Golden Days | Markhyuck

12 | Reality

"Okay, that's it, I'm done. No more talking about him, no more mentioning him, he doesn't exist, I'm turning over a new leaf," Donghyuck would say at some point the morning.

The first time, Renjun responded, "You absolutely sure? You're not gonna try to set things straight? You know, you still have a chance."

"Nope. He's a bitch and I'm better off without him," Donghyuck had said, earning a glare from Renjun, halfway between judgmental and sympathetic.

"Good luck with that," was the only thing Renjun would say every time after that.

It would go well enough for a day; Donghyuck would focus on his schoolwork, make some progress on his projects, hang out with friends and try to make new ones around his major. He'd almost start feeling like a normal person again.

But by the end of that very same day, he would have seen Mark at least once, or unwillingly interacted with him in some sort of way, either online or in real life, and his resolution would be shattered like an egg dropped on the floor.

"Fuck my life," he would then whine in either his own or Renjun's pillow.

Rinse and repeat until every single person in his life was absolutely sick of his bullshit, including Donghyuck himself.

This time, Donghyuck's not staring up at the ceiling, nor has he shoved his face into the couch cushions to block out everything. He's staring at his computer, with about fifty tabs open, trying to write another stupid essay, hoping in vain for words to appear on his screen, but he's completely lacking in both inspiration and motivation. At times like these he's wondering how the hell did he agree to sign up for this.

He rubs his eyes, and, without looking, lets his fingers smash the keys for a bit to let out at least a tiny bit of the frustration. Then he sits back, stares at the string of random symbols for a minute, and deletes it.

So much for being productive.

"Renjun!" he calls out. No answer follows, so he looks over to where the other is sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed, head craned towards his own computer, face hard with concentration as he makes careful pencil strokes on his paper.

"Injunieeee!" Donghyuck drawls out just to be extra annoying. To his disappointment, Renjun only responds by lifting a finger, telling him to wait, or as someone who's known the guy for years knows, to shut the fuck up. Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

Renjun draws a line, erases it, then draws another one and erases again, his eyebrows knitting together closer every time, his expression turning into one of part focus, part dissatisfaction. It continues for a while, and by the time he finally sits back and studies what he's made, Donghyuck's ready to desert out of boredom.

"Alright, what do you want?" Renjun says, putting his notepad away.

Donghyuck looks around, looks at his computer that's been abandoned on the floor, looks at Renjun's face, where he'd expect to find annoyance, but he doesn't, and it almost catches him off-guard, as he never really expects Renjun to show any sort of concern for him at all, and he forgets what he wanted to ask in the first place.

"Uh... I don't know?" His pitch goes up as if he's asking a question.

"Well, isn't that great. Shouldn't you get back to work?"

"Don't feel like it. It's getting really late anyway, you know there are more fun things to do at midnight than writing essays, right?"

"That's university for you, deal with it."

Donghyuck sighs, sits back and stares at the wall opposite of him. If there was ever a time when this was fun, it's long gone. Now, he's just tired of it all, with no option left for him to consider, or, more likely, no option he's willing to consider, because he's still fighting against it and he knows it.