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This is their routine.
Every night, the two fall asleep together in their shared bed, buried underneath thick covers. Usually, Dan Heng is the first one to turn away from him after they talk for a bit. Then Ren is left there, staring at the smaller man's back, wishing for more but not being able to muster up the courage to request it.
He knows he can ask, but Dan Heng seems tired.
And Ren isn't the type to beg for affection.
So instead of communicating, he waits.
Waits until Dan Heng falls asleep and he finally lets out a choked sob, desperate for even an ounce of Dan Heng's love and affection. He feels rejected, like he's a pathetic waste of space next to the person he loves so dearly. He wants to wrap his arms around Dan Heng, pulling him close and gently lay his head on his lover's chest, listening to the younger man's steady heartbeat.
He wants so badly, but he cannot bring himself to ask.
So he stays there, rooted in his spot, feeling absolutely pathetic for wanting more.
The distance between them is too much.
Too much for Ren to handle, but he doesn't make any move to close the distance, in fear of waking up Dan Heng for such a silly reason and potentially being chastised for it.
He knows Dan Heng wouldn't.
But he fears.
He's afraid of his rejection.
Ren exhales slowly, urging himself to calm down before he gets too strung up on it.
This is routine; this always happens.
Ren is always left feeling unwanted by the end of the night and barely manages to lull himself asleep, his headspace slowly sinking further and further, twisting every one of his lover's inactions into those of scalding hot rejection.
He stares and stares, wondering if he’s worthy enough.
How can his lover be so calm, sleep so peacefully when he's practically on the verge of tears, desperate to claw at his own skin to distract himself from his thoughts?
Love turns into bitter resentment.
His once outstretched hand slowly forms into a fist as he curls into himself, finally willing himself to turn away from Dan Heng. He can’t fall asleep no matter how hard he tries, and instead begins spiraling, his thoughts become more intrusive and intense as time goes on.
The voices in his head are so unbearably loud.
They won’t shut up.
The pillow is drenched in his tears and all Ren wants—needs is for Dan Heng to just look at him, to hold him close, to quiet down the loud voices blaring in his head, screaming at him to hurt himself—to cut deep into his skin until crimson appears.
‘Please’, Ren silently begs, sneaking a small glance over his shoulder at Dan Heng, who is deep asleep.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Ren sinks further into that destructive feeling, allowing it to take him apart piece by piece until nothing remains apart from an empty shell.
It’s better to feel nothing rather than to want pitifully like this, isn’t it?
He’s wasting away.
He closes his eyes, desperate to drive these insignificant thoughts away. He no longer wants to think anymore, not about Dan Heng, not about their ambiguous relationship or where they even stand.
He simply wishes everything could stop.
Eventually, Ren falls asleep, wishing to never wake up again.