Work Text:
NOW
Jisung’s jet-black hair is plastered to his forehead, head resting against the edge of the bathtub as he looks up at Chenle, puffy cheeks splotched with sickness and misery, blinks slow and measured, smile tired and gentle.
And suddenly, it all makes sense.
← EIGHT MONTHS AGO
There are three things that Chenle expects on his birthday: posts from his friends featuring the absolute worst pictures of him, an excuse to go out and get drunk, and everyone’s attention on him.
Instead, he’s cooped up in the tiny bathroom of his best friend’s studio apartment, glasses pushed back into his hair, mixing lightener and developer in a bowl, his phone occasionally vibrating with responses to the last message he sent out.
His mother might call the cops to check in on him – after all, she did pass on her theatrics and love for attention onto Chenle, and cancelling plans on birthday is at the top of the list of things that Chenle would do as a desperate cry for help.
In the moment, it barely seems to matter though.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”
Chenle’s brush is poised an inch away from Jisung’s hair, like a vampire with bad hearing hovering by the door, unsure if he should proceed.
“I know, but I want to,” says Jisung, head jerking to automatically turn to Chenle, only to be stopped by the way Chenle’s fingers tug at the strands of his hair held between them. “It’s a rite of passage.”
“A rite of passage is telling your best friend when your relationship of three years ends,” says Chenle, the frustration in his voice a little more than half-real, grip on Jisung’s hair tightening. “And then your best friend shows up with tissues and movies and cookies and lets you cry and talks shit about your ex when you feel a little better—"
“In my defence—”
“Shove your defence up your ass. I don’t care when it happened, you should have told me. I can’t fucking believe I had to find out from an Instagram story of all things, and not even yours.”
“It’s literally your birthday, this could have waited a day.”
“My birthday literally happens every year,” says Chenle irritably, releasing his grip on Jisung’s hair to shift in the small space, crouching a bit to look Jisung in the eye. “It would have sucked even more if you kept it from me and came out to celebrate. You wouldn’t have had a good time and neither would I.”
“How would you even have a bad time if I don’t tell you?”
“Because you will tell me eventually,” says Chenle with an exasperated eye-roll, like it’s absurd to assume otherwise. “And then I would look back on the night and think about all the times where you seemed like you were having a good time but you weren’t, and then I would have felt like the worst friend in the world because why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“You love your birthday, Le, you literally booked the roller rink a month in advance.”
“And I cancelled it in a minute and feel no regret,” points out Chenle, tone firm as he pokes Jisung in the chest. “Get it together.”
A couple ounces of emotional intelligence and Chenle would have phrased that more succinctly as but I love you more, idiot, but unabashed proclamations of love are more Renjun’s thing. It doesn’t really fit with the rest of Chenle’s persona, when so much of his affection hinges on cooking and bombarding his friends with every thought that has the misfortune of crossing his mind.
Jisung can’t even bring himself to look Chenle in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
He means it.
They don’t say it often to each other, not without it being saran-wrapped in sarcasm and sardonicism. It makes Chenle very aware when Jisung actually means it – aware of every pore on his face, the thin sheen of sweat trapped between his fingers and the crinkly plastic of the gloves over his hands, the faint scent of synthetic vanilla that hangs in Jisung’s bathroom.
He knocks Jisung’s forehead with the handle of the brush. “Don’t be insane, I’m not mad at you. I can and will burn Taekyung’s house down on the other hand, but I just want you to tell me next time – doesn’t matter when or why or how it happens. We can deal with it. You and me and a different bottle. Maybe hair dye, maybe alcohol, who knows? Or even better, level up your taste in people so that there isn’t a next time.”
Jisung nods, looking up briefly, an attempt at a smile briefly flitting across his face as he presses his lips together. “I’ll try.” A pause. “I want to talk about it, but not right now. When I’m blond and cool and unbothered.”
Pressing the brush to Jisung’s hair feels like desecrating a rare piece of art. Chenle may change his own hair colour with the seasons, but that’s because he barely has a fuck left in his pocket to offer up to his dying scalp.
On the other hand, while vain is not a word that Chenle would use to describe Jisung in a million years, there is something to be said about the number of hair products neatly stacked in the space above Jisung’s sink and how he’s far too well-versed in shampoo ingredients and the importance of hair porosity in comparison to the average person.
It all pays off though, because Jisung has the softest hair known to man. The same hair that Chenle is currently slathering bleach over, humming a funeral dirge under his breath.
Four hours and another round of bleach later, there is a stranger standing in the kitchen with Chenle, talking about how his ex-boyfriend got mad all the time if they didn’t share the exact same opinion on everything and eating dried mango straight out of the family-sized bag in the fridge because he’s too impatient to wait until the sundubu jjigae is finished.
This isn’t the point at all, but blond looks a little too good on Jisung, even though his hair is still a little damp and flat, entirely detracting from the fact that he’s wearing an old shirt that is definitely seeing its worst days.
His cheekbones look sharper, his lips softer. There’s a shiver that runs down Chenle’s spine when he looks over, a warmth at the base of his stomach. He’s done really well with dyeing Jisung’s hair, of course he should be proud of it.
But pride doesn’t entirely explain why for the first time in a long, long time, Chenle briefly finds himself thinking about Renjun’s balcony, peach soju, and regret.
ONE WEEK LATER →
Chenle has always been impulsive, from putting his tongue on everything within licking distance as an infant to confessing to every crush he had as a teenager to buying a whole setup to embark on a new hobby that he has randomly decided that he will take up on a Tuesday afternoon as an adult, only to realize two weeks later that he isn’t cut out for this (and then continuing anyway until he physically can’t because, he spent so much money on this).
The best way to rationalize it in his head is reminding himself that at least he took the opportunity. He gained a new experience. Regret hasn’t knocked on his door for a long, long time, and Chenle thought he was safe from it, only to realize that Regret had managed to break in at some point, sleeping in the attic and staying out of sight, until Chenle catches a glimpse one day and in response to discovering its presence, promptly flees the house and sets it on fire on the way out.
The tap-tap-tap of Yangyang’s fingers on his keyboard play like the beat of a mocking chorus when Chenle picks up his phone once more to find his notifications bare.
The matching tap-tap-tap of Chenle’s foot has Yangyang looking over, eyebrow raised. “What goes on, my dude?”
Chenle opens his mouth when Donghyuck enters through the door of the staff room, cheeks dotted with stickers of bunnies and flowers and stars and hearts. His class must’ve been doing arts and crafts, and Chenle can’t help but wonder how he always keeps the glitter off his impeccably pressed clothes.
“I’ll tell you later,” whispers Chenle, turning back to his laptop to finish writing an email to one of the parents of his students who has inquired about what to bring in for a birthday.
Yangyang’s glance shifts to Donghyuck then back to Chenle, eyes widening in realization. He has many strengths but subtlety is not one of them.
Admittedly, it isn’t one of Chenle’s either. Any model that was trained on Chenle’s patterns of speech would have a high probability of predicting what he wanted to talk about at this point – it isn’t like he’s shut up about Jisung in the last couple months.
That’s another weakness of Chenle’s – shutting up.
And also Jisung, as he’s now learned.
A little too late, admittedly.
← SEVEN MONTHS AGO
Park Jisung isn’t ever listed among the people that Chenle thinks about when he’s lying in bed or in the bathroom. Chenle has policies, he doesn’t generally think about his friends in those places at all.
Not in the way he just did, at least.
It horrifies him at first, when the thought of Jisung falls into his brain in the middle of jerking off, and Chenle is caught so off-guard that he sits on the toilet with his head in his hands until Kunhang, who is staying over for the weekend, comes and knocks on the door, loudly speculating on what Chenle must’ve eaten that could be wrecking his system and corroborating his hypotheses with personal experiences.
It makes Chenle feel indecent, especially when Jisung comes over the next day, laughter barely concealed as he attempts to seriously say a large organization is catfishing people by using your picture, and then turns his phone to show Chenle a picture of a star posted by NASA.
A scoff, an eye-roll – familiar waters. It feels like a temporary moment of insanity. A deep breath, the refrain of you are not your thoughts. Of course Chenle doesn’t want Jisung or something. That would be crazy.
But there’s something about how his eyes stay on Chenle, even when they’re only surrounded by people who are looking at him like they want to devour him whole when they’re out (which has been a lot recently), and Chenle doesn’t know how to look away from him.
“Who even are you?”
The shot glass is dwarfed in Jisung’s hand, his grip loose and mirth dancing in his eyes as he raises it to his lips.
His confidence has grown astronomically from the moment that he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror after he washed the bleach out of his hair. The top two buttons of his white shirt are undone, collarbone exposed with the slope of his body, sleeves rolled up like he’s read every book on Slutty Male Looks back to front, and Chenle’s throat is unexplainably dry.
Chenle presses his lips together challengingly, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one leg as he keeps his narrowed eyes on Jisung, anticipating.
Jisung takes a cautionary sip, and Chenle can’t hold back the disbelieving scoff in his throat as he watches Jisung tip the whole glass into his mouth, cheeks puffed out before Chenle reminds him that he needs to swallow.
The girl standing next to him, the one who bought him the shot in the first place, laughs and calls him cute, her hand hesitant to leave a light touch behind on his arm before her friend calls her over, leaving Jisung and Chenle after promising to be right back.
“Did you enjoy that?” asks Chenle, shaking his head as he watches Jisung’s expression crumple as the girl walks away.
Jisung scrunches up his nose, sticking his tongue out. “Very much,” he coughs out, voice strained.
“Another round for you guys from those two over there,” says the bartender, hitting Jisung with a smile that does little to hide how much he is enamoured by him as well. Something green and sharp twists in Chenle’s stomach.
Jisung turns in the direction gestured to, where a man and a woman sit watching Jisung with uncensored appreciation for the sight they are witnessing, returning the shy wave he sends in their direction with flying kisses.
“Is everyone experiencing collective psychosis or something?” mutters Chenle. “This is crazy.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” huffs Jisung, rolling his eyes, stretching out as he leans back against the bar, exposing a little more of his chest. Chenle takes another long sip of his drink. “Like it’s my fault.”
Jisung turns and reaches for the shot and Chenle slaps his hand away, downing both shots while keeping Jisung away with one hand pressed firmly to Jisung’s chest, trying not to think about a) the fact that his thumb is pressed to Jisung’s bare skin and b) the fact that Jisung could easily resist but chooses not to.
The burn in Chenle’s throat distracts him momentarily from both thoughts, his fingers curling in Jisung’s shirt as he pulls him closer, curving his hand around Jisung’s jaw as Chenle turns his head slightly, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Your bangs are a little uneven. Need to fix this tomorrow. I told you to just wait until the weekend so I could trim your hair myself.”
Chenle can see the girl walking over and pausing in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t make any effort to correct where his eyes and hands are.
“I don’t trust you with scissors right now,” says Jisung, gaze unflinching and entirely pliant as he lets Chenle turn his jaw in other directions, surveying Jisung's new haircut.
Chenle isn’t drunk enough to say who cares about scissors, I don’t even think I can trust me with you right now.
He could very well get there if the other half of the bar happens to glance in Jisung’s direction, it seems, but he sure hopes not, partly because he’d not interested in flirting with a blackout tonight and partly because he’s becoming increasingly intolerant towards the way people are staring at Jisung.
“Tomorrow, I said,” says Chenle, drawing the syllables out as Jisung holds eye contact with unexplainable gravity. Does he always stare like that? Do his eyes always look like poetry? Chenle did terribly at poetry in school – he was part of the something curtains are just blue crowd, a trait that has stuck with him and annoyed Jisung on more than one occasion. “Can you even math?”
“What is even going on?”
Mark’s voice cuts through Chenle’s buffering brain, making his hand go slack, dropping to his side as he turns. Donghyuck is biting down on his lip like he’s physically holding back a shit-eating grin, momentarily donning the look of a gossip-hungry teenager rather than a tired father of two toddlers on a desperately needed night out.
“Ji is going to get alcohol poisoning,” says Chenle, breathing out a laugh that feels synthetic in his mouth. “You would not believe how many people have been buying him drinks.”
“They should just give me the money, honestly,” smiles Jisung. “Lele seems to think I can’t hold my alcohol. He’s acting like my mom.”
“Hey! First of all, you have the worst tolerance known to man,” emphasizes Chenle, gesturing elaborately to illustrate how bad it is. “Second of all, I’ve seen your childhood pictures, your mother did not care if you make a fool of yourself in public, but I do.” An annoyed click of his tongue. “Next time we go out, you’re going to wear a sweatsuit.”
“Someone’s jealous,” says Donghyuck in a sing-song voice, taking the seat next to Chenle.
“In which world—” starts Chenle defensively, hurriedly clearing his throat. “I just don’t see it.”
“You don’t?” asks Jisung.
Chenle’s eyes wander from the tucked-in button-down to the new haircut, taking his time to attempt to formulate a response that he can wrap neatly in a joke before he sees very real hurt shielded behind Jisung’s eyes, instantly feeling like the worst person on the planet.
“Of course I do, idiot,” says Chenle, shaking his head like it would be ludicrous to even suggest otherwise. “I can be objective! It’s just crazy to me because you’re just the guy who eats all the snacks in my fridge and loses to me in Mario Kart.”
“So he gets why other people find you attractive but he doesn’t find you attractive,” clarifies Donghyuck, overdoing the emphasis and testing Chenle’s patience with how much of his glare he can hold back.
“Well, he’s straight, so that’s good enough for me,” says Jisung, tone nonchalant to an almost annoying degree as he pulls the cocktail from Chenle’s hand and takes a small sip, running his hand through his hair to push it back, mesmerizing Chenle with the simple action.
Oh god. Chenle doesn’t even think he can be trusted with his own sexuality right now.
He prays for a bottle of black hair dye to spill over Jisung’s head. He simply does not have the tenacity for this.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. It makes Chenle feel sick, like he’s caught in high seas when all he wanted was a little row down a calm lake.
Jisung is supposed to be familiar waters. He isn’t supposed to walk around with his spine straight and make Chenle aware that his lips are at Chenle’s eye level.
He’s so painfully nerdy. He argues with Chenle all the time but also mostly lets Chenle win. He has this way of sticking his tongue out of his mouth when he’s concentrating on his work. He can’t create art to save his life, even though so much of his job revolves around technical drawing, but leaves doodles over Chenle’s grocery lists (after adding three more items to prepare for the times he comes over). He’s quiet about the things he dislikes and is afraid of so many things and always started conversations with the most insane questions when they were just beginning to become friends.
Chenle needs him.
But Chenle should not want him.
Chenle wants the woman at the IKEA with the collarbone tattoo and topknot. Chenle wants the woman with the full cheeks and bright smile who explains all the Snoopy keychains on her bag to him when he’s drunk. Chenle wants the woman who comes up to him at the club and states her intentions so clearly that the honesty arouses him.
He’s sat by Jisung’s side and given him honest opinions as he swipes through men on Bumble. Sure, some of them are good-looking, but Chenle doesn’t want them. Not that there would be anything wrong with that, it just isn’t Chenle’s speed.
Despite his allergies to romance and the way his parents have disillusioned him about the idea of love, Chenle feels no shame in wanting, even if that’s all he finds himself capable of.
Chenle doesn’t want Jisung, not because Chenle doesn’t want men, but because he knows that he doesn’t know how to keep someone he wants.
THREE WEEKS LATER →
“Do you know what’s going on with Jisung?”
“No!” Chenle clears his throat, hoping he doesn’t sound too suspicious, neck snapping to meet Donghyuck’s confused expression. He’s gotten complacent over the weekend, dealing with the juxtaposition of being relieved that no one is asking him about Jisung and the fact that he may actually be falling physically ill with every weekend that Jisung isn’t around. “I mean, no, I haven’t seen him in a couple weeks actually.”
“Yeah, me neither,” says Donghyuck, pulling his mug away from the coffee machine. Chenle can smell that he used the caramel capsule today. It’s both their favourites. “Are you guys okay?”
Chenle nods, a little too enthusiastically because he never knows how to temper himself when he lies. One would think he’d have enough practice telling children that Santa Claus does exist, but lying is just one of those things that Chenle can’t seem to get better at, like painting his nails or intentional vulnerability. “Yeah, absolutely. Why, did he say something?”
Donghyuck’s glasses do very little to take the edge off how piercing his gaze can be. It doesn’t help that Chenle’s skin is practically paper, making it super easy for Donghyuck to tear right through to the simmering goop that fills Chenle’s ribs. He believes they’re supposed to be called his emotions or something? “Nope. Do you have something to say?”
Chenle takes a long pause. “To you or to him?”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “To me. Why would you be telling me things you have to say to him?”
Chenle laughs humourlessly. “Because it’s easier?”
“Things worthwhile are rarely easy,” says Donghyuck, raising his eyebrows as he tips his glass in Chenle’s direction like he’s toasting to Chenle’s lack of communicative ability. “Are you still coming to Mark’s birthday party this weekend?”
“Ah, that’s this weekend! Time passes so fast,” says Chenle, lying through his teeth knowing that the last two weeks have felt like seven years, a dizzying mixture of anticipation and dread flooding his stomach knowing that Jisung will unavoidably be there. “Are Haeunie and Haewonie going to be there as well?”
“No, Mark’s parents are taking them for the weekend,” says Donghyuck with a fond smile. “I was completely okay with just having a dinner party thing at home with them included as well but my in-laws are insistent on us also having adult time. I’m grateful.”
“That’s sweet,” nods Chenle sincerely, especially since he knows how long it has been since Donghyuck’s own parents were involved in the life of their grandchildren at all. “I’ll be there.”
It’s supposed to be the end of the conversation. They nodded and everything. Donghyuck doesn’t need anything else in the room, but he’s still just standing there, and Chenle can feel his gaze on the back of his neck, scorching hot.
“I know you work better on a deadline,” says Donghyuck finally, the gap between the words giving away how many variations of the sentences he must have come up with in his head, how he’s still unsure of the words he’s saying. “So take this to be one.”
“That sounds so ominous.” Chenle turns around to attempt a chuckle before he stops short at the serious look on Donghyuck’s face. Donghyuck doesn’t play about a mere handful of things, but Jisung is definitely one of them. “I’ll try.”
Donghyuck’s expression remains stony. Chenle scribbles down a mental note to never form nebulous romantic and/or sexual attachments to any of his coworkers’ relatives ever again.
“I meant, yes, will do.”
Donghyuck tilts his head. Chenle puts a hand to his heart.
“I mean it.”
Chenle’s phone buzzes with a notification that he checks once Donghyuck has left, a text from a relatively new number that Chenle still hasn’t committed to saving, because it feels too close to confirming something major about himself.
Hi Chenle, been a while. Got any time to meet up this week? ;)
← THREE MONTHS AGO
Chenle can count the number of people who have seen him cry on the fingers of one hand.
There are his parents, who unfortunately had no choice given that they happened to be around for the times in Chenle’s life when he couldn’t communicate in any other way (he was embarrassing as an infant).
There’s Kun, who had to carry Chenle to the hospital when he broke his arm getting roughly tackled during basketball when they were barely teenagers – Chenle hasn’t heard from him in a few months, he should text him sometime.
There’s also Yizhuo, who put Chenle on veggie-cutting duty at her dinner party and somehow seemed to have shopped at the store stocking the most pungent onions known to man, but Chenle isn’t really counting her.
Jisung is about to debut very high on that list any minute now, because Chenle keeps staring at himself in the rear-view mirror, getting upset, looking away, looking back, and getting upset all over again.
Jisung’s even taken Chenle’s glasses away and kept them in his bag, but the blurry clash of bright pink against his dry auburn strands is enough for Chenle to refine the image in his head. The whole ordeal repeating itself over and over again every time Chenle catches sight of himself is chipping away at the dams barricading Chenle’s tear ducts, which were not built to withstand this kind of periodic stress.
“I’m going to have to get microbangs,” says Chenle, tone steeped in devastation as though he’s just had a premonition about the terrible way his life will end. “What kind of parent gives their six-year-old chewing gum anyway?”
“It was probably an accident,” says Jisung soothingly, switching his indicator on as he keeps his eyes on the side-view mirror. “Having a young child is difficult.”
“Gee, I have no idea what that’s like, it’s not like I deal with a whole cohort of them all day,” says Chenle, feeling a burn at the back of his eyes as he looks in the mirror once more, the clump at the front of his forehead itching to be ripped out, basically begging for it. “Ignore that, I love all my children very much, but seriously, maybe this is the thing that finally gets me to quit teaching. Not the shitty pay, not the dictatorial administration, not even the fact that I’ve lost the ability to stay up past ten. Microbangs.”
“They’re not that bad,” shrugs Jisung, reaching over to pat Chenle’s thigh reassuringly without taking his eyes off the road. “I had them for a while when Donghyuck gave me a haircut when I was like eight. All my pictures that summer have me with a beanie on even in hot weather.”
“That explains why your brain is fried most of the time,” says Chenle, a laugh forming in his mouth before another look in the mirror crushes it brutally. Jisung glances over at Chenle like he wants to make a scathing comeback but sees no point in it.
“Scissors are in the cutlery drawer,” says Chenle, eyes following Jisung as he bypasses that area of the kitchen altogether to head to the freezer. Jisung’s sense of direction isn’t great but surely he’d be able to get around Chenle’s house considering he’s been a regular visitor for years, but he continues to surprise Chenle every day. “Don’t get the peanut butter, it’ll make it worse and pull out my hair, and I think I only have the crunchy one anyway—"
He comes back with ice wrapped in a towel, and the crease between Chenle’s eyebrows deepens as Jisung bats his hands away and leans in, wrapping the clump of hair and gum with the cold towel, holding it steadily in place.
“What is this?” asks Chenle finally.
“Apparently you can freeze the gum and break it out in little pieces,” explains Jisung, taking the seat next to Chenle on the couch gently, so as to not accidentally yank Chenle towards him by the hair. Considering the health of Chenle’s scalp, it would probably not give him much pain, but only because half his hair would break off into Jisung’s hands. “It’s supposed to be best if your hair is dyed or damaged.”
There’s more black than blond in Jisung’s hair at this point, steadily approaching one final haircut to get rid of the colour altogether, but Chenle knows how sharp Jisung’s memory is.
Sharper than is convenient for Chenle, considering that sometimes Jisung brings up embarrassing things that Chenle would have been on the verge of forgetting and then revels in watching Chenle scream into his hands and threaten violence.
“Is this one of the scenarios that came to you in a dream?”
It’s the reason Jisung knows which materials can be used to filter water in the woods. He also knows the emergency numbers in every country that he plans to visit. He even knows how to be safe while doing a spacewalk. Chenle remembers the first time they had a sleepover and woke up to Jisung feverishly reading a page on how to eat pufferfish safely as the sun was just starting to rise. He still hasn’t even been to a place that even serves pufferfish.
It would be endearing if not mildly concerning as well. Chenle feels like Jisung’s entire personality can be summed up with those two emotions.
“No, I was searching up ‘get gum out of dyed hair no scissors’ in the car after you texted me,” says Jisung, words light but striking Chenle in the sternum with the force of a professional karate punch. “I put ‘no scissors’ in capital letters. I knew you would be upset about cutting your hair.”
Chenle falls silent as Jisung pulls away the cold towel, leaning closer to inspect the piece of gum before shaking his head and reapplying the ice, giving Chenle a tentatively reassuring smile.
Jisung is often not very aware of the fact that he’s six feet tall and very strong, dropping things that are too small in his hands and attempting to hide behind Chenle when he’s embarrassed, but there’s something to be said about the way that Jisung breaks the gum out of Chenle’s hair, with measured pressure and the care extended to holding a newborn animal, and the way that it’s dripping warmth down Chenle’s chest.
Jisung doesn’t even talk through it, a rarity for him around Chenle – they don’t really finish conversations, they just keep interrupting each other and hopping onto the next topic, knowing the other person will follow anyway. There are other times when they’ll both fall completely silent, sitting together and scrolling on their phones or answering emails or just actually paying attention to what they’re watching – they call it Social Jisung Mode, and laugh every time at its accuracy.
Chenle feels like he’s forgotten how to start a conversation as well, suddenly aware of the small scar at the bridge of Jisung’s nose, the scattering of blemishes over his cheeks, the small mole by his lip – things that Chenle has never paid real attention to, because they’ve never been in proximity like this, close enough for Chenle to make out all his features in high definition without his glasses, not for a really long time.
He really does continue to surprise Chenle every day.
It works out, though, and they manage to get all the gum out of Chenle’s hair. Jisung plays sudoku on his phone while Chenle takes a shower to get the last of it out, and Chenle makes him dinner as a thank-you.
“Do you think I would have pulled off microbangs though?” jokes Chenle later, while they watch an episode of Psych side-by-side on the couch, hot bowls of udon cradled in their hands.
“Doubt it,” says Jisung. “If I couldn’t, then definitely not.” He glances over with a grin before its teasing edge snaps when they make eye contact, and he laughs gently, reaching over to pat Chenle’s arm. “I don’t mean it. You have the cheekbones for it, you would’ve pulled it off.”
“Mhmm,” scoffs Chenle. “That’s so oddly specific. Why would you even notice something like that?”
“I don’t know, maybe I’m obsessed with you,” sing-songs Jisung, tapping Chenle’s nose with the back of his chopsticks, meeting Chenle’s sceptical glare with a failed wink, face scrunched up before he goes red and turns away.
Of course he doesn’t mean it. He’s such a dork. Chenle needs a reminder sometimes.
ONE MONTH LATER →
“What exactly do you mean by that? That Jisung wasn’t good enough for him?”
Chenle is only two drinks in, but something about the derision in Hyunyeo’s tone has cleared all his senses immediately, knuckles tightening around his glass. A majority of the party has gone to dance, but that includes Jisung, so Chenle has remained behind at the bar.
(Donghyuck has not said anything yet about Chenle giving Jisung a wide berth, with the concentrated awkwardness from their passing greeting having contributed to making them imitate like poles, but Chenle knows that the clock is running out on his deadline, and he still doesn’t know what are the right words to say.)
“Who said anything about that?” asks Hyunyeo, sitting a couple places away from Chenle. Chenle has never understood why Jisung has always looked up to this man with stars in his eyes, he’s quite unimpressive. However, it would quite literally crush Jisung to hear Hyunyeo say a single unkind word about him, which is also why Chenle has pre-emptive hostility about it.
“I don’t know, you seemed to imply exactly that by saying you were surprised they even lasted that long,” points out Chenle. “And you definitely seem to have a great opinion of Taekyung, so…”
Hyunyeo tilts his head, eyes unfocused. He’s definitely drank quite a bit more than Chenle, and Chenle should let it go. “Okay, I’ll bite. Yes, I think Taekyung was too good for Jisung. He had his life together.”
“Jisung is literally one of the best architects in his company,” points out Chenle. “And he’s incredibly mature and kind and talented, so I don’t know what you expect—did you just laugh at that?”
“You know how dear Jisung is to me,” says Hyunyeo, but the barely concealed unkindness in his voice raises Chenle’s hackles, makes his stomach boil. “He is talented, there is no doubt about that, but mature? He still believes in aliens and plays with Legos, and he can barely strike up conversations with new people. Look at both of them right now. Taekyung has a new girlfriend, they even got engaged last week. Jisung is the one who shot himself in the foot breaking it off because – and I mean this with affection – who else would date him?”
“First of all,” says Chenle, trying and failing to temper the indignation in his voice. “I find it incredibly immature of Taekyung that he isn’t able to be alone for a while, there’s nothing wrong with taking time off from dating after a breakup. Second of all—”
“I’m sorry,” sneers Hyunyeo. “Second of all? You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve known Jisung since he was a teenager.”
“I could care less,” says Chenle flippantly. “Anyone would be lucky to date Jisung. If anything, Taekyung is the one at a loss over here.”
“You could care less, really?” Hyunyeo getting off the stool to mock Chenle by lightly pushing his shoulder should be setting alarm bells off in Chenle’s head, especially given that Hyunyeo is a good three inches taller than him, but Chenle is way more sober and therefore, much more coordinated. “Incredibly disrespectful, don’t you know I’m older than you?”
What were the weak points to attack again? Chenle pulls the voice of Sandra Bullock from the depth of his mind – solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin.
“I know that,” says Chenle stubbornly, jaw set and feet planted firm even as Hyunyeo pushes his shoulder even harder the second time, making Chenle sway dangerously. “And I should care because?”
Playing defence has never been Chenle’s preferred position, his blood runs far too hot for that, and he braces himself on his back foot, preparing to launch himself forward as Hyunyeo’s fingers curl into a fist.
It happens before Chenle can fully register it, the way an arm roughly pulls him back before he can swing his fist, Hyunyeo’s beefy swipe to his face just barely missing his nose. Chenle struggles against the person holding him back by the torso, an effort proving to be futile when the person picks him up with barely any exertion, tossing him over his shoulder and taking them both away.
Chenle would fight back if he didn’t know exactly who would even be capable of this, his guess confirmed when he is finally put down after they go out through the side entrance, coming face to face with Park Jisung, looking angrier than Chenle has ever seen him.
← SIX MONTHS AGO
“We have to redo your roots.”
Jisung is seated on the floor while Chenle sits on the couch, pressing circles into Jisung’s scalp with his fingers. It’s been a longer workday than usual, and Jisung caught a headache around mid-afternoon and still thought it was a good idea to work for another three hours.
“No, I don’t want to,” says Jisung, eyelashes fluttering as he leans back against Chenle’s knees, head dropping back onto Chenle’s lap as Chenle moves his fingers to massage Jisung’s temples, pausing to top-up the headache balm coating his fingers.
“So you’re just going to wait until it all grows out?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing, just…” Chenle contemplates how to put this forward nicely. “Like yes, I don’t think I expected you to keep it forever, but you’ve really been leaning into this whole… I don’t know, everybody-wants-me-and-I-know-it side to your identity?”
“See, I was thinking about that earlier today, because yes, I do like being that person,” says Jisung, a sigh fluttering over his lips as Chenle presses the heels of his palms against his skull and moves them in small circles. “It’s weird because I’ve never gotten this amount of attention in my life. Also, it’s a gigantic fuck-you to Taekyung because look at me now.”
“Look at you now, indeed. Thriving.”
“Yeah, but then I accidentally opened his Instagram story today and cried about it,” admits Jisung, scarlet splotching over his cheeks.
Chenle’s hands still. “Ji.”
“Yeah,” chuckles Jisung humourlessly. “But that, that’s just the person that I am. That I actually am. Stressed out as hell. My hands were cramping. I didn’t feel cool under a single lens. It feels like I’ve been playing a character this whole time, because I am not this person that I am perceived as now, just because I look different. Do I want to be? Maybe, but if I start associating this persona or whatever with my hair colour then I’m just going to use it as a mask, because that’s all I’ve been doing so far.”
“That’s fair, I suppose,” says Chenle, running his fingers in even strokes through Jisung’s hair. “But you do know this confidence and behaviour just becomes easier the longer you do it, you know?”
“Yeah, but I just feel like it’s easier now because I can’t recognize myself in the mirror,” says Jisung, eyes fluttering open to look up at Chenle upside-down. “And when it all grows out, I’m going to be looking at the same loser that had to end things only because Taekyung wouldn’t, the same one that he thought he was too good for, and I’m scared, because the longer I put it off, the worse it will all come crashing down.”
Chenle hums. “I don’t know. I still think you’ll be fine, but I do understand that you do need to work through some things.” He smooths down Jisung’s hair into a goofy centre-part, a small smile resting on his lips at the sight. “You can talk to me about it.”
“I know that,” nods Jisung. “I’m going to try and ease myself into it, it’s just a weird realization and kind of a mental block. You’re the easiest to talk to about it because I don’t think at all about the way I look around you.”
“Exactly,” says Chenle, as Jisung gets up to come sit on the couch next to him, squeezing his arm and whispering a thank-you. “You’re the same to me regardless of your hair colour.”
He wishes he meant it.
He feels indecent all over again, not enthusiastic to know if filthy lies are easier to live with than filthy thoughts.
NOW
Suddenly, it all makes sense.
Chenle was telling the truth.
They’d already made plans a week ago, after three weeks of being too busy to see each other, between Chenle’s school year kicking off and Jisung getting assigned to manage a large project.
In some ways it was good, because it gave Chenle some time to finally be able to stand up, look himself in the mirror, and admit to himself that maybe, just maybe, he may not be straight.
He’d never really contemplated it before. Women were great, kind and smart and gorgeous, so Chenle didn’t have many reasons to even glance in another direction, other than a singular one that only just caught up to him.
So he does want Jisung. Or he did, at least.
It was easier to tackle once Chenle picked up the nerve to admit it to himself, taking a long walk to think about why this could be, to land on the conclusion that the drastic change in Jisung’s appearance caught Chenle off-guard and unintentionally made Chenle realize that maybe he did want to kiss boys who wear slutty half-buttoned button-downs and push their hair away from their forehead.
But that’s not who Jisung is at all, by his own admission, so logically, it isn’t Jisung that Chenle wants.
His misery was supposed to end today. Jisung had texted to say that he was feeling a little under the weather so it was okay if Chenle didn’t want to come over – which Chenle took extremely personally because well now he had to go. He stopped by at the supermarket for ingredients for stew before lugging them up the three flights of stairs to Jisung’s apartment, cursing under his breath and contemplating returning to the gym the entire way because his stamina has turned to absolute dogshit recently.
He’d spent half an hour trimming away the last remnants of bleach from Jisung’s hair, because Jisung had gotten way too sick of the last of the dry fraying ends, a sensory nightmare whenever his bangs were in his face. Chenle would be travelling next week but also had made Jisung swear not to go back to that shitty salon near his house again, so it had to be today, with Jisung issuing a warning every time he needed to sneeze so that Chenle didn’t accidentally take off a whole section of his hair.
Seeing Jisung in the mirror with the same fluffy pitch-dark style that Chenle’s used to had felt like a breath of relief. Chenle had finally made his peace with whatever parasites had been living in his brain and screaming their desire for his best friend for the last eight months, had finally silenced them once and for all.
But then Jisung felt too achy to take a whole shower, so Chenle wrapped a towel over Jisung's shoulders as he manoeuvred the handheld shower over his hair, making Jisung lean his head back against the edge of the bathtub. Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut as Chenle massaged shampoo into his hair and rinsed it out. There was peace draped gently over Jisung’s expression, a rarity considering that his features are generally tight with concentration and worry and annoyance.
Maybe that was just around Chenle, considering how much they bicker, but Chenle hadn’t ever seen this expression on Jisung’s face around anyone else either.
Chenle gently tilts Jisung’s head forward. “Don’t fall asleep, I’ll just put a pillow here and leave you here.”
Jisung hums, eyes still closed, tiny water droplets clinging onto his eyelashes. “And then you’ll have to live the rest of your life on the run after being the last person to see me alive.”
“First of all, I am very good with disguises,” says Chenle. It’s true, his Halloween costumes are one of the only things he puts real effort into. He won Best Costume thrice in a row in middle school and it went right to his head. “Second of all, you’re not going to die, you drama queen.”
Jisung pouts, blinking his eyes open slowly. His jet-black hair is plastered to his forehead, head resting against the edge of the bathtub as he looks up at Chenle, puffy cheeks splotched with sickness and misery, blinks slow and measured, a small smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, tired and gentle.
Of course. Of course. It was never about the blond.
An entirely different chorus has started singing in Chenle’s cranium, a much louder congregation, and they don’t just have a little incessant horny crush on Jisung, no.
They’re in love with Jisung.
Chenle hasn’t ever fallen in love in his life, but there’s a part of him that just knows that this is what it must be. Every cell in his body goes on high alert, like they’ve all rebooted at the same time.
The smile on Jisung’s face melts into concern, and Chenle internally curses his face’s inability to ever hold anything back, because now it’s Chenle who can’t look Jisung in the eye. He pulls the towel over Jisung’s head just to have something to do with his shaky hands, gently drying off Jisung’s wet hair.
Jisung’s hand wraps around Chenle’s wrist midway, and Chenle stills, voice strained as he asks, “Does it hurt? Should I be softer? Should I—"
“Chenle,” says Jisung simply, and Chenle pulls the towel away to show his face, hands resting on Jisung’s shoulders as his heart drops to his stomach. Jisung never calls him Chenle.
But Jisung doesn’t have anything to follow that up with, simply peering up at Chenle with eyes that ask too many questions that Chenle doesn’t have the answers for currently.
It isn’t the worst thing in the world, Chenle knows that, but he’s suddenly aware of every moment that led up to this, suddenly aware of every implication, and it’s too much for him.
The air feels like mercury, and Chenle can’t breathe, because he knows every detail of Jisung’s face. He’s been paying too much attention, he let himself get too comfortable with thinking that maybe the weird feeling in his chest would pass once Jisung looked like Jisung again. He didn’t bother to disentangle any knots that his thoughts were getting into and now he’s all tied up in this predicament, barely able to digest that despite all the familiarity, Jisung has managed to shake his whole foundation yet again.
“I went on a date yesterday,” blurts out Chenle.
Jisung blinks, once, twice, thrice. “Oh. What was she like?”
Chenle swallows thickly. “He was alright. Nothing happened.” It doesn’t matter that he said that. There’s a bullet hole in Chenle’s foot and the gun is warm in his hand.
Jisung’s eyes narrow just slightly, lips pressing together. He nods slowly as he extricates himself gently from Chenle’s touch. “That’s cool,” he says with a gargantuan effort, taking a deep breath as he braces himself of the edge of the bathtub to push himself up, shaking his bangs in front of his face to hide his eyes. “You want to tell me about it next time? I feel like I really need to sleep because this headache is just not getting better.”
“Okay, but your hair’s still damp—”
“I’ll live,” says Jisung, and for a second he sounds curt before he turns and smiles once more at Chenle as he reaches the door. “Thanks for coming over, Le, I appreciate it.”
He ambles to bed. Chenle makes a large batch of stew and puts it in Jisung’s fridge before he leaves, hand resting on the doorknob like he knows that the regret will crush him for real this time as soon as he walks away.
It isn’t too surprising that he lost his nerve, though – Chenle barely survived kissing Jisung the first time anyway.
← FOUR YEARS AGO
Renjun should have added a dress code to the invitation, because this has to be some kind of cruel prank.
Chenle is the only one at this fancy party in an ugly Christmas sweater.
Well, almost the only one.
There’s someone else who seems even more embarrassed than him, sitting in the corner with a glass of eggnog cradled in his obscenely large hands. He seems to be trying to occupy as little space as possible, a feat he is failing miserably at considering that his bright green sweater is not doing the best job at detracting attention away from him.
“Did you two come together?” asks Jaemin, amused in his fancy white suit. How did everyone else get the memo?
“No, I have no idea who that is,” says Chenle, as the other guy turns to look at him, their eyes meeting briefly before he turns back to his cup of eggnog.
“Park Jisung, he’s in his final year,” says Renjun, decked out like a divorcee as he hands Chenle a cup of hot chocolate. “Go say hi, he’s friends with Jeno.”
“Oh, perfect,” says Jaemin, sweeping away from Chenle before Renjun has the chance to continue. Chenle stifles a laugh as Jaemin has probably one of the most awkward encounters of his life – not everyone is built prepared for the dramatics that come with being friends with Na Jaemin, and he certainly seems to have turned that up to a hundred because Park Jisung looks afraid of him by the end of their short conversation.
Chenle decides to spare the guy from his company for then, to give him some time to recover from being flashed by all sixty of Jaemin’s teeth, but they run into each other in the kitchen later, when they’re both surveying the tray of Christmas cookies that Renjun has put out.
“Do you want to join forces?” asks Chenle abruptly.
“I’m sorry?” Jisung’s eyebrows shoot into his bangs, startled.
“No, it’s just,” Chenle gestures between them. “We’re the only ones here in ugly Christmas sweaters.”
“You think my sweater’s ugly?” asks Jisung, tilting his head. “My grandmother made it for me before she passed away.”
Chenle flinches. “No, I’m so sorry, I—”
Jisung’s expression breaks into a smile. “I’m joking.”
“Oh!” Chenle’s shoulders relax as he holds out his hand. “I’m Chenle.”
“I know,” nods Jisung. “Everyone here knows you and they all seem to think we planned this.”
Chenle tamps down the way his ego immediately preens at hearing the words everyone here knows you. “Maybe we did and we just weren’t aware.”
“Unintentional telepathy?”
“You get it,” nods Chenle solemnly, laughing when he catches the delight on Jisung’s face. He comes across as really harmless, but in a good way. “So I can consider our forces officially joined?”
“Sure, why not,” says Jisung indulgently, picking up a cookie. “No idea how that’s going to help us fit in any better, but yeah.”
“Nah, it’s just less embarrassing to have company,” says Chenle, picking up an identical cookie. “Cheers.” They tap their cookies together and take a bite, stifling laughter.
Jisung is not the most social person Chenle has ever met, but he’s straightforward and good at conversation when it’s just them. He keeps getting distracted by another boy with a crewcut through their initial conversation, something that he admits to as soon as Chenle calls him out on it.
“So he may be the reason,” Jisung’s cheeks are flaming red, Chenle didn’t even know it was possible for a human being to turn that colour. “That, you know, I came to this party in the first place.”
“Is this like a pre-existing crush? Or just a fascination? Or did you just see a handsome guy on the street and follow him into this party?” asks Chenle, sipping on his gin hass. “I hope it’s not the last one.”
“It is—no, it’s not,” chuckles Jisung. “His name’s Taekyung, he’s in some of my classes, and I don’t know how to even start a conversation with him. I think he’s just gorgeous though, but I turn into an idiot around good-looking people.”
“You’ve been coming across to me as very smart tonight, so I see how it is,” says Chenle snarkily, continuing when Jisung laughs. “Seriously, you know what would be even better? He’s a smoker, there was a pack in his pocket, so you know that he’s going to go to the balcony at some point of time.”
“Okay…” nods Jisung slowly.
“Renjun has some extra mistletoe in his room, so we can put it out there and when he goes out to smoke, you get a definite conversation starter,” says Chenle. “Well, I don’t know how much conversation you’d be having, but your lips will definitely be busy in some way or the other.”
“I feel like I’d pass out,” says Jisung, shaking his head before his eyes wander back to gazing in Taekyung’s direction, even as the wistfulness is slowly contaminated by restrained curiosity. “To jump straight to kissing?”
“Please, I kiss people all the time,” says Chenle flippantly. “It’s a good time, you don’t have to get attached, and you often just end up not crossing paths afterwards. Come on, dude, you’re in your last year of your bachelor’s, shouldn’t you also be experienced at randomly making out with people at parties?”
“Aren’t you also a bachelor’s student?”
“Master’s. Final year. We do three years plus two years.”
“No way,” breathes Jisung, like the higher education system is somehow all Chenle’s fault. “We do a five-year bachelor’s in architecture. So we’re the same age, I think.”
“Exactly, so why don’t you have as much experience as me?”
“I feel like this is more degree-dependant than age-dependant, because you have less shame as a master’s student,” says Jisung. “No, I’m joking, I just don’t go to a lot of parties.”
“Then seize the moment, dude, you got this,” says Chenle encouragingly. “Worst case, just get a little drunk and everything becomes easier.”
They sneak into Renjun’s room and affix the mistletoe to the ceiling of the balcony clumsily. Chenle can see how often Jisung glances in Taekyung’s direction, he knows that he won’t be missing that shot.
They play Never Have I Ever and Jisung has to take multiple shots of soju, colour blooming over his cheeks. Chenle is three cocktails and a couple shots in himself, and he’s already snuck off once to make out with a girl who realized midway that she remembered him from one of their classes where he made a really terrible presentation, and then continued kissing him anyway, even if it took Chenle a minute to get back into the mood and stop formulating an adequate defence on his performance in that particular assignment.
They play Spin the Bottle as well, making very loud jokes about how they’re playing this as adults and not having a good time, but Chenle can see the way the deep crease between Jaemin’s eyebrows smoothens out into pure elation when the bottle points in Jeno’s direction. He is definitely having a good time, the whipped liar.
Chenle is having a good time himself, getting to kiss three different people – one on the cheek because he has a girlfriend and neither of them swing that way anyway, just a slight peck with another, and bordering on exhibitionism with the last one. (But then again, what is Spin the Bottle but an invitation to be an exhibitionist?)
Jisung is sitting this one out, a light pink dusted over his cheeks as he sits cross-legged by Chenle’s side. Taekyung gets up and goes to the balcony towards the end of the game, and Chenle nods to Jisung as he scrambles to get up and follow him after waiting a couple minutes to give the appearance of nonchalance.
Taekyung returns a short while later, but Jisung isn’t with him, so Chenle goes to check once the game is done, and Jisung has his arms crossed as he struggles to conserve some warmth, having forgotten to take his coat with him.
“Did you chicken out, dude?” asks Chenle, closing the door behind him.
“A little,” says Jisung with an embarrassed smile. “And I got so mortified that I just stayed out here.”
“You could have asked him for a light.”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Me neither. There’s something flirty about sharing a cigarette together though,” says Chenle. “Come back in, it’s safe, you look unbothered enough.”
Jisung peels himself away from the wall, nose and cheeks red with the whip of the wind, tripping over flat ground and tumbling right into Chenle, pressing Chenle’s back against the railing of the balcony, arms gripping Jisung’s own.
In Chenle’s hazy vision, he can see the green and red of the mistletoe right beyond Jisung’s head.
“Sorry,” whispers Jisung, breath tinged with alcohol. He giggles, and Chenle is momentarily endeared. “I don’t drink very often.” He follows Chenle’s gaze and then looks back when he realizes what Chenle is looking at.
“Should we…?” asks Jisung, tentatively. There are no witnesses around, they don’t have to. “I mean, it’s just a stupid tradition.”
Chenle’s in a good mood. He’s sure there’s a concrete reason why he wouldn’t be doing this, but his brain feels like static, grounded by the way Jisung’s arms are curving around his biceps. “It’s just a kiss, yeah? No big deal.”
Chenle has never kissed a man before. The opportunity has never really presented itself – Jaemin says it’s because of Chenle’s chronic Straight Dude Energy – and since women are great to kiss and Chenle can intuitively understand the appeal of attractive men making out with each other, he hasn’t really considered partaking in it.
There’s something about the tentative look on Jisung’s face, the way his teeth bite down on his bottom lip as he waits for Chenle to do something, the nonchalance at being in such close proximity, and how all of that contributes to Chenle’s head filling with a burning curiosity.
Chenle shrugs, pushing himself up on his tippy-toes to press his lips against Jisung’s softly. Jisung’s lips are soft, slightly ajar, and for a second, Chenle consciously lets go of his thoughts, giving in to the temptation to cautiously deepen the kiss. Jisung bends slightly, arm wrapping around Chenle’s torso so that Chenle does not need to tiptoe the entire way, responding to Chenle with a gentle firmness that has Chenle feeling dizzy in ways that have nothing to do with alcohol.
Jisung kisses in an all-encompassing way, and Chenle feels like he’s dissolving into the moment, barely registering when he runs out of breath.
There’s something about Jisung’s smile when Chenle pulls away, something about the way his eyelashes flutter shyly, something about his small laugh when he says I’m way too drunk, I would have never done this sober but it doesn’t feel like much in that moment, because Chenle laughs and says yeah, me too.
The next day, however, it feels like so much more – Chenle, for the first time, feels regret.
This has never happened to him before. Chenle has kissed people across the board – he’s kissed people who had no experience kissing before and other people who knew how to do things with their tongue that only come from a lot of practice. They all come and go, they’re all good experiences in some way, and he’s never been stuck thinking about a kiss the day after, regretting that he didn’t kiss them enough.
Until now.
The memory fades eventually, rationalized as it just being Chenle surprised that a man could kiss so well. He almost forgets that the encounter happened at all until he runs into Jisung the next time a year later at his new coworker’s promotion party, and a dizzying headrush hits Chenle when Donghyuck introduces Jisung as his first cousin.
And then introduces Taekyung as Jisung’s boyfriend.
Whatever. Who cares. Good for him, he finally got it together.
Chenle breathes a sigh of relief knowing it must have just been an errant what-if that managed to lodge itself in his brain before it was quickly cut down, because he doesn’t feel anything but platonic affection when he and Jisung pair up to destroy Yangyang and Chan at table tennis.
They start seeing each other more after that, having conversations when Jisung comes to drop things off for Donghyuck until they start making actual plans to hang out, and everything is fine and good and plain dandy.
Oh nothing, I’m just hanging out with my best friend, says Jisung on the phone to his cousin two years in, and it feels right.
Besides, the only real thing that Jisung seems to remember about that night is the sweaters, so Chenle settles in comfortably with the idea that they will never need to talk about it, thank god for that.
← FOUR MONTHS AGO
There’s no aha! moment, no big realization.
Chenle has his head on Jisung’s lap, scrolling on his phone searching for a particular actress that he swears he’s seen in something else while an episode of Psych runs the background, and Jisung’s hands are tangled in Chenle’s hair, twisting the wavy locks into braids just to have something to do with his hands.
It’s been a long day and Jisung is stressed while also being tired to the bone, nervous energy trapped in all his limbs with no way out, and Chenle, who hates having anyone touch his hair, is letting Jisung make tiny stiff braids that stick out in all directions.
Come to think of it, Chenle doesn’t let anyone else touch his glasses either, but was okay with Jisung taking them off his face and keeping it on the side table. It should not make Jisung feel this special every time it happens, but it does.
“I fucking knew it,” says Chenle, shoving his phone in Jisung’s face as he looks up with a proud smile that makes Jisung’s heart trip over its own rhythm. “She’s even hotter in this though.”
It’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? Falling in love with your best friend, especially when there’s no way they’ll love you back.
Jisung takes a deep breath and makes his peace with it. For everything beautiful and annoying that Chenle is, Jisung’s surprised he remained standing for this long anyway.
ONE MONTH LATER →
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me?” gasps Chenle. The summer air is humid on his face, and even in the ghostly cool-toned lighting, Jisung – though mildly dishevelled and completely displeased – still looks like the most beautiful person Chenle has ever laid eyes on. “You just carried me like a sack of rice! What is wrong with you?”
“You were getting into a fight,” reminds Jisung, arms crossed and glare cutting. “What even possessed you to do that?”
“He was just out here saying shit,” says Chenle, gesturing helplessly. The last thing he wants to do is repeat anything that was said, but he also doesn’t want to come off looking insane and aggressive for no reason. “And I wasn’t the one starting the fight!”
“He was drunk,” says Jisung, shaking his head. “People say stupid shit when they’re drunk, dude, that doesn’t mean you get into fights with them, especially ones you can’t win. You’re not that stupid.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to sit here and let someone talk shit about you—” The urge to argue back is strong, built into Chenle like factory settings, but he’s briefly distracted. “Did you just call me dude?”
“Yes,” nods Jisung, as he directs his gaze at his shoes. “Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all,” says Chenle, crossing his arms, trying and failing to keep the hurt off his face as the consequences of his actions thud down on him like a pile of bricks. “Whatever, dude. Didn’t know we were that nonchalant now. Really undercuts the romance thing that I was trying to introduce into our dynamic.”
Jisung’s eyebrows draw together like he’s trying to decode a particularly hard cipher. “What?”
Chenle takes a deep breath. ”I’m in love with you?”
“Yeah, right. What happened with the guy you were dating?”
“He wasn’t you,” says Chenle firmly, words tight in his throat. “I don’t know, I thought this was my moment to realize that I like men, but I don’t.” He’d swiftly shut down any future prospects the moment the other guy had texted him again, the relief flooding him afterwards informing him that he did the right thing. “I only like you. So, so much.”
Jisung’s eyes widen. “Wait, you’re being serious.”
“Oh my god, do you think I would ever admit to being in love even as a joke?” huffs Chenle, crossing his arms petulantly, hiding his face with his hand as his ears go a bright red. This is mortifying. Love is so embarrassing. Maybe Chenle should wade back into the fight and let Hyunyeo put him out of his misery.
Jisung’s lips tremble slightly, and Chenle thinks he can see a smile peeking through, albeit still tinged with disbelief. “So you were like, what, defending my honour or something in there?”
“A little,” shrugs Chenle, relaxing his posture in tandem with Jisung’s. “Are you into that?”
“No, but I’m flattered,” says Jisung, and there’s definitely a smile resting on his lips now, still restrained like he hasn’t fully realized that he’s living this conversation. “I would always prefer seeing you safe than in a fight.”
“Noted.”
Jisung returns the affirmative nod, taking a beat before he adds, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that from the fact that you didn’t run screaming in the other direction when I told you that I was,” says Chenle, grin unfurling across his face like the sun rising.
“Great deductive skills,” smiles Jisung, even as his body sways forward like he’s falling victim to Chenle’s gravity already. “Are you finally going to kiss me?”
“I mean, I guess, but what would be the fun in that—” Chenle runs out of patience before the end of his tease, words running into each other as he unsteadily steps forward to throw his arms around Jisung’s neck, meeting him halfway in a mess of clashing teeth. They nearly fall over because of the way they crash together, but Jisung’s steady hands find Chenle’s waist easily, thumbs pushed into the belt loops of Chenle’s jeans as he kisses him feverishly, messy and desperate, like they’d been waiting forever and it had all been worth it.
Chenle takes a step forward, pushing his palms against the wall to trap Jisung there, pulling away slightly just to see Jisung smile, all but melting into Chenle when Chenle leans in again to kiss Jisung softly, working his fingers into Jisung’s hair, looping curls around his fingertips. “You’re so pretty,” whispers Chenle into the kiss, feeling the response in the way Jisung’s nails dig into his hip, Jisung’s smile against his lips.
They end up tangled in the backseat of Jisung’s car, on Chenle’s couch, finally falling asleep in Chenle’s bed, and Chenle wakes up with his forehead pressed against Jisung’s bare collarbone.
“You’re so warm,” complains Jisung sleepily, running his fingers through Chenle’s hair as Chenle shifts closer, throwing an arm and leg over Jisung.
“Get used to it,” smiles Chenle. “I’m keeping you forever.”
Chenle has never meant anything more.