who used to bother Jisung when they were younger. When they were in school, Jisung and Chenle were opposites who attracted—Chenle was small and mighty, voice way louder than his tiny body. Nobody messed with him, because there was no such thing as arguing with Zhong Chenle and winning. He even got beat up a couple of times, but that never stopped him from fucking with the person afterwards. Jisung was a gentle giant. Tall, yet mousy and quiet. Reserved and careful. He was strong—his father used to give him kickboxing lessons in their garage, but he didn’t dare put his hands on anyone, even when it probably would’ve benefited him. People would pick on Jisung because of his demeanor, and once Chenle caught wind of this, he immediately adopted him as his best friend.
Jisung doesn’t greet him back. Why would he? He made his teen years hell.
Sangyeon scoffs, walking up to the counter. “You’re not gonna greet me?”
“Can I help you?” Jisung asks.
“Yeah, give me a pack of Marlboro lights,” Sangyeon demands rudely, scoffing at Jisung.
Jisung looks up, scanning the shelves behind the counter. “We don’t have those.”
“The box is right there.” Sangyeon points at the box behind the glass. Jisung picks it up, showing him that it’s empty. Sangyeon scoffs again. “Why didn’t you take it out then?”
“Do you want something else?” It was rare for Jisung to be so short with people.
“You have a nasty attitude.” Sangyeon steps away from the counter. “What? Think you’re all that now ‘cause your daddy died and left you as the man of the house?”
Gosh.
“If you don’t want anything else, you can leave.” Jisung sits back in his chair.
Chenle wishes that these visions gave him insight into what exactly Jisung was thinking at the moment. Jisung keeps his composure, but he knows that the comment has to burn.
Sangyeon scoffs, flipping the bird at Jisung as he leaves.
When he opens his eyes, he’s sitting on Mark’s lap, his boyfriend burying his face in Chenle’s shoulder, whispering sweet words for him to wake up to.
“Here’s the transcription.” Renjun holds up a folded piece of paper. Chenle accepts it, looking back at Mark warily.
“How did it go?” He fiddles with the paper in between his fingers, hesitating to open it. He almost does, before changing his mind and deciding that it’s something that should be done in the privacy of his home.
“Decently,” Renjun answers, his even tone not even giving Chenle a hint of what could possibly be on the page, and whether it’s truly good. “We didn’t get to speak for long, but, I think you’ll benefit from hearing what he had to say.”
Chenle nods, carefully placing the paper in his pocket. “Thank you. For everything.”
Renjun nods. “You’re welcome. You deserved this.” He then goes silent, but tension hangs in the air, as if he has more to say.
“I have a theory,” the witch blurts out. “Take it with a grain of salt, because I don’t know at all.”
Chenle looks back at Mark, who shrugs. It’s his way of communicating that Chenle should hear Renjun out.
“I don’t think the suicide note was a really a suicide note. I think it could’ve been a part of a failed ritual.”
The sight of Renjun handing Jisung a spell book from that vision floods Chenle’s mind.
“Really?” Chenle asks.
“I think so. The only issue is that Jisung never got to return that book, so I can’t check for myself.” Renjun’s voice trails off at the end of his sentence, showing just how unsure he is of his words. “I think that it could make sense, at least for why your name was mentioned so randomly.”
An idea instantly appears in Chenle’s brain.
“I see,” Chenle says.
He needs to get that book.
“The lock on Jisung’s bedroom window is broken.” The folded piece of looseleaf paper in Chenle’s hand feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “We could get in like that.” He gazes out the car window, watching the houses speed by.
Breaking in is the only way that Chenle or Mark would ever be able to enter the Park household again. Mrs. Park hates Chenle now. She would never let him back in her home. She wouldn’t let Mark in, either. He and Jisung were only friends through Chenle—far from a relationship where it would be deemed appropriate for Mark to go over there on his own, let alone go inside Jisung’s room. Plus, his association to Chenle probably would cause Mrs. Park to hate him by proxy.
“We could also search for any weird materials that could be used for a spell, like incense and candles and stuff. Jisung and his mother were never into things like that.” The paper by itself might be ambiguous. The spell book looked like it had well over a thousand pages—Chenle doubts that there’s only one spell that requires someone to write a bunch of words on a piece of paper.
“I’m ready whenever you’re ready,” Mark says, ready to ride for Chenle, just like he always is.
When they arrive home, Chenle and Mark take a seat on the couch. Chenle finally unfolds the paper, exposing the short transcription of Renjun and Jisung’s exchange.
R — Hello, is this Jisung Park I’m speaking to?
J — Yes.
R — To prove that it’s you, Chenle said that I could ask ‘Who was his first boy crush?’
J — Jeno Lee in the 7th grade
R — Okay. Question one, was the paper found by the detectives a suicide note?
J — NO RESPONSE
R — Okay, Chenle said that he misses you
J — I miss him too
R — He asked if it had anything to do with him
J — No
R — Do you have anything else you want to say to Chenle before our time ends?
J — I’m sorry. I miss you. I’ll love you forever.
Barely any straight answers are given, but Chenle just hopes that Jisung knows that he loves him, too.
Chenle gives it a few days, wanting to wait until Mark is off again. Waiting for the day makes Chenle feel like he’s in limbo—just living and waiting. He watches television, which even gets boring after a while. Mark buys him a bunch of random items to try out in hopes of finding a hobby. Chenle tries needlepoint, but fucks it up after having a vision in the middle of doing it, so he lets it go.
Jisung’s mother lets out a deep sigh, like she’s been holding the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her hands reach back and gather up her long black hair, pulling it up into a messy bun. Mrs. Park has always said that she hates maintaining her long locks, but they make her feel youthful, so she never cuts her hair.
“What’s the matter with you?” Her voice is sharp and annoyed. Chenle’s taken aback.
“Huh?” Jisung gasps, disbelief present in his voice. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re so miserable.” Jisung is the target of Mrs. Park’s words, but they still manage to cut through Chenle like a knife. “You always mope around acting all sad all the time. Can’t you just try to be happy?”
Mrs. Park’s words are disgusting.
“Your father and I made so many sacrifices and worked so hard raising you, just for you to end up hating your life. Where are your friends? Where’s your girlfriend? You only hang out with Chenle, and he has a boyfriend and a social life. You seriously can’t plan to third wheel him forever.”
Jisung doesn’t respond, but his mother keeps going, pacing around the kitchen.
“It’s like I have a dead man walking in my house!”
“Mom…” Just by the lilt in Jisung’s voice, Chenle can tell that he was on the verge of tears. Mrs. Park isn’t so far off herself, tears welling up in her own eyes.
“My husband dies and I try to find some sense of normalcy, and my own son can’t even smile at me. Are you depressed or something?”
Jisung’s breath hitches.
Mrs. Park shakes her head, pacing out of the room. “Well you need to try and find something to be happy about, because I don’t know how you can live like this.”
When Chenle wakes up kneeling in the kitchen, being struck with the vision as he was heading to the fridge, he immediately realizes that he’ll ever be able to look at Mrs. Park the same.
“Dead man walking.”
“I don’t know how you can live like this.”
He already wasn't able to look at her the same after the things she said to him when Jisung died, but he excused her words, justifying it by saying that she was a grieving mother with no outlet. Her husband and son were gone—her family was gone.
But how could she say those things about her own son? Her own son that she suspected was depressed?
The only constants that Jisung had in his life were Chenle and his mother—and she said those things to him.
And now he’s gone. He’s really dead.
“Chenle?” Mark immediately drops the bags in his hands, kneeling down in front of him and pulling him in his arms. “Are you okay?”
Chenle feels the bile rising in his throat, burning as it comes up. He swallows it back down, but still feels too weak to stand up.
“I think I might hate her.” It’s probably not Chenle’s place to hate her, but he can’t contain the disgust he’s feeling right now.
Jisung, who couldn’t even say harsh words to the guys that made his life a living hell. Sweet and gentle Jisung who couldn’t even hurt a fly. He was so soft—he would let Chenle beat him in arm wrestles, or tackle him when they were roughhousing, just because he didn’t want to even risk hurting him.
Jisung, who apologized immediately after any spat he and Chenle had, even if Chenle was in the wrong, just because the guilt of whatever he said was too much for him to bear.
She said those horrible things to him, and now he’s dead. He killed himself.
“I hate her so much.”
Chenle stands in the shower, letting the water cascade down his body. Once he’s finished, he and Mark will be breaking into Jisung’s home to hopefully retrieve the spell book.
Mark’s been staying in the bathroom with him while he showers since the visions started, and usually they talk each other’s ears off. Chenle can’t bring himself to do that tonight, feeling so anxious that he can’t even speak.
“Are you alright?” Mark asks, his voice laced with concern. Chenle doesn’t answer, instead continuing to stare blankly at the wall.
When Chenle made the decision to pursue answers through Renjun, he chose to be skeptical for this very reason. It’s hard to be let down when your expectations are already at zero. He didn’t anticipate much, at least until he passed out while he was driving and had that vision, proving that Renjun was the real deal.
Despite having the visions, Chenle hasn’t yet gained the knowledge that he came in looking for, which is the truth of the suicide note. The visions have given him hope—hope that he almost wishes that he didn’t have, because that means that he has the opportunity to get hurt again.
If they get this spell book, and there’s no answers in there, then Chenle will never get the answers that he has desperately been looking for.
Mark pulls back the shower curtain, peering in to check on Chenle. “You’re not having a vision or anything in here, right?”
“No,” Chenle answers dryly. Mark’s eyes widen, and then he shuts the shower curtain. A heavy feeling begins to set in Chenle’s heart, him thinking that he hurt Mark’s feelings with his hostility.
“I thought that you might need a hug.” Mark peeks around the shower curtain again, naked this time, and then steps in.
Chenle does need a hug. Desperately.
“Hey,” Mark sings, wrapping his arms around Chenle’s waist and pulling him in. “Listen. No matter what we find tonight, just remember that Jisung loved you and it wasn’t your fault. Even if we don’t get all of the answers—those are indisputable facts. Never forget that. He said it himself.”
“We got this, we got this,” Mark chants quietly as they exit their home, squeezing Chenle’s hand. “Come on, don’t we got this?” He nuzzles his head into Chenle’s, egging him on to join in on the chanting.
“We got this,” Chenle chants weakly, feeling like he can’t say more without his voice cracking.
“Hey, that’s what I’m talking about.” Mark presses a kiss to the side of his head.
They decided to walk to Jisung’s home, believing that the car could be used to identify them if anybody happens to see them. They’re dressed like silly cat burglars, all black clothing with masks in their pockets, ready to be used.
The town is always pretty peaceful, even during the day. There’s a weird lack of teenagers in the town these days, so there’s not many running around and causing havoc like they would when they were kids. The thought makes Chenle miss when he was a teen, not worried about anything besides what he was doing with Jisung after school that day, and what he wanted to eat for dinner that night.
But as many of his more positive thoughts have been in recent days, the memory is corrupted by more painful ones. He wonders if Jisung was depressed when they were teenagers? Was he depressed all these years, and Chenle’s head was just too up in the clouds to notice? Could he have done more? Jisung wasn’t a gloomy person. Sure, he had his moments like everyone does, but should Chenle have known?
Mark tugs Chenle’s arm, pulling him out of his head.
“We’re almost there.”
The streets are dark. There’s not many street lights in their area, so they rely on the illumination from the moon, and the light from the few rooms in houses that still have them on.
Not a single light is on in the home. They pull their masks on and walk to the backyard, making sure that all of the lights are really off, and they are. Chenle then guides them to Jisung’s window, and then slowly opens it. They creep in, Mark turning on the flashlight and shining it around the room.
The room is clean—cleaner than Jisung has ever kept it himself.
His mother definitely tidied it up at some point.
Chenle reaches for the flashlight, and Mark hands it over to him easily. He shines it at the bookshelf, scanning the shelf for the book that he saw in his dream, and on the bottom shelf, he finds the large book shoved into it. He quickly gestures for Mark to come over, and then hands him the flashlight. Mark holds it in place as Chenle pulls the book out, and it is definitely as heavy as it looks.
“Let me hold it,” Mark whispers, picking up the book. Chenle agrees, taking the flashlight and exchanging it for the book. He shines the light around some more, searching for anything that seems like it could be used in some sort of ritual. He opens drawers, looks under the bed, and checks inside the closet—but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. No crystals, incense, suspicious letters, plants—anything at all.
Frustrated, Chenle decides to go. He doesn’t speak, just gesturing towards the window. Mark gets the message. Chenle hops out first, and then Mark hands him the book through the window, before jumping through himself. He shuts the window behind him, and then they get the hell out of dodge.
“Did you see anything weird?” Chenle asks as Mark grabs the book from his hands. Chenle is fine with carrying it all the way home, but Mark insists on holding it for him.
“Nah,” Mark sighs. “But has Jisung’s room always been that clean?”
Chenle chuckles softly at the question. “Hell no. I mean, he was never dirty, but his room was always a bit messy.”
“So his mom definitely cleaned things up. If there was anything odd in the room, then she probably threw it out or put it somewhere else in the house,” Mark suggests.
Chenle doesn’t blame Jisung’s mother for going through his room. She’s a grieving mother, and probably saw cleaning his room as an act of coping somehow.
But fuck, she just made things harder for them.
“Don’t worry,” Mark reassures. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
He might not be smart enough to figure this one out, though.
“Thanks.”
The moment that Chenle wakes up the next morning, he grabs the spell book and sits on the couch. He turns on some T.V. and grabs a sheet of paper and a pen. Today he’ll be skimming through the entire book, searching for any spell that may align with what was written on the ambiguous suicide note. It’s going to be tedious, but Chenle doesn’t think that he’ll be able to function if he doesn’t do this.
Before Mark leaves for work, he presses a kiss to Chenle’s forehead.
“Good luck. I believe in you.” He shoots Chenle a wide smile, and it’s contagious, one spreading onto Chenle’s lips as well.
“You’re making it seem like I’m doing something important, like running a marathon or something.”
“This is important to you, which means that it’s important to me.” He kisses Chenle again. “I’m gonna talk to one of my friends to see if they can help us out.”
Chenle raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Mark is one of those people. The one who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy. But he can’t figure out in what way one of Mark’s associates could help them out. Would they even wanna help Chenle out?
“You’ll know once I get home,” Mark answers, walking to the door. “Love you. See you later.”
Mark leaves, and as much as Chenle would love to sit there and dwell on what exactly he meant by ‘help,’ he has over a thousand pages to skim through, so he gets started.
After over eight hours of reading, taking notes and tabbing pages with a few breaks in between, Mark finally comes home.
“How’s it going? Did you find anything?” He sits down next to Chenle, holding his bag in his lap.
Chenle groans. He’s found a couple of spells that tell the user to write words on paper, but none of them really match what was written on the paper. There were quite a few love spells, and a hex, but the only instructions they had in common were the name in the middle. The words on the outside had no correlation to what the spells were asking for.
But he still has pages to go.
“Not much,” Chenle answers.
“These might help.” Mark reaches into his bag and pulls out a couple of photos. “My friend at the police station got a hold of these for me.”
Crime scene photos. They were taken just after the police arrived to Jisung’s home. There’s only three of them, because it was a suicide, after all. Not much evidence to be looked for—they were probably just taken as standard procedure.
But they help. A lot.
In the first photo, Chenle’s able to spot the note sitting on Jisung’s nightstand, surrounded by a few objects that can’t be seen that well. The next picture is a close up of the nightstand, showing the note and the objects around it.
There’s a burnt out candle, a flower, a partially burnt out stick of incense, and a lemon.
“That’s weird…” He looks at the next photo, which is just another angle of the room.
But this is enough. The items on the nightstand have to be related to whatever ritual he was doing.
“Thank you so much!” Chenle wraps Mark up in a big hug, squeezing him tightly.
“No problem.” Mark squeezes him back. “I’ll do anything for you.”
Mark sits with him as he continues to scan through the pages, now knowing exactly what he’s looking for.
Eventually Chenle finds that thing, and it’s bittersweet.
“Eternal happiness spell,” he reads out, matching each listed ingredient to the ones in the picture. “Jisung wanted to be happy.”
Mark leans over, looking at the writing along with Chenle. “ ‘Take a sheet of paper, and in the center, write something or someone that makes you happy. This spell will mimic the feelings evoked when you think of this thing. Around the center word, let out your negative feelings about yourself. We will dispel those feelings with this spell.’”
Eternal happiness. Jisung just wanted to be happy.
Chenle and Mark bring the spell book back to Renjun, and show him the crime scene photos. He takes a close look at the materials, before handing the photo back.
“Do you think that anything shady was up?” Chenle asks. He knows that it might be a dumb question, as the picture in front of him is pretty clear, but he just wants to know.
Renjun takes a deep breath in, eyes darting around the room like he’s nervous about what he’s about to say.
“The materials in the photo look like they had been sitting for days at that point, especially the flower. It was dead,” he says. “I think that he tried the spell and it didn’t work. And once he realized that it didn’t work…”
They all know what comes next.
Chenle’s nods. “That’s what we figured.” It was exactly what it looked like. Jisung was grasping for straws, knowing that there was no way out of his situation.
Maybe if he had confided in Chenle, they would’ve found a way.
“Thank you for everything.” Chenle’s glad that he took a chance on Renjun.
“Thank you for letting me help you.” Renjun smiles softly, grabbing Chenle’s hand and squeezing it. “I knew that things were different from what they initially seemed.”
And they were. Exponentially different.
When Mark and Chenle get home, they immediately sit down on the couch.
“How do you feel?” Chenle is pulled into a bone squeezing hug by Mark.
He can’t articulate himself well, feeling like he’s about to suffocate if he doesn’t let the sobs escape his throat.
“Hey.” Mark pulls Chenle’s head into his shoulder, and begins rubbing circles into his back. “Go ahead. Cry it all out. You deserved to do this a long time ago.”
Chenle doesn’t like to cry, but he lets the dam open. The tears are more so from relief, not sadness.
Chenle doesn’t intend on clearing his name, or running to a journalist and telling them the truth behind the note. He couldn’t care less about any of that at this point, because now that he knows that it really wasn’t his fault. He finally knows for sure that he wasn’t the reason that Jisung killed himself.
And Chenle wishes that Jisung would’ve talked to him. They could’ve figured something out together. Chenle never saw him as a burden, and he would’ve gotten him help—even if he had to go to the edge of the earth.
It’s too late, though.
Chenle will never fully understand why Jisung did it. He’ll never know the full extent of his personal problems, or the complexities of his relationship with his mother, or how long that he felt this way.
But at least their friendship was the thing that made Jisung happiest in the world.
Chenle feels that way, too. He’ll feel that way forever.