Chapter Text
The breeze that winds through the trees is cool against Jeno’s flushed skin, though the dainty white umbrella above him does little to dissipate the last days of heat. Around him, the patio is nearly empty. There is only an older European couple with coffee cups on their little wooden table. The view from where he and Renjun sit is gorgeous—the mountain covered in hues of yellows, red, and oranges. Back in Korea, fall has just begun, the chill creeping into the nights, but here in Lijiang, tucked between mountain ranges and close enough to the fluffy white clouds above that Jeno thinks he can touch them, fall has long arrived.
“Beautiful day,” Jeno comments. He takes a sip from his peach bellini. It’s his third of the late morning—which, Jeno surmises with another sip, might have something to do with how warm he feels.
Renjun sits across from him, his body poised perfectly in the oversized chair he sits in. Staring at him a moment longer, Jeno thinks it is a bit silly to wear Chanel’s latest lambskin blouson in beige to an informal brunch event, paired with one of last year’s jewelry collections, but Renjun has always been like this. The colors bring out the sun-kissed tint to his skin. Granted, Jeno only knows he’s wearing at least twenty million won because he walked for both collections. Still, it makes Jeno seem out of place in his year-old faded Ferragamo zip-up he accidentally got bleach on last week, and a pair of sweats that are definitely Jisung’s.
“It’s perfect,” Renjun says. His fingers tap on the table, engagement ring sitting pretty on his hand. “The weather should hold until we leave, which I am so thankful for.” His lips turn into a little smile, part annoyed part fond. “My mother was worried that a late storm would roll through and ruin all my hard planning. Very sweet of her, but that’s all she’s been talking about. I’m a little tired of it.”
Jeno laughs. “She means well—her only son only gets married once, right?”
Renjun glares at Jeno over the rim of his champagne glass. Jeno’s still shocked—or rather, appalled—Renjun had sat down, crossed one dainty leg over the other, and smiled at the waiter with the words French 75 on his tongue. The thought—and sight—of the drink makes Jeno’s stomach curl.
Bad memories. Several, if Jeno wants to be honest with himself.
His peach bellini does not harbor such painful memories. Jeno takes another sip and nods to himself. Yeah, perfect.
“You know,” Renjun starts. The sun appears from where its light had hidden behind a large fluffy cloud and it makes Renjun pause. His nose wrinkles—Jeno finds it cute. With quick movements, Renjun grabs the oversized sunglasses he discarded upon sitting under the flimsy umbrella and perches them atop his nose. “I’m not as nervous as I thought.”
Jeno hum. “I never thought you were nervous—not about marriage.”
There’s a beat of silence. Renjun’s teeth pick at an invisible patch of dry skin on his bottom lip. “Jisung’s clearly been keeping things from you then,” he decides to say. His lips curl into another soft smile. “There have been several moments of panic. I took it out on Mark too, a few times.”
The sun ducks behind yet another cloud lazily rolling by, an accompanying breeze matching the movement of the clouds. Jeno welcomes the brief reprieve of heat on his skin, felt even through his zip-up.
Renjun’s words bring forth a memory, a flash of Mark pouting on Jeno’s couch, wrapped up in too many blankets last winter and a beer in hand. Jeno doesn’t remember much of their conversation, lost to the haze of time. Though, he would bet it to be something inane about Mark and Renjun’s early wedding preparations. “Mark definitely,” Jeno agrees. “But Renjun… you’ve never been nervous about marrying Mark. I don’t think that was ever a question in your mind.”
The wind picks up, from a cute breeze to something strong enough to have Jeno’s napkins attempt to fly away from him. He catches them, barely, and stacks them in a haphazard pile before he places his half full bellini on top. The glass tilts, unhappy to be placed in such a precarious position, but Jeno would really like to enjoy the weather without chasing wayward napkins around the patio.
Renjun, as usual in situations like these, is no help, eyes shielded from the sun but smile just as blinding in Jeno’s opinion. Marriage will be a good look on him, Jeno thinks to himself.
“Isn’t it the same for you?” Renjun asks as he swirls the devil’s concoction in his glass. “I see how you look at Jisung—and how he looks—”
Jeno feels his goodwill for the entire impromptu brunch die. He pauses mid sip to put his glass back down. “No,” he says, not bothering to keep the lack of warmth out of his voice. “No, it is not the same.”
“But—” Renjun shifts forward, the most movement he’s done since sitting down. He pushes his sunglasses down to squint at Jeno. “You have the prom—”
“Enough.” Jeno tilts his head, just enough to have his hair—a little too long for his tastes, but Jisung loved to play it with at night—flop into his eyesight. He shoves it away with a frustrated hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
The words are a final warning for Renjun to drop it, a warning for himself not to touch the forever fragility that is Jisung and Jeno’s relationship. If this were Donghyuck across from him, or Mark, or—god forbid—Jaemin, Jeno would not get out of this conversation scott-free, but Renjun hasn’t known him for nearly two decades, hasn’t been privy to late nights on Jaemin’s couch four soju bottles deep and a gnawing inadequacy keeping him frozen.
So instead of the words Jeno can see eager to burst from Renjun’s tongue, the ire that momentarily furrows his brow, the set in his jaw reminiscent of every time Donghyuck baited Renjun into yet another argument, Renjun does nothing.
“Sorry,” Renjun says, demure. He smiles at the waiter as their brunch is placed in front of them. Renjun’s sweet potato congee looks pale in comparison to Jeno’s spread of fruit and two pieces of toast with avocado and fried egg. “Dieting again?”
Just like that, the ease of their brunch resumes, Jeno’s ire swept away like the sweet babbling brook he found with Chenle just the other day near the edge of the resort’s property. He smiles sweetly at Renjun. Delicately, he plucks a succulent looking piece of pineapple and pops it into his mouth. “Not really?” Jeno says around the fruit. “Doctor wants me to eat more fat.”
Jeno doesn’t mention that it was Jisung who pulled him into bed one day, Jeno still damp with shower mist, and fit his fingers perfectly into the spaces between Jeno’s ribs. Jisung had stared at him, his frown so deep that Jeno worried that it would become permanent on his face, and told Jeno to stop dieting.
Which Jeno doesn’t do on purpose. Or, more accurately, he doesn’t subject himself to it maliciously. It’s easier to skip breakfast, to drink an Americano and water with a protein bar between shoots, sip at smoothies during the day and eat a semi-decent meal at night. It’s easier still when a brand requests Jeno to drop a kilo or two, just going to the gym a few extra days a week.
But Jisung had sat atop him, traced the stark outline of Jeno's ribs, and scolded Jeno until there were tears in Jisung's eyes. Jeno went to the doctor the next day, shame tucked carefully under his tongue, and accepted the loose dietary plan to get him less thin.
In front of Jeno, Renjun nods and takes a bite of his own food. “You did look worse for wear back in the summer,” he agrees. Jeno swallows around the new blossom of shame in his throat. “Mark told me something about modeling for the fall collections, so I didn’t say anything.” He waves a hand, flippant as he gestures towards Jeno. “You look good now, though.” He removes his sunglasses when the sun hides behind a cloud. When Jeno meets his eyes, Renjun winks.
Jisung had said the same before they flew out of Korea, lips pressed to Jeno’s temple, while his fingers prodded at the slight give of Jeno’s stomach. Jeno doesn’t plan on telling either of them of the little app on his phone that counts every calorie he inputs. The doctor had told Jeno he could so long as he didn’t abuse it—so Jeno thinks he’s doing alright.
“Yeah, high fat,” Jeno says around a mouthful of avocado toast. This time, Renjun scowls at him, which does not deter Jeno in the slightest. “I cut back on the gym too—doctor’s orders.” He swallows, coughs, and washes down the bite with a long sip of peach bellini until it’s gone. Jeno waves over the waiter and asks for another. “Even gave me a list of food to eat.”
The waiter picks up Jeno’s glass and moves to walk away, slinking in and out of the conversation like a ghost. “Ah, no—wait, please.” Renjun downs the rest of his French 75, and hands his glass to the water. “Another one for me as well, thank you."
Jeno can only stare, partially in awe but mostly in horror. “That’s disgusting,” he says as the waiter vanishes back into the building. Renjun smiles. “You’re disgusting,” Jeno says again.
It makes Renjun laugh. Jeno’s always thought of it to be a beautiful sound, something musical and light. He can see how Mark fell in love with it, can see how Mark wrote songs about the beauty tucked into the notes of Renjun’s easy laughter. “Well, disgusting and soon to be married, so I’m doing something right.”
“Cute.”
That brings color to the apples of Renjun’s cheeks. Unable to blame the alcohol, Renjun merely covers his mouth with his hand. Jeno simply gives a cheeky smile back and eats more of his toast and fruit.
Moments later, the waiter returns with refills of both their drinks. Jeno and Renjun offer their thanks, which earns them a small smile from the young man.
Renjun is not Mark. Jeno cannot pull out his phone and show him their old classmates, a mischievous twinkle in eye as they trade gossip about the lives of people they no longer have much contact with. Jeno cannot hook his foot around Renjun’s, posture abysmal as he complains about the horrors of his job to someone who understands the way he can to Jaemin. But Renjun has never been anything except courteous. Jeno isn’t sure if he can go as far as to call them friends, Jeno’s always put him in the box as being Jisung’s the way Mark is Jeno’s.
But.
Eating brunch with Renjun… is nice. Inoffensive in a way that Jeno expected, yet is still surprised by. They aren’t close enough for Renjun to properly nag him, though they are close enough to pry a bit into their personal lives, if only because they are so intertwined in the first place.
“Your diet…” Renjun sets his spoon down. It makes Jeno look up as he licks the taste of apple off his fingers. “Are you going to be okay—for the wedding? Do we need to change something for you? Should I tell the chefs that you need a different—”
Jeno laughs. He quickly cuts Renjun off with frantic waves of his hand. “No, no it’s okay I promise.” Renjun is still staring at him, eyes wide and concerned, fingers hovering over his phone like he’s prepared to ignore anything Jeno’s saying. “A lot of that is already high in fat. Promise, Jun—you don’t have to change anything.”
“Okay.” Renjun nods. He narrows his eyes, still suspicious, but ultimately moves his fingers away from his phone and picks up his spoon again. Jeno watches until Renjun takes another bite of his congee, and has to smother a smile when he notices Renjun's stare slide over to the copious amounts of fruit still on Jeno's plate. Without much thought, Jeno slides the plate closer to Renjun and laughs when Renjun immediately plucks an apple slice from the array of fruit. He pops it into his mouth with a pleased hum. "Thank you."
For the fruit? “Of course.”
“No for—for brunch.” Renjun doesn’t look up, but Jeno sees his smile. “I needed this, to get away for a while. I know we aren’t the closest, I thought you would be down the mountain with Lele, or Donghyuck. You could have said no.” He pauses again, when he looks up, he aims his pretty smile at Jeno full force. “Thank you for accompanying me this morning.”
A large party spills onto the patio and their overlapping voices jolt Jeno into sitting up straight. He checks his phone—it's nearly one in the afternoon, far later than he had anticipated. When he looks back up, Renjun has slipped his sunglasses back on. Jeno plucks his cap from the edge of the table and shoves it onto his head. Somehow, they make eye contact and burst into muted giggles.
“Automatic, isn’t it?” Jeno comments as he fixes his fringe. Renjun nods in agreement. “Anyway, it’s no problem. To join you. Jisung’s sick again today, so I decided to take it easy. He ordered congee before I left to meet you, so I’ll take some of the fruit back to him if we don’t finish.”
This has a wrinkle appearing between Renjun’s brows, lips pulling into a delicate frown. “Sick? Still?”
Jeno picks up a wayward piece of avocado from his plate with his fork. He's still a bit hungry, and mourns the speed in which he ate his toast. He thinks about ordering another one, partially for Jisung, but more because the image of feeding Jisung fruit piece by piece is adorable. He would be so cute, with his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, embarrassed even while he makes those little noises he always does when he tastes something delicious. Jeno can easily picture the way Jisung's eyes would light up upon tasting the peach on his tongue.
“He’s just nauseous a bit,” Jeno replies. “Nothing too major, but it gave me an excuse to not walk another fourteen kilometers with the others around town.”
Renjun laughs in agreement before they lapse back into silence, finishing off the bits of their meals. Jisung ultimately gets none of the fruit, the last pieces of apples and snow peach juice getting licked from the pads of Jeno’s fingers.
“I’ll go pay,” Renjun says. He's quick to reach into his pocket and pull out his tiny wallet, a black credit card visible from cream leather. Immediately, Jeno reaches across the table to push his hand—and wallet—down, and nearly knocks over their empty glasses in the process.
“No? Why would I make you pay?” Jeno straightens up before he stands. “You’ve done so much, Renjun. Let me treat you, this once if nothing else.”
“You sure?” Renjun stares up at Jeno, eyes round with gratitude. Jeno understands just how Mark fell in love with him.
It makes something ache deep in his chest, a hollowed-out part that Jeno’s never fully been able to fill. He tried—he’s still trying—but for a moment, Jeno feels fury at the idea that Mark gets to have this. To have marriage at the tip of his fingers, to have something so wholly his and never worry that he’s going to fuck it up. To know that he can go to bed and feel deserving of being loved.
Jeno wishes it were him who got to feel that. Just for a while—a taste of a life that he knows is not for him.
“Yeah,” Jeno replies with a smile. He does not let the sourness of his own heart seep into the real world. Renjun doesn't deserve it. “Go back to Mark, make him take you to the spas or the sauna. Relax Renjun, seriously.”
Dainty fingers reach for Jeno’s, pause for just a moment, and then commit to curling around Jeno's wrist. "Only if you promise to take care of Jisung today." The words are light, an airiness to Renjun's lilted speech. Jeno knows, however, they are not a joke.
Still, he smiles down at Renjun. Prays that it reaches his eyes. It must work, as Renjun gives a short nod and lets him go. “I will,” Jeno promises.
And he will. He will always take care of Jisung—more than Renjun probably knows.