RENJUN COULDN’T STOP STARING AT THE MONITOR OF HIS PHONE. His slim fingers couldn’t help but repetitively tapped on the flat blank screen, hoping it would somehow light up and buzz out a small ring. He sighed deeply, resting his cheek on his other palm, as his elbow stabbed the Huang’s dinner table. It had only been around twelve hours since the incident at Jaemin’s figure skate championship, and it somehow punctured Renjun’s heart when he still haven’t got any messages from the brunet male. Not like he was expecting one. And that was why he started the conversation off himself.

Still keeping his sharp sight on his electronic device, Renjun then crossed his arms and folded his feet on the high dinner chair. Mrs. Huang, who was busy washing the dishes noticed how overly strange her son was acting and shook her head.

“Who are you expecting to get a text from? Jaemin?”

The ginger haired groaned, throwing his head slackly onto the table, banging his forehead hard.

His mother lightly snorted, continuing to scrub the dirty plate she had in hand with a bubbled filled sponge. She then rinsed it with the running water, and neatly placed it on the drying rack.

“Something happened between you two again, didn’t it?” She said, soaking her hands back into the dishes.

Renjun hummed groggily, “I hate it when it happens.”

The ageing lady had her curly auburn hair rolled into a bun, wearing her usual pink kitchen apron over her casual clothes; a plain t- and a pair of grey joggers. She tittered at her son’s words, “Renjun dear, have I told you about the time me and my best friend ran a crochet club together?”

The male on the table couldn’t help but rolled his eyes in endless circles, “A million times. And then you and her got into a fight, your club broke up then your ex-boyfriend stole your car and ran away with your best friend to Mexico.” He ranted in a melodic tone, almost making it seem like a song, “Or was it Spain?”

Freezing, the women near the sink bit her lip and raised her eyebrows, murmuring to herself, “I need to get other stories.”

Renjun shrugged his shoulders, “Most of your stories end up with you getting dumped, mom,” He said, over hearing her, “Except when dad proposed. Even he broke up with you first before giving you the ring!”

His mother glared at him, “Well, that boyfriend never actually ended things with me.”

“But he did, indirectly. Did you ever see him again? No, right?”

Drying her hands on her frilly apron, Mrs. Huang sighed at her son’s words and creased Renjun’s shoulders. He still had a drowning frown on his face, cheeks sinking, still staring down at his phone that lied on the table. Guess that didn’t really cheered him up.

“Let’s…take the moral of the story,” She said, hugging him from behind the chair, while ruffling Renjun’s honey led hair.

The lad straightened his lips, “Don’t trust boyfriend thieves?”

The elderly lady chuckled and gave Renjun a funny look. “No!” She trailed her hands on her son’s thin cheeks and his face, “If my best friend and I had actually made up, the club wouldn’t have broken up,” She said, “And my car wouldn’t have been stolen—”

“And your boyfriend wouldn’t—”

“The point is, make it up before it’s too late.” She cut him off, and smiled sweetly, “You and Jaemin are really lucky to still have a very tight friendship. Not a lot usually get along as well as you guys when the elastic band gets looser. You better make it up before it’s too late.”

“But mom,” Renjun mumbled, “He’s the one at fault.”

“That’s not an excuse, Renjun,” Mrs. Huang said, “Even if it is, go up to him first. I’m sure he has something to say to you.”

Renjun looked down at his lap. His mom clearly doesn’t know that he had already made the first move. He texted Jaemin earlier that day, asking if the lad had time to talk this late afternoon. Renjun was waiting for a response, but it didn’t look like Jaemin was going to answer him anytime sooner. Maybe the other was busy, but doing what? There was a chance that Jaemin had done something stupid, which would make his mom have him sit in time out or take away his phone. But she would know Jaemin was too old for that.

Scrunching his chin, Renjun rubbed his teeth together. If the younger doesn’t answer in half an hour, maybe he could walk to his house and get him to talk to him somewhere like the park nearby. The younger would do it, he was after all the reason for Renjun’s heart to be piercing with pain and agony, aching from what he had done. Jaemin was the main fault. And he knew that the male was bold enough to actually say something to him.

“You understand, Renjun?” His mother stern, still holding her son’s face.

Renjun slowly nodded, getting a sharp pinch at the end of his nose from the ageing lady while she cooed, “That’s my son!” She cheered.

Rubbing his hurt nose, Renjun groaned at the pain. His phone on the table buzzed, flashing Jaemin’s contact name on his screen. Then, a small grin appeared on his lips.
 

—

Renjun was feeling a bit queasy. The late chilly afternoon didn’t really bothered him much and wasn’t really the reason for his stomach to be doing endless summersaults all around the place. He wasn’t sure what was. Could it be because he was nervous to see Jaemin and own up to him, or was he afraid on what the younger had to say for him?

Just around half an hour ago, while he was in the kitchen and his mom was tryin