Archive of Our Own

Damnant quod non intellegunt
-they condemn what they do not understand

Jaemin met God for the first time when he was thirteen. He came in the form of a blessing; of a young boy. 

When Jaemin was called into a meeting with Father Suh, his English teacher whom the whole school was deadly afraid of, Jaemin had his hands folded together while he waited outside of the classroom. He prayed to God that Father Suh hadn’t realised what had happened that morning, however Jaemin also was almost one hundred per cent sure that Donghyuck had snitched on him. Either Donghyuck or Renjun, he thought, either of those two were the kind of suck-ups to go running straight to Father Suh as soon as Jaemin wasn’t ready for breakfast that morning.

Jaemin lifted his hand and used his knuckles to knock on the slightly rotten wood. The voice of Father Suh was muffled, so Jaemin opened the door so that the hinges shrieked in agony trying to resist the movement. Mister Suh was sitting behind his desk and opened his hand in the direction of a chair facing him.

“Sit down,” he said and Jaemin obliged. He took place on the chair and immediately made himself as small as possible while pressing his lips into a thin line. He was already on the starting block, prepared to fend for himself and explain to Father Suh that it hadn’t been his fault that he was late that morning. He had slept through the morning announcement and Mark, their dorm leader, also hadn’t woken him up. Really, Jaemin shouldn’t be to blame for the misconduct of his classmates. In the end, tattling was also not honoured in the eyes of the Holy Ghost…

Jaemin already wanted to begin his monologue before Father Suh interrupted him.

“A new student will arrive this afternoon.” Jaemin looked up at Mister Suh and tilted his head. “His name is Zhong Chenle and I want you, as you’re one of our best students, to show him around and to be his friend.” They didn’t often get any new students, so Jaemin hadn’t expected the request. 

“Is he from here?”

“No. He recently moved.” Father Suh turned around, looking outside of the big window, the dust meddled with the beautiful view. The room looked down upon the gardens that were carefully tended to by the students. It was part of their biology courses to take care of the world around them, just like God wanted them to, every single acre of ground that still belonged to them was taken care of by the rough, calloused fingers of boys between the ages of six and eighteen. Jaemin had a chronic case of soil between his finger beds, no matter how hard he scrubbed, his pale skin was tainted with the ground he walked on.

“Okay,” Jaemin mused, “I can do that.” The sun shone through the dirty window, rays of light hitting Jaemin all at once and basking him in the comfortable summer heat. He believed that it was God blessing him and going easy on him for just this one time. He wasn’t in trouble and Father Suh wasn’t any wiser about the fact that Jaemin had slept in that morning.

“Thank you.”

“Sir-” Before Jaemin could even finish his sentence, his maths teacher, Mr. Qian, had nodded at him. The longer arm of the looming clock, which normally only decided how long one still had for an exam or when the class would finally be dismissed, now passed the Roman numeral for the number eleven. Five for one, Jaemin noted, when he lifted his hand, index finger pointing at the ceiling. He straightened his back, trying to keep his collar from lifting up with his shoulder.

“Father Suh already notified me. You may be excused.” Jaemin smiled when all the eyes in the room focused on him. Jaemin fixed his collar, perfecting his blazer so that there was not a crinkle to distract from his kind eyes that Jaemin would use to welcome the new student. His socks were pulled up high and were covered by his trousers that matched the jacket. His black shoes, polished and shiny, tapped through the quiet classroom. 

“Jaemin-ah, where are you going?” Donghyuck hissed, but Jaemin turned his head to the side and pretended not to hear him. His arms swung from side to side, brushing along the tables while he kept his chin up high. He exited the classroom, hearing how his maths teacher continued to explain how to find unknown distances using the cosiness.

Jaemin strutted through the hallways that once crushed him with fear and anxiety of the big pillars that held up the roof. He was afraid of the arches that loomed over him, the darkness on the other side that Jaemin wasn’t accustomed to yet. He learned to appreciate the architecture and grandeur of his institute. He fell in love with its allure, its charm and its mystery. The secrets that the stone held, unwritten rules carved into the cloister. He walked in the relics of every man who came before him and in his footsteps, another boy would grow up to be just like him: smart and driven- and lazy when it comes to waking up early.

“Jaemin.” Jaemin watched as Father Lee stood in the narthex, the door open so that Jaemin could join him. His feet slipped a bit over the freshly mopped hardwood floor and they made a squeaky noise when Jaemin came to a halt beside his art teacher. Father Lee, also known as Taeyong by the students when talking among themselves, was a kind man, someone that most children went to when they had problems. Jaemin wasn’t an exception. Taeyong was also one of the only teachers who would explain certain bodily functions, things the boys would rumour when the clock struck midnight but that would never make its way past the thick walls of their dormitories.

“Good afternoon, Father Lee,” Jaemin bowed politely, showing his respect. Father Lee smiled while he held out his arm, letting it rest on Jaemin’s lower back. 

From outside of the room, the sound of pebbles crunching together was heard before they tread the stairs. With difficulty, the heavy door was opened and Jaemin watched as a young boy stood in the entrance. He wore a white button-up and some black trousers that matched the black leather of his shoes. His black hair was combed downwards, a slight bowl cut that only looked somewhat decent by the fact that the boy’s hair wasn’t completely flat and the waviness added a third dimension to it.

“Zhong Chenle, my name is Father Lee. It’s really nice to meet you.” Father Lee pulled Chenle into a hug, showing him that God loved him. “This is Na Jaemin, one of our best students. He will be your chaperone until you get used to everything here.”

“Okay…” Chenle hummed, eyes locked on the floor. Jaemin showed him a kind smile, one that went unnoticed by Chenle.

“Let’s have fun together, okay?”

“Sure…”

Jaemin learned that Chenle was a year younger than him, yet brighter than almost all of their peers. The first few days, Jaemin had tried to strike up a conversation with him, yet all of his attempts were left deserted by Chenle who refused to reciprocate the friendliness. Chenle’s eyes stayed sharp, turned slightly downward and dark like there was a never-ending storm cast above them. When Jaemin offered his space to Chenle during lunch, when Jaemin suggested working on schoolwork together, and when Jaemin held out his hand to give Chenle a tour of the area, Chenle declined them all. 

“That kid,” Donghyuck said during lunch, “is a strange one.” Donghyuck pointed with his fork at Chenle who sat in the back of the dining hall, together with Jisung who, while in a grade below him, was closer in age to Chenle than Jaemin or any of his friends were. Chenle had his nose buried in a book he had borrowed from the school-owned library and Jisung was too busy in his own thoughts to notice when Chenle slid his own food onto his plate. He mindlessly ate the extra portion without any complaints.

“I know,” Jaemin said, leaning his cheek on his hand. He huffed, eyes sinking down. “Father Suh asked me to take care of him, but he doesn’t even bother talking to me.”

“He’s also so young.” Jeno talked with his mouth full, making Renjun scoff at him with disgust. “Plus a transfer student? Either his parents are dead or loaded.”

“Shut your lips when you’re eating.” He shook his head. “Gossiping is a sin, you know.”

“It’s not gossip, it’s just discussing the latest happenings.”

“It’s gossiping.”

“It’s not gossiping because I would tell Chenle himself that I thought he was strange.” Jeno snickered when Renjun’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets. Jaemin smacked the back of Donghyuck’s head. 

When Chenle succeeded in using Jisung as his own personal garbage disposal, he carefully folded the napkin, put it on his tray together with his silverware, and brought both his and Jisung’s tray to the front. Jaemin traced the movements with his gaze, making notes of how Chenle put down his tray and thanked the chef for the meal. He even faked wiping his lips, yet Jaemin knew there was no residue and there were no crumbs to be cleaned. It was just Chenle’s lie that he should wash from his mouth.

Jaemin slipped out of the bench, bribing his friend to clean up for him in return that he would make their beds for a week straight, before hurrying after Chenle. They weren’t allowed to leave the dining hall before the bell rang, but Jaemin believed in his ability to sneak out unnoticed. Even after the bell rang, they weren’t permitted to roam the halls freely. They had to walk in strict queues outside where they would spend an hour. Oftentimes, Jaemin would join the boys in football, but this time, he tracked Chenle down until the younger boy stopped by the music room.

Jaemin had just enough time to duck behind a pillar when Chenle looked over his shoulder, his eyes squinted while making sure there was no one following him. He dashed into the room and Jaemin carefully came out of his hiding spot, peering through the slit between the wall and the door. 

Chenle was sitting on the piano bench, stretching his fingers, before pleasuring the piano with his amazing skills. He danced over the keys, the slow rhythm of Clair De Lune filled the room with a beautiful symphony. He quickened the pace, not even needing sheet music to play the piece without any mistakes, and the notes barely kept up with his talent. Jaemin was in awe while the quick motions of Chenle’s hands became one blur of flesh-coloured flowers.

Chenle transitioned into a piece that sounded more familiar to Jaemin. His hands moved further left to play the first lower notes of Moonlight Sonata. His back was straight, yet everything but stiff. He swayed along to the music, movements supple while his eyes remained closed and he threw his head backwards. Jaemin stayed put, absolutely still and frozen in time. The music went straight through him, like a cold breeze, it left him chilled and empty.

“Wow,” Jaemin said when Chenle reached the last few notes. Chenle whipped his head around, clearly not amused to see that Jaemin had been spying on him all this time. “Wow,” he repeated.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you. You play amazing.” Chenle kept his walls up high. The sweet summer air that he used to possess while he was playing was replaced by a cold winter night while he stuck out his chest a bit to make himself look bigger.

“Why were you checking up on me?”

“You didn’t eat.” 

“You’ve been stalking me?”  Chenle looked disgusted with him. “Are you psycho or something?”

“I am not!” Jaemin defended himself, crossing his arms. “You are the one who didn’t eat a single thing. Nor have you made any effort to talk to anyone besides Jisung. You are a weirdo!” 

“This isn’t helping your case. Why are you watching me?” 

“Father Suh wanted me to help you around, but you’ve not appreciated any of my efforts.” Chenle frowned.

“I am not a charity case,” he spat. “I don’t need someone babysitting me.” Jaemin rolled his eyes and turned around.

“Whatever you say.” When Jaemin slammed the door shut, the beginning of Prelude Op. 28 No. 16 by Chopin started playing. 

Jaemin was petty, he knew that, but before his parents said their forever goodbye, they always taught him that an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth was the only fair thing in this world. When dictators and politicians used deceit to get ahead in life, Jaemin’s parents told him that they would get what they deserved one day.

So, when Father Kim asked the group of tween boys who could play an instrument, Jaemin immediately screamed that Chenle was an amazing pianist.

“Really, sir Zhong, you never told us you had a hidden talent.” Chenle shrugged, stepping in front and taking place behind the musical instrument. When Jaemin had seen Chenle play for the first time, it looked like he dominated it, yet now he was swallowed behind the big wooden work of art. True craftsmanship, polished wood and scratched by the wear and tear of students prior.

“What do you want me to play?” Chenle asked, a bit too smugly for Father Kim’s liking who crossed his arms.

“Do you know Frédéric Chopin? How about Waltz in A minor?” Chenle hummed, popping his knuckles before beginning to play the piece. Jaemin had hoped for Chenle to freeze up as he had been so secretive about his passion for music, but he played with little to no mistakes- none that Jaemin could notice, at least. The boy seemed relaxed and at peace with the world. 

As the music came to a close, Chenle didn’t seem satisfied with his performance just yet. It didn’t leave the mind-blowing impression that he wanted it to, so he improvised another part at the end. His fingers started to attack the keys, rather than flow over them. Chenle was a tsunami of musical knowledge and Jaemin realised that he had done the exact opposite of what he wanted to achieve. Instead of putting Chenle on the spot, he had shown the world where the boy really belonged and where he truly could show off his true colours: making music.

When Chenle finished, he got up from the bench and bowed to the teacher, taking place again between the students. He crossed his legs over each other, folding his hands in his lap and looking at Father Kim with curious eyes. The whole class was speechless. Jaemin could hear a couple of scoffs from where he was seated, calling Chenle a show-off.

“Very impressive, Mr. Zhong. Would you perhaps like to become the pianist for the school’s orchestra?”

“It would be an honour, Father.” Jaemin bit the inside of his cheek when Chenle eyed him, not annoyed, but thankful. 

The more that Jaemin learned about Chenle, the more he was convinced that this boy wasn’t real. They were in gym class, everyone wearing the same white shirt, black shorts and black trainers. Everyone- except the boys who wanted to stand out, had their socks pulled up to their calves and they were standing against the wall while their gym teacher Mister Lee, better known as Ten as, according to him, “he’d have to fight God before someone calls me mister Lee.”

Ten wasn’t one of the Fathers, everyone knew that, he taught at a gym outside of the institute as well and he only was there on Wednesdays and Fridays when every age group was forced to embarrass themselves in front of an audience. 

Jaemin used to love physical education, but somewhere when he turned twelve, the hairs started to grow in places he would never admit to and when his voice began to crackle at the slightest hint of strain, Jaemin began to dislike it. He didn’t want to wear shorts that showed his lanky figure, the milky-white skin with brown stubbles that seemed so out of place with his classmates who hadn’t started puberty yet. 

The day before Jaemin’s twelfth birthday, it had been, when Jaemin found his legs aching. In the upcoming months, he grew to become the tallest of his year and found his gangly arms and legs flopping around, not yet knowing where exactly their place lay in the confusing world of adulthood. As time progressed, a few other early bloomers got their growth spurt and Jaemin wasn’t the only one called “bean stock” anymore, but the purple stretch marks that covered his thighs and waist were still a subject to bullying to the point that Jaemin started changing in the bathrooms and continued doing so even now.

He didn’t get picked anymore because people thought that the tiger marks were contagious, so Jaemin became more and more reserved during gym. If no one picked him, he didn’t want to show an effort and when he didn’t put in any effort, people didn’t pick him. He was stuck in a cycle.

Chenle, however, hadn’t hit puberty yet and he was a raging ball of energy on the field. His movements were lithe and youthful. The boy had yet another place he excelled at and Jaemin watched from a distance while Chenle became assertive during a game of basketball. Jaemin didn’t even have the chance to hold the ball, let alone score a point, but Chenle was hitting two-pointers left and right with ease.

“Jaemin-ah!” Chenle called out while he was cornered, dribbling the ball between his legs. Jaemin’s eyes widened when he heard his name and he sprung into action. Part of him was screaming that this must be a foul joke, no one would ever willingly reach out to him for anything besides homework, but Chenle quickly jumped and threw the ball towards Jaemin who stood frozen for a second. 

“Jaemin, there! Run while bouncing the ball!” Chenle pointed to the field and with a newfound rush of adrenaline, Jaemin let the ball travel between the floor and his hand while he ran. His classmates, who had been so busy focussing on Chenle, were now running after Jaemin whose heart was ringing in his ears. 

“Shoot! Jaemin, shoot!” Jaemin did, the ball bouncing from the board into the net before falling to the ground. Jaemin stopped, feet glued to the plaster as Ten whistled to let everyone know that it was the end of the game. The ball continued to roll until Chenle picked it up. Classmates gathered around Jaemin.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could play,” Mark said, genuine surprise in his voice. 

“Jaemin, you did great!”

“That was such a nice shot.”

“Jaemin, have you thought about playing basketball with us after lunch?” Jaemin’s eyes flitted through the room, stopping when they reached Chenle who was smiling brightly at him, showing him two thumbs up. Jaemin sucked on the soft flesh of his cheek.

Chenle might not be so bad after all.

It’s a bit tragic that their friendship only started to blossom right after Chenle’s thirteenth birthday when calumnious rumours were being spread about Chenle. The boy had been so popular, so loved, it was weird when Jaemin woke up one day to have the whole school whisper behind the back of the young Chinese boy about what he -allegedly- had told during confessionals a couple of days prior.

“I heard he’s…” When Jaemin walked past, he couldn’t make up the exact word they used, but he knew exactly what they were trying to say. Chenle was, according to hearsay, a queer. Someone who loved one who was like him: someone who didn’t carry the beauty and the femininity that a girl would. Chenle loved something else and it spread around the school like a wildfire.

“Are you sure?”

“I heard Father Suh talk about it with Father Taeyong.” Confessionals always had meant to be kept a secret, a way to clean your soul from the heavy burden of carrying whatever sin. If what his classmates were saying was true, Jaemin felt more upset that their Fathers had broken the seal of confession, one of the only things that made students feel safe to actually talk about their struggles. 

“I always knew he was a fairy.” Something inside Jaemin’s stomach twisted while he hurried away from the group of boys who were still muttering in the corner of the hallway. Jaemin covered his ears with his hands, trying to forget the nasty words he had heard before he too was going to get dragged down to hell for simply listening to how others slandered their classmate.

That same day, Chenle had been asked to stay behind before lunch by Father Suh. Jaemin had looked at the boy whose blue circles under his eyes were prominent, clashing with his porcelain skin. He had always been pale, but lately, Jaemin noticed how he could see hints of blue on his cheeks and neck, veins like rivers that mapped his skin and gave the impression that Chenle had fallen ill.

Chenle never joined them for lunch.

“Chenle?” The boy had missed both gym and maths so when their school day was over and Jaemin had time for himself, he spent it by looking for his younger classmate. Jaemin had looked everywhere, every classroom, the music room, he had peered through the lock of Father Suh’s classroom and he couldn’t find him until he heard quiet sniffles coming from one of the restrooms.

There were multiple toilet rooms in the building, some more favoured than others. There was one that no one ever used. 

Near the art rooms, there were two bathrooms that you could use. One closer to the canteen and the other was in the corner of the institute, tucked away behind walls and hallways. While every single restroom had been renovated since the construction of their school, that one never had the same luxury of being renewed.

There was a rumour that someone died in that bathroom and their bones had been buried underneath the foundations. The school didn’t want any trouble if someone found the skeleton, so they simply decided to never change it. The story stuck and with both the atmosphere of potentially walking on a dead body combined with the questionable plumbing, the bathroom was declared, by the students at least, as the Limbo of Pupils. If any of them were to die, they would be stuck in that bathroom until God made the decision of heaven or hell. 

Jaemin knew that it was occasionally used as a place to engage in other kinds of activities as well, which is why he tried to stay away from it as much as possible. But that afternoon, he could hear sniffles coming from one of the stalls, so he braved his fear and prayed to God that this wouldn’t be qualified as a sin.

“Chenle? Are you here?” Jaemin asked another time. The sniffles stopped and Jaemin knocked on the only locked stall. “Hello?” There was no response and Jaemin took a step backward. The feet that first peeked from underneath the door were now gone and Jaemin assumed that whoever was in there must have raised them.

“Chenle, if it’s you in there Mister Qian is looking for you.”

“Tell him I’m sick.”

“He would want to see some kind of paper from the nurse or the infirmary.”

“Get it yourself.”

“You really don’t want to see Father Qian angry, though.” Jaemin knocked on the door another time. “Come on, just come out of this stall and we can find him together.” 

“No. Leave me alone.”

“Come on,” Jaemin pressed. He sat down on his knees, glimpsing into the stall but being unable to see much. “There’s an important exam coming up. You don’t want to fail, do you?”

“I don’t care!” Chenle’s voice was on the verge of breaking and Jaemin wondered what had happened. “You just want me to come out so you can bully me as well!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jaemin. You’re not that stupid.” Jaemin scoffed. 

“Thanks for the compliment.” Chenle unlocked the door and Jaemin jumped up, mouth agape when Chenle carefully stepped foot outside of the stall. His hair was soaked just like the hem of his shirt. His trousers had been removed so that he was just standing in the same underwear that every boy in school wore. Jaemin blinked and Chenle turned completely red, biting his lip before slamming the door closed and hiding himself in the stall yet another time. 

“Go away!” Chenle yelled.

“No, Chenle, I’m sorry… I just- I didn’t know… Who did this to you?”

“No one…”

“Come on…” The door opened ever so slightly and Jaemin could see one dark brown eye staring at him. “Who was it?”

“No… It’s- You’re not going to believe me anyway.” Jaemin pulled Chenle out of the stall and looked around the hallway. He let his blazer slide over his arms and wrapped it around Chenle’s waist.

“Most people aren’t in the dorms right now. I will go ahead and I will make sure no one sees you, okay?” Chenle nodded slightly, his eyes still wet from tears. 

“Thank you…”

“Look, you helped me and I will help you, okay? We’re even. We’re friends, good?” Jaemin knew he needed someone like Chenle and Jaemin also knew that Chenle needed someone like Jaemin. 

Most boys grew up in the institute. They were orphans, sons of bastards or sons of the poor. They were boys without a future who had been handed a second chance. They were the sons of God and that’s what they would always be. Most of them didn’t have any family and considered their teachers and their friends as their relatives. They didn’t know better. They couldn’t have known better.

Growing up with sleeping halls, cafeterias, and shared common spaces meant that Jaemin was used to being around people twenty-four-seven. While he occasionally budded heads with Donghyuck or Renjun or while he would argue with Mark or when Jeno would punch him for being annoying, they were his brothers. They were the people Jaemin knew and the people Jaemin loved. He had fallen asleep with them for a whole decade now and there was no reason for him to be a light sleeper. He trusted them. And they trusted him.

Thus, Jaemin would have never woken up that night if it wasn’t for an enumeration of circumstances. First off, it was a cold December night and while Jaemin didn’t believe in Santa anymore- There was a part of him that couldn’t shake the idea of the miracle of Christmas. He wanted it to be true. He wanted there to be a magical old man who was loved all over the world and who gave presents to children anywhere, in any country: no matter their background.

Second off, Jaemin was coming down with a bit of a cold and his sinuses were filled with gunk so whenever he dozed off, he got woken up by the sound of himself snoring. His mouth was dry and his chest was tight. He kept tossing and turning around, trying to find a comfortable position but found himself gasping for air while the cracked skin above his lips brushed against his pillow, making him wince in pain.

Third off, Chenle hadn’t been quiet that night like he had been all the other nights prior. While he was very used to suppressing his sobs deep into the darkness of the night, he woke up that night with tears already staining his pale cheeks and with his hands clasping his damp sheets. 

“Chenle?” Jaemin whispered. His nasal voice made it hard to comprehend him and Chenle either ignored him on purpose or hadn’t understood that Jaemin was calling for him.

“Chenle? Everything okay?” Jaemin sat up when he heard some rustling. Chenle had slipped out of his bed and was dragging his bedding with him to the door. Jaemin removed the comforter from his legs, shifting so his bare feet touched the floor. 

“I’m fine,” Chenle finally responded. “Just go back to sleep.” Jaemin got up and followed Chenle into the hallways where the emergency exit lights were the only thing illuminating the path to the bathrooms. Chenle flicked on the light, face red, while he threw his bedding onto the floor. Jaemin closed the door, locking it behind them.

“Stop doing that,” Chenle whispered, voice as loud as he could while trying not to wake everyone up. Jaemin’s eyes glazed down Chenle’s wet pyjamas before he lifted them back to meet Chenle’s tear-filled gaze.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending like you care about me.” Chenle pushed the bedding with his feet to the showers and turned it on, not all the way, but softly. “I know you want to make fun of me right now. It’s humiliating.”

“But I do care about you.” Chenle pulled down his bottoms and underwear, throwing them on the same pile. He used some toilet paper and soap to pat his legs clean. “And I don’t want to make fun of you.” 

“Fuck off.” While the pile of laundry got soaked, Chenle walked to the other side of the room and climbed up on the sink, reaching for the cabinet that was above it and prying it open with his nails. He grabbed a bottle of detergent and threw it on the floor. He jumped from the sink, picked up the soup and poured some of the insides onto the pile. 

“You’ve done this before?”

“Almost every other day, at least.” Jaemin didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed the fact that Chenle was washing his sheets and pyjamas so often. “I clean them, try to wring out as much water as possible and then throw them back on.”

“But your sheets aren’t dry yet?”

“I know.” Jaemin tried to pat Chenle’s shoulder who flinched away. Jaemin retreated his hand, squatting down beside him. “I just lay on the floor. They’re often dry by the time that lights go out, and otherwise, I just deal with it.” 

“Aren’t you cold?” Chenle shrugged. “You must be cold. Here.” Jaemin pulled down his pants and stepped out of them. Chenle blinked, cheeks flushed while accepting the offer. Jaemin still had his boxers to keep part of his body unexposed while Chenle had nothing. He felt like it was fair.

“You should talk to Father Suh or Father Lee.” Jaemin tried. “I’m sure they can give you some extra sheets so you don’t have to do this the whole time.”

“They wouldn’t.” Chenle bit his lip. “I think this is what they wanted in the first place.” 

“What do you mean?” Chenle turned off the shower and tried to squeeze out as much water from all the fabric. Jaemin looked at him from a distance, holding his pants for Chenle to wear later so they wouldn’t get wet right now. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” he mumbled and Jaemin believed him. He wouldn’t get it. 

A month later, Chenle had crawled into Jaemin’s bed late at night. After having changed his sheets and removed his clothes and stole some of Jaemin that he kept under his bed in case of emergencies- something he only started doing since that night, Chenle was seeking warmth and comfort from the only boy who had shown kindness to him.

Chenle wrapped his tinier arms around Jaemin once he realised that the older boy was shaking, silent tears staining his pillow. Chenle carefully brushed them dry, whispering into Jaemin’s ear to wake up, holding his shoulder and rocking it gently.

Jaemin’s eyes flickered open, his wetted eyelashes brushed against Chenle’s cheek which was so close, so near and so soft. Jaemin looked at him, the young boy who was staring at him with the same concern and tender loving care as Jaemin would have done.

“A nightmare?” He didn’t sound mean, didn’t sound upset. He just sounded like Chenle. Jaemin hummed. He turned onto his back and let Chenle lay down on top of him, hugging him like a koala.

“I’m sorry,” Chenle muttered and Jaemin closed his eyes again=.

“It’s nothing. They come and go.” 

“What are they about? If you want to tell me…”

“Nothing,” Jaemin sighed, “yet everything at the same time.”

Jaemin made Chenle swear to never tell their friends and Chenle made Jaemin swear that he wouldn’t say a thing and they both kept their promises.  While Jaemin didn’t understand it, he felt like Chenle was right when he said that Father Suh and Father Lee weren’t going to help him with this issue. Yet, somehow, Jaemin believed they found out because on a beautiful spring day, Chenle was called out of the class and he didn’t come back. He didn’t come back for a long time. 

“Where’s Chenle?” Jaemin asked Father Qian who had always placed a single sheet of coursework on the corner of his desk, labelled Chenle in neat and cursive handwriting. He must be somewhere if mister Qian was still able to bring him his homework so he wouldn’t fall too behind. Jaemin wanted to know why Chenle had suddenly disappeared.

“Oh, he’s just a bit sick,” Father Qian smiled softly. 

“He’s not been in class for two weeks.”

“He’s still recovering.”

“Can I visit him?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ Father Qian petted Jaemin’s head, his fingers brushing over his hair. The hand slipped down until it lay on Jaemin’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “But I’ll let him know you asked. I think it would cheer him up.”

“Thank you.” Jaemin bowed to show his gratitude. He wasn’t done yet.

“Can I go visit Chenle?” Jaemin hadn’t even knocked on Father Suh’s door, a somewhat peculiar drive and determination had infiltrated his immune system, making him fall victim to a severe case of being more reckless than he had ever thought of being. 

“Mister Na? What are you doing here?” Father Suh’s eyes were squinted into tiny splits and Jaemin crossed his arms.

“I want to see Chenle.”

“With that attitude, all you want is some kind of punishment.” Jaemin sighed deeply.

“My apologies. I am just worried. I haven’t seen him in weeks.” Jaemin showed Father Suh his best attempt at puppy eyes, hoping that it would work. 

“Apologies accepted…” Father Suh apparently still had a soft spot for Jaemin which the young boy was thankful for. “But you may not be allowed to visit Mister Zhong. He is in quarantine.”

“But why? For how long?”

“I cannot say, but believe me that it’s for the better.” Father Suh stretched his lips out and for the first time, Jaemin felt uncomfortable. Was this all just about his bedwetting problem? Did they think that it was contagious? 

“I know about his problem.” This made Father Suh stop smiling immediately.

“Do you now?" Mister Suh got up and closed the door behind them. Jaemin could hear the clicking of the lock. “What exactly do you know?” Mister Suh kept his body in front of the door, the light that shone through the window creating a black outline of the tall man. Jaemin looked at the shadowy figure that seemed to be able to swallow him whole.

“I- I woke up when he was changing his sheets.”

“Changing his sheets?”

“Yeah… He- He had an accident.” Jaemin inhaled sharply, his voice wobbling. “He had wet himself and I helped him clean it up! It- It’s not contagious! I- I would have had it otherwise as well.” Father Suh laughed while he opened the door, stretching his arm to lead Jaemin out of his office.

“I see, but that’s not why we put Chenle in quarantine. This is not about that.”

“Oh… Then what?”

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Jaemin. I still have a lot of work to do?” Before Jaemin could agree or protest, he got ushered out of the room and the door was slammed shut in his face. Jaemin blinked, a heavy feeling in his chest. 

“Then what?” he asked again, knowing that it was all in vain. 

“Jaemin, Chenle, can I speak with you for a second?” Whilst the rest of the class was packing their folders and papers into their letterman, Jaemin’s eyes searched the room for Chenle who got up from his chair. He dusted the eraser dust from his table and shirt before walking up to the desk, leaving an empty space for Jaemin to take place beside him.

The last few students trickled outside, their footsteps echoing through the hallways while they sauntered, on their way to their next class. Chenle was playing with the cuffs of his sleeves and only now Jaemin realised how close Chenle was getting to him in height. The boy had always been shorter than he was, but apparently, in the months that Chenle had been gone, he had also grown taller, and broader. He was still the lanky boy Jaemin once knew with the smooth skin and dark, night-like eyes, but he had matured in a way only Jaemin realised when he was standing there, his gaze glossing over the younger boy.

Even after the summer heat, Chenle was a pasty white with legs like milk bottles. But, his cheeks gained this rosy colour that Jaemin thought was cute. It showed that it was Chenle after all. 

“Over the summer, I sent you guy’s maths performances to the city's university. They were impressed and allowed you guys to follow some lessons there.”

“But why?”

“They do this so we will choose them once we are out of here,” Jaemin explained and Father Qian smiled at Jaemin.

“Exactly. Plus, it’s a wonderful opportunity for you two to broaden your horizons.”

“Are we allowed to go?” Jaemin had heard of students leaving the institute for things like this, but he had never thought he himself would be one of those. They always had felt so out of reach, like mythical beasts that only existed in the books Jaemin would read from the library.

“I already talked with Father Suh and he gave permission. I will be accompanying you two on your trip that will take place in late September. It will be for five days.” Father Qian slipped them both a paper with all the details. “You two just have to read this through and sign it for the next lesson, okay?”

And that’s how Jaemin and Chenle ended up in the backseat of Father Qian’s car while they drove over the gravel pathway. The institute had always been surrounded by rolling hills and meadows, a small forest to the east of it, but mainly just shades of green and yellow that spread around them for miles and miles. Jaemin had his head rested against his seatbelt, his pupils flexing so he could look out the sullied window that was besmirched with the carcasses of fruit flies and spiders. 

Chenle was right beside him, the back of the car only being large enough to fit two people, and he was lying against the car door. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even, his chest slowly rising up and down like a pendulum in motion, swinging in a repetitive pattern until it would eventually come to a halt- may it just take many years for Chenle to come to that. 

When the two had packed their bags that morning, Donghyuck had blinked awake and he tilted his head.

“It’s not fair you two are allowed to go.”

“Life’s not fair,” Jaemin had said. Chenle zipped up his suitcase and looked with anxious eyes at Jaemin. He had asked a million times, Jaemin had counted, if this was a good idea. Jaemin didn’t understand his panic, he came from outside the institute, he should be thrilled to not be locked up anymore and Jaemin should be the one scared. Instead, Jaemin had shrugged at him and told him: “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Still. I want to go too.”

“You can take Chenle’s spot,” Jaemin joked and Chenle punched his shoulder. Jaemin flinched, not realising that the younger had gotten stronger. 

“He’s terrible at maths. The university would kick him out before he even has a chance to enter school grounds.”

“That’s mean. I’m not that bad.”

“What did you get on the last exam?”

“Shut up. You’re a child.” Chenle stuck out his tongue and reached for his suitcase. He eyed Jaemin. 

“We should go.”

“You’re right.”

“Buy me a souvenir?”

“With what money?”

“I don’t know, figure something out. You two are the geniuses.” 

Jaemin didn’t think of himself as a genius. He felt more like a fraud than the prodigy he was supposed to be. And he had never felt smaller than in this car, his hand resting on Chenle’s while he tried to find the end of the stretching landscape they were driving through. 

There was no end, there was only more and more to come. The grey sky was cast above them and the heavens began to cry. A soft drizzle blessed them with the sound of raindrops hitting the metal roof above them. Jaemin closed his eyes, also dozing off. He dreamt of Chenle: in the middle of those infinite fields of agricultural land, so close yet completely out of reach for Jaemin’s soil-stained hands.

“Jaemin?” Chenle flicked on the reading light, his voice hushed so that Father Qian wouldn’t wake up. Their teacher was asleep in the room beside them, the only thing parting them was a thin wall. 

“Chenle, oh my God, I have great news!” Chenle pressed his finger on his own lips, trying to shush Jaemin while he pulled the boy onto the bed. Jaemin was grinning from ear to ear and he smelled bitter. It burned Chenle’s nostrils and he frowned.

“What did you do?”

“I went for a walk… There are some guys drinking outside on campus. They gave me this.” Jaemin held up a bottle of bright pink liquor. Jaemin unscrewed the cap and the artificial smell of cherries hit Chenle like a truck. Jaemin offered it to Chenle who shook his head aggressively.

“No way.”

“Come on, it tastes great!”

“What if Father Qian finds out?”

“He won’t. How will he find out?”

“The smell? The bottle?”

“We’ll brush our teeth tomorrow morning and I’ll hide the bottle. It’s gonna be fine.” Chenle, who was only a few months away from turning fourteen, felt like he was treading on forbidden territory. He had learnt that drinking was sinful and that especially drinking for pleasure was only something wrongins did. 

“Come on, you’re not a baby, are you?” Chenle shook his head again. “Then drink it.”

“Fine.” Chenle reached for the bottle that was lukewarm from Jaemin holding it. He closed his eyes and put the bottle against his lips, throwing his head backwards so the alcohol burned his throat and abdomen while it sloshed into his stomach. Chenle gagged, almost spitting out the drink. The hairs inside his nose tickled when he hiccuped, tasting the grossly sweet drink for a second time.

“See? How’d you like it?” Chenle shrugged. He was nauseous and he felt like throwing up. His tummy hurt and his vision had become cloudy. 

“It’s fine,” Chenle muttered, trying to keep his voice from breaking. He hated it. 

“See! Tomorrow, you should join me! They have so much more alcohol there.” Chenle hummed and laid back down, turning his back towards Jaemin and facing the wall.

“We’ll see. I’m tired.”

“Party pooper.” Jaemin lay down beside Chenle, his hot breath stroking Chenle’s neck. Chills ran down his spine while he curled deeper into the sheets. Jaemin slowly enclosed Chenle into his arms, enveloping the young boy with his body. Chenle nuzzled his face into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Goodnight, Jaemin.”

“Night night, Chenle.”

“How’d you get that?”

“How’d you find me?” Jaemin was sitting in the park across from the university, the soft glow from the waning moon was the only thing that illuminated the spot where Jaemin was sitting. He had his chin resting on his knees, a cigarette between his middle and index finger and a half-empty bottle of alcohol beside him.

“You never came back, so I asked around.” When Father Qian had gone to bed, Jaemin had said to Chenle he was going to take a quick shower and wash away all the worries from the day. He had promised Chenle, who was sitting up against the wall with a book situated against his pulled-up thighs. When Jaemin never came back, Chenle had put on his trousers and walked around, asking the university students if they had seen another young boy wandering around.

“Then you also know how I got this.” Jaemin grabbed the bottle and held it up like how someone would try to lure a wild animal. Chenle shook his head, sliding down the tree and scooting over.

“I don’t like it that much.”

“More for me.” Jaemin shrugged and took a quick swig. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Chenle shrugged. He hunched over his own body, tracing fractals in the dirt. Patterns that would go on endlessly, again and again, a carousel of mathematics and denied feelings. Chenle’s finger tingled, the coarse sand irritating his sensitive skin. 

“Do you think Father Qian saw us that morning?”

“He’s naive, but not blind,” Chenle said, wafting away the smoke from Jaemin’s cigarette. Jaemin sighed deeply, pressing the butt into the ground before tossing away the remains. “But he believes it’s just boys being boys.”

“I mean, aren’t we?”

“What?”

“Boys being boys?” Chenle shrugged. They were just boys doing whatever it was that boys did. One time, while Mark and Chenle were lollygagging in the communal bathrooms after basketball practice, Mark admitted that Jeno and he had experimented a couple of times after lights out. They would sneak out of the dorms and Mark had told Chenle in great detail how euphoric it feels to have someone wrap their hands around you, and move to a steady rhythm until you came. It was better, in his words, than doing it yourself. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Chenle never felt like he had much in common with Mark or Jeno. Even Donghyuck and Renjun seemed so out of reach for the youngest of their group. Jaemin and Jisung were truly Chenle’s only friends and he knew that he would never let Jisung cuddle up to him like how he had let Jaemin cuddle up to him.

“I mean, don’t you ever wonder how it actually feels?” Even though the words were never outwardly spoken, Chenle knew exactly what he meant.

“Sometimes, I suppose.”

“I do it when everyone’s asleep sometimes… When I am bored and alone.”

“I- They… They took them away.” Chenle swallowed harshly and Jaemin looked at him. Even in the dim light of Selene herself, Chenle watched as Jaemin’s expression changed into something he had never seen before. 

“What? What are you talking about?”

“What that rumour spread about me… They didn’t want to take any chances… So, you know, they took them away.” Jaemin blinked, not believing his own ears. He got up, Chenle following him like a shadow. “Jaemin?”

“That is fucking insane! They cannot do that!” It was anger. For the first time, Chenle saw true anger in Jaemin’s face. Not some frustration about Donghyuck snitching on him or Mark eating his dessert. It was pure, unfiltered rage. Chenle sprinted to keep up with Jaemin who was stomping towards the university. 

“Where are you going?”

“Going to talk to Father Qian.”

“No! You’re just going to make it worse!” Jaemin turned around. He looked at the young boy who seemed to have grown years from the last time that Jaemin looked at him. He was just as tall as Jaemin was. He had dark hairs on his bare arms that were covered in little bumps. The only thing that showed that he was still a child, both he and Jaemin were still children, were his tear-stained cheeks. Jaemin’s shoulders slumped while he shimmied out of his sweater. 

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Jaemin held open the sweater and let Chenle step into it. He wrapped one arm around him, pulling him against his side. Chenle sniffled.

“What are we, Jaemin?” 

“We’re just us.” Chenle nodded and let Jaemin lead them both back to their room. His breath smelled like ash and alcohol, but right now, for Chenle, it smelled like home.

On their last day, Father Qian finally took them into the city. While the weather was grey, Jaemin was smiling with the power of a thousand suns while he held Chenle’s hand, dragging him into the art gallery while Father Qian showed the man in the foyer their pre-bought tickets.

“Calm down,” Chenle tried. A few drops of water fell from Chenle’s coat onto the floor while he zipped it down, exposing the uniform he was wearing underneath it. Jaemin hadn’t worn a coat, leaving the article of clothing packed in the suitcases that were packed away in the trunk of Father Qian’s car. 

Jaemin let his hand slip out of Chenle’s, walking ahead while Chenle smiled politely at the security guards. He waited until his teacher caught up and walked with him through the beautifully furnished hallways. The laminated hardwood floor caught the dirt from the people walking in and out, shielding themselves from the bleak weather. The walls were a deep burgundy, with gold accents that divided the walls from the vaulted ceilings. Chenle had more eye for the architecture than the paintings if he was honest.

“Is this your first time in an art gallery?”

“No, Father. I used to go to them with my parents.”

“I see.”

“Chenle, there are real diamonds in the next room!” Jaemin said, sprinting back. Chenle chuckled.

“Jaemin, you need to be quiet.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” Jaemin focussed all his attention on Chenle, knowing he had the younger wrapped around his finger. “Come on, they’re beautiful.”

“Fine.” Chenle followed Jaemin through the arched doorways and watched from a safe distance how Jaemin gushed over the beautiful pieces of minerals. He stretched his neck, turning around until his eyes fell onto a painting. It made his heart drop. The way that the brush strokes were so prevalent, yet still blended together to make one piece was something that Chenle hadn’t seen quite often. 

On the canvas, a simple young man was depicted. The beautiful wreath didn’t match his pained expression, trying to hold onto the girl while simultaneously not looking at her. There was a clove between them, a gap that he was too afraid to close. 

“It’s Orpheus and Eurydice,” Chenle said once he felt the presence of someone else behind him.

“Who?” Jaemin sounded confused.

“They’re from the Greek myths… The ones all those Roman ones get based on. You know, the ones we have to translate during Latin?”

“Oh. Those. Romulus and Remus?”

“No. Well, yes, those are Roman mythology. But these aren’t those.”

“Then who are they?”

“They were lovers.” Chenle reached into his pocket, taking out a camera. “Eurydice died because of a snake that bit her and Orpheus had the chance to save her. Hades only had one simple rule: do not look back.”

“That doesn’t sound too difficult.”

“He had to travel through all of Hell and he wasn’t allowed to look back. Not once. Then, when he was almost at the end, with Eurydice right behind him, while the sun-blessed them with their light, he looked back and saw that Eurydice was only mere steps away from escaping. She wasn’t allowed back.”

“Why did he look back?” Jaemin moved closer to Chenle, his voice softer.

“He loved her. She didn’t answer him. He wanted to know if she was okay.”

“What an idiot.” Chenle shrugged. 

“They reunited again in the afterlife. They had a whole life together in the end.”

“But they could have more of their life together.”

“Would you look back?” Jaemin eyed Chenle and didn’t answer. 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at what Chenle was holding.

“It’s a camera. My mother gave it to me. It’s old and I barely use it…” Chenle let the safety band slide down his thin wrists and he held it up, pushing it towards Jaemin. “You can have it if you want.”

“What? No.”

“Why not? I think you’d like it. Photography suits you more than it suits me.” Jaemin held the device with two shaky hands, terrified he was going to drop it. 

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Chenle smiled at him. “Father Qian must be waiting for us. Can you go ahead? I want to look at this painting a little while longer.” Jaemin hummed and as he walked away, he couldn’t help it. He looked over his shoulder, eying Chenle and knowing that if it was him, he wouldn’t even make it halfway without looking back.

But, life couldn’t stay like that. 

When Jaemin and Chenle returned to the institute, it was like trying to teach a horse how to ride a bike with how much they had to get used to again. They weren’t alone anymore, they weren’t having fun anymore, they were back in their old school with their old teachers and old friends.

“Mark, you are the best.” While he wasn't a college student, Mark was a pretty decent replacement. “Where’d you even get this?”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I have some major dirt on Father Suh.” Mark grinned. 

“What is it?”

“If I’d tell you, I’d be dead.” Mark looked around and pushed the bottle and the cigarette packages into the letterman that Jaemin was holding open. “But don’t let him see it. He can still punish me if he knows I am giving this shit away.” 

“My lips are sealed.” 

Jaemin knew that what he was doing was horrible and immoral and would reserve him most likely one of the VIP seats in hell, yet Jaemin loved the mind-numbing substances and he loved how he finally didn’t have to think about how much he hated being stuck in here. He had tasted the sweet and sour taste that was outside and now he was stuck with bland chicken soup and the smell of mould growing underneath their mattresses.

Even when his grades dropped or when he was pulled out of the specialised program for gifted students, he couldn’t care less about anything that didn’t dope his entire being. 

In mid-February, a week or two after Jisung’s birthday, Chenle was sitting in the library when Jaemin entered. Mister Nakamoto, the librarian, was currently away at a meeting with all the faculty staff and while the library would normally be closed, Chenle had a good enough reputation. While Jaemin spent his lunch breaks drinking alone or smoking with Donghyuck, Chenle spent his reading and studying.

“Chenle, just the boy I was looking for.”

“Why?”

“I have missed you. I feel like we barely talk.” Jaemin pulled a chair from under the table, sitting on it backwards so his legs wrapped around the backrest and he could lean his arms on top of the same wooden plank.

“And why would that be?” Chenle closed his book, the heavy, leather-bind pages falling onto the table with a bang. Jaemin pouted, leaning towards Chenle who carried the book under his arm. Jaemin could just make out the musical notes that peaked from under the oversized sleeve that sacked off his skinny arm.

“Are you being sarcastic with me?”

“I would never.” Jaemin jumped out of his seat, grasping for Chenle’s elbow so he could hold him captive. “Leave me alone, Jaemin.”

“What is up with you? Why are you like this?”

“I just don’t like you drinking…” Chenle wiggled his way out of Jaemin’s grip, but he kept his stance in the room. “I don’t like seeing you drunk.”

“And I don’t like seeing you starving yourself, but I also have to suck it up, don’t I?” Chenle scoffed.

“I am not starving myself.” This made Jaemin roll his eyes. When he had reached for Chenle’s arm, the young boy’s bones were what scraped past Jaemin’s fingers. 

“We’re playing that game again?” Jaemin crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one leg so his hip popped out slightly. “You’re barely alive. Calling you a ghost would give you too much credit.”

“And you’re a fifteen-year-old addict.”

“So we’re both fucked up! Then why aren’t you talking to me anymore?” Chenle shook his head and stepped past the older boy. 

“Goodbye, Jaemin.”

And while Jaemin normally had no issue being right, he strongly disliked the fact that he had been correct about Chenle and his disordered habits. Jaemin didn’t want to see his ex-best-friend slowly killing himself by refusing to eat. He was getting skinnier with the month and even when Jaemin was convinced the boy couldn’t physically lose any more weight, the fat around his nose and eyes disappeared and there was very little difference between Chenle and the skeleton that was propped up against the wall in their biology classroom.

Almost a whole year went by when Chenle finally collapsed. He had been able to hide it for a long time, but during gym class his knees gave out and his whole body buckled under its own weight.

It was horrifying to see. Jaemin was standing on the sidelines, his body buzzing from the alcohol he had drank that morning before his first class, and his fingers tingling from his nicotine addiction. He stood there, frozen in time and space while Chenle fell to the floor. It wasn’t like it happened in the movies, it didn’t happen gracefully or slowly. He just gravitated to the vinyl flooring and he hit the plastic with a loud thud that echoed through the whole room.

Everyone stopped with what they were doing. Almost thirty curious heads turned around in unison. Jaemin dropped the ball he was holding and sprinted to the boy, cradling him in his arms while he cried for mr. Ten to come over.

“Oh dear,” he muttered while he rested the back of his hand against Chenle’s cold forehead. His skin, blue from his veins, was freezing. Jaemin could feel the lanugo brush against his hands, the hairs that kept him warm while his body was shutting down. Jaemin kept Chenle close to his chest, not letting go, too afraid to know what might happen if he let go.

“Come on, Jaemin, let me take over. We should take him to the infirmary.” Jaemin shook his head. Who knows what they might remove from Chenle’s body next? How much more dignity could they take from the young teenage boy? Jaemin didn’t want to think about it. His mind was everything but coherent, he hadn’t had a clear thought in months, yet he was awfully certain about this. 

“Let me carry him.” Ten hummed and turned to the class.

“Everyone, go shower and head to your next class. Class ends early.” Through his sweat-drenched shirt, Jaemin felt the warmth of Ten’s hand in between his shoulder blades. “Come on, Jaemin, let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jaemin never enjoyed being in the infirmary. He hated the bright white tiles and the beige walls. He hated the smell of disinfectant. He hated how the school nurse coughed into her hands with which she would treat you and he hated how silent it was that one could hear a needle drop. Jaemin hated every single painful minute he was in there, bouncing his leg while waiting for mr. Ten to come back with news about Chenle.

It didn’t help that Jaemin always associated the place with being sick. With stomach bugs and lice and injuries. Especially when he was younger, he would sometimes spend weeks on end stuck in the bed that was hard as stone. If one hated the mattresses in the dorms, Jaemin knew that they had never experienced the mattress in the infirmary because even the ground would be a better alternative than whatever it was that they forced young boys to lay on. 

“Jaemin?” 

“Yes?” Jaemin got up and straightened his gym shirt. His trainers squeaked when they slid over the tiled flooring. Jaemin raised his head when mr. Ten walked out of the actual sickbay, into the waiting room. 

“How is it going?” Jaemin asked upon seeing how pale his teacher looked. 

“He’s not doing great. His heart is beating too slow and his blood pressure is way below what it should be.”

“Should we take him to the hospital?” Mr. Ten shook his head.

“I called mr. Suh and he is on his way. He doesn’t want to create a big commotion, so for now, Chenle will stay here.” The only things Jaemin knew about eating disorders were the few times they were mentioned in the books in the library or when one of the guys would joke about it. It wasn’t a discussed topic, it was even more taboo than sexual acts or feelings. Yet, the little things that Jaemin did know about it was enough for him to ring the alarm bells.

“But mr. Ten, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jaemin pleaded. “Don’t you think he needs more help?”

“Sorry kiddo, but boss’s orders. I cannot do a lot.”

“But Father Suh is going to kill him!” Jaemin’s cheeks were a bright red, his vision was blurry and his eyes stung from the tears that he tried to keep inside. His voice broke when he yelled, a small part of his inner-child peeking out through his desire to look mature. Jaemin blocked the door, keeping mr. Ten from leaving. 

“Please, please, please, mr. Ten! Chenle is going to die here.”

“I am sure Father Suh knows what he is doing, Jaemin…”

“Just like he knew what he was doing when he castrated him?” Jaemin cried. He had no right being this upset about it. Chenle had completely abandoned him, yet Jaemin was better than that. He wasn’t going to let Chenle go down on his own. If they sunk, they would at least be together, Jaemin was going to make sure of it. 

Mr. Ten put his hands on his hips and sighed deeply. He shook his head, eyes casted downward.

“Jaemin, I know you want me to do something, but I am just a gym teacher. I have no say in what goes on inside these walls.”

“So you’re just going to leave him here? Leave us here?”

“What do you want me to do?” 

“Anything, please, just anything.” Jaemin collapsed onto his knees, folding his hands together and holding them up high to show his mercy to anyone who would listen. “I am begging you, please just don’t let him die. He needs help.” Mr. Ten bit his lip.

“I can try talking to Father Suh another time, but I cannot promise he will listen.”

“Do you really want the death of a fifteen-year-old to be on your conscience? Do you? Is that what you want?” 

If only Jaemin knew, he later thought, if only he knew, he wouldn’t have pressured Mr. Ten as much as he did. Yet, Jaemin was just sixteen-years-old and he was scared. The world felt too big, too cold and too overwhelming for Jaemin’s hormone ridden and undeveloped frontal lobe to handle and he didn’t have the privilege of lashing out against his parents. He had to bottle up his feelings, bury his desires until they morphed into shame and guilt. 

Jaemin couldn’t have known what the years might hold. All he was sure about was that Chenle was in danger. The present was tangible, something that Jaemin could feel and see while the future and the past were mere experiences that Jaemin had to believe in. His memories were skewed and the future wasn’t set, so he could only really trust in what was happening right in front of him. 

“Chenle!” Jaemin yelled when he finally got the heads up to visit him. Ten had in fact been able to convince Father Suh that the boy needed more treatment, so Jaemin had gone, with father Qian as a chaperone, to the nearest hospital where Chenle was staying. 

It was a sight to get used to, Chenle was in a hospital bed, the light was sucked out of his eyes. There were wires attached to him, going under his oversized sweater and monitoring so much data that Jaemin’s head began to spin when he looked at all the screens and papers that were scattered around. He even had a tube stuck in his nose that was being held up by a bunch of glittery pink and baby blue stickers. 

Everything was so awkward, but Jaemin swallowed his unease away and showed his best version of himself. He had even abstained from alcohol and cigarettes for a good week so that he was as sober as he could when Chenle saw him.

“Jaemin.” Chenle sounded more pleased than Jaemin had expected him to be. The last time they actually talked, it didn’t exactly go well. Yet, Jaemin assumed that Chenle was just in dire need for some company. “And Father Qian! Thank you for visiting.” 

“Of course.” Father Qian had stopped by a supermarket to get some flowers and a plush dog. He spent a good fifteen minutes debating with Jaemin if they should buy chocolate, but regarding the circumstances they felt it might seem like it was done out of bad taste. Jaemin had told him that maybe Chenle would like a plushie more and father Qian had told him that it was a great idea. 

“I will leave you two boys alone for a while.” Father Qian ruffled Chenle’s hair and walked out of the hospital room. “If you need me, I’ll be in the cafeteria.”

“Okay.” Jaemin pulled a chair closer to Chenle’s bed. 

“How’s school?” Chenle asked once the awkward silence stuck to their skin like sweat on a warm summer day. 

“It’s going. Boring without you.”

“I bet. I am the funniest person ever.” Chenle grinned and winced when his nostrils flared up, the tube inside them irritating the skin. Jaemin smiled like he had a toothache and rubbed his arm. It was hot in the room, so he bundled up his sleeves and raised them. 

“You are not. I am the funniest person. You’re the second funniest.”

‘You are lying.”

“Am not.”

“Yes you are.” Jaemin rolled his eyes and leaned backwards in his chair, throwing his head backwards so that he could look at the clock behind him. It was upside down from how Jaemin was looking at it.

“How are you doing?” Jaemin decided it was time to stop beating around the bush and to ask what he had been meaning to ask. “I mean, are you getting better?” Chenle shrugged.

“I don’t know. I have a psychologist here. She thinks I am, but I don’t know. It’s not like recovering from the flu or a broken leg.”

“Are the people here nice, at least?” 

“Some of them. Most of them aren’t, but I can’t blame them.” Chenle’s pupils flicked from Jaemin to the window. The grey sky was all they could see from the floor they were on, but the infinite universe of a colour so bright that it hurt Chenle’s eyes helped him calm down. “I also wasn’t the nicest…” He stopped talking, waiting for Jaemin to say something, but the older kept his mouth shut so Chenle continued.

“The youngest here is eight… She also made these stickers for me.” He pointed at his face. 

“Eight?”

“Yeah…” Chenle pulled his sleeves over his hands. “It all feels so helpless sometimes, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Jaemin got up from his chair and wiggled his way beside Chenle. He wrapped his arm around him and Chenle rested his head on Jaemin’s shoulder. “It’s how I felt watching you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jaemin tightened his grip around Chenle. “I didn’t smoke or drink before I came here.”

“Really? You did that for me?”

“I’d do a lot for you,” Jaemin answered honestly. 

“I know.” Chenle tilted his head so that they locked gazes together. “Ten told me you helped me get in here… While I hate it here, it’s better than the nurse's office.” 

“Ten?”

“He visits me a couple times a week.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“There are a lot of things you do not know, Na Jaemin.” Chenle lifted his head, their lips awfully close. Jaemin swallowed harshly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.” Chenle closed the gap between them, their lips meeting. Jaemin removed his arm from Chenle’s shoulder, instead wrapping both his hands around the younger boy’s waist and holding it. He was so skinny, so fragile, yet he moved like he was seven feet tall.

Jaemin was forced to part his lips slightly so that Chenle could roam his mouth with the same curiosity that he had for anything he did. Chenle was a holder of adoration, of wonder and of awe. He did everything with passion and with care. Nothing he pursued was done with any amount of slack and kissing was no exception. 

“Chenle-” Jaemin moaned, unable to suppress his desire. Chenle shushed him.

“Jaemin, I have wanted to do this for so long and I am sick and tired of these hospital walls. Let me do this. Just this once.” Chenle was pleading even though Jaemin didn’t even want him to stop. He just didn’t want the young boy to do anything he would later regret. Yet, there was very little Chenle could do that would make Jaemin want him to stop. 

“Just this once? What if I want more than just one time?”

“That’s a future problem.”

While buckling his belt and zipping his trousers, Jaemin entered the cafeteria, scanning the place for his teacher who was nowhere to be found. Jaemin turned around, walking outside to see if his teacher had gone to get some fresh air, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw through the grated window how Father Qian was standing awfully close to someone else. Jaemin sneaked closer to the door, his breath leaving clouds on the cold glass, as he pressed his face against it.

In front of him, Father Qian was leaning against a fence, and Ten, Jaemin’s physical education teacher, was standing in between his arms, biting his lip to withhold a giggle. Father Qian leaned forward so their noses brushed against each other. 

It felt bittersweet to watch his teacher loving someone the same way that Jaemin loved Chenle. Tender in every way shape and form possible. It was raw and it hurt and it was sensitive. But also delicate and soft and caring and it was everything that Jaemin wanted for himself.

Quietly, Jaemin turned himself around and walked to the cafeteria where he got himself a coffee and took place on one of the uncomfortable chairs, lending some privacy to his teachers. 

“Here, take a hit.” Jaemin had lit up the freshly-rolled joint and held it out to Chenle. “Breath in, hold it and breathe it into your lungs, and exhale.” Chenle did exactly what he got asked, the sweet and grassy taste hitting the back of his throat. Chenle stiffened a cough so his eyes became teary and he handed the joint back to Jaemin.

“So this is what you do all day every day?”

“Not every day and not all day,” Jaemin defended himself. 

“But?”

“I do it occasionally. Even for Mark, weed’s hard to get.” Chenle chuckled.

“So who’s your dealer?”

“A magician never tells his secrets… Now, come here.” Chenle raised his eyebrow, but did what Jaemin asked. The two were on the school’s rooftop. The early sun of the budding season was beginning to rise, just not yet making its way past the fléche. Chenle got up, his body quivering while he walked closer to Jaemin who wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his lap.

“Hello,” Chenle whispered.

“Hey.” Jaemin took a hit of the joint, letting it cool down in his mouth before he pulled Chenle by his collar, closing the distance between them. He crashed their lips together, parting them ever so slightly so the smoke entered Chenle who took a deep breath. It was softer this way, cooler. It didn’t irritate his throat as much. 

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Jaemin did it again, Chenle’s mouth fitting perfectly around his. After the third, Chenle was getting bored and he began to use his tongue to play around. Jaemin moaned around him, letting the cigarette roll down the roof until it got stuck in the drain. Chenle pushed his hands behind Jaemin, rolling his hips against his hard one. Jaemin huffed. Chenle just enjoyed seeing Jaemin getting all worked up. 

“Asshole.”

“You love me.” 

“I do.” 

They were in Father Qian’s class when the topic of the future came on the agenda. Jaemin and Chenle were staying behind after class, chatting to each other and their teacher about some of the equations and starting an innocent discussion about maths and why it even is important in the first place.

“It helps you understand the world better,” Chenle said, being on the side of his teacher. Jaemin rolled his eyes and crossed something out in Chenle’s notebook.

“This will help you understand the world better.” When Jaemin was done with scribbling over the homework, he snatched Chenle’s notebook away from him and drew some male genitalia in the middle of the page. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Quit it. That’s inappropriate,” Father Qian intervened, but he had his smile hidden by his hand. 

“Why? Everyone here in school has them?” Jaemin had always wondered why they were so secretive and pretended like anything that had to do with the reproductive system was off-limits. In the end, it’s not like every boy hadn’t tried to do something with it at least once.

“It’s prohibited. It’s sinful to talk about such things.”

“Father Taeyong used to talk to us about these things.” Something had shifted throughout the years. Jaemin found himself being more gravitated towards Kun than towards Taeyong, which might have had something to do with Chenle and how he looked terrified whenever Father Taeyong entered a room. He also became different. It was as if the warm-hearted man was only reserved for the youngins. As soon as they became too old, he threw them out of the nest even if they had no idea how to flap their wings yet. 

“Well, it’s not bad to talk about these things… But encouraging it is where the sin lies.” Chenle pushed his notebooks and pencils into his letterman. “And Father Taeyong doesn’t know boundaries,” Chenle muttered right behind it, just soft enough for Jaemin to hear.

“You’re very smart, Chenle, you should consider working here.”

“Oh, no offence, Father. But rather not.” Father Qian laughed. 

“Got bigger plans?”

“I want to get out as soon as possible. I want to play the piano. Move people with my music, you know?” Father Qian shook his head while Jaemin thought it was a phenomenal idea. “And I’ll take Jaemin with me while I travel the whole world. He can accompany me.”

“What is he going to do?”

“I will carry all his luggage.” Jaemin rolled up his sleeve and showed off his pathetic-looking biceps. Father Qian tutted.

“Such a waste of potential.” Chenle shrugged and threw his bag over his shoulder. 

“It’s better than staying here.” With patient eyes, Chenle looked at Jaemin, waiting for him to also collect his stuff.

“Don’t you think you’re wasting your potential?” Jaemin asked. Father Qian’s shoulders slumped and he looked around as if to see if someone was eavesdropping on them.

“Sometimes.”

“I think you should think about leaving as well,” Jaemin said, now also getting his belongings. “This place is not meant for people like us. Let’s go, Chenle.” Chenle and Jaemin spun around on their heels, skipping out of the classroom and leaving their teacher behind, stunned and at a loss for words. 

From that day on, Chenle made a promise to himself. He was going to get out and he was going to become a pianist. Jaemin was cheering for him on the sidelines, sneakily bringing him food during their lunch breaks and dinners and dropping it off with a kiss on his hair and a quiet: “Please eat well.” Before he left again, making sure that none of the teachers grew suspicious of him. 

Chenle spent every waking hour practising the piano. Even during his classes, he was dancing with his fingers on his desk, hearing the notes in his head until he composed the perfect symphony.

It became a routine, something that both Jaemin and Chenle looked forward to. Jaemin loved walking in on Chenle, hearing the boy being so perfectly in his element while his hands held a shindig on the keys. The songs he played ranged from upbeat and chirpy, the embodiment of their love for each other, to melancholic and gloomy. Jaemin always wondered what kind of traumas Chenle must be dealing with to be able to come up with such anthems for the lonely and broken hearted. It was comforting, but Jaemin sometimes had to rush out of the room before he started crying himself, the music overtaking him and overpowering him.

And then, a day before Chenle’s sixteenth birthday, the boy came running towards Jaemin during their free period. Jaemin had been playing soccer outside with Mark, Jeno and Donghyuck until Chenle jumped onto his back.

“Jaemin.”

“Chenle.” Jaemin shook the younger one off of him and pulled him aside so his friends could continue the game. “What’s going on?”

“So, I was in the library on the computers, right?” Chenle had this dopey grin on his face, an expression that Jaemin had never seen before. “And I was looking around and I saw this!” Chenle pushed the paper with a printed-out website page on it into Jaemin’s face. Jaemin leaned his head backwards, reaching for the note and reading it himself.

“Musical institute scouting, ages fifteen to nineteen…” Jaemin muttered to himself. “Oh- Oh my God, Chenle! If you’re gonna do this, you can get out of here!” Chenle nodded excitedly.

“I know! And I don’t even have to be eighteen. If I get scouted I can just… I can leave! And you can move in with me and we can start a life together and… And it’ll finally be worth it.” Chenle flitted his eyes around before dragging Jaemin to a covert spot right behind a wall.

“We can finally be… You know… Us.” Chenle whispered while he pressed a quick kiss on Jaemin’s lips. Jaemin grinned at him.

“You are so cute when you’re happy.”

“I am happy because we can finally get out. There’s hope for us, Jaemin!” 

“There’ll always be hope for us, Chenle. We can do this.”

And just as fast as winter came, winter ended and spring passed and summer was just around the corner again. The golden hue of warm sun rays basked the entire institute and the boys were wearing their shorts again rather than their long, black trousers. Anywhere you looked, scraped and bruised knees were in sight from the boys playing and wrestling outside. 

All of them, not a single one was exempt from the scars that covered their knees, legs and elbows. If you didn’t have one, the other boys would be sure to give you one. It was a way to show everyone that you had survived, that you had persevered. Even when the world may seem to end, when the blood doesn’t seem to stop, wounds can always heal. 

Jaemin was no exception. His legs were covered in white and purple marks from playing hide-and-go-seek with his peers in the bushes. They would crawl through the thorn-covered hedges, not even realising the blood they had drawn until they were back in class and the adrenaline wore off. 

Even Chenle had his legs covered in the same scars. While his legs, still skinny- but getting better, as Jaemin so often had mentioned, were a canvas for healed accidents. Sometimes, when the two were feeling sentimental, they would trace each other’s marks until they fell asleep like that, in each other arms, knowing that whatever the world might throw at them, they will get better.

However, even though Jaemin knew every inch of Chenle’s body, he was surprised to see that Chenle wasn’t wearing shorts. In the almost 35 degree weather, he was wearing his black trousers that hugged his waist awkwardly, sagging in the back as they weren’t tailored to Chenle’s frame. 

“What are you doing?” Jaemin asked one morning while they were getting ready for breakfast. 

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you wearing that? It’s so hot outside.”

“Oh, I’ve just been cold lately.” Jaemin squinted his eyes and wrapped his fingers around Chenle’s wrist.

“You’ve been eating, right?”

“I’ve been eating fine, Jaemin. I’m just… cold.” Chenle shook Jaemin’s concern away. “We’re going to be late.”

“Chenle, wait?” Chenle turned around and Jaemin’s breath hitched. “Promise me you’ll talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Yet, when Jaemin saw Chenle leaving that doorway, he knew that the young boy was lying to him. He could feel it in the air, thick from the unspoken truth that Chenle kept sealed somewhere deep inside him. 

Jaemin swallowed harshly. He had hoped that now that Chenle was working towards something, things would get easier. Maybe he could get better. And for a little while, things actually were getting better. Jaemin couldn’t exactly recall when he started to feel like he was back at the beginning.

Jaemin picked up his own habits more and more, hiding it from Chenle who seemed apathetic to everything that was going on around him. If Jaemin had to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that he wasn’t even hiding it from Chenle anymore. The boy just… He didn’t care that Jaemin smelled like a bittersweet mixture of vodka and marijuana. 

Things were getting worse again between Chenle and him, Jaemin was sure of it. However, he had no idea what he and Chenle even were. How was he supposed to fix a barely-existing issue that broke something that Jaemin didn’t even know what it was?

Jaemin was luckily very good at gaslighting himself, and he was able to tell himself that it was because of the upcoming audition. Jaemin just prayed to God that as soon as Chenle went through this, they could go back to being normal. Chenle would get better and Jaemin would almost be old enough to get out of here. 

Just a bit longer, he told himself. Just one more day.

And as if God heard his prayers, around Christmas time, Chenle got the wonderful news that he had passed the first round of auditions and that the following round would be a live performance in front of a scout. Jaemin was not only thrilled, but also nervous for his best friend who didn’t seem to be doing much better.

“When is your performance?” Jaemin asked while Chenle was behind the piano.

“In two weeks.”

“So soon?” Chenle hummed. Jaemin pushed Chenle aside with his hips and joined him on the stool. He rested his hands on the piano, playing a simple melody while Chenle played along. 

“You know that I am proud of you whatever happens, right?”

“I know.”

“And that if you do not make it, it’s not the end of the world?”

“Yeah.” Chenle sighed deeply, closing his eyes and letting his musical genius take over. “I just don’t think I can live here for a whole year when you’re not here, you know? If I get scouted, it means we will move out around a similar time!”

“I know. But I just want you to be prepared for whatever happens.”

“You do believe in me, right?”

“I think you are the best pianist in the entire world.” Chenle laughed softly, his cheeks heating up. Jaemin kept replayin the same chords over and over again. It was the only thing he was familiar with. While Chenle kept playing, his hands moved up the tones until his hand bumped against Jaemin’s. Without looking, Chenle intertwined them. He finally opened his eyes so that he could see how Jaemin had his head turned towards him.

“I really like you, Jaemin.”

“I really like you too, Chenle.”

“You know, I am not even nervous.” Chenle’s lips turned upwards and he leaned against Jaemin. “Because I know that whatever happens, you will always be here, right by my side.”

Jaemin had just wished that it would go both ways. He was tapping with his foot on the ground, his arms crossed while he leaned against the door. That same afternoon, Chenle had promised Jaemin that he would be the first person to hear the finished piece.

“It is written for you,” Chenle had told him and Jaemin had begged him to play it right then and there, but Chenle always had been stubborn and kept his feet steadily on the ground. He wasn’t going to budge and Jaemin needed to accept it. 

“Promise me I’ll be the first person to hear it?” Jaemin had asked.

“I promise.” They locked their pinkies and that was it. Jaemin had believed Chenle on his word, yet he was starting to feel nauseous when he was running out of time before the scout would arrive. 

That morning, Jaemin had seen Chenle right before lunch when Father Suh asked him to join him for a second. Chenle told Jaemin to wait by the music room and they would meet up there, so when Jaemin finished eating, he did. Like a dog, Jaemin waited patiently for Chenle to arrive. 

Except he never came. 

The uneasiness Jaemin felt grew bigger, his hands grew sweatier and his mouth drier. Jaemin knew something wasn’t right. Chenle would have been here by now. Chenle wouldn’t ditch him like this. Chenle wasn't like this. Those were the sentences Jaemin tried to tell himself while anger fell over him. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe, five years of knowing someone wasn’t enough. 

With blurry vision, Jaemin kicked his foot around before he started walking. He cursed Chenle for promising him that he was special, for making Jaemin believe that he was special. 

The sound of gospel echoed through the hallways that Jaemin strutted through, his presence was small compared to the walls that closed in on him. The stone rejected all the sound-waves and they bounced around until they reached Jaemin’s eardrums. A collective sound of hundreds of voices singing in Latin, the mouths of all the boys agape so that their song of God would even be heard in the heavens. 

A church bell rang. Not one time. Not two times. Three times three strokes did it interrupt the song that had sped up the pace, matching Jaemin’s heartbeat as he was now running through the hallways. His hurried steps were clashing with the beat of the knell. While he was running, tears spilled from his eyes. They cascaded down his cheeks, flying like raindrops while he kept on hasting. Jaemin knew he was too late, yet he hoped that a miracle might cast down on him and he could outrun Father Time.

Jaemin came to a halt when he was in front of the infirmary. He threw the door open, watching as the nurse, Father Suh and Father Taeyong were all bent over a table with a white cloth. Jaemin sobbed, cried, begged God that this wasn’t true. He clammed his hands together, beseeching that if God did exist, he’d let it be anyone else. Anyone on that table but Chenle.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jaemin yelled when he saw Chenle’s lifeless face staring back at him. His lips were blue, his hair slightly messy and the top buttons of his dress shirt were unbuttoned. He didn’t look like the boy Jaemin had bid his goodbyes to that afternoon. He didn’t look like the boy who had promised Jaemin the world. He didn’t look like the boy who had promised Jaemin he was special and never broke that promise, it was Jaemin who did: he had left Chenle’s side.

“Sir Jaemin, you’re not supposed to be in here-”

“You killed him! You killed him! You fucking monsters! You killed him!”

“We didn’t kill him. We found him like this.”

“It was most likely suicide.” Every promise Chenle had made him, every smile he had shown Jaemin these past few months, every sparkle that would show in his eyes whenever he talked about leaving this place haunted Jaemin. They spiralled around him until they captured Jaemin in their tangly web of what-if’s and he-said-she-saids.

“No! Liar!” Jaemin kicked the table so it rumbled. The body that was on it, Jaemin refused to call it Chenle, fell down. Jaemin collapsed over the cold iron slab. Through the rot, he could smell his Chenle. He could smell his warmth and his love. 

“Mister Na, this is highly inappropriate!” Father Suh pulled Jaemin up by the collar, the fabric digging into his oesophagus. “Pull yourself together, please.”

“You killed him!” 

“He killed himself. He was a goner before he even got here. This was just the final straw,” Father Suh had hissed through his clenched jaw. Jaemin’s heart sank. 

“To call yourself human is a disgrace to everything God stands for!” Jaemin yelled, yanking on Father Suh’s arm until he released him. Jaemin fell to the floor, overtaken by guilt and anger and sadness. 

“Mister Na, wait!” Jaemin didn’t even care anymore. He ran. He ran until he was out of breath and until his lungs were on the brink of collapsing and then he ran even more. He ran until his feet ached. He ran until he could taste iron in the back of his throat. He ran until he bumped into someone.

“Sorry.”

“Ah, no worries. Perchance, you are not Zhong Chenle, right?” Jaemin looked at the male who had a few silver strands scattered throughout his thinning hair. Jaemin shook his head, vanning his face. Now that he had come to a halt, he felt how exhausted he was. 

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I had an appointment with him today, but he never showed up.” The male sighed deeply. “A shame, truly. The kid had so much potential.” Jaemin almost started to cry again. There was so much left undone. So much that Jaemin still wanted to tell him, so much Jaemin still wanted to show him. Yet there was no one to listen to him anymore. There was no one to love him anymore. Jaemin was completely and utterly alone, just like how Chenle had been when he took his last breath. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you maybe give him my info. I’d really like to give him a second chance.” Jaemin hummed.

“I’ll make sure to get it to him.”

“Thank you so much.” And while the male walked away, Jaemin slid to the floor. He held onto the business card so tightly that it crumbled in his palms. Jaemin pulled his knees to his chin. He buried his face in his arms and he cried. He cried so loud, he was sure that angels had never existed. It was just the devil and his sobs were so heavy, he was sure Satan could hear them from Hell; scaring even the Devil himself. 

The engine of his car roared when Jaemin pulled up on the gravel driveway. It was foggy, the weather forecast having lied about it being dry as there was a slight drizzle that bathed everything in sight. 

Jaemin zipped his coat up higher, hiding his nose into his scarf. The thorns of the roses penetrated his gloves and Jaemin was almost sure he was bleeding. Almost. 

He stretched his neck, looking at the gothic building that was still standing strong. Even though it had been vacant for years now, it was never removed. It still stood like the eye-sore it was, in between those boundless fields. The space around it was vast and everlasting. It only got interrupted by this horrible building.

As the wind soared past them, he could hear the pillars cry. They were apologising for all the pain they had caused. However, it was too little too late. Jaemin would never forgive the walls that were supposed to protect him for giving up on him. 

Jaemin crouched down on the wet dirt, his baby-blue jeans getting ruined, yet it was the least of his worries. Jaemin placed the bouquet of roses down underneath the old oak tree. And while the branches kept him away from the downpour, Jaemin folded his hands and closed his eyes. It had been thirty years since Jaemin had done this. It had been thirty years since Jaemin visited. It had been too long, but he just hoped that Chenle would understand. 

“Wherever you are, whenever you might hear this, I hope you are safe and I hope you know that even though it took a long time- the underworld is not a nice place, I looked back. I will always look back.” 

When Jaemin was really quiet, he was sure he could hear Chenle’s voice again, echoing through the grass, through the soil and through the moss. It called for him, it yearned for him.

“Thank you for loving me.”