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Jaemin can’t help that he’s observant.
His mind is constantly on the go—running with ideas he can’t help from spiralling. There’s rarely a second where he could sit and not think about something, even if he appears completely still on the outside. There are days when his wandering mind comes in handy. He could keep himself entertained for hours on end without having to stop, constantly finding something interesting to keep himself occupied with before eventually, something more important is entrusted to him and he’s found another thing to be preoccupied with.
But then there are days when his head gets heavier than usual and a hot shower and warm food can’t fix it. There are days when he lays in a dark room for hours on end and the thoughts sit with him, unable to leave him as they spiral into more giant waves—large enough to threaten him with the speed at which they’re travelling—barrelling towards him with a ferocity that leaves him cowering.
On days like this, Renjun comes to him in a golden light. Whether his figure is bathed in the yellow glow his lampshades offer late at night, or the morning light that floods through the crevices of his curtains—Renjun is there all the same.
1.
Jaemin drags himself out of bed at the knock of his door—but not without his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The winter chill found its way down his spine and he refuses to take another step out of bed without something warm around him.
He pulls the door open only to see a tuft of brown hair drowning in a white puffer jacket, a drink stretched out toward him. Jaemin’s lips twitches in a smile at the sight.
“I thought you were busy today?” He moves aside to let Renjun in, spotting his red nose poking out from under the scarf wrapped around his neck.
“Class got cancelled,” He drops down to the couch in a huff. “And you sounded upset over text.”
“All I texted back was, ‘Ok.’”
Renjun rolls his eyes, “Yeah and I know you.” He raises his eyebrows toward the drink in Jaemin’s hand, condensing in his palm. “Got your usual.”
“I have a usual?”
Renjun doesn’t bother answering as he props his feet up on the coffee table. He shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over his lap as he reaches for the remote. Being friends with Renjun is easy like this. He would make a space for himself in your life, dig a little deeper each time until his presence was large enough that you’d feel the depth of his absence in your life.
Jaemin takes a sip of his drink. Iced peach tea with significantly less sugar than he preferred. It was his new substitute for the Americanos he’s been consuming as a way to cut down on his excessive caffeine dependency. He doesn’t remember mentioning it to Renjun.
Jaemin doesn’t have a usual but now he does.
2.
Everything about his day started off wrongly.
He’d forgotten to reply to an important email the night before and was all out of soap in the shower. Which was minuscule in the grand scheme of things given that he had much bigger things to worry about in the world besides petty inconveniences so he let it slide.
But from then on, he couldn’t miss the little inconsequential things that had only made his day worse. He was out of coffee and hadn’t stocked on groceries so there was close to nothing to eat for breakfast when he was already running late for class. And only when he stopped by the cafe next to his campus 5 minutes before class, did he realise he had forgotten his wallet and cash back at home
On days like this, he would often make a mental list of all the things that made him happy; his yellow jacket, sandwiches for brunch, his favourite pair of worn-out sneakers, and the smell of daffodils as he walked past the flower shop near his campus. He would repeat them in his mind and carry them out in hopes that it was a mistake on his part—that he wasn’t sad, just mildly bothered and that this feeling would pass as quickly as it appeared.
But when he exhausted every option that left his mind even more scattered than it was before, he only knew how to admit defeat. He knew when to pull back and fold into himself—when to come up with a poorly thought out excuse as to why he couldn’t join his friends for a movie night and instead retreat back into his small apartment like a recluse.
He didn’t mind it.
And that was all he could tell himself as his head hit his pillow and his soft sheets crumpled beneath his weight. He would cry if he had enough energy to do so. But he didn’t so he lay there and stared at his ceiling fan until he exhausted himself to sleep.
He woke with a sudden jolt only an hour later at the sound of the soft knocks at his front door.
He’s too groggy to process the fact that Renjun is standing before him when he swings the door wide open. An unsuspecting yawn finds itself bubbling in his throat.
“What are you doing here?” He asks after he stares at him for a moment as Renjun walks past him to grab his favourite yellow jacket and the house keys that pooled at the bottom of a poorly painted bowl they both made from a toy clay set. “I thought you were at movie night.”
“I’m getting you out of the house,”
“Renjun,” Jaemin twists his hand out of his grasp when warm fingers wrap around his wrist. Deep down, he wishes he didn’t let go. All day, it had been the only thing that grounded him and made him feel less like he was ready to float into nothingness. “I really don’t want to go anywhere.”
There are times when he is thankful for Renjun’s stubbornness—times like this.
Renjun’s hand circled his wrist again, much softer now. “Just trust me. Please?”
Jaemin doesn’t know why he tried in the first place. He can never say no to the squeeze of his heart.
It was a long walk and it was cold out but after a few minutes, he could recognise the path they were walking on. He had memorised it over the years when he would have his lunch by the lake and watch the ducks squabble over each other. He hadn’t been here in some time.
They find a nearby bench and Jaemin tucks his cold hands into his jacket as they sit down.
For a long time, Renjun didn’t speak. And then he did.
The words that left his lips make Jaemin’s gaze shift from the lake to his face, and then subconsciously to his lips.
“You should have told me,” he says.
“About what?”
“You had a bad day,”
It didn’t catch him off-guard that Renjun knew. If Jaemin was observant, then Renjun was just as tentative. But he sighs nonetheless like they’ve had this conversation a million times over.
“It wasn’t-” Jaemin starts as if he’d known how the sentence would end. “It’s not important. Everyone has bad days. I was fine. I didn’t want to ruin the mood for everyone by looking like I didn’t want to be there.”
He didn’t. He only wants to be back home, curled in his bed and regretting his mistakes. Instead, he’s here with Renjun feeling guilty that he was making him miss movie night when the rest of their friend group was just as busy.
He watches the way the soft skin between Renjun’s brows wrinkled as he frowns. Jaemin would tease him all the time for looking a little grumpy even when he doesn’t mean to. But he never liked seeing Renjun be genuinely upset.
“Don’t say things that make it sound like you’re a burden,” Renjun’s frown deepens, “because you’re not. And you’ll never ruin my day just because you were upset about something, no matter how small.”
Jaemin doesn’t mean to stare but he’s a creature of habit, so he starts with Renjun’s lips. It was always his lips. Jaemin likes them the most (not in a weird way, at least he hopes it isn’t). It’s just because it was the only part of him that was most expressive. He can tell the shift in Renjun’s mood merely by the twitch of his lips.
If he was upset and eager to mask it, the far-right edge of his lips would be downturned while the left edge of his lips would turn upwards—in some silly attempt to hide behind his kind eyes. It never works on Jaemin, he was observant after all. And if Renjun was upset and wanted it to show, his entire lip would press into a firm line until it drops entirely, into a deep frown that eclipsed his entire face.
Right now, Jaemin is staring directly at it. It was a serious conversation, he knew it was. Renjun’s piercing eyes say it all. But Jaemin can’t let the image of his cute frown sandwiched between his two red cheeks escape him. It’s cold out like it usually was and Renjun’s cheeks are flushed from the wind. At least that’s what Jaemin thinks it is. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he learned that Renjun’s cheeks are flushed for a completely different reason.
“I’m sorry,” he says because that was all he could say at the moment. It’s an easy reply. A cowardly reply.
But Renjun never let up. He never did.
“Don’t say sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
‘Sorry’ is on the tip of his tongue again before he stops himself.
“I’ll talk to you the next time it happens.”
It’s a small promise, but it was enough for now. It’s enough for him to watch the smile bloom on Renjun’s face as if he swallowed the sun alive and kept it hidden in his chest as a secret. His cheeks grow a darker shade and this time, Jaemin does not miss it—couldn’t even if he tried. Everything about Renjun is so much and too little at the same time, he can’t look away even with his best attempts.
So Jaemin smiles back at him, his thumb rubbing the back of Renjun’s palm to let him know that he is serious, even though he knows it was going to keep happening. He can try but there will always be days when he’ll want to shut the rest of the world out. But he also knows that Renjun will be there every time to knock on his door and force his presence on him, blinding enough that it digs the doubt and absence in his chest—fills it with honeyed looks and kind smiles and playful affection.
On his walk back home, Jaemin realises he had forgotten one last thing on his mental list of favourite things that made him happy. He forgot Renjun.
3.
Jaemin straightens his back, only to feel the knots dig even further into his spine. It generates a sort of sensation that shoots up his back with electricity. He groans in agony.
“That’s your third groan in a row under 2 minutes,” Renjun says, his eyes still fixed on his Macbook, typing incessantly and deleting and typing again. STEM majors, Jaemin thinks. Always with their observations and snide commentary.
“Why are you counting how many times I groaned, creep?” Jaemin shoots back, only to be ignored by Renjun. But he doesn’t miss the twitch of amusement on his lips.
“It’s my mattress,” he whines, a scowl appearing on his face at the thought of that old flabby excuse of a mattress he’s been sleeping on for years now. He hates that he’s somehow formed an attachment to it—like most people would with trinkets and inanimate objects. That poor thing has endured countless relationships and hook-ups, both good and bad. “It’s so stiff, the last time I flipped it was like 2 years ago.”
“Then flip it,” Renjun replies nonchalantly, taking a sip out of his coffee before frowning. Either too bitter or too sweet. The barista never seems to get it right but the cafe was close to the campus and at this point, it was routine to stop by between classes.
“I can’t,” Jaemin grumbles, moving his shoulder in circular motions to relieve the pain in his muscles. He should have just slept on the couch at this point. “It’s way too heavy. Even my ex and I used to struggle flipping it over. It’s a two-man job.”
“I can help you if it’s that bad.”
Jaemin gives him a funny look. “What? And have you throw your back out, old man?”
Renjun finally gives him a look, a glare with too much bark and no bite. “I’m stronger than you think. Plus I’ve been going to the gym with Jeno.”
“The gym meetups where you guys get hotpot afterwards and completely beat the purpose of going to a gym?”
Renjun returns to the screen in front of him without a remark and Jaemin smiles satisfyingly knowing he’d at least managed to tease him. He makes a mental note to call Jeno for help instead.
He’d done it as soon as he got home and flopped on the bed, only to feel it dip in awkward places and stay stiff in others. Jaemin fishes out his phone and finds Jeno’s name a few ways down his contact list before he sends a quick message.
Jeno responds minutes later with a few replies, mostly going off track before saying that the only time he was available to drop by is after class on Monday. Big project :( sorry dude, Jaemin reads aloud as he drags his body to sink into the couch instead. It’ll take a whole week to get to Monday and Jaemin doesn’t think his already terrible posture can take any more stiff nights on that mattress. But it is what it is, so he falls asleep on the couch that night.
A few days later, in the middle of a 2-hour lecture, Renjun sends him an unusual text. got dinner for you from that one Thai place u liked, ok if i use the spare key to get inside?
It wasn’t the fact that Renjun had gone out of his way to drop by at random times of the day, that was normal. It was the fact that he asked. He knew exactly where Jaemin kept the spare key to his apartment (under that god-ugly rainbow welcome mat Donghyuck had gotten him as a housewarming gift as a joke). And Renjun never hesitated to use it whenever he liked.
But after an hour of listening to his professor babble on about Intermediate Microeconomics, his brain is half-fried and too muddled to figure Renjun out. He types back an Ok and goes back to staring at the large clock in the hall, hoping that if he glares at it long enough, time would start speeding up on its own.
It didn’t and he sat there for the remaining hour, wondering if Renjun would have left by now or if he’d wait long enough for them to eat dinner together. His food is probably soggy by now but it wouldn’t have mattered if Renjun was still there.
He finds out when he unlocks his front door and walks in on Renjun sitting cross-legged on his couch, flipping through notes with a headband pulling his bangs back—revealing his forehead. Jaemin really can’t stop the little chuckle that escapes past him. Renjun looks domestic and at home and it feels so right to be greeted by the sight of him the moment he gets back. The thought of this being something he isn’t allowed to have left a bitter taste in his mouth, something too close to bile and that aftertaste of burning your tongue on something hot.
He ignores it in favour of watching Renjun’s attention shift from his notebooks and laptop to Jaemin at the front door—watches his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, even if he tries to mask it with thinly veiled coolness.
“You’re back,” he breathes out, “food’s in the microwave.”
Jaemin waddles into the kitchen, hearing rustling as Renjun trails behind him. He appears more animated than usual today, bouncing on the soles of his feet with each step he takes, like a child withholding a secret. His radiance is practically jumping off the walls, so intense that Jaemin feels the tiredness seep out of his bones to be replaced by immeasurable fondness.
He takes his pad thai out of the microwave before deciding it was too big of a portion for one and splits it into two bowls, gives one to Renjun who smiles sweetly as he accepts.
“What did you do all day?”
“Nothing much. I finished class and went straight to that Thai restaurant then right here afterwards. I was gonna watch a show on your HBO account but browsed for too long that I got bored and started studying,” Renjun yawns, claiming his spot on the floor so he could prop his bowl atop the coffee table as he ate.
Jaemin settles behind him on the couch, sitting cross-legged like he was minutes ago.
“Oh,” Renjun says after taking his first bite, “I also flipped your mattress for you.”
Jaemin’s mouth hangs open mid-bite in an awkward, comedic way. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so shocked. “You,” he stutters, “you did what? With who?”
“By myself.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Renjun gives him an incredulous look with his eyes turning into slits like crescent moons. “I told you I was stronger than you think. It really wasn’t heavy at all.”
Jaemin scoffs. A part of him is slightly impressed with Renjun’s conviction and stubbornness to go through with it and the other half of him felt his bruised ego swelling up inside of him. Maybe he needed to start going to a gym himself.
“Plus, I chugged like two Mountain Dews on my way here to cram for my test tomorrow, I think I can carry a cow bridal style if I wanted to.”
“Why would you ever want that.”
“I said ‘if’.”
Jaemin falls asleep that night the moment his head hits the pillow and squirms around his plush mattress. It’s soft against his sensitive spine and dips in all the right places. A small, silent part of him wished Renjun was beside him, laying in bed so they could bask in comfort together. But he had left after they ate to study for his test and Jaemin was too much of a coward to ask him to stay.
The tips of his hand itched when he closed the door behind him.
4.
When Christmas rolls around, Jaemin is alone.
It’s by choice, as much as he doesn’t want it to be. But his mother had left for Dubai that week for an important business trip and he had turned down Renjun’s offer to spend the holiday in China with the rest of his extended family. It was his first time back home after 3 years and Jaemin didn’t want to take his attention away from that. He would never tell Renjun that of course. Renjun was kind to a fault at times and Jaemin has learned to take matters into his own hands when necessary.
So he settles for hour-long video calls on Christmas Eve and opening presents together on Christmas morning like little children with their phones propped up against a cup.
Jaemin made an effort this year to get him an expensive bag he noticed Renjun had been eyeing for quite some time and Renjun had bought him a record player after he had gone back and forth about getting one for so long.
He visited the local record store the next day and bought the first album he and Renjun listened to together.
When Renjun returns the following week, he crashes onto Jaemin’s couch and doesn’t get back up until they’ve burned through 5 movies and emptied the fridge, throwing a tiny feast on Jaemin’s coffee table as if they hadn’t seen each other for an entire year instead of a week.
“Oh, open my backpack,” Renjun mumbles as he licks ice cream off his spoon. Then off his fingers. Jaemin thinks he’d find it disgusting if it were anyone else, but it’s Renjun and so it fills him with laughable fondness. If he was braver, he would reach out to wipe the smudge of vanilla at the edge of Renjun’s lips. But he doesn’t.
“What’s in it–” the words die in his mouth when he zips the backpack open and finds a chocolate bar on top of piles of folded clothes. “Chocolate?”
“Not just any chocolate,” Renjun grabs them from his hand with sticky fingers slicked with spit. Again, Jaemin should find it gross. He really should. He can’t understand why he doesn’t.
“Do you remember when I told you my grandma used to give me those chocolates when I was a kid?”
“I thought you said they don’t sell those anymore.”
Renjun is tearing the packaging open with his now dried (less stickier) hands and breaks the bar in half. “I found a little shop that still does. Here,” he hands Jaemin half a bar. “I wanted to try them with you.”
Jaemin accepts willingly with his brows pinched forward. “You waited to try them with me?”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Renjun nudges Jaemin’s hand away as he takes a bite. Jaemin doesn’t miss the way Renjun’s cheeks glow pink at the question. He takes a bite before Renjun can notice his own cheeks start to heat up.
It’s stupid and simple and such a Renjun thing to do that it’s ridiculous that Jaemin still gets shy at little acts of affection like this. He should be accustomed to it by now. This was just Renjun’s way of doing things but in all the years of their friendship, Jaemin has never gotten used to it. He doesn’t think he ever will. He’s afraid he’ll miss the chance to get used to it before it fades away.
And he’s afraid he’ll end up so weak with Renjun’s affection and unspoken acts of love that when it’s taken from him, he won’t know what to do with the absence of it all. He will scoop his chest and find nothing.
“Is it sweet?” Renjun asks. A small, waiting smile is on his lips.
Jaemin runs his eyes over them, then to his cheeks, then down the slope of his perfect nose and the scar over his eyebrow from that one time they fell off the swings when they were children. And he is hit by this surge of light in his chest that feels like it’s growing twice in size with every breath he takes. It’s something sacred that he can’t speak of and never wants to stop speaking about at the same time.
He realises his love for Renjun feels a lot like yellow. Sacred, warm and sweet in his mouth like melting nectar.
“Yes,” he smiles. “It’s very sweet.”
When Renjun smiles back, he feels the sun in his chest.
+ 1
Renjun crashes at his apartment the same night after complaining about being too tired to walk back home. Jaemin lets him because of course he does. When has he ever been good at denying Renjun what he wanted?
Although he insisted on sleeping on the couch, Renjun quickly shut him down with a look as he sauntered toward the bedroom with the excuse of wanting to test out Jaemin’s plush mattress. Jaemin could have protested. He knew that. And yet for some reason, he couldn’t find the words to do it.
He didn’t realise how bad of an idea it was until he slips into bed and Renjun’s face is all but a few centimetres away. And his heart jackrabbits in his chest like an engine roaring to life.
The last time he checked, it was a queen-size bed and there wasn’t any real reason why Renjun had to be this close to him. But he didn’t mind it. Jaemin will savour this feeling for as long as he can.
They had spent all their energy on talking, cooking and eating that the sugar rush had died down quickly once they fell under the covers. Now, all Jaemin can do as the energy drains out of him is to stare at Renjun’s face, hoping that sleep would pull him in quickly.
Renjun mumbles something under his breath that gets lost on Jaemin when he catches himself staring into his eyes.
“What?” Jaemin whispers, even though he doesn’t exactly know why he’s whispering. But the air feels too fragile to shatter with clear words. He would rather them muddled and whispered like they’re the only two people who are allowed to listen in. Like holy scripture.
“I said it was soft,” Renjun whispers back, “the mattress.”
“Oh,” Jaemin doesn’t know why he sounds so surprised, but there was a part of him that wished Renjun had mumbled something else.
And then he does, much quieter than the last time as if he’s purposely making Jaemin chase for it. Jaemin does, as always. He is always doing the chasing, even if Renjun is only centimetres away. Even if Renjun always makes the first move and digs deeper.
“I said, you know I love you, right?”
Jaemin’s eyes stop staring. “What?” He asks again, even though he heard him loud and clear. He just needed to hear it one more time, to make sure.
“I love you. I don’t say it a lot, but I do. I just wanted you to know.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that they were bathed in darkness, he would have slithered closer—read each crevice of Renjun’s face to figure out how he’d miss it, clear as day.
He has always known that Renjun loved him, the same way he knows most things in life. The sky is blue, the sun is hot and Renjun loves him. He sees it in everything he does. But there is something different about the way he loves him now that Jaemin had never taken notice of before. Even now, he stays there, frozen with his breath caught in his throat.
“Like as a friend,” He asks, just to be sure. He needs to hear it properly. “Or more?”
Renjun smiles faintly, and the edge of his front teeth sinks into his bottom lip. “Do you want it to be more?”
Yes, Jaemin’s mind provides instantaneously. He’d like that very much. He’d like to say I love you without hiding behind affectionate gestures. Like Renjun does too. He’d like to say the words aloud, feel the weight of them on his tongue as it curls around each syllable.
He wants to feel the anxiousness that comes with it and the hope of wondering if Renjun will say it back just as eagerly. No, he knows he will. Everything about Renjun is too much and eager and Jaemin can’t ask for anything less because he doesn’t want anything less.
He wants this love that pushes his boundaries and makes him uncomfortable in all the right ways because it’s a love he’ll share with Renjun. And in the end, it’ll always feel easier with him.
It feels right to admit it here, silently between them, spoken like sacred word. Because nothing will change, Jaemin thinks. He has always known of this, whatever it is.
“Please,” he answers and hopes it doesn’t sound too pathetic.
“Then you should say it back.” Renjun teases. His legs are intertwined with Jaemin’s under the covers and he’s certain they won’t forget this when they wake up.
“I love you.”
Renjun is there, grinning at him like a fool and he is everything. He is bright and beaming and yellow.