Work Text:
It starts after Minhyuk, his boyfriend of a little over a year, breaks up with him over WeChat. Not even one goddamned phone call.
A break-up like that felt primarily almost like a kind of grief. Imagine: the only one he’d ever loved in his short life suddenly gives him nothing but silence. No communication, no email, no returning his pathetic calls. Just punitive silence.
The stress congealed in him, forming hollow, dark bags under his eyes and rough bumps neatly tucked under his nose. He’d been blessed with an uneventful puberty, skipping the awkward phase almost all his peers had, the one where their cheeks grew angry red spots almost overnight while he was left bright-eyed and clear-skinned. Now, it was as if all the years he’d skated by spot-free had caught up, triggered by heartache.
Jeno tilts his chin up with a careful hand, carefully inspecting the patch of skin under Renjun’s nose, no doubt growing exasperated at Renjun’s drunken whining—Jeno, it’s so fucking ugly, what the fuck, how the hell am I supposed to get a rebound looking like this.
“What are you talking about? I can barely see it. It’s like… whiteheads or something. Definitely not pimples. I would know.”
Renjun snorts. “You would know? Please, Mr. I-came-out-my-mom’s-womb-with-perfect-vampire-skin Lee.”
Jeno almost chokes on his soju, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder. “Why is that so hard to believe? I wasn’t a good-looking kid.”
“Somehow I highly doubt that.”
Jeno sounds hilariously indignant. “Really! We only met in highschool so you wouldn’t have known, anyway. I was this awkward, gangly kid who was always a little hunched.”
That may have been so; Renjun could picture Jeno at ten or twelve and on the cusp of his teen years, toothy smile looking strange on his plump cheeks. The years had obviously been kind to Jeno. He’d grown tremendously into his looks. What probably once looked like long weeds sprouting from a stringy body were now shapely legs and strong arms, blue-green veins stark against glowing skin when he flexed his limbs just so; what was once an average face had now transformed into a jawline cut from marble and eyes that had the otherworldly ability to transport your soul into the void if you stared long enough.
Jeno was an Adonis on earth.
And Renjun, well.
If you asked the girls he’d tried to date when he still playing the part of the happy hetero, they’d probably say he was cute. If you asked the guys he’d tried to get with (not that there were a lot) his face was maybe passable on a good day. Not that any guy had ever told him this in explicit terms (his ex-boyfriend had told him he was ‘pretty’ and ‘looked like a bottom, acted like a vers, but made out like a top’— whatever the fuck that meant), but hey. His face got him the occasional cute guy. Not Jeno-level, of course, because no one was Jeno-level, but some were close enough.
“Pfft. I don’t get it. Why isn’t soap and water doing the trick?” Renjun flops onto his back, settling on the carpet. The back of his shirt rides up, exposing his stomach to the cool air. Jeno’s piercing stare follows his every move, but Renjun thinks it’s just a trick of the light when Jeno’s eyes darken a fraction. “You think he broke up with me ‘cos I didn’t wash my face enough?”
“He broke up with you because he was an asshole who doesn’t know how to appreciate the best thing that’s ever happened to his sorry loser life. And assholes like him don’t deserve the best. We told you so,” Jeno says evenly.
Jeno had never liked Minhyuk, but he’d been civil enough. On a good day. On the truly bad days, however, like whenever he and Minhyuk would make up after one of their frequent verbal spars, Renjun was lucky if the ensuing night out with friends didn’t end with Jeno and his erstwhile boyfriend in a near fist fight. They’d spit out the most passive-aggressive, sarcastic barbs they could come up with - from You don’t really look the type of guy who gives a fuck what anyone thinks, and yeah, that includes Renjun to Oh, how’d you know that little tidbit? I thought all models were airheads. Renjun had heard it all, and was honestly surprised by how utterly vicious his usually gentle best friend would get in his ex’s presence.
“I didn’t want to say it like this, but you knew this was coming. Honestly, Renjun. What’d you expect?” Jeno continues.
Renjun contemplates Jeno’s words, brows drawing together. His fingers rasp over the smooth surface of his phone lying on his bellybutton, his other hand thumbing the lid of his drink, his fourth of the night. Finally, he sighs into the air; he doesn’t have the strength to cry anymore and would rather lie down or feel the pleasant buzz coursing through his limbs, both of which he was doing at this very moment.
“Yeah, I guess. I really should’ve listened. Maybe… maybe he got tired of my face, is all.”
Jeno presses his lips together, jaw tensing. He looks at Renjun with something akin to sadness. “Jun, you know that’s not it. Besides, you—“
“Me?”
“Yeah. This,” Jeno gestures vaguely to his face, then down his body. His long fingers, soft and warm, walks up to Renjun’ face. Renjun giggles despite himself. “You’re beautiful. As fuck,” he emphasizes, reddened mouth popping at the last syllable.
Renjun rolls his eyes, ignoring the flush creeping up his cheeks. Jeno’s words and his slow, careful touch spools into something achingly soft in Renjun - something he’d rather not think about right now, or maybe ever. This is one of the reasons he and Minhyuk had unravelled, after all; he had always been suspicious of his close relationship with Jeno.
“Shut up, you’re drunk.”
“You are, though.” Jeno’s voice goes low and husky as he looks down at Renjun. Something stirs in Renjun’ stomach, not entirely unwelcome, but still. This is too soon, too dangerous.
He stands up abruptly, wobbling on his feet. The ghost of Jeno’s warm touch lingers on his cheek. “I’m gonna go wash my face.”
Jeno makes a slight grunt of acknowledgement as he heads straight for the shared bathroom in their flatshare. There, as he’s washing his hands, he runs cold water over his wrists for a while to sober himself up. He scruffs his hair back, lets the light fill his eyes for a minute, and that’s when he spots it. The shelf with an array of Donghyuck and Yangyang’s skincare products, sometimes colorful but often clear little bottles with labels proclaiming it a facial wash, serum, oil, toner—what the fuck is a toner—masks, and other assorted knickknacks and baubles.
He picks up what looks like like a small massage tool barely longer than his index finger, two oval shaped green stones on either end. On the handle is a lightly carved inscription: Jade Facial Roller. Oh-kay, he has absolutely zero idea why you’d wanna run little green stones over your face, but go figure. Still, there must be a reason why both Donghyuck and Yangyang had no breakouts, whiteheads or otherwise, even if he knew for a fact that Donghyuck barely changed his pillowcases and that Yangyang had the habit of putting his face into his hands whenever he was feeling sad or stressed.
In his semi-drunken state, he has the half the mind to just scurry on out, maybe lie back on the couch this time, stare at Jeno’s face as he drinks his fifth bottle.
But. Ugh. His face. Those stupid fucking whiteheads under his dumb too-straight nose. Maybe if he made them go away Minhyuk would know what a dumbass he really was for letting him go. For leaving him on this terrible shore of loneliness, unsure of where to swim next or if someone would be waiting for him if he sank below the water.
The keywords, of course, are half the mind. So instead, he fumbles for the phone in his backpocket and sets it up awkwardly on the shelf, making it stand upright against a huge bottle of Laboratoires Klorane, whatever that was.
He taps on instagram live, and begins what can only be described as the classiest of classy insta lives.
“So I don’t really know why I’m doing a live because I don’t really do this kinda shit, honestly.”
His eyes dart back and forth to two particular tubes on the shelf - Malin + Goetz Clarifying Clay Mask and Fresh Umbrian Clay Purifying Mask.
“But I guess… I wanna say a nice little fuck you to my ex. I think he broke up with me ‘cos I have these little annoying white things under my nose. I guess these make me uglier or something, I dunno. But I’m cute when I’m not having these stupid off days.”
He squats a little and tips his head back to show the camera the skin under his nose. He grabs the tube nearest to him, uncaps the opening and begins to squirt some of the goop on his fingers.
“My flatmates always tell me - although I never really listened, honestly - that masking just makes everything better. Your face, your mood, maybe even your personality? I assume they’re talking about this stuff—“ He holds the tube up to the camera. “— and not actual masks like the ones you use for carnivals and masquerade balls or some shit. I guess you’re supposed to rub this stuff all over your face and it makes your pores smaller? Hey, if it makes stuff smaller… maybe if I rub this on my ex it’ll make his ego smaller, too? Overcompensating much? Shoutout to my ex’s tiny nether regions, flat ass, and low stamina, y’all!”
He snickers at his own joke, then proceeds to put the heavy grey substance all over his cheeks, then to his nose, upper lip, chin, and forehead in slow, circling motions. It feels… weird, but not unpleasant. Just weird.
“Anyway, I hope it clears up these whiteheads, they’re annoying as fuck and they make me look not cute at all. Let’s be honest, when you’re not cute, you get like, seventy percent less chance of a random hook-up when you go to a party… don’t ask me how I know that statistic. I just do, okay.”
Then the strangest sensation occurs: the goop begins to harden on his face. He feels it suffocating his skin like cement drying on a hot pavement - and promptly begins to have a minor freakout.
“What the actual fuck? Why is this getting hard? No one told me masks got hard like dicks?!”
Jeno’s there at the door in what seems like an instant. “Yah, Jun? Are you okay?”
“Jeno! Get in here! There’s something hard on my face! It’s like dried cum if it like, died, was preserved, and got mixed with asbestos! Why did no one tell me?!”
Mini-meltdown aside, he does get Jeno cradling his face in his hands, gently washing his face with a towel doused in warm water, and fussing over him like a particularly concerned significant other proxy.
He can’t complain too much when Jeno also laughs and tells him he’s panicking and shrieking like a hedgehog with its spikes out, and that he’d watched the last minute of his instagram live at the precise moment his face started to show signs of distress, which was how he’d known to rush to Renjun’s aid.
Like with most stupid things Renjun has done in his life (skating on one foot, eating a taco sprinkled with way too much ghost pepper, getting a boyfriend who maybe didn’t give two shits about him), he couldn’t ever predict when or if it would change his life. And he definitely couldn’t have seen this particular development coming from even a million miles away.
.
By some stroke of irony, luck, or simply the universe’s sick joke, Renjun’s little fluke of an instagram live goes viral.
HEARTBROKEN BOY COMPARES MASKING TO DICKS AND THE INTERNET AGREES - SEE THE FULL VIDEO UNDER THE JUMP reads the embarrassing headline of an article from a skincare blog that Jaemin gleefully links in their group chat. Chinese cutie roasts his ex and compares a Malin+Goetz HARD clay mask to another HARD thing says the clickbait Buzzfeed article that Chenle copies and pastes to their own private chat, sparing his dignity for a full hour before Jaemin gets a hold of it and posts the link to their groupchat, too.
To say it’s a bit nuts is an understatement. He was fucking drunk, for fuck’s sake. How is he supposed to predict that his stupid live would get him tens of thousands of followers in a matter of days, engagement statistics that even actual celebrities would kill for, and—get this—offers to appear on fucking television.
What would he even say? Hi, I swear I’m not actually obsessed with penises no matter how many times I said dicks on instagram, he’d stutter, smiling nervously at the camera like an idiot.
“You’re an influencer now, congrats,” Jeno says over lunch precisely three days later. Not that Renjun is particularly enthused; he’s almost sulky as he pushes his soggy fries around the plate.
They’re in one of the cafes they both love to frequent: Renjun for the food and Jeno for the coffee. Today though, Renjun is acutely aware of people whispering behind their table, looking at him and at Jeno in turns. People looked at Jeno wherever they went, so that’s old hat - but people looking at Renjun? That could only because of one thing, and Renjun isn’t sure if he likes it.
“You should take advantage of it, earn a little extra on the side.” Jeno ducks his head, voice turning quiet. “You’d be able to pay your share of the rent on time without having to rely on your dad.”
Renjun sighs. That was true; he didn’t want any handouts anymore from his dad, not after he’d married and been too busy with his new wife and kids to transfer funds on time. He had a part-time gig working as a clerk at a vinyl store, but that was barely enough to cover rent, books in University, and basic necessities. Even during their weekly lunches, it would be Jeno begging to try new restaurants or get bigger, more filling meals - all with Jeno paying, of course. Not only did Jeno have money from his modeling, but he was basically a trust fund baby, though he’d deny this to hell and back, saying his mother “was only a pro-bono lawyer” and his father “just worked at a small start-up." Nevermind his mother being partner at her own firm and his father owning a huge stake in one of the most successful cloud companies in Seoul.
Having Jeno pay for meals is one thing, but Jeno offering to pay huge chunks - sometimes even a hundred percent - of his rent? No way. Jeno’s been wracking his brain trying to find ways to help Renjun without it seeming like charity, and Renjun knew he’d see this as one such opportunity.
“Say I did try doing this… thing,” Renjun begins, frowning at the ketchup down his plate. “What would I even say? Who’d wanna see me?”
“Jun,” Jeno sighs the sigh of a good-natured, yet perpetually set-upon best friend. “You already have the audience. Last I checked, you’d surpassed 150,000 followers. That’s a huge deal! You just had like, what, 2,000-ish before? That’s fast growth, and I mean speed of lightning fast.”
“That’s nothing compared to you, though. You’re like nearing a million,” he points out.
Jeno shrugs in typical nonplussed-at-online-fame Jeno fashion. “Well, yeah. But I’ve been at this thing for about three years now. It’s grown organically over time. But you! Now that’s amazing.”
Renjun runs his fingers through his hair, Jeno’s assurances doing little to assuage that nagging voice inside his head telling him he’s way in over his head, that is just a flash in the pan thing for him.
“Granting that I somehow churn out content. Influencers have the looks. Like you. I mean, look at you - of course, you’d have a million people salivating over your photos Not like me. I’m pretty average—and that’s not like a self-deprecating thing. I just mean I’m average compared to the standard so-called influencer.”
Jeno watches Renjun’s face as he rambles, eyes soft and soothing, but not quite able to disguise the sharp, protective part of him that lurks underneath, ready to strike down any hint of Renjun’s insecurities.
“I might have to say this to you a million times, but trust me. You’re not average.” Jeno’s lips quirk up in a wry smile tinged with a hint of rosy nostalgia. “How else would I’ve been able to notice you—and only you—all those years ago?”
.
Everything that follows is maybe due to him giving in to peer pressure. Jaemin’s particularly excited about it, shaking him by the shoulders and babbling nonsense like why hadn’t I seen your potential before and oh my gosh Renjun, what were you talking about in that live, your face is absolutely flawless. He gives the thing a try and uploads a new video to instagram live a few hours after that lunch. This time, he further showcases his ineptness at skincare by rubbing his face with one of Donghyuck’s facial washes and washing it off after ten seconds after the foam gets into his mouth.
He doesn’t mean to, but he blurts out, “Fuck, this tastes worse than ass” after coughing out the soapy taste on his tongue, and his live explodes with comments.
omG Renjun eats ass CONFIRMED
rimming >>>> facial washes gays take note
you are so hOOTTT marry me pls
i’ll eat YOUR ass like a champ
Thirsty comments aside, the live isn’t so disastrous after all as it gains him thousands of followers in a matter of hours. It’s reposted by both joke blogs, skincare accounts, and self-care proponents on instagram. He sees his face on accounts like @allure and @intothegloss, hailing him as a ‘refreshing’ and ‘honest’ look into what an ‘average user’ of skincare products (though he’d argue he could hardly be called a ‘user’ at this point, a passing visitor would be more accurate) would do or say without the pretense of what the articles called ‘keeping up with things like a 15-step skincare routine’.
He pauses to do a double take. Okay, people followed 15 freaking steps to cleaning their face? No way. There’s just no way a sane person would do that.
He says as much in his next live two days later, arguing that 15 steps were way too much for the everyday person.
“I’d probably fall asleep at, like, the fifth step,” he says into the camera, massaging some moisturizing jojoba oil into his cheek. “See, I wash my face, tone it just like Yangyang told me to do, then moisturize… again, because Yangyang told me to. No, Yangie is not my mom, he’s my roommate. That’s seriously all I do. None of that 15-step stuff —“
He cuts himself off, squinting at the array of comments rapidly flying across the screen.
“Okay, what the hell is a serum and why are you all telling me to put some on before the oil? And what the fuck is a snail face mask?”
.
One unsurprising side-effect of gaining more followers is gaining more perverts creeping on his account. He gets his first unsolicited dick pic via insta DMs literally minutes after ending his third live. Then another. Then, miraculously, yet another. It’s far surpassed whatever he’s managed to get on his defunct Grindr account in a fit of libidinous boredom and in the same amount of time. It’s only then that Renjun begins to believe that he truly is living in a sort of alternate reality, one where guys apparently wanted him even after seeing him choke unattractively on facial wash. He’s stumbled into an erotic renaissance - not entirely wanted, but hey, an ego boost is an ego boost.
He sends some of the screenshots to Jeno. They laugh at them over beer and greasy fried food. Jeno, without fail, always has something to say about them.
“That looks like an angry eggplant. No thanks,” Jeno says of one dick that looks bruised.
“This one curves unnaturally,” he says of another. “Actually, that was maybe me being too generous. It looks like a tumor.”
Renjun thinks it looks perfectly fine. He makes a show of thinking. “Really? I might take this one up on the offer, honestly.”
Jeno looks at him like he’s grown a second head; Renjun guffaws behind his hand. “You can’t be serious.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t. Now that you mention it, the head does look a little weird.”
“It looks deformed.”
Renjun feigns being scandalized. “Jeno! Stop being so mean to these poor dicks!”
Jeno sniffs, crossing his arms, but he can’t fight the grin playing on his lips. “Whatever. They don’t even know how to sext properly.”
Renjun raises a challenging brow. “And you do?”
“Of course,” Jeno answers easily, confidently. Renjun is only a little surprised and definitely not jealous of any of the non-entities Jeno may or may not have sexted and/or showcased his sexual prowess with. Nope, not irritated at Jeno sexting nonstop which may or may not have led him to practically declare himself an authority on the matter.
“Okay. Enlighten me, oh great Jeno Lee, god of sexting.”
Jeno rolls his eyes, leaning in like he’s imparting a secret. Renjun knows this look; Jeno gets like this when he’s preparing to use his creds as an Architecture Major with a minor in Literature. Renjun imagines Jeno doesn’t have a lot of opportunities to talk about his love for the written word and all things romantic with his model colleagues—which is why Renjun gets the brunt of it.
Of course, he doesn’t mind. He’s never minded.
“Sexting is like composing a love letter, Renjun. You have to consider what’s required in a formal sentence. Things like… the rhythm of punctuation, knowing when to start, when to stop. A well-timed ellipsis. Erotic grammar is good grammar. A movie should play in your head.”
“… You lost me at sexting’s like a love letter,” he teases, but honestly, he gets it. Jeno’s the type who gets both word-feelings and image-feelings in equal measure, and as cringey as it is to agree with the kind of things that inform pitches for cheesy sitcoms, Renjun can’t disagree.
After all, seduction is language, bodily or verbal, not action. Jeno just so happens to be so great at both without realizing it, much to Renjun’s eternal chagrin.
.
Barely a week after his first live, he gets another DM. This time, though, it isn’t just any message. It isn’t another lewd proposition nor is it annoying spam either.
“I got a DM from Malin+Goetz,” he breathes into his phone. Jeno’s in London modeling for a local sustainable fashion boutique, and he won’t be back until next week, but fuck if this doesn’t send him into a panic. “I thought they were suing or something. They just said they wanted to repost my live."
“Let me guess.” Jeno sounds jet-lagged but full of cheer, which just boggles Renjun’s mind. It further fuels his suspicions that Jeno’s either an alien, a vampire, a mortal god. Or all three because why not; they were already within that realm of possibility. “They offered to send you their entire line?”
“How did you know?!”
Jeno laughs softly, and his voice has the sort of slightly rough tone that has successfully made Renjun quiver since he’d first laid eyes on Jeno. No, do NOT go there, Renjun. Still, he feels his heart kick quietly into double-time.
“Because I told you. You’re special, you’ve always been. And now everybody’s seeing that, too. Just took them a little longer to catch on, but I knew everyone would get there.”
Though it’s long distance, Renjun thinks Jeno sounds like he’s leaning over him, bringing Renjun into the warmth of him, closer just for a moment. His pulse takes a distinct and dramatic swing upwards. It feels almost flirty. But Jeno doesn’t flirt with him. He can’t be.
But shit, it feels so much like it that it tightens Renjun’s chest around his heart.
.
Three months and more than 200,000 followers later, Renjun starts a youtube account. There’s a few reasons why he’s persuaded to do so.
First, instagram lives do absolute shit for his concentration; he’s frequently distracted by the comments running down his screen like an interminable waterfall. Comments that steal his attention ranged from ego-boosting (Renjun you look soooo good today) to annoying (Do more research, there are literal kids watching and you don’t even say you’re not a skincare expert) to downright perverted and maybe more than a little disturbing (Shoulda been a camboy instead of an ig shill mmm those dsls are to die for).
Second, he can’t really do anything long-form on instagram live. How is he supposed to go on a 10-minute rant about the sustainability pitfalls of exfoliators (Donghyuck informed him of this fact during breakfast one day, and to be honest it’s an issue worthy of discussion) to people who had the attention span of a crab on instagram?
So he opens his youtube account, does more videos over the course of six months, amasses hundreds of thousands of subscribers - the works. It’s all pretty standard as far as content creator (Influencer, you’re an influencer, Jeno’s teasing voice gently reminds him in his head) numbers go.
And then he does his first video with Jeno when the latter visits him during a layover. They film it outside for variety, taking Renjun’s viewers around the outskirts of their neighborhood as they do a simple Best Friend Tag! video. It’s really just 12 minutes of him and Jeno answering dumb slam book type questions like what’s your favorite color and who’s your childhood crush.
Thing is, Jeno makes it difficult for the audience to discern where exactly the boundaries between so-called best friends were.
And the comments say it all.
JenoLeesBitch 2 hours ago
you guys are NOT just best friends no fckin way
999 likes
elivazeth 2 hours ago
Jeno is more WHIPPED than a slave at bdsm club scrEAMS
1.6k likes
Aziraphalene 2 hours ago
did i just click on a boyfriend tag video or
453 likes
r00kievelvet 1.5 hours ago
i’d like to thank god and renjun for having jeno in this video. jeno’s face is a service to humanity pls keep up the good work
843 likes
MOGSCHAN 1 hour ago
how can jeno jr stay down when renjun FLAILS around on his LAP like he’s possessed
2.4k likes
retired naruto stan 8 hours ago
renjun yR HaT FRIED ISIN LVE WIZ u R U LEGALLY BLOND
1k likes
retired naruto stan 20 minutes ago
sorry was wasted its LEGALLY BLIND***** HOT FRIEND***** IN LOVE****
1.9k likes
Jeno sits so close to him that the back of his shoulder looks glued to Jeno’s chest. Their lower bodies are hidden from view so people actually think Renjun is half-sitting on Jeno’s lap the entire time. There are also several moments when Renjun would tease Jeno about being an actual supermodel, I’m not even kidding, guys, and Jeno would shove at his shoulder, realize he maybe pushed too hard, then pull him back close, holding him and brushing the hair from his face. Lovingly. Tenderly. Looking at him like he just won the Man Booker Prize for the most sweeping, tearjerking romance in the world. (Jeno’s a literature nerd so Renjun thinks it’s more appropriate in this instance than a cliche like he hung the moon or something.)
Much like a boyfriend would.
Renjun supposes the most difficult part of this entire thing is that Jeno’s made it difficult for him, too, whether he realizes it or not.
The audience, of course, isn’t stupid. They catch on pretty quick - and fucking how.
How are these commenters just wasting their lives on youtube and not working for the the NIS or America’s CIA?
In those twelve minutes, they catch how the tips of Renjun’s ears go red whenever Jeno retaliates with a soft smile and killer lines like: I may be a supermodel, but hey, I’m nobody when I’m with the most beautiful boy in all of Seoul, wouldn’t you all agree?
And while he’s sitting there stuttering like a dunce and thinking what the ever loving fuck did he just say, the comments section would explode with a landmine of suggestive comments.
There are the comments complimenting Jeno’s heart-stopping beauty—because duh. There are screams in capslock directed at Renjun for being brilliant enough to grace a rapturous audience with Jeno’s face onscreen. The only mildly non-adulatory comment about Jeno was the audience expected him to speak with more confidence or even arrogance. Jeno’s speaking voice, though deep and rich, is mild, casting hi’s and hello’s sotto voce. But when he laughs, it’s unexpectedly loud and convulsive. A bit surprising for some. Renjun is probably more offended on Jeno’s behalf; he loves Jeno’s laugh.
But then, there are those comments. The ones he reads over and over again until he’s sure his eyes are bleeding, leaking truth and weakness and feelings.
He feels complete and sudden mortification when it hits him that these youtube comments don’t just disappear in a flash like the insta live comments do. Instead, they’re just sitting there taunting him on the comments section, forever a reminder of his growing crush on his stupidly gorgeous, achingly sweet specimen of a best friend.
.
“Only the second video together and we’re already trending on twitter? People are… weirdly invested,” Jeno gleefully observes over the phone.
“Like you’re invested in racking up roaming hours calling when you’re halfway across the world?” Renjun replies distractedly.
He’s squinting at the comments over their latest video, not entirely sure if he should be horrified at people’s sagacity or thankful that, hey, maybe if strangers on the internet saw something mutual between them, then—
Then maybe Jeno isn’t such a lost cause after all?
“Mm, something like that,” is Jeno’s non-answer.
Like most things with Jeno, Renjun doesn’t mind. Not the hour-long calls, sometimes over terrible static as if Jeno’s speaking to a paper cup held by strings. In truth, he likes that they both take the time, scheduling, and effort to work to stay involved with each other’s lives. While he has his friends in the city, it’s still easier to fake, to rely on proximity to stand-in for actual connection. Being apart, whether a few blocks or a thousand miles, Renjun and Jeno actively choose one another, each day, each week, each month.
Jeno’s in Sweden this time, shooting for a trendy brand geared towards hipster millennials and cooler-than-thou Gen Z-ers. Despite the late hour and a long day’s shoot, he sounds weirdly happy, like he’d just eaten his favorite food and then skipped right over to dessert. Though Jeno’s cultivated a worldly palate over years of traveling, unless his tongue’s decided to stage a revolution, Renjun can’t imagine Jeno acclimatizing that quickly to the taste of blood pudding.
Renjun puts the phone on the junction between his shoulder and ear, frowning at his laptop screen. “They even came up with a hashtag—#NoreNatioNatics. NNN? Oh god, that either sounds like someone on the verge of an orgasm or a cult. Who even came up with Noren?”
“You know, the more you say ‘Noren’ the more I like the sound of it. And does it really matter who started it?” Renjun hears shuffling in the background and the gentle creak of a mattress. “The portmanteau’s cute. Rolls off the tongue well.”
“It’s a little creepy,” he huffs. “There’s like, edits and photo-manips. There’s even twitter fanfics, Jeno. Let that sink in for a sec. I feel like a member of One Direction. Or one those kpop boybands who trend every time one of them, I dunno, has a birthday or pisses on the sidewalk.”
“Pretty sure we’d hear about them getting arrested for public indecency if that was the case,” Jeno laughs over the line, warm and honeyed. “‘Sides, I think it’s sweet. Stories take time and effort. They see the potential in your life and think you’re interesting enough to base an entire new world on.”
“It’s never just me, though. You’re always in them, too. Even worse, you’re always something cool, while I’m…”
He clicks on the hashtag for #NoreNatioNatics, which so far has around more than 10,000 tweets. He scrolls further and is again a little disconcerted to see people making fake social media posts with accompanying short stories… which he’ll never admit to having read quite a fair bit of. In the stories, Jeno’s always something cool like a vampire or astronaut or time traveller, while Renjun is just…
“You’re what? Renjun?”
“… Nothing. No great alter-egos or jobs. Just myself. Your average, everyday, friendly neighborhood disaster.” Renjun’s tongue hits the roof of his mouth as he prepares to enunciate with importance.
Jeno’s doing a piss poor job of stifling his laughter. “So it’s accurate, then?”
Renjun squawks, “Fuck you! I’ll have you know being the human embodiment of a homosexual keysmash is doing wonders for my brand of relatable coolness.”
“What even is a homosexual keysmash?” Jeno doesn’t stop laughing for at least a few seconds more, before it peters off into quiet giggles. “But seriously, though. I like it.”
“Like what?”
“That I’m always in stories with you.” Jeno pitches himself slower, more dreamily. “It reminds me of your parallel universe theory.”
Renjun falls silent, letting Jeno’s voice wash over him. Words well up, words too dangerous to be spoken out loud: You remember my stupid theory from back then? When I was already in love with you but didn’t want to admit it to myself? He mouths the last few words so there’s nothing to hear but his quiet humming over the line, encouraging Jeno to go on.
“I like the thought,” Jeno continues, and Renjun buries his legs under his blanket, warming his legs and matching the heat blooming in the very apex of his chest, “of you and me always together in strangers’ stories. It’s like living a thousand lives in every corner of the world… all of them with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Renjun’s answer seems pulled from deep within. “Me, too.”
“I can never imagine any story where we aren’t together,” Jeno whispers.
Renjun bites his lip to keep from saying something that’ll upset the bubble they’d built between them. For a little while longer, he’d live in this one world where Jeno could utter these things and it’d be okay for him to dream of possibilities, strangers’ stories be damned.
.
KlancingAround 30 minutes ago
A date with someone who isn’t THE jenoly??? DISLIKE
4.6k likes
PharaohAtemu 30 minutes ago
who the fuck is hangyul?? is that jeno’s second name
1.3k likes
mafuyous 20 minutes ago
NO I REFUSE TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE renjun ISN’T DATING jeno
963 likes
Buckysbitch 10 minutes ago
delete this
482 likes
Renjun stares down at his phone. It’s the first time that any of his videos get more than 10,000 dislikes, just because of a minor, 2-second mention that he’s going on a date with Hangyul. An acquaintance from secondary school, they reconnected over instagram two weeks ago and they’ve been, well, talking. Hangyul’s seen his videos, of course, and tells him he looks better than he’s ever remembered, that he’s “blossomed” so much since their school days.
Their conversations aren’t anything significant, not until Hangyul tells him he’s always had a crush on him at school, that he’s back in Seoul for University break, and would Renjun maybe like to go on a date with him. Nothing’s expected out of it, not even a hook-up, since Hangyul wouldn’t be in town for long. They agree to meet at a nearby bar, with both of them bringing their respective friend groups so it wouldn’t be too awkward. They’d just talk, drink, dance a little, maybe make out… but Renjun honestly didn’t plan on going home with him.
“It’s just an outing between friends, but for brevity’s sake we’ll call it a date. And also so I can tag this with #DateNight. #FriendsNight just doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Renjun tells the camera cheerily and clearly, leaving no room for any doubt that he isn’t running off to marry Hangyul in a secret ceremony. “I’m actually excited, guys. Please wish me luck!”
But the internet does not wish him luck. Instead, it hurls all sorts of vicious questions at Renjun. Why isn’t he with Jeno? Where is Jeno? What would Jeno say to all this?
Christ. He hopes people don’t dox Hangyul or steal his social security numbers or do something equally stomach-churning. He won’t be able to live with himself if Hangyul gets run out of Seoul because of delusional trolls who have nothing better to do online.
“Why does it have to be about Jeno all the time?” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels a headache coming on and he hasn’t even chugged more than one beer. “I do have a life outside him. People are just obsessed at this point.”
“Well, everyone on the internet thinks you and Jeno are already dating,” Donghyuck points out as they pregame in Renjun’s living room. They’re waiting for Yangyang to get the fuck out of the bathroom; he’s doing some sort of instagram story featuring Renjun’s shelves of skincare products—the majority sent by companies’ PR if he’s being totally transparent—hoping it’ll get him noticed by his new flavor of the month. “And honestly, I can’t blame them. So I don’t know why the hell you’re still pretending like you want to look good for someone else?”
Renjun begins to protest, but Chenle holds a hand up to shush him. “Jun-ge, he’s basically dropping anvil-sized hints at this point. Even Jisung can see it. The other day he asked me if you and Jeno already, and I quote—” Chenle pauses to pull a face, “—hit a home run. Fucking Jisung, the most oblivious boy on earth. If that doesn’t tell you something, then I don’t know what to say to you.”
The fuck. Aside from the mental image of Jisung imagining him and Jeno in various compromising positions, the thought of his friends subscribing to one too many internet conspiracy theorists has him more than a little annoyed.
“Just tell him! He’s been into you for—“ Donghyuck blurts.
“Hyuck,” Jaemin interrupts, shaking his head. Renjun glances back and forth between them curiously—Jaemin looking at Donghyuck almost in warning and Donghyuck closing his mouth, looking sheepish. Renjun wonders what the hell that’s all about.
Donghyuck sighs as if carrying a heavy weight, turning to Jaemin like he’s pleading to get his piece out. “I just want these two to get their act together. It’s not right that the fucking internet has them all figured out and they don’t even—“
“Again,” Jaemin insists sharply, looking peevish, “it’s not our place.”
“What’s not your place?” And there’s Jeno coming through the front door with a 6-pack of beer, beaming at them all. His entrance coincides with Yangyang finally deciding to emerge from the bathroom and practically throwing himself face first into Jeno’s shoulder.
As Jeno recovers from Yangyang’s full body hug, Renjun clears his throat. “I didn’t know you were coming home today from Tokyo.”
Jeno gives him a look that’s almost shy. “Yeah, I kinda wanted to surprise you. So… surprise?”
Renjun is about to say something when Yangyang ruins the moment: “Good thing you’re here, Jen. Just in time for Renjun’s date! I mean, at least it wouldn’t be so lame if you and I are single together just ‘cos Jaemin, Hyuck, Chenle, and now Renjun have all decided to be attached or get dates.”
It’s a minute thing, unnoticeable to anyone else that isn’t Renjun. But he knows Jeno, knows the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he’s fully, irrevocably happy; he knows how Jeno’s fist closes and opens as if gripping an invisible rope whenever he’s nervous. And he knows how Jeno’s eye twitches whenever he’s on the verge of crossness but exerting maximum effort not to show it.
Jeno’s still wearing that smile. His eye twitches when he looks at Renjun, the question evident. “Date?”
“It’s not a date date. Just a friend date,” Renjun mutters, trying to defuse the moment. He can feel all of his friends staring at him intently. “We just— we got to talking again over facebook and—“
“You don’t have to explain anything, Jun,” Jeno says in soft understanding. His eye isn’t twitching anymore. His smile looks brittle, doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, we’re all here to have a good time, right? And no one’s happier for you than I am. Date date or not.”
The tense air that seemed to settle in the atmosphere dissipates when Jeno throws an arm over his shoulder.
When he holds Renjun’s hand on the way to the bar, it isn’t as tight as he remembers.
At the date proper though, he doesn’t even get to the dancing and making out part with Hangyul. It’s unsurprisingly easy to pull his attention away, all things considered. It’s not that Hangyul’s boring or uninspired. He’s handsome, polished, and knows all the right things to say. For his part, Renjun tries his best to project a combination of confidence and deep preoccupation with Hangyul’s very interesting opinions.
It’s just that—when Jeno’s there, just around the corner, he takes up all of Renjun’s attention, a black hole sucking up all of his front and peripheral vision. And Renjun welcomes it. All it takes is Jeno pulling him by the forearm when a pulsing remix of Carly Rae Jepsen’s Cut to The Feeling plays, Jeno mouthing the words, we crossed the line and it was on, with a twinkle in his eyes, and Renjun is already excusing himself to be with Jeno on the dark, crowded dance floor.
In dancing, the body is everything: the instrument, the vehicle. The body transcribes, translates everything he can’t find in himself to say.
Jeno takes his hands in his and they move their hips to the bass. Their foreheads touch.
(He’s maybe imagining Jeno throwing a smug look just over his shoulder, but he’s too pleasantly buzzed to care.
He doesn’t look back. Hangyul doesn’t message him again.)
.
“Okay, so for today I’m just gonna do a quick live. Just like the old days.” Renjun laughs at his own joke. “The old days being… almost a year. Woah, actually. It has been some time since we’ve been at this, huh. Thanks again everyone for finding my series of regrettable life choices entertaining enough to follow!”
He means it when he says thank you; he hopes everyone can see the genuine gratitude on his face. It’s thanks to his followers that he’s able to pay his student fees in full and still keep quite a bit in his savings. He’d quit his part-time job a few months ago and just stuck to creating content, pre-filming everything on weekends so he’s not thinking about it on weekdays when he’s supposed to be studying. He’d also been contemplating moving out the flatshare and renting his own small apartment, but upon talking about his options with Donghyuck, Yangyang, and Jeno, had instead been persuaded to save up the money. For miscellaneous fees, emergencies, travel, small luxuries. He can now actually afford all the things that are sent to him by even the higher-end brands. There’s finally enough.
He turns his phone camera towards the refurbished shelf, showcasing the new tiling he had installed a few weeks ago. The shelves are stuffed to the brim with tubs of creams and serums from an array of Chinese, Korean, Japanese, French, American, Australian, UK brands that ranged from mind-blowingly expensive to drugstore, from La Mer and Drunk Elephant to Cosrx and HadaLabo.
“As you can see, there’s a lot of product here. But I haven’t been collecting all these just for display, otherwise you know my roommates—and Jeno—would be all up my case about sustainability. In celebration of one year being this disaster of a self-care enthusiast. Yes, not beauty guru, please stop tagging me on those male beauty guru listicles because I don’t even know the difference between concealer and foundation, they all sound like construction supplies to me… okay, what was I saying again? Right! I’m doing…” Renjun pauses for dramatic effect. “A giveaway at the end of the video! Yep, one lucky viewer is getting literally 99 percent of this entire shelf!”
Renjun turns the camera to himself. “I’m leaving just the 1 percent for myself, which is like… five products or something. I said before I didn’t do the 15-step thing and I still don’t do it now. Ain’t no one got time for that. Um, sorry to my Korean viewers just in case you’re devotees of the 15-step routine!”
He props the camera back up the shelf, brushing the bangs from his forehead with a clip he nicked from Donghyuck. He’s since been sent a dozen and one hair clips and hair bands to keep strands away from his face, but somehow Donghyuck’s still feels like the best one in the line-up.
He takes a quick glance at the screen and smiles at the veritable battalion of heart emojis flying in quick succession through his screen.
“Anyway, I’ll also be answering some questions from you guys while we do an exfoliating scrub. It’s been two weeks since I Iast exfoliated - I know, I know.” He makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Yang’s gonna kill me, so much dead skin buildup, blah blah.”
He picks up the product, a small clear bottle of Peter Thomas Roth Pro Strength Exfoliating Super Peel, and shakes it in the direction of the screen. “I’ll be picking questions at random, so… ask away while I put this stuff on my face.”
yelloworld2323
Renjun!!! PLEASE PICK ME! Where’s your dream vacation?
“This stuff looks like a solid washing-down-yesterday’s-mistakes-down-the-drain kinda peel. See how clear it is instead of the usual grainy or sandpaper-y scrubs or peels? That’s when you know shit’s serious,” he says, tilting the bottle upside down and soaking a cotton pad. “My dream vacation? Maybe the Maldives? I’d like to go somewhere there’s a nice beach. Yes, with a kilo’s worth of SPF on me, don’t go lecturing me about sun damage, jeez.”
twentythreesexytime
you’d look soooo hot with a tan
callmebyurstantwittername
RENJUNNIE do you work out?
He begins applying it to the apples of his cheeks, half-expecting the immediate sting. A few months ago he would’ve panicked, but now he’s already used to it. And not gonna lie, it did do wonders for his skin, making it look dewy and fresh, like he’s perpetually just run a marathon. He has to grudgingly admit those people hyping up the glass skin trend sure knew what they were talking about.
“Yeah, if you count walking 5,000 or more steps everyday going to University working out. At least I think it’s 5,000? Maybe I’ll get a fitbit one of these days so we can all track it together.”
norenprotectionsquad
WHEN WILL YOU GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT WE WANT
norenprotectionsquad
what we DESERVE
Renjun blinks. “Huh? What do the people want?”
ichoose.noren
renjun WHEN WILL YOU MAKE OUT W jeno???
noren.PHCLUB
the people NEED to know
Renjun shakes his head, feeling a twitch of exasperation. When will these people let it go? “Guys, please. Jeno and I aren’t—”
Then out the corner of his eye, he catches a particular, familiar username flash across the comments.
jenolee ✔️
so jun… i kinda wanna know too
jenolee ✔️
when ARE we making out?
Blood flushes Renjun’s cheeks. “I. Jeno, what? What are you—Are you shitting me? ”
jenolee ✔️
not shitting not kidding
jenolee ✔️
it’s not just the people wanting us to make out
ichoose.noren
OMG OMG OMG ARE YOU ALL SEEING WHAT I’M SEEING??? jenos HERE!!!!
jenolee ✔️
i want it too
jenolee ✔️
since i first saw you i think
prettybitchins
jenolyyyy yer a fucking kING ATTA BOOIIII
Renjun’s throat closes up. “Jeno, are you drunk?”
jenolee ✔️
not drunk
jenolee ✔️
just tired of pretending
norenprotectionsquad
jeno’s NEVER on renjuns ig lives holy SHIT we are witnessing hISTORY
jenolee ✔️
i don’t want anyone else with you. no more duck pics in your dms no more guys trying to date you on ig
jenolee ✔️
*dick pics
jenolee ✔️
everyone knows how much i love you
Tomhollanderz
DAMN jeno WENT FOR THE KILL
n0r3nlOver3232
I’M FUCKING CRYING ok it’s official my expiration date has been extended thks noren for giving me reason to live!
jenolee ✔️
when will you know it too
Renjun feels like he’s about to pass out. “I’m—you love— “
alfafay
noooo wTF i thought renjun would be the one to confess!!!!
dovetailsss52
renjun ANSWER
Renjun scrambles for his phone, promptly ends the live, and calls Jeno’s number.
“Hey.” Jeno sounds perfectly sober on the other end.
“Hi,” Renjun answers. Breathes slowly to steady himself.
“So… will you ever answer my question? I hope you’re not mad I did it on your live.”
Renjun bites his lower lip to keep from smiling until it physically hurt.
.
He uploads a video to his youtube channel a week later. He has a lot to resolve: there’s a fair bit of angry messages flooding his DMs about the giveaway he promised, but an overwhelming majority are concerned followers asking him if he’s okay. He’s touched if a little blown away by it all.
This time, though, he has Jeno with him.
Jeno, who’s looking positively radiant and glowing, like he’s the one who scrubbed once a week and moisturized daily.
Speaking of scrubs, Renjun is currently trying to squeeze some out a tube. He’s doing his actual 4-step routine in today’s video—and having his boyfriend do it, too. Would Jeno’s devastating handsomeness be diminished when what’s basically gray matter is slathered on his face? Now’s the time to find out.
“Usually, this one’s a pump, rub, dump, and move on sorta thing—“ Renjun stops when he hears Jeno laugh beside him. He raises an eyebrow, daring Jeno to say something. “What the hell are you smiling about?”
Jeno’s smile is a tad sly. “Oh, nothing. Just that I have the most beautiful boy in all of Seoul—no, the world— talking about pumping and rubbing. Very sexy.” Jeno winks at the camera. “I’m sure you all know what I mean.”
Renjun sputters, but not for long. Jeno’s already tugging him closer, tangling his fingers in Renjun’s hair, and kissing him slow and deep. The kiss flickers in Renjun’s brain over and over - like a film being rewound, except it’s not just the sight of Jeno he remembers, but his taste, his touch, the exhilaration of finally, finally sharing this world with him. A world where they’re together not just in stories written halfway across the world, but in reality, right here and now.
The camera blinks red, a spotlight in their peripheral vision. But as with all things Jeno, Renjun doesn’t find it in himself to mind one bit.