Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

XIV.

Jeno is unhappy, until he isn’t.

Destiny has never been fair to him, thus Jeno should have suspected that his attempts at having a normal life would fail. Destiny has always laughed at him, in his face, since the moment it decided to put Jaemin in his life.

“It’s you or no one,” Jaemin says, voice broken and devastated. “It’s not- I’m not lying, I’m not pressuring. I don’t mind being alone. With you or alone, Jeno.”

Jeno shouldn’t have come back home with Jaemin. It brought too many memories for the both of them. But he did, and now he watches as Jaemin looks outside his window, back facing the inside of Jeno’s room.

Jeno’s room hasn’t changed since he left; in fact, it hasn’t changed since Jeno was fifteen, because he wanted it to become a bubble in time. There are sparkling stickers of moons and stars everywhere, hanging off the ceiling, and they shine in the darkness as much as the real moon and stars do. Their light falls on Jaemin’s hair, on the curve of his exposed back, and hypnotizes Jeno.

Jaemin used to tell him that, in Jeno’s room, he felt that they would never age. It’s funny that they’re here together again, looking like men instead of children at last. Jeno doesn’t fit in his bed anymore, and Jaemin’s head brushes against the hanging stars when he moves.

With you or alone, Jeno wants to agree. Jaemin is the love of his life. Of this life and the next one and the next one, every single life, no matter how many lives Jeno experiences as a witch.

But Jeno can’t lie: there’s Yukhei. And if Jaemin says another word, he will sabotage them, because a simple word from Jaemin can haul Jeno through mud and blood and the most extreme pain.

Jaemin slants to his side, enough to stare at Jeno, who is curled up in bed. His side profile is the most beautiful thing Jeno has ever seen. “I love you,” Jaemin whispers.

This is the story of how Na Jaemin ruined Jeno’s life for the last time.

I.

It’s all about the timing.

Donghyuck bends towards him, a smirk on his lips, and says, “You should give him a chance.”

All in all, Jeno hasn’t been too discreet while he observed Yukhei. They’re playing darts by shifts, and the moment Jeno refused to join them, Yukhei didn’t hesitate to drag him all the way to the dartboard and put a dart in his hand. Jeno laughed it off, surrendering, but after a few rounds he has managed to move back and fuse himself with the wall. Not in a literal way, even if he could have camouflaged himself with a simple snap of his fingers.

He has been staring at Yukhei since then, a smile on his lips as Yukhei screams, protests and laughs. Donghyuck catches on fast, however, and accompanies him in his adventure against the wall.

Donghyuck’s proposal isn’t new, for Jeno has already considered it before. Jeno likes Donghyuck’s friends; moreover, he’s grateful for them. Having Jaemin as the center of his life, when Jaemin doesn’t love Jeno back but he looks at him like he wishes he could love him, is asphyxiating.

Jeno lifts his eyebrows, playing hard, “A chance at what?”

A punch lands on Jeno’s arm, but Donghyuck ignores that hitting a witch can hurt him more than the target, and therefore ends up whistling between his teeth.

He shakes his hand, pitiful, and assures, “Yukhei doesn’t get interested in anyone that easily, you know?” Donghyuck continues, ignoring Jeno’s laugh. “His attention is flicker. He doesn’t have enough of it to stop and realize who is around him, but sometimes he finds a hole in his surroundings and he has to fix the problem.”

“Are you calling me a hole?”

“You are the hole, yes,” Donghyuck confirms, a mischievous smile extending on his face. “Yukhei’s life is all noise. When you’re in it, you’re so silent that you’re like an abysm. A hole. Then he notices.”

It’s hard to ignore the fact that Donghyuck is describing him as a hole, because Jeno wants to tell him that he’s ridiculous. If anything, Jeno has trained his skills to go unnoticed, not to be the dissonant element that stands out. To some extent, it attracts a certain sort of people, Jeno supposes: Jaemin, since the beginning, because he was the first one to approach him when they were kids. And now Yukhei. Jeno can’t tell what the common point is.

Still, Donghyuck’s choice of words is unusual, and Jeno can’t help but point out, “You read the poetry book I gave you, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I read it to Renjun, actually,” Donghyuck admits right away, not even a bit ashamed of it. Jeno can imagine them lying down in bed while Donghyuck recites the book, and he can imagine Renjun biting down on his lips every time Donghyuck recites at the wrong pace. “He loved it.”

Jeno makes a face. “You two are vomit inducing.”

“Thank you,” Donghyuck beams at him, as though that’s his best achievement up to date. Maybe it is. Handling Renjun is quite difficult.

Donghyuck’s proposal or not, Jeno made his decision a while back. From the moment Jaemin kissed him, Jeno became aware that he couldn’t let Jaemin into his head that way. He already was in his heart, but they had never crossed the physical limit, and it had taken Jeno two seconds to realize that it was too dangerous. Jaemin is dangerous, and Jeno’s legs are fast to bring him far away from the danger.

II.

The first thing Jeno learns in university is that outer appearances are misleading.

Everyone thinks that because Jeno is quiet, he’s weak. That he’s shy, unable to take care of himself, unable to go further in life. When Renjun comes into the picture, Jeno feels understood. Witches aren’t weak, and all of them know.

Outer appearances are misleading because everyone thinks that Jaemin is strong thanks to his self-confidence. Jeno knows better. Jaemin is fragile. Not weak, but fragile. He breaks with the strength of a delicate breeze and recomposes himself once and once again.

Until he decides to kiss Jeno, pushing him against the study table and tasting Jeno’s mouth with a tenderness that is foreign to both of them. Then, Jaemin doesn’t manage to recompose himself.

Witches aren’t weak, but Jeno’s weakness is Jaemin. Jeno has lived during all these years without his romantic love, and he’s positive that he can move on – he’s going to love Jaemin forever, but he can love other boys too, can build a life apart from him. The problem is that when Jaemin breaks down, Jeno can’t look away from him. The only person in his vision is Jaemin. Jaemin glaring at Yukhei across the table just because he addressed Jeno, Jaemin holding onto his waist with desperate, possessive fingers sinking in his belt; Jaemin being terribly silent while they walk back to the dorms, refusing to express himself and tell Jeno what’s wrong.

That night, Jeno kisses Jaemin in the elevator because Jaemin looks broken, and Jeno wants to put all his pieces together. However, Jaemin breaks into smaller pieces.

III.

It’s a matter of time that their secrets get exposed.

Somehow, it’s karma, because Jeno shouldn’t be able to get away with kissing his best friend after warning him to stop playing with his heart. Tables have turned, and Jeno holds all the power, because he decides when he can kiss Jaemin, if he can kiss Jaemin. If Jaemin takes the step, it will be considered sabotaging, but it’s fine if it’s Jeno. He has Jaemin in a cage.

Renjun hates the news. Jeno should have supposed this would happen, yet he’s still surprised when Renjun jumps on him two weeks after his second kiss with Jaemin. To be fair, Renjun doesn’t even reside in their building, which means that he has woken up at seven in the morning just to grab Jeno by the back of his shirt and interrupt his breakfast. Jeno doesn’t fight back as Renjun hauls him outside the lunch room, because he’s aware that Renjun doesn’t have any inconvenient with making a scene in public if necessary, and Jeno hates drawing attention to himself. Plus, it’s never a good idea to anger a boy like Renjun.

Renjun corners him in the game room, which at this time is completely empty – during weekends there might be people that stayed the whole night up and are still fooling around there, but it’s Tuesday. Jeno could surrender right away, but he doesn’t, standing firm as Renjun pushes him against the back of one of the sofas.

Renjun holds his neck so that Jeno can’t divert his gaze, and grunts, “Why in the world did you give Jaemin an ultimatum?”

To be honest, Jaemin could have confided in one of his classmates instead of resorting to Renjun. But Jeno reckons that the topic is too serious for him to spread it around, and Renjun is the only person they can trust.

Jeno answers a simple, soulless, “I’m forgetting him.”

He isn’t. And Renjun doesn’t need to point that out, since Jeno has explicitly confessed that he has feelings for Jaemin not long ago. In fact, a part of Jeno suspects that Donghyuck and Renjun are setting him up with Yukhei in an attempt to help him move forward. Renjun seems to regret it, however, and Jeno can’t blame him. Involving one of their friends into the mess that Jaemin and Jeno have created for themselves is a disgrace, yet Renjun must have believed him when Jeno assured that he liked Yukhei enough to turn the page. God, he likes Yukhei. But he can see the fear in Renjun’s eyes, in how he has realized that’s not going to be enough.

“You can’t fool me. He told me you kissed him,” Renjun reproaches.

Jeno didn’t expect Jaemin to reveal that, so he shoots back, “A kiss is just a kiss.”

It sounds ridiculous even to his own ears. A kiss is just a kiss when you’re not kissing the boy you have loved for years. Kissing Jaemin means the world to him, as pathetic and sad as it is. 

“Jeno,” Renjun calls him. He loosens up, realizing that Jeno isn’t being an asshole on purpose, just as a defense mechanism. Renjun has always given him good advice, but following it is pretty difficult if Jeno’s heart wants to do the opposite. “Both of you are hurting.”

“So? What’s new?”

Renjun frowns at him, disapproving yet with a glint of pity. “For fuck’s sake, why is your skin so thick?”

Jeno has grown used to this, to being hurt. With time Jeno has learned to cohabit with the pain of knowing that Jaemin will never love him back, at least until Jaemin kissed him. Jeno should have pushed him away, because it was like having a taste of everything Jeno has ever wanted, but he hadn’t, and the consequences are pouring on him with the force of a hundred cascades.

“Listen. He was playing in the shadows,” Jeno defenses himself, and Renjun looks skeptical at his choice of words.  “So I told him that if he tried to play with me again, it would be over. And he accepted, but had to kiss me before letting me go. He destroyed himself with that, and do you think I’m heartless? Do you think I just made my feelings evaporate?”

That shuts Renjun up, for he backs away with a sigh. It doesn’t convince him, however, and he still stares at Jeno with an expression full of judgment.

Jeno sighs along. “Plus, a kiss for a kiss. It’s just fair.”

Unbelievable, Renjun mouths as he shakes his head. His tenacity disappears, maybe because he understands Jeno, or because he can’t take sides since both of his friends are acting like madmen. Neither Jaemin nor Jeno are being very considerate of each other.

“This is why I don’t date other witches. You all are fucked up in the head,” Renjun remarks, very certain of his own statement.

It’s not the first time Jeno hears that. While he hasn’t had an extensive love life, Jaemin has confronted several situations in which he was called a witch in a derogative way after breaking a relationship. They laughed about it together every time, and Jeno doesn’t remember when it stopped. Why do they think it’s a bad thing? Jaemin used to say. Jeno always wanted to tell him that there wasn’t wrong with him, in him.

“If you’re going to let Jaemin go, then do it, yeah?” Renjun continues, careful, analyzing Jeno’s silence as though he fears that he’s about to explode. Jeno is calm though, because he’s aware of what he’s doing wrong and why, and why he can’t stop it. Renjun must read the truth in his face, because he whispers a desperate, “Don’t pull him back.”

IV.

Jeno pulls him back. A few times.

It’s not on purpose. Jeno has promised himself that his chances with Jaemin are nonexistent, that they have enjoyed two kisses and, since Jaemin isn’t taking action, it means that he doesn’t want to go beyond that.

His determination is short-lived, but before Jeno falls into his own trap, there are distractions that prevent him from thinking about Jaemin. Yukhei is the main one. One afternoon after having lunch at Donghyuck’s building, Yukhei accompanies him to a café, and right when Jeno drinks the last sip of his coffee, Yukhei asks him on a date.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Yukhei assures him, mildly scared at how long Jeno is taking to answer. “No hard feelings.”

But Jeno says yes. It’s not an impulsive decision: he sits in front of Yukhei for a couple of minutes, gazing at his wide, expectative eyes, and catches a glimpse of what their future could be like. It’s a comforting future; maybe not exciting, but Jeno shouldn’t live off of the rush of adrenaline.

They don’t have the opportunity to be discreet about their date. Yukhei tells Donghyuck before Jeno can warn him not to involve others. It’s done from a naïve place, and Jeno doesn’t hold it against him, because later he realizes that this is saving him from the pain of telling Jaemin himself. News spread, Jaemin knows, Jeno doesn’t have to justify his decision. For their friendship, Jeno still tells Jaemin as casually as possible, and Jaemin fakes his smile as best as he can.

For their first date, Yukhei brings him to a play that one of his friends is collaborating in. It’s a low cost place with random, cheap chairs for the audience, and they sit in the back. The play is good, Yukhei’s comments – sometimes funny, sometimes intriguing – are better, and Yukhei’s hand slipping into his in the middle of the play is the pinnacle. After the play, Yukhei introduces him to his other friends, and all of them have heard about Jeno. Yukhei isn’t a man of secrets; humans aren’t, in general, but secrets are a vital part of a witch. They don’t stay with Yukhei’s friends, since they prefer to spend the evening alone and they wind up in a simple, traditional restaurant. Jeno already knows that Yukhei, beneath his loudness, is an intelligent creature, but the private dinner confirms it. Jeno is comfortable with that, and when they part ways, both of them agree that it was great, that they would love to do this again.

It isn’t until later, when Jeno enters the elevator completely alone, that he notices the fault in their date. Yukhei’s hand is way bigger than Jeno’s, so they don’t fit perfectly when they hold hands, and Jeno’s hand is drowned in an asphyxiating warmness. It’s too overwhelming. Jaemin’s hand has always been a wonderful fit. Yukhei’s eyes are pretty, but they don’t stare at Jeno like he’s the only person in the world – Jaemin’s eyes do. Yukhei smiles all the time, a smile that shows the most childish part of him. Jaemin smiles are rare, for his semblance carries a serious, harsh air, but when Jaemin smiles at Jeno, he makes flowers bloom in Jeno’s stomach.

When the elevator halts, Jeno notices that he has reached the wrong floor. His fingers have pushed the wrong buttons, and despite being conscious that he should let the doors close and hide himself in the back of the elevator, away from the temptation, he steps into the hall.

Jaemin is wearing only his pajama trousers when he responds his call. Upon recognizing Jeno, his confusion is so sincere that it’s adorable, but the trail of relief as Jeno cups his face is heart-wrenching in a marvelous way. Kissing Jaemin for the third time feels like drinking water after crossing a desert. And Jeno is too thirsty, too enthusiastic, and never wants to set foot in the desert again.

Daylight brings Jeno’s logic back, and a new found pain: Jaemin’s excellent skills at pretending that there’s nothing between them, that they didn’t kiss last night, that Jaemin didn’t smile against his lips. Yet Jeno is great at pretending too, and ignoring his mistakes is easier than fixing them.

“I want to see your tricks,” Yukhei tells him on the second date, a grin brightening his expression. “Renjun always tells me to shut up and stop bothering him.”

They’re sitting by the edge of the river, a river that is just four miles away from the campus. It’s flanked by fake sand, and people bring their blankets for comfort, which is exactly what Yukhei has done. He only brought one blanket for them to cover up, however, and at night it becomes so chill that they have to share the blanket, pressed against each other. It’s a beautiful place, a beautiful moment, and beautiful company.

“You want to see a trick?” Jeno repeats, not believing that Yukhei is requesting this as though Jeno was a regular magician.

Yukhei nods, excited, and Jeno is torn between reprimanding him or complying. Unlike Renjun, Jeno never shows off. It draws unwanted attention, but the most important reason is that not everyone accepts them like Yukhei does. Perhaps Yukhei needs a lesson, Jeno realizes.

Under Yukhei’s vigilance, Jeno holds up his fist, firmly closed but calm, and then extends his fingers like a flower opening up in the morning. When his palm is exposed, Yukhei’s head immediately shoots back, and Jeno reaches out so that he doesn’t fall – the blanket aids him, preventing Yukhei’s whole body from collapsing. Jeno observes him for a second, trying not to laugh at the frozen expression in Yukhei’s face, and then he wraps his fingers into a fist, returning to the original position.

Yukhei recovers his autonomy, opens his eyes and his mouth as though he’s lacking oxygen. He’s not scared though, but fascinated, and glances at Jeno with a faint blush on his cheeks. “What the fuck was that?”

“I stunned you,” Jeno explains, satisfied with the results. His mother used to forbid him to make use of this sort of magic, so Jeno didn’t have many chances to practice it. And since he doesn’t fight anyone, it can only be performed on voluntary persons. Like Yukhei. “It only works on humans.”

“That’s so-” Yukhei begins, gasping for air. “Fitting. You, stunning.”

Luckily for Jeno, it’s too dark for Yukhei to notice that he’s concealing a red tint on his cheeks as well. Even if Yukhei’s compliment – the bad yet not intended flirting – makes him nervous, Jeno can’t affirm that it stirs something within. Somehow, Jeno suspects that his embarrassment comes from the fact that Yukhei is impressed at his skills, but that he’d be equally please if the praise came from another person.

“Wow, Renjun only does cute tricks.”

Jeno shrugs, a small laugh escaping through his teeth, “I don’t have cute tricks.”

“Just dangerous tricks?” Yukhei asks, serious. For the sake of playing with his gullible mind, Jeno nods, and Yukhei believes him. “You’re full of surprises.”

That night, tucked in bed, Jeno can’t stop thinking about Jaemin. Jaemin’s best tricks are intimate. When they were ten years old, Jaemin began using one of his tricks on Jeno every time they were alone – he would hover his fingers over Jeno’s arms, back, neck, never touching him, but his magic made Jeno feel the ghost of a touch. Sometimes Jaemin used it when he thought Jeno was asleep. Sometimes he claimed that he was using the trick, but he was touching Jeno with his fingertips, a little kid and his little mischief. Jeno always let him. When they were thirteen, Jaemin stretched that trick to his lips. He hovered over Jeno’s neck, over his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and Jeno could feel the ghost of a kiss landing on his skin; he gasped every time, but he never felt embarrassed. It was something they weren’t supposed to do, and both of them were aware of it. That was why they startled if they heard their moms walking up the stairs to look for them, or why both of them sported an innocent, comfortable blush on their faces afterwards.

Yukhei might think Jeno is full of surprises, but the biggest surprise that Jeno holds is that he kisses Jaemin after his fifth date with Yukhei. It’s a completely conscious decision this time. Jeno runs to Jaemin because it’s the last time, because he likes Yukhei and Yukhei likes him, and when they say goodbye at the end of the date, Jeno can see the hesitation in Yukhei’s eyes. Jeno steps back before Yukhei can conclude that it’s time to kiss him, and Yukhei assumes that Jeno is oblivious of his intentions. But Yukhei is right. It’s time. Jeno wants to kiss him too.

Jaemin is alone at the dorm that night, and Jeno loses any shame that he has ever experienced. He loses awareness of what he’s doing too, but he knows that it feels right, wonderful, to let himself fall in Jaemin’s arms without any doubt. And Jaemin might not love him, but he grabs and touches like he isn’t disposed to let Jeno go; Jeno wishes that he wouldn’t. After all, the ultimatum remains alive, and as Jeno falls asleep in Jaemin’s embrace, he figures out that Jaemin will never risk their friendship, that Jeno will have to scream at him and tear him apart for him to take action. Perhaps it’s not worth the pain, perhaps they’re wasting their time and feelings on each other.

It’s their last kiss for a reason.

V.

Jeno crosses the line well aware of what he’s doing, but the moment he does, the circle closes with a click.

Then the calm arrives. And even if humans have a saying about an upcoming storm, Jeno doesn’t believe in it. His relationship with Yukhei progresses step by step, and when they reach the final step, Jeno doesn’t hesitate to accept Yukhei into his life. It’s the cue for Jaemin not to hope anymore, and for Jeno himself not to seek for someone that won’t ever give him what he needs.

Kissing Yukhei for the first time turns out to be eye-opening. Jeno realizes this is how first kisses are supposed to be: clumsy and careful, because they have never done this together, because it takes a few kisses to get the gist of each other. With Jaemin it felt too perfect, as though they had kissed a thousand times and were familiar with every inch of each other’s mouth. Jeno doesn’t know what that was.

Sure, Yukhei isn’t Jaemin, but that’s the key of it. Jeno likes Yukhei for who he is, and comparing him to Jaemin is unfair to the three of them.

Their friends’ reactions are rich and varied. Even though Renjun doesn’t express it out loud, it’s evident that he expected Jeno to back out sooner or later, not to jump into the pool and soak himself. On the other hand, Donghyuck looks even happier than them. Mark remains terribly silent, with an awkward smile on his face, and Jeno can’t figure out his position.

Mark’s reaction is nothing compared to Jaemin’s reaction. It’s not bad, but it’s negative, and when Jeno tells Jaemin, Jaemin has already been informed of the news. It doesn’t take a genius to presume that Renjun was the one to break it for him – Jeno prefers it this way, prefers giving Jaemin time to prepare himself. Neither Jeno nor Jaemin are ready to go through such a confrontation.

“Congratulations,” is all Jaemin says at first. They’re standing outside a bar, waiting for their friends as they pay the bill. Yukhei isn’t there tonight, and if he was, Jeno wouldn’t have had to explain their relationship with words. Jaemin would have hated it, perhaps would have never forgiven Jeno for it. “I’m happy for you.”

Jaemin doesn’t even look at him. He stares at one of the cars parked nearby, shoving his hands into his pockets, and Jeno wonders when they have reached this point, a point in which Jaemin isn’t making an effort to pretend.

And after all, Jeno understands what Jaemin means. He’s happy for him, but not for himself. Jeno is very familiar with that emotion, for he experienced it during years. It’s just that tables have turned.

VI.

Jaemin’s coldness doesn’t last.

Habits are stronger than momentary irritation, and therefore Jaemin adjusts to their new life. Even though they don’t talk about it, their body language is enough. Jeno makes sure to reserve some nights for Jaemin only, and Jaemin embraces him in his arms like nothing happened, like Jeno hasn’t finally replaced him with someone else.

Sometimes, when they’re alone, Jeno still feels like there’s no one else in his life. It’s Jaemin and Jeno, Jeno and Jaemin, as it has always been.

Jeno pushes his buttons, but he’s careful about it. They have to move forward, they can’t be stuck in this place where they ignore that Yukhei exists and that Jaemin has lost his chance. The first time Jeno talks about Yukhei like any normal person would talk about his boyfriend, Jaemin is petrified. And they’re in bed, Jeno’s head on his chest, and he can hear his heartbeats growing faster and faster.

It improves. Jeno watches Jaemin mature before his eyes, learning to control his emotions and feelings, and holding back his impulsive ideas. He doesn’t focus on Jeno that much on anymore, and as time passes by, Jaemin forms an endearing bond with Mark. Jeno doesn’t know what opinion to have about it, fears how that could end up, but it’s none of his business.

The shift is striking. What bothers Jeno is that when Mark touches Jaemin too much, when Jaemin jokes about kissing him, when they begin having their own inside jokes, Renjun always glances at Jeno for a second. And the fact that Jeno knows the reason why Renjun behaves that way is proof enough of how aware Jeno is of his own feelings. Renjun was the first one to break into their lives, thus he has witnessed every single moment of progress and the hundred times they stepped backward.

Unlike the rest, Yukhei is oblivious, but not as oblivious as Jeno supposes. It’s odd that he has never asked about Jaemin. Everyone has asked, from their childhood teachers to their new classmates, even their parents when they were teenagers, and Jeno believes that Yukhei is too smart not to have noticed.

Jeno’s suspicions are confirmed one week before Yukhei’s birthday. He’s dragging Yukhei across the mall, trying to get information out of him while Yukhei jokes about all the things he doesn’t like. Buying gifts isn’t Jeno’s forte, and Yukhei is determined to torture Jeno by letting him go insane over the gift.

“I can’t tell you what I want,” Yukhei defends himself once they’re inside the car, going back to the dorms. Even though Yukhei is driving and he doesn’t look at him, Jeno catches the hint of a lopsided smile. “That defeats the whole point, doesn’t it? And I’m not hard to please.”

“That’s not enough,” Jeno protests. He leans back on the seat, observing Yukhei’s profile. “If someone gives you a better gift, I’m going to riot.”

“Where is this competitive strike coming from?” Yukhei laughs. “What are you trying to prove?”

A huge silence installs between them, though it’s not on purpose. Yukhei isn’t asking with malice, with second intentions, but Jeno processes the question in a different way. The silence is innocent at first, yet as Jeno is incapable of coming up with a reply, the silence becomes asphyxiating.

Jeno wasn’t aware of this either. He assumed that his will of giving Yukhei the best gift was natural, that it didn’t hide any other causes. A perfect day with Yukhei is ruined this fast, with the realization that Jeno wants to prove to Jaemin that he loves Yukhei, or that he can live without him. This shouldn’t be about Jaemin. Why is everything about Jaemin? This is Yukhei’s birthday, their relationship, and Jeno should give him the best gift to make Yukhei happy.

“Is Jaemin coming to the party?” Yukhei asks then, and when Jeno checks his expression, he’s far from happy. Still, he doesn’t look angry, only mildly scared of what’s happening. Scared of admitting out loud what both of them have realized.

Jeno clears his throat, “Did you invite him?”

“Yeah,” Yukhei answers, a trail of incredulity in his voice. Why wouldn’t he? Jaemin and he share the same group of friends, appreciate each other – or at least they did before Jeno decided to choose one of them so drastically. “But he doesn’t talk to me that much anymore. He’s a bit overprotective of you, isn’t he?”

Overprotective.

The thing is, Jaemin doesn’t have any right to do this, to treat Yukhei like he stole his sweets. But it’s Jeno’s fault too, for putting the taste in his mouth and then run away, and for expecting Yukhei to turn a blind eye to the obvious hints.

Avoidance is a strategy with clear holes, yet Jeno can’t confess that he has kissed Jaemin four times and that he only stopped because his relationship with Yukhei became serious. Without Yukhei, Jeno might have fallen deeper into the hole he was digging.

“We’re like family,” Jeno answers after a while. It’s not a lie per se. Jaemin and his parents have been like family for Jeno, if he ignores his never-ending crush on him and the way Jaemin slid his hands under his shirt a few weeks ago. Because it’s partially true, Yukhei believes him, and Jeno is relieved when the tension wears off. “And I’ve never dated anyone, so he doesn’t know how to act towards you.”

That distracts Yukhei, who takes his eyes off the road and glances at Jeno in surprise. “No one?” he pries.

“No one.” Jeno isn’t ashamed of it. It’s normal considering Jaemin never returned his feelings and Jeno was fixed on him. Jeno observes, “You like that.”

It’s pretty funny, because Yukhei avoids gazing at him, but the smirk on his lips betrays him. “It just suits you. You have this unattainable aura.”

“Stop smiling,” Jeno complains, and instead of achieving that, it makes Yukhei burst into laughter.

Jeno should have learned by now that Yukhei loves teasing him, especially when he responds so embarrassed. At Jeno’s order, Yukhei obeys and presses his lips together in a bad attempt to hide his smile, but when he opens his mouth again, it’s irremediable that the corners of his lips curl up.

“I was your first kiss?” Yukhei says, half question, half affirmation.

“You weren’t!” Jeno slaps Yukhei’s forearm. The question induces a strange trembling in Jeno’s insides. His first kiss was Jaemin. And it could have been Yukhei, because Jeno didn’t have any intentions of kissing Jaemin before or after the ultimatum. “Stop.”

Yukhei doesn’t stop, yet his tone becomes quite alluring as he continues, “Damn, unattainable Jeno goes around kissing boys that he doesn’t date?”

It’s just a joke, and Jeno would have loved it in any other moment. Yukhei’s humor is right his type, but his mind is vulnerable and keeps bending to leave a small space for Jaemin when it should be full of Yukhei. Yet Jeno forces a smile, because at least Yukhei has momentarily forgotten Jaemin and his blatant envy, even if it’s just because of an ego matter to have Jeno first, to be his first boyfriend.

VII.

Renjun whispers, “I have a theory.”

The problem with Renjun’s theories is that they turn out to be reality most of the time. Jeno is scared of them, because Renjun looks at everyone like he can decipher all their secrets, and Jeno isn’t less of a victim of his. For starters, Renjun doesn’t know how to mind his own business. Secondly, he’s between Jeno and Jaemin all the time, the strongest connection they have, and he doesn’t have any reservations when he has to reprimand them for their behavior towards each other.

“A theory I don’t want to hear, perhaps?” Jeno shoots back, pretending to be uninterested.

Donghyuck is just a few steps away from them, trying jeans in a fitting room; he hasn’t even bothered to close the curtain, so both Renjun and Jeno are observing how he jumps into a pair of jeans that are clearly too tight for him. Jeno expected that to be enough of a distraction for Renjun, but Renjun is too clever, plus he must be used to Donghyuck changing clothes in front of him. Jeno has no escape. They didn’t come here to accompany Donghyuck while he checks out outfits – the main objective was that all of them bought something for Yukhei’s birthday – but Donghyuck’s sweet talk does wonders.

“You and Jaemin are hiding something from me,” Renjun assures Jeno with an exasperated expression. “Do I look like a fool to you?”

Jeno is sure that Jaemin didn’t snitch on him, on them, so at least he has that advantage on Renjun. Renjun can have a thousand theories, but he will need confirmation. That’s why Jeno opts for being silent, nodding as Donghyuck throws him a questioning look like asking do I look good in this?

“Those are amazing, babe,” Renjun agrees. As soon as Donghyuck looks satisfied with the compliment, Renjun turns his dark eyes towards Jeno and accuses him, “You did more than kissing.”

The fact that it’s a statement, that Renjun is firm on believing so, makes Jeno’s cheeks flush red. Making out with Jaemin was already an out of body experience, and if they had done more than that, the current situation would be way different. Jeno would have fled the country. “No!”

Renjun squints at him, mistrustful. “Okay, then it happened a lot of times,” he tries. Jeno makes a face, indignant at how fast Renjun has uncovered their secret, and Renjun flashes a blinding smile at him. “Bingo.”

Keeping a secret is hard, but plausible; what isn’t plausible is to lie to Renjun, so Jeno isn’t going to deny it. Details aren’t necessary anyhow, thus Renjun won’t know that it was Jeno who initiated the last three kisses.

“I didn’t cheat on Yukhei,” Jeno clarifies then, worried that Renjun might misinterpret him. Renjun licks his lips, closes his eyes, accepting, as though he’s making the last effort to believe that. Jeno adds, “We stopped.”

“Did you want to stop?” Renjun taps his fingers on the edge of the fitting room, and Donghyuck turns around with a concerned expression, sensing they’re not having a casual talk. “Or did you need to stop?”

It’s the million dollar question. Jeno’s throat is dry as he pleads, “Shit, Renjun, don’t do this.”

Friends are supposed to protect you, but sometimes they have to drag you through the mud to give you a lesson. And that’s what Renjun is doing: displaying the cards on the table, telling Jeno that he chose the wrong cards and that he’s skipping the rules of the game.

“I don’t want Yukhei to fall in love with you,” Renjun spats at him, and Donghyuck’s jaw falls open. Donghyuck is a key piece of what Renjun is planning, because after all, it was him who cheered Jeno to go for Yukhei, and it’s him who introduced the whole group. Considering the way Renjun avoids Donghyuck’s shocked expression, they have discussed this topic, Jaemin and Jeno, Jeno and Yukhei, and Donghyuck isn’t conform with Renjun’s meddling. “You’ll hurt him.”

For Jeno it’s not that serious. They’re two young boys getting to know each other, even if tongues and hands are involved in the process, and he doesn’t understand why Renjun is so nervous about it.

“Who says he’s going to fall in love?” Jeno refutes. No one has ever fallen for him, even if it’s because Jeno hasn’t let anyone in, and it could stay that way.

“We are what we are, Jeno.” Renjun is sharp, not caring that Donghyuck is staring at him with begging eyes. He doesn’t say the word, but the three of them know that Renjun means Witches. Perhaps Donghyuck ignores what that implies, but Jeno is conscious of it, of his own power over people. “They fall for us much more easily than we fall for them. Now you just like each other and you could go back to being friends, but one day it will be impossible to part ways peacefully.”

For a second, Jeno peeks at Donghyuck, curious to see how he’s taking in that information. He’s hugging the last jeans he tried on against his chest, hands clutching at the edges, and his gaze has shifted from fright to understanding, like Renjun’s words explain why Donghyuck’s feelings are so intense. Jeno isn’t free from understanding it; witches affect each other without exceptions, so he finds Renjun appealing, and Renjun finds Jaemin and him appealing too.

“Sorry, Hyuck,” Renjun mumbles, though his tone is careful when he addresses Donghyuck. It’s rude to draw a line between witches and the rest when Donghyuck is present, when someone that will feel misplaced is present. “We shouldn’t be doing this in front of you.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, effusive, “It’s fine.”

However, to give them false privacy, Donghyuck slides the curtain. Renjun sighs at his reaction, and Jeno feels apologetic because if they argue, it’s going to be his fault. Jeno wishes he could keep his friends safe and away from his disasters, because the only one who ever dealt with him and his issues was Jaemin. No one else is qualified to handle Jeno.

“Think about it, yeah?” Renjun asks him then, a clear closure for the conversation. It’s impossible to tell Renjun to leave him alone, since his friend is looking out for him too, not only for Yukhei. He’s looking out for all of them, if Jeno ponders about it. They have created a beautiful connection, but not an unbreakable connection; Jeno is aware that nothing is immune to his mistakes. “I know you have a lot to lose with Jaemin. But so does he.”

A lot is a mild way to describe it. They can lose each other, and that’s everything.

VIII.

Luck is on Jeno’s side, because Yukhei asks him to help with the birthday preparations, and Jeno would never reject an opportunity to distract himself. Yukhei is keen on throwing the party at his apartment though he shares the place with other four guys; three of which are his friends, so they will attend the birthday party anyhow, but the fourth guy is hard to convince.

“Come in and use your magic on him,” Yukhei jokes when Jeno arrives at the apartment.

Much to Jeno’s surprise, Yukhei has already set half of the party, except for the food and drinks. It’s amusing because he still needs permission from this fourth flatmate, and if he refuses, they will have to find a local out of the blue and carry all the things there.

“Way to introduce myself, right?” Jeno retorts with a laugh, and Yukhei smiles wider. He welcomes Jeno into his arms, and then his lips are on his, his hand tenderly stroking down his hair. Jeno feels comfortable, safe and doesn’t get why he should renounce to this. When Yukhei plants a last smooch on his lips and then breaks the kiss, Jeno figures out, “Is that why you called me a day before, to introduce me to your friends?”

“Maybe,” Yukhei confesses. Jeno assumed that he would spend the night, and considering that it’s a Thursday, he expected the other flatmates to be at home. Yukhei bumps their noses together, poking Jeno’s nose with affection, and murmurs a gentle, “Is it okay?”

Renjun’s voice is inside Jeno’s head. They fall for us much more easily than we fall for them. But this is normal, right? The least Yukhei can do is to let his friends meet the guy that is invading their apartment all the time, even though sometimes they notice him only because they can hear Jeno’s voice through the walls at night. It’s etiquette, he reckons.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies. Yet looking behind Yukhei, to the closed doors of the rooms, provokes him a sensation of vertigo. “But I’m suddenly feeling shy.”

“Don’t worry, you’re much more intimidating than any of them.”

Yukhei’s smile is soothing, and so is the way he entangles their hands and leads Jeno around the house. So Jeno lets his own nervousness flow, because this has to be done, and clutches onto Yukhei’s hands as though that will keep him safe. It’s an automatic reflex: that’s how he warns Jaemin that he needs help, and Jaemin always does anything so that Jeno is protected and comfortable. He can’t find that in Yukhei.

Yukhei’s flatmates are older than them, most of them fresh out of university, and though they are quite nice, they bomb Jeno with questions. Yukhei snickers from time to time at Jeno’s scared reactions, yet he supposes that Yukhei’s friends are making sure he’s dating the right person. Judging how they seem to like Jeno after a few hours, appearances are deceiving.

In the middle of the night, Jeno twirls around in bed and catches sight of the light coming from his screen. His notifications are off except for one person, so he nearly jumps at the realization – it’s past four in the morning, a very odd hour, and Jaemin might have gotten into trouble. Instead, what greets Jeno is a simple where are you? and Jeno has to toss his phone aside, well aware that he can’t tell Jaemin that he’s spending the night at Yukhei’s.

It’s a coincidence that Jaemin is seeking him tonight, that he probably went to his room just to discover that he wasn’t there, and perhaps he’s worried about his well-being. But Jeno is concerned as well, and even if Jaemin doesn’t protect him anymore, there are certain things Jeno can protect his friend from.

IX.

“Did you skip classes?” is the first thing Renjun tells him, disapproval in his voice, when Jeno opens the door for him. He scans Jeno from head to toe, processing the fact that he’s wearing slippers and the upper part of his pajama, although he has already styled his hair for the party. “Lee Jeno, you skipped classes.”

Renjun is accusing him of more things, like the fact that he spent the night here and didn’t bother to tell Jaemin, and most likely how Renjun had to console Jaemin in his absence. But before Jeno can soak in his guilt, Donghyuck appears after Renjun, dragging a huge garbage bag which, Jeno knows, contains the teddy bear he bought for Yukhei. A teddy bear that doesn’t even fit in his bed, by the way, so it’s going to be interesting to see what Yukhei does with him.

“Jeno skipped classes?” Donghyuck gasps, adding unnecessary drama.

“Stop saying that,” Jeno protests, knitting his eyebrows together. “Why is it such a big issue?”

“Love changes a man,” Yukhei chirps us behind him, walking by to aid Donghyuck with the bag. Then Yukhei mumbles, “The fuck is this? Did you buy me a person?”

Ignoring the fit of giggles Donghyuck bursts into, because that bear weighs more than any of them, Jeno nudges Yukhei’s arm, indignant. “Why are you siding with them?”

“Because you really skipped classes for me,” Yukhei points out, satisfied.

“You begged me so that I helped you.”

“And you accepted. So?”

Renjun stares at them with his eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t comment on the scene. Deep inside, Jeno is aware that he’s seizing them up, trying to decipher if Jeno is the best actor in the world or he really likes Yukhei this much. Love changes a man, Yukhei has dared to say, and no one has blinked an eye at the choice of words. Perhaps Jeno should have.

“Answer your texts,” Renjun reproaches him in a mumble, but he sounds resigned rather than indignant.

The positive side is that when Jeno answers Jaemin that he’s already at Yukhei’s house, he doesn’t have to explain anything, because all of them are supposed to be there tonight. If Jaemin is capable of connecting the dots from last night, it won’t be Jeno’s fault.

Jeno doesn’t have any time to obsess over Jaemin attending the party or not, because in less than a hour other guests start arriving, and Donghyuck and he run all over the house to store Yukhei’s gifts in his room and to make sure everyone feels at home. Needless to say, Yukhei has invited too many people, and in a matter of minutes the house is buzzing with energy. It’s then, when everything is running smoothly and Yukhei is too busy receiving birthday greetings, that Jeno’s mind shifts towards Jaemin.

Trying not to be desperate, Jeno looks for Renjun first, since it’s easier to ask for him than for someone that might not even be there. Renjun is in the kitchen, talking to one of Yukhei’s roommates, whom he probably knew beforehand.

“Stressed?” Renjun shoots at him upon recognizing Jeno.

Jeno is stressed, but not for the reasons one would suppose. He doesn’t even care that Yukhei’s flatmate is present as he asks Renjun, “Is Jaemin here?”

At first, Renjun sends him a warning glance, like he thinks Jeno has lost his mind. “Yeah, he came with Mark,” he confirms, and something twirls in Jeno’s stomach. “Check the living room.”

Jeno does, with rushed breath and his heart racing. But Jaemin and Mark are just talking, flattened out on the couch, and both of them are wearing casual clothes, as though they came straight from their classes to the party. It’s, nonetheless, a strange experience to note how Mark’s arm is around Jaemin’s shoulders, how Jaemin has slightly bent towards him, chasing that comfort. Jaemin isn’t feeling well, Jeno could have noticed from miles away, and for once he isn’t resorting to Jeno for consolation.

It should warm Jeno’s heart that Jaemin has other friends to lean on, but he feels that he’s not part of Jaemin’s life anymore. Which is a paranoia of his and nothing else, but Jeno can’t shake it off. Jaemin’s eyes are too focused on Mark, and with the noise of the music and the party, he doesn’t notice Jeno approaching them. Mark lifts his hand and waves at him, and then Jaemin’s gaze shifts to Jeno, eyes widening.

“Hey,” Jeno greets them, as casually as possible. It’s a horrible feeling to observe Jaemin and be aware that he’s in pieces, not able to compose himself, but Jeno has to ignore it on purpose if he doesn’t want to worsen Jaemin’s mood. “What happened last night?”

“There was an infestation in my room, my roommate went into panic, he wouldn’t let me act,” Jaemin recites like it’s out of a manual. An infestation. Jaemin has never dealt with an infestation, and neither has Jeno, but with two witches it would have been less dangerous for Jaemin. As though he can read Jeno’s mind, Jaemin assures him, “Everything is solved now.”

Of course it is, because unlike him Renjun was available. This is the reason Jeno can’t disappear from Jaemin’s life, the reason they need each other; if they had never met Renjun, Jaemin could have ended up hurt just because Jeno was too much of a coward to admit that he was sleeping with his boyfriend. And Jaemin is conscious of it. He’s upset, even if he smiles up at Jeno and uses his acting skills so that Jeno believes him; but the corners of his lips don’t curve up enough to be a honest smile, and Jeno’s heart drops lower and lower.

Jaemin is about to ignore him, giving closure to the topic, so Jeno asks, “Why are you two not having fun?”

“What do you mean?” Mark leans back, a subtle signal that Jeno won’t be able to drag him off the couch. He spreads his legs further, smiling. “I’m having a lot of fun.”

Mark is unfazed at the glare Jeno throws at him, and Jaemin is entertained enough to let out a small laugh. After being involved in the preparations, Jeno isn’t going to allow them to spend the night bored on the couch. He reaches out, extending his palm upwards, and orders, “Jaemin, come and dance.”

“With you?” Jaemin says, a little breathless.

“Who else?”

Jaemin presses their hands together, a dubitative spark in his eyes, and Jeno pulls him up. Censure radiates from Mark while Jeno slips away with Jaemin, yet Jeno couldn’t care less when it’s the first time in weeks that Jaemin trusts him so easily, so fast.

Jaemin’s reticence fades away as they get swallowed by the small crowd of people dancing and Jeno grins at him; sadness can’t be erased in the blink of an eye, but when the next song plays, Jeno has an idea. Dancing isn’t foreign to any of them, less dancing together. When they were kids, they would dance all the time around their parents – also inappropriate songs, though it took Jeno a few years to understand why their parents laughed so much at them – and during puberty, they joined dance classes for a while. They’re not aces, but they got rid of the shame long ago. There’s a limit to that, however, because when the I just wanna see you strip, damn you're sexy for me line drops, Jeno teasingly lifts his shirt. And Jaemin’s eyes flicker down, wide and dilated, before realizing what Jeno is trying to do.

The trick is effective, for Jaemin starts laughing right away, and when Jeno moves his shirt further up, Jaemin charges against him and tugs the hem of his shirt down. Jeno snorts as well, because Jaemin is more embarrassed about Jeno stripping than Jeno himself, and Jeno lays his hands on his back, keeping him in place.

“What are you doing?” Jaemin whines in his neck, his laughter echoing against Jeno’s skin.

“Feeling the song,” Jeno replies, joking. And then, on a sincere note, he admits, “Making you laugh.”

When Jaemin pulls back, there’s something akin to surprise in his eyes. Gratitude, but not because Jeno intends to cheer him up, but because Jeno still cares about him. And then Jeno makes him move, and they dance, but they’re not focused on moving along to the music. It’s an excuse to touch each other, to look at each other, to intertwine fingers and smile and pretend that Jaemin is perfectly fine, and so is Jeno.

Yet they aren’t, and when the song ends, both of them step out of their daze. And it’s not regretful for once, or at least Jaemin’s face extends into a smile and Jeno finds himself doing the same, because they understand and accept what they’re doing – even if they shouldn’t. The sincerity of Jaemin’s smile doesn’t die even as he looks behind Jeno, something that becomes his cue to leave, and squeezes Jeno’s hand amicably before turning around.

Jeno’s heart beats faster in his ribcage, but he loses sight of Jaemin in the blink of an eye and has no option but to discover what made him leave. It’s evident. It’s Yukhei, who is walking up to him with a big grin plastered on his face – if he has witnessed the scene, he doesn’t mind.

“I opened your gift,” Yukhei betrays himself, screaming over the music.

“No!” Jeno protests. Yukhei promised he wouldn’t, Jeno made him promise it, actually, because Yukhei looked at the box with greedy eyes as soon as Donghyuck brought it in. And Jeno had given it to his friends for the mere reason that he was sure Yukhei wouldn’t last the whole night without taking a peek. “I had to be there, this is so unfair.”

Yukhei indulges him in his complaints, brings his arms around Jeno’s waist and leads both of them towards a clean, empty part of the living room. They trip a few times because Jeno jokingly refuses to move and Yukhei has to pout for him to give in; but when they’re in an intimate corner, away from the music, Yukhei leans his head to the side and smirks down at Jeno.

“I got too curious,” he excuses himself. “Don’t you want to know if I liked it or not?”

Jeno knows that Yukhei loved it. After five days trying to decide what he should buy for him, Jeno remembered that Yukhei loves his tricks and that it’d be perfect if he could enclose a bit of his magic.

Back at home, Jeno has a hundred urns in which the replicas of mythical creatures live. They’re not real, not alive, and far from their real size, but they behave like their actual living creatures. They roar, play, scratch, and Jeno used to liberate them around his room when he was alone - his mom scolded him for it, because if one of them escaped it could cause a ruckus. So Jeno bought an urn, created a haetae in miniature and named him Yukhei, trained him so that he responded to the name. Yukhei probably opened the gift because the creature was making too much noise, so Jeno can’t blame him.

“I don’t care,” Jeno lies, lifting his chin in stubborness.

However, it’s hard to keep his serious façade as Yukhei pulls him closer and closer, with a stupid smile, and Jeno breaks into laughter. “You don’t have any competition,” Yukhei jokes, referring to Jeno’s unexplainable ambition to give him the best gift. “The party? We can cancel it. The gifts? We can throw them away. I think I have everything I wanted.”

“Very corny of you,” Jeno mumbles in slight embarrassment.

Even though he expected Yukhei to like it, he didn’t anticipate this reaction. It’s both satisfying and frightening, and Jeno understands how it feels to have his sense of morality cracking and still be content about it. Jeno’s smile hasn’t disappeared when Yukhei curls a hand around his neck and hauls him into a gentle kiss, though he has to make a great effort to ignore the buzzing vibration of his conscience.

X.

The only reason Jeno doesn’t stay the night is because Jaemin goes missing.

He can’t tell when or how, but the next time Jeno asks about Jaemin’s whereabouts, a girl tells him that Mark and he ran to the bathroom. And when Jeno knocks on the bathroom’s door, it opens without resistance and there isn’t anyone inside.

Jeno feels nausea rising up, a bad hunch and his extrasensory senses partnering up. But he isn’t the sort of person that assumes or that drowns in bad sensations to come up with hurtful conclusions. Neither Jaemin nor Mark were drinking the last time Jeno spotted them: they went into the bathroom for another reason, and there are many possible reasons that make Jeno nervous. There is one reason in particular that he can’t even consider, a reason that fits perfectly, because Jaemin would be discreet and Mark wouldn’t dare to put his hands on Jaemin in front of everyone.

It’s none of his business, but at the same time it is. It’s one after midnight when Jeno steals one of Yukhei’s coats and leaves the house, the noise of the party sulking when he closes behind him. Mark and Jaemin aren’t in the yard around the house, and Jaemin doesn’t answer any of Jeno’s texts - which he deserves, to be honest, you get what you give. But Jaemin isn’t in his room either, and his rommate stares at Jeno like he’s out of his mind for coming over at this time. And after all, Jeno is too much of a coward to go to Mark’s place, not only because he might interrupt something that he doesn’t even want to acknowledge, but because it’s a move that reveals that between Jaemin and Yukhei, Jeno will always choose one of them first.

XI.

It’s curious how they fit back into their routine. Like nothing happened.

Jeno never asks where Jaemin went, and Jaemin never tells him; he doesn’t even seem to know that Jeno noticed, which is a personal offense. They have always had an eye on each other, to make sure they were safe and sound, and it doesn’t have to be different now. Jaemin assumes that it is, so oblivious and so conscious at the same time. Jeno doesn’t have the heart to confront him about it, because he’s afraid of the thin line between talking and fighting, and deep inside he has a lot of things to shout at Jaemin.

However, routine breaks after a week. Jaemin cancels the plans with him, sends him a strange message about having to leave the campus, and Jeno doesn’t hesitate to turn up at his door.

Jaemin is alone, but the room is a mess. There are candles everywhere, even on the furniture, tracing a clear figure on the room. The floor is painted with red and blue materials that Jeno is familiar with, but to think that Jaemin and Renjun did this and that they can’t remove it because of security yet, gives Jeno chills.

“Hey,” Jaemin greets him, breathless after jumping over the room not to spoil his work. “Be careful not to step on the salt.”

Jaemin trails the path back to where he was, and it’s then that Jeno discovers that he’s packing his clothes, tightly secure in a small suitcase. When Jaemin said he had to leave, Jeno didn’t imagine that he meant for more than a day.

“What-” Jeno begins. He remembers Jaemin’s warning, so he looks at the floor while he dodges the candles. His glasses almost fall down his nose for staring down, which would have ruined the whole ritual, but he catches them in the last moment. “What are you doing?”

Jaemin’s hair is pointing everywhere, his eyes wander around with evident nervousness and it’s terribly obvious that this has been a last minute decision. It’d be awful to presume that this is a trick to avoid Jeno, yet Jeno doesn’t know what to expect from Jaemin anymore.

“Going back home. This place needs a bit of rest,” he explains, pushing a pair of socks into the tiniest corner of the suitcase. He runs a hand through his hair afterwards, not even glancing at Jeno. “I’m going to spend the weekend there. It’s just a short visit.”

None of them have visited their hometown in the whole year. Jaemin and his family are good at handling long distances and independency – in fact, Jaemin’s parents travelled a lot when he was a kid – so it’s odd that Jaemin has the sudden need to visit them. Their hometown is around six hours away by train, which isn’t much, but becomes a good quantity for a short visit.

Before Jeno can process what he’s saying, his mouth forms a decision, “I’ll go with you.”

Jaemin snaps his head up, confused. “What?” he says, and then laughs like he’s sure that it’s a joke. But when Jeno’s expression remains serious and to some extent indignant, Jaemin catches on. “Jeno, you don’t have to. I can travel alone, I’m not five.”

It’s useless for Jeno to convince Jaemin that he doesn’t intend to accompany him, because that’s what he intends and Jaemin can see through him. Still, as Jeno plops down on his bed, he reminds him, “I have to visit too. My father is still angry over me not going during Yule.”

“Such a bad son,” Jaemin taunts him, well spirited. His family is flexible with festivities, for they don’t consider them a moment to reunite but to boost their skills. Jeno’s family differs. “You should have gone. You didn’t want to stay here, anyhow.”

Jeno doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like Jaemin pretending that Jeno should mind other issues before Jaemin, because their silent deal contradicts that. “I wanted to stay with you.”

“You felt that you had to.”

Jeno huffs. There’s a difference between obligation and will, and being involved in one doesn’t cancel the other one. So what if he had to? He wanted to.

“I’d have preferred stabbing myself than letting you spend Yule alone. So there’s that.”

Jaemin doesn’t move after that, bangs covering his eyes and head down, as if his suitcase is the most interesting object in the world. The silence becomes too big, but they have never been afraid of big silences.

“So passionate,” Jaemin murmurs, voice hoarse. Jeno smiles to himself, strangely pleased with the teasing. “The train parts in one hour and a half. Do you need any help to pack?”

XII.

Setting foot in the train station is revealing. Jeno has been here twice, and the first time took place when Jaemin and he arrived for university. Even though it happened months ago, it feels as though an eternity went by. The reason is that they were different, that these months shaped them in ways they never imagined, and Jeno looks at the station with different eyes too.

Jaemin’s innocence is gone, and so is Jeno’s. It’s not a bad change. They were two young boys full of life and unrealistic dreams, hung up on each other and their friendship, and today they wait on the platform and Jeno feels the same urge of holding Jaemin’s hand. He holds the hand of a man, not a teen anymore, but Jeno is in love with the man as much as he was in love with the teen.

They don’t talk, but they don’t need to. In the train, Jaemin falls asleep in a matter of minutes, pressed against Jeno, and Jeno cradles him with the certainty that Jaemin hasn’t slept well or much in the past weeks – and that Jeno is the cause. Jaemin always looks so small in his arms, the tension of his shoulders gone, his doe eyes closed, and Jeno adores him a bit more every time.

XIII.

“I’m nervous,” Jaemin announces, drying his hands on his pants.

Nervous is a mild way to put it. They have decided to visit Jeno’s house first, since it’s the easiest path from the train station. As they approached, Jeno has noticed how Jaemin’s semblance shifted from peace to terror. Going back home isn’t supposed to be a distressing experience, for they should be happy instead, and Jeno can’t understand why Jaemin is so tense, so concerned.

“I can’t believe this,” Jeno snickers, incredulous. Jaemin looks amazingly ridiculous standing by the door with his ugly red suitcase in hand and about to run away. “It’s my parents, Jaemin. You know them since you were born, literally.”

“Yeah, well.” Jaemin doesn’t sound convinced. He sends Jeno a significant look of pain, “I hadn’t groped their son before.”

Jeno nearly chokes on his own saliva at that, but it’s justified. He thought that they would never bring the topic up, and less in front of his parents’ house. It’s the last place where Jeno is disposed to discuss that he made out with Jaemin.

So he does what’s natural: he covers Jaemin’s mouth with his palm, alarmed, and in the process scares Jaemin further. “My god, don’t say that out loud,” Jeno hisses, red like blood.

With pitiful eyes, Jaemin moves his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. And to betray Jeno’s moment of trust, of freedom to talk, he insists, “But it’s true! What if they can feel it?”

This time, Jeno can’t resist the temptation of laughing. If Jaemin is this anxious over such a trivial matter – or a matter that would be trivial to Jeno’s parents, at least – Jeno can’t imagine him trying to hurt someone on purpose.

“I hope you’re joking.” Jaemin looks terrified, as though Jeno’s lack of understanding is just aggravating his state. Even though Jeno squeezes his hand to calm him down, it’s impossible not to cackle as he assures Jaemin, “They won’t know, okay? I promise.”

They don’t even suspect it, of course, but Jaemin is neurotic anyhow. It gives Jeno a good laugh, though his mother pulls him apart to ask him if Jaemin is feeling fine, if he’s in trouble, and Jeno just laughs harder. To be the one that initiated the kiss, Jaemin surely is a mess, but his kiss started this chaos and Jeno guesses that to some extent he deserves it.

He offers Jaemin strolling home with him, but Jaemin declines. Maybe he needs to relax alone, to talk to his parents in private and ask for advice – Jeno has a feeling that this was the purpose of this trip, because no matter how much they have grown, they’re not exempt from needing their parents’ advice. So Jeno lets him go, distractedly stroking the back of his hand before Jaemin can jump down the entrance stairs.

It’s ironical that they message each other that night, that Jeno ignores everyone else from university, because they’re back home and the external world mustn’t interrupt them. Jaemin wants to go to their middle school tomorrow. Jeno wants to have lunch in that old, dirty place his neighbors run. Jaemin wants to check if their former classmates are in town, to talk to them and make sure the skating club is still open. Jeno wants to have Jaemin for himself, to lie with him and listen to his breathing and just hope that time stops, or that time retreats, and that they can pretend that they never left this place.

XIV.

Jeno is happy, until he isn’t.

“It’s you or no one,” Jaemin says, voice broken and devastated. “It’s not- I’m not lying, I’m not pressuring. I don’t mind being alone. With you or alone, Jeno.”

Jeno hasn’t seen anyone more beautiful in his whole life. They fall more easily for us than we fall for them. So funny. A thousand witches could cross Jeno’s life and he wouldn’t look at any of them, because only Jaemin shines like one of the stars hanging off Jeno’s ceiling.

“I love you,” Jaemin whispers, but for once, it doesn’t break him.

And Jeno believes him.

XV.

Jaemin doesn’t have to put his pieces back together, because he finds peace in his own confession. His realization, perhaps.

Envy contaminates Jeno during that night, for Jaemin sleeps soundly and Jeno can’t even close his eyes. But there’s a knot in his chest and it’s not a negative feeling; it’s just something that Jeno has never felt before. He has Jaemin on his bed, cuddling with him in a tiny bed that shouldn’t even fit one of them, and it’s the happiest moment of Jeno’s life. Jaemin’s peace radiates from his expression, the childlike part of him floating in the air, as though a simple I love you has swept away all the worries. And to think that Jeno can have this for the rest of his life, or if destiny takes a wrong turn, for a few years, is unimaginable.

But Jeno wants this. He was an idiot for forcing himself into a life that wasn’t meant for him; that’s not how it works, it’s not working if he has to convince himself. The ultimatum was necessary, however, and among all the attempts of sabotage, Jaemin has learned the perfect way to put an end to this. It’s a sweet sabotage. It’s another chance, because after this they have a hundred things to prove to each other, to test if they’re good together and they accept themselves with all the mistakes and the pain they inflicted, sometimes on purpose.

And, overall, Jeno has a huge barrier to break before allowing Jaemin to crush him whole.

XVI.

Donghyuck lifts his hand in the air, clutching Renjun’s hand, and announces, “We are getting married.”

Mark flinches, disgusted. “I don’t like this game.”

No one seems to like this game, in fact, apart from Donghyuck himself. In Jeno’s opinion, this is one of his strategies, hidden intentions behind the excuse of a bonding game. Renjun hasn’t protested, but Jeno can sense that he’s just indulging Donghyuck as usual, and that’s not a good sign.

Jaemin and Jeno have arrived at the campus a couple of hours ago, deep night, just to discover that Donghyuck had bombed their group chat so all of them would meet. Even if they would have preferred to rest, ignoring Donghyuck’s demands is never a good idea, so Jeno dragged Jaemin to the meet up. To his disgrace, the motive was that Donghyuck had deemed opportune to play a game. A game that travels from seniors to freshmen every year, that according to Donghyuck is fun and will unite them closer; which, to be honest, sounds like pure witchcraft. And although Mark and Yukhei aren’t freshmen, he has managed to involve them as well. So they sit around a table in one of the most popular bars of the campus, which is crowded despite the fact that tomorrow is Tuesday. It’s better this way, since Jeno doesn’t have enough privacy to talk to Yukhei, and their reencounter is limited to a short kiss when they see each other. Jaemin looks away on purpose right then, chatting Renjun up, but his expression doesn’t reveal anything.

Donghyuck grunts, “Well, and I don’t like you, and yet here we are.”

“Who made it up?” Mark attacks, not disposed to give up. He mocks him, “Was it you?”

“It’s a tradition!”

Traditions are somewhat weird, Jeno reckons. The game consists in making pairs out of their group of friends and let them spend a whole day together, without anyone else. It’s called marriage, though Jeno believes that Donghyuck might have invented that part himself.

“The point of this game is to bond with other friends, not with your boyfriend,” Yukhei chirps in. He sends Renjun a judging glance, and adds, “You have done that enough.”

Displeased, Donghyuck scrunches his nose at him. But he’s not one to be messed with, and Jeno is aware that Donghyuck is about to take revenge on them for disagreeing with him.

Crossing his hands over the table, he cedes. “Fine. Jeno with me, Renjun with Mark and Yukhei with Jaemin.” Half of the boys pale at the mere idea, and Donghyuck smirks in satisfaction, conscious that they hate him a bit more after this. “There you have your bonding time. Objections?”

No one speaks out against it, because they can’t without creating a bad atmosphere. Jeno peeks at Jaemin, who is gazing back at him with endless desperation; next to him, Yukhei has tensed up and there’s evident regret on his face for contradicting Donghyuck. The last thing Jaemin and Yukhei wish is bond, and Jeno isn’t sure that’s even possible. They’re better off pretending that they don’t have Jeno in common for uncomfortable reasons, that they can be friends.

XVII.

The game doesn’t seem to be such a bad idea when Jeno wakes up.

Imagining Jaemin and Yukhei together all day, however, sends pulses of anxiety through him. A slip of the tongue and their friendships will be ruined – Jeno can’t expect them to be reasonable if one of them breaks boundaries, because feelings aren’t rational.

The positive aspect of the game is that Jeno has enough time to clear up his mind. A moment of peace without Yukhei and without Jaemin that lasts until Donghyuck barges into his room with a bag full of food.

“Who gave you the key?” Jeno asks him, stretching on his bed.

“Jisung.” Donghyuck twirls around, leaves the food on the bedside table, and climbs on the bed with Jeno. To Jeno’s irritation, Donghyuck doesn’t plan to join him in his sleep, because he tugs at his shirt until Jeno sits up with a grumble. “I promised him I’d take you out and away from Jaemin. He really hates him, huh?”

That’s another problem that Jeno will have to face sooner or later. Jisung’s resentment towards Jaemin after watching Jeno suffer for months shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Jeno sighs a, “He does.”

“Poor baby,” Donghyuck coos, and he doesn’t mean Jisung, he means Jeno. He slips his hand over Jeno’s hand, smiling. “You can talk to me today, I’m all yours. We’re married.”

Donghyuck isn’t doing this out of sympathy alone, but to snoop. Renjun and he are a nightmare, and Jeno has just learned that they should never return home again, because that concedes them time to plot against them. All in all, Jeno is grateful for the food and the company – and because Donghyuck leads him to skip his lectures – and finally aware that Donghyuck is his friend too, not just Renjun’s boyfriend.

Donghyuck’s plans are to feed Jeno until he explodes, because they stroll around the city and Donghyuck keeps stopping to buy him food. Jeno isn’t allowed to reject it, since Donghyuck looks at him like he’s breaking his heart every single time; it doesn’t take much time for Jeno to figure out what’s happening. Donghyuck becomes interested in food every time Jeno fishes his phone out of his pocket, and if Jeno puts two and two together, it’s simple to reach a conclusion.

“I’m nervous over them, okay? Let me check if they texted me,” Jeno complains when they walk past by a shop that sells sandwiches and Donghyuck’s aim in life is to buy the biggest sandwich for Jeno. “You’re out of your mind, you know?”

“Did I do anything wrong?” Donghyuck asks with fake innocence. Jeno glowers at him, because Donghyuck is aware of the hole he has thrown his friends into. “I know. They might end up in a fight. Or they might team up against you.”

That’d be funny, though not undeserved. Jeno is certain that he prefers them to hate him than hurt each other.

Donghyuck pays for the sandwiches, threads their arms together as they exit, and shoots, “How was the weekend with Jaemin?”

He makes it sound like Jeno went on a romantic escapade with Jaemin. But Jeno can’t get angry at him, because even if he would never cheat on anyone, that doesn’t erase the fact that he was dying to have a chance at kissing Jaemin.

“Don’t be cruel, Hyuck,” Jeno mumbles.

“It’s not me who is cruel.”

Donghyuck looks up at the sky with a frown that progressively deepens. Jeno wouldn’t call himself cruel, but the situation might be. It’s unfair for Yukhei that even if he falls in love, Jeno will always be in love with someone else. Jeno ignores if he can love two persons at the same time, but he will never love anyone how he loves Jaemin, and after loving like that, there’s no turning back.

Instead of changing the topic, Donghyuck firmly tells Jeno, “Break up with him before he does it out of hatred.”

There’s no point in denying that he’s planning to break up with Yukhei. However, it’s strange that their friends know about it with such certainty that they don’t have to ask first. Jeno wonders if even Mark has noticed, and how come Yukhei hasn’t, or if Yukhei is keeping his silence because he refuses to let go of Jeno, just like Jaemin did once upon a time.

Talking about this in the middle of a street, with people passing by, is much more calming than Jeno could have ever imagined. It lifts off the crushing seriousness, makes it easier for Jeno to open up.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Jeno confesses. And that’s the only barrier preventing him from breaking up with him: that he has never broken up with anyone, and he needs the right words for it not to be a disaster.

“Then you’re right on time,” Donghyuck replies, fast and confident. Much to Jeno’s surprise, Donghyuck gifts him a small smile, as if he understood the dilemma Jeno has. “Listen, Yukhei is going to meet other guys. Actually, Renjun may or may have not done a small reading of his life, so it’s not a supposition.”

Jeno trips with his own feet, and he’s lucky that Donghyuck is holding his arm or otherwise he would have fallen forward like a rock. “Renjun did what?”

Perhaps Donghyuck isn’t conscious of how intrusive that is, but Renjun must have explained it to him, because Donghyuck knows that it’s wrong.

That’s why he tries to excuse Renjun with a sullen, “It was an exception. We kept arguing because I was rooting for you two and I thought you could work out, and I didn’t know why he was so stubborn on not accepting your relationship.” An embarrassed smile invades his face. It’s never easy to be wrong, but Jeno appreciates that Donghyuck believed in him even if it was foolish of him. “Then he told me that he had read all of your alternatives outcomes. And I had to shut up.”

That explains why Renjun didn’t support them. Jeno feels like laughing, for Renjun might have a slightly crooked morality, but he’s smart. He could have manipulated them, and instead he chose to leave small seeds and hope for them to grow into full plants, which requires a great patience. It’s likely that he knew that Jaemin was going to confess during the weekend.

Jeno presses a palm against his forehead, overwhelmed, “You know what’s going to happen?”

“I’m not going to tell you about Jaemin and you,” Donghyuck warns him, exchanging a significant look of disapproval. It’s detrimental to know one’s future. “I can just tell you that breaking up with Yukhei is the best outcome for him.”

If Jeno cares about Yukhei, he has to choose the best outcome for him. That’s the way to redeem himself without selfish interests, the way to preserve their friendship. Donghyuck is giving him that choice because he intuits that it’s what Jeno and Yukhei need, because Jeno would never want to kick Yukhei out of his life.

“I don’t want him to think I used him.”

This time, Donghyuck looks a bit surprised. “He knows you like him. He’s not stupid, and not inexperienced either.” And then, bringing a hand to his chest, he dramatically inputs, “Plus, I would have never encouraged you if it wasn’t obvious that you had a thing for him.”

Jeno laughs, feeling better. “Okay, but who doesn’t have a thing for Yukhei?”

“Don’t say that,” Donghyuck orders him. He doesn’t deny that he agrees with Jeno, however. “I don’t want to think that Renjun might have a thing for him.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno,” Donghyuck grumbles. It’s not serious, but he’s a good actor, and Jeno gives him the benefit of looking affected by his threatening tone. “I’m being a good friend, but I could be a really bad friend if you go on that path.”

Even if Donghyuck tried, he would still be nothing but an angel.

XVIII.

Following Donghyuck’s advice, Jeno represses the need of bombing Jaemin with texts. He doesn’t sleep well that night, though, because there are no news from any of other guys and Donghyuck claims that they have to sleep together – which is a way to spy and control Jeno, he suspects. And if they have to sleep together, it means that Yukhei and Jaemin will do it too.

Nonetheless, Jaemin turns up at his door the next morning, not minding that Donghyuck is there. It’s awkward when Jaemin steps inside and realizes that he has to face both Jisung and Donghyuck, and that only the latter is disposed to be nice to him. Jeno is too worried to care about the situation, and the first thing he does is to inspect Jaemin’s face and hands to make sure that he didn’t fight. Jaemin is untouched, needless to say, and Jeno catches Jisung rolling his eyes at them while Jeno cups Jaemin’s face.

“It was fine,” Jaemin mumbles, as though Jisung and Donghyuck can’t hear him in the silence of the room.

Jaemin looks tired, but that’s all, and Jeno forces himself to believe him. There are dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue, and he would ask if it didn’t feel so invasive. After all, he isn’t entitled to know what happened between Yukhei and Jaemin if they don’t wish to tell.

“Yeah?” Donghyuck interrupts them, happy. He brings his knees up to his chin, hiding a blatant smile. “I hope it was a revealing experience.”

Jaemin glares at him, and Jeno can’t help but laugh at that. Just because they didn’t kill each other it doesn’t mean that it was a good idea, and Donghyuck risked many things with this decision. Yet Jaemin’s anger dies down when he glances at Jeno again, remembering that he’s here for Jeno and not for Donghyuck or for Jisung to emanate hatred.

“You’re dating a great boy, you know?” Jaemin tells him then. Jeno’s heart stops. Jaemin is giving him a last chance to keep his current life. It’s a sign for Jeno to trust in his relationship with Yukhei, because Jaemin will approve of it. It’s a veiled I won’t blame you if you don’t want to lose him. Jeno nods, for he knows, he knows how much he’s losing, but Jaemin doesn’t seem to understand that it wouldn’t be his biggest loss. “Just making sure.”

They don’t have enough intimacy to have this conversation with clear words, so Jeno detaches himself and asks for a few minutes while he gets ready. No matter how much Donghyuck complains, he can’t skip another day of classes, since he’s a student that relies heavily on explanations. To avoid the possibility of Jisung stabbing him with a pen, Jaemin waits for him outside, and Jeno can hear him talk with someone else in the hall – after all it’s their building, so they know pretty much everyone at this point.

Jeno rushes out of his room and Jaemin greets him with a charming grin invading his face. Forgetting that they have serious issues to attend, Jeno is flooded with the thought of holding Jaemin’s hand and walking to his first class like that. He’s lucky that Jaemin has his hands in his pockets, because Jeno doesn’t want to embarrass himself nor being disrespectful.

Jaemin walks him to his class, since he has plenty of time, and they joke around without touching any sensitive topics. He pulls at Jeno’s bag to tease him, like a bored kid that can’t live without annoying others, and then laughs when Jeno tries to smack him on the head. It’s not until they are two faculties away  from Jeno’s faculty that Jaemin turns serious, calm, and his will to joke dissipates. Compared to Jeno’s room, the entrance of the faculty is a much more intimate place because there aren’t friends trying to spy on them, and that’s why Jaemin takes his chance to speak out.

“I need you to talk to him first,” he tells Jeno with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have confessed before that, and I’m sorry for that.”

Jeno is speechless for a whole minute, but Jaemin just takes a deep breath and waits. Despite the fact that he has imagined this moment a thousand times, it’s hard to articulate what he has to let Jaemin know. They have hurt each other unintentionally, clutching on their friendship, and somehow Jeno never expected Jaemin to kick his ultimatum away. It takes more than simple bravery to do so.

Playing with the straps of his bag, nervous, Jeno whispers, “You could choose and you chose that, and there’s nothing wrong with it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to sabotage me a last time.”

First there’s a hint of surprise in Jaemin’s eyes, as though he has believed until now that he was ruining Jeno’s chances at happiness. Then there’s transparent joy, a coy smile adorning his lips.

“Hurry up and break my heart if you have to,” he tempts Jeno, tapping under his chin so that he focuses on him. He walks back once Jeno stares at him, however, and his expression gives away that he’s not expecting to have his heart broken. “If not, just know that I can’t wait to kiss you.”

Jeno feels his patience run out, the last drops evaporating under Jaemin’s gaze. They have so many kisses ahead, as many as they want, and they have missed a hundred of them in the way, so Jeno will compensate for the wasted time.

XIX.

Yukhei has prepared himself for it.

Jeno ignores what the last straw was, that little detail that made Yukhei conclude that their relationship was going nowhere. Perhaps the fact that Jeno left during his birthday to look for Jaemin – because secrets spread fast and Jeno never gave him a proper excuse – or perhaps that Jeno changed their weekend plans to run away, to run back home with Jaemin. Or perhaps that Yukhei spent the day with Jaemin and realized what everyone realized upon meeting Jeno and Jaemin: that they were together in unexplainable, indefinable ways, and neither Yukhei nor anyone else could fight against that force.

After all his attempts, Jeno finds out that he can’t love Yukhei like he deserves to be loved. And they sit on his bed, Yukhei glancing at the door because it’s terribly obvious that his flatmates are on the other side, and there’s no need to explain that it’s over. The haetae that Jeno gifted him runs free around the room, crashing against Yukhei’s dispersed shoes and lifting its tail like it’s aware of its owner’s tension.

Yukhei follows the haetae with his eyes, maybe considering the irony of how much effort Jeno put in the creature, and sighs, “This is all, isn’t it?”

And it is. Yet Yukhei doesn’t sound sad, more inclined to his resolution and his resignation. Both of them tried, not only Jeno, because Yukhei was aware of what he was getting into. He had opted for ignoring it, just like Jeno had opted for ignoring his own feelings.

“I like you, Jeno,” Yukhei assures, but he says it like it doesn’t matter. Jeno could do the same. Jeno likes him, but it doesn’t matter. He understands. “University is for this, to have fun. And I had a lot of fun with you.”

Jeno barely dares to gaze into his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “So sorry.”

And it’s true, but Jeno has learned from this experience. He can’t run away from his own truths, and if he tries to, he might harm those around him. The universe put Yukhei in front of him this time, and it was a pure hit of luck, because Yukhei is a rare gem – any other person wouldn’t have forgiven Jeno.

At his apology, Yukhei releases a soft scoff. It catches Jeno off guard, since he isn’t expecting Yukhei to laugh at this – there’s nothing funny about dragging their relationship when it was weighing them down.

Eyes crinkled up, Yukhei slips his hand over the bed and caresses Jeno’s hand, comforting. “We can have fun in different ways,” he reminds him. Jeno tilts his head in confusion and Yukhei clarifies, “Appropriate ways.”

Jeno would be incredulous, but he knows Yukhei and though surprising, it’s not shocking that he’s capable of taking this with a bit of humor. “It feels like you are breaking up with me,” Jeno remarks, cautious.

“Oh, dude, it’s me who is breaking up with you,” Yukhei shoots back. And Jeno isn’t going to contradict him, because Yukhei has way more reasons to initiate this goodbye. The haetae distracts Yukhei for a second, and he keeps his mouth half open as though he has forgotten what he was going to add next. “I can keep the haetae, right?”

“Of course! It’s your gift,” Jeno exclaims, horrified at the mere thought of taking it away from Yukhei. There’s endless fondness in how Yukhei observes the creature. “I can make more for you.”

“Dangerous.” Yukhei grins at Jeno’s dumbfounded face. “I’ll hold you to your words.”

XX.

Four kisses, yet the fifth is the definitive one.

Jaemin is waiting for him in front of his door, arms crossed and a subtle smile on his lips, an expression that shows that he holds valuable knowledge. It’s a mystery how the news reached him. Probably Yukhei told Donghyuck, and Donghyuck told Renjun, and Renjun told Jaemin. And then Jaemin ran all the way here, considering it’d be the perfect moment because it’s dinner time and the halls are empty. So is Jeno’s room.

Jeno’s heart either freezes or beats so fast that he can’t tell the difference. He shouldn’t be so nervous, but it’s a simple look at Jaemin’s lips and Jeno senses how his legs give up on him. At Jaemin’s best weapon – his smile – Jeno has only one response.

“Did you forget anything here?” Jeno lets his sarcasm slip and walks straight to him, but halts at a safe distance.

Jaemin is unfazed, too content to care about Jeno playing hard to get. “A few things, actually.” He taps his heel against the door, eyes fixed on Jeno, and his tone deepens. “Open that door. This witch has some secrets to tell you.”

It’s hard for Jeno not to drop his keys in that exact moment, but somehow he manages to grip them harder and ignore Jaemin’s inquisitive stare. Even though Jaemin stays silent, Jeno doesn’t need him to talk to know that he’s smiling behind his back.

And Jeno doesn’t believe in that saying about an upcoming storm, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t true. He understands why now: because Jaemin is the storm, and it’s impossible to predict a storm when you’re already in it. And so as Jeno pushes the door open, the calm is over and Jaemin’s hands land on him.

It’s an intentional déjà vu, for Jaemin grabs Jeno and lifts him onto the table, not without trouble. Jeno can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up his throat, happiness blinding any fear because Jaemin hasn’t forgotten, because just like Jeno, he remembers their first kiss to the last detail. Jeno touches down on his own notes, but he couldn’t care less, not as Jaemin draws closer and encircles him, fingers stroking up to his neck.

Jaemin’s eyes glint when they meet Jeno’s gaze; he presses their foreheads together and they laugh, because it’s funny, really funny that they’re about to do this.

“We’re doing it right this time,” is what Jaemin decides.

And, pressing their lips together, is what they do.