Bad Blood [NoRenMin] ✔

42

When Jaemin comes downstairs the next morning, Xiaojun and Taeyong are working behind the counter. Yangyang is seated at the counter, seeming to be in a bicker with Xiaojun (it's about the fact that Xiaojun had told him to stay home and rest and yet here he was. Yangyang claims he can't just lay around and do nothing because it makes him feel useless) which ends moments after Jaemin slides into the seat beside Yangyang.

"You rest well?" Yangyang asks softly. He's smiling as though the little bicker between him and Xiaojun were nothing. Or as if it hadn't just happened.

"Best sleep I've had in awhile," Jaemin replies with a small smile. "And you? And you? Everything alright?"

Despite the look Xiaojun is giving him, Yangyang nods. "He's fussing over nothing." When he turns his head to look at Xiaojun, he's met with a kiss. Considering how little Jaemin has seen them being intimate, he finds the act cute and sweet.

"Break it up," Taeyong says, tugging Xiaojun back when he returns from serving one of the tables on the other side of the room. "You can do that sort of stuff when you're not at work," he tells Xiaojun pointedly, the latter flushing and looking away. Taeyong leans forward against the counter and turns his attention to Jaemin. "You did well."

He blinks. "Thank you," he murmurs. It's all he can think to say at that very moment.

Nodding, Taeyong shifts his stance, but his gaze doesn't falter. "So, Haechan is back I hear."

Jaemin doesn't ask how he heard; it's Taeyong who just has his ways. "Yeah," Jaemin replies and he's smiling before he realizes it. "Mark won't let him move around much so he's practically bedridden," Jaemin informs with a chuckle.

"At least he listens," Xiaojun mutters.

Yangyang rolls his eyes. "Would you drop it, love?" he asks, so softly that Jaemin almost misses the little pet name, It's clear that Xiaojun doesn't miss it with the way he flushes and turns away, fumbling with a glass so much so that Jaemin worries he'll drop it (though he's almost sure that he won't.)

"How is Kun?" Jaemin asks, turning back to Taeyong whose expression drops for a moment. He seems to catch himself and he's smiling again, but it's not as there as the previous one.

"He's trying. It's difficult, you know?"

Jaemin doesn't say it aloud, but oh he knows. He knows all too well. Losing Jeno the first time was horrible, but a second time was even worse. Remembering how he felt the first time he thought he lost Jeno, he could imagine how Kun was feeling.

"I feel terrible," he murmurs.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't. Kun understands," Taeyong replies. "He's a hunter and unfortunately, deaths come with the job."

Jaemin nods, understanding completely. While he knew it couldn't be avoided, he hoped he could possibly avoid as many future deaths as possible. When the cup of coffee is placed in front of him, he murmurs a soft thank you and takes a sip. He was trying to keep from checking his phone again. He needed to stop because considering he never heard from Renjun the day before, there was this little hope that he would hear from him today. No matter how many times he told himself he needed to stop, he just needed it. To hear from him; to make sure he was alive like he swore he would be (not verbally, but it was unspoken. Or rather, it was behind the words that had actually been spoken.)

The door opens and footsteps echo against the wooden floors. Jaemin didn't even know they were wooden floors; he never heard footsteps echo the way these did nor did he even look at the floors long enough to actually deduce that they were wooden.

"Hey." It's Winwin. Jaemin looks up in surprise. He starts to say something when Winwin hands over an envelope. "This is for you," he explains and only when Jaemin accepts it does he actually step back and take a seat beside Yangyang, leaving him staring at the envelope in all it's white glory with such a pretty, scrawly writing of his name; a handwriting Jaemin recognised from all those times they studied together.

He lifts his head. "Can I sit at one of the—"

Taeyong nods his head. "Go ahead."

Jaemin is already half out of his seat as he thanks him. He takes a seat at one of the empty tables in the far corner of the room. He doesn't open it immediately. It takes him a good few moments before his trembling hands manage to peel open the envelope as delicately as possible. He doesn't want to ruin it.

A letter; written on ruled paper. Informal and yet the handwriting is as elegant and regal as ever. His mouth twitches upward at the corners. He counts to three and unfolds the rest of it.

Dear Jaemin,

A bit odd to be saying dear, but rather appropriate given the format of the message, don't you think?

I've wanted to message you, I have. However, my phone is broken and it's taken forever to find the words to fill this paper, but I suppose there is no massive, big message I need to pass on. I just need to keep it simple.

I want to see you. I want to talk to you.

We left our conversation on a cliffhanger, so I suppose it is only appropriate to continue it as soon as possible.

You always went on about how I never really picked a date or anything, so here it is:

Tomorrow morning, nine a.m. (that should be long enough to get done).

I'll see you then.

Regards, Renjun.

Despite himself, he's smiling. Running his thumb along the words, he's smiling so wide that his cheeks are hurting, but despite the smile, he feels close to tears.

He doesn't know why. He runs his thumb along Renjun's name and he's smiling again. He wishes he wasn't; he should be mad. He should be upset and mad, but he isn't.

"Tomorrow," he murmurs.