always ↬ leading me on || l.dh • h.rj • z.cl

·forty seven·

When Renjun arrived at the gates of Zhong Mansion, he was out of breath, panting and soaked to the bone; body bent with his hands on his knees as he tried to get a grip of himself, wondering if he had made it in time.

His hands rattled against the black metal that was keeping him from entering and he cursed, realising that it wasn't open for him like it had once been.

There was no grit or gravel on the ground, but it still hurt when he sunk down onto his knees, eyes squeezed shut as a sob left his lips, processing that there was no other way in — no other way to Chenle.

He was too late.

Still, he stayed there, though he knew he had no hope, he stayed. With the rain sliding down his face and back and the wind whipping at his skin, he stayed because he was tired of running — from his feelings and from his heart; from his love.

Renjun thought that he'd rather die here than leave.

He almost didn't hear the voice that called out to him over the sound of his own despair, but his head lifted up the slightest and he made out the figure of a man through his blurry vision.

"J-Jongin?"

"Injun," he answered, "you're not supposed to be here."

Renjun grit his teeth and sniffled, he knew, he knew that he wasn't supposed to be here, yet he still was. Groveling on the floor like he was a dying man in front of the person who'd restlessly looked over him and Chenle when they were young. Hearing his cold tone now, was like another stab to his already failing heart and his fingers curled, knuckles grazing harshly on the damp asphalt.

"P-please," he cried, "please let me see him, just this once."

His voice was cracking, refusing to come out as anything other than a plea weaved into a rasp. It was constricted against his throat, as if punishing him for even attempting to beg for a forgiveness he didn't deserve. His inhales were dry heaves of air and he didn't dare look into the onyx orbs that were staring him down.

Time truly stood still when the sound of metal swinging back cut through the air and seconds later, a hand was on his shoulder and another was pulling him up, up until he fell and stumbled over his numb feet and into arms that were willingly open for him.

A steady heartbeat in the eye of a coming storm.

He heard it loud and clear and he knew that he didn't have much time before the thunder would rumble and the sky would collapse, finding strength in the arms of a friend, he let himself lurch forward.

And it was only a whisper in the potent gale, but it was crisp and deep, "go quickly."

"Jongin hyung..." he smiled, sadly — in pain, "thank you." With that, he was off again, a silhouette fast approaching its final destination.

‣‣

Chenle was frozen when he saw Renjun.

He had stilled in an instant and his hands fell limp to his sides as the ravenette came towards him.

It was a dream.

It had to be a dream. It couldn't be real, Renjun couldn't be here right now, he couldn't be in front of him, couldn't be kissing him the way he was, as if it were his last and as if he were in love.

It wasn't true and yet his eyes fluttered shut and he indulged because this was only his fantasy and he had nothing to lose within the safety of his own mind.

There was a hand on his nape and one in his hair.

There was a heart in his chest and one in his hands.

There was Renjun.

Renjun, whose tears were like the salt that he'd pressed into his wounds and whose tongue was like the knife he used to create them. Renjun, who had wrecked him so wholly and reduced him into a shell of himself that only knew how to call his name.

There was Renjun, pulling apart from him and cupping his face, pressing their foreheads together and breathing.

Breathing as if he were real, as if he wasn't the illusion that Chenle's mind had conjured up in the midst of his heartache.

His head hurt because he wasn't going away, this Renjun wasn't going away like the one in his dreams always did, this Renjun was holding him in his arms and had a pulse and warmth that all the others didn't.

It couldn't have been.

There was no way he was the real one.

"Lele."

But he was.

"G-Gege?" he asked, disbelief washing out the volume he spoke in.

"I'm here Chenle," he whispered, "I'm finally here."

Chenle felt his insides shrivel up.

"Please don't go, don't leave me. I haven't been taught life without you, I- I don't know how to function when you're not around," Renjun begged, crying into the younger's chest while his arms gripped around his frame for dear life.

There was a force — a rope that was wrapped delicately around his neck, one that was pulling him further and further into Renjun. He wanted to tell him that he'd do whatever the other asked of him, that he'd fall into fire for him and come out alive if he so wished, that he'd give away everything he owned along with his life if that was what he wanted.

Chenle's desire to please Renjun was rooted in the deepest and darkest parts of himself and he only hoped that the older knew that.

Only hoped that he'd shown him enough.

Maybe then, what he was about to do wouldn't hurt him that much.

But Chenle underestimated the extent of his need — didn't realise that when he ran a hand through the other's pretty black locks and told him 'sorry', he'd snapped Renjun into two halves and then crushed him even further.

"N-No," the smaller boy sobbed, "no, Chenle, no, you can't, please- no. Don't do this to me, I'm begging you."

The blonde smiled solemnly, wrapping his arms around Renjun's shaking frame and gently rocking them both from side to side, pressing his head further against where his beating heart pounded away and letting his fingers run up and down his body, letting his lips touch his hair.

Memorising every inch of the boy he loved because he knew it would be a long time until he saw him again.

The tables hadn't turned on them, Renjun was just weak at a point where he was strong.

The tables will never turn on them, Chenle will always be madly in love with his childhood best friend.

"I'll be gone for a year, but I promise I'll come back to you. I've always come back to you."

The rain outside had dulled to a light drizzle, the dreary pitter patter of water against glass a dim background noise in the ears of a boy whose heart had just stopped.

To him, Chenle walking out of that door was him walking out of his life.

-fin-