Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Nervous?”

Jaemin whirls around, relaxing when he sees Renjun at the door.

“Yeah,” he says, laughing weakly. “Is it obvious?”

“Just a little,” Renjun says, mouth quirking up in a grin. Their eyes meet, from across the room, and Renjun’s smile broadens. He comes in, wrapping his hands around Jaemin and hooking his chin on Jaemin’s shoulder. “You look good.”

Renjun’s hair tickles his neck, and Jaemin swallows, hyper-aware of each centimeter of Renjun pressed against his back. “Thanks. Uh, you too.”

Because Renjun does look good, Jaemin thinks, blinking twice at the mirror. Even in the same graduation gown as him and everyone else in their university, Renjun stands out, dark hair parted neatly in the middle, with his bright eyes and even brighter smile.

He looks more than good. He looks — like a dream.

Jaemin’s heart thumps in his chest when Renjun’s reflection smiles back at him.

“Four years,” Renjun says, squeezing his arm gently. “The hard part’s over. Let everyone celebrate you, okay? It’s your day.”

“Our day,” Jaemin says, correcting him, and Renjun’s eyes soften.

“Our day,” he repeats, smile small and private. His eyes find Jaemin’s in the mirror. “Let’s go graduate.”

Jeno’s already waiting for them when they get to the door, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone disinterestedly.

“Took you long enough,” he says teasingly to them both, but his hands are already reaching out for Renjun’s. “Got cold feet already?”

“Perfection takes time,” Jaemin snarks back, ignoring the way their fingers link together as Jeno draws Renjun closer to him. “You wish you could look like this.”

Jeno arches an eyebrow, gaze sweeping over Jaemin’s body slowly.

“Like that?” Jeno asks. He grins. “No thanks. Sure you don’t want to go back in for a second?”

The warmth spreading throughout his body from seeing Jeno’s smile is long-familiar, and Jaemin ignores it easily, rolling his eyes and waving Jeno’s words away.

“Asshole,” he says amusedly, bending down to put his shoes on. “You look great too.”

Jeno laughs but doesn’t respond, and when Jaemin straightens, Renjun’s whispering something to Jeno, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“...don’t you?”

Both sets of eyes swivel to Jaemin’s face. He blinks.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Jaemin says. “If you’re done, we can go.”

There’s a slight flush to Jeno’s cheeks and a smug smile playing at Renjun’s lips, but Renjun lets go of Jeno and grabs his keys, stepping forward to twist the door open.

“You know I’m right,” he says to Jeno, before looking at Jaemin. “After you.”

“Jaemin!”

Jaemin cranes his neck, trying to find whoever just called his name. The main green is swarming with people, thousands of students and faculty and family members making their way around and congratulating each other.

His own family is off to the side, his parents talking with Jeno’s parents. After commencement had finally, finally ended, they’d been dragged straight into photos with what felt like an endless rotation of relatives and extended relatives and family friends and friends of family friends…

Now, free to wander around, Jaemin has taken to greeting all of his classmates, bowing to every other person and taking what could very well be their last photos together.

“Behind you ~”

A familiar weight lands on his back, hands sneaking up to cover his eyes.

“Guess who?”

Jaemin laughs, recognizing his voice immediately.

“Hyuck,” he says, hoisting him up on his back and relishing in the shriek Donghyuck lets out. 

“Fine, you win,” Donghyuck says indignantly, smacking Jaemin’s shoulder. “Put me down! Do you know how long I spent ironing all the wrinkles out of these?”

Without waiting for a response, he clambers off, taking his phone out and opening it up to his camera.

“Take a picture with me,” Donghyuck says dramatically, waving his other hand around. “I haven’t seen you all day. This might be our last selfie togeth — damn, okay, Jaemin, at least try to take me seriously.”

Jaemin breaks down into laughter at the expression on his face. “Sorry,” he says, suppressing his smile. “For some reason I thought we’d be working at the same lab next fall. Glad to hear that’s not the case, though. Thank god I won’t ever have to see you again.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s the vibe of graduation,” he says, air-quoting the word ‘vibe’. He leans in conspiratorially. “Don’t ruin the magic for all of our classmates. Now stand still, pretty, and let me take a selfie with you.”

Jaemin smiles, wide and easy at the camera. Donghyuck clicks the shutter a minimum of five times, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek in the last two.

“Gross,” Jaemin says, wrinkling his nose and pushing him away after a few more clicks. “Did you have to do that?”

Donghyuck hums, tapping at his phone. “Mmm, of course I did. Mark’s in town for graduation, you know, so I think I’m gonna text him those photos and ask what he thinks.”

“And...sent,” he says, pocketing his phone. “I know he’s on his phone right now. Wonder how long it’ll take him to reply.”

“You’re evil,” Jaemin says, smile spreading across his face as Donghyuck phone pings, three times in succession.

Donghyuck grins devilishly, ignoring the buzzing of his phone. “I know. Congrats about magna, by the way. I told you you could do it.”

“Okay, Mr. Summa cum laude,” Jaemin says playfully, pinching Donghyuck’s cheeks. “Thanks though. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Damn right,” Donghyuck says. “Who else would’ve practiced flashcards with you in the library basement until two in the morning? Not me, if you weren’t so cute, that’s for sure.”

“Jaemin,” Jeno’s voice sounds from behind him. “Mom said — oh.”

Jaemin turns, just in time to see the way Jeno looks at Donghyuck, expression souring.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Hi to you too, Donghyuck,” Jeno says, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t know you were with Jaemin.”

Donghyuck’s smile curls across his face. “What,” he says, turning his too-wide grin to Jeno. “Exes can’t be friends?”

“Not what I meant,” Jeno says, but his expression smoothes out quickly. “Anyway, Jaemin, mom said dinner’s mandatory. Some of them are on their way already, but I told her we’d go together, and she said that was fine.”

He shifts, eyeing Donghyuck’s hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. “Text me when you’re good to go? I can drive.”

“Not the mandatory dinner,” Jaemin groans. “How early do you think we can leave?”

“No idea,” Jeno shrugs. “I’m just the messenger pigeon. Knowing them? A few hours, minimum, probably.”

“We should probably go now, shouldn’t we?” Jaemin sighs. “Let’s go then.”

He turns to Donghyuck. “Text me those pictures, okay?”

Donghyuck’s phone dings defiantly in response.

“And cut Mark some slack,” Jaemin says, raising an amused eyebrow. His lips quirk upwards. “Poor man’s probably been texting you for the last ten minutes.”

“I’ll think about it,” Donghyuck says flippantly, like they don’t both know that he’ll reply the second Jaemin leaves. “Text me this summer, okay?”

“Of course,” Jaemin says, tugging him into a hug. “Don’t think graduation’s going to stop me from tagging you in really bad chemistry memes from Facebook.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Donghyuck says, hugging him back warmly. “Now leave. I have a boy to boyfriend.”

“Only you,” Jaemin says fondly, but he lets Jeno tug him away after one final wave goodbye.

Jeno’s mood lightens considerably after they leave, humming to himself as they pull out of the parking lot.

“What restaurant are we going to again?”

“Some fancy one,” Jeno sighs. “I think it’s one of the downtown ones that just opened.”

“Of course it is,” Jaemin says, rolling his eyes. “Menu any good?”

“Beats me,” Jeno says, shrugging. “You know I haven’t been out to eat since before finals.”

“Oh yeah.” Jaemin blinks. “Wait. Not even with Renjun last week?”

“Hm?” They slow at a stop sign. “Oh, I guess I did. I forgot about that.”

“Where’s Renjun, by the way?” Jaemin asks curiously. “I didn’t get to see him after commencement ended.”

“His family’s also celebrating,” Jeno says, snorting. “I told him we’d try to get out of ours, and he said, and I quote, ‘good luck with that.’”

“Renjun knows,” Jaemin says, nodding wisely. “It’s impossible to escape an extended family gathering unscathed. I still remember Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jeno says grimly. “I don’t think anyone will be forgetting about Thanksgiving anytime soon.”

“Exactly.”

The kind of silence that permeates the car, then, is comfortable, the upbeat crooning of some old song playing over the radio, and Jaemin dozes off eventually with the gentle rocking motion of the car.

His blissful non-sleep lasts for close to half an hour, and the next time he stirs, it’s because of Jeno’s voice.

“I feel like I haven’t seen Donghyuck in forever,” Jeno says, much, much later, and Jaemin opens his eyes reluctantly.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, straightening in his seat. “He’s been really busy with grant applications, I think.”

“That’s good,” Jeno says, and Jaemin hums.

“Yeah, it’s really nice” — a yawn — “since he’s doing some pretty cool research over the summer.”

They stop at a red light, and Jeno looks over at Jaemin, smiling slightly. “Graduation really tired you out, huh?”

Jaemin swallows another yawn, stretching his arms out. “Maybe. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because, you know. Nerves.”

The light turns green, and Jeno eases back on the gas as they start moving forward again. “Me too, actually,” he says, eyes fixed on the road. “We really graduated, didn’t we?”

“We’re real adults in our real adult world now,” Jaemin says, smiling. “No more college bubble.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” Jeno says, taking a left into a parking lot. “Oh, I think we’re here.”

Their car comes to a stop, parked, and Jeno huffs, digging his keys out of the cupholder.

“It’s just crazy how the rest of our lives are really about to happen. Kind of scary, if you think about it. Like, what happens now? Where do we go?”

“I guess we’ll see what tomorrow brings,” Jaemin muses, reaching out to turn the radio off. The soft crooning cuts off with a touch, and he looks at Jeno. “When it comes.”

“When tomorrow comes?” Jeno tilts his head. “I like that. Very poetic.”

“Thanks,” Jaemin laughs, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door. “Let’s make it through this dinner first, though.”

Jaemin is not drunk.

He tries to stand, focusing valiantly on the floor in front of him, but as soon as he gets up, the carpet swirls around him. 

He sighs, collapsing back into his armchair. Okay, he thinks. So maybe he’s a little drunk.

He shouldn’t have done the last round of toasts, he thinks to himself, head pounding slightly. But someone’s husband’s cousin had come up to him, insisting that he was the man of the hour, that he’d be doing him a favor by having just one drink with him, really, just one more — and then he’d found himself in the middle of yet another group of relatives, clamoring that they all had toast to him, that it was only fair, that you only graduate once in your life.

If he concentrates, he can remember his mom finding him when he’d gotten back, whispering in his ear — Jeno left a while ago, said to call if you needed a ride — before disappearing again, the scent of her vaguely chrysanthemum perfume prominent in her absence. 

What time is it?

His screen lights up, and Jaemin groans when the numbers swim into view. 23:10.

He has to get home, he thinks, and he stumbles to his feet, pulling up a map. The world has stopped spinning, at least, and he makes his way out of the restaurant, ducking past the larger groups of people.

Outside, the cool air sobers him up considerably, and he leans against the glass windows of the restaurant, debating between calling someone to pick him up and just calling a car. It’s too late to disturb anyone, he thinks with a frown, zooming out on the map, before noticing the bus logo one block down.

Scheduled to arrive in 3 minutes.

Jaemin maps the route out quickly, calculating the nearest bus stop from his apartment, before breaking out into a jog towards the end of the street. When he arrives at the bus stop, panting and slightly sweaty, his map shows less than one minute remaining.

Sinking onto one of the metal benches, he loosens his tie slightly. Pulling his wallet out, he digs through it for his student ID, sighing in relief when he finds it still tucked into one of its pockets.

The sound of rumbling grows louder, and he looks up to see a familiar, blue bus pulling up to the bus stop. He nods to the bus driver tiredly, swiping his card at the door, before choosing a seat in the middle and settling in for a long ride.

When Jaemin gets off the bus, it’s exactly two minutes to midnight.

“Have a nice night,” the bus driver says to him, and Jaemin murmurs his thanks, stepping off the bus and onto the sidewalk. It’s a ten minute walk to his apartment, and by the time he makes it there, he’s just on the side of uncomfortably warm.

Shuffling into the elevator, he stares blankly at the advertisement tacked onto the inside of the doors.

Pizza for two — for the price of one!

The elevator dings, and he shuffles back out. Stifling a yawn, he pulls his keys out, twisting them and jiggling the doorknob to unlock the door.

Finally, the lock yields, and he pulls his keys back out. The door swings open, and he shuffles forward, toeing his shoes off and dropping his keys on the shoe cabinet, before rubbing his eyes and  —

Jaemin startles, dark brown eyes meeting his.

“Renjun?”

They stare at each other for another two seconds, before Jaemin shakes his head, tossing his jacket somewhere on the couch and flicking the lights on.

“Renjun?” Jaemin repeats, crouching down carefully and touching Renjun’s hand. “What happened?”

Renjun looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “We broke up,” he says hoarsely.

Jaemin’s mouth drops open. “You — and Jeno —”

Renjun flinches at his name, and Jaemin cuts off, exhaling slowly.

“...you’re serious.”

“I mean, it might be a break,” Renjun says, voice tiny. He sniffs, bringing a hand to his face to wipe at his eyes. “Instead of, you know, an actual breakup. I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Okay,” Jaemin says, dumbfounded. “Is he — did he leave?”

“Yeah,” Renjun says, rubbing at his eyes. “I, um. Don’t know where he went. But his stuff is still here.”

“Right,” Jaemin nods, mind spinning. A dozen questions rise on the tip of his tongue, and he worries at his bottom lip while worst-case scenarios fly through his head. What happened? Who broke up with who? Why? Are you still going on your graduation trip together?

Jaemin takes one look at Renjun — eyes swollen, still sniffling — and takes a deep breath. One thing at a time.

“How can I help?” He asks gently, squeezing Renjun’s hand. “Do you want a hug?”

Renjun moves his hands to peek out at Jaemin through his fingers. “A hug would be nice,” he says, voice cracking, and Jaemin’s heart aches.

“C’mere,” he says quietly, pulling Renjun into a hug. Renjun goes easily, still shaking slightly, and Jaemin makes a soft noise, tightening his grip.

“Your shirt’s wet,” Renjun says regretfully, after a while, and Jaemin huffs out a breath of surprised laughter. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, brushing Renjun’s hair away from his eyes. He reaches out to grab the tissues on the living room table. “Here.”

He wipes at Renjun’s face carefully. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers, rubbing Renjun’s back. “You’re not alone, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

Renjun jerks his head in a nod.

“Thank you,” he says, voice small and vulnerable, and Jaemin’s heart stutters in his chest when Renjun drags his eyes up to meet his own.

“Renjun,” he says weakly.

“Jaemin,” Renjun says softly. And then — again. “Jaemin.”

His name is reverent on Renjun’s lips, and when Renjun leans in, lips brushing against his, Jaemin finds that it tastes like a prayer, too. When he licks into Renjun’s mouth, he can taste the faintest traces of alcohol, sharp and intoxicating, and his hands come up instinctively to bracket Renjun’s waist.

It has to be the wine, Jaemin thinks, because there’s no other reason why he’d let Renjun kiss him — why he’d kiss him back.

A small noise bubbles up in Renjun’s throat when he squeezes, cutting through the fog of the kiss, and Jaemin inhales sharply, jerking himself backwards.

“Jeno,” he says, voice trembling, and watches Renjun’s face crumple. It’s as much a reminder to Renjun as it is to him, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, breath catching at the thought of betraying his friends’ trust in a moment like this for his own gain.

His stomach turns unpleasantly. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Renjun stares at him, eyes glistening. It’s never been easy to read Renjun, Jaemin thinks, but now — it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. He licks at his lips, instinctively, only to flush when Renjun’s eyes dart downwards towards his mouth.

“You’re right,” Renjun whispers eventually. “I shouldn’t have.”

Jaemin presses his hands into his eyes.

“You need some rest,” he says shakily. He opens his eyes and tries to avoid looking at Renjun. “You can take Jeno’s room. If — when he comes back tomorrow, I’ll leave, and you two can talk it out. We can pretend like this never happened.”

Renjun stays silent, and Jaemin looks up at him. “Please,” he says weakly. Selfish hope and guilt alike curdle in his stomach, and he forces both feelings down. “Let’s just forget about it, okay? For Jeno.”

For me too, he doesn't say.

Renjun’s breath is shaky. “Right,” he says quietly, and a tear slips, quietly, down his cheek. He brushes it aside, swallowing roughly. “Okay. I — I can do that.”

Getting Renjun settled in is easily one of the most awkward processes of Jaemin’s life.

“You can borrow one of Jeno’s...shirts,” Jaemin says, voice trailing off hesitantly. “Or you can borrow one of mine, I guess.”

“I’ll take one of his,” Renjun says quietly, hands twisting nervously as he sits on Jeno’s bed. “I know where he keeps his things.”

“Right,” Jaemin says, like Renjun hasn’t stayed over too many times to count before. He hovers near the door, unsure. “I’ll go find a toothbrush.”

“Okay,” Renjun says. “Thank you.”

The awkwardness is unbearable. “No problem,” Jaemin croaks out, before he hightails it to the bathroom.

When he gets there, he flicks the lights on with a sigh.

They really have to start cleaning this drawer out, Jaemin thinks dryly to himself, rooting through it for an extra toothbrush. His fingers brush over a plastic bag — left over from someone’s dentist visit, most likely — and he pulls it out, tipping it upside down to catch the toothbrush that falls out.

A slip of paper falls out, too, and when he bends down to pick up, the words Patient Name: Lee Jeno swim in front of his eyes.

Jaemin’s first thought is that Jeno wouldn’t mind. Then he remembers, exhaling sharply through his mouth.

God, the irony, that Renjun would be using Jeno’s toothbrush to clean the same goddamn mouth that had just —

He cuts the thought off before it can go any further, shoving the paper back into the plastic bag and dropping it back into the drawer. The toothbrush goes on the counter as he leans against the sink and pulls out his phone, marble digging slightly into his back.

He clicks the phone on without unlocking it, fingers playing with the edges of the screen.

Finally, he caves.

Are you okay?

His phone buzzes almost immediately after, and he almost jumps, glancing at the door to make sure it’s closed. It is.

Still, he scoots farther away from the door, just in case.

His fingers are shaky when he swipes across his screen, connecting the call.

“Are you with him?”

Jaemin swallows roughly. “Yeah,” he says, other hand curling into a fist at his side. “I am.”

There’s a long pause.

“Good,” Jeno says eventually, voice tight, and Jaemin sucks in a breath.

“And you?” He asks carefully. “Are you...safe? Do you need me to bring you anything?”

On the other end, Jeno is silent, and Jaemin hesitates, worrying at his lip.

Fuck it. Jeno’s his friend too.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m worried about you too, okay?” Jaemin says in an exhale, fingers tightening on his screen. “I know how you get — just. Don’t shut me out, okay? Talk to me.”

“I’m at Doyoung’s,” Jeno says quietly. “I’m okay. You don’t have to come over. You should stay. With him.”

Static crackles over the line. “I mean, it’s good that he’s not alone,” Jeno says. “That he has you.”

“Right,” Jaemin whispers, flushing with shame. He clears his throat. “I’ll stay here, then. You have your keys?”

“Yeah,” Jeno says. “I don’t know if I’ll be back later, but I’ll text you either way.” His voice gentles. “Don’t stay up, okay? Sleep if you’re tired.”

Emotions — love, concern, guilt — overwhelm him, and the sight of his own reflection in the mirror is suddenly too much to bear.

“Okay,” he says, closing his eyes. It’s a coward’s apology. “You too. Come home soon, okay?”

“I will,” Jeno says. There’s a half beat of silence. “Sorry for putting you in the middle of all this.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jaemin says helplessly, feeling even worse. “You know I don’t care about that. I just want you — both of you — to be happy.”

With each other, he adds on silently in his mind. He knows Jeno hears it.

“I know,” Jeno sighs in reply, a crackle of air over the phone. “Still, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Probably.” 

“You better,” Jaemin says softly, and hears Jeno laugh shakily in response.

“Definitely then,” Jeno promises. “You should probably go.”

“I should,” Jaemin whispers. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Jeno echoes, and the call ends.

And that’s how Jaemin finds himself, standing barely side-to-side with Renjun in their small, one-person bathroom.

“This is yours,” Jaemin says, pushing the cup closer to Renjun. “You can, um. Use my toothpaste.”

“Got it,” Renjun says, almost shyly, and Jaemin looks away when he rolls his sleeves up, reaching out for the toothbrush.

He stares stoically down at the bowl of the bathroom sink as he brushes his teeth, examining the way leftover toothpaste suds create swirling patterns in the sink. To his left stands Renjun, their shoulders a careful distance apart.

They stand there, with nothing but the soft swish of bristles to fill the widening silence, until they’re done — Jaemin first, and Renjun has to shuffle, a bit awkwardly, to the side, to give him space to rinse and wash his toothbrush off; then Renjun, and they switch positions.

“So,” Jaemin says, while Renjun is drying off his hands. “Do you take morning showers?”

“Oh,” Renjun says, releasing the towel and turning to face Jaemin. “No, not usually.”

“Cool,” Jaemin says, a bit uselessly, as they shuffle out of the bathroom, one in front of the other. “I didn’t think so, but just wanted to be sure.”

“Yeah,” Renjun says, voice trailing off as they reach Jeno’s bedroom. He pauses in the doorway, half-turning in Jaemin’s direction. 

The moonlight from the window casts strange shadows on Renjun’s face, his expression indecipherable.

“How is he?”

Jaemin weighs his options, before slumping his shoulders in defeat.

“Could be worse,” he says, mouth twisting in a half-grimace, half-smile. “Could be better, too. He’s not alone, so don’t worry too much. I made him promise to come back tomorrow, at least, so I’ll make breakfast and find somewhere to be for the rest of the day while you guys work it out.”

Renjun exhales, fingers twisting nervously.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Thank you. I just — wanted to know.”

You can go, Jaemin hears, and he nods stiffly. “Sounds good.”

He’s halfway down the hallway, hand outstretched to twist the doorknob to his own bedroom, when —

“Jaemin?”

When Jaemin looks back at Renjun, he’s still in the doorway of Jeno’s bedroom, eyes dark and unreadable. “Yes?”

“I don’t regret it.”

Jaemin freezes.

“And regardless of what happens tomorrow,” Renjun continues softly, “I need you to know that I won’t regret it.”

Jaemin’s breath catches in his throat.

His voice is shaky when he replies. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” Renjun sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Jaemin — Jeno and I — I can’t say that this was totally unexpected. We’ve been arguing about...certain things more often lately. We argued during our date last week at dinner. This is just the first time it’s gone so far. And the first time that you’ve had to deal with it.”

He presses his lips together, crossing his arms in front of himself. Jeno’s shirt is long on him, reaching down to his thighs, and Jaemin feels his throat go dry as it bunches up around his waist. 

“Which I’m sorry for, by the way,” Renjun says haltingly. “What I did wasn’t very fair to you.”

“It’s okay,” Jaemin says weakly. “I get it.”

“I just don’t want to lose you too,” Renjun says in a rush, covering his face with his hands. “Jaemin, you were my first friend here. I know you’ve been friends with Jeno for ages, and I know that I shouldn’t — I can’t expect things to be the same after we break up — ”

“Don’t,” Jaemin cuts in. “You don’t know that.”

Renjun looks at him, eyes knowing and sad. “Oh, Jaemin,” he sighs, “I think I do.”

“You can’t give up now,” Jaemin insists. “You love him. He loves you. You know he loves you. He’s going to come back tomorrow, and you’re going to talk to him, and it’s going to work out.”

Renjun’s gaze drops to the floor. “You’re not wrong,” he says quietly. “But love can’t keep a relationship afloat forever. We — there’s a reason we’ve been arguing for a while.”

“Sometimes, you love with all you have,” he says, resigned, “and it just isn’t enough.”

Tell me about it, Jaemin thinks bitterly, and their conversation sinks into a heavy sort of stillness.

Renjun straightens after a few more seconds, coughing awkwardly. “We should sleep.” He gives Jaemin a smile — tired, but still lovely enough to make Jaemin’s heart skip a beat. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Jaemin says back, watching as Renjun disappears behind the door before sagging against the wall.

He checks his phone. 2:53.

I need to sleep, he thinks, collapsing into his bed without bothering to close the curtains. Thumb hovering over his usual alarms, he hesitates, before adjusting them to an hour later. 10 o’clock was barely seven hours of sleep, anyway.

He rolls over and buries his head in his pillow.

Things would be better tomorrow. He’d make sure of it.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Jaemin slams a hand down on his covers, fumbling for his phone in the dark.

BEEP. BEEP. BE—

Finally locating it, he taps randomly on the screen, until the alarm stops blaring.

He blinks blearily at his screen. 9 o’clock.

Jaemin groans. Didn’t I set it to 10 yesterday?

Making his way out of bed, he goes to pull his curtains open.

Wait, he thinks, pausing in front of the window. Didn’t he...

His phone dings.

It’s from Renjun, to both of them — Jeno and Jaemin — in their group chat. 

I’ll be there soon! ^^

Jaemin doesn’t drop his phone, but it’s a near thing. Slowly, his eyes slide over to his closet door, where he’d hung his clothes for graduation two nights ago after ironing them.

There they are, now — jacket neatly arranged with his cap and gown, and definitely not where he’d thrown it on the couch yesterday.

He notes, almost unthinkingly, that the tassel is on the wrong side.

“What the fuck,” he whispers to himself, after a few seconds pass and nothing changes. He half-expects Jeno and Renjun to burst in — just kidding, Jeno would say. April fools! 

Never mind that it’s nearly June.

He checks his calendar anyway. There’s only one thing on his list of events: blocked out over a couple of hours, in a bright green square — Graduation!!

Another ding.

Coming up now!

Jaemin exhales sharply. There has to be a rational explanation, he thinks, almost desperately. There’s no way that it’s yesterday again. It doesn’t even make any sense. He’d graduated yesterday. Had been dragged to dinner with his family and too many extended relatives to count or care about, with Jeno and his family. Had finally returned to their tiny dorm a little past midnight to find Renjun alone.

And Renjun had...kissed him.

Jaemin’s face flushes immediately at the memory. Renjun’s mouth had been soft and warm, the kiss itself a bit like the dessert wine he’d undoubtedly had earlier that night — honey-sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. Had he imagined that, too?

No, Jaemin thinks. That had most definitely been real.

He looks at the date on his phone. Then back to his graduation gown.

Making his mind up, he slides out of bed, peeking out into the hallway. It’s quiet, and Jaemin steps out carefully, holding his breath.

When he peers into the living room, he sees Jeno, leaning against the wall next to the door, phone in one hand and keys in the other. 

Jeno, Jaemin thinks faintly. He’s here.

Then — then, the door clicks open, and Jaemin’s eyes shoot upwards as Renjun walks in.

“Hey,” Jaemin hears Jeno murmur, to Renjun, and he slides his gaze away when he sees Jeno lean in from the corner of his eye.

The kiss doesn’t last long, a quick press of lips, but the easy intimacy still makes Jaemin’s chest tighten. He recognizes the dull ache of jealousy for what it is, though, and turns to the side, mind whirling.

His thoughts come slowly. He looks up again, like the fact that both Jeno and Renjun are wearing their graduation gowns is something that would have changed in the last thirty seconds. It hasn’t. No cameras, either — no sudden realization that he’s on a show, or in a movie.

I’m dreaming, Jaemin thinks. That, or I’m losing it.

A sigh, sweet and filled with longing, interrupts his thoughts.

Jeno murmurs something that Jaemin doesn’t quite hear, and Renjun replies in an equally soft voice. It doesn’t matter that he can’t make out what they’re saying, really, because Jaemin still burns at how fond both of them sound, twin voices gentling into what can only be another kiss.

Jaemin allows himself five more seconds: two to inhale, two to exhale, and one more in mental preparation. You know what that’s like now, his mind whispers torturously to him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, crumpling the thought like paper and shoving it away into the recesses of his mind.

He has to get dressed, he remembers, and tries to make as little noise as possible as he stumbles blindly back into his room.

“Nervous?”

Just like yesterday, Jaemin whirls around in his chair to find Renjun leaning against his doorframe, lips quirked into a smile.

Fuck, Jaemin thinks, looking at Renjun. Down to every last detail.

Maybe I’m psychic now, he thinks, and almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. How else could he explain this situation?

Renjun’s smile fades a little when Jaemin doesn’t reply.

“Are you nervous? Don’t be.”

And because Jaemin’s life is apparently the butt of some elaborate, confusing cosmic joke, Renjun then comes and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“You look good,” Renjun says, eyes sincere, and Jaemin follows his gaze to the mirror.

“Do I?” Jaemin asks, deciding to test the waters. He purses his lips skeptically. “I don’t think I slept very well last night.”

“I think you always look good,” Renjun says honestly, and Jaemin feels his mouth go dry.

“Right,” he says, swallowing. “You look good too.”

Renjun beams. “Four years,” he says gently, and — oh, Jaemin remembers this. “The hard part’s over.”

Let everyone celebrate you, okay? It’s...

“...your day.”

“Our day,” Jaemin says again, and just like yesterday — or his dreams — Renjun’s eyes soften.

“Our day,” he repeats, except this time, Jaemin can’t bring himself to meet Renjun’s eyes. “Let’s go graduate.”

Again.

 “Took you long enough,” Jeno says, when they come out. “Got cold feet already?”

And Jaemin just — stares.

There Jeno is, smiling and reaching out to tug Renjun closer, like nothing’s wrong. Their fingers tangle together easily, and — they look fine, Jaemin thinks desperately. What is he missing? What happened?

“Hey,” Jeno says, frowning slightly. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t think I slept too well,” Jaemin says. It’s not a lie. “Just...getting the weirdest feeling of déjà vu.”

Jeno’s eyes soften. “Me too,” he says. “I didn’t get that much sleep either.”

I know, Jaemin wants to say. You told me yesterday.

But yesterday isn’t real. It never happened. 

Or maybe it did, Jaemin thinks, and something just went wrong. A hiccup in the universe — one that accidentally left him behind. Some bizarre parallel universe that’s exactly twenty-four hours behind his own.

Instead of replying, Jaemin offers Jeno a weak smile. “Right,” he says, bending down to put his shoes on.

Right foot. Left foot.

This time, when Renjun whispers to Jeno, he listens a bit more carefully.

I told you...Jaemin...summer…

...don’t you?

Both of them turn to look at him again when he stands.

“Now or never, right?” Jaemin asks, smiling slightly. “Time to go.”

“You know I’m right,” Renjun says, stepping forward to twist the door open, and Jaemin shivers. He gives Jeno a meaningful look. “Think about it.”

“Jaemin!”

Donghyuck, Jaemin thinks, the first hint of a real smile on his lips. Right before Donghyuck can surprise him, he turns, relishing in the way Donghyuck visibly startles when they come face to face.

“Holy shit,” Donghyuck says, clutching his chest. “You scared me, oh my god. Jaemin, I just felt my heart in my throat.”

“Love you too,” Jaemin says, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he says dismissively. “Save that for your boys. I just want a picture.”

“My — what?”

“You know,” Donghyuck says, smiling at him slyly. “Your…”

He makes a vague hand gesture. “Situation.”

Oh, it’s so on.

“There is no situation,” Jaemin says, swatting at his hands. “Just take your pictures already, god.”

It’s surprisingly easy to muster up a grin for the camera, Jaemin thinks, as Donghyuck takes his selfies. But then again, their conversation has been surprisingly refreshing.

Before Donghyuck can lean in after the first few pictures, Jaemin swoops in first, pecking his cheek.

“You —”

Donghyuck lowers his phone, ears turning a bright red, and Jaemin can’t resist teasing him a little.

“These are for Mark, aren’t they?” He says, smile widening. “Might as well give him a little push. How is that going, by the way?”

“How did you know,” Donghyuck grumbles, but he sends the pictures anyway. “It’s going okay, I guess. Every time I think — this is it, he’s gonna do it — he always chickens out.”

“Well, it is graduation,” Jaemin says. “Who knows? Maybe today’s the day.”

“It better be,” Donghyuck retorts, but there’s no bite to it. He bites his lip nervously. “You really think so?”

“Maybe those photos will be the tipping point,” Jaemin says, shrugging. “You never know.”

“Hmm.” Donghyuck looks up at Jaemin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “In that case...don’t mind if I do.”

“Wait a second,” Jaemin says, backing up. “I don’t like that look.”

“Where are you going?” Donghyuck asks cutely, pouting. “I didn’t even say anything — Na Jaemin, stop running away from me!”

“Uh,” Jeno’s voice cuts in, and Jaemin jerks his head around to see him standing behind them, expression odd. “Am I interrupting something…?”

Donghyuck’s eyes light up. “Yes, actually,” he says. “I’m trying to get another photo with my dear friend, but he won’t cooperate with me. Isn’t that right, Jaeminnie?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jaemin huffs amusedly, tugging Jeno closer. “I already gave him the photos he wanted, he’s just being dramatic. What is it?”

Jeno’s mouth twists unhappily. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re having mandatory family dinners together today,” he says, hooking a protective arm around Jaemin’s shoulder. “So we should probably go soon.”

“Oh, right,” Jaemin says. “Let’s just leave now? Donghyuck, text me the pictures you took!”

“For sure,” Donghyuck says, winking at him. Whipped, he mouths behind Jeno’s back. Both of you.

“Bye,” Jaemin says, rolling his eyes. “See you in the fall!”

“Donghyuck, huh?”

Jaemin looks at Jeno. His expression is even, eyes focused on the road, and Jaemin hums, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah,” he says, raising his tone towards the end like a question. “What about him?”

“Nothing,” Jeno says, shaking his head. “Just haven’t seen him around in a while.”

“Yeah, he’s been pretty busy,” Jaemin says. “Grant applications.”

Jeno nods. “That’s good.”

“You know, I never knew why you didn’t like him,” Jaemin says curiously. “Even when we were dating. I still remember the way you used to react when you’d walk in and he was there. We barely even did anything.” He tilts his head. “Did we?”

Jeno’s fingers tighten just slightly on the steering wheel. “I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I think I just thought you deserved someone better.”

“Wow,” Jaemin says, smiling slightly. “Well, don’t let him hear that, or he’d throw a fit.”

“That’s kind of exactly my point,” Jeno says, lips flattening. “He’s — it’s hard to describe. He’d make fun of you a lot, and I guess it made me feel weird to hear him talking about you...like that.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jaemin says. “He never means it though.”

“Still,” Jeno says, biting his lip and merging lanes. “Don’t you like compliments more anyway?”

“Uh,” Jaemin says, feeling a slow flush crawl across his cheeks. “I mean...yes?”

Jeno humphs. “See? I’d be much better than him.”

CODE RED, Jaemin’s mind blares. MISSION ABORT.

“Right,” he says weakly, sinking into his chair and doing his best to not think of the implications of Jeno’s statement. “I...I think I’m gonna take a nap.”

He chances a look at Jeno — unfazed, as calm as ever — and breathes out a quiet sigh of relief. “Wake me up when we get there?”

“Okay,” Jeno hums, and Jaemin closes his eyes, mind running at a million miles a minute.

This time, Jaemin goes into dinner with a plan.

Right before they go in, he touches Jeno’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Can we stick together tonight?” He asks. “I’m not really in the mood to drink.”

Jeno grimaces. “Good idea. I don’t know if I’m feeling that either.”

“Amazing,” Jaemin says, taking a deep breath to brace himself. “You ready?”

“Can you ever really be ready for these types of extended family gatherings?” Jeno says dryly, and Jaemin laughs.

“Come on,” he says, taking Jeno’s hand and dragging them inside. “We got this.”

True to his word, Jaemin doesn’t even drink — instead, he keeps a careful eye on Jeno, following him from one room to the other. The first time someone tries to toast to Jaemin, he raises his glass of water instead, standing and apologizing.

“I’m driving today,” he says regretfully, and hears Jeno choke back a laugh.

“Ah, no worries,” the guest — Jeno’s uncle, he thinks — says, knocking back his own glass and patting him heartily on the back. “Safety first, of course. Congratulations to you both!”

When he sits back down, Jeno knocks his shoulder against his. “Driving, huh?”

“I could be,” Jaemin hisses through a smile, accepting a plate from someone and spooning some in each of their plates before passing it back. “Did you see his glass? I’d be absolutely plastered if I kept up with some of your relatives.”

“You would be,” Jeno says fondly, and Jaemin feels his cheeks heat up. “Your tolerance has always been terrible.”

“Not my fault alcohol tastes like shit,” Jaemin says, face warm. He taps his chopsticks against Jeno’s plate. “Now eat.”

Jeno indulges him, taking a bite. After a few seconds, his eyes widen.

“Wow,” he says, wincing and pushing his plate a little farther from him. “That’s...something, alright.”

“What?” Jaemin asks, raising an eyebrow. He sniffs at the chunk of food, squinting suspiciously at Jeno. “You’re not exaggerating, are you?”

“Nope,” Jeno chokes out, swallowing with some difficulty. “Try it yourself.”

Jaemin narrows his eyes, putting it in his mouth, and — 

“...oh.”

Delicately, he raises a napkin to his mouth, folding it afterwards and placing it on top of his plate. “Well, at least we tried.”

Around 22:30, Jeno’s phone buzzes.

“It’s Renjun,” Jeno says to him, after ending the phone call. “He says he’s done.”

He smiles wryly. “Also, he says that he’s kind of hungry, and honestly? So am I.” He takes a look around. “Wanna get out of here?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” Jaemin says, sighing in relief. “Let’s go.”

The way back is quiet. They drive past the bus stop, and absentmindedly, Jaemin wonders how the bus driver is doing. As they drive, the world outside them melts into nighttime, and Jaemin stares outside the window in a sort of daze.

Everything, he thinks, has come down to these last few moments.

Things will be different today, Jaemin tells himself as they arrive at their apartment. Five minutes to eleven.

“Renjun said he took the bus, but he’s only about fifteen minutes away,”  Jeno says, as they step into the elevator together. “He also said we can pick what to eat.”

The doors slide shut, and the elevator hums as they start moving upwards. “So what do you want to eat?”

“Something cheap,” Jaemin sighs. His eyes fall on the pizza advertisement, again.

Pizza for two — for the price of one!

“What about those?”

“Pizza?” Jeno asks. His face scrunches up weirdly for the briefest of seconds, before Jaemin blinks, and it’s gone.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

What was that?

“I mean, I don’t think we’ll eat that much,” Jaemin says. “And three for one is a pretty good deal.”

“Yeah, good point,” Jeno says, no hint of his earlier oddness. The elevator doors open. “I’ll order. I don’t think they do delivery, though.”

“Oh,” Jaemin says. “Well, it’s not that far away, right? I can go pick it up when it’s ready.”

Jeno just hums, nodding as they enter their apartment. Jaemin turns the lights on with a phantom shiver, half-expecting to see Renjun there when he turns around.

But the apartment is empty.

“Okay,” Jeno says, from behind him, and Jaemin releases the breath he was holding. “The order’s been placed. They said half an hour.”

“Great,” Jaemin says. He hesitates, before dropping his jacket on the couch again and pulling out his phone.

Exactly eleven.

“Do you know how far away this place is?”

“Hm?” Jeno twists to look at him from where he is at the dining table. “Oh, yeah. It’s like a ten minute walk. You know where the ice cream place is, right? It’s right behind that, to the left a bit.”

“Ah,” Jaemin says, “Okay, got it. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jeno mumbles, fingers flying over his phone screen, and Jaemin shifts, unexpectedly nervous.

This is uncharted territory, he thinks, wanting nothing more than for time to hurry up and yield into tomorrow.

Exactly eleven minutes later, there’s a knock on their door.

Jeno’s up before Jaemin, twisting the door open and — there Renjun is, bundled in a light jacket and carrying a bag.

“You could’ve just used your own key,” Jeno says, and from the couch, Jaemin can't see the expression on his face.

Renjun toes off his shoes, rolling his eyes and sighing. It’s fond, though, if a bit exasperated. “I was lazy, okay?”

He squints at Jeno, saying something quietly that Jaemin doesn’t hear.

“Yeah, I agree,” Jeno says, with the same quiet tone, and Renjun seems to melt, kissing him chastely and — Jaemin stops looking, skin pricking uncomfortably.

After a few seconds a weight plops himself down on the couch, next to him. 

“Hi Jaemin,” Renjun says, blinking at him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since commencement started. I missed you.”

Jaemin tenses reflexively at their position, before noting that Jeno is also sprawled out on one of the other seats, and he relaxes slightly. “Has it really been that long?”

“It felt long to me,” Renjun complains, bottom lip jutting out, and Jaemin laughs helplessly, letting him manhandle him into a comfortable position.

“I have to go pick up the pizza,” he complains weakly, after a few more minutes. “You’re going to have to let me go.”

“Tragic,” Renjun says, releasing him reluctantly. “Fine then.”

Jaemin hesitates at the door, turning back to look at the two of them. “Okay, I’m leaving now,” he says, a bit unnecessarily.

Jeno blinks at him. “Okay. I think my name’s on the order.”

“Got it,” Jaemin says softly.

“Come home soon,” Jeno adds, as Jaemin is halfway out of the door, and he shivers at the familiar words.

“I will,” he calls out, before turning and hurrying downstairs.

“I’m here to pick up an order?”

The pizza shop is fancier than Jaemin expected — clean, white floors that sparkle along with the smooth tabletops. It’s practically empty, though, and as he looks around curiously, he notes that he seems to be the only customer there.

The kid behind the counter looks up at him. “Sure,” he says. “Name?”

“Um, Lee Jeno,” Jaemin says, pulling out his wallet and waiting as the name is typed into the screen.

The kid’s eyebrows go up. “Oh,” he says, tapping a few more buttons before looking up. “Yeah, this order’s already been paid for. I’ll go get it for you.”

“You can do that?”

The employee pauses near the door to the kitchens. “Yeah,” he says, “if you’re a member on the app.”

Jaemin’s lips part in surprise, and he nods slowly, taking in the information. Membership, huh?

“I take it you’re not Lee Jeno then?” The kid is back, dropping off two boxes onto the counter. “Here you go, by the way.”

“Yeah, he ordered, but I’m just picking these up for us,” Jaemin says, hoisting the boxes in his arms. “Thanks.”

“Okay, because I was about to say,” the kid says, smiling slightly. “Since I’ve seen him here with his boyfriend every month for like...as long as I’ve been working here. He was here last week, I think. So I was pretty sure you’re not him.”

Jaemin pauses, turning back to look at the employee.

“Sorry,” he says, a bit apologetically. Jisung, his name tag reads. “Should I not have said that?”

“No, just,” Jaemin says, head whirling with thoughts. Every month. Last week. “They were here last week?”

“Um,” Jisung says slowly, looking around the store. There’s no one else, though, and he puffs his cheeks out nervously. “Yeah, they were. My shift always starts right before they leave, so I always see them.”

We argued during our date last week at dinner, Jaemin thinks to himself slowly, and he drops the boxes back on the counter.

“Okay,” Jaemin says. “Jisung, right?”

Jisung’s eyes dart around. “Yes?”

“Did you...happen to catch what they were talking about?”

Jisung winces. “Now I really feel like I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says. Then, weaker — “am I going to get him into trouble?”

Jaemin blinks. “What?” Then realization dawns on him, and he flushes, smiling embarrassedly at Jisung. “It’s not like that,” he says, tripping slightly over the words in his haste to get them out. “Wow, no. Definitely not like that. They’re both my friends. I’m just, um. Worried.”

“Oh.” Jisung’s shoulders slump in relief. “I really thought — sorry. Happens more often than you think.”

“In a pizza parlor?”

“Yep,” Jisung says, “you’d be surprised.” He purses his lips. “But no, I didn’t really hear anything. By the time I got here, they weren’t really...talking to each other anymore. You’d probably have to ask my coworker? He has the shift before me.”

So they were arguing, Jaemin thinks faintly.

“Right,” he says, nodding slowly. “When does your coworker work?”

“Oh,” Jisung says, eyes glazing over as he concentrates. “His next shift isn’t until next week. You can come...next Wednesday? Yeah, any time Wednesday from four to nine.”

“Wednesday,” Jaemin repeats in despair.

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugs. “Sorry. He just clocked out around an hour ago. That’s the next time he’ll be here, I think.”

“Oh, he was here earlier today?” Jaemin brightens. “Same shift?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says slowly. “Four to nine on Sundays.”

“Fantastic,” Jaemin says, checking the time and sucking in a breath. Twelve minutes to midnight. He picks the pizza boxes up again, cradling them to his chest as he jogs to the door. “I gotta run now, but I’ll ask him if I see him. Thanks, Jisung!”

“No...problem,” Jisung says, watching the door swing shut. 

Weird.

Jaemin makes it back exactly one minute before midnight, panting as he exits the elevator. Pizza boxes still in hand, he kicks at the door a few times, leaning against the wall as he waits for it to open.

When Renjun opens the door, Jaemin all but tumbles inside, dropping the boxes gracelessly on the table. “Wow, that was a workout,” he says breathlessly. “Sorry that took so long.”

“It’s fine,” Jeno says, sliding past him to the kitchen. “We were just talking, anyway.” He takes out two plates, then pauses.

“Are you still eating?”

The question is directed at Renjun, and Jaemin slides his gaze over to see him purse his lips.

“Yeah,” Renjun sighs out eventually. “Yeah, let’s just eat.”

It’s only then that Jaemin notices the awkward atmosphere in the room, and he hovers between the two of them, unsure.

“Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” Renjun blinks up at him, straightening. His smile is strained. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re not in the mood, you don’t have to eat,” Jaemin says, already tugging his phone out of his pocket. “I can order something else —”

Renjun cuts him off with a touch to his arm, and Jaemin’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly.

“Jaemin,” he says softly, kicking Jaemin’s heartbeat up by about two hundred counts per minute. “It’s fine. The pizza is perfect.”

Jaemin blinks.

“Okay,” he says, looking back at Jeno. “Okay?”

Jeno gets another plate out silently, padding over to the table and setting them down.

“Okay,” he says, finally, looking up at Jaemin. “Let’s eat then.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Renjun says, before he leaves. He pulls on his shoes, sighing quietly to himself when he notices that one of the laces is untied. “Or, you know. Second dinner.”

“Of course,” Jaemin says, when Jeno doesn’t say anything. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay?”

“Yeah,” Renjun says, picking his bag up. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Jaemin.”

Jaemin falters under the second thanks, blinking awkwardly. “Yeah,” he manages, looking questioningly at Jeno.

Jeno shakes his head slightly, and Jaemin frowns. 

“Text us when you’re back then.”

“Will do,” Renjun says, smiling at him, before he closes the door and leaves.

Jaemin rounds on Jeno the second the door closes. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Jeno mutters, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “We were just talking about our trip earlier.”

“That didn’t look like nothing to me,” Jaemin says, and Jeno sighs, purposefully avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t know,” he says evasively. “Sometimes it feels like college is just waiting for your real life to start.”

He flicks the lights off and shuffles over to the couch, dropping down on it and staring out the window. “But we’re done with that now. We graduated, right? Like, what’s going to happen to us? Where do we go from here? What are we supposed to do?”

“...are we still talking about Renjun?”

Jeno exhales, running a hand over his face. “Yes. No. It’s part of it, I guess.”

“Hey.” Jaemin hesitates, before climbing onto the couch too and hugging Jeno. “Is everything okay?”

Jeno hugs him back, squeezing tightly. “I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I...I don’t think I’ve known for a while.”

Jaemin sighs, a soft puff of air in the dark. “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

He can feel Jeno’s small smile against his shoulder, and he relaxes a bit, tracing circles against Jeno’s back.

“I don’t know where we’re going either,” he says softly. “I mean, there’s med school in two years, right? I’m probably going to apply, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the lab I work in and decide I don’t want to do that anymore. Or maybe I’ll love it and do research forever, instead of actually practicing.”

He takes a breath, leaning back and looking at Jeno. “At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter, because I know that I’m going to try and do whatever’s best for me.” He cups Jeno’s cheek. “And I know you will too, because you’re one of the most motivated people I know. That’s not really what you’re worried about, though, is it?”

Jeno’s laugh is barely audible. “No, I guess not,” he says, ducking his head down and playing with his fingers. “I think it's just that our lives — yours, Renjun’s, mine — they’re really not headed down the same path. Renjun and I...it’s complicated, but we’ve talked about it before, at least. I have no idea where you fit into that.”

And — wow, Jaemin thinks. That stings a little.

“That didn’t come out right, did it?” Jeno looks up at him, sighing. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jaemin tries very, very hard to keep the hurt from showing on his face. “No, you’re right,” he says, swallowing. “It’s not the same.”

“Stop,” Jeno says, taking his hand and tugging him closer. “Listen to me.”

Jaemin blinks at him silently, waiting for him to speak.

“We’ve always been together,” Jeno starts, slowly. “And because of that, I think I’ve just come to rely on the fact that you’re always going to be there a little too much. Because you’re going to have your own family one day, you know? And I will too. There’s going to be a day when we’re just going to be too busy to talk to each other.”

“I don’t want that,” he ends, resigned. In the dark, his expression is hard to make out, but his tone is clear as day. “But I can’t see how that won’t happen. That’s what scares me.”

Jaemin trembles. That’ll never happen, he thinks, because you’re the only one I’ve loved for eight years.

“Idiot,” is all he manages to say, though, flicking Jeno on the forehead and hugging him even more tightly than before.

When he’s sure that his voice won’t shake, too, he opens his mouth.

“When I say I’m always here for you,” Jaemin says, underneath Jeno’s ear, and feels him shiver, “I mean always, Jeno. You don’t have to worry about me leaving.”

He pulls back. “You have to tell me about these kinds of things, okay? I know we’ve known each other for eight years now, but that doesn’t mean I can read your mind.” He pauses. “At least not all the time.”

Jeno huffs a breath of quiet laughter. “You know, that’s what Renjun said. Told me to get it together and just talk to you about it.”

“Renjun was right,” Jaemin says, smiling weakly.

Jeno returns his smile, soft and private. “Isn’t he always?”

“Exactly,” Jaemin says. “So whatever it was with him — you should talk to him about it, too.”

He waits — heart pounding in his chest, and Jeno’s face twists, before he shrugs in defeat. “Yeah, you’re right,” Jeno mumbles, and Jaemin feels the last knot in his chest loosen. “I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”

“Good,” Jaemin says. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Jaemin blinks awake sleepily, scrunching his nose. Rolling over in bed, he grasps at the covers blindly, finally finding his phone and turning his alarm off.

What a crazy dream, he thinks to himself, sighing and stretching out on his bed. At least it’s over now.

His phone dings, and Jaemin unlocks it, swiping up without checking the message preview.

I’ll be there soon! ^^

“No,” Jaemin says, jerking his head over to look at his closet door.

Cap. Gown. Jacket. Tie.

“No,” he repeats, opening his calendar. “No, no, no.”

Graduation!!, the event says, blinking at him in a mocking green color.

But he did everything right, he thinks, frustration building. He’d even convinced Jeno to talk to Renjun. They hadn’t even broken up.

There’s only one thing to do in this situation, Jaemin thinks.

He puts his head in his pillow and yells.

Okay, Jaemin thinks, calmer now that his pillow bears the brunt of his frustration. He looks critically at himself in the mirror, running over what he knows in his head. Jeno and Renjun had been arguing for a while. About their trip?

No, he thinks, remember Jeno and his conversation from yesterday. It was deeper than that. Yesterday must have not been enough to fix — whatever this is. Was. But it was progress, he thinks grimly. He just has to try harder.

His phone dings again.

He ignores it. He knows what it says.

This time, he thinks. This time for sure.

“Jaemin!”

This time, Jaemin lets Donghyuck surprise him, pretending to stagger a little under his weight. Donghyuck laughs behind him, loud and happy, before releasing him, and Jaemin turns his around, hands on his hips.

“And who,” he says, “do you think you are?”

Donghyuck blows him a kiss. “Your favorite ex,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Obviously.”

“More like my only ex,” Jaemin mumbles, eyes widening as Donghyuck advances threateningly towards him. “Okay, okay, fine! I guess that makes you the favorite by default.”

“Of course it does,” Donghyuck sniffs. “Now come back here. I want a picture with you.”

The rest, Jaemin thinks, plays out like clockwork. Donghyuck leans in to kiss his cheek, and he blocks it. Jeno comes, and they leave. They park, and he asks him if they can stick together. Jeno agrees, and dinner starts. He toasts with his glass of water again, says sorry, I’m driving, again.

“Wait,” Jaemin says, pushing Jeno’s plate away from him. “Don’t eat that. It’s not good.”

“Really?” Jeno looks at it curiously. “What is it, anyway?”

“No idea,” Jaemin says, under his breath. “Just trust me.”

Jeno blinks at it owlishly, before shrugging and dropping it. “Okay,” he says, and that’s that.

Jaemin gives himself the mental equivalent of a high-five. Jaemin: 1. Cosmic superpowers: 0.

At approximately 19:41, another round of toasts starts. Jaemin notes the time down silently, before turning to Jeno.

“I think I’m gonna go find my parents,” he yells, above the exuberant cheers coming from everyone else. “Might be a while until I come back.”

“You’re good,” Jeno yells back. “I’ll go find mine too.”

Jaemin throws him a thumbs up, exiting the room and then taking an immediate right, striding towards the entrance. 

Operation: Find Jisung’s Coworker, he thinks, is a go.

Forty-four excruciating minutes later, the bus slows near his stop.

“Got somewhere to be?” The bus driver asks amusedly, as Jaemin inches his way up to the front. 

Jaemin smiles embarrassedly. “Something like that.”

They come to a halt, and the bus driver pushes the button to open the doors.

“Thank you,” Jaemin calls, hopping out of the bus quickly and sprinting in the direction of the pizza parlor.

At 20:31, Jaemin pushes past the doors of the restaurant, heading straight for the counter. It’s a different kid this time, he notes. Chenle.

“Hey,” Chenle says, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the wall. “What do you want to order?”

Oh, right. Order.

“Uh,” Jaemin says awkwardly. “Do you have any recommendations?”

Chenle hums. “I’ve had some people swear by the Hawaiian pizza, if that’s your kind of thing,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s not my favorite, but that’s just because I feel like pineapples don’t belong on pizza, you know? But to each their own.”

“Right,” Jaemin says. “Hawaiian sounds fine.”

“One slice? To go?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin says. Chenle raises his eyebrows, so he hurries to add — “to both.”

“One Hawaiian,” Chenle yells to the back, and there’s a responding grunt of acknowledgement.

“Alright, shouldn’t take more than five minutes to heat up,” Chenle says. He looks Jaemin up and down. “Hey, did you graduate today?”

“Oh,” Jaemin says. “Yeah, actually. I did.”

“On the house then,” Chenle says casually, waving his hand. “Congrats.”

Jaemin’s mouth parts in surprise. “I — thank you.”

“No problem,” Chenle says, smiling. “Gotta pay it forward, you know?”

He leans forward on the counter. “Hey, you’re a senior right? Do you know someone named Renjun?”

Chenle is an enigma, Jaemin decides. He didn’t even have to ask.

“I...do, actually,” Jaemin says, tilting his head. “Why?”

“He comes here all the time,” Chenle says, in lieu of a proper answer. “Since you’re both seniors, I thought I’d ask.” He hums thoughtfully. “Hold on.”

He disappears behind the counter, only to reappear with a binder.

Chenle thrusts the binder at him. “Here.”

“What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Chenle says, shrugging. “Some kind of itinerary. He left it behind the last time he was here like a week ago, and it’s just been sitting in the office. I was gonna wait until they came back like they do every month, but then I remembered that you guys are all graduating, so...”

He trails off, hands out in front him. “Anyway. I tried asking around but I don’t know a ton of seniors. If you know him, can you pass it along?”

Jaemin takes the binder carefully. Itinerary: Important!!, a sticky note in the front cover reads in Renjun’s small, neat handwriting. Do not lose.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “Hey, do you remember the last time he was here?”

“Do I ever,” Chenle snorts. “It was so awkward.”

“To go, one Hawaiian pizza!”

“One sec,” Chenle says, sliding over to the window and picking up the box. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Jaemin says. “So…”

“Oh right, last time,” Chenle says. “Yeah, it was pretty awkward. Whoever he was with was not having it, because they started arguing over plane seats, I think? Maybe flight reservations in general. I’m not sure. I think one of them — his boyfriend? Yeah, his boyfriend — said that they had two seats somewhere, and Renjun didn’t like that for some reason.”

So it was about their trip, Jaemin thinks.

“Then they stopped talking to each other,” Chenle continues. “And my shift ended, so I got the hell out of there.”

“I see,” Jaemin murmurs, balancing the binder on top of the box. “Well, thanks for the pizza.”

“No problem,” Chenle says, giving him a little salute. “Congrats on graduating. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Back in his apartment, Jaemin settles on his bed, spreading the binder out in front of him.

Senior trip, Renjun had written. Then there were the flight schedules — various airports, airlines, and flight numbers, penciled in underneath different dates.

After the flights came the hotel reservations. On the side, in Renjun’s handwriting: 2 beds? 1 bed??

Then — pages and pages of landmarks and tourist attractions — maps with the distance circled and labelled, cost of entrance and notes on whether tickets were needed or not, opening and closing times.

It’s all so neat, Jaemin marvels, taking in whatever color-coded system Renjun had used. Blue for museums and cathedrals, he notes absentmindedly, green for cycling, hiking, and — oh, Jaemin thinks. Of course.

Green was Jeno, and blue was Renjun.

Flipping the page, he comes across a picture of a field of flowers. Wow, he thinks. The pictures there would be gorgeous.

The title is highlighted in pink, though, and Jaemin frowns. Pink for both of them, maybe?

There’s a few more pink ones. He sees a bunch of cafes, the most exciting of which being a corgi cafe — dogs!, Renjun had written, helpfully, by its side — that has Jaemin cooing at the pictures. What good boys, he thinks, unable to stop his mouth from curving into a smile.

Since when were Renjun and Jeno dog people, though, Jaemin wonders, wrinkling his nose.

He forgets about it soon enough, flipping through the rest of the binder. It’s clear that Renjun had spent a lot of time putting it together, and he feels almost guilty for looking through it when he finally closes it, like he’s invading their privacy.

He’s also no closer to figuring out why Jeno and Renjun keep arguing, he thinks hopelessly, sprawling backwards across his bed.

Why the hell wouldn’t Jeno like any of this?

He groans into his sheets, pulling his laptop over and navigating back to the last horror movie he hadn’t finished watching.

I need a break, he thinks, reaching out to turn off the lights, before he presses play.

“...you’re not even going to deny it?”

“Are you?”

Jaemin startles awake as someone screams, jerking upright into a half-standing position.

He’d fallen asleep, he realizes, relaxing as he realizes the sounds are coming from his earbuds. Reaching out to press the spacebar, he pauses his movie. The credits are about to roll anyway, he thinks wryly. So much for finishing the movie.

Yanking his earbuds out, he slides them — along with his computer — back on his table.

He stiffens, then, when he realizes that there’s still someone speaking.

“...we’ve been dating for almost two years, asshole.”

“We should take a break.”

Two voices overlap, and Jaemin freezes. He pulls out his phone hurriedly, checking the time.

23:36.

It’s silent. Then — the sound of a door swinging shut.

Fuck.

Jaemin releases a breath, standing up and opening his door slowly. He pauses before stepping into the hallway, the night almost eerie in its stillness.

When he steps into the living room, Renjun’s head jerks in his direction.

“Jaemin,” he stutters, eyes round and scared. “You...you’re home? How much of that did you hear?”

“I…”

I’m sorry? I have your binder? I heard what happened?

“I was asleep,” Jaemin says eventually. “I came home early. I, um...fell asleep watching a movie, so I only woke up about two minutes ago.”

He coughs to clear his throat. “Do you want some water?”

“Here,” Jaemin says, sliding the mug over to Renjun. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

Renjun takes it.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “So you really didn’t...hear anything?”

Jaemin bites his lip. “I heard Jeno say at the end that, uh. You should…”

He gestures vaguely to Renjun, and Renjun’s shoulders slump.

“That we should take a break,” he says hoarsely, taking a sip of the water.

“Yeah.” Jaemin looks at Renjun carefully. “I didn’t hear anything else though. Is everything…are you okay?”

Renjun’s lips tremble.

Jaemin sighs, taking both of their cups.

“Come on,” he says gently, steering Renjun towards the couch. “Let’s sit down.”

When they get there, he sets the mugs down on the table, before sitting down next to Renjun.

“Come here,” he says, and Renjun lets out a choked sob, burying his head in Jaemin’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun hiccups, rubbing at his eyes valiantly. “I didn’t — want you to have to hear any of that.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jaemin says, heart twisting painfully, and when Renjun looks back up at him, genuinely apologetic, he finds it difficult to breathe properly.

“Don’t cry,” he says weakly, feeling his own eyes start to water too. “Or I’ll start crying too.”

Renjun sniffs, pressing his lips together. “Okay,” he whispers, blinking rapidly. “I’ll try.”

“You really...didn’t hear what we said before?” Renjun asks.

Jaemin shakes his head. “All I know is that there was something about your trip.”

“Oh my god, the trip,” Renjun says, letting out a shaky exhale and covering his face. “I don’t even know if that’s still on.”

Jaemin blinks. The trip.

“Wait,” he says, almost tripping as he stands. “Wait, Renjun, I’ll be right back, I have something for you —”

He jogs to his room, grabbing the binder and hurrying back.

“This is for you,” he says in a rush, holding it out.

Renjun stiffens. “Where did you get that?”

“From the pizza parlor down the street,” Jaemin says, hand still outstretched awkwardly. “Um, I was there earlier tonight. One of the workers there told me to give it back to you.”

“Right,” Renjun says, nodding jerkily. “Thank you.” He takes it from Jaemin, hands shaking. “Did you read it?”

“I flipped through,” Jaemin says hesitantly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. I just wanted to make sure it was yours.”

“God,” Renjun says, looking up at Jaemin with tears in his eyes. “No, don’t be sorry.”

He flips it open, fingers tracing along the cover page. When he gets to the pages with the flight details, his face crumples, and he closes the binder.

“This is such a mess,” Renjun whispers, burying his face in his hands. His voice is muffled when he asks, “so you know?”

“Know?” Jaemin repeats. He swallows nervously. “Know what?”

Renjun thrusts the binder out without looking, and he rocks forward instinctively, catching it before it can hit the floor.

Renjun sighs very, very quietly. “That I wanted you to come with us.”

And that  — that sends Jaemin’s heart into overdrive.

His heart thumps painfully in his chest.

“But,” he says, blinking rapidly. “This was supposed to be for your anniversary.”

“I know,” Renjun says miserably. “That’s what Jeno said too. We’ve been arguing for months.”

“Over me,” Jaemin says flatly.

Renjun gives an aborted shrug. “I wanted you there,” he says, voice tiny.

“You —”

Jaemin shakes his head. “Why —”

He gives up trying to make sense of his thoughts. “Me,” he says instead, voice cracking.

“Yeah, it’s color-coded and everything,” Renjun says from behind his hands. “You’re pink.”

“I’m pink?”

“Good photography spots? Cafes? Dog cafes?” Renjun peeks out at him. “Who else would that be for? Neither of us are dog people.”

“Me,” Jaemin repeats dumbly. Distantly, he can hear blood rushing through his ears.

“Renjun,” he says, voice trembling. “Why?”

Renjun looks at him  — properly this time, and his eyes are wet.

“Are you really going to make me say it?” He whispers, mouth twisting into a painful smile. He closes his eyes, tears shimmering on his eyelashes, and time slows to a crawl.

“Jaemin,” Renjun says, pained, like the words physically hurt him to say.

“I like you.”

He inhales shakily. “I’ve liked you since we met in freshman year.”

“You like me,” Jaemin repeats, feeling faint. “You. Like me.”

Renjun’s eyes open. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“You’re attractive. Intelligent. Genuinely kind and selfless.” He laughs self-deprecatingly. “Freshman me didn’t stand a chance.”

“But Jeno,” Jaemin says weakly.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Renjun says, sighing. “I love Jeno. I really do. And I’ve tried so hard to — not feel this way. But...”

He looks at Jaemin, incomparably sad and beautiful.

“You should know better than anyone else,” he whispers, “that you never really get over your first love.”

Jaemin trembles with the truth of it all. Renjun’s eyes shine in the dark, under the moonlight, and he steps closer, a moth drawn to a flame.

“I love you,” Renjun says, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

Jaemin watches the way his mouth moves, entranced. “The same way you love Jeno. And the same way he loves me.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

It’s not a question. “Yes,” Jaemin says anyway, and when he pushes Renjun back on the couch, straddling him easily and swallowing the rest of his words, it tastes like an apology.

Renjun’s hand holds onto his — on the couch in the living room, and later, on the bed in his bedroom too. Nothing is permanent, Jaemin remembers, so he doesn’t hold back, bruises blossoming prettily across Renjun’s skin.

He likes it most when they kiss, so Jaemin kisses him over and over again, whispers, I think I could love you. And when Renjun cries, tears sliding down his cheeks, Jaemin kisses those away too.

His bed is empty the next morning anyway.

BEEP. BE—

Jaemin shuts the alarm off and cries.

Jaemin isn’t a good person.

He can’t be, he thinks, because he spends the next few days repeating the exact same actions over and over again — reciting the exact same lines — just so he can relive the last few hours of the day, when Renjun tells him he loves him.

Sometimes he leaves dinner early to get the itinerary. Other times, he drinks, letting everyone get their toasts in before he staggers outside to catch the bus. Either way, his nights end the same way, Renjun’s hand in his and the bitter taste of guilt on his tongue.

Some days he can’t even bring himself to look at Jeno in the mornings. On those days, he sits at the bus stop outside of the restaurant, staring forlornly at the moon. He’s stealing time that doesn’t belong to him, he thinks. 

Sometimes he falls asleep at the bus stop. Or he takes the bus past his stop, getting off randomly and wandering the streets. Sometimes, he even goes to the pizza parlor and gets the binder, tracing his fingers against the words highlighted in pink and sitting there until Jisung very nicely kicks him out.

No matter where he goes — no matter what he does — he always wakes up alone in his bed.

What am I doing? He thinks one night, waking with a jolt. The bus hits another bump, and he sighs, settling back down in his seat.

He’s grown quite fond of the bus driver, he thinks. Ed is lovely, he learns, and has a twelve-year-old daughter that he raises alone and absolutely adores. He's working toward a vacation this summer, Ed tells him, since she's graduating lower school this year, but he doesn't know if he'll be able to take her yet.

Her name is Jennifer, Ed tells him on some of his late nights, tapping two well-worn photographs taped to the side of the bus.

The first photograph is a family of three: Ed, his wife, and his daughter. Jennifer, Jaemin supposes, though all babies tend to look awfully similar when you’re a little drunk. Jennifer’s mother is classically beautiful, the kind that would turn heads on the street.

“I never thought I had a chance,” Ed would say to Jaemin. “I reckon I loved her since she moved into my neighborhood when she was seven. She always had someone hanging off her arm — a conveyer belt of lovers.”

Drunk Jaemin is unimaginably engrossed in Ed and Jennifer’s story. “Then what happened?”

“I walked up to her the day of graduation and declared that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met in my twenty-two years of life.” Ed chuckles to himself. “And she smiled and said, ‘then what took you so long?’”

The second photograph has Jennifer a bit older, eight and holding a bunch of flowers. It’s still their family of three — Ed and Jennifer, standing solemnly in a cemetery.

“Do you regret it?” Jaemin asks him, sometimes. On bad days.

Ed always says the same thing.

“Never.” Ed shakes his head. “We had six beautiful years together.” He points to the photographs. “And she gave me the greatest gift of my life, Jennnifer.”

“The only thing I regret,” he says, smiling sadly, “is not asking her sooner.”

When Jaemin gets off at the last stop, Ed gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“Take my advice on this one,” he says sympathetically. “Kid, whoever it is, tell them. Life’s too short to worry about tomorrow.”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Jaemin sighs and reaches out, turning off his alarm.

He stares at himself while he brushes his teeth mindlessly, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth. His gaze lingers on their storage drawer, and he tugs it open slightly.

There it is, he thinks, pushing aside a few towels and wipes. The bag from Jeno’s dentist visit.

It feels like forever ago that he was standing here, he thinks, rooting through the drawer to find an extra toothbrush. He can hardly remember what yesterday — the day before graduation, not one of the time loops — feels like, and if he thinks hard enough, he can recall the dregs of a vague dinner plan and a half-finished movie.

He snorts. He has the entire movie practically memorized at this point.

He shuts the drawer, leaning over to flick the lights off. No use dwelling on the past.

“Nervous?”

Jaemin smiles even before he turns around.

There Renjun is, head poked into his room. He scoots in a little when Jaemin sees him, leaning on the doorframe.

“Just a little,” Jaemin says. He stands, making his way to the door. “Are you nervous?”

Renjun bounces a little on his toes. “Actually, yeah,” Renjun says, smiling shyly, and Jaemin looks at him and just feels — lucky.

“Isn’t everyone at least a little nervous?” Jaemin asks, lips quirked upwards. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Renjun says, humming happily as they make their way to the living room “The hard part’s over, anyway.”

“Four years,” Jaemin recites back to him, and watches Renjun’s face bloom in a soft sort of surprise. “Let everyone celebrate you, okay?”

Renjun pauses, lips parted. “How did you know that’s what I was going to say?”

“Mental jinx?” Jaemin offers.

Renjun hums. “Weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

Renjun looks at him, tilting his head. When their eyes meet, his lips curl upwards, smile small and genuine. “Good weird.”

“Good,” Jaemin says. “Because it’s our day.”

He smiles back at Renjun. “Let’s go graduate.”

“Took you long enough,” Jeno says to them both, putting his phone down as they reach the doorway. “Got cold feet already?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. He knows exactly what to say — he's had days to think about a response, after all. “I will if you don’t let me put these shoes on in peace.”

Jeno's surprised laugh is a engrained into his memory at this point. The quirked eyebrow, the soft exhale, the smile — Jaemin watches it all happen, one after the other, like a well-rehearsed play. There you are, he thinks. Smile as beautiful as ever.

The warmth that he gets from it, too, he thinks, will never grow old.

Bending down and tying his laces expertly, he listens for the whispers.

I told you he’d look good.

Jaemin always looks good.

Mm. Imagine how good he’d look in the summer. You want to know…

Jaemin straightens.

“...don’t you?” Renjun asks.

“Yeah, don’t you?” Jaemin repeats, relishing in the way Jeno’s cheeks redden.

“Just kidding,” he says easily, smiling slyly at Jeno. “I have no idea what you guys were talking about.”

He steps ahead, opening the door. “Ready to go?”

“Jaemin!”

Jaemin doesn’t even pretend to look for Donghyuck, turning in his direction and waving.

“Congrats on magna,” Donghyuck says, slowing as he gets closer and taking his phone out. “Now take a photo with me.”

Jaemin lets him take all thirteen photos without complaining, suffering through the obnoxious smacks against his cheeks. Afterwards, he watches Donghyuck scroll through the photos critically, tongue poked out against his cheek as he deletes the ones he doesn’t like.

“You know,” Jaemin says conversationally, watching Donghyuck text the photos to Mark, “you could always just tell him.”

“Me?” Donghyuck’s eyes widen. “Tell him? Ha. That’s funny.”

Jaemin cocks his head, watching the replies come in. One ding. Then two. Three.

“I’m serious,” he says, and Donghyuck’s smile disappears. “Does that sound like someone who isn’t whipped to you?”

Donghyuck wrinkles his forehead. “I’ll think about it,” he says, but Jaemin knows he’s gotten to him by the way he pulls his phone back out. “Do you really think it’ll be that easy?”

“It’s the hardest thing in the world,” Jaemin says seriously. “But I really do.”

“But how do you know?”

“I guess you don’t,” Jaemin says, shrugging. “Just a feeling.”

Donghyuck looks at him for a long time, and for a second, Jaemin almost thinks that they’re going to have a moment.

“You definitely weren’t this wise when we dated,” Donghyuck finally says. “I’m just going to chalk it up to my wonderful and delayed influence.”

Jaemin blinks, surprised. Never mind about the moment, he thinks, lips quirking up in a smile. Donghyuck always manages to catch him off guard in the best of ways. 

“Whatever you say,” he replies, eyes dancing with mirth. He eyes Donghyuck’s phone meaningfully. “Mark’s calling, by the way.”

“Oh, fuck,” Donghyuck says, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’m definitely not ready.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m gonna do it. No time like the present, right?”

“Go, Donghyuck!” Jaemin cheers, as he slides across the screen to connect the call. “I believe in you!”

Donghyuck flips him off, and Jaemin laughs, loud and happy. Good luck, he mouths, for real this time, and Donghyuck shoots him a thumbs up and only a slightly wobbly grin before turning around.

Jeno finds him a bit after, side-eyeing Donghyuck when he sees him.

“Haven't seen him in a while,” he says mildly, and his hands reach out to tug Jaemin closer. “How is he?”

They watch Donghyuck — Jaemin with no small amount of affection, Jeno less so. He's holding the phone carefully with both hands, foot tapping nervously on the ground, and after a few seconds, Jaemin turns away.

“He'll be fine,” he says eventually, and finds that he really, truly believes it.

The drive downtown, by now, is a routine path, all of the directions floating inside of Jaemin's head right before Jeno takes them. Stop sign. Red light. Turn in a quarter mile.

Eleven green lights and four red lights later, Jaemin spots the restaurant on their left, and two minutes later, they turn into the parking lot. Ninth row, Jaemin thinks, spot 13 — and sure enough, Jeno navigates their car smoothly into parking spot 913.

Jeno turns to Jaemin right after they park. “We really graduated, didn’t we?” He asks, leaning back in his seat. “Crazy how things change so fast.”

He stares at the dark dashboard of his car, exhaling slowly. “I just can’t believe the rest of our lives are starting. Like, where do we go now? What do we do?”

Jaemin looks at the side of Jeno's face as he speaks, taking in everything about him. His eyes, his hair, his cheeks — Jaemin lets himself look, for once, feeling warmth flow from his fingertips to his toes.

He slides their hands together, knocking Jeno's shoulder gently with his own. “Silly,” he says. “The rest of our lives have been happening.”

He scrunches his eyebrows, trying to think of what he'd said, that very first day.

When tomorrow comes, he remembers finally, and he smiles wryly to himself. What a twisted prophecy that's become.

“It’s like that book with Alice and the Queen,” he says instead, when Jeno raises his eyebrows at his sudden silence, turning to look at him. “Through the Looking Glass? You know that quote with the jam?”

Jeno laughs softly. “Is this your way of telling me you’re hungry?”

Jaemin smacks his arm. Lightly. “No,” he says, “it’s an actual quote.”

“Jam tomorrow?”

Jaemin claps. “Yes. Jam tomorrow, and jam yesterday, but never jam today. And then Alice says it has to be jam today someday. And the Queen says no, because today isn’t like every other day.”

“Okay,” he says, tilting his head. “Maybe the message is a little backwards. But still. It’s never going to be tomorrow, right?”

He looks back at Jeno. “My point is...you don’t have to worry about the rest of your life. You don’t even have to worry about tomorrow. Just think of the rest of your life as an infinite series of todays.”

Jeno squeezes his hand.

“Today we brave both of our extended families?” He offers.

“Exactly,” Jaemin says, and Jeno’s responding smile is dazzling. “See? You already know what to do.”

Jeno laughs quietly. “Makes sense,” he says, letting go of Jaemin's hands to grab his keys. “After you, then?”

Jaemin does everything he needs to — greets everyone he needs to — and at exactly 19:39, he slips away.

He has a schedule now, he thinks amusedly to himself. Five minutes to the bus stop — three if he has to sprint, and a few dozen seconds before the bus rounds the corner, majestic in all her blue glory.

As always, he's the only one there. It's not that bad, he thinks, a sort of nostalgia welling up inside of him when he remembers the nights he'd spent on the bus. The seats weren't even that uncomfortable.

Ow, he thinks, as the bus suddenly rolls over a speedbump and he bumps into the seat in front of him. Okay, never mind.

Ed doesn’t talk to him this time either, except to say —

“Got somewhere to be?”

Jaemin eyes the photographs, smiling softly. “Someone to see,” he says, fingers twisting nervously around the metal pole as he sees his stop roll close. He looks back down, a fond feeling spreading throughout his chest. “I’m going to tell them something important today.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Ed says, raising an eyebrow and opening the bus doors. “Best of luck, kid.”

Jaemin pauses on the last step down, looking back at him. “Thanks,” he says.

Hesitating, he adds — “for everything.”

“We’re all doing our best,” Ed says cheerily. “No problem, pal. Go get ‘em!”

Chenle gives him the binder easily, and Jaemin heads home with it, along with what will hopefully be the last damn slice of Hawaiian pizza he ever has to eat. 

I wonder if my credit card bill would reset itself too, he thinks amusedly. Guess I can figure that one out tomorrow.

He eyes the clock. 21:05. Exactly two hours before Jeno arrives. Two hours and fifteen minutes before Renjun arrives.

The smell of his Hawaiian pizza taunts him, and he opens the box with a sigh, chewing slowly on the pineapple chunks. He tosses the box when he finishes, slumping over on the couch. Time to get comfortable, he thinks, resigning himself to another two hours of waiting.

“Jaemin?”

Jeno stands in the doorway, halfway through taking his second shoe off. “What are you doing here?”

Jaemin yawns, blinking out of his nap. “C’mere,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and Jeno sighs, dropping his keys and padding over in his socks.

“I left early,” Jaemin says, patting at the spot next to him on the couch. When Jeno sits down, draping one arm casually over Jaemin, he scoots over, kicking the blanket across Jeno’s lap.

“I have to tell you something,” Jaemin says, leaning against Jeno’s shoulder.

Jeno hums. “What is it?”

Jaemin bites at his lip.

“You have to promise you won’t get mad.”

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Jaemin…”

“Nope,” Jaemin says, shaking his head. “You have to promise.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Just when Jaemin is thinking about asking again, Jeno sighs.

“Alright,” he says. “I promise.”

Jaemin’s heart quickens in his chest. Swallowing nervously, he tugs at the blanket, lifting out the binder. “I found this earlier.”

It’s silent.

Jaemin sneaks a look up at Jeno’s expression. It’s stony, and he shivers, shrinking in on himself.

“You promised,” he whispers.

“Did you look at it?”

Jaemin nods imperceptibly.

Jeno sighs, tension flowing out of his body like spilled water. “So you know.”

Another nod.

“Jaemin,” Jeno says, covering his face with his hands. “It’s...more complicated than you think.”

“Try me,” Jaemin says softly.

“Remember when Renjun and I had just started dating,” Jeno says slowly, “and you got sick?”

Jaemin has to think to remember. “Junior fall? When Renjun stayed over?”

“Yes,” Jeno says. “That was the first time we argued. I said he didn’t have to stay over while you slept. He disagreed.”

“And you know you’re my best friend,” he says, “so it’s not like I wanted to leave you by yourself anyway. It was just for a quick dinner. Takeout, too. We would’ve been back in less than half an hour. ”

“But he wouldn’t budge,” Jeno sighs. “So we fought.”

“It would’ve been our three month anniversary,” Jeno says, looking at Jaemin. “And you know Renjun is the first person I really — really liked. So it felt weird, that he was choosing to spend more time with you than with me.”

Jeno looks at him, sad but fond. “At first I thought I was jealous,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “Then you started dating Donghyuck.”

“That’s when I realized it wasn’t jealousy,” Jeno says. “At least not the way I thought it was.”

Jaemin opens his mouth to protest, and Jeno shakes his head quickly. “No, wait, I know what you’re thinking — let me finish.”

“Donghyuck,” Jeno says, holding up a hand up, “is an objectively cool dude. He’s funny. Talented. Really smart. But I hated him, Jaemin. And the things Renjun said — started making sense.”

“He’d accuse me of doing the same thing, you know,” Jeno says, looking up at the ceiling. “Of putting you before our relationship. So I tried to draw those lines between you and him. Between friendship and…”

“Boyfriendship,” Jaemin fills in, and Jeno’s lips twitch upward. “Yeah. That, I guess.”

“But it didn’t really work.” Jeno purses his lips. “Because every time you were there, Renjun was there. And it felt like every time Renjun and I would do something, you’d be there too. Because we wanted you to be, obviously, but I was trying so hard to keep them apart that I ended up pushing Renjun aside too.”

He pauses, sighing again. “So then Renjun and I started arguing about how I wasn’t being nice enough to you. That’s more recent, I guess. The trip has been one of the biggest parts of it.”

Jeno cuts himself off. “Renjun...some parts of our arguments are his secrets to tell,” he says slowly. “But they got bad. At some point, it wasn’t even about the trip anymore. It was just about which side we were on.”

“So it’s not that I don’t want you to come,” Jeno says, looking at Jaemin pleadingly. “I was just jealous. And selfish. I’m sorry.”

“So you were jealous,” Jaemin says weakly.

“I was,” Jeno says, taking a deep breath. “But not of you.”

The words take a moment to sink in.

But not of you, he thinks. If not of him, then it must've been that...

“You were jealous of Renjun?” Jaemin asks disbelievingly. “...because of me?”

The words sound even more absurd out loud than they did in his hand, and Jaemin blinks rapidly, trying to process it all. 

"Yeah?" Jeno says, a bit unsteadily. “I was trying so hard to separate the two of you in my mind. And Renjun would just spend so much time with you. It wasn’t fair, how he got to do that —”

He presses his lips together, trembling.

“And I didn’t.”

Eight years of assumptions, Jaemin thinks unsteadily, unraveling with a single tug. And Jeno is still talking.

“I know you hate cliches,” Jeno says softly. “But you know how they say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone?”

Jaemin shakes his head, but Jeno reaches out, grabbing his hands. "Please, Jaemin. I know you know what comes next."

“...you knew,” Jaemin whispers. “You just...”

“Never thought I’d lose it,” Jeno finishes, closing his eyes. “They weren’t wrong. The way I hated Donghyuck. How hard it was to draw the line between you and Renjun. When I look back on everything, it all seems so clear.”

He inhales shakily, looking up at Jaemin. “For the last few weeks I’ve been thinking about how we’re graduating, and for the first time in my life, I can’t count on you always being there. Because you’re going to go on and live your life, and I’m going to live mine, and I’m so fucking scared that we’re only going to see each other twice a year, when we visit our families for the holidays. I don’t want that. I can’t let that happen.”

He voice wavers, and Jaemin’s heart clenches. “I’ve always known I wanted you with me for the rest of my life; I just didn’t know what that meant. And now I do, even though it’s too late.”

Tears sting at Jaemin’s eyes. “You…”

“Eight years,” Jeno says. “I know everything about you, just like you know everything about me. I know what it looks like when you’re in love. I see it when you look at other people. I see it when you look at...”

He cuts off, smiling bravely. “I guess it's just taken so long because the way we look at each other has never changed.”

“I love you,” Jeno whispers. “The same way you love me. I do, Jaemin. I really, really do.”

Jaemin whimpers painfully.

“But I took you for granted,” Jeno says, sounding so small that Jaemin’s chest aches. “And I hurt you. I’m sorry. I know how unfair this is —”

“Fuck fair,” Jaemin says shakily, cutting him off. “Why do people keep saying that to me?”

Jaemin buries his head in Jeno’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, voice catching on a sob. “I — fuck. You know I’ve loved you for years — I never thought — god.”

“Breathe,” Jeno says gently, but when Jaemin lifts his head to look at his face, his eyes are wet too — which, if anything, just makes Jaemin cry even harder. “You stole my line,” he says, wiping his eyes roughly. “Asshole. I was supposed to tell you I love you.”

Jeno laughs wetly. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Jaemin says unsteadily. “You really love me? Like, love love?”

“What are we, in high school?” Jeno snorts, but he smiles helplessly at Jaemin. “I really love you,” he repeats, and Jaemin has to bite his lip to stop himself from crying again. “Love love.”

Suddenly, in the midst of it all, there's a knock on the door, and Jaemin jerks his head up sharply.

Jeno's eyes dart towards the door.

“Renjun,” he says, almost apologetically. He clears his throat. “I’ll get the door?”

“Wait,” Jemin says, gripping his hands. “When you said, um. The way I looked at other people. You were talking about Renjun, right? This — this is an all three people kind of deal?”

Jeno hesitates before getting up, leaning in and kissing him softly. It's quick, just the brush of their lips together, but it scatters butterflies in Jaemin's stomach anyway, and he flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears.

“What was that for?"

Jeno looks at him from across the living room. “No reason.”

“Um,” Jaemin says, mind still a little bit of a mess. “Okay.”

“...and Renjun?” He adds weakly.

Jeno melts, looking at him fondly. “Why don't you ask him yourself?”

Then he opens the door.

After Renjun comes in, eyes widening when he sees the two of them — and what a sight they must make, Jaemin thinks — Jeno pulls on his arm and whispers something to him. Renjun frowns, whispering back, and there’s about a half minute of furious whispering back and forth.

Jaemin shifts, getting increasingly nervous as they start to get more and more animated, hands gesturing in the air.

“Guys,” he says eventually, and both of them stop to look at him. He falters. “Never mind,” he says, voice small. “Keep going. I can wait.”

Renjun's shoulders slump. “No,” he says, making his way to the couch, “we should talk.”

He sits a safe few feet away from Jaemin, and Jaemin frowns at the distance.

“So,” Jaemin says, fingers twisting in the blanket.

“So,” Renjun repeats, and Jeno lets out an impatient sigh of air. “The binder,” he supplies helpfully.

Jaemin's smile is strained. “Right,” he says. “I have your binder.”

Renjun nods jerkily. “You read it?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin says, watching the way Renjun's face morphs.

Worry. Resignation. A cautious sort of hope, warring against disbelief.

Oh, fuck it, Jaemin thinks, and tries his best to ignore the way the bottom of his stomach feels like its going to fall out. There's no reason for this to be so hard.

He reaches out a hand out tentatively. A silent request.

Renjun looks at him, and — oh, Jaemin thinks. Just like the first time, his eyes say it all.

You've always said it first.

Jaemin pushes aside his blanket, wriggling over to Renjun's side of the couch.

This time, let me say it back.

“Stop me,” Jaemin murmurs, “if I'm overstepping.”

Renjun shakes his head, the smallest of movements, and Jaemin inhales in preparation.

This, at least, is familiar territory.

“I think,” he starts, looking up at Renjun carefully, “that I've been falling in love with you for a while.”

“Will you —”

“Yes,” Renjun whispers, breaths hitching, and Jaemin's lips twitch.

“...let me love you,” he finishes weakly. “You didn't even let me finish.”

“Yes,” Renjun says again, louder this time, and he reaches out to take Jaemin's hands, gripping them tightly.

His hands are sweaty. “I love you too,” he says, voice shaky, and when his eyes meet Jaemin's, dark and glassy, Jaemin feels a familiar flame flicker awake in the bottom of his stomach.

He's never been able to resist Renjun's eyes, he thinks dazedly, and so he leans forward, closing the last few inches between them.

This time, Jaemin thinks, it tastes like hope.

When they break apart, Renjun is halfway in Jaemin’s lap, and Jaemin licks at his lips as Renjun turns to Jeno.

“You,” Renjun says hoarsely, “get over here.”

And when Jeno settles in the space behind Jaemin, leaning over to kiss Renjun — fuck, Jaemin thinks, as he watches the way Renjun nips playfully at Jeno’s lips. He’s never been so turned on in his life.

Then Jeno dips his head down to kiss Jaemin, and Jaemin’s brain shuts down. “Bed,” he croaks out the next time he has a chance to catch a breath, and Renjun laughs, pulling him up as Jeno attaches himself to Jaemin’s back.

There’s love, Jaemin thinks. So, so much love, and his heart feels full with the sheer dimension of possibility.

Then Renjun does something with his tongue — “holy fuck,” Jaemin gasps, and his mind whites out, the last of his coherency dissolving.

There isn't much thinking after that.

Later — much later, he lies in his bed, wide awake. To his right, Renjun is already asleep, mouth open adorably against the pillow. 

“Are you still awake?”

Jeno's voice is quiet against his shoulder, and Jaemin nods in reply.

“I don't want to fall asleep,” he admits, closing his eyes. It's easier to be vulnerable in the dark, under the safety of his covers. “I'm scared I'm going to wake up and lose it all.” He bites his tongue before he can say again.

The sheets rustle a bit as Jeno wriggles closer to Jaemin.

“Remember what you told me earlier today?” Jeno whispers. “About the jam?”

Jaemin hums.

“I've been thinking.” Jeno stifles a yawn. “What's so good about the jam, anyway? Isn't Alice in Wonderland? There's so much she can do. Who cares if it's never jam tomorrow?”

“I'm pretty sure Alice in Wonderland is another book,” Jaemin whispers back, but the idea makes him smile still. “But yeah, I guess you're right.”

“It's all about the company,” Jeno murmurs, voice barely audible. “I wouldn't mind spending infinitely many todays with you.”

Jaemin's heart pangs in his chest. “Me neither,” he says quietly, but when he turns around, Jeno is already asleep.

His curtains are still open. The moon isn't visible from where he is, but Jaemin looks outside the window anyway, at the night sky. The sun will rise again tomorrow, he thinks. No matter what, it will.

Even if I have infinitely more todays, he thinks, I’ll be okay if it’s like this.

Because I'm happy, he thinks, closing his eyes. And that's enough.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Consciousness comes in waves.

Jaemin fumbles around his sheets, wincing as his arm smacks into something else.

“Is that your alarm?” Jeno says sleepily, and Jaemin stills, suddenly very, very awake. “Where’s your phone?”

The alarm stops blaring.

“Never mind,” Jeno's voice says. “I found it.”

“What’re you thinking about?” Renjun asks sleepily, reaching out to pull him in closer. His fingers smooth over the wrinkles in Jaemin’s forehead, practiced and gentle. “It’s too early to be thinking so hard.”

“Nothing,” Jaemin says, blinking at Renjun. “Just — today is tomorrow.”

“That’s how days work, yes,” Renjun says, voice quiet and amused. 

“It happened,” Jaemin breathes, feeling something warm unfurl in his chest. “You’re here.”

Behind him, Jeno shifts, throwing a leg over his. “Exactly,” he grumbles, but he presses a kiss into Jaemin’s neck anyway, and Jaemin shivers at the newness of it all.

“Sleep,” Jeno says, a tone of finality in his voice. His breath is warm against Jaemin’s skin. “Yesterday was a long day.” It’s tacked on, like an afterthought.

“Oh,” Jaemin says, closing his eyes and smiling, “you have no idea.”

+

“So you're telling me,” Jaemin hears Renjun say slowly, “that the flight is full, and the tickets are nonrefundable?”

He waits, frown growing deeper, and after twenty seconds, he hangs up with a huff.

“So that's a no on refunds?” Jeno asks, looking up from his phone.

“That's a no,” Renjun grumbles. “Transferrable only my ass. Who are we going to transfer a whole trip's worth of tickets to?”

Jeno shrugs. “Beats me.”

Jaemin blinks slowly. Thinks of late-night bus rides and well-worn photographs.

“...I think I might have an idea."

Ever drifting down the stream —
Lingering in the golden gleam —
Life, what is it but a dream?

Lewis Caroll, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There (1871)