Chapter Text
>>
Jeno stared at the drink in his hand morosely, his eyes tracing the slow movement of a lonely droplet of water down the cold glass.
He had never been fond of drinking, but the woes of peer pressure in his dumbly-chosen corporate lifestyle led to him sitting in the same old greasy dive-bar while his colleagues embarrassingly drank themselves to oblivion. It was a horde of bullshit, honestly, but Renjun’s persuasions were not to be taken lightly. That man could get a boa constrictor to sing him a lullaby.
It was slightly frightening, as Renjun generally strived to be.
Raucous laughter sounded from the other end of the table, Donghyuck energetically slapping the blue haired man seated next to him as he chugged down an impressively large mug of beer. Jeno eyed the scene with disdain, yet mild admiration.
He eyed the droplet inching down his glass again, his mushy, overworked brain deliriously recognising itself in the poor millilitre of water’s solo onslaught down the length of the beer mug - a lonely little thing trying to work its honest way on a straight (ha!) path down. Fucking metaphors, man.
The bar was more filled today than it usually was, the humidity pressing down on Jeno’s shirt uncomfortably. He knew the ten-odd new faces in the bar were part of the new team that was going to be collaborating with them on their new project - a conceptual and story-based adventure game, which Jeno thinks will be set in third person playing. He hadn’t quite sketched out all the details yet, though he felt excited to.
His boss had unceremoniously drawn him into his office in the morning and told him that a new Marketing team would be working with them - a precedent to a mostly-finalised merger between NeoCorp and CultureTech, followed by some business bullshit that obviously went over his head. Instead, he lost himself in the anxious dread of breaking the newcomers into the weird eccentricities of his team and their admittedly bizarre work environment and process.
In his defence, he had been made team leader, and had full control over their office space - all his colleagues preferred a comfortable workspace compared to the corporate rigidity that was usually expected; and they were a creative company. They could show up in sweatpants for all he cared, as long as they got their work done.
Anyway.
The noise around him was louder than usual - Jeno was mildly horrified that there had actually been scope for things to get louder - and he was fighting off a headache while staring morosely at his glass. The usual Friday. The only thing missing was -
“Oi Lee,” Woojin suddenly sneered next to him, jerkily invading his space, and Jeno sighed. Just on time. He could literally hear the alcohol in Woojin’s voice, which was, well, not new. “Why are you sitting like your grandma just died, huh?” He slapped Jeno’s back with surprising strength, the uncomfortable heat of his sweaty palm sending chills down Jeno’s spine as it lingered, “Come on, drink up!”
“No thanks,” Jeno said firmly, leaning away from Woojin and his stinky breath, barely resisting the urge to pop one of the mints that rested on the table into his mouth. Jeez .
“Oh come on,” the asshole drawled, “You never let loose!”
With good reason, Jeno thought, internally scoffing. What an asshole.
“Woojin, with all due respect,” Jeno smiled pleasantly, “No.”
He felt a shove disrupt his centre of gravity, surprise widening his eyes as his glass was suddenly upturned, dregs of disgusting beer clinging to his Henley. That was new.
“What the hell,” he hissed, “What’s wrong with you, man?”
“Hah,” Woojin scoffed, “Why do you pretend to be so, so,” he breathed heavily, “So goddamn holier than thou?”
“What the fuck are you on about?” Jeno huffed, confused, but smart enough to be slightly scared. Woojin was drunk, drunker than Jeno had expected so early in the night, and he felt unease creep down his neck.
Woojin pressed closer, and Jeno leaned further back, his clothes uncomfortably damp. “You-”
Woojin made a stilted movement to get up from his seat, and Jeno flinched instinctively, bringing his arms up to cover his face pre-emptively, bracing himself for a blow that miraculously never landed.
He blinked, confused, lowering his arms to see wiry arms clutching Woojin by the collar roughly, his eyes tracing the taut muscles up till the wide lines of familiar shoulders. His heart leapt to his throat, begging to be let out of his rib cage when he realised who the limbs belonged to. The unease that lingered in the slouch of his shoulders melted away to a mind-fucking combination of anticipation and nervousness and confusion, and a million other emotions that he could spend hours trying to identify. God knows he could never put into words how he actually felt, because his dumb heart and even dumber brain fizzled into blissful nothingness when Na Jaemin stood in front of him.
God. Na Jaemin.
“Think he said no, my man,” Jaemin drawled, his voice somehow sounding bored, even though his eyes were sharp, alert, glinting; hyper-focused on the almost indistinguishable distance between Woojin’s sweaty palm and Jeno’s forearms. Jeno, on the other hand, felt as if he had been set on fire, his mouth drier than the Sahara. All the water in his body had seemingly evaporated into thin air at the intensity of Na fucking Jaemin’s existence.
Na fucking Jaemin.
Na fucking Jaemin was in front of him, in the same old dive-bar he was forced to go to with his colleagues at least twice a month, somehow looking better than he ever had in all the years Jeno had known him. Na fucking Jaemin was in the greasy hellhole that was Dream, in all his pressed-floral-shirt glory.
Jeno’s distaste for the day somehow evaporated with an audible poof, which, he belatedly realised, was his brain functions giving up on maintaining his dignity and making him gasp out aloud in front of his ex-boyfriend. Totally not embarrassing.
“Oh you’re the Marketing dude,” Woojin slurred, frowning when his attempts at breaking free from Jaemin’s hold were in vain. “Man, let go of me, what the hell?”
Jaemin heaved Woojin from where he had been crowding Jeno in one mighty move, and Jeno’s mouth felt drier, his cheeks hotter, his pants slightly tighter. Fucking Jaemin-coded hormones. “Go sit somewhere else,” he said pleasantly, his hands still loosely clutching the drunk man’s crumpled collar.
“Who do you think you are, huh?” Woojin’s voice was loud, louder than it needed to be, and Jeno winced when Donghyuck turned from his somewhat successful attempts at flirting with the blue-haired man to look at him questioningly.
“A concerned colleague,” Jaemin’s voice was still pleasant, bordering on deceptively cloying, his fist tightening around Woojin’s shirt. Jeno’s memory of his meticulously compiled dictionary of Na Jaemin And His Emotions And Tells was still at the forefront of his mind (he was a lovesick fool, sue him); and he recognised rage in the tensed muscles, the tightened wrinkles around narrowed eyes; and he scrambled to stop a drunken one-sided bar fight (because Jaemin would win, obviously) in his colleagues’ favourite shitty dive bar. The things he did for them, honestly.
“Okay,” Jeno cut in, smiling disarmingly, “I think that’s enough.” He hated fights. Jaemin knew he hated fights. He tried to convey his displeasure through his eyes, staring down Jaemin stubbornly until the man let go of Woojin, albeit it was with a reluctant sigh.
Woojin glared at both of them (Jeno maintained it was more at Jaemin than at him, obviously), muttering something no doubt unflattering under his breath before stalking away to the open bar. Jeno scoffed at his back. Good fucking riddance.
“Jeno!” Donghyuck called out, concern swimming in his eyes through the veil of drunkenness, “You good?”
Jeno waved him off, turning back to Jaemin, whose face was now blank. Go figure.
“What are you doing here?” he asked impatiently, desperately, the ‘ what’ somehow the first thing to be harshly untangled from the mess of questions in his head - How did you find me? Why did you help? (Well, he knew the answer to that. Still.) Why are you here? How have you been doing?
Why didn’t you call me after I left?
All of them were embarrassing as hell. At least he went with the least humiliating question to ask in a stupid bar in a stupid city that Jaemin hadn’t been in for the majority of five years. Small mercies.
“What, no thank you?” Jaemin did that almost-smile thing that he did, the one where he looked boredly amused and wholly indifferent and all sorts of unattainable, and Jeno hated that he knew what that particular expression meant - that Jaemin was wary.
“Jaemin.”
“Jeno,” Jaemin mimicked, and Jeno’s heart climbed to his throat at the way Jaemin’s lips formed his name. No one said it that way. He hadn’t heard that particular inflection of his name in five lonely years.
“Jeno?” Donghyuck was behind him now, and Jeno turned sharply, tearing his eyes away from Jaemin’s mouth with no small difficulty. “What happened?” His arm came to rest at the small of Jeno’s back, and Jeno suddenly wanted to cry.
“It’s nothing, Hyuck,” he managed, softening at the way his friend’s eyes traced up and down his figure worriedly, assessing Jaemin with a sharper, more detached glint to his gaze. “Woojin was being an ass.”
Donghyuck’s eyes darkened, searching for Woojin among the throng of patrons at the bar. “I’ll kill him. Why can’t he ever take a hint?”
Jeno puffed out a laugh, squeezing Donghyuck’s waist fondly. “Don’t worry about him, Hyuck. You go enjoy your night, okay?” If there was anyone who deserved a break, it was Donghyuck - chaos gremlin as he was, he worked harder than anyone in the office - and he had been running particularly ragged as their current project mercifully drew to an end.
“If you’re sure,” he said, before setting his gaze on Jaemin again. “Who’s this?”
“I’m one of the guys from NeoCorp,” Jaemin introduced himself, more closed off than Jeno had ever seen him - and Jaemin had fucking broken up with him, okay - “Na Jaemin. I’m the head of the Marketing Team.”
Donghyuck extended his hand, and Jaemin took it after a moment of hesitation. “Lee Donghyuck, I’m one of the guys under Jeno in the Creative Dev team.”
Jaemin turned to him in surprise at that, and Jeno could feel the tips of his ears flush. Was it pride - the ‘You didn’t think I’d get this far, did you?’ - or was it hopeful embarrassment - the ‘Are you proud that I got this far?’ that made the blood rush to his head? Fuck if he knew.
Either way, it explained what Jaemin was doing at the bar today - what he was doing in Seoul. Of course he would be in the team that was collaborating with their company for their new project. Of course he and Jeno were team leaders. The universe and its twisted ways were predictable in their unpredictability, if not woefully fucked up and completely ignorant of the trials of Jeno and his poor old heart.
“Thank you for helping Jeno,” Donghyuck smiled at Jaemin after an awkward pause. “Dumbass here doesn’t like to ‘escalate situations’,” he emphasised the last two words by rolling his eyes and waving his hands around in a poor imitation of quotation marks.
“It’s no problem,” Jaemin said smilingly, although he held himself very stiffly. “Does this happen often?”
“No, he’s never tried to get violent,” Jeno interjected quickly, before Donghyuck would start on his long-winding ‘Get People To Hate Woojin’ agenda and try to get a literal stranger involved. He didn’t put it past his friend to try.
Well, Jaemin wasn’t a stranger. No. Far from one, if he was being honest. Probably the only person who actually knew everything about Jeno, not that he would ever admit that. But he was a stranger to Donghyuck, which is what Jeno was considering here.
Jaemin narrowed his eyes at him at that, and Jeno knew that Jaemin didn’t believe him at all (Huh. Maybe Jaemin’s dictionary of Lee Jeno And His Emotions And Tells was also still in use), but he shook his head at him in the most miniscule of motions. Later.
“Well, I hope you stay safe,” Jaemin said politely, his eyes still narrowed. He bowed his head towards both Jeno and Donghyuck, before making his way back to his table.
Jeno did his best to keep his face impassive, fervently hoping that none of his disappointment at Jaemin ending their conversation so abruptly made it onto his face. Considering that Donghyuck only slapped his back jovially and said, “Lee Jeno, I can’t believe a hot-ass man came to save you and you didn’t even get his number!”, he had mostly succeeded.
He went back to his seat, mournfully looking at his spilt glass. Maybe it was time to head back home, although his apartment was lonely as hell (His cat had run away a month ago. He was still not over it.) and maybe being alone at home right after meeting the love of his life who had broken up with him five years ago was, er, not the best of ideas.
His skin prickled as he felt Jaemin’s heated gaze on the side of his face, his skin flushing under the blinking pale lights of the dive bar.
Huh. That was fun.
With the last two shreds of dignity he had left, he steadfastly ignored the intense glare, distractedly drumming his fingers on his glass instead. He wasn’t emotionally prepared or drunk off his mind enough to face that shit.
Well, he only had the capacity to change one of those variables.
Downing disgusting shots of soju it was, then.
<<
Jaemin looked surreal in the sunlight, the golden light illuminating his lithe figure as he and Jeno paused their walk in the garden to take a photograph of some strangely shaped trees.
Jeno was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to close the distance between them, wrap his arms around Jaemin’s wonderfully unrealistically tiny waist and bury his nose in the soft expanse of his warm neck, to breathe in the scent of pure Jaemin Jaemin Jaemin.
How outlandishly lovely would it feel, he wondered, if he were allowed to press his chapped lips against Jaemin’s throat and trace the hard line of his veins with carefully placed butterfly kisses - if he were allowed to tighten his grip around Jaemin’s waist as Jaemin would arch his back into Jeno’s chest, allowing Jeno all the more liberty to chase down to those deliciously jutted out collarbones and, and, and-
“Jen! Come here so I can get one of you in front of this weird ass tree!”
Jeno blinked, his throat dry. Jaemin turned to him, his eyes bright in excitement - the enchanting shine to them that somehow only came alive when he and Jeno would go on their little cycling expeditions, despite his vehement protests against exercising. Jeno’s heart melted in pure, unadulterated fondness - there was nothing dearer to him, no one cuter and lovelier than Jaemin in the entire universe.
“Sure,” he cleared his throat, willing his mildly (er, very) horny thoughts and mushy feelings away from the forefront of his mind - because how could they ever truly abandon their deep-rooted home in his brain - and shuffled through the flattened grass to pose in front of the bent tree, his head tilted and eyes crinkled in a smile, which was the only pose he knew, to be frank. Jaemin tried to get him to expand his repertoire, but he could only look mildly bored or extremely crazy. Nothing in between. In extremes, as was Jeno’s tendency to exist in all spheres.
“Sexy,” Jaemin drawled, winking at Jeno as he scrolled through his phone, and Jeno was too practiced at pressing down the blush that threatened to colour the tips of his ears red to be noticeably fazed by the comment. Perks of being in love with your best friend while trying to not be in love with your best friend, he assumed. Fun times.
“Should I take one of you?” he offered, his palm outstretched towards Jaemin in anticipation of the cool plastic of Jaemin’s polaroid camera being pressed against his skin. Jaemin grinned at him gratefully, handing over the device before he jubilantly skipped to the tree, throwing up one funky pose after the other as Jeno clicked.
“Let’s take one together!” Jaemin smiled at him, and when Jeno caught his eye, it was all he could do to not sweep Jaemin into his arms and kiss him against the rough bark of the tree. It was moments like this, when the sun seemed to be an extension of the smile on Jaemin’s face - when their heartbeats seemed so in sync that Jeno could swear they were two halves of the same star - that Jeno thought he had already found his forever.
Two high school kids, ready for nothing, ready for everything. Both of them against the world, perfectly in love.
He leant his head against Jaemin’s hair as they posed for the camera, a smile naturally painting his face with a pink flush as the vanilla scent of Jaemin’s cologne enveloped him. If anyone ever asked him what home was, his answer would be effortless - the warmth of Jaemin’s hand against his back, their hair softly tangled, vanilla all around him.
Just Jaemin.
He suddenly felt a damp warmth against his cheek, and his eyes widened when he realised it was the gentle press of Jaemin’s lips against his skin, blood rushing to the tips of his ears at the sensation.
“Jaemin,” he whined, slightly embarrassed, mostly caught off guard. Goddamnit, he needed preparation for this, for when Jaemin’s affections overflowed from his lithe frame onto everyone around him. It was not healthy for his heart to beat so erratically, okay? He was too young to die of a heart attack.
Jaemin just laughed, rubbing his nose against Jeno’s cheek in the softest of nuzzles before moving away, and Jeno was too self-aware to pretend that the cold disappointment he felt was from anything but the distance between them.
“Let’s go back,” Jaemin said, slipping his phone into the zipped pocket of his pants before making his way to his cycle. “It’ll get too crowded in a while.”
Jeno hummed, strapping his helmet back on. “Let’s get ramyun at the store first, Jaem.”
Jaemin rolled his eyes. “You’re the only reason that ajhussi’s shop earns money, you know? You and your obsession with eating there.”
“Hey,” Jeno gasped, affronted, “You eat there as much as I do!”
“I only eat there because you want to, you dumbass,” Jaemin sighed. “Anyway, let’s go. You feel like shin ramyun today?”
“Always,” Jeno agreed enthusiastically, cracking his neck before he began pedalling. “Race you there?”
“You read my mind,” Jaemin smirked.
>>
Jeno was a responsible adult.
No, really. He did his laundry every week, he cleaned his apartment every alternate day, he barely had alcohol in his house, and he cooked dinner for himself at least twice a week. He was a model adult, okay.
Which was why Saturday morning saw him staring at his phone, his dusty old text-chain with Jaemin open on the screen. He never had the heart to delete it, too many memories clogged up in his sentimental ol’ heart. He had even gone as far as to back it up on his drive, which was how all their dumb romantic texts had survived a phone change and three new software updates. Let it be known that Lee Jeno was a Disgusting Romantic.
The last text message was an optimistic one -
jenjen <3
i’m almost there!
A wonderful ode to Jeno’s naivete - Jaemin had broken up with him that day.
Jeno shuddered.
His head was throbbing painfully, his brain dangerously close to giving up on him and his bad decisions. He didn’t drink alcohol for a very good reason - he was prone to horrible, horrible hangovers. At least in college, he had Jaemin to coddle him and make him his hangover soup (which was a gift from the Gods, Jeno could swear his life on it). But now, without any knowledge of how hangover soups worked and deprived of Jaemin’s warm cuddles and sugary voice when he would soothe Jeno’s headaches, he was despairingly ill-equipped to deal with the Consequences of Alcohol.
But regardless. As Jeno shouldered the burden of being a Responsible Adult™, he really needed to get his shit together and have a proper conversation with Jaemin. They were meant to work together for the foreseeable future (fuck capitalistic business mergers, honestly), and because Jeno was a professional worker who was professional and simply oozed maturity, he knew that they needed to sort their ‘Oh-we’re-exes-meeting-for-the-first-time-in-years-because-we-need-to-work-together’ drama stat. ASAP. Whatever the word was.
He couldn’t afford Chaos Gremlin Lee Donghyuck or Viper Snake Huang Renjun ever finding out about Love of His Life Na Jaemin, ever . Especially not if they were going to remain exes. If they got back together (and oh how Jeno’s foolish heart hoped), then he might extend them the courtesy of telling them. To be completely honest, he was totally on the fence. He really didn’t want to bear their screeching and ribbing and their concerned coddling (as they were both, surprisingly, mother hens), because he would definitely cry. Let it also be known that Lee Jeno was a Disgusting Soft Man.
He breathed in shakily, clammy fingers hovering over his keyboard. What does one even type in such a situation?
hey jaem we need to work together so we need to be Mature but i’m also kinda still in love with you haha bye
That didn’t sound mature. That sounded the furthest thing from mature. Fuck. Jeno backspaced it as fast as he could.
Good morning, Jaemin-ssi. As we discovered yesterday, we must work together because of a business merger signed between our companies. I hope we can let bygones be bygones and maintain a professional environment in the office.
Jeno grimaced at it. It sounded mature and detached and everything that Jeno was not, and the professionalism and distance dripping from every word stung. That wouldn’t do. But maybe it was a good back-up. Jeno copied it onto his keyboard and then backspaced it, extremely careful not to accidentally hit Enter and send the text instead.
jenjen <3
hey jaemin. it’s been a while. considering that we need to work together for the foreseeable future, let me know if there’s anything you want me to do to make it more comfortable. if you want, we can meet to clear the air before the working week begins.
That was a good text, right? After a moment of hesitation, he quickly thumbed another text before clicking his phone off, throwing it to the depths of the pillow-and-blanket pile on his bed. That was enough Adulting before noon on a Saturday.
jenjen <3
thank you for yesterday.
it was good to see you.
Well, what now? He gave in and turned on his phone again. The little ‘delivered’ tick below his messages (plural! What idiot triple-texts his ex?) blinked back at him menacingly. Jeno buried his face in his pillow and screamed.
It was only after Jeno finished deep-cleaning his apartment and playing three rounds of Fifa that he gathered the courage to check his phone.
He heaved a shaky sigh of relief. The perks of Adulting, huh.
jaeminnie
yeah. let’s meet before monday. maybe tomorrow? or tonight works too.
it was good seeing you too.
<<
“Do you think humans are the only ones out there?” Jaemin asked, his hands folded behind his head, the very picture of effortless perfection.
Jeno looked up at him from the textbook he had been reading ( er , zoning out on), slightly confused but all too used to Jaemin’s random questions. “I don’t know,” he said, stretching his arms above his head, the bottom of his uniform riding up and revealing a sliver of his abs, something which he was insanely proud of. “Seems improbable, doesn’t it? There are so many planets, so many galaxies - there must be life somewhere else, right?”
Jaemin leant forward, resting his head on his palms. “Right? D’you think any of them are telepathic?”
“Telepathic?’ Jeno raised his eyebrow. “I mean, maybe? That’s a weird question. How did that even come to your mind?”
“I don’t know,” Jaemin said, but he refused to meet Jeno's eyes, sheepish. “It’s just-”
“Hmm?” Jeno smiled encouragingly. Sometimes, Jaemin needed the reassurance that whatever he said would be heard, and Jeno was more than glad to give it to him. Everything Jaemin spoke of was far more interesting than anything Jeno could come up with anyway.
“It's just, sometimes, I feel like you can read my mind, you know? And that I can read yours.”
“Oh.” Jeno knew his cheeks were blood red with warmth, and he quickly jerked his gaze away from Jaemin and his earnest eyes and his hesitant smile. What the fuck was Jaemin going for here, huh? How was Jeno supposed to keep his feelings to himself, to pretend he wasn’t painfully in love, when Jaemin said stuff like that with such - such nonchalance and, and - conviction and shyness?
“I’m sorry,” Jaemin hid his face behind his hands, and Jeno felt like he was overflowing with so much pure, unadulterated fondness for the boy in front of him. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”
Jeno attempted a chuckle, but he was sure he sounded like a flustered mess. “Do you really think that?” he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Like-like we can read each other’s minds?”
“I mean, yeah?” Jaemin’s voice sounded muffled, but so, so precious .
“So do you know what I’m thinking of right now?” His heart was in his throat, but he said it anyway. There, he fucking did it! All those reddit threads he had devoured on how to confess to your best friend, and he was going to attempt in a dusty library while preparing for their college entrance examinations. Classic Jeno, he thought to himself.
“What?” Jaemin dropped his hands, his eyes wide. “Um-”
“Come on, Jaemin-ah,” Jeno smiled shakily, his fingers trembling under the table. “Can you read my mind?”
“If I get it wrong?” Jaemin bit his lip, his eyes darting all over Jeno’s face. “What do we do then?”
“We’ll work on it till we get it right, then,” Jeno shrugged, clenching his fists to stop himself from drumming his fingers on his thighs. His heart was thundering dangerously. Was Jaemin really - was this really - what -
“I think-” Jaemin inhaled nervously, reaching a hand across the table to rest over Jeno’s textbook. As if it were a Pavlovian response, Jeno raised one of his hands to rest over Jaemin’s, their fingers interlacing together automatically, an instinct mastered over years of watching horror movies and running away from their mothers in the park and just simple, plain comfort. “I think you want to kiss me.”
Jeno beamed, his eyes narrowing to little slits, his cheeks raising. “Guess telepaths do exist, huh? D’you think that scientists will consider us aliens?”
“We’ll have to see about that. Jeno-yah,” Jaemin gripped his fingers tighter around Jeno’s, gulping in what Jeno thought, or hoped, was anticipation. “Can you read my mind too?”
“I think you want me to kiss you,” Jeno said, all the worry in his heart disappearing in a single swoosh of relief. “I think you want to kiss me too, Jaemin-ah.”
Jaemin grinned.
>>
“So, head of your team, huh?”
Jeno looked up in surprise from where he had been staring at the bottom of his glass, his ears tinged pink. “Well, I can say the same about you!” he retorted, stubbornly looking away from the enchanting glint in Jaemin’s eyes, the one that still made him want to give the man the entire world.
Jaemin just smiled. He seemed a lot more relaxed in an environment miles away from all the people who had been stuffed into the bar the previous day, and Jeno felt inexplicably proud of himself for suggesting a well-loved diner he had discovered with Renjun for their meeting (reunion?). He looked even better than before, glowing in a way that the stupid neon flashing lights of the bar had dared hide.
“How have you been?” Jeno asked after a pause. It wasn’t awkward, because he didn’t think anything could ever make silence awkward between him and Jaemin, dramatic break-ups inclusive. It was just... new. Novel. Maybe not in a good way, but it wasn’t bad.
“Good,” Jaemin hummed, drumming his long fingers against his glass of cold coffee. Jeno wondered if it was the same way he used to take it - more caffeine than water or sweetener, bitter and strong. Jaemin had reached before him and ordered himself a drink, much to Jeno’s (un)surprise. Jaemin had always been punctual about matters like this. Not that either of them had been in a proper, serious ‘let’s-get-married’ type relationship before each other. But Jeno knew it anyway.
Jeno raised an eyebrow at the simple answer. “Yah,” he muttered, sitting up straighter, “Don’t get curt with me now.”
Jaemin’s eyes widened before he huffed out a laugh. “I’m not trying to be,” he smiled wider now. “I wasn’t sure how I should talk to you.”
“Well, nothing’s changed,” Jeno grumbled, before he stuttered to a halt, wanting to hit his head against the wall. Telling your ex nothing’s changed for you isn’t a good thing, dumbass. “I mean,” he rushed to clarify, “I don’t want to be all awkward and shit now, especially considering we have to work together.” That made sense, didn’t it?
“Yeah,” Jaemin said, “I didn’t expect to see you yesterday.”
“What, you didn’t stalk me after we broke up?”
“Har-har,” Jaemin rolled his eyes. “You have no social media presence, Jeno.”
Oh. Well. “Right,” Jeno huffed. “I think it’s a waste of time, sue me.”
Jaemin raised his eyebrow mockingly, and Jeno wanted to punch him in his perfect face and then maybe kiss him. The sudden vision of Jaemin’s wide grin when Jeno would shyly press his lips against his skin assaulted his mind, which, well, no.
Bad brain.
“Anyway,” Jeno shook his head, as if it were that easy to remove Jaemin from his mind, “How come you’re here? Like, in Seoul?”
Jaemin shrugged. “It’s a very good opportunity. And, well, maybe I was slightly wrong before.”
Jeno’s heart leapt to his throat. “Wrong about what?”
“Me hating the city. I think I was just scared of change, plus, you know.”
“Know what?” Jeno asked, but he had an inkling.
“Things with my mom,” Jaemin grimaced, “They weren’t-” he cut himself off, looking pained.
Jeno softened. That’s what he had expected, but it didn’t make it any less hurtful to talk about. “Is she better now? Is she still-?”
“She’s better,” Jaemin acquiesced, “On both counts, actually. I made her go to therapy with me.”
“Wow,” Jeno’s jaw dropped. “Ajumeoni agreed to go to therapy? What did you even say to convince her?”
Jaemin chuckled bitterly. “She finally realised that I wasn’t going to change, I guess. She knew I had been going, and one day, she said she’d like to come with me.”
“I’m honestly surprised,” Jeno smiled wryly as he stared at the bottom of his glass again, unable to meet the intensity of Jaemin’s gaze during this particular topic of conversation. “Not that Ajumeoni is incapable of, well-” he added belatedly, but trailed off, because she had been incapable, and that had been the beginning of the metaphorical end. “I’m happy for you,” he finally said, looking up towards Jaemin again. “You deserve this, you know?”
“Do I? You haven’t known me for five years.”
“I knew you for the other twenty.”
The conversation had suddenly veered to a sharp left, idling towards the chasm of Emotions and Other Things that Jeno usually kept tightly screwed shut, but somehow, it didn’t weigh heavily on him today.
“Jaemin,” he began, before he paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts in a way that was at least remotely coherent. “What happened then was, um, unfortunate,” that was one way to understate things, “but it’s been five whole years.” He let himself smile as genuinely as he could at his dinner companion. “It’s okay to let it go, you know?”
“Really?” Jaemin’s eyes were boring into Jeno’s, startlingly vulnerable, and Jeno knew what he was asking was something different.
Do you forgive me? Are we good?
“Yeah,” Jeno beamed, feeling much lighter. “Now forget all that sad shit,” he reached out for the untouched menu on the table. “Let’s order something! I’ve had literally everything here, and because I knew you for twenty years, may I have the honour of suggesting some stuff?” he fake bowed, anticipating the shoe to his foot, the laughter wrenched out of his throat all too bright and all encompassing.
The perks of Adult conversations and therapy. Unprecedented outcomes, folks.
<<
Jeno braked his cycle at the entrance of the park, the tyres skidding against the cobblestones. Jaemin cut an intimidating figure as he stood with his back to Jeno, his figure illuminated by the dimming sunlight.
“Jaemin!” Jeno called out cheerfully, his heart filled with fondness at the thought that Jaemin was the one who had initiated a cycling expedition. Jeno was growing on him, he thought smugly.
He walked closer, but Jaemin still didn’t turn. Jeno blinked, confused. “Jaemin?” He reached close enough to brush the top of his boyfriend’s shoulder, but Jaemin turned before his fingers could kiss the fabric.
“Jeno,” he said, and Jeno had a bad feeling, because Jaemin looked.. different. Cold.
“Jaem? What’s wrong?” he asked, still confused, but the slightest tendril of fear taking root of his heart.
“We should break up.”
Jeno’s heart stilled. “Wh-what?” he stared at Jaemin, wondering if his boyfriend had gone crazy - if he had somehow heard it wrong. But Jaemin seemed to be in the right state of mind, and didn’t seem inclined to clarify any further, and Jeno was so, so confused.
“What? Why? Whe- What are you saying?” Jeno floundered, rapidly losing his grasp on what was going on .
“I can’t go to the city,” he said, as if it were that simple, and Jeno gaped.
“Baby, what are you saying? What’s wrong? I thought-”
“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Jaemin snarled, suddenly fired up and sparking. Jeno shrunk a bit into himself. “You thought. You planned. You dreamed. What did I do?”
“No, baby, we-”
“There’s no we, Jeno. It was all you,” Jaemin looked away from him, the corners of his eyes tightening in a grimace, and Jeno’s heart climbed to his throat at the statement, desperate to be let out of its cage.
“Why didn’t you say something?” his voice was barely more than whisper, and he felt horrified - knew he looked it - his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed pale.
Jaemin looked away, and for a moment, Jeno thought a flash of regret passed over his face.
“That’s irrelevant now,” he finally said, his voice heavy. “Anyway, my mom’s sick. I need to stay here with her.”
“Ajumeoni’s sick? What? Whe-”
“That’s the thing, Jeno!” Jaemin suddenly burst out, the most emotional he had been all day - perhaps the most he had allowed to slip from his usually tight grasp on his feelings, but it had never been like that with Jeno.
He had never been so guarded, and distant, and clinical , and Jeno felt bile rise up his throat, acid eating away at his heart that already thumped against his larynx at the thought that after all these years, Jaemin had felt the need to hide his emotions from Jeno.
“You don’t know shit about my life, or my mom - and all you want to talk about is some shiny life in the stupid fucking city!”
“Jaem-” Jeno breathed out, terrified, petrified, horribly afraid - because he didn’t know . He hadn’t known. But it couldn’t be true, could it?
Was it?
“No, that’s it. This is it.” Jaemin declared. “I’m leaving, I’m going back home. You,” he scoffed derisively, jutting a finger out in Jeno’s direction, “You go to your precious city, okay?”
“Jaemin!” Jeno followed him as he stalked ahead, practically running to catch up with Jaemin’s long rage-fuelled strides. “Jaemin, I know you well enough to know this isn’t the real reason,” he said, desperately hoping that he was right. He had to be. His Jaemin had been so excited to leave their two-star town and go to a place where both of them could thrive in a way they had never been allowed to in their hometown’s narrow streets and even narrower mindset.
His Jaemin had been positively glowing at the thought of moving to the city, Jeno could swear his life on it.
Jaemin paused in his steps, his back stiff. “Jeno,” he sounded pained now, “Just, just leave it, okay? We don’t want the same things from life. And that’s-”
“But we do!” Jeno refused to cry. “We do, Jaem, why are you doing this? I don’t understand,” his voice broke painfully at the end, and he heard Jaemin’s sharp inhale as he finally turned to look at him. “I don’t understand,” he said again, because he didn’t. He didn’t understand.
“My mom,” Jaemin sounded stilted, “She’s not - I can’t be with you and look after her at the same time, Jen,” his eyes were sharp with desperation and pain and a million things that suddenly shone clearly in the brown depths. “She isn’t-”
“Jaem, baby, whatever it is, we can get through it together-”
Jaemin was shaking his head before he could finish his sentence. “Not,” he cut himself off again, “Not together, Jen. We can’t, don’t you get it?”
“Not? What do you-” Jeno’s eyes widened as realisation sunk in, and his heart dropped from where it had been thumping listlessly in a pool of bile to the bottom of his knees, heavy as a stone.
Jaemin smiled bitterly. “Yeah. She - she can’t take it now, not when she’s so close to dying.”
Silence hung between them, charged. Jeno didn’t know what to say.
“But- but,” Jeno could feel the hysteria begin to creep up his spine, “All these years, how-”
“Just leave it, Jeno,” Jaemin said, resigned. “We’re done, okay?”
Jeno’s lips parted, but the words stuck to the back of his throat. Jaemin sighed, glancing at him in what seemed like a final glance before walking away. Jeno jolted out of where he had been frozen, his hands shaking in something foreign, something he couldn’t recognise.
“Jaemin, don’t-”
Jaemin ignored him, resolutely turning away from him and making his way towards his bicycle, and it took all of Jeno’s might to not instantly break down and cry, not because he was sad - which he was, admittedly - but because he was angry .
Furious.
That’s what the feeling was, wasn’t it? Rage, coloured blue with desperation and woe - rage at the world, at Jaemin’s mother, at Jaemin, at himself.
Jeno had always been more inclined to cry when he was angry, because he felt it so rarely that he didn’t know what to do with himself when he did, tears of frustration and rage stubbornly escaping his eyes even though he did his best to press them down and lock them in a box that they could never escape. He didn’t know what to do and he hated it.
“Wait, Jaemin!” Jeno called out desperately, one hand outstretched to clutch at the tips of Jaemin’s fingers, to feel his warm skin against the infinite nerves on the calloused pads of his fingers. To feel something real. Anything.
“What, Jeno?” his boyfriend - well, not anymore, was he? Oh god, Jeno didn’t know what to do - bit out, still refusing to face him.
“Before you go,” he said hesitantly, biting his bottom lip. Last gamble. All in.
“Jaem, before you go,” he repeated, his throat clogged up and his voice embarrassingly wobbly and thick, “Can you-”
Jaemin turned around, his face a schooled mask of indifference, but Jeno knew that wasn’t real. He knew that Jaemin knew what he was trying to do here, what he was trying to get him to say.
Jaemin knew, but still said nothing.
Jeno heaved a shaky breath. “Can you read my mind?”
Jaemin shook his arm harshly, and Jeno’s hand hung limply between them. The two cobblestones between them, well-trodden and smoothened over time with bits of moss peeking out between the cracks, seemed infinite.
Jaemin walked away.
>>
Fuck whatever poetics Jeno had waxed about adulting. Adulting sucked, especially when it was a Monday morning in February, the cold biting at the tips of his toes, his head throbbing while his phone would not stop pathetically buzzing at him to wake up.
No, Jeno did not wear socks, even though it would probably stop the frostbite from taking away his toes. Truly blasphemous act, that. Cats would go extinct before he would ever wear socks to bed. That being said, if cats ever went extinct, Jeno would be the first to cease existing, because what was the point of life without cats?
Shivering in the bundle of his blankets, he blindly flung his arm out to shut his alarm off, desperate for the noise to stop. Groaning, he curled in on himself, clinging to the last dregs of warmth emanating from the blanket, the cool air from his slightly cracked window seeping in and enveloping the room in a sharp chill.
Why the fuck hadn’t he shut his window the previous night?
Grumbling to himself, he unravelled himself from the comforting swathe of blankets with great reluctance, yelping as his toes touched the cold tiles as he hopped his way to the bathroom. He cursed when he glanced at the clock in his room, rushing to grab a t-shirt and a decent pair of boxers from his wardrobe, smelling them to make sure it was socially acceptable to be wearing them.
Time is power is money, you see, and Jeno had bills to pay. He had to show up for work, unrealistic as it was that a person should be able to function before eleven in the morning.
His work bag sat innocuously on his kitchen table chair, and he mentally thanked himself for deeming it prudent to pack the previous night before he had started bingeing the new drama that Renjun had been taking his ear off about. Quickly grabbing a bottle of yogurt shake from the fridge and a steamed bun that he reheated while pulling on his socks, Jeno left his apartment just in time to catch the bus to CultureTech (well, that was soon to be changed, he mused. He wondered what the new name would be-)
Wait.
Shit. New name. Merger. Jaemin.
Jeno physically stopped himself from banging his head against the metallic chill of the bus wall, grimacing colourfully under his face mask instead.
How could he have forgotten?
Today was the day he had to put his (frankly non-existent) acting skills to good use, pretending that he didn’t know about the map of moles that dotted Jaemin’s back or the meaning behind every little quirk of his lips.
Perfect strangers, was what they had decided on. Distant. If anyone asked, they had seen each other in college a few times in passing, but nothing more. None of the once-in-a-lifetime love, not a word about the freezing feet pressed against each other as they swaddled under a fleece blanket during the winter to preserve warmth when the power had been cut, nothing about their carefully learnt language of touches and squeezes that each meant something different, but always meant I love you.
Jeno hated it, and he was pretty sure Jaemin hated it too, but it was easier this way. No pitying glances, no sympathetic pats on backs, no teasing, no complications if they ever decided to start again.
Well, the last one was Jeno’s own addition, for obvious reasons. He didn’t know what page Jaemin was on, because they hadn’t read each other’s books for well over five chapters, but he allowed himself to harbour a small flame of hope, maybe foolishly. He had helped write the most important twenty of the chapters, painstakingly dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s and pressing chaste kisses to the corner of each page, and he hoped that it meant something, to be the co-author of more than half of someone’s life.
Either way. It was simpler, to pretend to know nothing but feel everything, to pretend to see nothing but notice everything.
Jeno squeezed his eyes shut as the bus rumbled on, gritting his teeth and preparing himself for the onslaught of emotions that the day would no doubt incite. First was the joint meeting with his manager and the Marketing team to decide on the basics, and then was the division of labour that he and Jaemin would have to oversee, and then was some more corporate bullshit (an HR seminar after lunch to help “accommodate the new hires”, which was prime ‘sleeping with your eyes closed’ time, an art that Jeno was the fucking master of), and then was time for actual productivity before he got off work to trod back to his empty house that his cat had still not returned to.
It would be a miracle if he didn’t feel the urge to break down at least four times today, to be honest.
The bus screeched to a halt, and Jeno placidly observed a young father carry his toddler up the steps and coerce a high school kid out of his window seat. Was the main benefit of parenting the free seats in public transport and the easy excuses out of company mandated socialising events?
Ah, Jeno-yah, it’s the companionship when you’re old and the joy of bringing new life into the world and nurturing it, Jaemin’s voice echoed in his head, warm and sticky.
Jeno blinked.
No, scratch that, it was definitely the free seats in public transport. Jeno eyed the man cuddling his child as he comfortably sat on the plush seat with disdain. Free seats, and a portable heater. Jeno’s weak knees protested as he gripped the rod tighter, his toes still cold under his socks and Adidas sneakers.
Maybe he should invest in children. Unbidden, Jaemin’s softened eyes and baby voice flashed to the front of his mind, and it was a miracle that Jeno didn’t fall to the floor sobbing at the purely wholesome picture painted before him. Raising children with Jaemin would be the greatest blessing he would ever be bestowed with, if he weren’t living in some fantasy world where it was okay to still be in love with your ex? best friend? after five years of radio silence and have the audacity to dream of having kids with them.
God, he was so stupid.
(Stupid for Jaemin.)
Jeno shuddered at the sheer magnitude of cringey words in his head. Disgusting.
Jeno thanked all his stars when the bus finally stopped in front of the stop closest to his office, hightailing it down the steps before the stupid father and his stupidly adorable kid could even stand up. At least work would occupy his brain now, put a pause on domestic fantasies and daydreams that would always be frustratingly out of reach.
But work meant prolonged interaction with Jaemin, and that meant hearing his sexy focussed work voice and trying to keep it in his pants, all while trying to pretend that he didn’t even know of his existence.
Jeno stopped in front of the revolving door, wondering how badly his boss would fire him if he just didn’t show up today (or forever) and took up working at some convenience store instead. He had saved up enough money, hadn’t he? And he could always steal food from the store to eat during lunch. It was feasible, wasn’t it?
“Jeno!” he heard someone behind him, and he turned around in surprise when he registered that it had been Jaemin. Think of the damn devil.
“Jaem?” Jeno tilted his head, waiting till Jaemin made his way to where he was standing in front of the building, dressed immaculately in his pressed dotted blue shirt and pants. Fucking hell. This entire project was going to be the most difficult test of self-restraint Jeno would have to endure.
“Good morning,” Jaemin sounded breathless, but anticipatory. “Excited?”
“Excited for what?” Jeno grumbled as he pushed back the door, waiting for a second so Jaemin could step in as well.
“Hey,” Jaemin shoved his shoulder - and okay, he seemed to have taken Jeno’s invitation to “Act normally as if nothing has changed, Jaemin” very seriously. That was great, sure - less awkward, certainly - but Jeno wasn’t sure if his brain would know the difference between now and then. That was a problem, a pressing one at that, but fuck that. It was too early to problem-solve.
“What?” Jeno shook his head minutely, “Sorry, I zoned out there for a sec.”
Jaemin snorted. “Good to know nothing’s actually changed, then.” He slung a casual arm around Jeno as they entered the elevator, looking at him to press the correct floor number before turning to him in sudden solemnity. “Jeno, we’re good, right?”
Jeno shoved him while rolling his eyes. “We’re very good, Jaem. So good, in fact, that no one’s going to believe that we don’t know each other.” He looked pointedly at Jaemin’s hand around his shoulder. Jaemin retracted it with a sheepish smile, and Jeno snorted. “What were you saying before?”
“Huh?” Jaemin squinted his eyes, “Oh, yeah - you should be excited to work, Jeno!”
“Never bend down to the capitalists, Jaemin,” Jeno said right as the elevator dinged, and he raised his hand in a short wave before weaving his way through desks to reach his own. He could feel Jaemin rolling his eyes at him at his back, and he pressed down a chuckle as he sat down.
“Good weekend?” Renjun’s head popped into his cubicle, a small tuft of hair sticking up at the top of his head.
“Sure,” Jeno shrugged. “We’re starting the new project today, so you better not fall asleep during Intro,” he narrowed his eyes, and Renjun smirked.
“No promises, darling!” he called out over his back, before turning around and winking a “I hear the Marketing head is hot!”
Jeno grimaced.
This was going to be fun.
Not.