The World Stopped Moving {MarkRen} | complete

dix-neuf

As soon as his mother hangs up, Renjun drops his phone on the bed and sprawls out on his back.

It took his mother four attempts to get hold of him; he'd stared at the device while it blared the same annoying tune, on and off, on and off, until he mustered the energy to answer. It hadn't gone well. Sleep deprivation addled his tongue when he tried to explain himself. He told her he was busy with coursework and had his phone on silent. She laughed, said he was too lazy to be busy with coursework, and Renjun could do nothing but silently agree as rage boiled in the pit of his stomach. He sank deeper into the rage while she ranted about annoying colleagues and about the construction being done on the neighbours' house.

When she finally asked about how he's getting on, all complaints died in Renjun's throat and he croaked out a 'fine', and that was that.

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Renjun shuts his eyes and breathes deep, in for four, out for eight. In for five, out for five. He tries every variation, but his lungs still burn and his eyes still sting. The off-white wallpaper mocks him when he rolls over, and the mattress creaks, a spring digging into his hip too sharply to ignore. But he ignores it anyway. The dimming evening light shrinks the room. The same four walls that have witnessed every breakdown since starting his degree show no more compassion than the first time, creeping closer and closer. Each time he opens his eyes, they're closer, and he's closer to insanity.

He's fine when he's with Mark. Mark rambles about his favourite books and plucks at his guitar with a wistful expression, the melodies chasing their fears away.

He's fine when he's with Chenle. Chenle hums softly and the scratch of his pen keeps Renjun's thoughts at bay while they study in the kitchen together.

He's fine when he's not alone.

But when Renjun is alone, he stares at his to-do list for hours on end. He lays on his bed for hours on end, yet never seems to sleep for a single minute. If he drifts, he's not sure if he actually sleeps, or if he just falls too deep into his mind to register the passing of time.

It's the buzzing of his phone that pulls him back to the surface now. A rock in his throat, he counts the vibrations. Unlike with his mother, though, it persists for more than twenty seconds. It keeps going, and Renjun sits up. It must be someone else.

"Mark?" Renjun presses his phone to his ear and rubs his eyed. Mark usually texts, just as scared by the idea of a phone call as Renjun so often is. Texting is their thing. "Is everything okay?"

There's commotion on the other end of the line. The voices are muffled, so Renjun can't work out if Mark is even there at all, but then comes the rush of footsteps, the slam of a door, and finally a heaving breath that must be his. "Renjun?"

"Yes? Hey," Renjun says, trying to keep his voice steady even as his heart pumps blood that's thick with fear.

"Oh my God. Hi. Yes. Hello." Mark's voice sounds deeper over the phone, but still as rushed and awkward and disjointed as usual so there's no time to dwell on how he finds it more attractive than he'd like to admit. "I'm at the café. Like, at work? The one where I work?"

"I didn't know you were working tonight," Renjun replies. He glances at the clock. It's almost seven.

"Neither did I until this morning. Jaehyun texted and woke me up." Mark laughs shortly.

"Okay," Renjun continues. There's an awkward pause and he now supposes the noise must just be the bustle of the café. "Is it going well? Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Mark trails off just enough for Renjun to sense the uncertainty. Renjun can picture the slight frown of the elder's brow, and the way he's probably running his tongue over his lips in quiet consideration. "But Jaemin isn't."