Archive of Our Own ^beta

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1. HEAT

The first match is struck by a likely source. If you asked Donghyuck one year ago to guess a probable instigator, Chenle Zhong would have been the first name leaving his lips. 

Said source’s voice drifts toward Donghyuck as he steps into the warmth of his apartment, subtle shivers racking his form.

The weather had taken a sudden dive into finger-numbing territory throughout the day—which happens so often in Chicago, or anywhere in the Midwest, really, that it should have been predictable—but Donghyuck had left his apartment earlier with nothing more than his tragically useless windbreaker as protection. 

Of course the weather app lied to me, he thinks as Chenle’s voice booms on the other side of the wall. 

“—perfect! It’s been years!” 

Donghyuck can hear Renjun say something in response—but it’s so low that he has to strain his ears a little and even then he can’t make out the words—and then Chenle guffaws, laughter drowning Renjun’s voice out completely. 

“He’d be over the moon if he knew you were even slightly interested in him, are you seri—” 

Donghyuck freezes in the entryway now, midway through toeing his shoes off, and his friends’ voices go warbled like his head’s been dunked underwater. He’s struck with sudden understanding that he’s just caught pieces of a conversation about… someone Renjun’s interested in? 

His heart misses a beat, while his mind absorbs the new information like a reflex.

“Why’s everyone mentioning this lately? Honestly—”

“Honey, I’m home,” Donghyuck calls out, partially to announce his presence and also so he can try to absolve himself of any guilt that may come from further eavesdropping. 

The apartment goes quiet near instantly, and when he steps into view of the living room, Renjun and Chenle are both turned his way. 

Chenle has a gleeful glint in his eye, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips, while Renjun’s expression is indecipherable. It’s the same mask he dons when he’s trying to conceal his true feelings about something, and Donghyuck’s confused as to why he’s wearing it now.

“Brought dinner,” Donghyuck goes on, ignoring the danger bells ringing in his head in alert that something is off, and holds up two bags full of takeout boxes from the Chinese restaurant a few blocks over. “Wanna join us, Chenle?”

“Nah,” Chenle waves him off. “But thanks for the offer.”

He stands, shaking his legs out before moving to gather his belongings scattered around the room, lost in a maze of cardboard boxes. The majority of which still have their flaps taped shut, Donghyuck notes.

“Wow, it’s late,” Chenle says after a glance at his lock screen. “My baby must be starving at home.” 

“Are you talking about Daegal or Mark?” Donghyuck asks, half-joking, as he sets his bags on the counter. 

Chenle shoves an arm into his coat. “Both,” he emphasizes. He then pats his pockets down a few times before his eyes dart around the room. “I think I left my wallet in your room, Renjun.”

“I’ll get it,” Renjun replies, disappearing into the short hallway that connects to their bedrooms before Donghyuck can even blink. 

Donghyuck stares after him with a small frown, only tearing his eyes away to focus on Chenle as the younger continues, “Jaemin said he won’t be back until late, so I need to get back before Mark sets something on fire.”

Donghyuck winces. “Been there. You should call him on your way back, keep him on the line with you just in case.” He’s only throwing out another half-joke, but Chenle’s eyebrows pinch together like he’s mulling the suggestion over seriously. “How’s Mark doing with the lessons by the way? Make anything edible yet?”

Chenle’s eyes light up at the question. “Believe it or not, he made fried rice the other day that wasn’t half-bad. And Jaemin and I only had to remind him to watch the burner like twice.”

Donghyuck perks an eyebrow, unable to help but be a little impressed. 

He hadn’t been expecting much when Jaemin had started giving Mark little pointers that turned into full-on cooking classes in their kitchen, considering Mark’s track record.

The first time Donghyuck was a witness to the elder’s cooking in their freshman dorm’s kitchenette, it had left him and the rest of their building standing outside in the dead of the night, fire alarm blaring. By the time they’d trekked back up the stairs to their floor, Mark had unanimously been banned from touching another stovetop for a full year, sentenced by a jury composed of Donghyuck, Jeno, and Mark himself.

All that to say: Jaemin proves himself a miracle worker once more. “Wow, can Jaeminnie give me cooking lessons too?” Though, knowing what those lessons turned into, maybe Donghyuck should pass on that.

“You could probably hold classes yourself, you know,” comes Renjun’s voice as he reappears, passing a phone over to Chenle’s waiting hands.

“Ah, I see the way to your heart now, Renjunnie. Tell me what you want for dinner tomorrow, anything, I’ll make it,” Donghyuck declares.

Renjun snorts—and Donghyuck’s fully grinning now—but then his eyes dart from Donghyuck to Chenle, and there’s a flash of annoyance that transforms his features, which Donghyuck can’t help but follow, curious. He finds Chenle looking at Renjun pointedly, but before Donghyuck can fully dissect the expression, the blond has one hand on the handle and one foot out the door. “I’ll see you both on the 22nd, okay? My place, 7:30, don’t be late!” He says in a single breath, slipping out the door and slamming it shut in one sweeping motion, and he’s gone before Donghyuck can even lift a hand to wave bye in return. 

He blinks twice. 

There are questions on the tip of his tongue, but he isn’t quite sure how to word them. Especially since some of them have to do with what he’d overheard earlier, though that doesn’t really feel like a subject Donghyuck should press, considering the look on Renjun’s face when Donghyuck first came in. 

As much as Donghyuck loves sowing tiny little seeds of chaos and watching them bloom, he never pushes things too far, out to a place he knows he can’t come back from. Mark once begrudgingly admitted, "Somehow, no one can ever stay mad at you. It’s like your superpower." And that's because Donghyuck never starts fires he can’t put out. It’s part of his charm, a facet that helps him smooth things over and stay in everyone’s good graces at the end of the day.

So, although he wants to ask, he doesn't. Instead, he turns toward Renjun, who shrugs and makes a shoo-ing motion with his hand. “Alright, go wash up. I’ll get plates.” He reaches for the bags Donghyuck left on the counter earlier and starts sifting through containers of food.

“I can run them in the microwave, I think they got a little cold on the walk over,” Donghyuck already has one hand outstretched, but Renjun nudges him in the direction of his room with an elbow and incline of his head. 

“I can do it,” says Renjun, swiftly gathering the boxes. “Just go wash up so we can eat, I’m starving.” Donghyuck surveys the table for a moment, fingers itching to be useful. 

He makes the fatal mistake of glancing at Renjun beside him, because the thought Renjun likes someone flashes in his head, unbidden, like blinding high-beams coming on. 

“Quickly,” Renjun adds. “If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m starting without you.” 

Blinking, Donghyuck shoves the thought into a box and smacks yellow caution tape on it. 

“You wouldn’t,” he states confidently, defiant, but his feet are already moving in the direction of his room. 

Renjun glances at him, lips turned up, sickly sweet as he asks, “Wanna find out?” which has Donghyuck shouting, “Alright, I’m going… don’t miss me too much while I’m gone, babe!” 

“I won’t then!” Renjun calls back as he shuffles around the kitchen, and Donghyuck can’t help but grin as he slips into his room, side-stepping a few boxes that are perched outside the opposite door. 

He comes back out ten minutes later, freshly showered and changed into one of his many black shirts and a pair of gray and purple sweatpants leftover from his university days. He’d been tempted to dawdle under the warm stream of water for a bit longer, but he was more enticed by the smells that had been wafting toward him during his walk back to the apartment. Plus, there’s Renjun, who probably wouldn’t actually start eating without him but Donghyuck doesn’t really feel like testing it.

Renjun who, true to word, has set out plates on the compact two-person dining table that Donghyuck still hasn’t gotten around to replacing since graduating two and a half years ago. He’s sitting there now, scrolling through his phone one-handedly, and only looks up when he hears the tell-tale sound of an iPhone capturing a picture. “What’re you doing?” 

“Well, I was standing here, thinking about how I want this moment to last longer. Then… you know how the saying goes.” Donghyuck pockets his phone as he crosses the room. “This is our first dinner and night together, Renjunnie! We can show our kids this when we’re telling them our love story!”

Renjun huffs a laugh as he rolls his eyes, which is a reaction Donghyuck has been on the receiving end of many times before. Before the other can say anything in response though, Donghyuck changes the subject with a smile, wading into safer waters, “How was the rest of moving in? Sorry again that I couldn’t be here for most of it. We’re being pushed to wrap recording up by the end of the month, as if we’re not already busting our asses here.” 

Donghyuck takes the seat opposite Renjun as the other admonishes, “And I already said it’s okay. Stop apologizing.” He reaches for one of the boxes, prying the folds open as he continues, “Moving in was alright, we got everything inside in one piece. The biggest problem was that Jisung labeled the boxes, and we had no idea which rooms they were supposed to go to. We just guessed and hoped for the best.” 

The corners of Renjun’s lips quirk upward as he recounts the day’s events, and Donghyuck can’t help but linger on it. A moth readily heading toward a flame, still, after all this time. 

Donghyuck’s previous thought suddenly tries to claw its way out of the box he’d sealed it in. 

Renjun—

Renjun glances up, eyes bright, still smiling as he pushes a container of soup dumplings closer to Donghyuck, and the thought dissipates like smoke. 

☀️

That is, until Jisung comes along a few nights later. 

“Stop dying, hyung, please,” Jisung begs desperately as he rapidly assaults his gaming mouse, each individual click! coming through Donghyuck’s headphones.

A frustrated groan slips past Donghyuck’s lips as his screen counts down the seconds until Morgana revives. They’re definitely going to lose this match, much like their six previous matches, but the cardinal rule of every gamer is you can’t end on a loss.

Which is probably why his phone display offers up the numbers 2:18 when Donghyuck blinks down at it wearily. 

Just as he predicts, they lose. Terribly. “Hyung,” Jisung huffs. “Let’s call it a night.”

“Jisung, we can’t quit now,” he protests. “Do you want the last six games to be for nothing? Let’s take ten, we’ll win the next one.”

And Jisung caves almost instantly, like Donghyuck had known he would. “Fine.” Donghyuck gives himself a mental pat on the back as he stands to retrieve the Nuneul Gamja bag he’d stored on the other side of the room, a measure taken to curb his snacking and also avoid accidentally covering his keycaps in grease. “I’m starving though.”

There’s shuffling on the other end as Jisung presumably moves into his kitchen. The sound of running water comes through shortly after, and Jisung seems to be in an especially talkative mood tonight as he chatters, “You know, this is one of the few times I’m glad I’m living alone.” 

“What, you don’t miss living with Jeno?” Donghyuck gasps, mock-scandalized, just because he can’t miss an opportunity. 

The water cuts off abruptly. “Aish,” Jisung says, exasperated, the colloquialism slipping through as it always does whenever they’re speaking in their mother tongue, something Donghyuck really only does around Jisung and his parents. “That’s a whole new sentence, hyung. I’m only saying it’s nice. I can make ramen in the middle of the night without bothering anyone. I’m worried about Renjun actually, how’s he going to put up with living with you?”

“Put up with me?” Donghyuck squawks. “Yah, how do you know it’s not the other way around? Hm? Maybe Renjun’s a bad roommate.” They’ve only been living together for a few days, but he’s not. “Maybe he leaves dishes in the sink and throws his clothes everywhere.” He’s actually very diligent about folding laundry and making sure that the sink is pristine before heading off to bed each night. “Maybe he’s even awake right now.” He definitely isn’t. 

“Uh-huh,” Jisung says, unmoved. Donghyuck drops it because it’s clearly a lost cause if he can’t even convince Jisung. “Did you forget that I lived with Renjun for a year?”

“That was, like, four years ago. Of course I forgot.”

Once upon a time—around the time dinosaurs still roamed the surface of the planet, Donghyuck estimates—Jisung and Renjun had lived together, along with Yangyang Liu, brought together by mutual friend Jaemin Na.

Four years ago, as in one whole year before Donghyuck had met Renjun. Really, you can’t blame him for this slipping his mind. He’s been a little preoccupied with making the best of things in the good old year of 3 A.R.E. (the After Renjun Era). Why would he want to dwell on the dark ages before Renjun?

After Jisung’s freshman year though, he’d moved in with Jeno, which Chenle had swiftly submitted as evidence for his “Jisung and Jeno are in love” claim. All the while, Jaemin and Renjun found an apartment off-campus together and stayed there for the next three years.

The catalyst in the chain reaction of Renjun and Donghyuck moving in together was, weirdly enough, Mark Lee finding love. Donghyuck’s best friend, other half of their band Golden Hour, and now ex-roommate. 

It just so happened that Mark realized he was in love with Chenle while falling in love with Jaemin, these two developments occurring back-to-back within the span of three months. Unlike the former revelation, which had been years in the making and visible from a mile away, the latter had been unexpected, so props to Mark for managing to surprise Donghyuck. 

For weeks, the 2Lee apartment had been subjected to a tsunami of emotions, conversations late into the night, nearly two hundred pages of scrawled lyrics, and endless tubs of Häagen-dazs Cookies & Cream ice cream. The waves had finally crested and crashed shortly after Valentine’s and was now thankfully all behind them. 

The aftermath, however, came ashore a few months later when the trio sat them down together, not unlike parents breaking the news of divorce to their unsuspecting children.

The way they explained it was: Jaemin and Mark were thinking about moving in with Chenle once their leases were up, which would leave both Renjun and Donghyuck with a spare bedroom to fill, and Donghyuck’s apartment was closer to Renjun’s workplace anyway, and—

Things sorted themselves out, like puzzle pieces finding their places. 

And voilá, here they are. 

“I’ll pray for Renjun tonight,” Jisung conveys solemnly.

Donghyuck scowls down at his phone. He can picture Jisung on the other end right now, probably holding an earnest hand over his heart like the national anthem is about to come on.

“Don’t be a brat.” His headphones echo with the low rumble of Jisung’s laughter. Then, drumming the fingers of his non-potato-chip-hand atop his desk thoughtfully, Donghyuck asks, “Is Renjun really the perfect roommate?”

“Well, no. I hated living with someone who was kind, clean, and respectful of my space,” Jisung deadpans. 

“Right, of course. Renjun is perfect. What am I even saying?” Donghyuck agrees, spinning in his chair as he tosses another chip into his mouth that has him humming appreciatively. How he truly loves H Mart. 

“And I’ve lost him,” grumbles Jisung. “For real though, Renjun was a great roommate. I did come home to a few impromptu sleepovers when his and Yangyang’s friends from CSSA would crash after a party, but like that’s the worst of it. And it’s not even that bad when you think about it, you know? The alternative could have been, like, them passing out on the street or something. You know, at first, I—actually, never mind.”

Donghyuck has to actively hold back a groan. “Jisung. You know the rule, finish the thought.”

“Sorry, wait,” says Jisung, sounding physically far away. The phone picks up on distant clinking of glass before the younger returns, voice cutting in clearly. 

“Okay, as I was saying, at first, I thought Renjun and Yangyang were dating. But then I found out Yangyang was in a relationship with Dejun, obviously. And Renjun was actually into some guy for, like, the whole year I lived with them. Renjun just used to go meet this guy once a month, and he’d come back all smiles, looking lighter in a way. Like an afterglow, you know what I mean? Yangyang actually brought it up the other day while we were helping Renjun pack. Something about seizing his chance and taking a page out of Yangyang’s playbook, whatever that means. But I guess that means Renjun still has his eye on them! I hope things work out for Renjun and I finally get to meet this guy. It's all so cute.”

Cute? 

Maybe it would be cute, Donghyuck has to admit, in another universe where he isn’t in love with Renjun. Though he doubts such a backwards world even exists.

He’s not naive, and he’s definitely not stupid. He knows Renjun has probably had a number of partners, been on many dates—how could he not when he’s perfect?

That doesn’t mean he spends time dwelling on it. He doesn’t really see the point in torturing himself with visuals of his nightmares, thanks. So he tries to kill the engine on that train of thought before he ventures too far and gets lost out there.

In the years Donghyuck’s known Renjun, he’s only heard stories of dates that never really turned into relationships, vague and infrequent enough that they steadily fizzled out and became inconsequential. This is the first time he’s been given enough details to draw a picture. 

Renjun, infatuated, cheeks painted rose pink, soft content smiles, as he slips out to meet this guy. 

His heart twists. His gut churns, even, at the imagery.

Then flashes of Chenle’s words from the other night come in hot and blazing—It’s been years!—He’d be over the moon if he knew you were even slightly interested in him—and Donghyuck is pretty sure a few tectonic plates just slipped beneath his feet.

There’s a big difference between overhearing that Renjun likes someone in indefinite terms and being provided evidence of it with two (three, if Yangyang counts) sources. He’s been given multiple reasons to believe it, but still, it’s hard to wrap his head around. Renjun’s been harboring feelings for this person for over four years? 

Four years… that’s a long time. 

(Four years… when Donghyuck has only known Renjun for three. Any hope, or delusion, he might have had—that maybe, maybe, it could be Donghyuck who’s the lucky one—is extinguished in an instant, while something else flares, red-hot and ugly.)

Donghyuck would have noticed this, he’s sure. There would have been signs, and he would have filed them all in the Renjun cabinet in his brain, overflowing with little tidbits he’s picked up throughout the years. 

Donghyuck flicks through it now, in search of anything that would explain his oversight: there’s the EXO fan account Renjun updates almost religiously; his favorite hotpot ingredients; the reason behind why Avatar’s his favorite movie; how pleased he looks when he finds a new Moomin sticker to add to his collection that he safeguards in a small Moomin pouch; the way he pauses to take pictures of every rainbow he sees, whether it’s between clouds or among graffiti; his unwavering belief in the unknown, a belief that had him adamant about his old apartment being haunted (only to learn a year later that the “ghost” was Jisung bumping into a bookshelf). 

There’s not even a trace of something that indicates Renjun could be interested in some guy, laughably so, which Donghyuck would do if he wasn’t being painfully reminded, once again, of how much he likes Renjun and how hopeless he is.

Donghyuck tries to string words together into a passable sentence for Jisung. “Right yeah, cute,” he manages. 

He doesn’t know what else to say and he knows Jisung eats faster in silence anyway, so he lets the minutes pass until the younger speaks up again. “‘Kay, I’m done! Ready?”

Donghyuck just murmurs his assent before they proceed to lose the next three matches in succession, annihilated in almost every lane.

Jisung eventually drops out of their call around 4 A.M. with a disappointed sigh, mumbling something about a headache and sleeping before his morning lecture, and their night ends on a sad loss.

☀️

Here’s the thing about living with the love of your life. Or more specifically, the love of your life who’s one of your best friends and likes (loves…?) someone else, but that’s a mouthful, so Donghyuck’s going to stick to the short version.

It kind of feels like living with a live wire around every corner. Moments that Donghyuck normally wouldn’t pay much attention to feel peculiarly charged, like when they’re watching an episode of some new kdrama on Netflix, and Donghyuck opts for the armchair where he’d normally go for the loveseat. Or when they brush past each other in the foyer, with Donghyuck leaving just as Renjun arrives home. His heart even feels like it’s pumping differently these days, as if each beat has synced to the crackle in the air.

It’s a little unbearable actually, this one-sided tension. Donghyuck feels like he’s on edge constantly as he tries to give off the air that he’s not affected by it, despite the lengths he’s going to make it seem that way.

He’s always picked up on the little reactions that his (attempt at) flirting elicits from Renjun. The laughter, sighs, eye rolls, headshakes, blank stares. Most of the time, he can’t help it, really; the words come instinctively, frighteningly honest, and Donghyuck is only aware of the truth behind them once he’s seeing Renjun’s reaction.

It’s like testing the waters, time and time again, trying to judge whether the water’s too warm or cold, and it’s never the right temperature to jump in. 

So Donghyuck changes the subject, or deflects, or drives on like he never said anything in the first place, because having Renjun in his life as a friend is better than nothing at all. Even if that means that he has to pretend like being around Renjun isn’t equivalent to having his heart out on his sleeve. 

Selfishly, Donghyuck wants to build a makeshift shield, all cardboard and duct tape and white lies, by pretending a little longer. He’s not ready to face the possibility of rejection—real, absolute, damning—if it means he can no longer have the little moments where it feels like the sun is shining just for him.

He’s a little terrified at the idea of losing that.

If that meant existing in Renjun’s periphery, an orbiting satellite, forever, he’d do it—at least, that’s what he would have said a few months ago. 

Now, however, being so close to Renjun, living with him day in and out, it’s impossible. Donghyuck’s old habits don’t serve him at all, and he’s forced to find a new routine to keep his feelings from bursting, a supernova in the making. 

He’d thought that living with Renjun would be like running toward something finally, but it honestly feels like he’s just running away.

He can't help it though. Every time he remembers Chenle and Jisung’s words, his whole body flushes like he’s caught an intense fever. He feels sick at the thought of seeing Renjun with this other guy—who most definitely isn’t good enough for Renjun.

Donghyuck had briefly wondered, should he figure out who it is? before he realized nope, he really doesn’t want to know. 

But eventually, once Renjun tells this guy how he feels and they get together (which they will… what kind of idiot would reject Renjun?), there will be traces everywhere.

Dinners at Donghyuck’s table, movie nights on their couch. How long and how far can Donghyuck run then?

Renjun notices the change, because of course he does.

He has an artist’s eye, one that’s always searching the world, finding meaning in even the mundane. When he looks at something, he takes a moment to peer at the negative space as well.

It shouldn’t catch Donghyuck as off-guard as it does.

“Hey,” Renjun’s voice floats toward Donghyuck as he’s working his shoes on by the front door.

Donghyuck’s body goes stock-still before he wills his muscles to turn toward Renjun. He takes a moment (just one) to absorb how cute (so cute) Renjun looks, wearing an oversized shirt and pajama pants, likely ready to relax for the evening. 

Donghyuck waits for the other to go on, expectant, but the silence stretches as Renjun studies him. With every moment that passes, his skin prickles a little more. 

He decides to slice the tension first, pushing a wide smile to his face. “Renjunnie! Hey, glad I can catch you before I go. There’s some Tupperware on the second shelf, the pink caps, if you were still trying to figure out dinner.” He’d been planning to tell Renjun via text, en route to the studio, but this works too. “I made enough kimchi fried rice for maybe six people, so feel free to dig in without me, I’ll probably get back late.”

“Another late night?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck nods. Fervent, a little too enthusiastic. He knows it’s too much, but his nerves are still high-strung under Renjun’s scrutiny. “Turns out it’s a bit harder to make songs with your co-writer when he doesn’t live with you anymore. Who would’ve thought?”

Renjun’s head tilts to the side. “I bet. Would you prefer if he still lived here?”

“What?” leaves his mouth, like an impulse, as soon as he processes Renjun’s words. 

“Would you prefer if Mark still lived here?” Renjun repeats, like the problem is that Donghyuck couldn’t hear him the first time. “You seem like you’re never here, and you’ve been acting a little different since I moved in.” Renjun takes a step closer. Baby flames lick at Donghyuck’s ankles. “I wanted to check in… make sure it wasn’t something I did?”

“Of course not,” Donghyuck stresses, bewildered by the turn this conversation’s taken. He’s in a car that’s driven off the road at this point. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Ever, probably.”

The other lets the words hang in the air before he seems to accept them. “Alright, that’s good.” Renjun smiles, trying to bring up the mood as he adds, “Hardly heard any grand confessions of love from you recently, I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well. Should I be worried about you?” He asks airily.

“No, no, I’m okay,” Donghyuck tries to reassure, but it results in Renjun staring at him. Belatedly, Donghyuck realizes his mistake—ten days ago, Donghyuck’s instinct would have been to play along, something along the lines of, “Renjunnie, I’ll never be too sick or tired to say you’re the only one for me.” 

Fuck, he’s slipping. 

“That’s good,” Renjun says again. Mask in place. “Hope recording goes well, Donghyuck, and thanks for dinner. Say hi to Mark for me,” and he’s gone, turning the corner. Seconds tick by as Donghyuck lingers in the silence that remains, until his brain finally alerts him that he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave soon. 

Once outside, he works up a pace that would make any passersby think he was fleeing a building shrouded by plumes of smoke.

☀️

The violent twang of guitar strings reverb with an aggressive touch, startling Donghyuck. 

“Hey, man, are you listening to me?” 

“Of course,” Donghyuck lies immediately. 

Mark blinks at him, unbelieving, which is valid because Donghyuck is still trying to unpack his earlier conversation with Renjun. He thinks his brain might be malfunctioning a little.

“You don’t have to lie to me. I know your thinking face when I see it. You look like you just found out you have a terminal illness.” Donghyuck scans his surroundings for something he can hurl Mark’s way, but sadly, the only thing within his reach is his keyboard. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Mark adds with a grin. 

“Shut up. I was definitely listening to you, but you should repeat it anyway.”

Mark goes quiet, and Donghyuck knows what’s coming next. Call it a gut instinct. “Dude, you okay? You’ve seemed a little distant recently.” Jesus, is everyone on Donghyuck’s case today?

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Donghyuck smiles his best smile. He hopes it says, See? Could I be smiling like this if I wasn’t okay? Unfortunately, Mark still looks skeptical, which has Donghyuck finally deciding to settle with, “It’s nothing.”

“Even if it’s nothing, you know you can always come to me, right?” The other replies, open and earnest in true Mark fashion. Mark Lee and his bleeding heart.

“Sure, Canada,” Donghyuck grants, evading Mark’s obvious attempt at initiating a heart-to-heart. The other rolls his eyes at the old nickname, and this has a laugh bubbling out of Donghyuck, pleased. “I’m fine though, seriously. We have other things to worry about, like finishing the album. Johnny was able to talk the studio into giving us a little more time, so let’s make use of it.” Their manager is heaven sent, truly.

Mark hums in agreement then, accepting Donghyuck’s diversion. “True. Bless Johnny.” He grins, eyes crinkling as he strums his guitar mindlessly. “First studio album incoming… do you ever think about how crazy this is? Like I always thought I’d be behind the scenes, writing and producing, not the one holding the mic in front of an audience. It’s insane how things turned out. In a good way. And it’s so cool that we get to do this together.”

Donghyuck can relate to that, especially whenever he reflects on how everything’s played out. In the beginning, he’d known he’d pursue a career in music, as a singer, songwriter, dancer, any profession where he can channel his restless energy. That’s how he started college, determined, but still a freshman with dreams he didn’t know how to turn into a reality. 

He considers meeting Mark one of the biggest turning points in his life. The first time he and Mark play together, partnered for a class project, Donghyuck recognizes it instantly. It’s like they were tuned to the same frequency from the jump, every atom humming the same melody.

They start playing at open mic nights and local venues while uploading covers on YouTube together, just for fun, and then one of their songs racks up millions of views, either a miracle or blessing or maybe both. They start drawing enough attention that it gets them to pause and consider, hey, maybe this is a dream that’s possible now. 

With Mark, he learns how to work for his dreams, which had always hung so high above his head, as massive and impossible to reach as the celestial body that keeps their planet in orbit. He learns that the only thing standing between dreams and reality is persistence and a tiny bit of luck.

And still, he knows he wouldn’t have made it this far on his own. That’s a truth he’s struck by every so often, like when they first received the news of a label that was interested in signing them, or whenever he sees people online share their love for their music. 

It’s insane, in a good way, as Mark put it.

“Are we having a moment?” Donghyuck croons instead, and before the F in Mark’s MBTI can really take over and pull Donghyuck down with him, he crosses the space between them to trap Mark in a bear hug.

Mark instantly tries to break his hold, yelping, “Hey, the guitar—” and Donghyuck releases him, holding back a grin as he goes. “I know what you mean though. Now show me the chord progression you came up with for Sunkissed one more time, REM.”

Mark adjusts his grip on the fingerboard, lightly biting back, “Start paying closer attention, Haechan.” 

🔥

(1.5. FLASH POINT, min. temp. at which fire ignites after exposure to an external heat source) 

Anyone who knows Donghyuck would confirm, he loves love. 

He searches for love in every book, movie, news article, person he comes across, like a well-formed habit, for no other reason than to bask in its warm glow and let it wash over him. 

Love is something tender, like his mother’s voice during their Saturday morning phone calls. Something he always wants to protect, like his younger siblings’ giddy laughter when he used to hook his arms under their shoulders and spin them round and round like helicopter blades. Something that makes his heart race and trip over itself as it runs off, skipping, like the first time he sees Renjun.

Donghyuck, as much as he loves love, doesn’t really believe in love at first sight until Renjun. It’s a common theme in his favorite movies, sure, but he’s always been the type to only believe in things after he’s been given a reason to. 

The reason comes unexpectedly around the start of his senior year. He’s sitting under the shade of an oak tree, which really isn’t doing all that much to protect him from the wrath of the August sun. The star is currently hanging right above the horizon, golden hour approaching, and his assignments lie forgotten some paces away as his discussion with Mark only grows more and more heated.

They’ve been going at it for days, unable to come to a consensus on how to promote their upcoming performance at a local dive bar, their first show at a venue where they’ll be getting a cut at the end of the night, after years of open mic nights and jam sessions. Donghyuck knows most of their argument is being fueled by their shared nerves and desire for this show in particular to go well, but neither of them wants to stand down.

Jisung and Jeno have long tuned everything out as they complete their work diligently, only occasionally looking up to pass a shareable bag of Hershey kisses back and forth, so no one really spares a glance at Chenle when he throws himself down on the ground beside them. Orange-pink strands splay across blades of grass as he announces, triumphant, “Okay, I have a solution! Mark, Donghyuck, this is Renjun Huang.”

A few beats later, Donghyuck picks up on an excited gasp that sounds an awful lot like Jisung exclaiming, “Renjun!”

It’s still not enough to pry his attention from Mark until Chenle smacks Donghyuck’s arm with, “Shut up for one second.” Meanwhile, Mark receives no such insult or injury.

Donghyuck makes sure to glower at Chenle for the blatant favoritism. Then he schools his expression into something neutral and hopefully friendly, and glances up. 

Renjun Huang is looking at each of his friends in turn. He sends a wave in Jisung and Jeno’s direction, and Donghyuck notes a degree of familiarity between them as his friends wave back. He’s smiling as he meets Donghyuck’s eyes, silhouette bathed in sunshine.

Donghyuck just knows that everyone else is going to have to live in Renjun’s shadow for the rest of his life. It buzzes under his skin, a gut instinct that prods him, a spark that declares, pay attention, pay attention. This person is special. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you guys. Chenle said you were looking for a graphic designer?” 

“I’ve been looking for you my whole life,” Donghyuck replies, words barreling out his mouth.

Renjun inclines his head at that, eyebrows disappearing under his bangs, but his smile doesn’t falter. The corners of Donghyuck’s lips turn up to match it. 

“Hey, man,” Mark says, face already splitting into the campaigning-for-office smile that subconsciously surfaces whenever he’s meeting new people. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name, I’ve heard a lot about you from Chenle and Jisung.”

Renjun’s smile turns a hint shy, and Donghyuck’s heart does a little two-step that he’ll definitely have to discuss with his doctor later. “Good things, I hope,” he says, shrugging his tote off his shoulder and finding his own place on the ground. 

“The best,” Mark assures. “You said graphic designer, right? We still haven’t really decided how we want to go about getting the word out. Honestly, we're trying to figure that out right now.”

“That’s okay,” Renjun says evenly. “I had a few different ideas. I watched some of your performances to get a better feel for your vibe. You’re really good, by the way.” Renjun’s gaze darts toward Donghyuck for a moment, then it’s gone the next second. “We can go over what I put together. No pressure if you don’t like them, of course.”

Mark agrees easily, and Renjun retrieves a tablet from his bag. Donghyuck shuffles a little closer to avoid the glare on the screen.

Fifteen minutes later, Renjun’s swiped through various designs for digital posters, promotional videos, and mock-ups for physical flyers that they can pass around campus.

It’s professional high-quality work, and for the sake of being honest, it’s a lot more than what their still up-and-coming band deserves. Renjun has come up with a whole brand image for them, unprompted. 

Donghyuck sits back on his heels, awed, and going off the excitement written all over Mark’s face, he knows they’ve flipped to the same page now. “Dude, these are amazing!” Mark gushes.

“You think so?” Renjun brightens up.

“Are you kidding? These are incredible. You even made Mark look cool,” Donghyuck breathes (“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Mark complains), and Renjun turns the full force of his smile toward him. 

His whole body lights up in response, from the tips of his fingers to the apples of his cheeks. This is it, this is it, his heart thrums and sings. Pay attention.

“I think we have a new problem,” Mark’s voice dips low, serious. “How do we choose just one of these?”

Renjun just laughs. “You can use them all if you want.”

Mark beams. “Oh, dude, that’d be awesome! How much should we pay you?"

"You can consider it a gift from a fan. Just don’t forget me when you’re famous,” Renjun answers, grinning, and Mark’s mouth drops open indignantly.

“Yeah, no, what’s your Venmo? Your Insta too, so we can plug you,” and the insistent voice gradually fades as Donghyuck drinks in Renjun’s glittering eyes and easy smile, heart soaring into the summer sun.

Scratch that, Donghyuck thinks. He still doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he could definitely be convinced by the theory of falling in love at the first smile, drawn in like gravity.

🔥

2. FUEL

chenle’s jordan year 🏀🎂

Fri, Nov 22, 2024 at 1:27 PM

steph curry’s nephew 🏀

friendly reminder that anyone who isn’t here by 7:30 tonight will be getting aired out on my instagram story @donghyuck lee @renjun huang @jisung park

쥐sung park 🐹

whoa that’s not very friendly of you chenle

steph curry’s nephew 🏀

i can start with you jisung if you want?

쥐sung park 🐹

you said 7:30, right?

samoyed 🐶

have fun guys and have the best jordan year party ever chenle :)

steph curry’s nephew 🏀

jeno leeeeeee

i miss you, wish you were here

the losers you left me alone with never want to do anything fun with me

쥐sung park 🐹

hey just wondering, does that last part include mark and jaemin

steph curry’s nephew 🏀

of course not. hope that helps

love of my life 💍

jeno!!!! how’s boston?

@chenle i’ll be there at 7… be calm

samoyed 🐶

it’s good! same old

come visit some time

i already have google flights pulled up

pick me up from the airport around 7?

steph curry’s nephew 🏀

[Attachment: 1 Image]

first draft of the ig story

PUT THE GUN DOWN CHENLE

쥐sung park 🐹

LMAO he really wasn’t kidding

Fri, Nov 22, 2024 at 5:48 PM

minjae 🐰

Jenoooooo we miss you ☹️☹️❤️❤️

samoyed 🐶

guys I’m only in boston. not dead 😭

aw he misses us too ❤️

business partner only 🚫

Some of us more than others probably 👀 @Andy Park

samoyed 🐶

😐

☀️

Donghyuck is twenty-four and in a band. 

(Allegedly. Does their two-man contemporary R&B and hip-hop band count as a band band?) 

Two factors that might make him seem susceptible to going out to wild parties on a regular basis, but he hasn’t been to a club this crazy in a while. 

There are a number of faces here that Donghyuck recognizes, though he hasn’t seen most of them in years.

Chenle, having freshly graduated five months ago, is still in close touch with a lot of their friends from Northwestern, and he seems to have invited everyone he’s ever met.

Donghyuck spots some of his friends from CSSA (he counts Yizhuo, Junhui, Minghao, and Kun before he stops keeping track—Chenle’s apparently friends with everyone who’s ever been a member of the organization, current or alumnus), the gym squad that he calls whenever he wants to play basketball (Shotaro, Sungchan, Harvey, and Seungkwan, long-time friends of Donghyuck’s as well), and some other friends Chenle’s made through his major and at work that Donghyuck isn’t familiar with.

The birthday boy’s been high energy all night, sporting a grin that hasn’t left his face once as he flits between all his friends and facilitates introductions. The last Donghyuck saw of him, he was downing shots at the bar with Mark and Felix, shades resting on the crown of his head in tribute to that one song with Miley Cyrus, while donning a Bulls jersey with Zhong 23 emblazoned on the back.

He’s also been carrying his signature Warriors cup around, which he’d insisted on bringing because “it wouldn’t feel right without Curry here too.” Donghyuck doesn’t even want to think about the kind of party Chenle’s going to throw when he turns 30.

Donghyuck is drunk. He thinks. He’s starting to think he may have taken one too many shots while making his initial rounds, pulled into it with every friend he came across.

He’ll likely regret this tomorrow when he’s left with a headache and a litany of red statements in his bank account, but right now, his face feels warm and his chest feels light and yeah, he’s drunk.

Jisung’s next to him, angled away from Donghyuck as he chats with Jeno on his other side. Young love, Donghyuck thinks hazily.

Contrary to what they’d worked hard to make Chenle believe, Jeno had shown up at their doorstep earlier that night, clock reading 7:34, straight from O’Hare with a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Sorry I’m late, please don’t expose me on Instagram,” he’d said as Chenle bulldozed into his arms, after no small amount of commotion from learning that everyone else was in on the surprise. That was around the time the permanent smile on Chenle’s face set in.

Jeno’s here now, with a tell-tale flush that says he’s also not completely sober, and it’s nice having them all together again. Most of their core friend group had found work or pursued higher education near Chicago, but Jeno’s job search had taken him to the east coast.

Thinking about it now, Donghyuck is tempted to shake his fist at the sky and curse capitalism, even though he knows that life will take you down winding paths to places you’re meant to go. 

Jeno will leave on Sunday, but for now, at least, his best friends are all here. Donghyuck's whole body feels like it’s glowing, and he feels so lucky to be alive. 

“Whoa, are you good?” Jisung asks, eyes swimming with worry when Donghyuck suddenly sits up straight, bumping shoulders with him. 

“Never been better, Jisung.” Donghyuck beams. “Jisung, our cutie. Grew up so well. How did I raise such a polite, sweet, handsome boy, hm?” He slings an arm around Jisung, pulling the other close to nuzzle his neck.

Jisung’s arms flail outward, and he tries to keep them both upright by holding onto the table as Jeno openly laughs at the way Jisung’s face contorts.

“I met you when I was 18,” Jisung grumbles. “And if anyone was going to steal the credit from my actual mom, I’d give it to Jaemin-hyung, but don’t tell him that. How are you wasted already?”

If Donghyuck was listening, he would have cried out, Jaemin?! Did I not give you enough of my love, Jisung? 

But he’s not paying attention. Jisung’s words fall on unlistening ears as his eyes fall on the dance floor, a blur of shadows and neon. It’s packed, probably because the DJ tonight has been playing 2000s classics all night. Donghyuck has a suspicion the DJ might also be taking requests, judging by the way he’s heard “Beauty And A Beat” multiple times. Couldn’t be the work of anyone other than Mark. 

(Renjun should be around here somewhere. Maybe he’s found—

Stop, don’t think about that.)

“Dance with me,” he demands, head swiveling toward his friends so abruptly that Jisung startles a few inches into the air, clutching at his heart like he’s been shot.

“I’m happy right here,” Jeno turns him down with a nod and inclines his glass toward Donghyuck, which is very Jay Gatsby (Jeno Gatsby, Donghyuck thinks absently) of him.  

Donghyuck switches tactics and turns to Jisung with a pout. He’ll be an easier target, purely because he won’t want Donghyuck to go alone. “Let’s dance, Jisung! What’s the point of us former Graffiti members,” he pauses to glare at Jeno after mentioning their old university dance team; the other tries to hide his smile behind his drink, “reuniting here if we don’t even dance?” 

Jisung already looks resigned to his fate. “One song,” he states firmly, holding up one finger to emphasize his constraint. 

He tries to restrain his grin. Jisung’s seriously so cute. 

“Deal!” 

If the air near their table was thick and humid, it’s downright smothering out on the floor. He keeps a tight hold of Jisung’s hand as he drags him straight into the mass of bodies, despite Jisung’s best efforts to tug him toward the outskirts.

He gets the younger to stick around for three songs, successfully using the excuse this is my song! we can’t go yet! whenever Jisung tries to persuade him to leave. Right as the chorus of “Uptown Funk” hits, which really is Donghyuck’s song, there’s a tap on his shoulder, a voice yelling his name. 

“Donghyuck!” Standing before him is a face that’s vaguely familiar. It takes a second for his vision to unblur, and when it does, his lips split into a wide, shocked smile.

“Sunwoo, hey!” He leans in for a side hug, the drink in his friend’s hand sloshing to the side. “What are you doing in town?”

“Friend’s bachelor party!” Sunwoo yells, coming closer to yell the words directly into Donghyuck’s ear after a few failed attempts at getting the message across. “Eric’s here too! Come say hi!”

Donghyuck nods and opens his mouth to reply, but then he takes note of Jisung’s inquisitive gaze.

He springs away from Sunwoo to pull Jisung in, “Gonna catch up with some friends!” Jisung glances between Donghyuck and Sunwoo, a touch hesitant, so Donghyuck tacks on, “Go check on Jeno, he’s probably going crazy over how much he misses you,” and grins wildly at the look Jisung directs at him.

“Alright, you’re clearly still in your right mind. I’ll see you later.” Jisung gives him a two-fingered salute and offers Sunwoo a polite smile, and then he’s squeezing through a narrow open space, swallowed by the crowd and out of sight in an instant.

Donghyuck pivots to face Sunwoo, who’s already pointing over his shoulder, eyebrows arched in a silent question, which Donghyuck answers with a thumbs up. 

When they emerge from this side of the dance floor, he catches sight of Jaemin first, eye drawn to the bright yellow shirt he’d decided on tonight (matching with Mark, who’d worn the same one but in GSW royal blue—another silly detail that made Chenle laugh). 

Jaemin’s leaning against the bartop, head turned so Donghyuck mostly sees the slope of his nose from this angle, but he can also make out the broad smile pulling at Jaemin’s lips as he nods his head to whatever the person beside him is saying.

This is the first he’s seen of the other since they initially arrived at the nightclub, with the seven of them being pried apart in different directions after their first round of drinks. 

He instinctively searches for the person that went off with Jaemin, who’d been ushered along by Yangyang and Dejun and Kunhang, who flushed pink after Donghyuck overheard Yangyang holler “Yo, tell him tonight! You look hot, no way he’ll turn you down,” who—

—is staring back at him.

It registers with a jolt once he finds Renjun.

Heat creeps up his neck, as if every fiber of his being isn’t already on fire from the alcohol in his system and sheer amount of body heat emanating from the people around him—and fuck, Donghyuck’s probably imagining this, caught up in his head again—but Renjun’s eyes are intense. Donghyuck feels like he’s been doused in gasoline and set alight. 

A hand comes down on his shoulder, the touch knocking him back to Earth. Donghyuck finally breaks his eyes away from Renjun as Sunwoo says, “We’re over there,” gesturing toward a table with more people than Donghyuck can count right now. Donghyuck trails after his friend as his heart continues to go haywire, taking residence in his throat. 

Eric lets out a shout of surprise when he sees Donghyuck, scrambling over his friends to tackle him in a hug that knocks a breathy laugh out of him. Like Sunwoo had said, one of his friends—Jacob, if Donghyuck remembers correctly—is getting married soon, and they’re out for his bachelor party tonight.

After introductions and a few minutes of easy conversation, Eric pulls everyone over to the bar, which leads to multiple rounds of shots: one for the coincidence of Donghyuck running into them tonight, one as a toast to Jacob, and one to toast Jacob’s to-be who isn’t even here. 

Donghyuck throws them back, ignoring the sting in the back of his throat, while hoping each time that this is the one that’ll clear his mind. 

☀️

Jisung had been wrong earlier. Donghyuck wasn’t wasted before, but he definitely is now.

He sways a little, brushing against the person next to him, who tries to steady him with an arm around the shoulders. “Hey, I’m going to get you some water,” he hears Sunwoo say, and Donghyuck nods, blinking rapidly to bring his eyes into focus. 

When Sunwoo hands him a glass however many minutes later, Donghyuck sips from it until his head finally feels a little less fuzzy. “I should head back,” he says, though it probably comes out a bit differently, judging by the way Sunwoo stares at him.

“Did you want to go find that friend you were with earlier?” He questions, and oh, finding Jisung sounds like a great idea. “Okay, I’ll come with you,” and aw, Donghyuck’s a little touched.

Donghyuck bids them a farewell after Sunwoo explains that they’ll be stepping out for a bit, throwing out “Keep in touch!” toward Eric and “Congrats again!” at Jacob. 

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung, his mind chants as he navigates the floor, doing his best to avoid running into stray elbows and ankles.

He takes infrequent sips of water until his feet finally still. This is the same place he’d been sitting with Jisung and Jeno earlier, he could have sworn it. 

Then, in an instant, his mind transforms into a chorus of Renjun, Renjun, Renjun. 

Eyebrows drawn together, eyes replaced by slits, lips turned down, jaw clenched. Renjun? 

“He’s obviously drunk,” Renjun’s saying. 

Sunwoo glances at him. “Yeah, I’m trying to help him find his friends.” 

“Right,” Renjun replies, jaw still tense. “Well, you found one of them.”

“Who are you?” Sunwoo inquires then, giving Renjun a once-over, and Renjun’s eyes flash. He hardly gets out, “I’m his roommate, Renjun—” before Sunwoo interrupts with, “Oh, you’re Renjun?”

Sunwoo’s smiling now, a complete one-eighty from his previous demeanor. Renjun’s eyes flicker to Donghyuck, which has him brightening up under the attention. “Alright, well, enjoy the rest of your night, guys. See you around, Donghyuck!” 

Donghyuck barely manages to utter a see ya before Renjun has a hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking his arm out of its socket. Renjun’s palm is hot against his skin, more so than his surroundings, somehow more than his own body’s feverish temperature.

He surrenders to the weight of his eyelids, lost in the pull of being dragged along, and when he opens his eyes again, Renjun’s glaring at him, irises glittering in the light. Even with anger twisted into every curve of his face, he’s still the most gorgeous person Donghyuck’s ever seen. 

He takes the glass in Donghyuck’s hands and exchanges it with the bartender for another, filled to the brim.

“Drink,” Renjun orders sharply. 

When Donghyuck doesn’t move, eyes busy roving over the other’s face—is Renjun really standing there?—Renjun brings it up to his lips and coaxes Donghyuck’s mouth to part, placing the rim of the glass between his lips.

Tilting his head back allows the liquid to rush down his throat, a remedy that soothes the aching tissue as it goes. Donghyuck can feel a few droplets escape their intended path, ice cold as they trickle down his jaw and the side of his neck, but he pays it no mind, eyes fixed on Renjun like the other might disappear if he blinks. Delicate fingers come to rest on his cheek, the soft pad of a thumb brushing the edge of Donghyuck’s lower lip, and Donghyuck melts like liquid gold.

“Why’d you drink so much?” Renjun murmurs, almost to himself, like he knows Donghyuck won’t give him a proper response. “What am I going to do with you?”

He draws the glass back, places it on the counter, and tugs at Donghyuck’s hand again, fingers threading together this time. They end up far-removed from the crowd after finding a tiny nook, music fading until the blood rushing to Donghyuck’s ears grows louder than anything else, thundering, clamorous.

“Renjunnie,” he breathes out.

Renjun sighs, ire dimming as he exhales. “Donghyuck.”

“Hi,” Donghyuck says languidly, tongue loose. “I missed you. So much.”

The lights flicker in a series of red-pink flashes, managing to reach their secluded corner. The casted glow on Renjun’s face allows Donghyuck to see the other’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and Donghyuck feels satisfaction well in his chest at managing to catch the other unguarded. 

“I’m a little mad at you,” Renjun admits. “But being mad right now feels like kicking a puppy.”

“You can be mad at me all you want,” comes Donghyuck’s response, instant, the words slurring. 

Renjun draws and releases another breath, gentle. “You’re so…” Eyelids fluttering shut. 

Donghyuck still isn’t sure if this is real. His vision is spotty, nothing but shadows in his peripherals, and Renjun looks like a dream, glowing, radiant even in the dull light, and Donghyuck can’t believe Renjun is here.

His heart thumps. He likes Renjun so much.

“Are you happy?” Donghyuck prompts without warning, and again, Renjun looks caught by surprise.

“Am I happy?” Renjun parrots. The ends of his lips curve down a bit, and oh no, did Donghyuck say something wrong? “I’m happy,” he affirms. “Why do you ask?”

“That’s good,” comments Donghyuck, nodding to himself, the question going past his buzzing ears as soon as he hears Renjun’s confirmation. “Always be happy, Renjun. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” In whatever form that comes, wherever it takes him, and whoever that’s with. 

Donghyuck will be content to stay by his side as a friend, for however long Renjun wants him around. He just… he thinks he needs a little time. 

Renjun taps a finger against Donghyuck’s temple, like he knows Donghyuck’s floating away.

“Hey, focus on me for a minute.” As if Donghyuck can do anything else. “Have you been… why have you been avoiding me recently?” 

The answer comes easily, honest as ever. “I want you to be happy.” At the risk of Donghyuck’s heart being reduced to ashes. 

It’s an outcome he keeps trying to brace himself for, one that he knows will occur as soon as the volcano on the horizon erupts, magma rising to the surface through fissures he hasn’t sewn together yet.

“Looks like I’m not getting any answers out of you tonight,” Renjun muses.

Donghyuck wants to protest, this was his answer, but the other squeezes his hand once, where they’re still connected, and adds, “I’m happy, Donghyuck, though I’m happier when you’re around.” His eyes catch stars. Donghyuck’s heart jackhammers away, a sudden air of sobriety reaching him. “I miss you too, you know.”

And God, Donghyuck wishes he was running on purpose. But it’s an instinct, one that he follows naturally, built on a sense of self-preservation that’s been refined over centuries. It’s been passed down from his ancestors who have guided him to this very moment, standing in front of the person he loves.

“You’re not going to remember much of this, are you?” Renjun’s eyes glint. “That’s okay. I’ll tell you again.”

☀️

“So how was everyone’s night?” Mark asks, peering over a menu that’s obscuring the rest of his face. “I feel like I only saw Chenle last night.” 

Donghyuck would comment on this normally, but there’s an ache that’s still present behind his eyes, searing to the back of his skull. So he holds a thumb up for Mark wordlessly.

A tiny part of him wishes he’d tried harder to get out of Chenle’s “after party and JENO’S HERE party,” which really just consisted of the seven of them going out for K-BBQ, a lunch so late some might consider it an early dinner. It’s the part of him that’s still reeling from yesterday’s decisions.

He’d woken with his mind a blank slate. Then the night had returned to him in flashes—getting a little too intoxicated—warm fingers laced between his—a comfortable shoulder in the Uber home—another set of hands helping remove his shoes—feet tripping into bed—the soft lilt of laughter. 

That’s about all he remembers, but Donghyuck’s ears burn thinking about it even now.

At least he didn’t spill his guts, literally and figuratively. He hopes. 

After waking up, he’d looked around his crumpled sheets in search of his phone, intent on pulling up Sunwoo’s contact to shoot off a quick sorry about last night, and then he’d spotted it atop his dresser, a white cable plugged into its charging slot, along with a glass of water and bottle of Advil. Which is—such a Renjun thing to do—something he would do for anyone without even thinking about it—that Donghyuck couldn’t help but think, this is so unfair. How can Renjun be Renjun and expect Donghyuck to not be in love with him? This is the only outcome, really.

Renjun’s in the seat beside him now, a fact that Donghyuck is hyper aware of as he tries to pay attention to Jeno’s account of tipsy Jisung last night. The younger had apparently refused to enter his building once they’d made it home, phone angled toward the moon until he finally got the “perfect picture” forty-five minutes later. 

“It was worth it!” Jisung cuts in, dead serious like he’s on trial, and draws his phone out to show everyone the picture. His face falls once he finds it, which has Donghyuck chuckling before he leans closer to peer at it himself. It kind of looks like a blurry egg yolk far off in the distance.

The conversation slowly drifts to life updates, a natural progression as it’s nearly been a full year since the seven of them last got together, just for a brief period around the previous Christmas. Between portions of meat that Chenle and Donghyuck take turns grilling, Jeno fills them in on Boston and tidbits of the recent project his firm completed, the remodeling of a garage into a shared restaurant space. Jaemin briefly mentions his upcoming rotation, an internal medicine clerkship that begins next week, and his availability (or, unavailability, to be more accurate) over the next few weeks. Donghyuck winces just hearing about it.

Chenle goes into how his grad school applications are turning out, which has Jisung chiming in afterwards about how his Master’s is already eating him alive. “What’s worse, the classes or doing long distance?” Chenle prods, eyes flitting over to Jeno, who huffs a laugh. 

Mark and Donghyuck announce that their album has finally reached the last stages, set to be released early next year, and they’re quick to assure, of course we’ll send it to you guys first, before someone can come over and kick them out for being a public disturbance.

Renjun talks about the ad campaign he’s designing for his agency’s newest client, an international clothing brand, but he’s quiet, subdued, for the most part, and Donghyuck is hyper aware of this as well. There’s something on the other’s mind, something that he’s going to spring on Donghyuck when he gets the chance, the moment Donghyuck gives him an opening. 

He could sense it from the moment he’d left his room, a whopping thirty minutes before the time Chenle had asked them to meet at the restaurant, and encountered Renjun in their living room with a tentative smile, though his eyes were piercing, jaw set in determination.

“Hey, I think we should talk.” Never words one wants to hear, especially not without further elaboration. It sounds like, I think we should Talk, capital T. 

“Okay, later, Renjunnie,” Donghyuck had said, already stuffing his foot into a shoe. When Donghyuck glanced over at him again, Renjun’s smile had slipped a bit, which had a pang of guilt shooting through him. “We gotta catch the next bus.”

Renjun had followed him out the door with a resolute, “Alright, later,” and Donghyuck knows there’s no avoiding it. Though at this point, he’s grown tired of running anyway. 

This is what lingers in the back of his mind throughout their meal, as he throws out a rock to Jeno’s scissors and the latter begrudgingly puts his card down, as the seven of them push past the front door and an icy gust of wind rushes to greet him, as they fall into a discussion about their next destination.

“Let’s go to Christkindlmarket,” Jeno suggests. “They’re open now, right?”

Chenle immediately vetoes the notion. “No way, it’s opening weekend.”

“We also haven’t gotten past Thanksgiving yet,” Jaemin adds, wrinkling his nose. “Celebrating Christmas before Thanksgiving is against, like, holiday law.”

“I think it’s okay to start celebrating Christmas after Halloween,” Mark inserts, which has Jaemin’s head whipping toward him with an aghast, “Mark!”

They grow divided as Jaemin and Chenle insist on their point, forcing Jeno and Mark to go on the defensive. Chenle prompts Renjun for his opinion, who agrees that Christmas celebrations should start after Thanksgiving, which has Jeno and Mark turning to Donghyuck and Jisung. And Jisung, who’s been trying to break up the debate from the start, releases a long-suffering sigh.

“You’re all wrong, Christmas starts in July,” Donghyuck states matter-of-factly.

Chenle bites the bait, ever-competitive, but the argument dissolves in an instant as everyone else groans.

“Take notes, Jisung, that’s how you get these people to stop fighting,” he calls out. 

Jisung counters, “By giving them a common enemy?” 

“Exactly.” Donghyuck nods, hiding his smile. “Look at that, you’re catching on quick,” and Jisung just makes a face at him.

☀️

They don’t really come to a decision on where they should head next.

Instead, they end up wandering through Chinatown, slipping into any shops that catch their eye. There’s a beauty store that Jaemin pulls them into with an airy explanation about needing to restock his depleted sunscreen and lip balm supply, which is something Donghyuck didn’t know could run out. Donghyuck spends most of his time there looking at face masks with Jeno and photobombing Jisung’s mirror selfies. 

They come across a bakery soon after, which Jisung insists they step into, suddenly craving egg tarts. He drags the two people who are closest to him, a guiding hand against Renjun and Jeno’s backs. The rest of them peer in, take note of the rush, and decide to wait outside, but as Chenle sidles up next to Donghyuck, he has a feeling he should have trailed after Jisung.

“Hey,” Chenle starts, innocent enough. He curls an arm around Donghyuck’s bicep, head coming to rest on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

“Hm?” Donghyuck side-eyes him, wary already. “I’m good. A bit hungover, a little cold, but good.” He shivers in place, having picked out the wrong coat for the day, once again fooled by the weather app. Why does Donghyuck continue to trust it?

Chenle frowns as he snuggles closer. “That’s not what I meant. It’s super obvious when you’re out of it, just so you know. You’re always lightening the mood, cheering the rest of us up, but you only do it when you’re in a good mood. And you’ve been weird since yesterday, so what’s up?” 

The thing about Chenle is, he always calls a spade a spade. 

“I noticed that too,” Jaemin comments as he tunes into their conversation, and Mark nods in agreement.

And maybe it’s because Donghyuck is still hungover. Maybe he’s feeling sentimental that the seven of them are together again. Maybe he’s really fucking tired and lost his mind.

But he opens his mouth and pieces of the truth come out, which is a little pathetic, actually. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to my usual self after I get over my feelings for Renjun.” (If that’s possible, a tiny voice reminds him in the back of his head. Thank you, tiny Donghyuck.)

“Renjun?” Chenle asks, head drawing back, sounding like this is the last thing he expected to hear. “Wait, what? Why would you get over Renjun?”

“Wait, you like Renjun?” Mark asks, eyes round, and Chenle and Jaemin both send him a Look, capital L.

“You’re probably the last person to figure that out,” Chenle murmurs, which Donghyuck only catches because Chenle’s head is back on his shoulder. “Other than Renjun. And maybe Jisung, I don’t have a lot of faith in him.”

“Listen, I thought the flirting was a bit,” Mark tries to defend himself, palms up. “A bit you were super committed to.”

“It became a little obvious he was being serious after the first few months,” Jaemin drawls. “It’s okay that you’re a little slow, baby, we still love you.” What was Donghyuck thinking when he stayed back with these three? God. 

“Why would you get over Renjun?” Chenle demands again, tugging at Donghyuck’s elbow. “Is that why Renjun’s been off today? What did you do?”

Donghyuck tries to pry his arm out of the other’s grip. “I don’t know. And I’m trying to get over it because I know he likes someone else, okay? I’m trying to spare myself the heartbreak. God, you’ve gotten really fucking strong, have you been working out with Jaemin?”

“He has. We’ve been working out lots,” Jaemin purrs, tone saccharine, grinning with all his teeth. And Donghyuck’s ready to run into that bakery, even if Chenle’s still attached to his arm, even if it were to suddenly burst into flames, all that be damned. 

Chenle echoes, “Likes someone else?” 

“Yeah?” Donghyuck says, perplexed by Chenle’s confusion. “I didn’t mean to overhear you and Renjun, but I caught pieces of your conversation the night he moved in… I know he likes someone else. And Jisung told me enough to figure out it’s some guy that Renjun’s been into for, like, four years.”

“Oh, my God,” Chenle says finally, some sense of comprehension reaching him. “You and Renjun are both idiots. Jisung’s probably an idiot. Mark’s cute but also an idiot. Jeno? The only person I trust.”

“What about me?” Jaemin nestles up against Chenle’s other side. 

“You’re my favorite,” Chenle assures, but his brow’s furrowed like he’s already thinking about something else. “Wow. You really can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“What are you even saying?” Donghyuck is starting to get lost, and it looks like Mark and Jaemin aren’t following Chenle either. 

“Alright, pay attention. I’m going to describe the person Renjun likes,” Chenle declares, determined, and before Donghyuck can tell him that's really not necessary, he’s saying, “He’s the same age as Renjun. He went to our college. He’s the eldest child in his family. He's an incredible singer. He plays the piano. He gives the best hugs. He stays up late all the time because he’s gaming.”

“That’s cool and all, but—”

“He makes Renjun his comfort foods on tough days,” Chenle raises his voice, spews the words faster. “He showed up to Renjun’s senior show with a bouquet and wouldn’t stop praising his artwork the entire time. He never stands for it if he hears someone say something negative about Renjun, even if it comes from Renjun himself. He doesn’t really understand things like why someone would randomly send him a picture of the moon, but he makes an effort to understand because Renjun’s the one sending it to him.”

A beat of silence, then Mark whistles. “Damn,” he drags the word out. “I get it.”

Donghyuck just blinks at the amount of information Chenle’s thrown at him. “Okay?” He frowns, heart sinking a little. This guy copied Donghyuck’s whole flow… why can’t Renjun be into Donghyuck? “You really don’t have to rub it in my face. How do you know all this anyway?”

Chenle stares back at him, distraught. “I give up. This has to be some form of karmic retribution because I got too invested in this. Should I tell you who it is?” He wonders, and a hand wraps around Chenle from behind, fingers pressing into his lips. 

“That’s enough, Chenle.” Jaemin’s eyes land on Donghyuck, and his gaze softens as he says, “You should talk to Renjun.”

And Jisung comes bounding out the door, buzzing as he offers everyone an egg tart, claiming, these are the best egg tarts ever, try them. Donghyuck sighs to himself as he absentmindedly accepts one and agrees, this is a pretty spectacular egg tart. 

But right, talk to Renjun. That’s what the universe seems to keep trying to tell him.

🔥

(2.5. FIRE POINT, min. temp. at which fire steadily continues to burn after ignition)

Renjun is tired these days.

It’s a fatigue he knows intimately. He’s nineteen, turning twenty in a few weeks, and this weariness is an old friend that’s been around for years. 

There are days where the exhaustion ebbs. Days where he can find his footing, move past it, work through it. But there are other days where it looms over him, deep-set, as he walks forward with waterlogged bones until they grow too heavy to take another step. 

The clock just ticks on vengefully, the calendar flipping from 1 to 31 as hours and days slip from him. It’s like being in the eye of a cyclone, encircled by towering thunderstorms and vicious winds, as the rest of the world continues to swirl around him. There’s no escape without first getting caught in the vortex, running straight through the rain, and some days, Renjun is too tired to face the downpour.

But the longer he stays there, drenched, a calm calamity, the more he feels like he’s facing a sudden death. 

The first to slip away is always his art, a sign that he’s grown to recognize. Scratched out drawings and unfinished sketches until he can hardly bring himself to touch his sketchbook, frustration and shame burning in his chest. 

Why are his fingers hesitating on the page? Why can’t he make anything that’s worth something? Maybe he no longer has anything to say.

The world starts to dim, a faint trace of its former light. He feels disappointed and stagnant, like he isn’t making any meaningful progress, letting himself down in the process. It’s like losing his voice, sense of self, and spirit all at once. It’s cold, lonely, ugly, and something Renjun intentionally and vigorously tries to avoid once he notices that the days are starting to slip and his art is fizzling out. 

Still, there are days where the fatigue wears him down. Right now, he’s more tired than he has ever been.

Jaemin tells him that he should be kinder to himself, a mantra that Renjun has tried to internalize. It’s what he summons to forgive himself on days he feels like he’s flickering out, whether he’s functioning at 90% or 5%. It’s what has him eventually giving in when Yangyang drags him out to a local bar, because he knows this is a kindness too, one that he should allow himself.

Putting the pieces back together is always ten times harder and takes ten times longer than falling apart, but it’s a little easier when you have people standing by your side, a hand outstretched with one of the lost pieces in their grasp.

Renjun cherishes his friends dearly. Even on days where he feels like he isn’t himself, even on days where he thinks he might have forgotten what love feels like. 

Even on days where one of his friends forces Renjun out of his apartment and ushers him into Bloom, on one of the coldest days of the month, to attend the bar’s signature open mic night.

Renjun leans back in his seat as Yangyang glances around furtively. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his almost-soon-to-be-boyfriend who’ll be performing here in a bit, Renjun’s sure.

“So this is where you disappear off to every month,” Renjun comments, assessing his surroundings. They’ve managed to snag a table near the corner of the room, one of the few open tables still remaining, and people are continuing to file in despite the dwindling space. “This place is packed. Dejun won’t even be able to see you from back here.”

“It’s alright, I’ll see him at the end,” his friend replies with a grin. “Tonight’s the night, Renjun. I’ll be a taken man tomorrow.” Easy confidence melts into something tender. “Thanks for coming with me. My life support. My day one. My other half. My soulmate.”

Renjun snorts. “You know, Dejun might get the wrong idea if he hears you.”

“Sorry, you missed your chance with me.” Yangyang’s eyes shine with mirth. “Maybe in our next life.” 

Renjun laughs under his breath as Yangyang continues, “Hey, do you want anything to eat or drink? On me.”

They end up ordering a shareable basket of fries and two mocktails, and their drinks arrive just as an older gentleman taps the mic on the platform up front, stage lights growing a degree brighter. The bar falls to a low chatter as most eyes in the room turn to him, and after a short introduction, the first performer of the night goes on. 

Renjun can feel his muscles loosen as the evening progresses. He sways in his seat to an airy ballad (“That’s a Doyoung original,” Yangyang tells him.) He laughs along with the crowd to some of the one-liners in a “Call Me Maybe” parody (“Jungwoo did ‘Despacito’ last month,” Yangyang murmurs.) His breath catches to a raw mostly-acapella performance with piano chords scattered throughout for emphasis (“And that’s a Jaehyun original. The first time he performed it, he said he wrote it for Doyoung, they’re dating.” Yangyang leans over to whisper. Renjun eyes him and asks, “How many times have you been here exactly?”)

Yangyang’s on his feet, hands going pink with the force of his applause, as soon as Dejun finishes his rendition of “Love Yourself,” bowing off the stage with his guitar. “That man is my girl,” Yangyang says seriously as he settles back into his seat, which has Renjun’s head tipping back with laughter.

A duo takes the stage following Dejun, one with a guitar strapped around his torso and the other heading toward the piano bench. Renjun’s distracted during their introduction as their waitress returns with their fries right then. He turns to thank her quietly, and Yangyang nudges the basket toward him, muttering, “I’m on a diet.” 

Renjun stares at him incredulously, thinking of their dinner the previous night, with Yangyang inhaling a pizza and a half. He’s opening his mouth to retort when a breathy voice fills the room, and his words go unsaid as his eyes snap to the stage. 

The siren at the front of the room has his eyes closed as he sings the opening lines, whole form glowing under the lights. His voice doesn’t just fill the room, but it seems to swell from corner to corner, wall to wall, a bright and rich timbre that expands the space. It’s sweet and golden, like shimmering honey. 

Renjun just knows this voice will stay with him forever. It’s unlike anything he’s ever heard, a vocal color so unique and warm that Renjun follows the boy’s lead and closes his eyes as it washes over him. He sings, and Renjun feels it in his bones. Full yet feather light. 

The other boy on stage joins in for the second verse, and their performance is over all too soon. Renjun reopens his eyes in time to catch the pair ducking off stage, matching smiles on their faces as the enthusiastic applause fades out. “Who was that?” Renjun prompts Yangyang for the first time, gaze still following the boy with the honey gold voice.

“Who, Mark and Donghyuck?” Yangyang inquires, half of a limp fry hanging between his thumb and index finger. At Renjun’s nod, he goes on, “They’re good, aren’t they? They’ve been performing here way before I started coming to support Dejun. Crowd favorites. They go to Northwestern too actually.”

Renjun just allows that to sink in, nodding silently. He knows that any further questions will have Yangyang turning on him, probing into Renjun’s sudden interest, so he lets his curiosity rest on his tongue.

He finds the answers later though, returning to Bloom on his own when the first Friday of the next month rolls around, a sketchbook nestled in his bag. He learns that the boy on the piano is Donghyuck, or Haechan as he introduces himself.

(Renjun searches up the meaning of “Haechan” and smiles to himself. It fits the other well.)

Dejun only performs occasionally, which means Renjun attends four open mic nights before he has Yangyang as company again. He quickly learns that he may as well have just gone ahead and asked Yangyang all his questions that first night in February.

“Real recognizes real, and you look like me before I made a move on Dejun,” Yangyang states. “What are you waiting for? Tell him you’re interested.”

“It’s not like that,” Renjun murmurs.

(Except, if Renjun’s honest, he thinks maybe it is like that. His eyes work fine, and Donghyuck is hot.

But at the same time, it’s more than that.)

Renjun’s always looking for sparks. Art, his friends, his parents, his cousins, Christmas, hotpot, music, star-studded skies. The way pieces of the world fit together, like moonlight dancing on Lake Michigan as a current ripples through, or a red ladybug resting on a pink holed leaf. He’s learned that it’s important to seek out the little things that light a fire, things that inspire courage and confidence and gratitude. It’s how he keeps the exhaustion from overwhelming him—a way to clear his thoughts and continue staying upright.

Donghyuck makes him spark. His voice is infused with love as he sings, the melodies warm and lifting. 

The summer passes like most summers do, and Renjun wanders back into Bloom at the start of his junior year. Yangyang leaves him be, for the most part, only bringing it up on special occasions. He runs into Chenle at the bar one night, and the freshman seems to figure him out in an instant, despite it being their third encounter ever.

The following year, Chenle asks if he’d want to help Mark and Donghyuck with promoting an upcoming show, and Renjun knows it’s time to face the sun. (That, and the fact that one does not say no to Chenle Zhong.)

Donghyuck is larger than life, the center of every room he steps into and every space he occupies. He’s witty and bright, tongue razor sharp yet never cutting. He brings people together like it’s second nature and works with purpose when it comes to achieving his goals. He’s thoughtful and supportive and someone Renjun knows he can always rely on.

(And then he comes to Renjun's senior art show, flowers in hand—which is an unexpected gesture, but simultaneously unsurprising when it comes to Donghyuck Lee—and he says, sincere, "Everything you create amazes me." Renjun finally takes a second to accept, oh, so this is love, but he thinks that's something he might have already known.)

Donghyuck effortlessly turns Renjun’s lead bones into something he can carry around a little easier. Even when the thunderstorms approach, with Renjun finding himself in the eye yet again, the torrents seem less brutal, less difficult to run through and emerge on the other side. 

He's also the biggest flirt Renjun knows—which is a high bar to clear, with Jaemin and Yangyang being Renjun's best friends. And Renjun realizes Donghyuck doesn’t mean all the flirting pretty early on—that it’s just a form of banter, another way for them to push and pull. He grows used to it, even as his feelings burn hotter each year, even if they’re unreciprocated, because Donghyuck’s still there, standing beside him.

He’s stumbled upon love that lights a fire, and the warmth in his chest is as steady as ever. 

🔥

3. OXYGEN

The Talk descends on Donghyuck the moment he steps into their apartment, standing in the entryway, without even a second to spare to remove his coat.

At least this is something he’d been prepared for.  

He’d almost been tempted to ask Jeno if he wanted to spend the night at their apartment instead of going over to Jisung’s place, their friend serving as a buffer. It’s a little selfish of him, but Donghyuck has never claimed to be unselfish. 

It’s also a little cowardly, but again, Donghyuck has never claimed to be not a coward. 

Renjun’s always been brave though. Always willing to make an effort, work through things, reconcile differences, and have the hard conversations that others might find uncomfortable. 

You have to be a little brave to be an artist, his mind conjures up the thought, perhaps as one last attempt to distract him from things he can no longer run from. And Renjun’s an artist to the bone. 

“Alright, be honest with me,” the other begins. “What’s been going on with you lately?” 

Donghyuck can tell that Renjun’s actually worried, and it makes Donghyuck’s heart clench. Amidst all the running, all the floating away, he hasn’t been a good friend lately, has he?

“I’ve just had a few things on my mind,” Donghyuck responds. A flicker of truth, even if it’s not the full truth. Starting small, letting it grow. 

Renjun sighs, leans against the wall like he needs it to hold him up through this. “Okay… I could tell, actually. I thought you would talk to me about it eventually, but you’re starting to do destructive things, Donghyuck. I’ve never seen you as drunk as you were yesterday. And you can drink if you want, of course, but on top of everything else and you being so distant lately, I can't help but worry. I feel like we haven’t talked to each other in weeks, with our last real conversation being before I moved in. How can someone feel further away when they’re sleeping in a room across the hall?”

It’s so obviously a rhetorical question that Donghyuck stays silent as Renjun takes a moment to gather the rest of his thoughts. There’s a backlog, words all pouring out now that Donghyuck is here, standing still. 

“We’re friends, you know? You’re one of my closest friends,” Renjun says firmly. “You’re important to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to help fix it. And figure out a way to go back to how we were before.”

Here’s the thing about running: your senses grow amplified. Breaths coming out shallow, blood roaring, heart pounding. Lungs and limbs aching for relief, desperate for oxygen. Then, you reach a point where all of that falls away, fades into the background, and you’re left with only your thoughts to keep you company. 

Now, here’s something Donghyuck has learned while running, nothing to focus on aside from his thoughts: he doesn’t think he can go back to how everything was before.

He can’t even imagine it.

He feels like a different person, every cell replaced by something new. How could they go back?

“Renjun,” Donghyuck breathes. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Renjun’s expression cracks, a blend of confusion and alarm splitting through. “What?”

“There’s no going back to how things were before.” A deep breath. “I should tell you something.”

Donghyuck’s starting to wish he had shrugged his coat off before they’d reached this point of the conversation. As if he needs anything else to give him a reason to sweat right now. 

“I overheard you and Chenle the day you moved in,” Donghyuck hears himself say. It’s almost an out-of-body experience. Renjun looks puzzled, so Donghyuck details, “It was an accident, I swear. But I heard you guys talking about the person you like.”

Donghyuck has been thinking about Chenle’s description of the person Renjun likes. He already does all the things Chenle mentioned, so similar to that other guy, and he knows he can treat Renjun just as well—no, even better than that guy. 

He’s about to say something along the lines of, Like me instead, I love you, a little pathetically—though Donghyuck has never claimed to be not pathetic—but Renjun’s jaw has slackened, eyes gone wide. When he speaks again, his voice shakes.

“Wow. Don’t tell me that’s why you started avoiding me? We’re friends, Donghyuck. You could try to treat me like one by being considerate about my feelings.” 

“I tried—” but Renjun’s no longer listening to him, it seems, as much as he wanted to get Donghyuck to talk. He steps forward, and Donghyuck takes a step back, until his heels hit the wall. 

“You’re so unfair.” Fury rides high in Renjun’s voice as he leans in. “Running before I get the chance to tell you myself.” 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Even now, with Renjun close to him, half of Donghyuck’s focus lasers in on the way he could press an inch forward and slot his lips with Renjun’s—he must be truly out of his mind.

“Don’t be sorry.” Renjun shakes his head, huffing out a derisive laugh. “You know what’s funny though? I knew you didn’t actually have feelings for me. But I always thought that if you ever realized how I felt, our friendship would be strong enough to stay the way it was. I must have been crazy… can you really stay just friends with someone you’re in love with?”

“No,” Donghyuck finds himself agreeing, before the words fully catch up to his brain. 

His thoughts stop at once, record scratch and all. “What do you mean you knew I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“It was pretty obvious. I mean, you flirt with me, sure, but it’s never serious.” Renjun gives him a thin smile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t fall in love with you because of that, I knew you never meant any of it.”

Donghyuck’s brain is malfunctioning again.

Why do conversations with Renjun seem to do that to him lately? They should work on that. 

“Wait,” Donghyuck shuffles to the side, trying to put some space between them to breathe, think clearly. “You’re in love with me?”

Renjun frowns. “What?” 

“You’re in love with me?” Donghyuck repeats.

He does his mental calculations, then runs them again, and he’s left gaping at sums that don’t add up. 

“For a while… since my senior show, I think. Or maybe before that. It’s a little hard to tell exactly when.” Renjun leans against the wall again, studying Donghyuck’s features, taking in the surprise that he’s sure is all over his face like a billboard. 

He’s so confused that he can hardly focus on the fact that Renjun loves him back. 

“Am I dreaming?” Donghyuck asks seriously.

Renjun squints at him. “What are you saying? Are you really going to gloss over what I said? Donghyuck.” Renjun’s tone is dripping with disappointment, which at least brings Donghyuck out of his daze. 

“Renjun.” He takes a step closer, another, one more, until he can take Renjun’s hands in his. There’s a ball in his chest, light, hot, burning. He begins with, “I love you. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with.” Donghyuck starts with this, so Renjun never thinks he doesn’t love him back ever again.

It’s actually an absurd thought, something that goes against the laws of the universe, he’s pretty sure. 

Renjun is carved in the image of love. When Donghyuck thinks of love, sees the sun, basks in its radiance, he thinks of Renjun first. “It honestly kinda scares me how much I love you. I didn’t think you loved me back.”

Now, Renjun looks like he’s the one who can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What—you didn’t hear us say your name?” His lips turn down. “Then why did you… after finding out…?”

“I didn’t know you liked me. I would never push you away because of that, even if I was crazy enough to not have feelings for you. But I do,” the words come out a little desperate for Renjun to hear him out, trying to explain himself. “I thought you and Chenle were talking about someone else. Some guy Jisung mentioned.” 

“What guy?” Renjun questions, though he sounds like he’s starting to understand. 

“Some guy at a bar that you were interested in during our junior year of college? He said something about dates every month and how you… yeah," he trails off, the words dying on his tongue, a silent protest at the mere thought of Renjun being in love with someone else, even now. "I thought you were still into that guy.” 

Renjun looks like he’s fallen deep in thought. He also looks so pretty right now (and loves Donghyuck back!) that Donghyuck wants to kiss him. At the same time, they really should talk. 

“Dates?” Renjun mutters to himself, head tilting to one side. “I wasn’t dating anyone that year.” Then something seems to dawn on him, face clearing, traces of confusion starting to melt away. “The only thing I can think of, well, I used to go to Bloom’s open mic nights that year. I would bring my sketchbook, and I liked listening to your and Mark’s sets as I worked. I think Yangyang and Chenle thought this meant I was in love with you.” Renjun rolls his eyes but smiles. “Maybe I was, just a little bit.”

Donghyuck is honestly reeling.

He blinks, once, twice, trying to process this new information.

Renjun used to come to open mic night? There's no way.

Donghyuck has looked out into the crowd at Bloom's enough times to lose count. If this is all true, how did Donghyuck never see the love of his life?

If this is all true (which Donghyuck is slowly starting to understand it is. Renjun wouldn't lie, especially not about this), does this mean he's the other guy?

All this time?

His heart aches and soars all at once.

Fear and assumptions, these could be Donghyuck’s downfall.

He's been aware of this since he was a kid, when his eyes landed on the flyer for his school's production of Wicked, and amidst his excitement, there was a small part of him that wondered if he should audition, if his efforts would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment. He's learned how to squash the fear when it starts taking root, recognizing that you never know what lies ahead if you don't try.

But when it comes to Renjun, he's only been choosing the path of least resistance. What comes instinctually, what comes easily. And fear is a wind that carries him away, threatening to topple over things he’s worked hard to build. It even almost took him away from this moment.

(How terrible it would have been to give in to the fear, to never know that Renjun loves him too, has loved him all this time. How wonderful it is to be standing here now, ready to face anything.)

He pushes his thoughts away by focusing on Renjun in front of him, and the ball of light in his chest expands, grows warmer. He feels it glow in his fingertips, down to his toes, through his entire body.

And God, he hopes that this feeling never goes away.

“No way… Renjunnie, did you have a crush on me?” He’s half-teasing, half-delighted. 

Renjun’s starting to flush, shades of pink blooming on a canvas, and it’s a sight that belongs in a museum or a shrine, deserving of reverence.

But then again, Donghyuck has admitted to being selfish. He doesn’t want anyone else to see this. 

“I don’t know why I like you,” Renjun tries to say scornfully, attempting to wrench his hands free, but Donghyuck holds onto him tighter. 

“Renjun.” He’s buzzing, alight, floating like a hot air balloon. The truth is both blazing and a breath of much needed air. “I really want to kiss you.” 

Renjun halts in his movements, eyes darting to Donghyuck as his lips part just the slightest. His cheeks are still a pretty rose, a hint of a smile starting to tug at the edge of his lips, and it’s oddly similar to the vision Donghyuck had when he’d first heard about Renjun liking someone. But it’s also so much better, with Renjun’s bright eyes trained on Donghyuck, hands so warm and snug in his.

“Then do it,” Renjun murmurs, and it’s a spell, enchanting, something that Donghyuck can’t prevent and has no thought of resisting anyway. His hand comes up to cup the other’s face, palm pressing against arteries where he can faintly sense blood pulsing beneath the skin, hot, alive, so lucky to be alive. 

Renjun’s lashes have fluttered close, and Donghyuck takes a moment (just one, knowing there will be many moments to come) to memorize how pretty Renjun looks, soft, pliant, content. 

Then Donghyuck is finally giving into the pull, a force that’s always been present, ever strong and magnetic. Kissing Renjun feels like a stellar collision, two burning stars gravitationally bound, meeting in the middle. 

☀️

“Fucking finally!” Chenle cries out, water sloshing out of his cup in his frenzy, and Jeno murmurs something to the same effect but much quieter. Jaemin leans back in his seat with a satisfied glint in his eye, while Mark looks pleasantly surprised. 

Jisung’s jaw hangs ajar, eyes zipping between Renjun and Donghyuck as he tries to register what the two of them have casually dropped in the ground floor of Giordano’s. The slice of pizza in his hands slips back onto his plate, sauce splattering to the rim. 

“Wait, Donghyuck is the person you were going on dates with during my freshman year?” He looks like someone whose perspective of the world has shattered, the pieces lying around his feet. 

“I wasn’t dating anyone, Jisung, how did you come to that conclusion?” Renjun sounds exasperated, yet still so fond. Donghyuck thinks this might be Jisung privilege. How unfair. 

“It just seemed like it,” Jisung stresses. “You looked like someone in love!”

“How did you put that together but you couldn’t figure it out when the two of them were standing in front of you?” Chenle snorts into his cup.

Jisung splutters, and Donghyuck swoops in with, “Oh, Renjunnie looked like someone in love?” like it’s the most interesting thing in the world—to him, it is. 

Jisung nods absently, still obviously trying to put the pieces together. “I even went to their open mic nights a few times! How did I never see you?”

“I usually sat near the back.” Renjun shrugs.

“You should have come up to us, I would’ve put in more effort for my cutest fan.” Donghyuck grins, and Renjun shoves his shoulder, though he’s smiling like he can’t help it. 

“Finally,” Jeno repeats.

“You work fast, Donghyuck,” Mark commends, impressed. And he would say that, given that he realized two of his best friends are in love with each other yesterday.

“Fast? Most of us have been watching them dance around each other for years.” Jaemin scoffs, even as he smiles at them.

“I’m taking credit for this, by the way,” Chenle states. “You’re welcome.”

“Where would we be without you?” Donghyuck hums teasingly. Chenle nods seriously and agrees, "I know, right?"

The feather light feeling in Donghyuck’s chest remains throughout the remainder of their lunch, up until Jeno’s bidding them goodbye so he can reach the airport in time for his flight. He shuts them down when they offer to see him off with the words, I’m running late, gonna just call an Uber, you guys don’t have to all come with me, okay? Alright, bye guys.

“Don’t say bye,” Chenle chides. “Say, see you later.”

And then Jeno’s gone, after flashing them an amused smile and saying, alright, alright, I’ll see you guys later, and it feels like watching a piece of Donghyuck’s heart leave too, as bittersweet as parting ways always is. The rest of them soon split up as well, heading in two different directions. 

Renjun’s side is comfortable and warm as he presses up against Donghyuck after they’ve found seats on the bus, and Donghyuck reaches to grasp Renjun’s hand in his. 

“Ah, your hand’s cold,” Renjun complains, but he doesn’t make any move to break away.  

“Share the warmth, Renjunnie. You wouldn’t let your boyfriend freeze, would you?” Donghyuck pouts. 

Renjun interlocks their fingers as he glances out the window, humming in contemplation. “Maybe I would.”

Donghyuck whines, gently knocking his shoulder against the other. “You wouldn’t.”

And this is something that’s familiar, but new all at once. A spark turned into something that has steadily been burning all this time, crafted carefully to withstand harsh rains and threatening winds.

And here's the thing about Donghyuck. He never starts fires he can't put out, and that's something that's always been a part of his charm.

This fire, however, the one currently lighting him up from the inside—this is one fire he'll always put effort into keeping alive.

A fire to keep him warm even on the coldest days. One that's made to last.

Renjun grins, bright and playful. “Wanna find out?”

The hold on Donghyuck’s hand grows a little tighter, and the ball of light in his chest flares.