pairing: ChenLay
length: 1920 words

“Are you done eating?”

Jongdae listlessly looked up at his housemate, Kyungsoo, who blinked owlishly while gesturing to the dishes atop the dining table. They looked as though they’d been barely touched, which was a far cry from how they usually were when Jongdae and his housemates all ate dinner together. Tonight, it was just him and Kyungsoo, since Lu Han and Zitao were traveling for a work conference. Kyungsoo was quiet as always, preferring to keep to himself while cooking and to listen to music through giant headphones while eating.

But even he could sense that Jongdae’s spirits were lower than usual, especially after surreptitiously glancing at the older male every few minutes during dinner, only to see Jongdae clutching his arm to his side and staring blankly at the plate of egg fried rice in front of him. Jongdae’s face was pale and gaunt, and he had noticeably lost weight over the past few weeks. It was...unsettling, to say the least. Even though it wasn’t necessarily surprising, given how ill Jongdae had been the past month.

Kyungsoo kindly repeated, “Are you done eating?” while nudging the plate of dumplings closer to Jongdae who hadn’t taken any, despite having pan-fried them himself just fifteen minutes prior.

The older male turned his blank stare towards Kyungsoo and monotonously answered, “I’ll clean up in a bit.”

“Are you sure?” Kyungsoo clearly wasn’t convinced, especially when Jongdae’s tone was so hollow and his fingers were digging into his arm—painfully.

But Jongdae just nodded and dully reiterated, “I’ll clean up in a bit.” There was a slight pause before he continued, voice slightly wobbling, “I can handle it.”

Kyungsoo bit his bottom lip, not wanting to abandon his emotionally vulnerable housemate while also wanting to respect Jongdae’s need for space.

He stayed rooted in place, conflicted on how to proceed, until he heard a barely audible, “Please…” from his housemate. After letting out a morose sigh, Kyungsoo nodded and headed into the kitchen to wash the dishes before disappearing into his bedroom.

Once he was finally alone, Jongdae’s shoulders fell and he let out a shaky breath as his eyes automatically began welling up with tears. He didn’t know why—

No, that was a lie.

He knew perfectly why he was such a mess these days.

Even if it had taken him a couple of weeks to fully realize the depth of why his mental state had completely broken down lately, Jongdae knew exactly why he couldn’t seem to stop crying even though he hated it to the core of his being.

The distraught male quickly stood up and darted into the living room, which was completely dark at the moment. Jongdae passed the light switch without a single glance before toppling onto the armchair in the left corner, bringing his arm over his now-damp eyes as he let out a long raggedy breath. A familiar pain bloomed across his chest and he felt his insides being squeezed by invisible claws, piercing sharply into his incredibly weak body.

Once he was finally able to bring his arm down, once the tears slowed to a sporadic drip from the previous downpour, Jongdae stared up at the ceiling. He could barely make out the tiny dents in the textured overhead wall, even as his eyes adjusted to the pitch-black darkness. It felt like he was in a physical manifestation of the void that was consuming him from the inside-out. The darkness seemed to surround Jongdae on every side, ready to tear him apart and trample him down until he was a scattered pile of ashes.

Jongdae wondered when he would stop feeling like he was on the verge of collapse, when he would stop feeling like there was no more oxygen in his lungs, when he would stop feeling like the ground would shatter like glass beneath his feet at any given moment.

Because he had finally reached his breaking point.

There was no way he could do this anymore.

Not when his mind and soul were breaking into bits and pieces as time steadily ticked by, second by second.

Lying awake at three in the morning for nights on end, unable to sleep because his mind was swirling with more thoughts than he could keep track of.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, eyes anxiously poring over every imperfection that marred his face and his body.

Replaying every interaction over and over again, trying to figure out what he had done wrong so that he could fix the problem.

Unless the problem really did just lie with how he looked. How he naturally acted. How he inherently was as a person.

Tears began surging at the corners of his eyes again and Jongdae had to press his arm against his mouth in order to muffle the sob that threatened to tear from his throat, thus preventing Kyungsoo from hearing him break down just a few rooms away. He couldn’t keep bothering Kyungsoo with his problems, especially knowing that his housemate was dealing with a myriad of issues of his own as well. As much as Jongdae wanted to cry in someone’s arms, he knew he couldn’t dump more onto Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He couldn’t be a burden to someone else.

After all, that was how he drove away Yixing in the first place.

By being a nuisance.

A burden.

An offensive piece of garbage.

Jongdae had to press his fingers into his arm, completely ignoring how his nails were creating angry red crescent-shaped indents against his ghostly-white skin, to ground himself and keep his mind from spiraling even more than it already had.

After all, Mingen had reassured him over and over again that Yixing wasn’t offended by Jongdae. That Yixing held no ill will towards Jongdae.

And there was no reason not to trust Mingen. He and Yixing were cousins. Considering how Yixing was an only child and viewed his relatives like his nuclear family because of how they had all been brought up together in such close proximity, it didn’t get any closer than that for him.

No one knew Yixing better than Mingen did.

Even so, Jongdae couldn’t help but let his gut instinct influence his thoughts, especially those centered on Yixing and how the Chinese male had been seemingly distant from him for the past month.

Ever since they had met up in person for the first time, finally able to match a face to the voice they’d been hearing on group calls for months.

As a social recluse, Jongdae had already been feeling nervous about joining Mingen and Henry for a spontaneous summer outing, despite having known Henry for several years now after developing multiple indie video games together in college. Mingen was one of Henry’s childhood friends and had been invited to many Valorant lobbies to fill a five-player lobby whenever Kyungsoo didn’t feel like gaming with the rest of his roommates.

Had it just been the two of them, perhaps Jongdae would’ve been able to adjust more easily. But the last-minute addition of Yixing flipped everything on its head in a split second.

Jongdae still didn’t know why it was such a big deal. It wasn’t like Yixing was necessarily a stranger to him. Before this whole mess even happened, Jongdae had truly believed they were friends.

It all started when their group had added Teamfight Tactics to their gaming rotation a few months ago, which was when Mingen had introduced Yixing and Zhenning for a full party of eight. While Zhenning had flitted in and out, similar to Kyungsoo, Yixing had been a constant presence. He had been quiet at first, but with enough coaxing from Mingen and Henry, Yixing’s bright laughter had soon become a staple in Jongdae’s evenings. It was vibrant and captivating in every way possible, and Jongdae had found himself laughing along every time Yixing did.

Soon, Yixing had begun messaging Jongdae on his own whenever the younger male queued alone after a long day of work, which had often led to the two males gaming together and chatting long into the night. Even though Yixing needed to be an early bird for work, he had regularly stayed up late to accompany Jongdae and mindlessly chat with him. It had felt like a friendship was starting to organically blossom between the two, to Jongdae’s delight.

But because Jongdae hated being on camera, the two of them had no idea what the other looked like until one month ago. Perhaps that was why suddenly meeting Yixing in person had elicited so much anxiety within the younger male that day. Perhaps that was why he had been unable to step more than a few feet away from Henry, clinging to the only semblance of true familiarity within the group.

And perhaps that was why Yixing didn’t want to be anywhere near Jongdae now, because he had blown up his one chance into smithereens with his abhorrent presence.

Maybe it would have been different if he had stood tall, head held high, and carried himself with the same air of confidence that his friends did.

Maybe it would have been different if he had done more to make Yixing feel comfortable and joked around with him like they used to.

Maybe it would have been different if he actually looked…nice…

Because, by god, Yixing was undeniably attractive and Jongdae knew he was a dumpster rat next to him.

But it was too little, too late.

At this point…it was all over.

Over before anything could really begin.

No matter what Mingen said, Jongdae noticed how Yixing never spoke a single word anymore whenever they all played games together. How Yixing only joined if Mingen and Zhenning were there. How Yixing immediately left if Mingen and Zhenning needed to turn in early, since they all worked full-time jobs.

And yet Yixing seemed to have no problem joining Lu Han or Zitao’s games on his own, gaming with them for hours even after Mingen and Zhenning left to do other things.

Jongdae knew it was stupid and silly to be so fixated on Yixing hanging out with other friends. Yixing was allowed spend his time with whoever he liked. It wasn’t like Jongdae ever meant much to him in the first place.

But it still stung Jongdae’s chest whenever he did try to engage Yixing, to no avail. Whenever Yixing disappeared from their calls like a ghost, barely there even when he was connected. And at the end of it all, it just hurt to know that something had changed after they had met up last month.

Because even though Jongdae was foolishly irrational, he wasn’t blind. He wasn’t deaf. And while he may have been overreacting and overthinking all of Yixing’s actions, all of the unsaid words, the Chinese male’s presence truly seemed like a phantom now. Constantly hanging over Jongdae’s head, but never truly there.

As quickly as he had come into Jongdae’s life, it now felt like Yixing was gradually disappearing from it. And soon, he would be nothing more than a memory.

An agonizing, twisted memory.

And Jongdae had absolutely no idea how to bring him back and convince him to stay.

Even though it was selfish on his part. Even though it was ridiculous to consider.

The thought of that prompted Jongdae to clutch his chest as the pain heightened and he curled into himself, tears streaking down his thin face like black ink spilling across a blank piece of parchment.

♈♈♈