Chapter Text
It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.
Mark kept thinking that as the taxi drove farther away from the city, the same thought repeating so many times in his head, trying to convince himself that this was just a silly little dream he'd soon wake up from.
The car smelled faintly like old leather and peppermint gum. The driver had some quiet radio station playing in the front, but Mark barely heard any of it. He sat curled toward the window with his duffel bag pulled close against him, fingers twisted tightly around the strap until they hurt. Every now and then, streetlights slid across the glass beside him, briefly reflecting his own face back at him before disappearing again.
He looked tired. Worse than tired, honestly. The taxi slowed as it turned into a long gravel driveway. Mark felt his stomach drop immediately. For one stupid second, he actually thought about telling the driver to keep going, to just pretend this wasn’t the right place. But then the building came fully into view through the windshield, and the hope disappeared as quickly as it came.
The clinic in front of him looked quite normal, and that bothered him more than if it had looked awful. It was modern, with wide glass windows reflecting the morning sky and soft wooden panels around the entrance. There were flowers planted near the pathway. Actual flowers. Lavender bushes, tulips, little white ones he didn’t recognize.
Someone had clearly spent time making the place look welcoming. Like that would somehow make people forget why they were here.
“Here you are,” the driver said gently.
Mark blinked and realized the car had stopped completely. “Oh.” His voice came out rough. “Right.”
He stared at the building a second longer anyway. His chest felt tight in that awful way it had been feeling lately, like breathing took too much effort, and his lungs never filled properly anymore. Then the driver looked at him through the mirror, and Mark knew he couldn’t just sit here forever. So, he grabbed his bag and stepped outside.
Cold air hit him immediately. The taxi door shut behind him, and before he could think too much about it, the car was already driving away again.
Then he was alone. He swallowed hard and looked back at the building. It didn’t feel real yet. Even standing in front of it, it still felt like something happening to somebody else, like eventually someone would come outside and tell him there’d been some misunderstanding and he could go home now. Not that home felt much better these days.
Still, he adjusted the strap on his shoulder and started walking toward the entrance slowly. The front doors didn’t open automatically. Instead, there was a small buzzer beside them with a sign asking visitors to press and wait. A tiny camera blinked above it, and Mark hesitated before pressing the button. His heart was beating so loudly now he could hear it in his ears. A few seconds later, there was a soft buzz, and one of the doors unlocked with a click.
Warm air wrapped around him as soon as he stepped inside. The lobby looked more like a hotel than a clinic, with a rather soft lighting, plants in the corners and chairs that actually looked comfortable. There were books and puzzles placed on a low table near the wall, and there was quiet piano music playing somewhere overhead.
Mark hated it instantly.
It's just that if the place had looked cold or miserable, maybe he would’ve felt more justified being scared. But everything here was soft, and warm, and gentle, and somehow that made him feel even worse. A man standing near the reception desk looked up when Mark entered. He was probably somewhere in his thirties, dressed neatly in dark slacks and a navy button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“Mr. Lee?” he asked.
Mark nodded awkwardly. “Yeah.”
The man stepped forward and offered his hand. “I’m Dr. Taeyong Lee. I’ll be handling your intake process.”
Mark shook his hand quickly. His own palm felt sweaty and cold.
“Welcome to NeoPath,” Dr. Lee said, smiling gently. “I know the first day can feel overwhelming, so I thought we could walk around a little before getting you settled."
Mark followed Dr. Lee into the intake area, where a nurse handed him a stack of forms to fill out before anything else. It was the usual process; basic personal information, medical history, sleep patterns, current symptoms, and a short questionnaire about his mental and physical state. He sat down and went through it quietly, signing where he was told and answering what he could, while Dr. Lee waited nearby to guide him through the rest of the admission process
Mark almost said he didn’t need a tour, that he didn’t care at all what the place looked like because he already wanted to leave and go home. But instead, he just nodded because that seemed easier to him (and because it'd feel too rude for him to decline the offer).
The halls were quieter than he expected as they walked around the building. There were paintings on the walls, colorful ones that looked like patients had probably made them, and a bulletin board near one of the doors was covered in handwritten notes and little drawings. Someone had sketched a badly drawn cat with the words: YOU SURVIVED THIS WEEK!!! underneath in huge letters
"We try to make things feel comfortable here,” Dr. Lee explained as they walked. “Recovering is important, but certainly so is feeling human.”
Human.
Mark looked away. That was kind of the problem, wasn’t it? He hadn’t really felt human in a while now.
He didn't have any time to let these thoughts linger as they passed a recreation room with couches and bookshelves and a few patients sitting together quietly. One girl was painting by the window, and another person was asleep under a blanket in a beanbag chair.
“I know being here can feel strange at first,” Dr. Lee said after a moment.
Mark let out a quiet laugh through his nose. “Yeah. Maybe a little bit.”
Definitely not just a little bit.
The doctor glanced at him kindly. “Most people never imagine they’ll end up somewhere like this.”
That sentence stayed with him longer than it should have. Because that was exactly it. People like Mark weren’t supposed to end up in places like this. He was supposed to keep functioning, keep doing well in life, keep smiling at the right moments, and saying he was fine until eventually maybe he actually became fine again.
Instead he’d ended up here.
The residential hallway was warmer than the others somehow. Maybe it's because the lights weren’t as bright. There were twelve doors total, six on each side, and it looked strangely normal. Almost like student housing.
“Your roommate’s already been here a while,” Dr. Lee said as they stopped outside one of the rooms. “His name is Donghyuck.”
Mark nodded quietly.
Donghyuck.
Mark repeated the name in his head once, mostly so he wouldn’t forget it the second he walked into the room.
“He doesn’t really speak,” the doctor continued carefully.
“Oh, uh,” Mark looked down at the floor for a second. “That’s okay. I’m not exactly great at talking either..”
That made Dr. Lee smile a little. The room number read E-12. Beneath it, a small nameplate already had both their names printed neatly beside each other:
Mark Lee / Donghyuck Lee
Seeing his own name there made his stomach twist.
Finally, Dr. Lee pushed the door open slowly, stepping aside to let Mark enter first. The room was certainly warmer than the hallway; that was the first thing Mark noticed. This room smelled faintly like detergent and tea and something sweeter underneath it, maybe fabric softener. The lights were dim instead of painfully bright, soft yellow spilling across the wooden floor and the gray walls.
For a second, Mark just stood there. The room looked relatively normal with two beds on opposite sides, and desks beside each one. It also had shelves built into the walls filled with books and random little objects that made the space feel lived in instead of temporary. Another hoodie hung off the back of a chair, and a half empty water bottle sat beside a sketchbook.
It really looked like a dorm room, not a psychiatric facility.
Something about that made Mark feel uneasy again. Because if the room looked this normal, then maybe there really was no dramatic line between sick people and everybody else. Maybe people just simply ended up here without realizing how bad things had gotten until someone else finally said it out loud for them. Mark felt like a crazy person even coming there, but upon his arrival, he realized, maybe he wasn't as crazy as he thought himself as.
Trying to shrug off his endless thoughts, his eyes moved automatically toward the other side of the room.
And then he saw him.
The boy sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed looked up slowly when they entered, almost like he had already known they were coming and had been waiting for the sound of the door. Mark forgot how to breathe for a second.
He's pretty.
The thought came so suddenly it embarrassed him immediately after. The boy was wearing an oversized dark hoodie that nearly swallowed him whole, sleeves pulled over most of his hands, dark sweatpants loose around his legs. His hair was a deep dark brown, messy, soft dark strands falling over his forehead and partially shadowing his eyes.
His face– Mark couldn’t stop staring at it. Warm tan skin, smooth except for faint tiredness beneath his eyes. Full lips, slightly parted; he looked like someone you’d see leaning against the back wall at a party, quiet, while everybody else got louder around him.
And his eyes– God. They were dark, not empty though, and that was the strange part. Mark had expected to see empty, numb, distant faces. But Donghyuck’s eyes didn’t look empty at all. There was something nervous in them though, something tired and almost frightened buried so deep most people probably wouldn’t notice it.
“Donghyuck,” Dr. Lee said gently, “your new roommate’s here.”
The boy's gaze shifted toward the doctor briefly before landing back on Mark. It only lasted maybe two seconds, but still, Mark felt weirdly exposed under it.
“This is Mark,” Dr. Lee continued softly. “He’ll be staying with you from now on. We talked about this before, remember?”
Donghyuck gave a small nod.
Mark swallowed hard. “Hi,” he tried approaching, but Donghyuck blinked once slowly, and only gave another tiny nod.
His movements were strangely quiet, almost too controlled, like he’d learned to make himself smaller over time. Even the way he sat looked careful, shoulders slightly hunched inside the oversized hoodie, fingers hidden beneath the sleeves except for the tips.
Mark wondered immediately how long he’d been here. Weeks? Months? What happened to him? Why was someone like him here?
“He’s selectively mute,” Dr. Lee suddenly murmured quietly beside him, only so Mark could hear him, probably noticing his confusion. “Speaking is pretty difficult for him, so please try to be a bit understanding.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” Mark looked down awkwardly.
“He communicates in other ways, though” Dr. Lee said quietly beside him. “He’s very sweet once he’s comfortable.”
Sweet.
Mark glanced at him again. Donghyuck had lowered his gaze already, fingers absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on his sleeve. He had pretty hands too, which was a ridiculous thing to notice right now.
Mark looked away quickly before he could stare longer. But his mind kept moving anyway.
Selectively mute. Had he always been like this? Or had something happened to make him stop talking? Something bad enough to silence a person completely? Is that even possible? Mark couldn’t imagine it.
No, that wasn’t true. He could imagine it too easily.
His eyes drifted back toward Donghyuck before he could stop himself. Up close, the tiredness in his face became even more obvious. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes like he hadn’t slept properly in a long time, and despite how pretty he was, there was something fragile about him too.
"There’s a group session starting in about an hour,” Dr. Lee said, glancing at Mark again. “You can join if you want to, but you don't necessarily have to. Most people wait a day or two.”
Mark barely heard what the doctor had said since his attention magically kept drifting back toward Donghyuck.
There was a tiny mole near the corner of his mouth, and another one right under his eye, and the longer he looked at the boy, the more moles could he spot. His lips looked soft, naturally pink against his tan skin, pressed together faintly like he was holding words back even now. Did he want to speak? Or had he stopped wanting to a long time ago?
Mark suddenly became painfully aware of himself standing there staring. He looked away quickly, heat creeping up his neck. What was wrong with him? He’d been here less than five minutes and he was already sitting there analyzing the face of some stranger.
Still, there was something about Donghyuck that pulled attention naturally.
Dr. Lee watched him for a moment before stepping a little closer, holding out a folded sheet of paper.
“This is your intake summary and room assignment,” he said gently. “Basic information, schedule overview, things like that. You’ll probably need it over the next couple of days.”
Mark nodded quietly, taking it and glancing down at it once before folding it neatly and holding onto it without really reading it yet.
After another few quiet instructions, Dr. Lee finally stepped back toward the door. “I’ll let you both settle in,” he said gently. “Staff are available at all hours if you need something. And don't forget, dinner starts at six.”
Mark gave a small nod, mumbling a "thank you" he wasn't even sure was heard.
And then he was gone. The door clicked shut softly behind him, and that's when silence settled over the room immediately. Neither of them spoke, and Mark’s heartbeat suddenly felt embarrassingly loud. What was he supposed to do now? Introduce himself properly? Sit down? Pretend this wasn’t incredibly awkward? He glanced over again before he could stop himself. Donghyuck had lowered his gaze, fingers lightly twisting the sleeve covering his hand.
“I’ll... take this bed, I guess.”
Donghyuck looked up again. For one tiny second, their eyes met properly. Close up, his eyes looked even more tired than Mark first realized. Then Donghyuck nodded once more.
Mark walked toward the empty bed and dropped his bag beside it, sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. He then risked another glance across the room, noticing that Donghyuck was indeed still watching him. But the second he noticed Mark looking back, his eyes dropped toward his hands again almost immediately. And suddenly Mark wondered something else. Was Donghyuck scared too? Not of him specifically, but just scared in general. Because Mark could almost feel immediately that there was something deeply anxious about him.
Trying to focus on something else, he opened his bag, and started with the simple things first, folding a few shirts and placing them onto the desk beside his bed. He didn't need to unpack much yet, so he focused on the things he might need throughout the day, including a toothbrush, a charger, and a book he hadn’t finished for weeks because concentration had started slipping away from him lately.
When he was done unpacking, there wasn’t much left to do. The bag sat half open on the bed beside him, and Mark stared at it for a moment before closing it and pushing it aside.
“So, uhm,” he said eventually, “how long have you been here?”
Donghyuck slowly looked up at that, and for a moment he just held Mark’s gaze, his expression being rather unreadable. The boy didn't seem to had expected a question. But soon enough, he lifted one hand and showed three fingers. Mark just stared at it, trying to assign meaning to it that made sense. Three days didn’t feel right. Three weeks seemed too short for the way he acted. Three months suddenly felt more likely, but even that didn't feel completely right. But three years; could you really spend that much time at this place?
Donghyuck lowered his hand again before Mark could ask anything else, returning it to his sleeve where his fingers resumed small movements along the fabric.
Mark nodded slightly, even though he didn’t really understand the answer. “Okay,” he said quietly, because there wasn’t anything better to say without unintentionally pushing the other. He looked around the room again instead, observing the desk, the plant on the windowsill, and the light coming through the curtains.
After a while, he shifted on the bed and reached for his jacket, slipping it on slowly. “I think I’ll go walk around a bit,” he mumbled eventually, more to himself than to the other person in the room, but nevertheless, Donghyuck gave a small nod in response, the same way he had before.
Mark left the room without saying anything else, closing the door behind him.
The clinic courtyard was quieter than he expected. A few staff members stood at intervals, and a nurse passed him and offered a small smile. He wasn’t used to spaces where no one expected anything from him immediately. It made him uneasy in a way he couldn’t fully explain, because his life up until now had always felt like a sequence of expectations; school, family, even casual conversations where he was already halfway into guessing what the other person wanted from him before they said it.
Here it seemed like there was none of that pressure sitting on his shoulders, and instead of feeling free, it left him kind of unsure what to do with himself.
As he walked further in, he noticed a boy waving from a bench near the center of the courtyard. For a second, Mark didn't know whether it was him who he had waved to.
“Hey!”
Mark hesitated for half a second before raising his hand in response. The boy stood quickly and crossed the distance between them with an energy that felt almost out of place here. He looked around Mark’s age, maybe a little younger, with soft light-brown hair falling slightly over his forehead in loose, messy strands. His face was youthful and a bit rounded, and his eyes were bright and expressive. When he smiled, his cheekbones stood out a little more, and his whole expression turned brighter.
“You’re new here, right?”
Mark simply nodded.
“I’m Chenle,” the boy said, offering his hand without hesitation.
Mark took it carefully. “Mark.”
“Nice to meet you, Mark.” Chenle grinned as if this was already a good thing. “I’m from China, so if I say something weird later on, don't be too surprised. My brain sometimes switches languages without me noticing.”
Mark let out a small breath that might have been a laugh if it had gone further. “I’ll, uh.. keep that in mind.”
“Good,” Chenle said, satisfied. Then, after a beat, he tilted his head. “So, is it your first day? I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Just arrived actually..”
“Oh. Well, the first day's always the hardest one,” Chenle said.
“It’s weird,” Mark admitted. “It’s like… nothing is happening, but it still feels like too much is happening. And I've only been around here for like an hour so..”
Chenle nodded quickly, like he understood exactly what that meant. “Yeah. That’s a good way to put it, actually. For me, I threw up twenty minutes after I arrived because I was so nervous. Definitely wasn't a good first impression. You should've seen my roommates face watching me hunched over a toilet."
He sighed before continuing, " Oh, but, don't worry too much, it’s going to get better the next few days, I promise. ”
How reassuring.
There was a short pause, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Chenle shifted slightly on his feet, then gestured toward the building behind them.
“Want me to show you around a bit? It’s easier when you know where things are. Less getting lost in your head while you’re physically getting lost too.”
That earned a faint smile from Mark before he could stop it. Even though he was just shown around by doctor Lee, he couldn't get himself to downplay the suggestion. “Uh, yeah. That would help a lot, thank you...”
“Cool, let's go then.”
They moved through the clinic at a rather slow pace. Chenle walked slightly ahead but always checked if Mark was following, occasionally pointing things out as they went.
Mark didn’t say much. He just took it in as they went, the long corridors, the quiet rooms passing by. He found himself slowing down, like his body was starting to match the pace of the place before his mind really had a chance to decide anything.
“That’s the art therapy room,” Chenle said at one point, nodding toward a bright space filled with paint, paper, and half-finished projects. “People either love it or avoid it completely.”
“And you?” Mark asked.
Chenle shrugged. “Depends on the day. Sometimes I go in because Jisung wants to paint something, but I'm not a total fan of art myself.”
Mark thought for a moment, then decided to ask anyway, "Jisung?"
The Chinese moved his head towards the other, noticing the slight confusion etched on his face. "Oh, right, sorry, Jisung’s my roommate."
Mark hummed in acknowledgment, glad he didn't just accidentally not remember something the younger had mentioned to him before. They walked a little further before Chenle slowed near a window, looking out at the courtyard.
“You know, this place has a lot of different stuff going on,” he said more quietly now. “PTSD, depression, anxiety… eating disorders, bipolar disorder. Stuff like that.”
Mark nodded, feeling suddenly more aware of his own presence in the list, even if he hadn’t said where he belonged yet. After a moment, Chenle glanced sideways at him.
"What about you?”
What a great timing.
The question wasn't completely invasive, but Mark still hesitated because he always feared being judged for his disorder. He had never been able to talk about it openly. Partly because he was terrified people would underestimate it, and brush it off as a phase, or tell him he was overreacting. But mostly because nobody in his life was used to seeing Mark struggle. To them, he was the reliable one, the smart one, the one who always had everything under control. Mark and falling apart simply didn't belong in the same sentence.
So, he had learned to keep it to himself, burying the worst parts where nobody could see them. And now someone was standing across from him, actively asking about it.
Fuck it. It can't get any worse, can it?
“It may sound a bit, uh.. strange or something, but I have... insomnia,” he said finally.
Chenle blinked, then his expression shifted into something almost surprised. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s wild because.. me too.” Chenle said
For a moment, they just looked at each other, as if that single shared detail created a bridge neither of them had expected. Mark blinked. That was it? He definitely expected something else, like a weird look, awkward silence or some "have you tried sleeping earlier?" or "everyone has trouble sleeping sometimes."
But no. It was just a simple "Me too."
Something about it caught Mark off guard. He had spent so long expecting people to either dismiss his struggles or turn them into something dramatic that he hadn't considered a third option; someone might simply understanding. It felt strangely easy, almost too easy.
Not easy enough to tell Chenle everything, obviously. But easy enough that the tight knot in his chest loosened a little.
Chenle added, “People.. they always think it’s just about sleep, but it’s not really that simple.”
Mark nodded slowly, slightly smiling, feelig reassured once more. “It isn’t.”
Chenle gave him a quick, knowing look. “Yeah. It really isn’t.”
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Mark stared down at his hands before letting out a small breath. "I didn't really expect this."
Chenle tilted his head. "Expect what?"
"This." Mark gestured vaguely between them. "Talking to someone who actually gets it. It's just that I've never really met anyone else with insomnia before."
Chenle's expression softened slightly. "Neither have I."
Silence settled between them for a moment. Then Mark spoke again, "You know. I.. uh, well, just... nevermind, this is going to sound really cheesy."
"Now you have to," Chenle spoke, mischief glistening in his eyes.
Mark rolled his eyes before looking back down at his hands. "I was just going to say...I guess it's nice not being the only one struggling with it."
Chenle's teasing expression faded a little. "Oh."
"Not because I'm happy you have insomnia, though.. I didn't mean it like that," Mark added quickly.
That earned a laugh. "Good save."
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
Mark shook his head, already feeling embarrassed. "It's just... when people hear about it, they don't really get it. They think it's just staying up too late or having trouble sleeping every now and then. So it's nice talking to someone who already understands what it's actually like."
For a moment, Chenle just looked at him. Then he smiled slightly. "That was cheesy."
Mark groaned. "I knew it."
"But," Chenle continued, shrugging, "I get it."
Something warm settled in Mark's chest at that.
"At least now when someone tells me to drink lavender tea, I'll have a witness."
Mark laughed, "Oh my god."
"I'm serious."
"Has someone actually told you that?"
"My aunt."
"Of course it was an aunt."
"It was absolutely an aunt."
They continued walking, but after a few turns, Chenle reached into Mark’s hand without warning, gently taking the folded treatment sheet the older still held tightly.
“Can I see?”
Mark wordlessly handed it over. Chenle scanned it quickly, eyes moving across the page. Then his expression brightened.
“Oh,” he said. “Look, we’re in the same group sessions.”
Mark’s head lifted slightly. “Really?”
“Yeah, seems like it,” Chenle confirmed, handing it back. “That’s actually good. Means you’ll at least see one familiar face.”
At least he wasn't completely alone then.
Chenle smiled. “Well, now you’ve got someone.”
Mark tucked the paper back into his pocket. “Thanks, seriously. I really appreciate it.”
Chenle shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, then walked a few steps ahead before glancing back again.
“You’ll get used to it here. Eventually.”
“That sounds suspiciously unconvincing.”
“It is,” Chenle admitted, which made Mark huff a quiet laugh.
They reached the recreation room next. It was certainly brighter than the rest of the clinic, filled with board games, books, and other things you could use to spend your time. At one of the tables, one boy sat, carefully threading small beads onto a string.
Chenle’s voice dropped slightly. “Oh, he’s here.”
Mark's brows furrowed. Who's here?
The boy looked up as they entered.
Black hair framed his face, almost long enough to brush his shoulders when he moved. He looked fragile somehow, with delicate, doll-like features and a narrow frame that made him seem younger than he probably was. But there was a sharpness in his eyes as well that didn't fit the rest of him, something alert and observant.
A small bead was still pinched between his fingers, forgotten halfway onto the string.
For a second, he simply stared.
Then he lowered his gaze back to the bracelet in his lap and continued threading the beads together with careful movements.
His gaze landed on Mark, then softened into a small smile. “You’re new,” he said simply, like he didn’t need confirmation.
Chenle shifted slightly beside him, and the two of them instinctively stepped closer to the table Renjun was sitting at.
“Yeah,” Mark replied. “It's my first day."
Without another word, he picked up a bracelet from the table and held it out. “Here.”
Mark blinked. “For me?”
“Yes.” The boy shrugged faintly. “I like making them. Keeps me busy.”
Mark stepped closer and took it carefully. The threads were slightly uneven, and since they were handmade it feel even more personal.
“Thank you,” Mark said quietly.
The boy nodded once with a smile etched on his face, already turning back to his beads.
“Oh, and.. I’m Mark,” he added after a moment.
“Renjun,” the boy replied without looking up.
Mark slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. It hung a little loose, but he didn’t adjust it.
“It suits you,” Chenle said softly beside him.
Mark gave a small, almost absent smile, glancing back at Renjun, who was already focused on his beads again. The way he worked was precise, steady, and oddly calming to watch. But then Renjun seemed to notice them still looking. His hands slowed for a second, and he lifted his gaze again, this time with a hint of uncertainty creeping in.
"Is it.. not okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, in a way that suggested he was already bracing for rejection.
Mark was caught slightly off guard by the question and quickly shook his head. “No, no, it’s not that. I just.. I’m not used to people giving me things, I guess.” He hesitated for a moment before adding more honestly, “But I like it. I really do.”
Something in Renjun’s expression loosened immediately at that. His shoulders dropped slightly, and a small smile returned, more genuine this time.
“Oh,” he said softly. “I’m glad you like it then.”
For a second, it seemed like that would be the end of it, but then Renjun straightened slightly, indicating he still had something to say.
“Oh, and did you know…” he began, his eyes flicking back down to the beads as his words started to pick up speed, “these are actually made from recycled glass, and I usually sort them by color first, but sometimes the blue ones are slightly different shades so I have to check them twice, and one bracelet usually takes me around forty-five minutes, which, well, may sound like a lot, but the longer you've been doing this the faster you get, so this is actually not that much since, and–” He stopped abruptly mid-sentence, his fingers freezing over the beads as if he had only just realized how much he was saying.
There was a short pause where he didn’t look up, and when he finally did, his expression had shifted into something more self-conscious. He cleared his throat a little. “Sorry. I must be boring you.”
“No, no, you're not, it’s... your words are.. they're not boring me,” Mark said quickly.
Chenle nodded beside him as well, adding a simple, “Yeah, it’s fine, don't worry too much about it, Renjun.”
Renjun looked between them for a moment, still a little unsure, like he was trying to decide whether they really meant it or were just being polite.
“Really?”
“Really,” Mark repeated, a bit softer this time.
Renjun let out a small breath and gave a faint nod at that before turning back to his beads, though he was still a little more careful now, like he was holding himself just slightly tighter than before.
After a moment, Chenle shifted beside Mark, tapping him on the shoulder. “We should probably go.”
Mark agreed to that, though his eyes lingered on the bracelet on his wrist for a second longer than necessary before he turned back to Renjun.
“It was nice meeting you,” he said.
“Me too,” Renjun replied, looking up once more. His smile returned, but this time it carried something softer underneath it, something that didn’t quite match the brightness of the room.
“I hope you… find some comfort here.”
The words hung in the air a little heavier than they should have been for something said so casually. Mark didn’t fully understand why, but something about the way Renjun said it made his chest tighten slightly, like there was meaning there he wasn’t quite catching yet.
Before he could ask, Chenle had already nudged him gently toward the door, and they were moving again, leaving the room and Renjun’s quiet voice behind them.
Chenle let out a sigh as they walked. “Renjun’s been here a while. He has bipolar disorder, and right now he seems to be in one of his stable phases, so he’s… like that."
"Like that?" Mark tilted his head.
"You know, calm, focused, motivated, all smiley. He's not always like that."
Mark glanced back briefly through the glass door. “He seemed… peaceful, though.”
“Yeah, he is, at least mist of the time,” Chenle said. “When he’s stable, he creates things, he's in a good mood, but when he’s not…” He paused. “It’s difficult to describe. You’ll probably see it at some point.”
Mark nodded slowly. “He seems like a good person, though”
“He is,” Chenle said. “He really is.."
They walked a few more steps in silence before Chenle spoke again. “Session starts soon. You wanna join?”
Mark’s stomach tightened.
“Oh, uh, I wasn’t told about that yet.”
“You definitely were, nobody avoids the conversation of the first session,” Chenle corrected gently. “It was probably just… too much information at once.”
How great.
He gestured for Mark to follow. “You don't have to join us today, but it could be a great start, you know? It might make you feel less anxious. Come on. I’ll go with you.”
Mark looked down at the bracelet on his wrist again, then at the hallway ahead, and followed. "Fine. Let's just get this over with then."
Chenle put a reassuring hand on the other's shoulder, saying, "Good choice, Mark. I promise it's not as bad as it sounds. We're a pretty friendly group, really. And.. you'd have to get through this tomorrow anyway, so it's not that much of a deal, right?"
Mark hummed. "I guess you're right."
Here goes nothing.