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When Chenle realises he’s in love with Park Jisung, it’s a Tuesday in late September and Jisung is asleep on his shoulder on the subway home. Jisung’s head is heavy, his black bangs tickling Chenle’s neck every time the train jolts.
He’s drooling a little on Chenle’s uniform blazer. His earbuds are still in, playing something low and sad — probably Oasis again — and one of his hands has somehow found its way to Chenle’s wrist, fingers loosely curled like he’s afraid Chenle will disappear if he lets go.
Chenle sits very still and stares at the reflection in the opposite window: two boys who have known each other since they were six, pressed together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His heart does something complicated. It flips, then sinks, then flips again. Like it’s trying to crawl out of his ribcage and into Jisung’s palm.
Oh, he thinks. Oh, fuck.
That night he lies awake until 4 a.m. googling “how to stop being in love with your best friend” and “is it normal to want to bite your best friend’s collarbone.” The internet is not helpful.
He decides to bury it. He’s good at burying things. He once buried an entire feelings journal in the school courtyard in seventh grade after Jisung found it and read the part where Chenle wrote “Park Jisung has the prettiest hands I’ve ever seen” forty-seven times. (They never found the journal. Chenle still has nightmares about future archaeologists discovering it.)
So he buries this too. Deep. Under twelve years of shared secrets and inside jokes and the way Jisung still calls him “Lele” when he’s drunk on two sips of soju. It works for exactly forty-seven days.
On the forty-seventh day, Jisung says, “I think I’m in love with Jeno-hyung,” and Chenle’s carefully constructed graveyard explodes.
He smiles. Nods. Says, “That’s great, Sungie,” in a voice that doesn’t shake at all. Then he goes home and throws up.
The thing about loving Park Jisung is that it’s always been easy. Too easy. Like breathing.
They met in first grade when Chenle’s family moved from Shanghai and he didn’t speak Korean yet. Jisung sat next to him, drew a dinosaur on the corner of Chenle’s notebook, and said, “It’s okay, I’ll teach you.” He did. Slowly. Patiently. With stickers and candy and the kind of gentleness that made Chenle’s six-year-old heart decide this boy was his forever person.
They grew up tangled together. Sleepovers that turned into living out of each other’s houses. Matching friendship bracelets that Jisung still wears even though the string is frayed to hell. Jisung teaching Chenle how to ride a bike. Chenle teaching Jisung how to swear in Shanghainese. Jisung crying into Chenle’s shoulder when his first girlfriend dumped him in ninth grade. Chenle pretending he wasn’t jealous.
Jisung has always been “emo” in the quiet way — black hoodies, headphones permanently around his neck, writing poetry in the margins of his math notes that Chenle pretends not to read but memorises anyway. He’s tall and awkward and has the softest heart Chenle has ever known, hidden under layers of sarcasm and self-deprecation.
Meanwhile, Chenle has always been loud to compensate. Bright colours, loud laughs, dragging Jisung into everything whether he wants to or not.
People call them the sun and moon. Chenle hates it. He wants to be Jisung’s everything, not just the light that makes him visible.
But now Jisung is glowing for someone else. Lee Jeno. Of course it’s Lee Jeno. Jeno with the puppy eyes and the gentle voice and the way he ruffles Jisung’s hair like it’s nothing. Jeno who will stay after practice to talk about obscure British rock with Jisung for hours. Jeno who texts Jisung good night even when they have practice until 11 p.m.
Chenle watches it happen in slow motion.
First it’s the blushing.
Then the constant mentions.
Then the gifts — Jeno gives Jisung a Spider-Man keychain and Jisung carries it everywhere like it’s made of gold.
Chenle wants to scream. He bought Jisung a limited-edition vinyl for his birthday and Jisung said thank you and hugged him and that was it.
Chenle tries to be normal. He really does.
He listens to Jisung ramble about how Jeno smiled at him in the hallway. He helps Jisung pick out outfits for their “not-date” movie hangout. He even — God forgive him — gives advice.
“You should sit in the back row,” he says, forcing a grin. “Better for… making out.”
Jisung goes scarlet. “We’re not gonna make out!”
But his eyes are hopeful, and Chenle wants to die.
Every night he goes home and adds another layer to the graveyard. Another shovelful of dirt over the thing in his chest that keeps screaming Jisung’s name.
He lasts two weeks before he breaks.It’s a Friday. They’re at Chenle’s house, supposedly studying for midterms. Jisung is sprawled on Chenle’s bed, headphones around his neck, scrolling through his phone with this soft little smile that makes Chenle’s stomach hurt.
“He texted me good morning,” Jisung says, not looking up. “With a heart.”
Chenle’s pencil snaps in his hand. “Cool,” he says. His voice sounds like gravel. Jisung finally looks up.
“Are you okay? You’ve been weird for like two weeks.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“Lele.”
The nickname breaks him. It always does.
“Do you even like him?” Chenle blurts out. “Like really? Or is it just because he’s hot and nice to you?”
Jisung blinks. “What?”
“I’m just saying… Maybe you’re confused. People get crushes on people who are nice to them all the time. Doesn’t mean it’s real.”
Jisung sits up slowly. “It feels real.”
Chenle laughs. It sounds ugly.
“Sure. Whatever.”
The silence that follows is awful. Jisung looks hurt, and Chenle hates himself more than he’s ever hated anything.
“I’m sorry,” Chenle says eventually. “I’m being a dick. I’m happy for you. Really.”
Jisung doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway.
They don’t talk about it again. But something has shifted. Chenle can feel it in the way Jisung hesitates before touching him now. In the way their silences used to be comfortable and now feel loaded.
Chenle lasts another week before he goes to Na Jaemin.Jaemin takes one look at his face and says, “Oh honey. You’re so fucked.”
They meet at a café after school. Jaemin buys him a strawberry frappuccino and listens to the entire pathetic story without interrupting once, which should have been Chenle’s first warning sign.When Chenle finishes — voice hoarse, eyes red — Jaemin leans back and says, “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do.”
“We’re not doing anything.”
“We’re doing everything. Plan Make Park Jisung Realise He’s Been In Love With You is officially a go.”
Chenle chokes on his drink. “He’s not—”
“He is. He’s just stupid. You’re both stupid. It’s perfect.”
The plan is terrible. It’s the worst plan in the history of plans. It has five phases and even a PowerPoint presentation with clipart hearts.
Phase 1: Subtle Reminders of Your History Together
Phase 2: Jealousy Induction (Light)
Phase 3: Physical Proximity Increase
Phase 4: Emotional Vulnerability Exposure
Phase 5: The Nuclear Option (Jaemin refuses to explain this one, just winks ominously)
Chenle should say no. He knows this is a bad idea. He knows this could destroy everything. but he says yes anyway.
Phase 1 starts the next day.
Chenle digs out every old photo he can find — them at six with missing teeth, them at ten covered in mud, them at thirteen when Jisung got his growth spurt and shot past Chenle overnight. He makes a playlist of all the songs they used to scream in karaoke rooms. He wears the cologne Jisung said smelled good in ninth grade.
Jisung notices. Of course he does.“You’re being nostalgic,” he says suspiciously when Chenle shows him a photo of them dressed as Mario and Luigi for Halloween.
“Just remembering the good times,” Chenle says, and tries not to sound like he’s dying.
It works, sort of. Jisung starts lingering closer again. Starts texting him good night first. Starts using the old emojis they made up when they were twelve. But he still talks about Jeno.
Phase 2 is worse.
Jaemin’s idea of “light jealousy induction” is apparently to flirt with Chenle in front of Jisung. Aggressively. It backfires spectacularly.
Jisung doesn’t get jealous. He gets quiet.
Withdraws. Starts sitting with Jeno at lunch instead of saving Chenle a seat like he always has. Chenle wants to scream.
He corners Jaemin in the bathroom and hisses, “This isn’t working, he hates me now.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Jaemin says calmly. “He’s realising he doesn’t like sharing you. Trust the process.”
Chenle doesn’t trust the process. The process is torture.
Phase 3 is where things start to crack.
Physical proximity increase sounds clinical. In practice, it’s Chenle falling asleep on Jisung’s shoulder during movie nights again. It’s Chenle hugging him goodbye and holding on a little too long. It’s Chenle grabbing Jisung’s hand in crowded hallways “so we don’t get separated.” Jisung lets him. Doesn’t pull away. Starts doing it back, almost unconsciously — fingers brushing Chenle’s when they walk, resting his head on Chenle’s shoulder on the bus, falling asleep with their legs tangled during study sessions.
But he still goes on dates with Jeno.
They’re not official. Jeno asked him to be his boyfriend and Jisung panicked and said he needed time. Chenle both hates and is grateful for this.
Phase 4 is the worst.
Emotional vulnerability exposure means Chenle stops pretending he’s fine.
It starts small. A quiet “I miss when it was just us” when they’re walking home. A shaky “You’re my favourite person, you know that, right?” when they’re drunk on stolen beer in Chenle’s bedroom.
Jisung looks at him like he’s seeing something for the first time.“I know,” he says softly. “You’re mine too.”
But then he goes and holds Jeno’s hand at the basketball game and Chenle throws up in the school bathroom again.
Winter comes. The graveyard in Chenle’s chest is frozen solid. They’re both suffering now.
Chenle can see it in the bags under Jisung’s eyes, in the way he flinches when Chenle touches him sometimes, like it burns.
They fight for the first time in twelve years and it’s so stupid.
Chenle makes a joke about Jeno that isn’t really a joke. Jisung gets mad. Says Chenle doesn’t get to be jealous when he’s the one who told him to go for it.
“I never told you to go for it!” Chenle shouts. “I told you to be happy and I lied because I thought that’s what you wanted!”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means I’m in love with you, you idiot!” Chenle yells, and then freezes.The silence is deafening. Jisung stares at him. His mouth opens, closes. Opens again. “Lele…”
“No,” Chenle says, backing away. “Forget I said anything. Just— forget it.”
He runs. They don’t talk for four days.
By day four of radio silence Chenle doesn’t sleep. He barely eats, barely speaks, and when anyone asks what’s wrong he answers “nothing” in a voice so broken no one pushes. His room looks like a war zone: bed unmade for days, clothes on the floor, the Day6 poster Jisung gave him for his sixteenth birthday half-torn from the wall because looking at it hurt too much. On the nightstand there’s an empty bottle of sleeping pills that never worked and a Polaroid of the two of them at fourteen, grinning with ice cream smeared on their faces. Chenle stares at it every night until tears blur the ink.
He’s counted. It’s been exactly 91 hours and 12 minutes since he screamed “I’m in love with you, idiot” and bolted.
Ninety-one hours in which his phone hasn’t vibrated once with the special cat notification tone he set for Jisung back in sophomore year as a joke — the one Jisung never changed.
At 2:07 a.m. on day four, it’s pouring like the sky wants to drown him.The doorbell rings.
Chenle is in boxers and one of Jisung’s old T-shirts (yes, he still sleeps in it because it smells like him and because he’s a masochist) when he pads barefoot down the stairs. His mom is asleep, his dad is away on business. He opens the door without checking the peephole because he doesn’t care anymore.
Park Jisung is standing there, soaked to the bone. Water streams down his face, down his black hair plastered to his forehead, down the grey hoodie Chenle gave him last Christmas that’s now so wet it clings to every line of his body. His lips are purple from the cold and his eyes are red, swollen, like he hasn’t slept in four days either.
He’s shaking. Chenle can’t tell if it’s the rain or something else.“Lele…” Jisung’s voice cracks on the second syllable.
Chenle wants to slam the door. Wants to scream. Wants to pull him inside and never let go.
Instead he just whispers, “What are you doing here?”Jisung swallows hard. Water drips from his chin like tears that aren’t his.
“I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep going without telling you you’re a liar.”
Chenle feels like he’s been punched in the gut.“What?”
“You told me—” Jisung’s fists clench “—you told me to forget it. To forget what you said. How the hell am I supposed to forget that, Chenle? How am I supposed to forget that the love of my life told me he loves me and then ran away like it burned him?”
Chenle opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.Jisung takes a step forward. He’s shaking harder. “I’m not in love with Jeno-hyung,” he says, and his voice completely shatters. “I tried. God, I tried so hard because I was terrified. Because I thought if I liked someone who wasn’t you, then we’d stay safe. That I wouldn’t ruin the only thing I’ve had since I can remember.”
Another step. He’s close enough to touch now. “But it’s not him. It was never him. Every time he smiled at me I thought ‘I wish this was Chenle.’ Every time he touched my hair I closed my eyes and pretended it was you. Every good-night text I sent him… I wanted to send it to you.”
Chenle feels the floor drop out from under him.“Jisung…”
“No—” Jisung shakes his head, tears mixing with the rain now “—don’t tell me it wasn’t real. Don’t tell me it was a mistake or you were angry or you didn’t mean it, because if you say that I’ll die right here, Chenle. I swear I will.”
Chenle is crying. He doesn’t know when it started, but he’s sobbing so hard his chest aches.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he whispers. “I love you. I love you so much it’s been killing me for months. I’ve loved you since we were twelve and you gave me your hoodie because I was cold. I loved you when you taught me to ride a bike and cried harder than me when I fell. I’ve loved you forever, Jisung. It’s always been you.”
Jisung makes a sound like his soul is being torn out. He lunges. They crash into each other so hard Chenle stumbles two steps back into the hallway. Jisung’s arms lock around him like he’s afraid Chenle will vanish. Chenle clutches his soaked back, buries his face in his neck, breathes in rain and the scent that’s always meant home. “I’m sorry,” Jisung sobs into his hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was such an idiot. I made you suffer so much—”
“You suffered too,” Chenle cries.
“I watched you suffer and I couldn’t do anything—”
“I was so scared,” Jisung whispers, trembling. “What if I lost you? What if I confessed and you rejected me and we were nothing? I’d rather die than lose you as my friend.”
Chenle pulls back just enough to look at him. They’re both wrecked: snot, tears, rain. Beautiful.“You were never going to lose me,” he says, voice raw. “Never. Even if you’d said you didn’t feel the same, I’d still be here. I’ll always be here.”
Jisung stares at him like he’s a miracle. “Really?” Chenle nods. His whole body is shaking.
Jisung lifts a trembling hand and cups Chenle’s cheek, thumb wiping away tears and rain.“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much I don’t know how I didn’t realise sooner. I love you since we were kids and you defended me from bullies even though you were smaller. I love you since you taught me how to say ‘I like you’ in Chinese and told me it was our secret. I’ve loved you forever, Lele. And I’m so sorry I made you wait.”
Chenle closes his eyes. The entire world narrows to Jisung’s cold thumb on his cheek and the frantic beat of his own heart.
“Kiss me,” he breathes. “Please.”
Jisung doesn’t wait. The first kiss is clumsy — teeth clacking, noses bumping, tears and rain on their lips. Then it turns desperate. Jisung pushes him against the hallway wall and Chenle fists his wet hoodie, opening his mouth, letting Jisung devour him. It tastes like four months of agony, twelve years of waiting, rain and forgiveness.
Jisung whimpers when Chenle bites his lower lip (something Chenle has wanted to do since they were fifteen) and Chenle’s knees nearly give out. They kiss until they can’t breathe. Until the storm outside is just background noise. Until the world disappears and it’s only them, shaking in the doorway of an empty house.
When they break apart — barely a centimetre — their foreheads stay pressed together.
“I love you,” Jisung repeats against his mouth, like he can’t stop. “I love you, I love you, I love you—”
Chenle laughs through tears. “Shut up and kiss me again.”
They do. They kiss until their lips hurt and their legs give out. They end up on the hallway floor, Jisung between Chenle’s legs, Chenle’s back against the wall, trading slower, softer kisses like they finally have all the time in the world.
Because they do.
Eventually Jisung starts shivering violently.“You’re freezing,” Chenle whispers, worried.“You too,” Jisung says, and smiles — small, shaky, but real. The first real smile in days.
Chenle stands, pulls him up.“Come on.”
He drags him upstairs to his room. Closes the door. Turns on the soft bedside lamp. Jisung stands in the middle, looking around like it’s the first time: the photos taped to the wall, the plushies they won together at the fair, the blanket they used to share during movie marathons.
Chenle grabs a towel and the biggest hoodie he owns (another one of Jisung’s, obviously). He peels the soaked hoodie off Jisung with careful hands. Jisung lifts his arms like a little kid. Chenle dries his hair, his neck, his shoulders, slow and reverent. Puts the dry hoodie on him. Jisung watches him the entire time without blinking. When Chenle finishes, Jisung takes his hands.
“Can I stay?” he asks, so quietly it’s almost inaudible.,Chenle nods. He doesn’t trust his voice.
They crawl into bed without changing further. Jisung curls into Chenle’s chest the way he always has, but this time it’s different. This time Chenle can run his fingers through damp hair and kiss his forehead without guilt. This time Jisung looks up at him like he’s the most precious thing in the universe.
“Never again,” Jisung whispers. “I’m never making you cry again. I swear.”
“Don’t you cry anymore either,” Chenle murmurs, wiping a tear from Jisung’s cheek. “It’s over. We have each other now.”
They kiss again. Slow. Sweet. Memorising.
They fall asleep tangled together, breathing the same air, hearts finally beating in sync for the first time in months.
They skip school the next day. They stay in bed until three in the afternoon, kissing lazily, laughing at how stupid they were, crying a little more because the hurt is still fresh — but now it’s the kind of hurt that heals.
Jisung confesses everything: how empty he felt every time he hung out with Jeno, how he forced himself to smile in photos because he thought it was the right thing, how the night Chenle screamed the truth he stared at the ceiling until sunrise and realised it had always, always been Chenle.
Chenle confesses the exact number of days he’s been aware of his feelings (and then admits he’s lying, it’s been years). He confesses how many times he threw up from the pain. How he saved every single one of Jisung’s notifications like oxygen.
They forgive each other for everything.
And they start again.
Phase 5, it turns out, was never needed.
Jaemin takes credit anyway. It was a beach trip in June, after graduation. And it’s supposed to be a celebration.
Everyone’s there — Mark, Donghyuck, Renjun, Jeno (who took the whole thing with grace and is now dating Jaemin, because of course), and twenty other classmates.
They rent a huge house right on the water. There’s alcohol, music, and a bonfire that gets dangerously big.
Chenle and Jisung have been together — officially, secretly, disgustingly — for four and a half months. They still haven’t told anyone. They like keeping it just theirs a little longer. They’re good at hiding it. Mostly. But they’re also very drunk.
It starts with shots. Continues with Donghyuck daring everyone to play truth or dare like they’re fourteen again.
Jaemin, evil genius that he is, takes control of the bottle. It lands on Chenle. Then Jisung. Over and over.
“Seven minutes in heaven,” Jaemin declares with unholy glee when it lands on them for the third time. “Pantry. Now.”
They go.The pantry smells like spices and sunscreen. It’s dark and too small and perfect. The door clicks shut. Seven minutes starts.
Jisung presses Chenle against the shelves immediately.
“Hi,” he whispers against Chenle’s mouth.
“Hi” Chenle whispers back, and then they’re kissing like they’ve been starving for it.
They have been. They always are.
“I love you,” Jisung says between kisses. “So much. So fucking much.”
“I know,” Chenle says, crying a little. Happy tears this time. “I love you too.”
They don’t make it the full seven minutes. They stumble out at four, hair wrecked, lips swollen, holding hands like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The entire room erupts in cheers. Jaemin bows like he personally invented love. Later, on the beach, Jisung pulls Chenle down between his legs, arms tight around his waist, chin on his shoulder. “Look,” he says, pointing at the sky. The stars are obscene tonight. Like someone spilled diamonds across black velvet.
Chenle thinks about graveyards and forty-seven days and every tear he ever shed for this boy.
Then he thinks about this: Jisung’s heartbeat against his back, steady and real and his.Worth it, he decides. Every single second.
Jisung kisses the side of his neck, soft and reverent. “Lele?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for waiting for me to stop being such an idiot.”
Chenle laughs, wet and happy. “You’re still an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” Jisung says.
Chenle turns in his arms, kisses him slow and sweet under the stars.“Yeah,” he whispers. “Mine.”
They stay there until dawn, trading kisses and secrets and twelve years of almosts that finally, finally became.