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jishyucks · 1 year

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Walls, Brawls, & Sudden Rainfalls ‣ hrj

‣ pairing: renjun x reader

‣ genre: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, fluff!, slow burn (!), college au

‣ wc: 23.6k (gawdamn)

‣ summary: Your first impression of Huang Renjun wasn’t the greatest. In fact, the first two encounters you did have with him were enough for you to conclude that he was just some cold-blooded boy who genuinely didn’t care about anyone else but himself. That was, of course, before the (damn) universe brings you both together to work on the local daycare’s mural.

↳ Alternatively where first impressions blind the fact that you two actually fit quite well together.

‣ warnings?: Brief mention of underage drinking, Renjun and reader argue really childishly lots, when I meant slow burn, I really did mean slow burn, very very brief mention of doing the dirty bc reader chooses to be dirty-minded (but they don't actually do it nonono)

‣ an: this is the longest fic I've posted ever (so far), so it feels like I’ve incubated it in the womb, went into labour, gave birth, raised it, and now I'm setting it shi free and into the world lmaooo,,, anyways thank you so much to @hoonieji (my bestie) for reading over this and reassuring me that it was going great,, I hope you all enjoy this!!! <333

‣ taglist!: @hoonieji @nanaflwers @dandelionxgal @flowerpotrenjun @renjun-fairy @she-is-dreaming @mosviqu @hibernatinghamster @glamourizz — can't tag @markleeiloveyou @lovehowdream

ONE.

With the hundreds, hell even thousands, of people in university, there will always be a handful of rude, miserable people that you were deemed to run into sooner or later.

Sure, not all of them mean to be rude. Often, there would be the occasional bump on the shoulder in the crowded corridors… Or there would be those newly woken up individuals who would give dirty looks, obviously not giving a single fuck. You’re a nice person. You understand those people since everyone did had bad days. But there was one man—cough—boy that genuinely had an attitude that needed to be fixed.

You didn’t know his name, nor did you want to know his name, but you could easily pick him out of a crowd because of the smug look he always repped. Funnily enough, it was the very look you wanted to very badly slap off of his face.

The only reason you knew of him was that he seemed to have a desire to be a menace to those who got in his way and unfortunately, you constantly ended up being on the receiving end of these situations.

There was one morning you had been running late to class—no—you were sprinting to the auditorium in hopes of only missing the run-through of the previous class. Your field of vision chose to settle only on the doors of your class, which at the time was a huge mistake. The focal point blocked out everything else, causing you to run into the before mentioned boy in a rough manner.

“What the fuck!?” You both were on the ground, briefly stunned at the collision, “This shirt is expensive!” You looked up and realized that dark coffee had stained the boy’s light-coloured shirt. The look on his face caused your heart to drop and eyes to widen.

“I’m so sorry! I really am! I’m just late–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation,” he scoffed. He stood up, peeling the shirt off of his skin. It tented easily.

“I can repay you…” You say quickly, speaking before you could even process what you wanted to say.

“Can you pay for a hundred-dollar shirt?”

You shake your head, but you think of alternative ways to repay him. Only him interrupting you even before you could begin listing them indicated that he wanted none of it, “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” And at that he leaves you stunned, belongings still scattered around your puzzled self.

“Well fuck you, then,” you mumbled. Rolling your eyes, you were pulled back into the situation you had been in prior to the encounter. Class was a lot more important than some douche anyway.

Another encounter between you both happened after about a month of the first. The Starbucks found on campus was not at its busiest, yet it was not quite empty either. The baristas and cashiers worked their hardest to satisfy their customers, walking to and from different stations behind the counter.

“Hi, can I order a grande iced caramel macchiato?” You questioned, one of your earphones sitting in your hand. The cashier nodded, asking for your name and other necessary information before you paid.

You thanked her before slowly moving towards the serving counter, taking notice of the boy when you did. He had his head down, attention directed at his phone’s screen. He, too, had earphones in, practically blocking out his surroundings. In a way, you were glad he didn’t notice your presence, the memory of last month’s conflict running through your head.

You placed yourself at the corner of the cafe, away from the boy but close to the counter. When you ordered at a cafe, you would often pay attention to the baristas, watching as they mixed up the drinks. You could see yours being made, which had been quick as there were still people waiting for their drinks.

When the barista finally clicked a lid onto the cup, you begin making your way to the counter, ready to take it and leave. She slid the designated smaller straw next to the drink, so you grabbed it before the drink, then made your leave. Little did you know, the drink you took wasn’t actually your drink.

“Excuse me!”

You genuinely didn’t hear the boy calling you because of music blaring through your earphones. And even though he was waving his arms to catch your attention through your peripheral vision, your attention was poured entirely on the drink you held snugly in your hand, poking the straw in.

“Excuse me!”

He finally caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder to stop you. The sudden contact caused you to jump, attention shooting from the drink and up to the boy. You don’t say anything, pausing the current bop that was playing.

“That’s my drink,” he gestured towards the drink, “Well not my drink but my friend told me to pick it up for him.”

You look down at the name, seeing a Donghyuck printed on the sticker. You blushed and replied sheepishly, “Oh I’m sorry, I genuinely thought it was mine…” You hold it out to him, “Do you want it? I haven't taken a sip from it yet.”

“Of course I want it, I’ve been waiting for ages,” he mutters, promptly grabbing the drink from your hand. Without another word, he walks away, muttering a string of words you couldn’t quite make out.

“What? No ‘thank you’?!” You yell back.

He doesn’t turn back, and not because he had his music playing, but because he didn’t want to. You curse under your breath and walk back to the cafe, seeing that your drink with your name on it had been waiting for you.

Though you didn’t have the right to judge an individual, especially since you didn’t even know his name, the two encounters had given you a bad image of him. Two encounters in two different situations… you were being polite in both situations regardless of how embarrassed you had been only to be returned with cold responses. Who did he think he was?

“Li Shang.”

“I agree, one hundred percent,” you replied. Yeji held up a hand for you to give her a high-five, which you completed. The conversation topic on Disney Princes had been more entertaining than the chemistry homework due next week, “That’s why you’re my best friend.”

“Him and Prince Naveen,” she kisses her fingers in a ‘chef kiss’ type of movement, “That’s all I have to say.”

“Also!” You hold up a finger, pause for dramatic effect and state, “Tadashi Hamada.”

“He’s not a prince… but I will let it pass because it’s Tadashi Hamada,” she giggles. You watch her sit back in the library chair she pulled out from another table because it had padding for your butt, smiling. She drops her pen onto her textbook, “Taste.”

Before you could reply and add to her comment, a third presence appears to the right of you and the left of Yeji, which puts the conversation on pause. You turn to see Jaemin bent down to catch his breath. He had a wrinkled sheet of paper in one hand and his phone in the other, his bag open at the top.

“Woah, are you good?” You asked, standing up and assisting him towards one of the seats as if he were one of the elderly you helped once in a while at the old folks home. He nods but keeps silent, taking in deep breaths.

Once Jaemin finally caught his breath, he began to spew out whatever news he had for you or Yeji, “That’s the… most exercise I’ve… done in years.” He gulps and sighs out, “Anyways, Y/N you’re looking for a place to work or volunteer at right? Like art-wise or something? Kids? Puppies? I don’t know… I forgot what you were going for…”

You nodded, “Just any type of volunteer or temporary job… Yeah, I still have no luck.”

“Well, this is perfect for you then!” Jaemin flattens out the crumpled-up sheet of paper in front of you, “They need some people to help paint a mural for this daycare. No previous experience needed. As long as you can hold a paintbrush!”

Yeji leans in to get a look at the sheet, “Woah, you get paid too! That sounds like fun. I would do it with you if I wasn’t busy with these damn classes.” She sinks back into her chair and begins playing with the sheets of her textbook.

“I ran here because a bunch of people might want the job.” Jaemin says, “The daycare is literally just behind the campus.”

You stand up, the adrenaline Jaemin previously possessed taking over your veins, “Can you watch my stuff!?” Your phone was already in hand and you were ready to sprint out of the library and to the daycare Jaemin had been talking about.

“Of cou–“

And at that, you were gone and running towards the building. To your luck, the library was by the back of the campus, so the run wasn’t as far as you anticipated. You could sense other students eyeing you as you sped past, though you didn’t really care since you were merely a flash in their eyes.

Once you had arrived at the daycare, you entered and made your way to the front counter, “Hello, I’m here for the painting job?”

The lady at the desk looked exhausted, eyes halfway closed and face struggling to present a welcome expression, “Can you draw and paint? All that kind of stuff?”

“Yes! That’s mostly why the job appealed to me,” you replied, “Do you need a resum–“

“You’re hired…” she mumbled stiffly, “Please fill this sheet out and show up here on Saturday at one in the afternoon for further instruction.”

Smiling, partly stunned, you nodded before turning to leave. That was easier than you thought… all that running was worth it.

TWO.

You sat across the street from the daycare, contemplating whether it would be better to come early or right on time. Through the windows, you could see that they weren’t as busy as yesterday due to it being a Saturday. It wouldn’t hurt to show up early right? Standing up, you dust your butt off before making your way to the crosswalk.

“Hello, I’m here for the job information. I was hired yesterday,” you explained, “My name is Y/N L/N.” The person (wo)manning the desk was a different lady from a few days ago. The woman held a smile on her face, one that reached her eyes so, to you, it seemed like a genuine smile. You squinted at her name tag, which read Joy.

Huh… fitting…

“Oh good!” She exclaimed, “Now you can sit just over there as we’re waiting for another person.”

“Another person?”

“Of course! We’re not expecting one person to work on the entire mural alone. It’s larger than it looks, so we decided to hire anyone who asked. Those two were you two,” she explained the situation, “I’ll further explain the objective of the assignment when the other boy arrives.”

Your ears perked up as you nodded, Boy? A small little piece of you started hoping that, whoever this other person was, was cute.

You hear the door open behind you, a small greeting leaving the lips of the smiley woman, “Oh! This must be him! Are you here for the job?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the voice replied. It sounded rather familiar, but you were unable to pinpoint who it could have belonged to. Curious, you turn to look at the owner of the voice. Once you had processed who had been standing a few feet away from you, your jaw dropped.

You both speak at once, evidently shocked at the coincidence.

“You!?”

You couldn’t help but feel the sudden impulse to quit the job before it even started. You’d rather accidentally fall into dog shit than work with this unnamed douche of a boy.

“Do you two know each other?” Joy questioned, “That’s even bett–“

“N-no, not quite,” you interrupted, “We’ve just… had a few encounters on campus.” You choose to turn your body completely towards Joy so that you couldn’t accidentally look at the other presence.

Joy nods, “Makes sense… Anyways, name?” She directed the question towards the boy, pulling out another sheet from a clipboard.

“Huang Renjun.” It was funny finally being able to put a name to his face, especially after all this time. But you very much preferred ‘that boy’ over his name.

You feel him approach the desk, standing beside you as Joy begins going over the job instructions. You two were expected to paint a mural over the next month, about two to four days per week depending on how long you both worked. The theme of the painting is what was expected from a daycare mural, something pleasing to the eye, especially the eyes of kids. The two of you had freedom over what you wanted to paint but were expected to get the idea checked over by Joy before the actual painting started. Once that was approved, they’ll provide all the supplies for the painting process to begin. Easy.

If only you were working on the project with anyone else but Huang Renjun.

“Any further questions?” Joy concluded, shifting her glance between you and Renjun. You both shook your heads, “Okay good. I think a rough deadline for the idea should be around the end of next week? The boss really needs this done in a month.” You both nodded silently before turning to leave the daycare.

“How do you want to brainstorm the idea?” Renjun had muttered before you were able to walk off.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “How do you?”

He scowls, “I guess we can just meet up here during designated hours?”

“That makes the most sense, doesn’t it?” you don’t feel like replying to him kindly if he spoke with an underlying attitude. Someone really needed to teach him basic manners.

“Whatever.” Renjun leaves you alone in front of the daycare, giving you a chance to roll your eyes behind his back.

You choose not to walk away from the daycare until you’re sure he’s left, opting to use your phone and scroll through whatever notifications you’ve missed during the meeting. Your face is left in a painful grimace, one that you didn’t even feel you’ve rendered on your face.

You can’t believe you’re working on a team project with this particular boy out of all people. Yes, it was a bit overdramatic, but you’re not quite sure how to work with someone you’ve only had bad encounters with. It also doesn’t help that he seems to have mutual feelings for you—which you find particularly ridiculous since you really haven’t done anything wrong to him on purpose.

It’s somehow the next day when you’re able to tell Yeji about the happenings of yesterday. Though the topic only came up when Jaemin questions you about the gig and Yeji notices how your face contorts into a stiff frown. The both of you are sitting in the dining hall, food half-finished but untouched for the past ten minutes.

“What’s up with your face?” Yeji questions, almost laughing out loud at your shift in mood. This is something you really liked about Yeji. She was talented at reading facial expressions. There could be the tiniest quirk in your brow and she’d be questioning you to world’s end.

You purse your lips and stare back at her, “What face?”

“This face,” Yeji contorts her face into an exaggerated glower, “What’s up with that? I thought you were excited about the painting gig?” Jaemin nods along to what Yeji said.

You don’t reply for one long second, trying to figure out how to explain to your best friend what happened yesterday afternoon. “Do you remember that guy I was really pissed off about a few weeks ago?”

Yeji pauses to think, “The guy with the coffee?”

You think about it and realize that both encounters you’ve had with Huang Renjun involved coffee. “Yeah, him! Today, at the meeting, guess who came as my temporary partner for the project.”

“No way!” Yeji’s eyes open, “That’s a whole coincidence! No wonder why you looked all pissed.” You can tell by the new wave of expression on her face that she feels sorry, “Is he still… douchey?”

Your eyes widen as you nod, leaning forward, “Yeah, but what’s new?” You’re about to roll your eyes, mouth opening with an intention to add more, but Yeji’s eyes shift from you to something behind you. She holds her gaze there for a few moments before her brows furrow in confusion. Her eyes flicker back to you.

“You know it’s not good to be talking bad about someone behind their backs right?” You turn and see Renjun with a friend of his. “Someone’s ending up on Santa’s naughty list.”

Your brows knit together, “You’re one to say something…”

Renjun throws you a look before taking a long sip from his drink. You can’t help but look at the beverage, an iced matcha latte, and feel yourself craving it. It looks good.

Renjun clears his throat, “Anyways, we’re meeting tomorrow.” His friend stands awkwardly behind him, looking like he just wants to be there to eat.

“That doesn’t even sound like a question,” you point out.

He shrugs, “Because it’s not… I have places to be.”

You look over at Yeji who’s witnessing the attitude of the one and only Huang Renjun. Even you can see that Yeji’s shocked at how Renjun’s interacting with you.

“Fine, whatever,” you wave him off, “Whatever makes you leave.”

“Good, because I wasn’t even going to give you a choice. I’m showing up even if you’re not there.” At that, Renjun and his (poor) friend walk away, leaving both you and Yeji rather stunned.

In the corner of your eye, you see Yeji turn to look at you, so you look back, noticing her sorry expression, “Good luck tomorrow, Y/N.”

You thank her. Not because it was what people usually replied to the comment, but because you knew you genuinely needed it.

THREE.

Upon entering the daycare and being directed into a secluded room by Irene, another employee who ran the desk, you find Renjun sitting hunched over a sheet of paper. You could see his hand was working fast and that his attention was focused mostly on whatever he was doing. One side of the room gave you and Renjun a look at the main area of the daycare.

“You’re late,” he muttered, not looking up.

“You’re early,” you retorted. The clock at the corner of the room tells the truth. You had only been five minutes late. How much brainstorming could the boy have even done in that span of time?

He doesn’t reply to your response, slumping back in his chair to continue his brainstorming. You can’t help but make a face behind his back, slipping into a chair at the same table but across from him, refusing to sit next to him. You didn’t want him looking over your shoulder during your creative process, or else you’d lose your mind.

But then you remembered that you were here to work with him. “You know, we met up here so that we can work on the idea together,” you point out, “But you do seem like the person who wouldn’t know what the word cooperation means.” Not even two minutes into this so-called meeting and you want to leave.

Maybe you should just quit.

“You don’t even know me?” Renjun lifts his head towards you and scoffed, “So you can’t say that.” “You’re right,” you nodded, “I don’t know you, but I’ve bumped into you enough times to know you don’t give a single fuck about those you don’t know.” You pull out a pencil from your bag and take one of the spare sheets of paper sitting in the middle of the table. You start to write out random phrases that come to mind, whether it be inspirational or a pop culture reference.

Renjun scoffs, “I’ll have you know, most of our encounters happened because of you.” You can see he’s adding colour to his draft, giving you no direct attention, “This all would be avoided if you weren’t an accident waiting to happen.”

“You know there’s always better ways to go about those same situations,” you spit back, “Because, I don’t know, accidents happen? Other people wouldn’t make big deals out of them.”

Renjun mutters a quiet ‘whatever,’ under his breath, huffing out in frustration as he continues with his draft. At this point, you’re halfway done with your draft, which consisted of a cute scene of kids and a generic playground background. It was a bit mediocre, but you thought simple was cute. You both continue on in silence, letting the sounds of the kids playing drown it out.

The silence wasn’t awkward. In fact, you could listen to the serene, no-sound room as if it were a hit song you’ve been obsessing over the past week. Anything but Renjun’s voice was a blessing, especially in situations like this.

After about half an hour, Renjun looks over at your draft, “You do know kids can’t read, right? At least kids attending this daycare.”

You scowl. “Yeah and?” You continued with your business, “Haven’t you seen that movie ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’?”

Renjun thinks for a hot second, “No.”

Your eyes shot up at him, surprised that he hasn’t seen the classic. When you weren’t in the mood to watch other movies, you’d naturally gravitate towards rewatching that one. It was a good movie, one that made you cry, yes, but you liked the underlying meaning behind the movie. “That explains everything.”

“What do you mean?”

You ignore his question completely, “There were words on that daycare’s mural, I don’t think it’s wrong to add some words to the mural, Huang Renjun. Besides, lettering is what I’m best at.”

Renjun glares at you. “What if I don’t want words on the mural?” He quickly glances down at his own picture. It was more of a realistic picture, one of the skies with balloons floating through the scene. Attached to some of the balloons were toys or items associated with being a kid. It was simple, but he found it rather cute. To him, it beat your average picture of kids by a playground.

“What if I don’t want… whatever that is?” you childishly argue back, “Look, I know my idea is simple, but simple is easier and simple is usually best. Your picture has so much shading… imagine the two of us having to paint that.”

Renjun tries to hold back a laugh, “Are you serious? My picture’s obviously better than yours.”

You both immaturely argue for another twenty minutes, pointing out the most ridiculous reasons for why your own pictures were one-hundred-and-ten percent better than the other’s. And it was consequently the stubbornness that both you and Renjun possessed that leaves you both with no decision by the time the shift was near over.

Your eyes drift to the clock sitting above the window, “Time’s almost up and we still haven’t figured out what we want to do. Let’s just settle with mine.” You push the picture towards the centre of the table, eyes holding your hopes of your idea being chosen. Maybe Renjun will finally break.

“I don’t think we should,” Renjun shrugs, voice monotone, “Let’s just… decide on it the next shift. I really don’t want to deal with this—or you—right now.” Renjun picks his phone up and takes a picture of his and your pictures sitting in the middle of the table for reference.

You follow in pursuit before snatching your draft from its spot. You feel a sense of relief knowing that you can finally return to your Huang-Renjun-less life. “Fine, whatever you want. I don’t wanna deal with you either.”

The shift abruptly ends with Renjun taking his leave first, leaving the room without another word. He bids a quick goodbye to Irene, who has no knowledge of what just happened before exiting the building entirely.

Renjun feels nothing but irritation walking back to his dorm room. Days ago, he remembers being excited about the gig. He gets paid to do something he truly loves, all while giving such a flat looking building some colour to make it pop, which clearly was a win-win for both him and the daycare. But the fact that you’re there with the apparent purpose to contradict everything he’s planned, the excitement was simply sucked out of it all.

Renjun finally settles back at his shared dorm room, hanging his bag on the back of the nearest dining room chair before sitting himself at the couch, where both Donghyuck and Jeno were playing Super Smash Bros. Although they were rather loud, he’s just glad to be back in an atmosphere he knows he can relax in.

“Hey, how was your painting thingy?” Jeno asks, eyes glued to the screen. In between Jeno’s question and Renjun’s response, there’s rapid clicking coming from the two boys’ controllers.

“It was… fine, I guess,” Renjun mutters. He pulls up his phone and mindlessly swipes through social media.

Both Donghyuck and Jeno don’t fail to notice the bummed tone in his voice. Donghyuck speaks up, “‘I guess’?” There’s more clicking, “You suck at this, Jeno.”

“Remember who I’m working with?” Renjun hints, “She literally contradicts everything I say and do for no fucking reason. It’s draining.”

More clicks. Then Jeno finally replies, “That doesn’t sound fun at all. Maybe she’s not aware about what she’s doing?”

Renjun sighs, “I think she knows what she’s doing. I just think she’s doing it to spite me. You should hear her arguments. They’re so senseless and they make me want to laugh.”

On his phone, Renjun pulls up the photo he’s taken of both of your drafts and enlarges yours. This is the first time today that he’s able to properly look at your picture and he can’t help but actually like it. No, he still doesn’t like your idea about the kids and the playground, but the words you had chosen to letter over top the main picture.

Adventure Is Out There. Although it was pulled directly from the movie Up, the quote works perfectly well with the daycare’s name, The Adventurers. He liked it. But he wouldn’t admit that to your face.

Renjun zooms out of your picture to show both of your drafts once again, eyes glancing between both images. The gears in his head begin turning, Renjun’s creative process in the works, as begins mustering up an idea that could possibly work for the both of you.

“How about we take your quote and add it to my picture?”

It’s two days later and Renjun’s monotonously suggesting the idea that had developed in his mind some nights ago. No other ideas have been brought up since then and Renjun wants nothing else but to start on the project.

You look up at him with a raised brow, “Oh, so Huang Renjun’s finally admitting that his picture is plain as shit?” You’re not against what Renjun’s suggesting, only because what he was thinking made sense. The balloons that his drawing had reminded you of Up. It did go well with your quote, plus you were able to incorporate your want of lettering.

Renjun narrows his eyes at you, “It’s not ‘plain as shit.’ I just want to get this over with.” He reaches for a brand new piece of paper and begins drawing a second copy of his drawing.

You sigh. “Fine whatever. But I get to suggest something about it too.” You eye how quick he was to copy down his drawing, head pivoting back and forth to replicate it.

Renjun chooses not to look up, “What is it?” Although he was willing to hear you out, there’s still a splash of irritation in his voice.

“Don’t make it so realistic.”

His head is brought up to look at you, “And why not?”

“It’s a daycare,” you say flatly, “Do you not remember that? Where’s the ‘cute’ factor in making it look realistic? This isn’t a commission from the city, Huang Renjun.”

You have a valid point, Renjun thinks. He admits he’s been treating this as more important than it really was, but that’s just how he was. “Fine. It will be easier to paint anyway.” Renjun turns back to the new drawing, making it a little more kid-like. He refrains from colouring the picture before sliding it in your direction, “The quote.”

Pulling the new draft towards you, you pick up your own pencil and start your part of the drawing. Looking at Renjun’s sketch, you realize that you can’t place the words exactly how you had it on your original draft. There were areas that you didn’t want to cover.

“After you’re done, I’ll colour it,” Renjun mutters, “Write down the supplies we need, then we can leave.”

Only you using your eyes to look at him, you reply, “Sure.” And when he looks back down at his phone, you roll your eyes. Someone needs to tell him to simmer down with his attitude. Then maybe you can tolerate him easier.

You pass the sheet of paper back to Renjun and sigh. There’s a sense of relief in your chest when you realize that this part of the process was over. Thinking back to two days ago, the way you and Renjun argued over what to do for the mural, you thought that there was no way you were getting it done in time, at least not with both of you being satisfied.

But that’s all done and over with. Luckily this was the hardest part of the project.

Right?

FOUR.

“You’re gonna be there for how long?” Yeji peers over her laptop’s screen, eyes wide at what you just told her.

“Four hours,” you answer, “That’s not even that long, Yej.” You’re laughing quietly as you put your sneakers on, half-assedly tying the laces. The walk there is around ten minutes and it’s already 1:48. You can already hear Renjun’s ‘you’re late,’ along with his deadpan expression.

“I know, but I’m going to be here alone on a weekend afternoon,” she whines. You watch as her face quickly changes expressions, “Wait do you want me to bring you a snack later? Rub it into Renjun’s face that you have a great best friend who brings you food?” She bats her eyes and angles her face to convince you into saying yes.

You shake your head, “It’s only four hours today cause we’re finally starting the mural and we want to get the base done today. And I’ll be fine, I promise. Maybe invite Jaemin here for the time being.”

“He’s off somewhere with his friend,” Yeji sighs, “But whatever you say. I’ll miss you!”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Bye Yej. I’ll miss you, too.” And at that, you’re off to the daycare.

The peaceful walk to the daycare can be the calm before the storm, the storm being Huang Renjun. The idea made you laugh a little bit, childishly picturing Renjun like how animators would draw angry anime characters with a crimson face, steam blowing out of their ears and nose, and pupil-less eyes. You feel like that��s the only emotional state you’ve seen the boy in and you can’t help but curiously imagine how Renjun’s smile would look.

You shake that thought out of your head before you let it run further into nonsense, finally arriving at the building. Through the glass doors, you can see Renjun sitting by the front desk. Upon entering, Joy, who was sitting at her computer, looks up with a bright smile, “Good afternoon, Y/N.” Renjun does nothing but let his attention waver over you for a quick second before going back to his own business.

“Hi, Joy,” you greet back, “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Renjun finally stands up and stands at your side.

“Oh, no, no! You’re right on time and I will speak to you guys very quickly before I let you guys get to work,” she rounds the counter and leads you both to the meeting room like always, “So since the draft was approved, the supplies you needed, plus ones I’ve added are just in here. Grab what you need and you guys are free to start.” She shows you a closet near the back of the room, opening the door to reveal the many supplies that were ordered.

“Thank you, Joy,” Renjun nodded.

“It’s no problem! If you guys have any concerns, you know who to go to!” Spinning on her heel, Joy flashes one last smile.

“Chalk, white paint, string, ruler,” Renjun mumbles, taking the supplies up into his arms.

You grab the paint brushes, “Why do we need half of what you just said?”

Renjun’s walking out of the room, paying almost no mind to you and your question.

“Huang Renjun,” you say firmly, “Can you answer my question?” You both are outside at this point, “Or… or else I’ll chuck this brush at you!” Although it was a joke, you subconsciously knew you would if he seriously didn’t open his mouth within the next minute.

“So I can draw a grid?” He speaks to you as if you were stupid.

Oh, he’s going to get it, you think, but your thoughts and your body think and do different things. Your body decides to stay grounded where you were, “And why would we need a grid?”

Renjun huffs and turns to his bag. He fishes out the draft you both had made last week, only there’s a graph lightly drawn over it, “So we can replicate the picture onto the wall.” Renjun thought this over the past few days. If he and you wanted to mural to turn out exactly how you both had drawn it, eyeing it wouldn’t be the best to go about it. Hell, even drawing out a rough sketch of it could be difficult through eyeing it.

“Can’t we just free-hand it?” You’re not understanding why Renjun wants to make the job more difficult than it was. There were only two of you. If there were maybe four of you working on the mural, then sure, go ahead and draw a graph, but there were only two of you.

Renjun shakes his head, “I think it’s worth it to draw the graph, that way there’s no chance of messing up.” He fiddles mindlessly with the string he’s been holding. You can tell by the expression on his face that he’s serious about this. You want to tell him that, ‘bro, this is a mural for a daycare, it doesn’t need to be one-hundred-percent perfect,’ but Renjun looks like he’s ready to fight for what he wants.

“Fine, let’s draw the graph,” you say.

Renjun looks at you confused. Why’d you back down so quick? “Huh?”

“But you do it all on your own.”

Ah… There it is.

“I’ll just sit here and wait for you to finish.”

Renjun wants to laugh out loud, not because the situation was funny, but because he can’t believe you’re actually saying what you just said. “Are you serious?”

You sit down at a nearby bench and nod, “Why would I be joking? You sure do act like you know what you want to do… so, go ahead. Do it.” A spiteful smile rises upon your lips and you wave for him to go on with his task. Being the stubborn boy he was, Renjun gives you one firm look before turning towards the small ladder. He drags it towards the right end of the wall and begins preparing the materials.

You watch him out of curiosity, wanting to know how he’ll manage to do it all on his own. You want to see if he’ll ask for your help, or end up wanting to free-hand the rough sketch in end. But as you do observe Renjun, it’s clear that he’s not going to ask for help or give up.

Renjun measures out string that’s about the height of the wall, 3 metres tall, and then the length, which was near 4 and a half metres long. Grabbing measuring tape, Renjun uses the ladder to measure and divide the wall into foot-by-foot squares, marking the corners of the squares with dark chalk lines. The job’s going to take long, that’s for sure, and watching him move up and down the ladder, while he tries his best to keep his marks aligned, you can’t help but feel bad for making him do it on his own.

But then again, he wasn’t asking for help.

Renjun on the other hand is struggling and he hopes you don’t see it. Yes, two hands were enough for the daily tasks he has grown accustomed to, but two hands weren’t enough to do this very task efficiently. There’s a voice at the very back of his brain that was itching him to ask you for help, but as always, Renjun and his stubborn ass refuse to do so, even if he’s on the edge of falling off of the ladder.

“Can you hand me the black paint?” Renjun asks about forty-five minutes later. His hairline is drenched from sweat and the lack of expression on his face reveals how tired he was, “Please.” He hopes that you’d at least help with this.

Without another word between the two of you, you stand up and pick up the bucket of black paint. You quickly plop it down next to the foot of the ladder before looking up at him, “Are you done with the graph?” You try your best to sound disinterested, eyes moving across the wall.

Renjun blinks down at you, “Does it look finished?”

There’s a caring instinct in you that notices the exhausted look in Renjun’s eyes. His eyelids are drooping, and he’s sniffling from the constant moving he’s been doing. Renjun’s sweating profusely from the sun beating down on the both of you, and you’re brought to wonder if he was prepared to be worked up to this degree.

When your eyes meet his, you’re instantly pulled from your thoughts and you remember that you’re not supposed to give a single fuck about Huang Renjun, even if he’s working his ass off like this. He looks like he’s waiting for you to answer or leave to go sit back down. But a rogue idea somehow assembles itself in your head and you decide to just go with it. You roll your eyes, “Well, I’m going to the washroom if you aren’t.”

“Whatever.” He gives you one last glare before turning to the black paint and the string.

You start making your way to the front door of the building, sending Renjun sneaky glances. The second he’s paying you no attention, both direct and peripheral, you make a break for it and start sprinting towards the centre of campus. There was no doubt that you look like a madman right now, zooming past students who were still on campus despite the day of the week, but you didn’t care. If you want to pull this off, then you need to do this quick—and quick means running like you were in a life or death situation.

Finally reaching your destination, you decide to take a breather, hands on your knees and everything. Your mind wanders back to the day you applied for the gig, getting deja vu from the exhaustion you’re feeling right now.

Once you finally are able to catch your breath, you make your way into the building and sigh at the air conditioning.

“Y/N! Hi! The usual?” The Starbucks worker, one you’ve obviously seen plenty of times, looks at you in an odd way but goes with the flow nonetheless. She’s smiling at you, finger hovering over the screen in front of her as she waits for a response.

You nod and add, “Add an iced matcha latte to that too. Make it venti, please.” She nods and continues on with the usual routine.

You left as quickly as you came, although this time, you’re sprinting with a bit more caution, not wanting to spill the drinks you’ve used your own money for. You can’t help but wonder what Renjun was thinking right now—what were you doing in the washroom for so long?

The two drinks you were holding in both of your hands said it all, though there was still no explanation why you decided to sacrifice some of your time and money for Renjun. It was just the nice person instinct inside of you that decided to do so.

You’ll complain about it to yourself later.

When you finally return from your little mission, you’re lucky enough to arrive when Renjun’s distracted with the graph. You notice he’s done the vertical lines within the time you were gone.

“That was a long washroom break,” Renjun muttered rather loudly. He’s pressing the paint-soaked string against the wall, face angled slightly to the side in focus, “I was beginning to think you ditched me.”

You shoot him a glare behind his back and contemplate whether you should throw the drink that you bought for him at him. Instead, you say nothing and put the drink down next to his things, making sure it was in a spot that was safe from the surroundings.

Renjun looks back at you, instantly noticing that you were now holding an entire Starbucks drink in your hand, completely missing the one sitting by his things. “Didn’t know they had a Starbucks in the washroom.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm and hints of irritation. He still can’t believe he’s actually been working on the graph for almost two hours on his own.

“Oh yeah, they just opened one a week ago,” you shoot back. You plop into your previous place and sit there, taking out your phone to distract you from Renjun.

You don’t realize how much time has passed when you see a pair of feet stop in front of you. You’re brought to look up at the owner, “What do you want?”

“I want a break.” Renjun answers flatly, “I’m done with the graph. Now work on transferring it.” He holds out the same draft he had shown you earlier, waiting for you to take it. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show his shoulders and he’s using a small towel, that was originally supposed to be for the paintbrushes, to wipe his forehead.

“Sure” was all you said before snatching the draft from his fingertips.

All the hard work was done for you. Transferring it was easy.

Gathering the supplies you needed, chalk, paintbrushes, and white paint, you get going on transmitting the draft onto the wall. The moment you start the rough sketch of the mural, you feel a wave of nostalgia hit you, remembering the countless activity books you completed as a kid. You can distinctly recall the pages where one side displayed a cute drawing of an animal or character of some sort, overlaid by a graph, while the page next to it shows an empty graph in which you were instructed to redraw the completed picture. This was exactly like that, only bigger and not for leisure.

Your delight in starting distracts you easily from Renjun, who you unknowingly finally notices the drink you had gotten him not even thirty minutes earlier. Although he’s a bit puzzled by the drink, remembering damn well that he never got the drink himself, he lets his line of sight drift to your half-finished drink sitting by your things. When realization begins settling in, he does one more thing to confirm his thoughts.

Twisting the drink in his grasp, Renjun faces the sticker label towards him, eyes instantly finding what he was looking for.

*Y/N*

His eyes flicker up to you, standing firmly at the top of the step ladder, unaware of the fact that his eyes have widened and the corners of his mouth have climbed higher on his face. Despite the fact he’s thankful and a bit sorry that he was giving you attitude the second you got back from your ‘washroom break,’ the larger part of Renjun that’s still certainly irritated with you doesn’t say thank you.

Not out loud at least.

FIVE.

Painting a mural required many steps because painting on a giant wall was different to painting on a smaller, feasible canvas. You and Renjun were lucky enough that the wall had already been painted white, which you guess covered whatever was painted underneath.

Two shifts ago, you both had managed to finish the outline of the image you both had prepared for the mural, and the shift after that, you both opted to outline the main subjects of the mural with the base colours.

Although no problems had really arisen between the both of you (if you didn’t count small arguments about what shade of said colour a balloon should be), one weird thing you both noticed was the fact that none of you will willingly start on the same side as the other. You were no professional artist, nor have you been painting your entire life, but you knew damn well that the process of painting an image often involved starting at one part of the painting (usually the top) before working towards the other end. But regardless, the mural was, to your surprise, looking well done.

Today was the third day, and counting, of painting said first layer, and if you were being honest, you were having the fun you expected when you first applied for the gig. But you knew it was probably because you and Renjun simply chose not to speak with each other, aside from the simple ‘where’s the thicker paintbrush’ or ‘can you hand me that (mural painting tool here),’ there was an unspoken almost-truce between the two of you.

Leaning towards the wall, you apply lavender-coloured paint in short strokes, following the shape of the balloon you’ve been working for the past eleven minutes. You have music playing through your headphones, the volume just above half, and you can’t help but bop your head to the music.

“It’s almost five,” Renjun says quietly to you. He’s been working in silence the past few hours, but he almost loses track of time because of how caught up he’s gotten with painting. If it hadn’t been for the watch on his wrist, he would have gone overtime.

You don’t reply to him, continuing with your painting while Renjun begins to clean up. He finishes up with what he was working on before climbing down the ladder. He rinses the brush down and dries it, placing it into the paintbrush container that was provided for you both. Noticing that you haven’t moved from your spot, Renjun calls out to you again, “Hey! It’s almost five. We need to start cleaning up.”

Renjun sighs when he realizes you still can’t hear him, forcing him to walk up to you to catch your attention. He tugs gently at your jeans, which almost immediately catch your attention. You pull one side of your headphones off and glare down at him, “What do you want?”

“I said it’s five,” Renjun reciprocates your attitude, “Start cleaning up.” He turns away and starts gathering his things.

You blow a stray piece of hair from in front of your face and roll your eyes, though you are surprised that Renjun had the decency to let you know it’s time to go. You climb down your own ladder and do just as Renjun did earlier before carefully placing everything into a large storage bin. Then, once you were sure all the supplies were gathered inside the bin, you go to retrieve the step ladder, folding it so that you could use your shoulder to carry it. Renjun stands at one side of the bin to help you carry it, already having his belongings hanging from one shoulder.

It takes you both no longer than a minute to return the supplies to the closet, leaving with a goodbye to Irene, but no exchanges between the two of you (unsurprisingly). You let Renjun leave first, staying back to text Yeji where she and Jaemin were.

At the library studying!

Jaemin brought brownies

Say less.

You arrive at the library within the length of two songs, immediately finding the two sitting in the area that you all usually sat at. You were expecting them to be deep in focus, table drowning in pages and textbooks of their respective classes, but instead, you catch Yeji telling Jaemin to ‘shut up before we’re kicked out.’

“I thought you guys were supposed to be studying,” you snort, taking the spot next to Yeji. After standing for hours straight, being able to finally sit down felt good in the knees.

“Yeah, we were, but then Jaemin decided to bring up the topic of ugliest animals and we’ve been arguing ever since.” Yeji glares at Jaemin, “He claims that axolotls are the ugliest, but I say they’re cute.”

Jaemin starts laughing but you send him a look that was similar to Yeji’s, “Axolotls are cute, what are you even saying!?” Yeji’s eyes widen as she brings a hand up to cover your mouth. She shushes you.

She removes her hand from your mouth and you repeat yourself, but lower your volume, “What are you even saying? They look like they’re smiling.”

Jaemin gasps, “Excuse me? Name an animal uglier than an axolotl.”

“Easy.” You shrug and answer flatly, “You.” Obviously joking, you wave your hand as if to shoo away the statement, “Just kidding. A blobfish. Those are ugly as shit.”

Jaemin’s brows furrow as he leans forward towards his laptop to search it up. The way his face contorts itself makes you laugh, looking at you as if he’s seen the most disgusting image known to man (which probably did), “Shit, you’re right.”

You nod, “Exactly.”

Yeji laughs because she knows she won the argument thanks to your help. She quickly moves on with the topic, twisting the chair to face you, “So, how was your shift today?” Yeji’s expecting to hear something entertaining, especially since you’re working with Renjun.

“It was fine,” you say, “But it’s been like the past few days where me or Renjun don’t even talk to each other except for maybe the start and end. We work on the opposite sides of the mural anyways, so there’s no conflict. I’ve just been listening to my own music, too, so even if he does want to talk, he has to make an effort, which I know he won’t do.”

“Oh,” Yeji says, “Well, at least it isn’t as bad as those first few days. You guys just both sound done with each other.” You nodded and play with your phone in hand, not noticing the way Yeji’s attention diverts to Jaemin, “Oh right!”

“Hm?”

“Jaemin, tell Y/N what you were telling me about Renjun!” Your ears perk up at the mention of Renjun and possible gossip. Jaemin, though introverted, loved to branch out which meant he knew people through people. You wonder what type of stuff he’s heard of Renjun through acquaintances. This should be good.

For the hundredth time within the hour, Jaemin is distracted from his pending paper, but he doesn’t mind. He’d do anything to get away from actually working on it. Besides, he still has a week to work on it. “Oh, right!” He sits up and slides his computer to the side, “It’s interesting actually.”

The way Jaemin starts has you leaning in out of curiosity. This is probably what Yeji feels when you’re preparing to tell her about your day at the gig. “What is it?”

Jaemin lets out a ‘haha,’ then begins, “So, my friend Jeno knows Donghyuck because they went to high school together, and Donghyuck was the guy that was with Renjun that day at the dining hall, so we all basically know each other. I just don’t know Renjun as well because the dude is M.I.A. almost all the time.”

“Mm-hmm, go on.”

“I was telling Jeno how you were doing the painting gig with Renjun—don’t worry I didn’t say anything ’bout how you sorta loathe the guy—and Jeno was saying how Renjun’s always using his free time doing stuff like that.” Jaemin stops talking as if he’s explained every single detail he can about his small story.

“What stuff?” You gesture for him to keep going because you’re missing a handful of information, “You can’t just end it there, the fuck?”

Jaemin laughs again, “Okay, okay, sorry. But in fairness, I was curious too so I said the same thing and asked Jeno to explain it a bit more.” The brown of Jaemin’s eyes visibly move upwards as he tries to recall what Jeno told him, “He told me that Renjun is always M.I.A. because he’s been volunteering at different places. He used to work at an animal shelter downtown, then quit to volunteer at the homeless shelter for women and children. But he quit that too, now he’s been volunteering at the retirement home near here. I guess he took up the painting gig for money though.”

You burst out laughing, “Ah, Na Jaemin…”

“What!?”

“Thank you for the laugh, Jaems,” you say, “But that’s such a bad joke. There’s no way Renjun’s done those things. If it is true, we’re not talking about the same Renjun.” The Renjun you know doing all that stuff? Please… it sounds like something straight out of a book.

“His name is Huang Renjun, right?” Jaemin’s head tilts to the side. You nod. “Then, it’s him.” You gawk at your friend, “I’m sorry, it’s just… hard to believe that Renjun—the same guy who acts like some douche to total strangers—has done all of that.” It’s hard to picture it all, but it explains why Renjun decided to take up the daycare gig. It was all adding up now, but you’re not letting the realization settle that easily. “It was hard for me to believe it, too, especially with what you’ve told us about him.” Jaemin uses his arm to prop his head up, “But, I trust Jeno. There’s no reason for him to make all of that up.” Jaemin has a point. You don’t know who this ‘Jeno’ is, but there really would be no use in making this up.

“You’re not making this up, are you?” You ask Jaemin. It’s still seriously hard to believe that all of this information was plausible. It’s as if Renjun, who you always viewed in a bad light, was now picked up and dropped under a new light. One in which you couldn’t even pinpoint if it were good or bad. Curiosity was getting ahead of you and you didn’t like it.

He shakes his head, “Why would I? Ask Renjun if you really don’t believe me.”

“No thanks…” You shake your head, “There’s no way I’m going to ask him about anything. Especially not that.”

“Suit yourself,” Jaemin pulls his laptop back to its previous position, “Anyways, I need to get back to writing this paper.”

With Yeji turning back to her own work, you’re left alone with your thoughts and the newfound idea of Renjun actually being… nice. It coincided with your earlier idea of Renjun repping a smile instead of the seemingly permanent scowl on his face. No, you weren’t suddenly switching up with how you felt with Renjun because, despite the fact that there is this huge possibility that he spends his free time doing generous deeds, it didn’t automatically dismiss the way he’s been treating you. You guess it was just nice knowing that this sort of mini-hell you’ve been going through because of Renjun can finally be put to a stop.

°•. ✿ .•°

“For Renjun?”

Renjun looks up from his phone before making his way to the counter. He quickly stuffs his phone into his pocket and grabs the drink he’s been craving for the past few days, “Thank you.”

“Have good one!”

“You as well.”

Renjun makes his way out of the cafe, cold drink in hand. At the back of his head, he wonders where Donghyuck is, because according to the time, his class should have been finished ten minutes ago and he still hasn’t texted. That wasn’t like Donghyuck at all. Usually, he would be bombarding the boy with spam texts asking where he was even though he already knew where Renjun would be waiting.

Even with that thought, Renjun shrugs it off, knowing that Donghyuck would find his way to him somehow. He decides to sit down at a nearby table, placing his bag on the chair next to him before fishing his phone back out of his pocket.

As Renjun finally decides to take a sip out of his drink, his mind frustratingly wanders back to that one shift when you’d bought him the drink without his knowledge. He still doesn’t know how you managed to get him his usual, especially since he’s aware he’s never told you it.

He rakes through the depths of his brain to recall when you could have seen him with the drink. The one time you bumped into each other at this Starbucks, it was Donghyuck’s drink he was getting, so there was no way you saw it there. The one or two interactions after that, he doesn’t remember having a drink in hand.

Then he remembers. The day before the first shift.

How the hell could you have remembered that? Were you that attentive?

Why am I thinking so hard about a damn drink?

Maybe it was because the stupid drink was the reason why Renjun’s been feeling a pang of guilt everytime he’s with you. It took that one small random act of kindness to draw Renjun’s attention to the fact he was the one who often started the arguments and bickering between the two of you and you simply just returned his attitude.

“Hey!” Suddenly, a body leaps out from behind him, almost weighing both Renjun and the other person down. It takes a moment for Renjun to realize who it was. He doesn’t even need to turn around to look. In fact, he’s not even startled by what Donghyuck had hoped was a jumpscare.

“What’s up?” Renjun questions, “What took you so long?”

Donghyuck shrugs and plops into the chair in front of Renjun, “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Renjun retorts. He takes another sip out of his drink and tries to act it off.

Donghyuck shakes his head, “You’re thinking about something. I know because your eye is twitching.” He brings his finger way too close to Renjun’s eye, “I can see it. Now you have to tell me.”

Renjun gives Donghyuck a look before glancing back down at the iced matcha latte sitting right in front of him. Sure, Donghyuck knows of you, but he doesn’t know of the interactions between the two of you. Renjun just doesn’t see the importance of telling Donghyuck these things. But maybe telling someone will get Renjun’s gears turning.

So Renjun tells Donghyuck. From the coffee encounters, to the gig, the rough drafts, the drink, and painting. He makes sure not to miss a detail, trying to avoid sounding biased. He wants to know what Donghyuck’s going to say about this situation and he knows that sounding biased wouldn’t grant answers that fit with the situation.

“It’s the fact that she still found the will to do something nice for me even though I’ve been a literal ass to her,” Renjun taps his index finger against the lid of his drink, “It’s not even that big of a deal but it’s been bugging me.”

Donghyuck sits in silence for a few moments, trying to muster up the perfect thing to tell his friend. “I really don’t know what else to tell you except that you’re stubborn as hell.”

Renjun’s taken aback, “What?”

“Sure, she probably felt bad for making you do the grid thingy on your own, but you’re right. You have been an ass,” Donghyuck bluntly continues.

“So everything that’s lead up until now… it’s my fault?”

“Well, not completely,” Donghyuck points out, “Both of you guys seem to want to spite each other. Plus, you both seem really stubborn, which, adding both of those together, equals a shit show. But, if I were being honest, you started the whole hating each other thing. I feel like if you were nice to her, then she’d be even nicer to you. A bigger person move would be to apologize and be nice.”

It’s once in a blue moon that Donghyuck’s words made sense. Renjun thinks it through—if he were to apologize, or start being nice to you, how would you even react? Wouldn’t it be odd for him to just switch up like that?

Renjun sighs. He feels like ripping his hair out. Maybe he won’t apologize just yet, not when his feelings are foggy. And maybe he won’t actively do nice things, only until he finally senses you wouldn’t react weirdly. He’ll just stop trying to spite you.

“You’re right,” Renjun nods. Donghyuck grins proudly at his friend.

Maybe that’ll do it.

At least he hopes it will.

SIX.

Painting day… five? Six? You’ve lost count if you were being entirely honest.

But it’s not that it mattered.

What mattered was the extremely ironic fact that you had somehow forgotten your earphones at your bedside table when you made it your number one priority on days like these in order to avoid any sort of conversation (or argument) with Renjun. But then again, there was probably a reason why the world had the audacity to pull such a thing.

Since that day at the library, you had not been able to kick the thought of Renjun doing angelic things during his free time when he’s literally been the human embodiment of bird poop on a windshield to you. The curious part of you was itching to ask him about it, see if the way he spoke about it would bring out that hidden angel in him. But when you continue to think about it, you weren’t sure if you would be overstepping some type of imaginary boundary that the both of you had mutually set up. Was there even a right time to ask him about it all? You can’t imagine a time where you and Renjun would even be close enough to have a conversation with the topic. Even now, just physically, Renjun still chooses to paint near the other end of the mural.

Well, as far as progress took him.

“You know if you painted as much as you’ve been staring at me, we’d be done this mural.” Renjun’s voice knocks you back into reality and it’s only then that you realize that you’re blatantly looking at him.

Feeling a rush of heat run through your cheeks, you look away, “Sorry.” You quickly look away and try to make yourself busy with the area you were painting at, brushing the paintbrush despite already having painted that part.

“There’s no paint on your brush,” Renjun points out. He wants to laugh but he tells himself not to because it isn’t ‘on brand.’ Pshh… as if that mattered… but it did to him.

“Oh… oh right,” you laugh awkwardly and dip the paint into the closest colour, bringing it up with no thought.

“And that’s the wrong colour,” Renjun points out again.

You look over at the mural and see that you’ve painted an entirely different colour on top of another colour. You gasp and put the brush down, “I’ll just… repaint it.”

There’s silence as you hurry to clean your brush, using a dirty rag to wipe off the wrong paint so that the remaining remnants of it can dry out quicker. You don’t notice Renjun side-eyeing you, contemplating whether he should say something about the constant mistakes you just made. But then he remembers what Donghyuck told him.

“Are you okay?”

You’re thrown off from the words that just left Renjun’s mouth. You almost snap your neck when you turn to look at him, eyes wide, “Huh?”

He isn’t looking at you, instead keeping his attention steady on what he’s painting, “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

He’s an empath too? Wait, is that even how an empath is?

“Anyone can see you’re thinking about something.”

And a mind reader?

You are very much close to panicking, blinking at Renjun with no words to say. You’re contemplating whether this was the right time to tell Renjun what you know about him and ask him about it. “It’s nothing, it’s just…”

Renjun turns to look at you for half a second, then turns back to the wall. It’s like he was prompting you to say whatever you were wanting to say.

“I was just curious,” You start, “I heard that you volunteered at the retirement home near campus?” There was no other way to put it. You hope that you don’t sound creepy, as if you’ve been stalking him recently.

“Hmm?” This gets Renjun hooked, “Where did you hear that?”

“Jaemin told me.”

“Ah~ Jeno’s friend,” Renjun replies. Although the conversation has, so far, been awkward, you subconsciously knew it was an improvement from the bickering you both did. It was more civil, and you were actually glad it's taken a turn towards that direction. “What about it?” Renjun holds back the attitude that otherwise would have been evident if he weren’t trying to be nice to you.

You shrug and tighten your lips toward one side of your face, “Like I said. I was just curious.”

Renjun tries not to take anything of what you said, turning back to his painting.

Then you quickly add, “Do you have–uh–any stories?”

Renjun looks at you again and he can feel his interest in this conversation rising. He’s had many stories that he wants to share with his friends, but when he does share them, he’s left with the realization that no one’s listening. “I have a few actually.”

“Can I hear one?” You asked, “Sorry…. I have a soft spot for the elderly… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Renjun shakes his head, “I’d love to, actually.” You begin to paint once again, this time properly, while you wait for Renjun to begin his story.

“My favourite story since I’ve started volunteering at the retirement home is probably when someone had the genius idea to play hide ‘n seek with the active elders.” Renjun snorts at the memory. A small smile rises up onto his face, but you don’t notice. He continues, “I was the seeker, which wasn’t a good idea since I was new and I wasn’t really familiar with any of the residents there, but I thought it would fun, so I still agreed.

I counted to fifty, and there were rules where they were allowed to go and everything. Just on the main floor, and I remember the activities director made it clear that they were only allowed on the first floor. So when I went to look for them, I found all of them pretty quickly, except one.”

“Don’t tell me he… you know…”

“No he didn’t die!” Renjun gives you a look, “Why in the world would that be my favourite story?”

You shrug, “I mean, you seem like the kind of person to.”

Renjun lets this comment slide and continues, “I looked for him for almost an entire hour. One entire hour. It got to the point where a lot of the other volunteers dropped what they were doing and helped out. I was actually panicking because where else could an old man be in a building that wasn’t too big. Then the phone rang and the desk lady answered it, all she heard was snickering and I knew right then and there that it was that man. He was playing us.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly, “Wait, so where was he?”

“We gave up looking. We knew he’d come out sooner or later. It was just enough for us that he was alive,” Renjun retorts, “RIght before my shift ended, the same man walks in through the door with a whole box of beer in one hand and ice cream in the other.” Renjun’s laughing now and the sound takes you by surprise. It was probably the first time you’re hearing him laugh.

You begin laughing along, “That sounds straight out of a movie! How the hell did he get out unnoticed?”

Renjun shrugs, “Beats me. But I like to think that as my favourite story because he fooled us all. And no one knows what he did in those hours he was gone.”

“I get why it’s your favourite.” You can tell just by the way Renjun told his story that he enjoyed these things. You’d think that, because the old man caused so much chaos, he would not deem that as his favourite moment, but you were wrong.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Then a close second would be the times they ask me to sing them their favourite songs. You can really see how playing something as simple as here comes the sun affects their day.”

It didn’t occur to you, at first, that Renjun just indirectly told you that he can sing—though you weren’t sure if he was good or not—but you were still dumbfounded, “You sing?”

“Sometimes,” he hums, “But it’s really nothing. Old people are impressed by anything.” Renjun puts the paintbrush down and flicks his wrist up to check the time, “Anyways, time’s almost up. We should start cleaning up.”

And you both do. You both go through your usual cleaning routine before dragging all everything back into the daycare’s small closet. Once you were both were ready to leave, you go your separate ways, saying goodbye each other with small, subtle waves.

And you know what was funny about all of this?

For the first time ever since you both met, there was zero negative intent behind any of your guys’ thoughts and actions.

SEVEN.

One new thing that you’ve learned from Renjun was that he was a pretty good storyteller, and alongside that, he had lots of stories to tell.

Wait that’s two things.

Nevermind that… The last two shifts of painting were pleasingly occupied with Renjun going on and on about his experiences at his volunteering opportunities. He jumped from talking about dogs giving birth to dressing up as an elf for an event at the children’s hospital—it’s like he’s lived so many lives in one.

A small part of you was jealous of the fact that he was able to experience all of this in such a small amount of time, but hearing these stories through him made up for that pint of jealousy. After one of his stories, Renjun had stopped what he was doing and turned to you, “Do you have any stories?”

You were slightly taken aback by the question, “Me?” It was a genuine question.

He nodded before putting down some strokes of paint, “Yeah. Do you have any stories?” There’s a tone in his voice that told you that he was being serious. He wasn’t being the Renjun that you’ve grown to know the past few weeks—but then again, maybe that Renjun wasn’t who Renjun really was.

“Not really,” you replied, “But don’t worry about me.”

“It doesn’t need to be like my stories,” he pointed out, “Just a story.” Renjun gave you time to think of a story, providing some prompts for you so that you were able to come up with one on the spot.

“How about a time when you thought you were actually done for?”

At that, you feel a memory surface from your first year of university when you, Yeji, and Jaemin were caught underage drinking in Jaemin’s dorm by the RA, so you told him the story. How you all were completely drained from your first set of midterms and how drugs weren’t the best resort. So why not drink? You remember Jaemin had gotten a bottle or two of soju from his friend from a frat and he’s been keeping it for ‘times like these.’ In the middle of the small binge, someone knocked on the door, and you remember Jaemin saying he was expecting somebody and was stupid enough to not actually look out the peephole before opening the door.

“And guess who it was?” you questioned.

“Ummm,” Renjun lined one of the pictures, “His friend?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It was an RA. Out of all the people. It really had to be an RA. We were caught and he threatened to tell a higher-up, I’m not sure who.” Though it wasn’t that much of a problem, you remember your seventeen-year-old self feeling fear that was probably harnessed from tens of people. You were scared—no—you were horrified. It hadn’t even been two full months into the semester and you’re already in trouble.. “You should’ve seen how me and Yeji were begging for forgiveness. It was probably the deepest bow I’ve ever bowed.”

“What happened, then?”

“Right in the middle of our apologies, the RA and Jaemin started laughing like maniacs,” you recalled, “Yeji and I looked up and they were laughing at us.” You click your tongue against your teeth, “That motherfucker Jaemin pranked us. The RA wasn’t an actual RA.”

Renjun bursted out into laughter, “Are you serious?”

You brought yourself to laugh, “Yes. I was so close to ending my friendship with Jaemin. But he treated us to food the next week so… It’s kind of a stupid story but I can still remember how I felt when it happened.”

“No, I get it,” Renjun replies. He stands back from the mural to look at you, “Especially knowing how seriously they act on underage drinking, that must’ve been scary.”

“Yeah, I think that’s mainly why Yeji and I were freaking out,” you nod. Realizing that you’ve finally finished the section you’ve been working on for the afternoon, you put the paintbrush down and pick up a rag.

“Are you done for today?” Renjun questions. You look over at him and he’s still putting down strokes of paints, “What time is it?”

You’re still trying to get used to you and Renjun getting along despite it being a good two weeks since you both had chosen to become civil with each other. But at the same time, it felt like weight was being taken off of your shoulders. It wasn’t like Renjun was a burden, but every time you had a shift at the daycare, you never really had the motivation to go because of him.

But it was different now.

“There’s still like fifteen minutes before shift ends,” you say, glancing at your phone, “Wanna start cleaning?”

Renjun nods, “Let me just finish this and I’ll be right behind you.”

°•. ✿ .•°

“Afternoon, Joy,” Renjun enters the daycare with a gentle smile, “How’s your day been?”

Joy grins from behind her computer, “Great, I guess. Yours?”

“Not bad.” Joy nods in response, “I’m sorry, I should have said this sooner, but today’s shift has been moved last minute.” She moves her rolling chair to the side so that she’s able to give Renjun all her attention.

Renjun frowns, “Why’s that?” He’s not sure if he could even think of a reason why a shift could be cancelled and moved, “Have you told Y/N?”

“Forecast says there’s going to be heavy rain today, so I think it would be better not to put new paint on the mural in case it gets washed off easily,” Joy states. At the end of her explanation, you enter the building with a quick greeting, situating yourself next to Renjun.

“But isn’t the rain for tonight? That seems to be enough for the paint to dry.”

“What’s going on?” You asked obliviously.

Renjun nods, “Our shift’s cancelled for today because of the rain.”

“Yes, but it’s better safe than sorry,” Joy sighs, “But you guys can go and have a rest day for today. I’ll see you both in a few days!”

Without another word, Joy swings herself back to her computer and you and Renjun leave the building slightly confused. The sky looked perfectly normal on the way here. The air was still. There was no sign of a storm happening tonight. But Joy’s statements were confirmed when you pulled out your handy-dandy cellphone and tapped at the weather app.

“She’s right,” you hold the phone for Renjun to look and he simply nods, “I guess I’ll see you next shift?” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you wait for Renjun’s response. He nods.

“Yeah, I will.” Then you and Renjun begin walking down the same direction. You both hesitate before taking another step, giving each other a look. “Where are you going?”

“My dorm room.” “Oh, me too,” Renjun laughs awkwardly, “Uh… wanna walk together then?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you joke as you begin walking. Renjun follows shortly, keeping a good distance between you both. He chooses to walk your pace, keeping his eyes trained on the pavement in front of him. Although he feels like it should be awkward, there’s a comfortable silence between the both of you.

It’s when the air starts feeling more humid than earlier that Renjun notices that it has started raining. At first, he didn’t mind it. The way the rain fell onto his head softly tickled him, but he liked it. It felt like soft kisses, if that even made sense. He looks over at you and he notices that you’re not bothered by the rain either.

“It’s like Joy has superpowers,” you say, “One second, the sky’s blue, now it’s raining.” You only hope that the rain doesn’t get worse than now. Your dorm room is still a bit of a walk away and you’re not in the mood to get drenched.

Renjun nods, “Next thing we know, it’s pouring.”

And as if someone had snapped their fingers, the rain gets heavier, pelting you and Renjun from above. The raindrops completely contrast how they just were, thick and feeling like punches instead of the shower of kisses. You gasp and slip your bag off, bringing it into your arms to protect your expensive belongings inside.

“What the hell!?” You say over the loud pitter patters of the droplets. You don’t know why you’re frozen in place. Perhaps it was the rush of cold water washing over you.

Renjun thinks differently, opting to make a break for it. He glances over at you in near panic, noticing immediately that you’re not moving at all. Then, without thinking, Renjun takes no longer than a second to pull you along with him, sprinting down the narrowing pathway as it leads to the nearest building. He swings the door open, careful not to hit you in the process. When he takes out a key identical to yours, you realize then that this was his dorm building, “I think you should stay in my dorm while you wait it out. You might get sick.” You hesitate and think this situation through. Going to Renjun’s dorm? Were you even that close? What if–

“If you’re thinking about what I think you’re thinking, no I’m not,” Renjun grumbles, “Let’s go.” He waves you in and you’re led to impulsively deciding that, yes, you will accept his offer. And it’s mostly because you don’t want to be drenched in the rain, nor do you want to stand in this hot vestibule for however long the rain will last.

“I hope the dorm isn’t messy, but it’s mostly my roommate who’s messy.” It sounds like Renjun’s speaking to himself but you know he’s trying to warn you. He’s walking a few strides in front of you, looking back subtly to make sure you’re actually following him down the hall.

Soon, you find yourself walking through Renjun’s front door, greeted with a waft of some kind of candle scent. You can’t really pinpoint the smell to its exact fragrance, but you can describe it as homey–something warm and welcoming.

“Lonjoon!” A voice exclaims from the small couch, “You’re ho– oh, hello?”

You recognize the boy who stands up from the couch as Donghyuck, both from the times you’ve encountered Renjun and from Jaemin. You wave awkwardly, “Sorry for intruding.”

Renjun speaks up, “Y/N’s dorm building is by the edge of campus and it’s pouring outside. I offered for her to stay here while we wait for it to stop.”

“I don’t mind,” Donghyuck grins, “Hmm, so you’re Y/N? I’ve heard a bunch of things about you from Renjun! I’m Donghyuck.”

Your brow cocks and you give Renjun, who’s sliding his shoes off and fixing them to the side, a look before turning back to Donghyuck, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he says, “You’re just as pretty as Renjun sa–”

Renjun throws his damp hoodie at Donghyuck’s face with the goal of shutting him up, “How about you go to your room and we take the living room?” Renjun approaches his best friend, holding him by his shoulders before pushing him in the direction of one of the rooms. It’s funny simply because he doesn’t even wait for him to reply.

Once he has gotten rid of Donghyuck, Renjun turns on his toes to face you, “Sorry, that’s just how he is… don’t listen to him, he makes stuff up all the time.” And although Renjun’s actually telling the truth—because no, he’s never called you pretty in front Donghyuck—he knows Donghyuck’s comments are believable to those who aren’t used to his shenanigans.

There were two ways you could go about it. Ignore him and make the situation less awkward, or tease him and see what he says. Either choice would be funny, especially because you could see that this boy is on edge with what his friend just said. But since you’re feeling nice, you choose the former option, “So, what do you plan on doing while we wait for the rain?”

Renjun quietly sighs in relief, “We can put something on to watch? I’m just not sure what we should watch though.” He makes his way to the couch and he gestures you to sit in the spot next to him.

It’s crazy how your mind works in times like these. At the back of your head, you almost make sure to keep an array of movies to watch, ones that you’re sure everyone would be content with. But with Renjun, one movie hovers above the others because you could still recall your astonishment when this whole adult man hadn’t seen the one movie you adore with your heart.

“How about the Pursuit of Happyness?” you say, “You haven’t seen it… so why not now?”

Renjun nods, “Yeah, sure. That sounds good to me.” Within a few clicks of the remote, the movie begins and Renjun’s offering you some snacks he managed to pull from the kitchen (or that have already been there, courtesy of Donghyuck). The rain outside is still going at it, but the movie masks the sound of the raindrops striking repeatedly against the windows.

Renjun’s incredibly entangled in the film. You can easily catch this in the way his eyes were steady on the screen as he leans towards it. He mutters comments every now and then, ones that complement your own thoughts of the film.

“It’s… it’s just going downhill,” Renjun frowns. His eyes finally leave the screen about half way through the movie, “I can’t believe you’re making me watch this. If it has a bad ending, I’m holding you against the emotional damage I’ll be experiencing.”

“I mean you did agree to watch it,” you point out. Biting your lip, you hold a laugh back despite the movie not even being comedic. It’s Renjun and his current state that’s making you laugh. It’s new territory for you, if that was even the right way to describe it.

So far, you’ve only met the stubborn and spiteful Renjun, and most recently, the generous and compassionate Renjun. His actual character, you’ve learned, sits in the middle of both of those. But the one you’re watching this movie with was different. He was vulnerable, ready to cry whenever the movie finally pushes past his breaking point. But you’re glad to see that he isn’t afraid to show it to you, especially since you both were still just starting this odd friendship.

“What the fuck. I can’t do this shit. What the hell?” You snap out of your mini trance and you realize why a string of profanities are leaving Renjun’s mouth. It was the very scene that had you bawling like a baby the first time you watched it, and tearing up now. The scene at the subway station.

You let Renjun watch it, keeping silent as you pay attention to the screen, too. You could feel your heart ache, the scene grasping it, as your mouth grew into a frown.

In a hushed tone, Renjun questions out loud, “Please tell me that this is the worst it gets?” Looking over at Renjun, you notice that he’s actually crying. There were tears streaming down his face and he’s sniffling like he’s caught the annual flu.

“I don’t want to spoil it,” you retort, sniffling yourself. Looking around, you spot a tissue box sitting at the centre of the coffee table in front of both of you. You reach for it, holding it out to Renjun.

“Thanks,” he sniffles. Once Renjun’s finished blowing his nose, he falls silent again, attention all on the movie. He’s so attentive that you know thoughts are running through his head at an unreadable pace.

Next thing you know, the movie’s end credits are rolling and Renjun flops into the couch’s cushion, “I get why you were surprised when I said I haven’t seen that movie.” He turns his head to face you, “Because that was a good movie.”

The way Renjun’s looking at you causes you to shrink under his gaze, though it wasn’t in a way where you were cowering. You felt… shy? There wasn’t a word that was coming up that described it precisely, but shy was alarmingly close. “I’m glad you liked it.” He stretches his lips into some form of lazy grin. There’s a very brief silence between you both but it was enough for you to recognize that the rain had stopped, or at least, it had gotten weaker over the past few hours.

“Oh the rain’s stopped,” you say quickly, “I guess I’ll get going then.” Within seconds, you’re up and grabbing your belongings. Then, you’re at the door, slipping your sneakers on thoughtlessly. At that point, you’re aware that it’s almost dinner time and the sun’s probably setting if you could see past the clouds.

Renjun follows you to the door, “It looks dark out, do you want me to walk with you?”

If your life were a reality TV show, this would be when the camera unsteadily zooms into your face as it simultaneously changes expressions into one that’s a mix of confusion and shock. “No, it’s fine, there’s probably some people walking from class.” The door’s open behind you and you’re ready to sprint out. But Renjun stops you.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he grins, “I’ll see you around.”

“Goodnight, Renjun.”

Renjun waves and shuts the door. He lets out a huff before turning around to find Donghyuck standing there with the most irritating smirk sitting on his face.

“What?”

Donghyuck gasps, “Nothing!”

Renjun pushes past him to turn the TV off before going to fold the blanket he was previously using, “Then don’t make that face if you don’t have a reason.”

Donghyuck snickers and shakes his head in a way that only irked Renjun even more. He chooses not to say anything else because he knows that Renjun’s mind works fast enough to work two and two together.

That’s how it usually works, at least.

EIGHT.

Routines are meant to be routines.

Every shift you and Renjun were supposed to arrive, bring the supplies you needed to the wall, paint, realize that it’s time to clean up, and then leave. While you both painted, Renjun’s role was to tell one of his many experiences and your usual role was to listen. If not, comfortable silence or music will often fill that silence.

But today was different.

You and Renjun were finally painting the second layer of the mural, and although it initially wasn’t necessary, the second layer of paint gave the painting a bolder look. So you both went for it.

The day was going as it usually would. Renjun had finished a more recent story from the old folks’ home, going on about how he’s excited for Thursday. “Throwback Thursday. We play music and shows and films from their times. Even if they already do that anyway, it’s a bit more special because practically all the residents attend.”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun,” you say genuinely, “I can’t imagine the nostalgia they go through.” You squat down and dip the paintbrush into the paint.

“How about you come with me, then?” Renjun offers, “Are you busy on Thursday?” He stands and waits for your reply, watching as you freeze suddenly at his question. You only freeze because this isn’t how it usually was. He’s supposed to say something like ‘it is fun’ or go on to tell you a story about a previous throwback Thursday. But asking you to come with him?

“Me?” You verbalize, “Come with you?”

“Yeah!” Renjun nods, “They love getting all the help they can get.” He carelessly strokes the brush against the wall and watches as the concrete completely disappears underneath the paint. “And it would be cool for you to be there. That way we can share one of these stories.”

“Um…” You don’t like using agendas, but right now would have been the right time to have one. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ll let you know before then, though. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Day of is fine, too.”

The minute you get home, you feel a strong urge to tell Yeji about the invitation. But knowing Yeji, you know damn well she’s going to convince you to go.

You guess correctly when she peeks over her laptop and over at you after you’re brief ramble about it. “Didn’t you say that you and Renjun were on better terms now?” You nodded. “Well, I think there wouldn’t be any harm in going. Imagine how horrible you’d look if you rejected that opportunity.”

“Renjun would understand,” you say quietly.

“Well, do you want to go?” Yeji questioned.

You blink at your best friend, “It’s not that I don’t want to go. It’s just…” You pause and try to think about why you’re stressing about something that wasn’t even that big of a deal. Renjun literally just invited you to volunteer. It’s not like he asked you on a date (and why would he?). It was just the idea of him actually asking you to spend time with him outside of that gig that made you stop and think.

“There’s your answer.”

“Huh?” your head tilts to the side, “Answer? Where?”

Yeji snorts and turns her attention back to her laptop, “You just said ‘it’s not that I don’t want to go.’ That implies that you do wanna go. Then go.”

With a little bit more pushing from Yeji, you find yourself standing in front of Renjun’s dorm building that very Thursday with a tote bag and your head filled with thoughts that you couldn’t even comprehend. If you focused hard enough, you could pick out ones about what today’s dinner will be, how the residents were like outside of Renjun’s stories, and what the retirement home looked like. There were traces of what remaining tasks you needed done for the mural and if you’ve somehow left assignments unfinished. Then there were ones of Renjun and–

“Sorry for making you wait.” You jump and find Renjun appear in your field of vision. He’s fixing his crossbody bag over his shoulder, then you watch has he fixes the cap on his head, “I’m excited! Let’s go then?”

You and Renjun make small talk on the way to the retirement, which you admit, thought would be further away. But when Renjun told you that it was just a walking distance from campus, he wasn’t lying. The walk only lasted about ten minutes and the next thing you know, you’re telling the lady at the front desk your name.

“Alright, here’s your volunteer badge,” she slides you a laminated tag, “And here’s yours, Renjun!” You follow Renjun, who pins his own name tag to the left side of his chest. He pats it before saying goodbye to the lady, turning to you to see if you were set to go in.

Renjun leads the way into the main lounge area. It was a rather large room, one wall being entirely windows. By the front, or what you believed was the front, was a big fireplace, and by that fireplace, a small grand piano. On top of the fireplace was a big TV that was currently playing the news, not that anyone was paying attention.

Scattered throughout the room sat tables and padded chairs, some of which were occupied by residents. It was almost exactly how you imagined it, almost book-like, or ones you’d see in movies. It was cozy, yet not too cozy for it to be suffocating.

“Oh, Renjun, you’re here!” A slightly older guy seems to appear from the side, waving, “And you must be Y/N? Renjun told us you might be joining. Nice to see you actually did!” He sticks a hand out and grins, “I’m Taeyong. I coordinate a majority of the activities for the facility.”

You shake his hand, “Nice to meet you, Taeyong. I’m a little nervous.”

Taeyong shakes his head, “Don’t be! Everyone’s pretty nice here, especially in the afternoon.” He lets out a quiet laugh, “Well anyways, we just called down the other residents so we’re just waiting for them to come. Then we start exactly at five.”

Taeyong turns to Renjun, “You’re taking over for music right?” Renjun nods and cracks his fingers as if he’s about to go step into a boxing ring.

“I usually take the role as emcee, but I was told I had other duties to go about for the next hour,” Taeyong says carefully, “Y/N, would you mind being the emcee? I promise you it’s not that bad. I even have cue cards if you need it.” Taeyong holds out a small pile of flashcards, holding them out to you.

Renjun lights up at the idea, “It would be fun if you did it! All you have to do is prompt the songs and the residents will raise their hands. Then you go up to them and hold up the mic to their mouths for their answer. Sorta like a game show host.”

“I guess I can try,” you say carefully. What was the worse that could happen?

“Great!” Taeyong claps his hands together, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I appreciate it!” He hands you the cue cards and goes to leave, “Have fun guys!”

Once Taeyong was gone, Renjun turns to you, “I know it’s a heavy job but don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone. I promise you, the old folks have gone through a lot, so slip-ups won’t matter to them at all.”

You nodded, “I hope so. You better help me up there if something goes wrong.” You give him a look of warning, though it was playful and meant well. Renjun knew how Throwback Thursdays worked—this was your first one—so you don’t really have a feel of how it should be brought out.

“I will, don’t worry,” Renjun ensures, “How bout this. I’ll do the introduction and then you go from there. That way, you’re not super lost.”

“That would help,” you grin.

Soon, little by little, the residents begin filling the room, taking seats at what you understood as their usual seats. They chattered amongst themselves, having conversations that mostly consisted of today’s weather or the news that was playing on the TV. From a nearby table, you overhear two ladies lightheartedly trash-talking each other, arguing over who would get the most correct songs for this week’s Throwback Thursday.

You can’t help but laugh at the bickering. Renjun notices this and smiles to himself. He’s glad you’re enjoying it so far. “There’s a leaderboard, if you’re wondering why they’re so serious about this,” Renjun points out, “Well not really an official one, but they keep track of it themselves. I don’t even know how but they do.”

“That explains it,” you laugh, “I think it’s cute.”

Renjun nods, “It is. They remind me of kids sometimes. They get happy over the smallest things. I admire it.”

This comment makes your heart do a ball change—two quick beats before settling back into its normal rhythm. It was just endearing seeing Renjun be all soft around what he loves doing. It only hits much harder when this wasn’t the Renjun you initially knew.

First impressions were not always the best impressions.

“I think we can start with the intro,” Renjun nudges your elbow. He starts making his way to the front of the room. You trail right behind him, respectfully greeting the residents as you make eye contact with them. They obviously weren’t familiar with you, but they still smiled nonetheless.

Renjun grabs the mic, turning it on before giving it a light tap to test it, “Good afternoon everyone! Can you all hear me?” You see some of the residents nod, others verbally responding with the loudest whoop they can let out. “Perfect! How’s everyone doing this afternoon?” There’s a chorus of different answers, but you can tell that they all were content with their day.

“I’m happy to hear that! Welcome to this week’s Throwback Thursday! I think you’re all familiar with me, my name is Renjun!” Renjun turns to you, and gestures, “Today, I have my partner Y/N with me to help out! Can we give her a warm welcome?” Similar to earlier, they enter a chorus of replies, greeting you with waves and smiles. This made you feel much more comfortable.

“Okay! So you know how all this works, I play a song on the piano, and if you know it, raise your hand. I’ll trust Y/N’s judgment on who raised their hands first. She’ll come up to you all and then you can give her the answer! Everything clear?” Again, a chorus of replies. “Then let’s begin!”

Renjun hands the mic over to you, whispering a ‘have fun’ and a ‘you got this’ before sitting down behind the piano.

You look down at the cue cards given to you by Taeyong and find that it was the list of songs that Renjun was going to play for the night. There were about twenty songs listed down along with the artist. You felt a sense of relief wash over you.

“Hello everyone! Are you all ready for the first song?” you question. You still feel a bit nervous, but from how Renjun went through with the intro, you knew exactly how you want to host. The residents cheered and you can feel the anticipation. It was nice that they were all willing to participate. “Okay, this one is really easy, so get your hands ready! Renjun, cue the music!”

Renjun smiles and nods, placing his hands on the keys for the first song. He begins playing it effortlessly and you’re a bit taken aback by the way he was playing the song well—it was My Girl by The Temptations. Renjun had only played the intro when hands were already shooting up. Your eyes naturally fall on a man seated near the windows, glasses slipping to the tip of his nose.

You grin and quickly make your way over, “I believe you had your hand up first!” Your eyes find a last name on his walker, “Mr. Moon. What’s your answer?”

You bring the mic up near his lips and nod for him to answer. Before he speaks, he leans forward, “It is My Girl by The Temptations.”

Although you already knew the answer, you still look down at the flash cards, “My, my, my…” You pretend that the answer is wrong, frowning and letting your voice trail before switching up, “My Girl by The Temptations is correct! One point for Mr. Moon!”

You hear some of the other residents chuckle at your improvisation, clapping out of joy. You don’t notice as you walk back to the front, but Renjun’s smile grows wider.

“Next song!” You read it, and hum, “This one’s a few decades newer, but I know you all will know this one!” You turn to Renjun, quietly signalling for him to begin the song. You watch the residents as they wait for Renjun to start the song’s snippet. Again he plays the intro, an easy-to-recognize sequence bouncing across the room.

A different man raises his hand first, so you move across the room swiftly. This man doesn’t have a nametag, “Do you know the answer, sir?”

“Of course I do, I remember going to their concert back in the day!” He speaks through the mic. The people around you react, eyes widening.

“Oh, so you should very well know it, right?” You question, “Were you a fan of them?”

“A big, big fan,” the man uses his hands to speak, throwing his arms to gesture something large, “Good ‘ol days. But anyways, the answer is Open Arms by Journey. One of my favourites.”

“I guess you already know that the answer is correct!” you laugh, “Can’t argue with a fan. One point for you, sir!” He nods his head in pride before you turn to walk back to the front. At this point, you’re gaining more confidence despite it barely even starting. In a way, the interactions came naturally.

“The next song is one that might not come to you all easily since it’s a bit newer, but I guarantee that at least one of you will know it,” you say through the mic.

Renjun begins with the intro, and you’re familiar with the song because you’ve heard your parents play it plenty of times in the car growing up. So far, none of the residents had brought their hands up to answer. You’re actually quite surprised to see that no one was familiar with the song’s intro.

Renjun continues to play the song.

Then he begins to sing.

You remember when he had first told you about his time here at the retirement home and how he sang for the residents. You remember him completely dismissing the fact that he did sing for these people and after that, the subject wasn’t really brought up.

Now that you’re here and volunteering with him, you finally get a chance to hear him sing.

“Oceans apart… day after day… and I slowly go insane…”

What the fuck.

You almost say this out loud and through the mic in front of many many elderly people and you suddenly feel compelled to slap yourself.

Renjun’s voice was unexpected, but it was beautiful. You really didn’t have any idea of how his singing voice would sound but now that you’re hearing it, it perfectly matched his speaking voice. It was satin-like and captivating—a voice you could and you’d honestly like to listen to all day.

“How can we say forever?”

Your eyes drift to Renjun, who’s focused. His eyes are on the music sheets sitting in front of him. The expression on his face is calm and gentle, words of which could also describe his singing. You hope Renjun doesn’t notice that you’re looking at him, because if he did, it would be humiliating.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you…”

Then your heart does this thing.

It was very similar to the little skip that it did earlier, but now, instead of falling back to the rhythm it usually followed, it only sped up in tempo.

What the fuck. You repeat to yourself. Your eyes widen before dropping to your feet in panic. Because it really shouldn’t be doing that. Not at this point in time.

“I raised my hand first!” One of the ladies knock you back into reality and you realize that a few people have had their hands raised. She was speaking to another woman sitting at the same table and you recognize them as the two women from earlier. You smile sheepishly, almost forgetting what your job is and opting to listen to Renjun and only Renjun for the rest of the game. You apologize, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite notice. Can we play a small game of rock, paper, scissors to settle this fairly?”

They play the game as you make your way up to them. Once it was settled, you bring the mic up to the winner, the lady who claimed she raised her hand first. “What do you think the song title is?”

“Oh, I know what the song title is,” she chuckled, “Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx.”

“I love the confidence!” You say, laughing, “You are correct! One point for you, ma’am!” The woman cheered, ecstatic she got the point. Then, like before, you return to the front and you start at the beginning of the cycle for the next songs.

You try your best to keep yourself together, especially when the song’s difficulty requires Renjun to sing part of it. He had a voice to be proud of. You have no idea why he didn’t choose to brag about it. But maybe that’s just Renjun.

What’s ironic was the fact that Renjun was almost as charmed by you as you were with him. However, it wasn’t because of the way you sang, because if you were ever asked to sing, you’d warn them about temporarily losing the sense of hearing, but it was simply through the way you interacted with the residents. The best word Renjun could find to describe the way you spoke to them was genuine.

You genuinely seemed to enjoy speaking to them, making small talk throughout the game so that you kept them entertained. Renjun also concluded that you were actually a pretty witty person. Jokes and fitting comments were flying out of your mouth whenever you pleased, giving the residents a reason to laugh hearty laughs.

Though it really didn’t appear to be that big of a deal to anyone else, Renjun found it endearing. It was simply just a trait that he found worthy of adoring.

Renjun slumps behind the piano relieved that the instrument was helping him hide the smile that was uncontrollably growing upon his lips. And if you see him with that big, fat, doting smile, he wouldn’t know what to do.

At the end of the game and its conclusion, you actually find yourself feeling bummed that it was over. You stand at the side of the room, watching as the residents either take their leave or decide to stay in the lounge room a bit longer. You bow to the ones who cross your path, thanking them for being great participants.

“Will you be back next week?” a lady stops to talk to you, “You were refreshing to have. That young boy, Taeyong, follows the same script and it does get very tedious after a while.”

“I would love to, actually,” you say, frowning, “But I’m not sure if I will. Renjun invited me to join but I don’t know if this is just a one-time thing.”

“Oh, well,” she smiles sadly, “If you ever decide to return, you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you mirror her expression before she walks away.

In her place, another lady stops and reaches for your hand, “Thank you for a wonderful time!”

You shake your head, “It’s nothing, really. Renjun played a large part as well, I shouldn’t take all the credit.” Over her shoulder you see Renjun speaking to a few of the male residents.

“Oh! Speaking of that lovely boy, are you two together?” Her head tilts to the side in curiosity, “You two make quite a cute couple!”

Her comment makes you freeze in shock for a short moment. You and Renjun? A couple?

“Oh!” you shake your head, almost to the point where you could feel your head coming loose from the rest of your body, “We’re not dating! It’s nothing like that. It’s really the opposite! We only started being friends not too long ago!”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she only picks up your last comment, “You ever go to connect a plug to a socket without looking?” You nod your head but she could tell that you’re confused. “You miss it a couple of times, making small adjustments so you can get that damn plug into the socket. Then, finally, right when you get it in, the electricity runs through it to serve its purpose.”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying, ma’am.”

“I’m saying that it doesn’t matter when you guys started ‘being friends,’” she laughs lightly, “If two pieces fit together, then that’s that. I know a match when I see one.”

And without another peep, the lady walks away, singing a tune under her breath.

NINE.

“Is this enough?” Renjun’s pouring paint into one of the paint trays at the bottom of the ladder.

You look down from the top of the ladder, “That looks like it, thank you.” You paint a few more strokes down before climbing back down to grab the newly filled tray. The goal for the day was to finish the second layer so that over the last few shifts, you and Renjun could focus on details and finishing touches. Judging by how much work was left, the two of you were probably going to end up working overtime. But none of you minded.

“You know, some of the residents were asking for you when I returned a few days ago?” Renjun watches as you pick up the tray. When your feet find their way onto the first step of the ladder, Renjun unconsciously steps forward to keep the ladder steady, “I think they really loved your company.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward at the recent memory of you and your interactions. Not one inch of his bone regretted inviting you.

“Really?” you light up, “I enjoyed their company, too.”

Renjun replies, “Yeah, really. I guess you made a really good impression on them.” Then Renjun makes a witty, lighthearted comment, “Unlike you did on me.”

You laugh and look down, “The feeling’s mutual.”

Out of interest, Renjun lets this burning question leave his lips, “Why did you hate me so much anyway?” Then he shakes his head, “I mean I understand why, but I wanna hear your side of the story.”

You take a seat on one of the middle stairs of the ladder and rest your head on your arm, “I guess… everytime we ran into each other, you weren’t exactly the nicest. I remember I apologized when I accidentally bumped into you that one morning before class and you made a comment about me not being able to afford your shirt or something even when I apologized.” “In fairness, it was before an eight AM and that shit was hot,” Renjun defends, “But you’re right. I could’ve handled it better.” He doesn’t even remember why he blew up that morning. But he does remember a feeling of remorse the moment he arrived in class and was able to reflect on what he just did.

“And that one time when I took Donghyucks’s drink,” you face palm because you don’t know how you even managed to do that, “You didn’t even say thank you when I gave you the drink when I could’ve taken it. Especially since it was you who had gone up to me.”

Renjun’s face heats up. He really was a whole douchebag to you. “I was in a hurry. But I could’ve handled that better, too.” Renjun pauses and drops his head to look at his feet, “I think my apologies are long overdue. But I really am sorry for both of those times. I don’t know… they were sorta both in the heat of the moment… but if I could go back, I’d treat you better. Maybe we could’ve gotten along faster.”

“You’re forgiven,” you reply seriously, swinging your legs, “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t made any progress.” You look up at the mural and remember how your relationship with Renjun had been when you both started it. It was almost the complete opposite. “I think I owe you an apology, too. It’s not like I’m completely innocent either.”

Renjun turns to go back to his spot, “You don’t even need to apologize. You were just treating me the way I was treating you.”

“Doesn’t make it okay,” you stand up and dip the paintbrush in paint.

“True, but still.” Renjun raises his head to look at you, “But I forgive you too. Even though I still don’t think you need to say sorry.”

You don’t say anything else. Instead, you playfully roll your eyes. Despite your reaction, you’re actually glad that you and Renjun were finally at that point where you could joke about about the past. Being able to openly share how you both felt, and just conversing about it proves that your relationship with him has shifted. It’s relieving.

“Hey Y/N?”

You look through the ladder and find Renjun staring up at you. His hair is falling back, fringe brushing past the corners of his eyes. He looks pretty. “Yeah?”

“It’s getting late,” he says, “Want to wrap up and get something to eat?”

You’re compelled to make a ‘like a date?’ comment, but you hold back. You and Renjun just made complete amends. You can’t be that bold just yet, “Sure. Where to?”

°•. ✿ .•°

A handful of bites and sips of pop later, you and Renjun are walking back from the closest fast-food restaurant from campus. The topic of conversation had been jumping from one to another, keeping the atmosphere comfortable and busy. Currently, it was about the pet peeves that came along with your roommates despite still loving them with all your heart.

“Sometimes,” Renjun sighs, “Donghyuck, he literally doesn’t wash the bottom of the cups cause he thinks that only water rinsing it is enough. He only scrubs the rim of the cup. Once, I was filling my cup with water and I see remnants of dried out coke floating from the bottom.”

You gasp and make a face, shaking your head, “That’s disgusting! Imagine if you didn’t see that. You’d just be ingesting dried coke.”

“He learned from that,” Renjun shrugs, “Cause even he experienced it. He always scrubs the bottom of the cups first now.”

“Good,” you retort, “Because I was going to tell you to remind me never to drink from a cup when I go over to your guys’ dorm.” Renjun laughs but he can’t help but interpret your comment in a way that could be considered overthinking. “For me, Yeji used to wash her clothes without putting them with like colours.”

“How is her wardrobe not fucked up?” Renjun sends you a look, “Especially her white clothing.”

You shrug, “Beats me. But that one time I caught her, I felt like her mom teaching her right from wrong. I have no idea how she’s never been told off in all her years of life.”

“I don’t know what’s worse, that, or Donghyuck’s old habit.” You shake your and head and look down. You wonder if Yeji had any pet peeves about you. What would they even be? You didn’t feel like you were doing anything pet-peeve-worthy. But then again, Yeji didn’t see anything wrong with mixing her clothing up.

When you see your dorm building growing in your field of vision, your eyes widen and you turn to Renjun, “We missed your building!” You stop in your tracks and try to do a one-eighty to go back to Renjun’s building. The two of you were so caught up in conversation that you missed it.

“No I did it on purpose,” Renjun shakes his head, “I wanted to walk you back.” A tickling sensation subtly appears and disappears in your stomach.

“You really didn’t have to!” you say shaking your hands as a way to deny his kind action, “The campus is safe anyways! I could have walked on my—”

“I know it is, but I wanted to,” he shrugs, “There’s a difference.” He’s right. There is a difference. Because it’s one thing to walk you home with some worry that you’d get into some form of accident, you know, to ensure your safety (which you understood as basic human decency), but it’s another to want to walk you home. Even with the knowledge that you’d be safe because there were other students probably walking the same way, he wanted to walk you home and it was probably because he wanted to spend more time with you.

You don’t know how to react to that implication.

He starts walking towards your building, hands stuffed into his sweater’s pockets. When he senses that you weren’t following, he turns back, “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” you sigh, “I zoned out.”

You speed up to reach his side, trying to process whether or not you were overthinking or not. Before you know it, you’re at the doors of your building and you’re fishing your keys out of your pocket, “Thanks for walking me here, I guess.”

“You guess?” Renjun laughs softly.

“I mean like, it was unexp–”

“I’m joking,” Renjun rolls his eyes playfully, “I wanted to.” There it is again.

“Anyways, I’ll head in now,” you say, avoiding any awkward silences, “Goodnight.”

He grins, and you swear you see his eyes twinkle, “Goodnight.”

When you reach your dorms, Yeji’s standing at the entry way, arms crossed with a smirk, “I saw Mr. Renjun drop you off… care to explain?”

“What are you even doing staring out the window?” you glare at her and kick your shoes off. Walking past her, you tug your bag off your arm and plop it beside the couch, “And explain what? He just wanted to drop me off.”

“Key word is ‘wanted’,” Yeji walks up to you and digs her index finger into your shoulder, “I’m getting this psychic-netic sense that he’s starting to harbour feelings for you.” You want to laugh because Renjun? Feelings? For you? It’s laugh worthy. “No way. We just made up.”

“Yeah, but you both were all chill before today,” she rolls her eyes, “He’s probably starting to like you like you like him.”

“What are you even talking about?” You’re ready to escape this conversation. Mentally, you’re in a position that runners take when they’re about to begin a race, but in front of Yeji, you’re stiff as a rock, grounded and eyes wide as you react to what she just said. “Nothing,” she shrugs, “You didn’t deny it though.” Yeji cackles and makes her own great escape, sprinting into her room before shutting the door.

When Renjun finally gets home, he’s greeted with a bear hug from his own roommate.

“I thought you died or something!” Donghyuck yells, “Why are you home so late?”

“I had dinner with Y/N and walked her home?” Renjun’s confused. He leans forward and notices tears in Donghyuck’s eyes. He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or feel bad because he’s never seen his best friend in such a state, “Are you actually crying? Look I’m sorry, I actually forgot to update you.”

“Yes! I’m crying,” Donghyuck glares at Renjun, “It’s not like I splashed my face with water or anything.” Donghyuck wipes his ‘tears’ away and ‘sniffles’, “If I knew you had a date, I wouldn’t have sobbed my eyes out waiting for you to get home.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Renjun hurriedly denies, “It was just a friendly dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Donghyuck waves off, “Friendly dinner my ass.”

“It was!” Renjun’s ready to jump Donghyuck, “We worked for a long time today and we also formally apologized to each other. It was fitting.”

“You know what?”

“No, I don’t know what.”

Donghuck clicks his tongue against his teeth, “You like her.”

“What even makes you say that?” There’s a bazillion things running through Renjun’s head, but none of those things were coming to a single conclusion that made sense with this conversation with Donghyuck.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “The past few days, when you walk through that door from the gig or just being with Y/N, you have this sickening—but cute?—I don’t know… love-struck? Charmed?—Whatever you’d call it—look on your face and it’s painfully obvious that you’re starting to have feelings for her.”

Renjun gulps. He’s at a loss of words only because he’s never heard or seen Hyuck say something so serious in his life, “You’re lying.”

“No. I’m not. I can’t believe you haven’t realized it yourself when you’re usually more emotionally intelligent than me.”

Stunned, Renjun thinks it through.

Sure the word ‘love-struck’ doesn’t really describe what he’s feeling for you, only because he knows it hasn’t gone that far. He thinks back to the day it suddenly rained, when you both watched The Pursuit of Happyness and he let himself be vulnerable in front of you. Then to the day at the retirement home and seeing your interactions with the older adults. Those few times you were too immersed in painting to comprehend what was happening around you… Hell, he even thinks back to the time you had gotten him that damn Starbucks drink despite how horrible he treated you that day.

What did all these days have in common? Sure, all these days involved you and him, and progression in the relationship between the two of you. But the thing that persisted was how his chest warmed up in a way that was almost entirely unfamiliar to him. Shit, it has happened so many times that it has become familiar.

Renjun sighs and he looks at Donghyuck with a defeated look, “I think you’re right.”

“About?”

Renjun gets deja vu. He remembers the conversation he had long ago with Donghyuck about his attitude towards you. Never would he have thought that it would get this far.

“My feelings for Y/N.”

TEN.

It was the final stretch. The mural needed no more than final details and cleaning up before it was finished. And after this, you and Renjun would be finished the project.

You’re excited to see the mural in all its glory—no unfinished patches and pending layers. You can already taste the satisfaction, especially because both you and Renjun had worked your asses off finishing it.

But there was an elephant in the room.

It wasn’t a massive elephant, but it was there, sitting right in between you and Renjun and you didn’t know how to address it without him misinterpreting everything.

The elephant: What would become of the two of you after all of this has ended?

You look over at him with that lingering thought.

It was rather baffling because your relationship with him appeared to be nothing more than two co-workers—maybe a little bit more than that. No. That’s wrong. You guys were friends—at least that’s what you considered him. You could easily tell he considers you one of his, too, but you weren’t sure that you were at that point where you would speak to each other after all this is over.

You’d hate to see your relationship with him falter after everything.

You’re hoping Renjun’s feeling the same way, simply because he hasn’t said anything all shift. Just a mere ‘hi’ was all that slipped out his mouth towards you, and a soft ‘thank you’ when Joy had come out to congratulate you both for almost completing the project. Otherwise, he hasn’t done more than breathe and paint.

“You’re quiet,” you say playfully. You’re not sure if you were overstepping boundaries but you wouldn’t have said anything if you weren’t comfortable with Renjun.

The noise in Renjun’s head nearly blocks your voice out completely, but you’re lucky to have caught his attention. “Hm?”

You finish the details of your current part of the painting and move onto the next. It was one step closer to Renjun, “I said you’re quiet. Is something up?” It’s a good sign that Renjun wasn’t shooting any sort of remark your way, but you can tell he’s avoiding eye contact. You haven’t seen Renjun so out of it.

“No,” he replies, “No, I… I’m just thinking.” It was Renjun’s turn to finish an area. He takes a hesitant step closer to you to complete the details of a new area.

Dot. Dot. You use black paint to add details to a bear’s face. Its eyes. It looks a lot better than it did just moments ago. “Can I ask what about?”

Renjun pauses and thinks about his answer. You. He’s thinking about you. But he’s not sure if it would be odd for him to be honest and up-front. Renjun’s adding details to a toy car. Dot. Line. Dot. Dot. “Things. I’ll tell you when I get it sorted out.”

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. You move on to a toy train. Line. Dot. Two lines. Although you’re still truthful about what you just said, you’re still curious about what Renjun was thinking about. Things was such a broad term. It could be about anything—dogs, the colour periwinkle, even his best friend Donghyuck. But you guess you’ll let him marinate those thoughts.

“I want to tell you,” he says gently, “They’re just all jumbled and shit.” The best way to describe his thoughts was like a box filled with stray wires. All of them have been thrown in carelessly and now they’re knotted into one messy ball. He can’t even follow one wire if he tried.

Now you want it out of him ASAP because what the hell is going on in his head that’s causing him to act like this that would be making him want to tell you? Dogs? Periwinkle? Donghyuck? Although you’re panicking on the inside, you remain calm and give a hum in response. You’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

Time flies and the shift is finished, leaving just a smidge of work left needing to be done for the final shift. Even with the mural not complete, it was already at the point where it did look finished. But with the sun setting, you’re not able to catch a good look at the work with its deserved lighting.

“I’ll walk you home,” Renjun says from behind you. You’re surprised he even offers to do so, especially since he seemed to be preoccupied with his thoughts. Despite this, you don’t refuse because you’re not sure if this would be the last time Renjun would be walking you home. Besides, you want to spend as much time as you can with him.

“How are those thoughts in your head?” you question. You both are halfway to your dorm and Renjun’s been mute the entire way. This was your way of pushing some sort of statement out of him because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

Renjun huffs and hums to indicate that he’s thinking of a response, “Do you ever think a certain way about something but… I don’t know, you have some sort of conflict with yourself about those same thoughts and feelings?”

You pause and think about what Renjun’s trying to get at, but he’s being unclear, “In what context?”

Renjun turns to look at you, “It’s hard to put it into words but it’s like… new thoughts you feel like shouldn’t even be there but are there. It’s not like they’re forbidden or bad, but it’s just weird.” He sees your building growing close.

“Hmm…” A part of you knows exactly what he’s talking about, “I get what you mean.”

“How would you handle them?”

“I think that those feelings wouldn’t be there in the first place if you weren’t actually feeling them… or considering them at least.” If you could laugh out loud right now, you would. But you weren’t really risking looking like a maniac in front of Renjun. Your response to Renjun was something you’ve been telling yourself ever since Yeji had you questioning your own feelings for your friend a few nights ago. You only came to actually accept them now.

“But I don’t think you should overthink whatever’s going on up there,” you bring a finger up to his temple and tap it gently, “Chances are that it isn’t as big of a problem as you think.” Then you laugh, “You know, this is one of the things that gave me a bad impression of you at first. You think too much.” Renjun playfully rolls his eyes in response.

You walk ahead of Renjun to open the door. You don’t notice that he’s looking at you with brighter eyes because you’re right. Renjun let pessimism win and its got his mind preoccupied with what can’t happen when there was still chances of you reciprocating his feelings (or at least, what he believed were feelings).

“Wait,” Renjun stops you at the door. He’s standing at the bottom of the steps with you at the top and he realizes now that there’s no turning back from what he’s about to do, “I have my thoughts sorted out now.”

“Okay…” You let the door go and turn to him expectantly, “I’m listening.”

Renjun swallows the saliva in his mouth and he feels his heart pick up in pace. Yeah… here goes nothing. “You know when I first met you, I really didn’t think for a second that I would even like you as a friend. Almost everything between the two of us clashed, but now looking back at it all, we were being stupid and childish.

“That one day when you bought me a drink during our shift… I think that’s when I knew that there was a chance for us to not hate each other. I know it’s a small gesture, but it was the fact you did something nice despite the fact we weren’t getting along. It was sort of a wake up call for me.

“Then everything since then and up ‘til now… the conversations we’ve had, the walks back to the dorms, the visit at the retirement home… I feel like my feelings did a whole one-eighty.”

Renjun takes a step up towards you and exhales a quiet breath, “I…I think I like you. A lot.” He doesn’t know where to look. “And it angers me thinking about how the mural is going to be finished because then I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore.” His head drops for a quick second before he tries to gather his last few drops of confidence before finally looking up at you, waiting for a response of your own.

You’re taken aback by Renjun’s confession, simply because you genuinely didn’t see it coming. It’s hard for you to create the perfect sequence of words to say to him. Your mouth hangs open and all you can say is, “Renjun…”

Renjun’s heart drops immediately with the implication that whatever you’re going to say is bad and he stumbles backwards, almost falling back from the stair he was standing on. “I’ll… see you next shift.” And at that Renjun’s walking away.

°•. ✿ .•°

You’re sitting across the street from the daycare, staring at the almost-finished mural. You’re waiting for Renjun to come and judging by the time on your phone’s screen, he’s twelve minutes late, which was funny because he never was late. Not even once.

You can see Joy sitting at her desk through the window while there are kids running around in the play area behind her. You wonder if she’s wondering where the two of you are. It’s the last shift of this gig and you guys are late. Shouldn’t you both be early to get it over with?

Huffing you decide to make your way in. It wouldn’t hurt to get the supplies ready without Renjun. That way, when he arrives, you both can start.

“Afternoon, Y/N,” Joy looks up and around her computer screen, “Last shift!”

“I know!” you say excitedly, “I can’t believe it. Sorry for being a bit late.”

She shakes her head, “It’s no problem at all. You guys are almost finished, anyways.”

The door behind you squeaks open and you turn to find Renjun slipping through the doorway. His face shows no expression when he makes eye contact with you, but greeting Joy, he offers a small smile. They have a quick exchange, similar to what you just had with her, before you both are sent to grab the supplies.

It felt negatively nostalgic, the way he was avoiding eye contact with you as you bring everything out. It was awfully similar to when you both still didn’t get along and you didn’t like it.

You peek at him through the corner of your eye, heart skipping a beat. You can tell he’s forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He’s leaning in extra close to the wall, shoulder blade turned towards you in hopes to not to feel tempted to talk to you.

But it was odd. Only because he’s grown so used to your conversations.

The silence goes on for a while (it was just eighteen minutes, but it felt much longer), and everytime you think Renjun’s finally going to say something, he doesn’t. There’s some kind of heavy atmosphere engulfing the both of you and you could feel yourself practically suffocating because of it.

You decide to take matters into your own hands. Besides, you were the reason why he wasn’t talking in the first place. You were the reason why there’s this sort of tension between the two of you. “You know you left before I could even give you a proper response.”

Renjun’s breathing hitches at the sound of your voice, his movements halting simultaneously. “Judging by how you first answered, I didn’t think there was anything to hear.” He keeps doing whatever he was doing, but in his peripheral vision, he can see you turn to look at him. “I listened to you,” you say, “So now it’s only fair you listen to me.”

Renjun hesitates for a moment, but he slowly drops his hand before turning to look at you.

“That night, I was going to say that I felt the same about you,” you say nervously. You’re straight to the point, only because you knew Renjun deserved to hear what you knew he wanted to hear three nights ago. “I just… couldn’t find the words to tell you that. Cause hearing me say that, it’s actually lame as hell compared to your confession.”

Your heart decides to use the inside of your chest as a drum and next thing you know you’re facing the wall. You try to busy yourself by finishing the last part of the mural’s details. Your cheeks heat up and you continue tentatively, “I can’t even exactly remember when my feelings for you started to become more than friendly-type feelings? I don’t even know if that makes sense… I just… started to notice that I couldn’t even handle these weird tickling feelings in my chest when I’m around you and I could not, for the life of me, stop them, but it’s not like I wanted to. Fuck, this is embarrassing.”

You’re starting to ramble. Cute, Renjun thinks, holding back a smile.

Putting the paintbrush down, he swiftly places himself next to you. As distracted as you were with your long, long train of thought, you don’t notice him standing next to you.

“But I remember, at the retirement home… one of the old ladies put the idea of you and me being a couple in my head and I didn’t hate the idea of it… I think that’s when I actually realized that I liked–” You muster up enough courage to look at Renjun and you’re met with him looking down at you with adoration—the same ones the night that he confessed, “—you.”

There’s an entire marching band of butterflies in your chest and you’re sure as hell that Renjun can hear them with how close he was. The look in his eyes makes you want to melt into a puddle right in front of him, but you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.

“You have some paint on your face,” he says softly. You gasp and foolishly try to spot the smudge of paint on yourself.

If only you knew that Renjun was shamelessly lying.

Without another word, Renjun reaches for your face, lifting it up with the inner edge of his thumb. Then he whispers, “I-I’ll get it for you. If that’s okay?”

You’re too stunned to even say anything. All you’re able to do is nod.

Renjun brings his lips down to yours and as if your heart conducted the band of butterflies in your body, they halt for a beat and a half before taking over once again. His lips press against yours softly at first, and once Renjun recognizes that everything happening within this very moment was perfect, he allows himself to fall into the kiss, bringing you two closer.

The paintbrush in your hand falls to the ground and your hands instinctively find their way up to Renjun’s shoulders, using them to pull you up closer to him, deepening the kiss.

It truly was perfect—if you ignored the fact that the two of you were probably being watched by anyone and everyone in the daycare—but the moment felt perfect.

When you both finally pull away, Renjun’s eyes scan your face before he breaks out into a smile, bringing you to mirror it. “Did you get it?”

He nods. “Yeah… I did.”

BONUS SCENE!

When Renjun asked you to come back to volunteer for another Throwback Thursday, you were no fool to refuse. You’ve actually been waiting for him to ask you to join him again right after the first one ended—Renjun was just a few weeks late.

“That concludes this week’s Throwback Thursday!” You say, looking over at the residents, “I really want to thank you all for participating and I hope you all enjoyed it.” You can see the residents smiling, clapping their hands.

As the residents start to file out of the room, you turn the mic off, and you spin around to look at Renjun who’s seated behind the piano, “You almost made me cry.” Even after hearing his voice for the first time, you’re still taken aback by how captivating Renjun’s singing was. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.

Renjun’s brows furrow, “What do you mean I almost made you cry!?” He stands up and approaches you in subtle panic, “Did I hurt you in some way or form or–“

“Jun,” you laugh, “Your singing almost made me cry.”

Renjun pauses and steps back, “Oh… then I guess that’s a good thing?” You nod and bring a finger up to poke his cheek which was pulled into a semi-pout. Seeing your finger from a mile away, he attempts to bite it gently but quickly retracts.

“Y/N! Sweetie!” You’re attention is pulled from Renjun to the same lady as last time. The one who made the ‘couple’ comment. She’s gotten a hair cut since you last visited, so you almost don’t recognize her, but she has the same smile. She’s waving for you to come to her and you do without hesitation.

“You don’t know how happy we all were when Renjun said you were coming in today!” She exclaims, “That’s why there were more people that came in today because they heard good stuff from last time.”

“Do you think I lived up to those ‘good things’,” you question, “I would have done better if I knew people had expectations.”

She nods. “I believe you did. Everyone had fun today.”

“Well, that’s good to hear then.”

You watch as her eyes flicker between you and Renjun, who was gathering the papers from the piano, “I’m sensing something’s going on between you two.” A smirk appears on her still-youthful face and you suddenly feel your cheeks heat up.

“You were right about last time, “ you say shyly, “We’re dating now.”

She lets out a sound of delight, hands coming together to make one loud clap sound. “Oh I told you so, sweetheart! This is what I love to see! Does this mean you’ll be coming more often?”

Renjun joins you two quietly and you nod, “I sure hope so.”

‣ an: hey you! you there who finished my fic! I love you sosososososo much for taking your time to actually read this entire thing (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) <— [that’s me ugly crying] but I really do hope you enjoyed it,, maybe let me know what your fav part was? If you didn’t enjoy it (even a lil smidge) I’m sorry about that (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) I’ll do better next time I swear (despite that though, I’m still thankful you read it <3)

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ridingtorohan · 6 months

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Content: Spoilers for AC1-3 and the events surrounding Lucy. A paragraph pushes it to PG-16 with reader lamenting wanting Desmond with direct references to the below verse. AU: Alpha/beta/omega verse Alpha Desmond, Omega female reader. Cross-links: ao3 A/n: Written 2018, formatted but not edited 2022. This first section is written non-linear.

Desmond had been something of an urban legend back at the Farm- he wasn't someone you knew personally, but now was someone you couldn't imagine being without. Surviving the Eye didn't change that fact- but it leads to something else.‏‎

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ WHAT LIES WITHIN YOUR EYES ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ part I (you are here) ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───

It had only taken two days for them all to reach a general agreement about the place. William had held initial reservations about the Manor and Shaun had all but complained the entire way there. Rebecca had spoken earnestly about the idea, voice chipper as she twirled the headphone cord around her index finger with a face-splitting grin. Desmond hadn't particularly reacted to the suggestion- but nobody really pressured him into giving one either.

The Davenport Homestead hadn't felt particularly welcoming - but only in the sense that it was unlivable, hostile to everyone by proxy. Every other building other than the Manor was rundown and barely more than splinters held together by nails, a crude mockery of the fine establishment it was supposed to be. It also felt like home though, enough like the Farm that the three of you had once lived on, with the wooden walls and trees that dotted the horizon, so thick it was a wonder that it hadn’t overtaken the buildings itself.

It was almost hard to believe that the Manor still stood as it did, forgotten by the civilized world as it was. Your lessons spoke of the siege during the 1920's that ripped the Assassins from it. As Desmond traced his fingers fondly along the stair railings and the faded paintings in the basement, you found your tongue stilled. You wouldn't do anything to hurt him and with part of his mind still living as Connor, it might not have turned out well for him if you brought it up.

Connor was the reason why you all ventured there - he had never left the Homestead, not even in the end. Where else did he have left to go? Rebecca swore up and down that the Templars weren't interested in the place since the siege and even Shaun begrudgingly admitted that as a former Assassin stronghold, it would be able to support them. William had relented and admitted to wanting any artefacts left behind but you had a feeling that it more likely had to do with Desmond. You all had agreed to be there for Desmond.

Desmond was … different since the Temple.

All of you had expected him to die - and each time you think of it the fear clogged up your throat and made your hands clammy. His resoluteness was the worst of it - even back at the Farm he had been calm and flippant but that had been something different. None of you spoke of it - of how he almost hadn’t made it out alive.

Somehow, he had saved the world. It was only right that the four of you saved him. When one was haunted by ghosts, the ghost had to be put to rest. Connor's body would help with that - all the missing years from his daughter's conception to his death.

What the four of you couldn’t tell was if it did help more than hinder - Desmond had been quiet since they arrived, barely gave more than one-worded answers or a shake of his head. You had all opted to leave him be and while you didn’t know what it was like to be stuck inside your head, not to the degree that he was, you didn’t leave. Not too far anyways.

You wished you could say that you had always been close with Desmond - that you had always looked up to him and that you only knew the concept of love through him. The truth of the matter was far from it. As a boy years your senior, he was in a separate training class from the Farm. Even then, there was the matter that you weren’t really from the Farm. From a sister branch, your family moved there to help pater out the bloodline and prevent too close of inbreeding. Assassins tried to teach the people of the world and the truth of it, but it is a hard and bitter pill to swallow and not many acclimate to the lifestyle.

No, you hardly knew Desmond. You met him once. Before. He had been a withdrawn boy even then, pock-faced and pudgy but from your limited interactions with him he had never been unkind to you. Your memories of him were foggy at best.

Months and years after the fact, Desmond became something of an urban legend at the Farm. They spoke of rebellions against his father, of a short temper and quick comebacks. He had been the only one foolish enough to leave. In the end it was later transcribed to be bravery.

Desmond told you once of what Juno and Minerva offered him - save the world or damn the world. How the world would have burned but the lot of you would have been safe, trapped in a place separated from the rest of Earth by time and otherworldly constructs. They’ve lied once before, he had said and in the same breath, I couldn’t be a leader to anyone. And that was enough to know that he had thought about it, even for just a moment.

You had thought of how he had been the first to leave from the Farm of their own volition. How the Assassins tried to tail him and lost him somewhere in Kansas, something perceivable due to lack of credentials but no small feat compared to how many Assassins came after him.

Desmond had been the first but he hadn’t been the last. The rest of the younger members took a chance of their own. Stories came back that some were captured and tortured for information or lost at sea, the fact remained that he had started a revolution of his own. His kindness had not gone amiss at a desolate place like the Farm. Even before his ancestors had left their imprints on his mind he had been a leader. He just hadn’t realized it.

You hadn’t told him that, not when he had looked at you with woeful eyes. Self-belief was a difficult thing to nurse.

Some days, it wasn’t Desmond that spoke to you. The horrible thing was that it was difficult to tell when the slip happened. On occasion he would slip into another language and the lot of you would work to soothe him out of the Bleed, but other times none of you had caught onto it until he would have a slight misstep and fumble or even dazedly ask what happened. Those were the days that you would end up holding his hand or sitting close to him, fingers always a constant on his skin when you could. There was a sense of dreaded hopelessness about the situation where all you could do was reassure him of his own presence there - his name in every other sentence or a newspaper detailing the events. Anything to keep him in touch and rooted here with you.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he had kissed you. Perhaps it was his own fumble with reality, his own tightened grip on his sanity. Certainly not one of his ancestors at any rate - there was enough tentativeness to not be Ezio, it simply wasn’t like Connor to do that, and from what you knew of Altair he wouldn’t have kissed you like that, it would’ve likely just been another task for him. You had sworn it was Desmond who did, who leaned down and breathed you in and pressed his fingers to the back of your nape and tilted your head up.

Desmond hadn’t been your first love, hadn’t lain out that foundation for the rest of your life. You had every bit of belief that he would be the last. What you felt for him was slippery - intangible and messy and so horribly painful and bright. A thunder in your veins and the tension in your skin - it was easy to get lost in him, to believe with full conviction that you would not object to anything that he wanted.

The problem was that Desmond did not want easily. You both knew the Farm - knew of how easily and firmly its own code could constrict someone. You hadn’t known you had been a prisoner of a cult in near everything but the walls and name until you had left with William.

It hadn’t been much of a choice on his part - you were one of the few who hadn’t left after Desmond, let alone died on the initial rescue mission. The Creed advocated for freedom but it was difficult to believe in it when it encroached upon everyone there, where the only law you followed was the Tenets that still stood.

Desmond was a pushover to an extent. Even with all the rumours that followed after him after his departure, all the rebellious streaks that was supposed to have happened … it all seemed moot when in comparison to the young boy that you had known. He had followed after his father in the end, had gone through the rigorous training and submitted himself to that way of life. Until he hadn’t anymore. But even then, he had hung low and out of sight, only caught by a foolish mistake. He had been admirable in that, that he had lasted for years without being found out by the very people who specialized in stealth.

He had not objected to the Animus though, hadn’t uttered a word of regret or denial concerning his own impending death. You could recall his resolution back in the Temple, his tired voice and knitted brow. Even as he faced death, he had not turned his back on it. Every time he was told to get in the Animus, he eventually did. He hadn’t even protested when they all came to the Manor the second time, when Rebecca had brought it up to him.

There was nothing but the sound of silence and snow in the stillness of winter. There was no other choice, not when they had made it and followed through on it. None of them were keen on traveling once snow blanketed the ground. Spring was still a few months off especially in the frontier. Desmond had a tendency for cabin fever from what you knew, had reportedly been out of sight every night back in Italy. He had been adamant about leaving to face Cross and Vidic himself, to collect the power sources and carry on his way.

Desmond had sworn he wasn’t capable of being leader and yet the four of you had agreed willingly. William had come as a surprise to you given his accompanied alpha status, the very same as his son. The fights that you had witnessed between the two of them hadn’t been pretty. Desmond had wanted to confront Vidic. Shaun and Rebecca had no conflicts about it in the end, resigned themselves to the best option.

You hadn’t spent long in the field yourself, could not argue that this wasn’t the best course of action. Your work was better covering your tracks and finding signals on the web - all proven moot when in comparison to the likes of Rebecca. You hadn’t been worth much now that both you and William had met up with the group but while it had been the two of you it had suited the both of you just fine.

Somewhere along the way, the five of you had unwittingly become a pack, had every dynamic of one that completely functioned. Lucy had been the alpha of the last one, the head of the group. Here, it had fallen to Desmond and he wore it exactly like how he settled into his genetic memories. Easily and seamlessly. Even with your heart in your throat, you had offered no protest to him going to Abstergo.

You had cared for Desmond in your own way, had admired his steadfastness and determination until he had nearly killed himself for it. Your first introduction to him was to a boy with a face with a frown and the second was to someone equally as desolate. His sleep had not been peaceful, comatose and unresponsive to the world.

“Get him in the Animus” William had said and Desmond was strapped in. Even when the Animus went on the fritz and tried to deny his mind, when he had outright flatlined more than once, he had remained strong. When Desmond chased after Vidic, stood tall on that skyscraper, mic attached to his shirt, you could hear the wonder and awe in his voice. While you couldn't see his face, you could see what he did. Despite the grainy feedback, you saw where he stood at the end of everything.

It’s it beautiful? He had said. With your heart permanently glued to the inner lining of your throat, you had agreed. Desmond had stopped to admire the view and you had done it with him. Until it had been time to go, time to kill and move on and go go go go go.

None of you could stop, not even for a moment, not for some sight seeing or to catch their breaths. But the memory had implanted itself in your mind, solid and true. You had understood then why Desmond had left. And when Desmond took a Leap of Faith afterwards, you had inadvertently fallen with him.

Desmond had not forgotten your agreement. Even when everyone else had ushered him to hurry on, you had spoken in positive response. Even when the threat of the world hung around all your shoulders - and the doom it had spelled for him - he had pulled you aside on the rare occasion that he had been lucid and handed you his phone.

“You had liked the view too,” he had said with a worn smile and half-lidded eyes. It was not something that you had easily forgotten either. You were all but deftly reminded of his unfailing kindness and selflessness then. How he had taken the time to take a picture just for you.

“Thank you,” you had said. It was almost all that you could. He had smiled, something far more genuine that only solidified the feeling in your chest. He had clapped a hand to your shoulder and was ushered back into the Animus.

The situation between you two had shifted then. Because alphas and omegas were historically known to generally get along you had to endure nearly a dozen of Shaun’s ribbing comments already. It had been senseless banter and shameless teasing before, implications present in the edge of his voice. It was not something that could be ignored anymore, not anything that you wanted to let go of.

You didn’t want to replace Lucy, nor could you properly. She had been an alpha. You had known of her importance to the group, how hard her absence and betrayal had hit them. William hadn’t tried to replace her, even as another alpha he could sense her own placement there.

Lucy was a sore subject, a soft whisper if even that. You knew she had been close to Desmond but the truth hadn’t hurt before. If you could even call this feeling hurt- you couldn’t envy a dead woman, couldn’t chastise her for her own wasted opportunities and lament about what could have been between the two of them.

But in a way, you had taken her spot. She had tended to Desmond and now you did. The wedge between you - the wall formed by your arrival with his father had began to dismantle. Desmond didn’t necessarily need to be cared for, he could stand on his own and effortlessly carried the weight of the entire group. The admiration you had felt for him shifted since the phone, since returned to him so he could fiddle with it and record some audio clips you believed, had settled into something warmer and more wanting.

You couldn’t help him entirely, not in the way that mattered most or most effectively. You would like to believe it had been enough.

You were not entirely obtuse in your feelings for him - Rebecca had eyed you plenty a time over the edge of her computer. Shaun for his part had tried to arrange it so that the both of you were together. William pretended it wasn’t happening and perhaps for that alone you were thankful. Desmond, in his own way, had not remained oblivious either.

Rather, it had been Desmond-as-Ezio who had caught on. As Rebecca had told you, Ezio was a flirt through and through. While Ezio knew the ways of sex like the back of his hand, he knew love even greater. He had always fallen hard and fast. You had known it was Ezio at the forefront of Desmond's mind by the way he had watched you and curled his vowels.

Shaun had translated once, had remained stone-faced for far longer than you thought he would, before he said that Ezio suggested you tell him. “I have known love and I have lost it,” is what Shaun had translated. “Do not lose your chance.”

Time waited for no one. When Desmond had stood before the pillar and said his goodbyes, begged them to leave, to let him be to his fate, you thought to ask him to stay. Desmond pressed his phone into your hand and pulled you into a hug in the same motion.

He smelled of alpha-sweat-blood-dust-cold metal-whiskey-cinnamon-home-home- home. You hadn’t wanted to let him go. “I should have kissed you,” you whispered out. Instead, Desmond had let go of you - and leaned in to do exactly that.

Hours later, when the rumble of vehicles threatened overhead, their position compromised, you all struggled to gather what you could. You all had left him there to stand before his end. The end of the world had not come - but neither did Desmond leave. Time was wasted sitting there, incapable of mobility after most of your items had been packed - none of you had wanted to touch Baby, not yet. You feared you would still feel his warmth there, that if you so much as touched anything that belonged to him you would break down and cry.

Desmond had came out of the Temple and you had done exactly that anyways. “It didn’t need to be me,” he had say in way of explanation, eyes a swirl of that familiar glint of gold before he blinked, voice full of disgust, rigidness, and resignation. “It was my blood. It has always been my blood.” Then he had tucked himself in the back of the van right next to you and pressed his chin to the flesh between your shoulder and neck.

He Bled regularly as you drove along. William cursed up a storm each time he regressed and you could only clutch him tighter each time that he did and with every harsh motion of the van. You had almost lost him. You all had.

Even if you all hadn’t tried to Bleed Connor out of his system, the drive back was well worth it. The tires hadn’t survived and all of you had cricks in your neck but it had been enough. The Manor welcomed you all well enough but Desmond most of all.

Perhaps it had been the Connor inside of him that reacted, that still saw it as his den. Unlike his other ancestors, Connor had no proper pack of his own, not outside of his children, Achilles or even for that odd encounter with Shay. He had found solace in the Manor and so had Desmond.

William spoke of leaving after spring, of reports about a modified Animus and how Abstergo hunted one of their own. You had read the reports yourself but you had Desmond in your mind’s eye and so that was all that William’s comments had remained - comments. Even as an alpha, he couldn’t dictate what the pack chose. No one dared speak of going their own separate ways despite what the eldest seemed to imply.

Even with nearly two years as William's accomplice and with a reliable bond, it couldn't compare to what you shared with the others. William had not asked you to leave with him though, not then. For all that he had done wrong, from what you knew, it was a saving grace. You would not have picked him.

Connor was never an aggressive presence with Desmond though. The younger Altair, when he bled through, was a downright terror and an equally as young Ezio was too rambunctious, Connor had never mucked up much trouble. So when each Animus session with Desmond that lead him closer to the end that was written for Connor, you had seen less of him. It had been almost February when Desmond had whispered into your skin with a slur to his words, “He’s still there. Just resting.” Desmond ended up telling the others but you had been the first.

William eyed the van then and you had seen Shaun’s mouth form words of his own to comment but Rebecca had only smiled and clasped her hand to Desmond’s own. “You’re doing good, Desmond.” And he had softened and sent her a smile of his own and everything seemed right in the world, a little more sturdier.

Desmond did not want easily. He always put everyone else’s needs above his own, always followed their rules and their dictations. Even lost in his own world he obeyed the commands rigorously trained into him. He still chose his own meal if given a choice, still wanted to watch a surprisingly high quality movie on Rebecca’s computer with you - but he didn’t contribute to the discussion of where to go and what to do. He had fought so hard for his own life and it was barely with a fumble that he slipped back into that same old mold.

You remembered the day of when he had been found to have disappeared. How it had happened without warning. Ages past the fact had twisted the story, had stated that he had been found missing and his mother had crudely screamed and woke the whole household. The stories went that he had rallied up a small group of fellow recruits and taken a few with him after burning down an old outhouse. That he had threatened to leave numerous times before and successfully done it and that he would leave for good. That he took a car and blasted out of there with the radio on full blast.

You remember the truth of it. It took near four hours after wake up for anybody to even notice. It wasn't unusual for Desmond to venture out to the forest or to go horseback riding. There was no screaming or crying fest, nobody hollered or threw things. You knew well enough that Desmond and William had fought the night before. There had been no border patrols or guards or even gates.

He had simply walked out and never looked back, hitchhiked and bussed as far away as he could. Nobody had expected for one of their own to walk out - hadn’t expected that anybody would want to. Desmond had already been gone long before he had run away, it was just a matter of his physical body getting the memo.

It had been a quick and quiet affair with nary a word from him then. While you doubted that he would leave the four of you there, that he would so quickly up and leave, you knew well enough that history repeated itself. Desmond’s genetic memories proved that time and time again. You feared that the man you loved wasn’t the one you thought he was.

So every so often, when that same feeling niggled at the back of your mind, you went looking for him.

You found him in Connor’s old room. Relief had came in with a sloppy tidal wave. A shudder passed through you the moment you stepped through the doorway.

All of you slept in the living room, had set up that room to be the most hospitable during the cold months. The fireplace had kept you all warm enough and if it hadn’t, Desmond would be there at your back, holding you to his chest. Even then, there were moments like these that he was separated from you, far away both physically and mentally.

He turned towards you at the sound of your cleared throat. Shaun’s words from Ezio haunted you. You almost lost him. “Desmond?” you asked, voice shrill in the slow trickle of the air. You sneezed twice at the dust that floated around. He had drawn a mattress up there and even placed it atop the bed frame still present. Not Connor’s, you knew, but old enough. You touched your hand to his blanketed shoulder.

“Yeah,” he sighed and ran a hand up his face. “It’s me.” It … hadn’t been what you were going to say, let alone ask. You frowned.

“Why are you up here alone?” you whispered. The bed creaked beneath you as you sat beside him. His blanket was drawn up around his shoulders, huddled around his head like a hood. There was an edge of sleepiness to his eyes and a few creases around his mouth, bruises beneath his eyes. Desmond hadn’t slept well since Abstergo, since the first Animus session. That or it was literally his genetics. He has been tired long before that.

Desmond let out a slow exhale of air. Not quite a sigh. Desmond never sighed. Your frown deepened. “I’m thinking,” he confessed, eyes not on you. He’s focused at something on the wall. You almost thought there was a painting there once, a long time ago. His focus slipped and he instead shifted his hand to rub at his eyes. “Didn’t realize I spent so much time up here. Are you doing okay?”

You thought about how to answer that. For someone who had the whole world on his shoulders, you’d almost have hoped that he’d take some time to himself. You retracted your hand to tug at his own, to stop his restless fingers and to soothe him with small strokes of yours across the back of his hand. “I’m worried about you,” you said truthfully.

“I’m okay.” The reply hadn’t come as quickly and selflessly as you thought it would. There was no conviction in the words. Your fingers stilled. His flesh was so warm, so present - you didn’t want him to leave you. But you didn’t want to be selfish either, didn’t want to cage him down. “I’m about ready to go. Dad was saying something about Egypt, I think.”

“You listen to your dad?” you joked, eyebrows raised. There was a soft huff of an exhale from him, never quite a laugh but almost. Almost.

“I try not to,” Desmond said with a light tone of amusement. He turned his hand around, palm against yours before he twined your fingers with his. He let out a hum of consideration, mouth twitched at one corner. It was the most display of emotion that you had seen from him in quite a while.

“I don’t think he appreciates that.”

“Yeah, probably not. But he can deal with it,” he quipped back just as easily. You reflectively sent him a smile and the tension eased out of his arm, hand going lax against yours. He was always so tense, so rigid, so prepared for the worst to come yet. You hoped that wasn’t the case - you’re not sure you could handle the rug being pulled out from beneath the both of you.

Desmond’s smile stilled at the sight of your frown and with another exhale he let go of your hand to grasp at the corner of his blanket to drape across your shoulders too. It meant that you had to draw closer towards him, not quite sprawled into his lap as you would have hoped for but at least hip to hip. Not even that was necessary. You just liked to reassure yourself that he was there.

You echoed his exhale, drew it out into a sigh. “How are you really, Desmond?” There was a slight twitch in his eyebrow at that, at the pronunciation of his name. His expression lacked confusion though which was more comforting than you had expected.

“Tired.” His posture wavered and you worried he’d pitch to the side but instead he just pulled you closer towards him, one leg draped across his and his shoulder almost awkwardly pressed against your sternum. It was usually a hesitant fumble between you two to find an appeasing position for the both of you and eventually he settled to wrap an arm around your waist and let you rest your head against his chest. “We aren’t … happy with how things have turned out here.”

You stiffened against him involuntarily. ‘We’. Desmond had a penchant of referring to all the memories and voices inside his head as a collective ‘we’. Rarely did he refer to himself in the singular tense. It was just fortunate that he had been referring to himself for the most part.

Desmond drew away from you - and despite your initial thought, it wasn’t to get a better look at your expression. He drew a couple pillows from the headboard, shot a load of dust through the air in the process and positioned it up behind himself. He tugged you down beside him as you dragged the blanket with you and made sure to toss it over his socked feet, tucked your knees closer towards your body and curled towards him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Desmond let his hand rest along your head and began to casually thread his fingers through the strands. There was a frown present on his lips again, deep enough to pull the scar across his lip tight. There was a shadow of a beard on his jawline, dark against his skin. He looked so aged from this position. You wanted to ease his burden.

“Achilles had entrusted this house to him,” Desmond spoke up finally, something sharp and jagged in his voice. His hand had stopped all motion in your hair. “It was-,” a pause as he searched for the right word, a violent lurch of his eyebrow as he knitted it and a hot breath of air from his nose before he relented with, “Connor’s house. When I was in the Animus, I - as Connor - had helped repair it. We had built this place, the entire Homestead. It was made by my hands - to see it like this...” His voice trailed off into silence.

There was a vacant glaze to his eyes, a ripple of uncertainty and fractured lifetimes. Desmond may have been with you in the room and that may have been his heartbeat beneath his hand but he has left you alone all the same.

“Desmond.” It was on the fourth time that he turned to face you, a couple pronounced blinks to his gaze as he seemed to focus on you. You raised your hand from his shirt to his face, cupped his jaw and let your thumb rest along his cheek. “Desmond, what you and Connor built was … was amazing. It still is. It’s just a little run down, that’s all.”

“It’s forgotten.” The impact behind his words had you falter for a moment. He didn’t say anything after that but he waited all the same. You bit your lip, wondered how much time he would give you to think of how to respond to that, to the tone of his voice.

“This is more than just about the house, isn’t it?” you asked him. Desmond didn’t immediately respond but his eyes didn’t trail from your face, insistent on staring into yours as he processed it. He closed his eyes, lovely brown obscured by the dark of his eyelashes. His head settled deeper against the pillow.

“Connor lived and died in this house. His wife lived here with him until she left. She took the kids. Connor had nothing left. Nothing but an old rocking chair and this house. And now here it is in ruin.” You wondered then if he would cry, if this would be what finally broke him.

You had heard that he had been unhappy when Monteronigirri had perished to flame and blade, when little to no one had been spared. You wondered if the memory was buried somewhere deep inside him, if it settled there as an unscabbed open wound. If it pestered him day in and day out. Ezio had years to get over the tragedy, if he ever did. Desmond didn’t have the luxury. It was still a fresh ache to him. To reopen the wound with Connor and his unlucky end ...

“You remembered it,” you told him. “You’re here right now. Connor isn’t alone because .. he’s with you. You’re with him, and I’m with you. We’re all with you, Desmond. We’re not going anywhere without you.” You were firm to implant his name there, to affirm his hold on reality. You all had thought that if he relived Connor’s memories it would help soothe the Effect, that Desmond could go back to the life that he had before, that he could live unhindered and unburdened by it. Anything for it all to be easier for him.

“My Dad talked about Egypt,” there was a slight scoff to his voice. (I’m losing him.) “Why don’t we just go? I’m just holding you all back, this isn’t anything-”

“No.” You moved both hands to cup his face and he stared at you with impassive eyes. Desmond has not wanted much. He gave up a lot before, to get all of them to the end, to get them knowledge otherwise lost. He was willing to give it all up again with just a word. He would. “You’re keeping us all together, Desmond. We’re your pack, don’t you understand? Yours.” You leaned up to kiss him and your knee knocked against his before you settled your leg on the other side of his waist. He didn’t respond at first, let you pepper his face with kisses. Gradually, he seemed to react, upturned his face to return the gesture, to press his lips against yours. His hands settled along your hips, thumbs pressed into the clothed skin there. Your mouth lingered a fair deal more but it was him who dragged his tongue across your lip, had you shudder in response.

You could feel him smile against your skin, felt the uneven skin of his scar catch on you when you allowed him at your throat. You could feel a pattern begin to emerge in the light rubs of his thumbs, something almost like dialect. His kisses were slow, languid and light, a butterfly touch if you had ever felt one. You let out a breathy sigh of his name and he paused then.

“Desmond?” you prompted him and sat back on your knees, a leap in your chest, worried that you had overstepped a line.

“Just thinking,” he promised, a few seconds too slow. There was an upturn to his mouth, an appreciative look in his eyes. His hands hovered along your hips though and you knew that there was no use pushing your luck.

Desmond would likely relent if you pushed him to have sex with you now, if you begged him with a breathy tone to let you take his knot but you also knew that his heart wouldn’t be in it. That he might not want it. You couldn’t push him like that, you didn’t have it within yourself to.

“You think enough for four people,” you said pointedly and made sure to throw in a grin for good measure. You threw your leg off of him, tried not to let your disappointment surface in your scent. He had your neck exposed to him, he had already likely caught your arousal and anticipation in it alone. You weren’t disappointed in him though, never him.

“Hm,” there was a lighter turn of his mouth then, something pleased and adoring in that gesture alone. Even though he just had his tongue in your mouth and his lips and fingers on your skin, it was his smile that made you flustered. Go figure. You averted your gaze, tried to ignore the wider spread of his lips. “Definitely smart enough for four men.”

You swatted your hand against his chest as you collapsed next to him, made sure to draw your legs tighter together before you tugged his arm down and settled down against it. “Definitely,” you relented. Desmond’s look was appreciative and genuine, fond to the very end. “Or at the very least ripped enough for them.” You reached out a hand to pat against his stomach and then there was the laugh that you missed so much.

At some point, Shaun had started a running joke about Desmond being pudgy. He had been in his youth, sure, but most children were. Being on the run and doing a bunch of parkour promised at least some muscles. You grinned wide enough for the both of you when he rolled onto his side, albeit with a little bit of struggle with his trapped arm beneath you.

“Thank you,” Desmond said after a moment. “For trying to help.” You shifted enough for him to draw his arm out and he flexed his fingers experimentally, a falter to his earlier cheer as he stared at his hand. The very hand that he had supposedly clasped onto the Eye.

“Of course.” You told him. You leaned forward to press another kiss against his lips, let it linger and rest against the swell of his mouth. He inhaled your exhale and let his lips move against yours, calm and pleasant. When he pulled back, it was a wonder you hadn’t confessed to loving him. It would have been terribly easy. But the truth of the matter was despite your fear and insecurities, you knew that you had nearly all the time in the world - and isolated in the Manor as your pack was, it very well could have been.

Suddenly, you knew, that if this was what the end of the world had been like, you’re fairly certain you wouldn’t have minded at all.

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