“Ya, Park Jisung,” Chenle throws one of his pillows at him. It bounces against Jisung’s face with a soft thud, too fast for him to even react to it.
The whole world seems to be moving so quickly, lately. Even spending his free time in Chenle’s bedroom — still preserved with the afterglow of childhood in this dying afternoon light, so familiar it might as well be his second home — reminds him of this fact. Jisung’s legs no longer fit alongside Chenle’s when they lay on his bed, ankles dangling precariously over the edge instead.
“Did you hear me?” Chenle demands. “I said, Renjun’s coming back in two weeks, so make sure —”
“I heard you the first time,” Jisung interrupts, still thinking about his toes hanging out in the air. When he’d been younger, he had hated sticking his legs outside of the blanket, burrowing into the safety of his comforter instead. He figures that adulthood is a lifetime of cold feet.
He rubs at his eyes, sighing, then grabs the pillow Chenle had lobbed at him and hugs it to his chest. “I can’t believe a year’s passed already.”
“Renjun wants you to come, too,” Chenle says, casual enough for Jisung to tell he’d been choosing his words carefully. “He asks about you, sometimes.”
“Whatever,” Jisung mutters underneath his breath.
—
Later, Jisung considers his reflection in the mirror. His acne has disappeared, leaving a couple of smudgy scars in its wake. He grew a couple inches, and he’s finally settling into the deep edges of his voice. He looks more grown up now, doesn’t he? What would Renjun think?
He asks about you, sometimes. Jisung imagines it, Renjun wondering about how he’s doing, caring about how he feels. The worst part is that he knows Renjun does care — that’s one of the things Jisung likes best about Renjun, how kind he is — but it’ll never manifest itself in the way Jisung desires.
A year has passed since Renjun left on an exchange program.
A month before that, Jisung had confessed his feelings to his best friend’s older brother.
The day after, Renjun had shown up at Jisung’s doorstop, eyes pleading and mouth pursed in a worried line.
And during the minute before Jisung heard Renjun’s apology, that single, continuous moment of his mother answering the door and calling for him and Jisung running down the stairs, breathless, wondering what Renjun would tell him—
Well, for a moment, Jisung thought he had a chance.
—
“Your letter was very sweet, but I can’t accept your feelings,” Renjun had told him. He stood framed by the darkness, but his face reflected the light that streamed out from Jisung’s house.
Jisung thought that he looked angelic, like this.
“Did you even consider it?” Jisung asked, pleading. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, hated the way Renjun softened in response to his question.
He had seen Renjun around the boys and girls he liked. That version of Renjun was sharp and pointed, his flirting like little bullets. Jisung had watched it in action at Donghyuck’s house once, observing the way Renjun’s prickly, wanting posture covered his crush on Jaemin like dark chocolate coating caramel.
“You’re so young, Jisung,” Renjun said, gentle and honest. He had no pretences, here. “Your letter…” He sighed, looking down at the ground.
“What about my letter?” Jisung bit down on his lower lip.
Renjun looked back up. They were the same height, a year ago, and Jisung remembers feeling entranced by Renjun’s eyes. “I know two years doesn’t seem like a big gap between you and me,” he continued. “But it’s a lot, right now.”
Jisung had never felt that there was a gap between him and Renjun before, not when Chenle’s family is like a second home for him. But that conversation had widened any distance between them into a chasm he couldn’t cross.
—
Renjun glints in the sunlight, hair golden-blonde and lovely, when he opens the door. Jisung pauses on the front porch, nervous.
It’s the same moment, except reversed. Jisung still loves him, but his prior adolescent infatuation has since calmed into something more quiet and steady.
“You’ve grown up,” Renjun says, a surprised smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Jisung shrugs, a little self-conscious. He’s taller than Renjun now, and can see where Renjun’s black roots are beginning to grow in at the top of his scalp. It’s a weird feeling, this new perspective.
Yet somehow, it seems right.
--
a/n I ORIGINALLY READ THIS AS brother's best friend RIP
cold feet - renjun (nct) / jisung (nct) - au
The whole world seems to be moving so quickly, lately. Even spending his free time in Chenle’s bedroom — still preserved with the afterglow of childhood in this dying afternoon light, so familiar it might as well be his second home — reminds him of this fact. Jisung’s legs no longer fit alongside Chenle’s when they lay on his bed, ankles dangling precariously over the edge instead.
“Did you hear me?” Chenle demands. “I said, Renjun’s coming back in two weeks, so make sure —”
“I heard you the first time,” Jisung interrupts, still thinking about his toes hanging out in the air. When he’d been younger, he had hated sticking his legs outside of the blanket, burrowing into the safety of his comforter instead. He figures that adulthood is a lifetime of cold feet.
He rubs at his eyes, sighing, then grabs the pillow Chenle had lobbed at him and hugs it to his chest. “I can’t believe a year’s passed already.”
“Renjun wants you to come, too,” Chenle says, casual enough for Jisung to tell he’d been choosing his words carefully. “He asks about you, sometimes.”
“Whatever,” Jisung mutters underneath his breath.
—
Later, Jisung considers his reflection in the mirror. His acne has disappeared, leaving a couple of smudgy scars in its wake. He grew a couple inches, and he’s finally settling into the deep edges of his voice. He looks more grown up now, doesn’t he? What would Renjun think?
He asks about you, sometimes. Jisung imagines it, Renjun wondering about how he’s doing, caring about how he feels. The worst part is that he knows Renjun does care — that’s one of the things Jisung likes best about Renjun, how kind he is — but it’ll never manifest itself in the way Jisung desires.
A year has passed since Renjun left on an exchange program.
A month before that, Jisung had confessed his feelings to his best friend’s older brother.
The day after, Renjun had shown up at Jisung’s doorstop, eyes pleading and mouth pursed in a worried line.
And during the minute before Jisung heard Renjun’s apology, that single, continuous moment of his mother answering the door and calling for him and Jisung running down the stairs, breathless, wondering what Renjun would tell him—
Well, for a moment, Jisung thought he had a chance.
—
“Your letter was very sweet, but I can’t accept your feelings,” Renjun had told him. He stood framed by the darkness, but his face reflected the light that streamed out from Jisung’s house.
Jisung thought that he looked angelic, like this.
“Did you even consider it?” Jisung asked, pleading. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, hated the way Renjun softened in response to his question.
He had seen Renjun around the boys and girls he liked. That version of Renjun was sharp and pointed, his flirting like little bullets. Jisung had watched it in action at Donghyuck’s house once, observing the way Renjun’s prickly, wanting posture covered his crush on Jaemin like dark chocolate coating caramel.
“You’re so young, Jisung,” Renjun said, gentle and honest. He had no pretences, here. “Your letter…” He sighed, looking down at the ground.
“What about my letter?” Jisung bit down on his lower lip.
Renjun looked back up. They were the same height, a year ago, and Jisung remembers feeling entranced by Renjun’s eyes. “I know two years doesn’t seem like a big gap between you and me,” he continued. “But it’s a lot, right now.”
Jisung had never felt that there was a gap between him and Renjun before, not when Chenle’s family is like a second home for him. But that conversation had widened any distance between them into a chasm he couldn’t cross.
—
Renjun glints in the sunlight, hair golden-blonde and lovely, when he opens the door. Jisung pauses on the front porch, nervous.
It’s the same moment, except reversed. Jisung still loves him, but his prior adolescent infatuation has since calmed into something more quiet and steady.
“You’ve grown up,” Renjun says, a surprised smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Jisung shrugs, a little self-conscious. He’s taller than Renjun now, and can see where Renjun’s black roots are beginning to grow in at the top of his scalp. It’s a weird feeling, this new perspective.
Yet somehow, it seems right.
--
a/n I ORIGINALLY READ THIS AS brother's best friend RIP