Work Text:
Chenle has been down bad for Lee Donghyuck for exactly two years, three months and twelve days, he knows because he circled that date in red ink the night of the sophomore festival and never scrubbed it off.
He was standing in the crowd, Jaemin’s arm slung over his shoulders, watching Hyuck own the stage with the dance team—sweat catching the lights like glitter, laughing mid-spin when Mark caught him by the waist and dipped him like it was straight out of a drama. Chenle’s heart was going so feral he legit thought he was gonna hurl right there. Renjun, standing behind him, just cackled and whispered “poor Chenle” like the little gremlin he is.
After that it was just… quiet suffering. Watching Hyuck and Mark become That Couple™ everyone wanted to be. Hyuck leaning into Mark’s side in the cafeteria like he was made to fit there. Them making out behind the gym like nobody could see (spoiler: Chenle could, and he pretended he didn’t).
But here’s something nobody knows (except Jaemin, because that bitch knows everything): before all of that, they actually had a thing. Summer before sophomore year. Thrown together on festival committee hell. Endless nights in the art room, paint on their fingers, sharing earbuds while Hyuck butchered Red Velvet songs. One night it was pouring and Hyuck walked him home. Under the flickering neon of the closed convenience store, Hyuck kissed him—soft, unsure, tasting like peach gum. Chenle kissed back like his life depended on it.
What followed after that where three weeks of texting 24/7. Secret hallway smiles. Hyuck sliding notes into Chenle’s locker that just said “thinking of u <3” with the ugliest little sun doodle. Staying up till 4 a.m. just to spam each other memes.
And then Chenle fucking panicked.
He’d never kissed a guy before. His parents kept asking when he’d bring home a “nice girl.” The basketball team threw around slurs like confetti. So instead of talking like a normal person, Chenle did the most spineless thing possible: he ghosted Hyuck. Hard.
Watched the texts go from
“lele u good?”
to “did i do smth wrong??"
to one last message three months later: "ok… i get it. take care, le <3"
Chenle read every single one and still didn’t reply because he was a freaking coward.
When school started again, Hyuck wouldn’t even look at him. Chenle told himself it was fine, just a summer fling, not a big deal. Lied so hard he almost believed it. Six months later he realized he was full-on pathetic for someone who (rightfully) hated his guts. He tried to fix it—cornered Hyuck after practice, tried to explain, begged for a second chance— but Hyuck just smiled that polite, icy smile and said “hey, Chenle” in the same tone he used with teachers. Wall up. Done.
Senior year rolls around and Hyuck is dating Mark Lee. Like, disgustingly perfect Mark Lee. And Chenle has to watch it every single day.
Then one rainy October morning, Park Jisung walks into homeroom looking like he just crawled out of a 2007 MySpace emo phase. Dark blue long-sleeve under a short-sleeve "Panic! At The Disco" tee, black flare pants that weren't too baggy but not too tight either, with those emo belts and wrist bands, earbuds dangling, his bag full of My Chemical Romance pins and bangs so long they cover his eyes. He stands at the front staring at the floor, clutching his transfer sheet like it’s a death sentence while Mrs. Kim beams like she manifested him. “Class, this is Park Jisung. Fresh from Busan. Be nice.”
Only empty seat? Next to Chenle. Obviously.
Jisung slides in, pulls out a beat-up copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and hides.
Chenle stares. Jisung is… everything Donghyuck isn’t. Pale where Hyuck is sun-kissed. Quiet where Hyuck is loud. Dressed like he’s about to cry to Helena in a Hot Topic bathroom. Perfect, Chenle thinks. Operation Get-Over-Lee-Donghyuck launches today.
He leans over. “Heyy, I'm Chenle.”
Jisung flinches so hard his earbuds fall out. Up close his eyes are huge and panicked. “Uh, H-hey.”
“So… Perks stan?” Tiny nod.
“Sick. Patrick’s my guy.” Jisung blinks like it’s a test question. “…I like Charlie.” Chenle grins.
“cool... suits you, like in a good way, ha.”
It’s the cringiest flirt alive but Jisung still goes tomato-red and ducks behind his book.
Phase one: technically complete. Except it sucks. Spectacularly.
Two weeks straight Chenle tries—saves the seat, shares airpods, drags him to lunch with Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno (who turns out to be Jisung’s cousin and keeps side-eyeing them like he’s onto something). And Jisung is stupidly sweet. Like, painfully. Remembers Chenle hates tomatoes and picks them out without asking. Sends 2 a.m. TikToks of cats falling with just “this u”. Lets Chenle copy his lit notes even though his handwriting looks like ransom letters.
But Chenle still dreams about Hyuck’s laugh. Still feels his stomach drop when Hyuck waves in the hallway. So he keeps trying to force the crush. Tells himself if he just hangs out enough, it’ll click. And takes exactly one month for the plan to blow up in his face in the best-worst way possible.
They’re in the library after school “studying” (Chenle watching Jisung chew his pen while highlighting MCR lyrics in his chem notebook).
“Did you know Gerard Way went to art school in New York?” Jisung says out of nowhere.
“No way, really?”
“Yeah. SVA. I… kinda wanna apply there. Illustration.” Chenle blinks. “You draw?”
Jisung shrugs, ears pink. “Little bit.”
Flips the notebook. It’s Chenle. Laughing his head off, exactly like when Jaemin says something dumb. And it’s the most beautiful fucking thing Chenle’s ever seen. Soft lines, careful shading and a tiny half-erased heart in the corner like Jisung prayed nobody would notice.
Chenle’s throat closes. “Uh.”
Jisung snatches it back, mortified. “It’s dumb, forget—”
“It’s not dumb,” Chenle croaks. “It’s… insane. In a good way.” Jisung stares at his hands.
That night Chenle lies in bed and realizes, with growing horror, his heart is racing for a completely different reason. He’s actually into Park Jisung. Like, real-into-him into him. The sweaty-palms, replay-his-voice-in-your-head, butterflies-on-crack kind. And He’s so fucked.
Meanwhile across town Jisung is having the same meltdown, just quieter. He’s never been down bad since week one. Chenle is loud, bright, fearless, and terrifyingly pretty. Drags him to basketball games even though crowds make Jisung wanna die. Belts Fall Out Boy in Jeno’s passenger seat (songs Jisung personally curated for him). Sends good-morning texts with 47 emojis long. Jisung is scared of him. And also scared of how not-scared he is.
He starts leaving little gifts on Chenle’s desk. Chocolate brownies to snack together in claas. MCR guitar pick. Mixtape labeled “for when u wanna discover new music like a posser (which is always)”.
Chenle never says anything. Just smiles that stomach-flipping smile and tucks them into his backpack like treasure.
The winter formal is the breaking point.
Chenle wasn’t gonna go (too many couples, too much Mark-Hyuck perfection), but Jaemin literally drags him.
“C’mon bro, you have to go.”
“Jae, you know why I can’t—”
“Sure it’s still Haechan?” Jaemin smirks, waggling eyebrows. “W-what are you implying—”
“Chenle, I’m not blind. You and Jisung would be disgustingly cute together.”
“That’s a lie.” Chenle goes full tomato. Jaemin cackles. “Put on something cute. Jeno said he’s making Jisung go too…”
“R-really? I mean… cool, whatever… think stripes tie would look good?”
“You’re so gay.”
Jisung shows up because Jeno blackmails him (“last year of high school, you owe me moral support”). All black everything, red tie, black-and-white wristbands—peak emo vampire vibes. Chenle sees him across the gym and his heart straight up stops. “Hey,” he breathes. “You came.” Jisung shrugs, hands in pockets. “Jeno hyung said he’d disown me.”
“yeah... Jaemin kinda did the same. You look cute tho.”
Jisung blinked nervously and a small blush appeared on his face. “Uh— you... y-you look good too.”
Chenle laughs, shaky. “Dance with me?”
“I suck—”
“It’s a slow song. Just swaying. I got you.”
They end up in the corner by the bleachers. Chenle’s hands on Jisung’s waist, Jisung’s arms stiff around his shoulders like he’s scared to break him. Chenle feels Jisung’s heartbeat going 200 bpm against his own.
“This is so dumb,” Jisung mumbles into his shoulder. “Everyone’s staring.”
“Let them.”
Jisung pulls back just enough to look at him. Fairy lights everywhere, some sappy love song playing, Chenle looking unfairly pretty—eyes shining, cheeks flushed. “Chenle,” Jisung whispers, voice cracking. “I— I really—”
Chenle kisses him.
Soft. Careful. Like Jisung’s made of glass. Tastes like spiked punch and mint gum and two years of waiting to be over. When they pull apart Jisung’s eyes are huge. “Sorry—” Chenle starts. But Jisung kisses him back—harder, desperate, hands fisting Chenle’s shirt like he might disappear. When they finally break, both panting, Jisung laughs—wet, shaky, happy. “I thought you were still in love with Donghyuck hyung.”
Chenle grimaces. “I was the dumbest dork alive.”
“You were,” Jisung agrees, then softer, “But you’re gonna be my dumb dork now, right?” Chenle’s smile could power the city.
“Yeah. I definitely will.”
Later they’re sitting on the bleachers sharing Chenle’s suit jacket because Jisung forgot his, Chenle’s head on his shoulder, looking at the people. “For the record,” he murmurs, “you’re a million times better than any crush I’ve ever had.” Jisung hides his face in Chenle’s hair, smiling so hard it hurts. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting go.”
Across the gym Donghyuck catches Chenle’s eye and gives him a tiny thumbs-up. Mark, hanging off his back, mouths “finally” with a grin and Chenle flips them off. Jisung’s laugh vibrates warm against his ear.
Outside it starts snowing. They stay until the lights come on and the janitor kicks them out—They stumble out of the gym into the snow, cheeks flushed, fingers laced. Still buzzing from the kiss and the music and the fact that the world didn’t end when they finally did it.
It’s freezing. Their breath comes out in little white clouds. Chenle tugs Jisung’s sleeve. “Wanna crash at my place? It’s literally five minutes away and I’m not letting you freeze your emo ass off waiting for the late bus.” Jisung stops under a streetlight, snowflakes catching in his bangs. He blinks up at Chenle, nervous as hell (he’s been to Chenle’s house a million times, but never like this). “C-Cool,” he stammers, cheeks burning brighter than the red tie still hanging crooked around his neck. “Lemme just text my mom real quick.”
Ten minutes later they’re kicking off snowy shoes in Chenle’s hallway, trying to be quiet because his parents are asleep. Chenle drags Jisung upstairs, shuts the bedroom door, and suddenly the air feels different. Thicker. Electric.
They’ve kissed two times tonight already (three if you count the tiny one Chenle stole in the coat check line), and every single one has left Chenle shaky and stupid.
Now they’re on his bed, half-sitting, half-collapsing, limbs everywhere. Somehow Jisung ends up in his lap (not planned, just gravity and bad decisions). Knees bracketing Chenle’s hips, hands gripping his shoulders like he’s scared Chenle might vanish. Chenle’s palms slide under the hoodie, thumbs brushing warm skin just above the waistband of Jisung’s jeans. They kiss like they’re trying to make up for lost time. Slow, filthy-sweet, deep enough to bruise. The kind of kisses that taste like confession. Jisung pulls back an inch, lips swollen, eyes blown-out eyes, hair wrecked from Chenle’s fingers. “Chenle,” he whispers, like it hurts. Chenle drags him closer, mouth against his ear. “Yeah?”
“I wanna—” Jisung’s voice cracks. He buries his face in Chenle’s neck, breath hot. “I wanna stay like this. Forever.” Chenle’s heart does something violent and soft at the same time. “Then stay.”
They don’t have sex or something (not tonight). They’re both too new at this, too scared of fucking it up. But they touch like they’re trying to memorize every inch by heart. Chenle mouths along Jisung’s throat until he’s trembling and making these tiny wrecked sounds. Jisung’s hands slip under Chenle’s shirt, tracing his spine like he’s reading secrets in braille.
Eventually they collapse sideways, tangled and perfect. Even though Jisung is a whole skyscraper taller, he wiggles until he’s the little spoon (his own idea, shyly mumbled into Chenle’s collarbone). Chenle locks an arm around his waist, palm flat over his stomach, legs slotted together. Jisung’s back pressed to Chenle’s chest, heartbeat thumping steady against Chenle’s ribs.
“I used to dream about this,” Jisung whispers into the dark, so quiet Chenle almost misses it. “Before I even knew you. Someone holding me like I wasn’t… disposable.”
Chenle tightens his grip until there’s no space left between them. “You’re not disposable. You’re everything.”
Jisung turns in the circle of his arms until they’re nose-to-nose. “I really, really like you, Chenle.” Chenle kisses him soft and slow.
“I like you too. So much it’s stupid.”
Jisung huffs a wet little laugh and kisses him again, and again, until they’re dizzy. They fall asleep wrapped around other like climbing vines, snow still melting in their hair.
Morning sunlight sneaks through the blinds. Chenle wakes up to Jisung staring at him, all soft and sleepy and unfairly pretty. “Creep” Chenle croaks, voice wrecked. Jisung smiles, shy and smug at the same time.
“You drool.”
“You snore.”
“You steal blankets.”
“You kick.”
“You’re gay.”
“You're like super gay.”
They’re grinning like absolute idiots. After laughing, Chenle reaches out, tucks a strand of Jisung’s messy hair behind his ear. “Do... you wanna be my boyfriend? like for real?” Jisung’s smile could power the entire city grid.
“Yes,” he says, voice cracking on pure joy. “A thousand times yes.”
Chenle kisses him again (slow, lazy, morning-breath and all), and thinks: Yeah. This is what healing feels like.
Two years, three months, twelve days crushing on the wrong person. One perfect night crushing on the right one.
And this time Chenle isn’t ghosting anyone ever again.