#chenle fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do.

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because.

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor.

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight.

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair.

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place.

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space.

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed.

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…?

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea.

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station.

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did.

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory.

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront.

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again.

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase.

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18.

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court.

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend.

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way.

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game.

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years.

“What about you?”

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before.

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much.

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac.

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob.

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road.

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck.

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect.

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next…

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again.

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech.

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun.

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport.

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago.

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression.

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips.

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it.

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety.

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know.

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him.

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals.

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?”

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?”

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room.

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms.

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction.

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off.

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead.

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all.

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair.

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips.

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side.

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time.

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid.

But for a second, he acts like he is.

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.”

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?”

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair.

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?”

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused.

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding, “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie.

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair.

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness.

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?”

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion.

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?”

“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future.

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal.

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would.

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it.

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out.

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct x reader #chenle x reader #chenle angst #chenle fluff #chenle oneshot #chenle fic #chenle imagine #chenle fanfic #chenle best friends to lovers #chenle au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct angst

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galacticseonghwa · 6 months

Note

Hey hun!

I just spent a good chunk of my mortality giggling and kicking my feet at your BF!Chenle texts, and I wanted to know if there could be a part 4 please😭 👉🏾👈🏾 obviously please don't feel pressured ♡

Zhong Chenle bf texts pt.4

hi my love! ofc i can do that! i hope you like these ones <3

INCLUDES: swearing, pet names, suggestive content, 3am thoughts, it’s all over the place icl😭, kms used as a joke so WARNING there

a/n: not proofread

#galacticseonghwa #nct dream #nct #chenle #zhong chenle #nct chenle #nctzen #chenle fic #chenle texts #chenle smut

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jaelvr · 24 days

Text

Seasons

Home | NCT Dream masterlist |

Requested : no

Prompts ; 10. “Am I your favourite?” “I like your dog a bit more than you, I won’t lie.” + 31.“I know it’s your favorite.”

Pairing : boyfriend! Chenle x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff

Word count : 400

Warnings : mutual feelings, established relationship, idol au, fluff, slightly ooc

Have a great day !!

——————————

"Alright, alright." he chuckled softly as Daegal barked, alerting him of the knocks at the door as she spun around in circles. "Hey." you smiled softly as he opened the door, taking in his appearance. You'd decided to pick up his favourite food and surprise Chenle, having not seen him for a few days due to his busy promotions and knowing how stressed he was, this was the best idea you could come up with. "Brought food. I know it's your favourite." you grinned, holding the bag of food from his favourite restaurant. He stood still for a moment, mouth agape in shock before he brought you into his arms, hugging you tightly while he buried his head into your neck.

"You're an angel." he murmured, pressing a gentle peck to your neck. A content hum left your lips as your hand scratched his scalp, pecking his forehead. "Let's go eat before it gets cold, and then we can do whatever you want, yeah?" you mumbled, caressing his cheek. He nodded, stepping aside for you to walk in and taking the bag off you, allowing you to take your coat and shoes off while he set the food up. He felt the tenseness leave his body as he heard your giggles and Daegal immediately ran over, barking and jumping at you, trying to cover you in kisses. "Hi pretty girl." you cooed, bending down to pick her up and stroke her, unaware of the lovestruck gaze on Chenle's face as he watched you two.

"Y'know, I'm starting to think you like her more than you like me." he joked, a soft smile on his face while you put her down. You laughed, shaking your head as you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist and perching your head on his shoulder, watching while he finished dishing the food out. "You're my favourite." you tried to assure, the mischievous smile on your face telling him otherwise. "Am I your favourite?" he asked, eyebrow raised as he looked at you. “I like your dog a bit more than you, I won’t lie.” you admitted, letting out a yelp as he started tickling your sides and covering your face in gentle, sweet kisses.

He wouldn't trade this for the world.

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weirdkpopgirl · 5 months

Text

Friends Who Kiss | Chenle Fic #1

Title: Friends Who Kiss

Genre: Best friends to lovers, high school/college au

Warnings: mentions of the reader being insecure and having a mental breakdown at some point. a little suggestive, but not really

Word Count: ~ 5.6k

Author's Note: Okay to be very honest, I think that this story is kinda stupid and cliché. But it was an idea that I still wanted to try writing. And this is my first full-length fic for Chenle too, so I'm happy to post something for him. So to those who like cheesy romance stories, I hope you enjoy this. Thank you for reading ^ ^

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Since the start of high school, Zhong Chenle has been a consistent part of your life. He arrived as a transfer student from Shanghai, while you were the reserved kid who often used studying as an excuse to avoid social interaction. So rather than you reaching out to him first, it was he who practically claimed you as his best friend. Your personalities were a striking contrast, but it proved to be the perfect balance. It didn't take long for the two of you to become inseparable.

However, your friendship took a turn in eleventh grade. You guys had gone to your house after school to do homework. Except it was mostly you working on assignments, while Chenle was animatedly ranting about some mobile game Jisung was terrible at playing.

“It’s unbelievable! Every time I check his character gets killed,” Chenle laughed, and you responded with a soft hum of acknowledgment.

The boy glanced up from his phone to find you engrossed in your textbooks. While your attention was focused on writing an essay, you were also trying to keep your mind from drifting to the unsettling conversation you had during lunch that day. Typically, you and Chenle sat together with his friends. But Jisung needed the boy’s help stalking his crush, so you found yourself sitting with some of the girls in your class.

Sensing the inner conflict brewing in your mind, Chenle rose from the bed and leaned over your shoulder.

“You've been at this since we got here. How is your brain not fried?” he asked, blunt as usual.

You shot the boy with an unappreciative glare. “It is fried. But our essay is due on Monday, and I still have to help you with yours.”

Chenle sighed, well aware of your enduring determination. Ever since he met you, he couldn’t understand why you stressed so much over assignments, especially when you always completed them before the due date. Then you somehow managed to go out of your way to ensure he was doing the same.

“You’re more than halfway finished, and I’ll get to mine on my own time,” He reassured, “Why don’t you take a break for now?”

Before you could protest, Chenle swiftly pulled you out of your chair and guided you to sit on the bed with him. Worry clouded his gaze. “Something’s troubling you, isn’t it?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip, hating how Chenle knew you so well. He didn’t have a problem sharing what was on his mind, while you were the exact opposite. Yet, even a single look at you was enough for him to detect something was off.

“The girls at lunch were going on about their dating experiences and stuff,” you began to explain, your tone tinged with irritation at the memory. “They were all so surprised when I said I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

You pushed yourself to meet Chenle's gaze, half dreading that he might burst into laughter. Instead, his expression held a hint of amusement, and that alone made you regret bringing up the topic.

Before he could respond, you hurriedly attempted to backtrack on your words. “It's stupid, I know—”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you upset,” Chenle said firmly.

Leaning back in your seat, you let out an exasperated sigh. “I just can’t get their judgmental looks out of my head. All because I don’t have much experience with dating?”

Chenle's expression softened as he confessed, "There's nothing wrong with that, and there’s a lot of people like you. I haven't had my first kiss either."

“Really?!” You stared at him in disbelief. “Didn't you date Ko Mi-so though?”

Chenle scoffed, appearing slightly offended. “Okay, that happened such a long time ago. And we didn't even last a month, so we never kissed.”

Now that you thought about it, he was right about their relationship ending almost as quickly as it began. You recalled the time back in tenth grade when Chenle was quite smug about dating Mi-so, who happened to be the prettiest girl in class. Frankly, you were somewhat relieved when they broke up, given that she didn't particularly like you. Chenle hasn’t dated anyone since.

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” your voice trailed off.

The boy stayed silent for a moment before an idea dawned on him. “You know what? Why don’t we have our first kiss now?”

Your cheeks felt like they were competing for a world record in how quickly they heated up at Chenle's proposal. He couldn't possibly be serious.

“Did I hear you right?” you stammered, thoroughly taken aback by the suggestion.

Chenle nodded confidently, “I mean, we're best friends, so it's not that weird. And it's better than kissing someone we don't know as well or not have a connection with.”

You could kind of see his point. Having Chenle as your first kiss did seem much safer than kissing some random guy. Besides, it wasn’t like either of you had any underlying feelings for each other. This would solely be for practice.

“Alright,” you reluctantly agreed, “But you have to promise not to make fun of me if I turn out to be a bad kisser."

Chenle chuckled and nodded. He inched closer to you on the bed, leaving little space between the two of you. Although he saw you every day, having your face this near made a faint blush tinge his cheeks.

He started to lean in more before pausing. "Um, maybe you should close your eyes."

"Oh—right," you mumbled awkwardly, then took a deep breath before allowing your eyelids to shut.

He had to suppress a chuckle, finding you kinda cute in that moment. Before you had a chance to second-guess yourself, Chenle pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. Shortly after, he drew back, searching for your reaction.

“So, how was that?” He asked, voice laced with teasing.

You stared at him incredulously for a moment before realizing he was waiting for you to answer. “I suppose it was okay,” you mumbled.

Chenle tilted his head with an amused grin. “Just okay?”

“Yeah, I guess I didn't feel much because we're not really into each other like that,” you admitted with a nonchalant shrug.

Okay, you might have partially lied about not feeling much during the kiss. Truth be told, there was this strange, fluttery sensation in your chest when your best friend's lips grazed yours. But perhaps all first kisses were like that, and you were simply overthinking it.

The boy beside you let out a hearty laugh. “Well at least we got that over with.”

You had to muster all your self-control not to blush when he followed up with, “And you're not a bad kisser, by the way.”

Believing that the experiment was over, the two of you returned to your previous tasks. Nothing changed much after that day in your bedroom, as you and Chenle remained best friends. But little did you realize that this wouldn't be the last kiss you'd be sharing with him.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Despite your previous attempts to justify it, the second kiss you shared with Chenle happened partially because of you. As your senior year of high school unfolded, Chenle prepared for his performance at the spring festival. It was you who initially urged him to participate in the talent show. The countless times you had witnessed his piano playing and singing during your private moments together convinced you that he should share his talents with the world. Your compliments not only fueled Chenle’s ego but also prompted him to eagerly jot his name down on the sign-up sheet.

However, what you didn’t expect was to find him backstage, looking as pale as a ghost. He was supposed to go after a group of girls who were dancing to Red Velvet’s “Red Flavor.” With the intention of cheering him on in person, you spotted the dark-haired boy sitting on a chair, anxiously bouncing his legs.

“Last-minute jitters?" you asked softly.

Chenle glanced up at you and crossed his arms in a nonchalant manner. “What, me? I'm fine,” he replied, though his tone lacked conviction.

Just as Chenle knew you like the back of his hand, you were among the few who could read him. While he was partially correct about never being nervous, it didn't take an idiot to perceive that he was in that moment. It was evident he was trying to play it off to uphold his confident image.

One aspect that troubled you about Chenle was his constant facade of cheerfulness and carefree demeanor. No one could genuinely be happy all the time, and he was the kind of person who concealed his negative feelings when around others.

After deliberating on how to address the situation, you gently rested your hand on his shoulder, bringing yourself to eye level with him.

“Hey, you’re going to be amazing out there,” you reassured him. “I’ve seen how many hours you put into practicing that song. You have nothing to worry about.”

Chenle let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, you're right.”

The smile he bestowed upon you didn't quite convince you. Biting your lip in hesitation, you glanced around to ensure no one else was nearby. Once you were sure that you were alone, you leaned down and gently planted a kiss on the boy’s forehead. Chenle’s eyes widened in surprise at your actions.

“What was that for?”

Blushing, you took a step back and stammered, “Just for good luck, you know. I—I’ll be right there in the crowd, watching you. So if you feel nervous on stage, just look at me.”

A more reassured smile spread across Chenle’s lips and before he stood up to swiftly peck you on the lips, leaving you more stunned than he was a few seconds ago.

“There, I definitely feel more ready now,” he declared with a teasing glint. And the smug Chenle you were familiar with had returned.

As Chenle’s playfulness lingered in the air, the sound of the audience clapping erupted for the girls, putting an end to your “moment.” With a knowing look, you both parted ways, allowing Chenle to step into the spotlight for his performance.

As he took the stage, you found a spot in the crowd, eyes fixed on him with awe. The rhythm of the applause filled the air, drowning out any lingering thoughts. In that moment, the stage became his world, and you couldn't help but be swept away by the magic of his talent. The earlier exchange faded into the background as you watched Chenle shine, each note and melody weaving a captivating spell that left you in admiration.

Neither of you mentioned the kiss after that day. The interaction remained more platonic than anything, a gesture that was only meant to show your support for him. But Chenle still liked to think he killed the stage because of it.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Chenle was undeniably responsible for the next time the two of you kissed. However, this particular incident didn't unfold until the first semester of your freshman year in college. The joy of discovering you both had been accepted into the same university was palpable, though Chenle appeared to be more exuberant about the news. In contrast, you felt a sense of relief, grateful that you wouldn't be venturing into the world of college alone.

In one of your classes, a sunbae began to show interest in you. Despite your attempts to politely reject him, it became apparent that he wasn't willing to accept no for an answer.

One day after class, he cornered you in the hallway, insisting that you go out with him. As you tried to maintain your composure, he grabbed you by the wrist when you tried to walk away. The harsh move triggered internal panic within you.

You could sense the danger in his tone as his head tilted cockily. “Come on, (Y/n), don’t be so difficult. I know you’re just playing hard to get.”

“I—I’m sorry but I just don’t feel the same as you, Sunbae,” you stuttered, trying to be assertive. “Please let go.”

Refusing to relent, the sunbae was on the verge of pulling you in closer when another hand intervened, forcefully ripping you out of his grasp. Your head turned in astonishment to see Chenle casting a disgusted look at the guy in front of you. The flames in Chenle’s eyes made you realize that you had never seen him so livid before.

“She said to let go of her. What part of that do you not understand?” Chenle’s voice cut through the tension.

The sunbae scoffed and crossed his arms in defense, “Yah, who are you to involve yourself in someone else’s matters? Are you her boyfriend or something?”

You watched as the corner of Chenle’s lips turned into a smirk as he snaked an arm around your waist in a protective gesture.

“That’s right. So who are you to go after another man’s girlfriend?” he retorted confidently. Your eyes widened, almost surprised as the jerk in front of you.

Shaking his head in a mix of disbelief and embarrassment, the sunbae pointed a finger at you. “This is a joke, right? You just asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend to mess with me!”

Before you could respond, Chenle took matters into his own hands. His free hand briskly moved to the back of your neck, drawing you in for a passionate kiss. In a typical situation, your best friend's impulsive actions might have freaked you out immediately. However, the way his fingers delicately pressed against your back reassured you that he was doing this for your sake, Closing your eyes, you kissed back and tried to reciprocate with the same passion Chenle was pouring.

Moments later, Chenle pulled away and turned to the sunbae, wearing a satisfied grin on his face. “Do you believe her now? Not that she has to prove anything to you.”

The older male muttered begrudgingly under his breath, “Whatever, not worth my time.”

With a scowl, he stormed off, leaving behind a palpable sense of relief in the wake of his departure. Once he was gone, you removed yourself from Chenle's hold and shot him a look of confusion.

“You know you didn’t have to do that right?”

Chenle chuckled, “Well, someone had to put an end to his nonsense. Besides, I've always wanted to play the protective boyfriend card.”

“Protective boyfriend? You almost gave me a heart attack!” You smacked him on the shoulder.

Chenle’s smirk remained, but he adopted a more concerned tone. “But seriously, (Y/n), why didn’t you tell me he was bothering you earlier?”

“I thought I could handle things on my own.” You shrugged weakly, lowering your head in guilt.

Chenle sighed, recognizing your aversion to depending on others for your problems. Throughout the time he’d known you, he'd witnessed your willingness to go to great lengths to help those you cared about. However, when it came to your own struggles, you seemed to prefer suffering in silence.

“We’re best friends for a reason,” he reminded you, “Looking after each other is 50/50, you know?”

You offered him a small smile, “I guess you’re right. Thanks for saving me today.”

“Well, you can thank me by buying food tonight,” Chenle said, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “It’s your turn anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you let him lead you out of the building. But Chenle’s words from earlier lingered in the back of your mind. “We’re best friends for a reason.”

The two of you were the epitome of what best friends were. And that was all the two of you would ever be, right?

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

At this point, you were beginning to lose count of the number of times you’ve kissed your best friend. Despite this, your friendship maintained its familiar rhythm throughout the university. But after that hallway encounter, the awkwardness that came with kissing your best friend faded. Although it was more of Chenle seeming unfazed, and you becoming less surprised each time it happened. And indeed, there were a few more instances that caused your lips to meet.

Like the time Chenle excitedly dragged you to his dorm to watch a Golden State Warriors game, and, in the heat of the moment, he gave you a quick kiss before cheering some more. Then there was the other time when you both went out for drinks with friends, a few drunken kisses were shared.

There weren't any real feelings attached to the kisses you and Chenle shared. At least, that was what you repeatedly told yourself. However, as you were halfway through your first year of university, you finally started to question the true nature of your friendship with Zhong Chenle.

Those thoughts began to sink in just before your first finals in college. Isolated in your dorm room, you immersed yourself in studying for a math exam scheduled in three days. Calls and texts from friends went largely ignored as you turned off your phone in an attempt to focus. However, Chenle wasn't about to let that slide.

One night, he let himself into your dorm, carrying a bag of your favorite takeout—knowing well that you tended to skip meals when stressed. You could see the determination in his face, ready to scold you. But the expression quickly transitioned to one of concern when he caught you on the verge of a breakdown.

You sat at your desk surrounded by textbooks and notebooks filled with scribbled equations. The sight of your trembling body and slightly tousled hair, a result of pulling on it too hard, tugged at Chenle’s heart. He was well aware of how your anxiety affected you at times. But he had never witnessed it manifest quite like this.

Instantly, the bag was placed on the floor, and he was at your side. “(Y/n), what's wrong?"

“I—I'm going to fail my calc final,” you swallowed, your fingers curling into fists. Your shoulders slumped, and the weight of despair was evident in the way you hunched over the desk.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, attempting to calm you down. “You still have a few weeks before finals, (Y/n). And you’re not going to fail.”

“Yes, I am!” you cut him off, your voice strained. Tears welled up in your eyes, and your hands clenched even tighter. “I’ve been studying for days, and my dumb brain still doesn't understand anything. Do you know how stupid I feel?”

“Being bad at math doesn’t make you stupid, (Y/n),” Chenle said, trying to inject a bit of lightheartedness into the situation. However, his comment didn’t seem to offer you any comfort.

You shook your head miserably in response. “Stop trying to be nice. I'm going to fail, and then I’ll end up letting down my parents and everyone else.”

Chenle’s heart ached at the defeat in your voice. Setting his jokes aside, he recognized that words weren’t what you needed at the moment. Instead, he enveloped you in a warm embrace. You hesitated only briefly before surrendering to his comforting hold, attempting to fight back tears.

“Just let it out,” he whispered.

Those simple words acted as an emotional release trigger, and Chenle found himself gently rubbing your back as you quietly cried into his shoulder. A sense of mixed emotions flooded him as he held you in that moment. A part of him felt a twinge of relief, grateful that you let him be there for you. You often kept your emotions bottled up, making it a challenge for him to discern how you truly felt at times.

However, there was a pang of sadness accompanying that satisfaction. He knew you didn't just cry in front of anyone, and realizing that you had reached this breaking point signaled the depth of your struggle.

After a while, Chenle gently pulled back, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You need a break, (Y/n). Let’s step away from the desk for a bit.”

"No, I really should—" you began to protest, but Chenle cut you off.

"You really should eat the food I brought you before it gets cold," he insisted, picking up the bag again.

He led you to sit on the carpet of your cramped dorm room, creating a makeshift dining space for the two of you. As you both shared a meal, Chenle continued to provide a comforting presence, occasionally cracking a joke to lighten the atmosphere.

As the night wore on, the exhaustion in your eyes became more prominent. Even so, you knew you should go back to studying. But Chenle seemed to disagree.

“Maybe you should just rest for the night. I promise to help you with math in the morning,” he suggested. However, upon seeing the unconvinced look you gave him, he backtracked on his words. “Okay, I'll have Renjun help you.”

Too tired to argue, you gave in, and that's how you found yourself lying in bed with your best friend. Back in high school, you used to have sleepovers at his house on the weekends. At night, the two of you would be lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and talking about anything. However, having him beside you at that moment felt strange.

You saw a sincere tenderness reflected in those large eyes of his. A part of you wondered if Chenle often gazed at you with such fondness and you simply hadn’t noticed before. Either way, the way he was looking at you made you feel even stranger. And the short silence that had settled between the two of you wasn’t helping.

Uncertain of how much longer you could endure the intensity, you broke eye contact with him and murmured, “Thank you for always being there for me, even when I try to push you away”

Chenle chuckled, adjusting his position to prop himself up on his elbow. “Well, of course, because how could you live without me?”

His ability to joke at a time like this struck you as unfathomable. Instead of the usual eye roll or pushing off the bed, a serious expression remained etched on your face.

“You're right, I don't think I can live without you,” you said, your voice laced with drowsiness. “Because you’re one of the few people who truly care about me.”

The amusement in his eyes danced away, as he felt the gravity of your words. Something about seeing this vulnerable side of you was so beautiful in his eyes. Before he could fully process his own thoughts, Chenle found himself leaning in to close the space between you with his lips meeting your own.

Uncertain whether it was the leftover stress from your meltdown or the sleep deprivation that prompted you to kiss back without much thought. You could recall all the times you’ve kissed Chenle throughout the years. But this one would always stand out to you.

This kiss lasted a lot longer than your previous ones. But it wasn’t just the way he tilted your chin upward for a better angle, or the feeling of his dark locks of hair slipping between your fingers. Nor was it the soft pressure of his lips moving in sync with yours. It was the indescribable emotions that made time seem to stand still, weaving an unspoken connection that surpassed words and left you yearning for more.

Aside from pulling away, both of you gasping for breath, and noticing how Chenle's lips were redder than you had ever seen them, you vaguely recalled what happened after the kiss. When you woke up the next morning, Chenle was already gone. However, he had left you a text message, mentioning that he went to check if Renjun could help tutor you in math.

But math was no longer the sole stressor in your mind. Your best friend had kissed you last night, and unlike all the other times, this one left you feeling more confused than ever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

True to his word, Renjun offered to meet up with you that Sunday afternoon at the campus library. Within an hour of sitting down to unravel the calculus concept that eluded you, Renjun finally helped you grasp the material. Although the looming fear of failing finals had diminished, you still felt a weight on your shoulders.

“You don’t seem as relieved as I thought you’d be,” Renjun remarked lightheartedly. Even he could tell your mind was preoccupied with something else.

You smiled sheepishly, “No, I am! I seriously owe you for helping me out. I just…”

“Is it something to do with Chenle?” he asked, almost like he was a mind reader.

His unexpected question caught you off guard. “How did you know?” you stammered, feeling the heat quickly rise to your cheeks.

A knowing smile played on the boy’s lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Oh come on, (Y/n). You have that look on your face that something happened between the two of you.”

Sometimes you seriously wished Renjun wasn’t so good at reading people. Even though you weren’t as close to him as Chenle was, he’s known you long enough to notice things that others wouldn’t. For instance, when something was troubling you.

Biting your lip, you debated whether to be truthful with Renjun. Although you didn't typically share your problems with others, you recognized that confiding in someone at a time like this was necessary to maintain your sanity.

“Chenle kissed me last night,” you tossed the statement out in the air, hoping you wouldn’t regret it.

Renjun’s eyes widened at this revelation, “He did?!”

“Well you see, we’ve kissed before. But this time it felt different,” you clarified, baffling the boy across from you even more. Internally cringing, you were acutely aware of how bad this sounded.

Before he could question, you continued to elaborate. “Look, it's not as complicated as it sounds. It’s just ever since we agreed to be each other’s first kiss, Chenle and I just keep having these…accidental kisses. Whether it’s out of excitement or to get guys hitting on me to go away.”

Renjun listened quietly as you recounted all the other times you’ve kissed Chenle. When you circled back to the previous night, you felt more conflicted than ever.

“But the kiss last night left me feeling so confused,” you confessed, running a hand through your hair. “Initially, I thought he was just doing it out of comfort, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, have you considered the possibility that he has feelings for you?” Renjun inquired, crossing his arms. His suggestion sounded so simple, yet it felt like navigating uncharted territory in your mind.

You shook your head in denial. “N—No, I mean we’ve been best friends for five years. He can’t possibly see me that way.”

“Like that’s ever stopped friends from falling for each other,” Renjun cocked his head. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that he likes you, (Y/n).”

His point made you mentally curse. If you looked at your history with Chenle from an objective point of view, the two of you certainly didn’t act like normal best friends.

“And, it’s pretty obvious that you like him too,” Renjun added, twirling the pencil between his fingers.

His statement left you feeling exposed, as if you had been caught red-handed committing a crime. Laughing nervously, you shook your head, “Renjun, we’re just friends. I…I don’t see him that way.”

Renjun raised an eyebrow, “Friends who kiss? Did you really not feel anything in those moments?”

Your teeth sank further into your lower lip as Renjun’s question hit you. The reality of your feelings for Chenle lingered in the air, challenging the facade you had built to convince yourself otherwise. It was like trying to hold sand in your fists, slipping away no matter how tightly you clenched. The truth, however inconvenient, seemed to be unraveling before you.

“I…I did feel something,” you slowly admitted, “But I never said anything because I didn’t want our friendship to change. It just seemed easier to pretend those moments were nothing more than accidents.”

Renjun’s eyes softened with understanding. “Well maybe a little change is what you need in your friendship.”

Maybe Renjun was onto something, perhaps change was necessary. In the past, you had always held out on dating, using the excuse that you were waiting for the right person. Despite the fear of potential rejection, what if Chenle was the person you had been waiting for all along?

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Chenle’s living room bathed in the gentle glow of the TV screen, a familiar sight during your Friday movie nights since college began. It was supposed to be a time to unwind, to escape the pressures of school for a little while. However, instead of the usual peaceful and easygoing atmosphere, an unspoken tension hung in the air tonight. Beyond picking a movie and deciding who made the popcorn, you and Chenle barely talked. The weight of the unspoken words made the space feel suffocating, and you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in your chest.

Unable to endure the weighty silence any longer, you turned your head to make a lame comment about the movie. However, before you could speak, Chenle beat you to it.

“Can we talk?” His voice carried a hint of restlessness, an unusual departure from his usual tone.

Trying to maintain a casual demeanor, you lightly nodded. With your acknowledgment, Chenle exhaled deeply and sat up straighter to face you properly.

“I know how crazy this might sound,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “But I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we can stay friends.”

His words felt like a gun being pointed at your chest, panic surged within you as you tried to process the boy’s words. Of all the ways you predicted this conversation could go, this was not one of them.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice even smaller than his.

Noticing the perplexity in your eyes, Chenle continued. “You see, I've been in love with you for—I don’t know how long. But I spent all these years burying my feelings like a fool, because I never thought you’d see me that way. Yet, every time we kiss, it becomes harder for me to ignore my feelings for you.”

Chenle glanced down at his folded hands, vulnerability seeping into those brown orbs of his. “The other night made me realize that I don’t want to just be friends who kiss anymore. I want to be something more to you.”

His words lingered in the air now that they were out in the open. Your heart raced faster than it ever has before, as your cheeks flushed with heat. Chenle’s eyes bore into yours, his expression nervous yet hopeful.

For a moment, you were left speechless. But you still had the sense to hit him on the shoulder, scolding, “Oh my gosh, you can’t start a conversation like that, Chenle. You scared me!”

The boy chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. But seriously, (Y/n), I meant what I said.”

A mix of emotions played on your face before you quietly admitted, “Honestly, I’ve wanted to be something more to you since that day we kissed in my bedroom.”

You noticed a smile of relief beginning to form on his lips, but you held up a finger before he could say anything. Now that he had taken the first step, you decided it was time for you to do the same.

“But I kept trying to convince myself that all the times we kissed were accidental or just for comfort,” you confessed, looking directly into his eyes. “And the reason I’ve been pushing away my feelings for you was because I was afraid of losing a friend who means the world to me.”

His hand rested on top of yours, the light touch sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to be afraid because you’ll never lose me, (Y/n).”

The softness and sincerity in his eyes made you want to cry for some inexplicable reason. You once believed that confessing your feelings for Chenle would only lead to frustration and heartbreak. However, as you sat here with him, holding his hand, those worries seemed to vanish.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked, unsure of what was supposed to come next in these situations.

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he grinned. “I think this is the part where we kiss. But you know, as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Just as you were processing his words, he moved closer, his breath warm against your skin, making your heart flutter. His eyes searched yours for permission.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” you whispered.

With that, the distance between you closed, and your lips met in a tender kiss. It was a sweet surrender, a culmination of years of friendship and suppressed feelings. Although this wasn’t your first kiss with Chenle, it felt that way in a sense. For you could finally savor the tender feeling of his lips without questioning the intention behind it.

In that moment, all you focused on was the way Chenle had his hand on the small of your back, guiding you closer as he deepened the kiss. Your fingers found their way to rest on the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Although the change in this dynamic had just begun, this newfound connection promised countless moments of shared laughter, whispered confessions, and the sweet warmth of shared kisses. You had a feeling that you could easily get used to this beautiful new normal. By the way Chenle smiled during the kiss, you could tell he felt the same way.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

#nct dream #kpop #nctzen #czennie #nct dream imagines #chenle imagine #chenle fic #nct dream fic #chenle x reader #zhong chenle #nct scenarios #kpop fic #nct dream x reader #chenle #chenle scenarios

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haespoir · 10 months

Text

friends to lovers texts w/ chenle

req: by anon 💌

#nct #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct social media au #nct imagines #chenle #zhong chenle #chenle texts #chenle scenarios #chenle smau #chenle fluff #chenle fic #chenle au #chenle x reader #nct dream texts #nct dream fluff #nct dream smau #nct fic #nct texts

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ilwonuu · 1 month

Note

how chenle acts when he has a crush on you? lets say his crush is easily talks to others so they’re friends with nct

yes yes!!!! chenle is one of my ults neow i love him so bad!!! thank you for your request! lmk what you think<3

gave you all my love

જ⁀➴. zhong chenle

༺ pairing- best friend! chenle x non binary! reader

༺ warnings- fluffy, crushes, a lil affection

༺ a/n- i loved writing this. i LOVE this style of writing. i like this a lot lmk what u think<3

chenle who always sits by you when you out with your friends. doesn’t matter if it subtle or not, chenle with be next to you.

chenle who opens the door for you to the restaurant you’re at. receiving a glare from jeno when chenle doesnt open the door for him.

chenle who is always offering to pay for you. never letting you pay if his wallet is with him.

chenle who starts to text you more frequently. the two of you texting everyday. he would always check in with you after not seeing you for awhile. asking you to hangout with him soon.

chenle who always compliments you more when he sees you. always making sure to say something about what you’re wearing, your hair, your makeup, anything. “you look really pretty today.” “i like your hair today.” “new pants? they look cute on you.”

chenle who keeps you company at parties you guys attend with your friends. him flirting with you most of the party. causing you to leave the party with a pink tent to your cheeks.

chenle who would give you little gifts because “they remind him of you.” him knowing your interests very well from how long you two have been friends.

chenle who always offered for you to wear his clothes. he loves the way you look in his clothes making him like you more. always mentioning how cute you look.

chenle who loves to go on walks with you, especially now. you two walking around the city together. you wearing his hoodie of course.

chenle who loves to tease you about silly things. he loves to playfully bicker with you. but only with you.

chenle who asks mark and jeno to help him confess to you. him wanting it to be perfect.

chenle who plans a whole day just to ask you to be his partner. spending however much money it took to get it to where he thinks is perfect.

chenle who is more than relieved when you tell him of your reciprocated feelings.

#chenle #nct #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct dream #nct chenle #zhong chenle #chenle fluff #chenle fic #chenle scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct dream chenle #nct dream fluff

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ghostofhyuck · 5 days

Text

Gang AU Series 6

Gang leader! Zhong Chenle x Gang member’s younger sister! Reader

Summary: "Why can't you resent me?"

cw: mentions of death, and blood.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Yn Lee.”

You turned around and saw him. You freezed, hands tight on the hem of your apron. You knew him and how you two are the same-age. But the way he’s all roughed-up with his leather jacket in contrast to your plain sweater and apron, shows how your lives are different from each other.

“You know me,” you mumbled.

“You’re Mark Lee’s only sister,” he answered. “I’m Zhong Chenle.”

“What do you want?” you asked, trying to look calm, knowing that you two are in a public place.

“Can I have a spare of your time?” he asked. “I need to talk to you about your brother.”

You only pursed your lips, it’s been a week since your brother’s burial and as much as you want to cope with his death, the ghost of his past keeps on haunting you.

And that ghost is none other than Zhong Chenle.

“Is it important?” you asked, looking around the place. “It’s a busy hour for us —”

“Don’t worry about it yn,” your manager interrupted. “He already asked for my permission, go on.”

That’s how you found yourself at a table in front of Zhong Chenle. You watched as he took a sip of the iced coffee that he ordered, glancing at the window beside as if he’s admiring the view of the outside.

“Before Mark-hyung died, he asked if we could look after you,” Chenle started. “And I promised him that. That’s why I’m telling you this right now, moved in with —”

“What are you talking about!?” you asked, confused.

“Mark-hyung wanted you to leave that shitty place of your aunts’ house,” he explained. “He’s much more comfortable if you stay with us.”

“And how can I be so sure that you’re not fooling me?”

Chenle became quiet. A scene played in his mind.

Blood. Lots of blood. Lots of Mark’s blood. Mark smiles at him, who's crying hopelessly, trying to keep his friend alive by holding him tightly. Mark continued to talk, stuttering at his own words in an attempt to make out of your name.

“Get her out of that place, please…” Mark whispers at Chenle, who could only nod. And as if it was the answer that he needs, Mark closes his eyes slowly.

“It’s a promise before he joined the gang,” Chenle lied. “We look for each other’s family, especially when someone dies.”

You stared at him. He seems more distant than what you assumed, as if he was hiding something from you. But you tried to look on the other side. He wants you to leave your aunts’ place. Something that you and your brother have been dying to do.

It was the reason why your brother even joined the gang. Both of you were orphaned at a young age. Your parents died due to a car accident, leaving you two under the care of your aunt and her husband.

It was a living hell. They would tell you everyday that both you siblings should be grateful that she took you in or else you two will end up in an orphanage. She treats you like a maid and for years, you and your brother endured it. They were greedy for money too, they couldn’t even spare money on you two, saying that you two should be grateful that you have a place to live. At a young age, you are forced to find part-time jobs so that you have money for yourself.

So did Mark. When your brother turned nineteen, he ended up joining a gang. It was dangerous, but it gave him a huge sum of money enough to buy both your needs. But in return, he would go home wounded and blooded. You hold your tears, as you mend your brother’s wounds. Trying to convince him to stop it and just live a normal life.

“Soon, just a little bit more, we’ll get there. We can now move out of this shitty place and have a place of our own, you can study at one of the best universities here in Korea without worrying about the expenses.” he told you, smiling. You have your lips tight, trying your best to trust your brother.

But a few weeks later, Mark died. Your world crumbled when you received the news that your brother died in a gang fight. It was said that he was just an innocent passerby who happened to witness the illegal activities, that’s why he got involved. But you knew that he wasn’t as innocent as they tried to paint him. Whoever decided to change the statement, must be trying to protect Mark too.

And you wonder if it was Chenle’s doings. You glanced at him, and he was nothing but staring at you. You let out a sigh.

“How can I be sure that I should trust you?” you asked.

“Don’t trust me,” Chenle answered quickly. “I’m just fulfilling what Mark-hyung wanted. It’s just a temporary stay, soon, you can stay at the apartment flat Mark wanted to buy.”

“Okay,” you let out a sigh. “I’ll come with you.”

It was a risk. But it was better than staying in your aunts’ place. You knew the gang your brother joined. Mark keeps talking about them whenever you mend his wounds. He seems to love his gang, even considering them as friends. If Mark trusts them enough to look after you, then you’re convinced that there’s nothing for you to worry about.

“Alright,” Chenle muttered. “Here’s my phone number, just contact me when we pick you up.” He leaves a card in front of you, and before you could mutter a word, he bids his goodbye to you and leaves.

You stared at the paper. There’s not much to see except his name and number. That’s how discreet Chenle was, and now, you were even more curious about the gang your brother joined.

As expected, your aunt was more happy for you to leave their place. She didn’t have an ounce of care about you and kept on insisting that it was time for you to be mature and live on your own.

“Maybe even try to follow your brother’s footsteps, how about that?” she taunted. You froze for a second, but as much as you wanted to stop and slap the hell out of her, you couldn’t do anything but to continue packing your things. You tried to brush it off. At least you’re leaving the place. You’re free now and you’re on your own now.

It took a while before Chenle arrived. A slick black car stops in front of you and from the driver’s seat, Chenle exits. He helped you load your things on the trunk, and even opened the passenger seat for you. You glanced at the apartment building, not noticing that Chenle had entered the car.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, you glanced at him and shook your head as answer.

“Did your aunt say something?”

You became quiet, wondering how he was able to read your mind.

“Mark-hyung talks about her all the time,” he answered, “That’s for another time, let’s go.”

The drive to their place was quiet. You only stared at the view from the window. Chenle was a skilled driver, but he didn’t say a thing to you during the duration of the drive. You found it weird, he was far different from your brother’s stories.

You knew them and their personality. You know that they’re just lost kids like your brother, trying to fight their way to survive the harsh world. The gang was small, but it’s enough. Chenle was their leader due to the fact that he founded and funded the gang, he did it in order to rebel against his parents. But slowly, Chenle realised that this is the family that he’s been yearning for.

That’s why he was so protective of not only his members, but their member’s families too.

Your thoughts started to trail off when you found Chenle turning right to a secluded road. It was down a narrow alley that seemed abandoned, barely visible from the highway you two just drove through.

From the outskirts, you found yourself in a more hidden alley, filled with abandoned buildings and ruined roads. Chenle parks the car outside of a decent-looking building. And as you glanced at him, he only gave you a go signal to leave the car.

“It looks abandoned but that’s the purpose of it,” Chenle commented. Grabbing your bag, not even letting you touch it. “Come on.” you only followed him quietly, entering the building. It was dimmed with lights, the walls weren't painted with any colours, and you felt its eerie presence as Chenle's footsteps echoed through the empty hallways.

As you two reached the second floor, Chenle stopped in front of the only door in there. He types on the passcode and enters. “We’re here!” He shouts, and you only follow suit.

You stepped backward when you were greeted by a bunch of boys — and girls. You were surprised, given that your brother didn’t mention any girls in the gang.

“Like I told you, we protect each other’s families,” Chenle said. You only nod, as they introduce themselves one by one. Only a few of them are the member’s sisters, mostly their girlfriends. You gave them a warm smile, trying your best to be acquainted with them.

“Jaemin-hyung, bring yn to her room, I’ve got to do something,” Chenle ordered, disrupting the talk.

“Uhm, sure…where are you going?” Jaemin asked.

“Meeting someone,” he said casually before leaving the place without any words to you.

You stood there frozen, clueless as to what to do when Jaemin tapped your shoulder.

“You’ll get used to it, that’s just how Chenle is,” the older one assured you.

You tried to brush it off. That’s just Chenle’s personality. They say. It was weird given how your brother talks about him like a younger brother.

“He may be younger than me but he’s smart, also calculated. But he still has a childish side of him. If you met him, you'd definitely like his smile.”

Two weeks into your stay and you never saw Chenle smile. He seems reserved, as if he’s trying to hide something from you. You became curious, especially when the rest ignored it. Was your brother’s stories a lie? You wanted to approach him, and talk to him about your stay. You feel agitated, doing nothing and spending most of your time on your part-time job. But he seems busy, doing something, and completely shutting himself from the world. He couldn’t even look you in the eye.

You wonder if it was because of your brother, and yet, as much as you want to find the answer, you couldn’t find it especially when Chenle’s been avoiding you.

It’s not like you want to leave the place, living with your brother’s former gang was much better than staying in your aunt's place. They were welcoming and still acted like a bunch of teenagers. They seem like a close-knitted family, and now you understand why your brother thinks highly about them. But of course, he mentioned that this is just a temporary stay, so you were also half-eager to not stay any longer.

“We don’t know either,” Jeno answered when you opened up your concern. “It’s best for you to corner him.”

That was the only answer that you got. You only nodded and didn’t push them furthermore. Jeno noticed the way your expression faltered, he only smiles as he gently ruffles your hair.

“He’ll be back here around two am, if you really want to talk to him.”

So you stayed up late. You’re used to it. Back then, you would wait for your brother’s return. It comforts you that he would go home late but alive. It assured you that he’s fine.

Just like what Jeno had mentioned, it was almost two in the morning when the door opened. You stood up from your seat. You heard Chenle’s harsh breathing, as if he was struggling. You immediately went to him, surprising both of you.

Your eyes widened to see him ruined. Open cuts and wounds in his face, blood-stained shirt and jacket, he was limping too.

“Why are you still awake?” he asked, struggling to finish his sentence.

“I was waiting for you,” you said, making him quiet. “You should sit, let me tend your wounds —“

“No thanks, I can manage —“

“Please,” you pleaded. “I do this to Mark too, I know what I am doing.”

As if the magic word was your brother’s name that he agreed to. You helped him sit on the sofa, while you left to find the first aid kit found in the bathroom. Minutes later, you returned and began mending his wounds. You noticed how he’s looking sideways, not even batting an eye at you.

“I was going to ask,” you started. “Until when can I stay here?”

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to burden everyone,” you timidly said.

“You’re not a burden,” Chenle answers.

“Really? Then why can’t you even look me in the eyes?” you asked.

Chenle didn’t answer. He couldn’t help but remember Mark’s funeral — where you two first met.

It was at a decent funeral parlour. The six of them went there together, and from the outside, Chenle noticed that there’s only a few visitors. You were Mark’s main mourner. Only sitting at the corner, holding the frame of your dead brother. Your head lay low, not even noticing their arrival. They all stood there quietly, trying to sink into their mind that Mark is dead.

In the midst of the ceremony, Chenle’s eyes never left yours. He can see the resemblance of Mark to you, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Yet he was intrigued at your calm demeanour. When it was time for them to bid goodbye, you personally sent them away, bowing at them as a sign of gratitude, and as you come face to face with Chenle, he couldn’t help but noticed the dead look in your eyes, and yet you seem to not shed a single tear for your brother.

He doesn’t know what to feel about you. Intrigued? Curious? Guilty? All he knows is that he killed the only family member that you had. And as much as he tries to help you, he knows that he couldn’t do anything about Mark’s death.

“Why can’t you resent me?” he asked. You stopped your tracks, looking at him. Chenle was devastated. He was wondering why you didn’t even try to push them away, scream or even call the police at them.

But you only let out a small chuckle, “I don’t know, why would I?”

“I killed your brother,” he confessed.

“You didn’t Chenle, I know the truth,” you told him. “You weren’t able to save him, that’s all.”

“See!? I was useless! How can you still mend my wounds after what I did!?”

You let out a sigh, “How can I resent the people who my brother considered as family?”

Silence. Chenle wasn’t able to say anything. You only gave him a bitter smile as you grabbed another alcohol pad and gently tapped it on his cheeks. That’s when he noticed how your eyes felt hollow, as if you’re dead inside.

“My brother talks about you all the time, you’re like his younger brother,” you answered. “He thinks highly of you. He respects you, so how can I resent the person my brother loves?”

“Why should I blame you for my brother’s death? When it was my fault that he joined the gang in the first place —“ and tears began to flow. Your hands drop as you hold onto the pad tightly. You couldn’t help but to sob, remembering that all your brother’s doing was for you.

All Mark wanted was for you to live a comfortable life, away from the shithole of your aunts’ house. And the only thing he can do as quickly as possible is join an underground gang. An easy access for money, but a risk.

As much as you tried to stop him, it was useless. In the end, Mark was gone, and you don’t know if you can survive in this world alone. You felt helpless, that’s when you realised that you’ve also been dependent on Mark throughout your life.

Your tears wouldn’t stop even when Chenle pulled you closer to his arms, you couldn’t help but cry louder. After weeks of being alone, this was the first time you found comfort.

“It’s not your fault,” Chenle muttered. “We never wanted this to happen,” he told you.

And he was right. No one wants this, and the only thing that you two can do is assure each other. Both lost someone who’s very important to each other. Blaming and living with guilt was useless.

Chenle thinks that it’s useless for him to let the guilt swallow him. He only lets out a deep sigh as he pulls you even closer to him. He was determined to never let you cry again.

“I’m here, I’m not going to let you be alone again,” he swore to you.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct chenle #nct chenle fic #chenle fic #chenle imagines #zhong chenle #nct dream chenle fic #chenle x reader #nct dream chenle

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flashbangstars · 18 days

Text

Happy Tears - Z.C.L

Pairing: Chenle x Fem reader MDNI 18+ WC: 938

Genre: Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (wear a condom or I will call the cops) head female receiving, biting (once! sue me) , Dacryphilia,

Authors note: none! pls enjoy!

His tongue traced the inside of your thigh and he bit down on the flesh, leaving an imprint of his teeth on the sensitive skin. the sting making the throbbing between your legs amplify

“Can you fucking stop, that will bruise” you scolded from above him

“Why, you love it though” he pouted from his spot in between your legs

Ignoring your plead, he dove back in and licked directly on your clit sucking, his mouth making a soft pop as he released. his thumb pressing down on the spot he had bitten to make sure it bruised.

“I’ve seen the way you look at them in the mirror before you shower” he continued to taunt

You moaned unable to string together a sentence as your body twitched from his touch, opting just to flip him off instead. Replacing his tongue you felt his thumb begin to massage your clit in a circle irritatingly slow. Giving you just enough to feel good, but not to satisfy. His free hand came up to grab the hand that was giving him the finger intertwining your fingers and squeezing.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to be so bratty when you fuck, you’re always such a good girl everywhere else, why not keep that up now” He wasn’t even talking to you anymore, he was talking to himself as he stroked himself once, and then twice lining himself up with your entrance, pushing the tip in slightly to test your tightness

Your thighs trying to slam together in response to the slight bit of stimulus he was providing, but he was quicker, the stretch burning as your thighs were pushed apart.

You slapped yourself putting your hand over your mouth trying to stifle the scream he pulled out of you turning your head to the side trying to bury yourself deeper into your pillow to escape his gaze.

“Why are you running away now” he cooed and you felt his hand grab your jaw and move your head back to face him, meeting his eyes, sharp and dark. He had an unforgiving stare with these dead eyes, that he knew you thought was attractive. As soon as you had admitted that to him he used it to his advantage every time he could. He just stared at you after adjusting your face and kept his hand softly on your jaw. You wanted to jump out of your skin under the scrutiny. Wrapping your hand around his wrist and feeling tears run down the sides of your face

He was sitting fully inside of you refusing to move, playing this weird game of chicken, of who would win in giving in to the other, and you had now lost.

“Chenle, p-please,” you asked your words sounding utterly pathetic from the overstimulation from every small movement. you twitched uncontrollably below him from the overstimulation.

A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as you gave in and satisfaction painted his face.

“Please what sweetheart?” He rebutted acting oblivious to your pleas

You swallowed the lump in your throat and felt another onslaught of tears running down the sides of your face.

“Please move” you pleaded, your voice getting watery from the spit gathering at the back of your throat. He hummed and softly cupped your cheek admiring you, easing a small pressure squeezing your cheeks so your lips puckered

“You are so pretty when you cry” he complimented and dragged his thumb under your eye, making the tears that had been collecting in your waterline spill over onto his finger. Accenting his movement with beginning to pull out agonizingly slow, feeling each movement and melting with the relief it was attempting to gift you.

Staring you down still, that smirk still gracing his face. He slams into you, a gasp ripping from your throat and another onslaught of tears races down the sides of your face.

“Here you go sweetheart,” he says between huffs as he keeps up a consistent pace. Your back arching off the sheets uncontrollably and mouth agape with sounds that sound like all the letters in his name, but unable to be strung together correctly.

His hands were at your hips now, his four fingers pressing into the back of your hips, and his thumbs pressing down on the notches of your hips. His right thumb rubs back and forth occasionally, your body hyper-aware of every point of contact you two hold

Tilting your chin down, Chenle isn’t looking at you anymore. His eyes focused on himself going in and out, his breathing was fast and you could see his rib cage expanding with his lungs taking each breath. He pauses and scoots up towards you and lifts your hips off the bed his hands relocating to your waist.

With the new angle, your eyes rolled back and you felt each thrust more intensely than the last. You lifted one hand off the bed and reached towards him, your fingertips grazing the skin above his crotch. Swallowing the moans in your throat you opened your mouth

“Look at me” you softly commanded.

Chenle raised his head and made eye contact. His dark eyes were watery, tears streaming down his cheeks, and his lip red from being bitten. His eye widened a fraction from being broken from his lust-induced trance. Recovering quickly and the smug demeanor returned. Lifting your hands by the wrist and leaning in, using your fingers to wipe away the tears that had streamed down his cheeks and we threatening to fall off his jaw. You smile and rest the hand on his face opening your mouth to speak with more strength this time.

“You look so pretty when you cry”

#nct dream #nct dream fic #nct dream smut #nct dream imagine #chenle #chenle fic #chenle smut #zhong chenle #zhong chenle smut #zhong chenle fic

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ohmygs-blog · 7 months

Text

to be dating zhong chenle…

❀ boyfriend texts

bf texts.

bf texts ii.

bf texts iii.

bf texts iv.

bf texts v.

bf texts vi.

bf texts vii.

cute messages.

cute messages ii.

protective chenle.

chenle spoiling you

memes chenle would send you.

co parenting daegal

❀ idol! bf texts

idol! bf texts.

idol! bf texts ii.

❀ angsty texts

angsty texts.

angsty texts ii.

jealousy.

jealousy ii.

❀ other messages

fwb / situationship.

fwb / situationship ii.

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lowkeychenle · 3 months

Text

chapter 2: y/n declares war

masterlist ← chapter 1: plz think of the ratios → chapter 3: russian roulette nct version ☹️

Description: After Chenle "accidentally" hits the follow button on Twitter, you try to get him to unfollow you by any means necessary, even if he's keen on staying right where he's at.

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (featuring NCT Mark, NCT Jaemin, aespa Ningning, & aespa Karina)

Genre: suggestive, crack, funny haha stuff idk

Content Warnings: mostly just jokes about chenle ruining lives and slight death jokes? lol

Taglist: @poemzcheng @kpophosblog @i6renj @xuimhao @fullsunstrawberry @simpforarmihn @iscocohere @222brainrot @leefullsun taglist is open! comment to be added :)

+ random bonus content

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct imagines #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #chenle smut #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #chenle angst #chenle fluff #chenle fake texts #chenle fanfic #chenle fic #social media au #nct social media au #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff

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luvyeni · 1 year

Note

Hello! I hope everything is going well for you~

Can I request a Chenle smut, where maybe the reader is like 3-6 months older than him. The Dreamies and another group of her friends are playing truth or dare. The reader picks truth and is asked if she would ever date someone younger than her. The reader can respond with no, I prefer my men older and more experienced in the “sensual” department. She says that younger guys are inexperienced.

After her it’s Chenle’s turn, he gets dared for 10 minutes in the closet with the reader and he goes in with every intention of proving a point. Maybe cockwarm and him talking very dirty to the reader, he has her beg for it. Mean Dom Chenle can make an appearance.

TRUTH OR DARE; ZHONG CHENLE

pairings. meandom!chenle x older!reader

wc. 0.8k

warnings. cockwarming, clit play, nipple play,degradation, choking, dirty talk, slapping

i hope you like it <3

chenle shows you he's more experienced than you think.

—

"sit." lily drunkenly pulled you down into the circle. "what are you guys doing?" you questioned. "truth or dare." haechan took a sip of his drink. "is this high school?" you scoffed. "just sit and play the game , stop being so stuck up." chenle said. "shut up." you sat down. "how about you go first missy , truth or dare?" jaemin said.

"fine." you took a sip of your drink , "truth." chenle scoffed. "of course." you rolled your eyes. "fuck you." haechan sense the tension between you two , smirking an idea cooking in his head. "would you date a guy younger than you?" you shook your head. "absolutely not." chenle sat up. "why not?"

"because i like my guys to be more experienced in certain areas that only older guys are." you said. "meaning?" jeno spoke up. "sex , younger guys are more inexperienced than older guys." you explained. "bullshit." chenle said. "there are plenty of younger guy's who are more experienced."

"who?" you quirked your eyebrow up. "you? i doubt it." everyone bursted into laughter — not chenle , he was pissed , blood boiling , wanting nothing more than to put you back into your place. everybody had their chances , then it finally got to chenle. "truth or dare chenle."

"dare." he said , staring you down , "i got this." haechan said , watching him. "i dare you to go into the closet with the person of your choice , for 10 minutes." chenle stood up , standing over your body. "what?" you said. "get up." he said. "why would i- i said get up." he pulled you up , dragging you towards the closet , the group behind you cheering and hollering as the door closed behind you.

"i told you- hmph! " he shut you up , grabbing your throat , pulling you into a rough kiss. "someone really needs to teach you to shut that mouth of yours up." he squeezed , cutting your breathing off a bit , making you whimper. "moaning already , this turning you on?" he scoffed. "i knew it , just another slut." he grabbed your jaw.

"take your panties off , now." he order , you were shocked at how demanding he was. "are you dumb , take your panties off." you pulled your panties down. "skirt to." you pulled your shirt over your head , throwing it to the floor. "no bra?" he scoffed , taking his pants off , sitting down on the floor , his cock straining against his boxer.

"sit." you found yourself submitting faster than you ever did , straddling his thigh. "you're gonna sit on my cock slut." he pushed his underwear down enough to pull his hard cock out , jerking himself off some. "sh..shit." he lifted you up by your waist , hovering you over his cock, his tip poking your entrance. "fu..fuck me please — oh fuck!" you screamed as he slammed you down.

"sh..shit , you're so fucking tight." he groaned , you tried to rock your hips , his hand coming up to your hair , yanking it. "did i say move your fucking hips?" you moaned. "n..no." he yanked it again. "then don't move slut , just sit on my cock." his hands came down to toy with your nipples. "pl..please." you begged. "such -shit- a fucking whore , i thought younger guys weren't experienced enough." he scoffed. "here you are begging for me , a younger guy to fuck you." he bucked up into you once.

"o..oh fuck, you're so big." you moaned , holding on to his shoulder. "god , you're such a slut." he groaned. "fucking clenching around my cock , just from sitting on it and , a little dirty talk , gonna cum?" he reached in between your bodies , rubbing your clit. "sh..shit , i need to move." tears , running down your face.

"so fucking useless , crying because can't even make yourself cum." he slapped your clit , you yelped , jolting forwards. "pl..please move." he slapped your ass. "move." you were practically sobbing , as you began to rock your hips. "come on slut , we don't have time , fucking move faster." you moved faster , he bit his lip , throwing his head back. "fu..fuck look at you , bounce on my cock like a bitch in heat." he groaned. "sh..shit." he slapped your ass.

"ch..chenle , -fuck- im gonna cum." he thrusted up into you. "are you now -sh..shit- you said all that out there , made a fucking fool out of me , maybe i should stop here , leave you a horny , teary eyed mess." you shook your head. "n..no please." you begged. "calm down , slut , i'll let you cum." he trusted up , hitting your spot. "cum for me slut." his hand came up to you throat , squeezing it , the lack of oxygen , made your orgasm 10x times intense. "shit! "your legs shook as you came.

"times up , put your clothes back on and come out." he huffed , picking up your panties. "im keeping these." he handed you your shirt. "but you didn't get to cum." he smirked. "you really think im done with you." he squeezed your ass , you whined.

"i'm gonna show you just how experienced i am."

©️LUVYENI

#chenle imagines #chenle smut #chenle scenarios #zhong chenle x reader #zhong chenle smut #chenle hard thoughts #chenle hard hours #chenle fic #nct smut #nct fic #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream x reader #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct x reader

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moonlezn · 9 months

Text

Jo Malone & Pinot Noir

chenle x leitora gênero: fluff; friends to lovers. Chenle reconhece que ser amigo de infância teria suas vantagens: te conhece bem, sabe como te agradar e te faria feliz como ninguém; no entanto, até hoje a confissão está presa na garganta. parte 2 parte 3 wc: 1.2k a/n: essa aqui nasceu de um devaneio caótico com a @ncdreaming. eu sou lelé pelo chenle. ele não queria parecer emocionado, mas falhou, viu? espero que gostem. :)

você: po aí

você: nem p apresentar né

você: os de vdd eu sei quem são

Chenle revirou os olhos ao ler tuas respostas ao seu mais novo story, que contava com a menção ao instagram de mark, seu colega da faculdade. Foram almoçar juntos antes de iniciar um projeto cuja data de entrega se aproximava, e resolveu postar pra registrar o momento descontraído do outro.

Sentiu seu interior borbulhar de ciúmes e respondeu com um emoji de sobrancelha levantada, sem coragem de falar a verdade. Quando o assunto era você, o chinês de confiança quase inabalável perdia a postura. Ele reconhecia que ser amigo de infância teria suas vantagens: te conhecia bem, sabia como te agradar e te faria feliz como ninguém; no entanto, até hoje a confissão estava presa na garganta.

Nos últimos meses, esse lance tinha tomado proporções intoleráveis, e o menino começou até a evitar sair com você para festas, pois odiava ver o tanto de babaca que te dava mole. Era agoniante perceber seus risinhos forçados, acompanhados dos carinhos sedutores nos ombros de um qualquer… detestava ficar passando vontade.

Abrindo o arquivo, viu você acompanhada de Jaemin e Hyuck, no supermercado. O último escondeu o rosto com um hangloose e deu uma risadinha, enquanto o primeiro só tirou os olhos do celular pra fazer um biquinho e exibir uma piscadela.

você: chama ele p hj

você: o jaemin disse q n liga

você: [vídeo]

Chenle xingou os amigos mentalmente. amigos da onça, isso sim. Os dois estavam bem cientes de como ele te enxergava, ainda assim deixariam um pseudo interesse amoroso, parceiro dele, ir na resenha e possivelmente pegar a mulher que queria para si?

Inspirou fundo, contou até dez, e a irritação momentânea passou. Recobrando a sobriedade, decidiu-se: essa enrolação acabaria hoje mesmo, no bendito jantar – para qual não convidara mark, obviamente.

Despedindo-se do colega após finalizar a tarefa, entrou na X6 e suspirou pesado, jogando a mochila no banco do carona. Precisava bolar um plano de ataque. Caso chegasse na casa de Jaemin despreparado, a coragem repentina poderia evaporar.

Dirigiu calmamente pela cidade, necessitava colocar a cabeça no lugar e pensar em como chegaria em você. Tinha receio de parecer emocionado, mas, principalmente, não queria assustá-la. Com todo o estresse atrelado à tentativa de esconder os sentimentos, ele nunca se permitiu reparar o tanto que te queria. Como seria bom se vocês ficassem, puta merda. Agora vislumbrava com clareza o quanto era doido pra te ter assim; pretendia, todavia, fazer tudo com calma e deixar que você se ajustasse a ideia de vocês dois juntos.

Chenle não mediu esforços para se apresentar bem. Teriam apenas uma noite de pizza e vinhos, então seria desnecessário, e suspeito, usar peças mais refinadas; sabia, porém, como suas roupas casuais mexiam contigo. Vestiu-se de forma simples, all black, dando o toque final com teu moletom favorito dele, além do Jo Malone que também gostava – sempre elogiava seu cheiro. Dando-se por satisfeito, partiu em direção a tua casa, que não era longe dali. Haviam combinado a carona uns dias antes, você não precisou insistir pra que ele aceitasse.

“Tá cheiroso, Lele.” Disse ao entrar no carro, inclinando-se para depositar um beijinho carinhoso na bochecha do rapaz, que torceu o rosto bem a tempo do canto da boca roubar o contato.

“Valeu, gatinha.” Sorriu trêfego, mesmo esforçando-se para fingir que nada tinha acontecido. O rubor na tua face acabou camuflado na meia-luz da bmw, e ele deu partida, retomando o caminho até o destino.

Rapidamente chegaram, e o jovem se preparou para estacionar o carro largo numa vaga complicada, mas bem em frente à casa de Jaemin. Tirando o cinto de segurança, apoiou o braço direito no banco do carona e virou o pescoço pra trás. Sua mão esquerda se mantivera no volante, conduzindo facilmente. Teus olhos acompanhavam cada movimento, observando o cabelo desalinhado, a mandíbula definida e o pescoço exposto... tão lindo.

“Teu carro não tem câmera traseira?” Indagou rindo fraco, não imaginava que o chinês fazia de propósito. Ele bem sabia que julgava o ato atraente.

“Que mané câmera, bebê.” Deixou o apelido escapar. “O pai sabe o que tá fazendo.” Completou, parando o automóvel com sucesso. “Tá maluco, sei muito!”

Mirando-se no espelho do banheiro, percebeu os lábios arroxeados pela bebida que lhe deixara leve. Tô meio alegrinha, concluiu para si mesma. Saindo do cômodo, notou o corredor escuro e logo franziu o cenho. Jurava que a luz estava acesa antes de entrar ali.

“Procurando alguma coisa?” Surpreendeu-se com a voz mansa do melhor amigo, que enlaçou as mãos na tua cintura, sem permitir que o visse de frente.

“Não, eu tava…” Ele pousou o queixo sobre um dos teus ombros, o bendito perfume atingiu teus sentidos e te impediu de racionar. “sei lá, nem lembro.”

“Vamo’ ali rapidinho?” Sinalizou com a cabeça, mas pegou teu dedo mindinho com o próprio, te conduzindo para entrar na varanda iluminada somente pelo luar.

Chenle entrou primeiro e te observou cerrar a porta balcão. Sentou-se em um dos bancos altos e te trouxe para mais perto de si, posicionando-a entre suas pernas. Levantou uma de suas mãos para acariciar tua bochecha macia, fixando os olhos nos teus, em total silêncio. Você não se reconhecia capaz de desviar o olhar, e muito menos de se afastar do menino para voltar pros amigos. As conversas abafadas no andar de baixo já não eram mais importantes.

Com toque sedutor, dedos cálidos seguiram até tua nuca, aproximando os rostos mais um pouquinho. Questionava-se se o tempo estava passando mais devagar, ou se Chenle mexia-se com lentidão. A verdade era que ele não queria que aquilo fosse imaginação, nem que terminasse.

Você apertou as pálpebras pesadas, então Lele aproveitou para afagar a ponta do teu nariz com o próprio. Estavam tão perto, isso estava te matando. Ele não tinha pressa alguma, testaria teus limites somente por provocação; não previu, entretanto, que você tomaria iniciativa.

“Me beija, Lele.” Declarou num sussurro suplicante, completamente envolvida.

“Posso?” A voz grave perguntou baixinho. Não te beijaria sem uma resposta, mas, te esperando, não resistiu roçar delicadamente os lábios.

Com isso, atingiu teu máximo. Capturou os lábios carnudinhos dele nos teus com paixão, e descobriu que era muito superior ao que já havia fantasiado. Beijavam-se vagarosamente, o gosto de lar e Pinot Noir nas línguas desfazendo qualquer pudor restante. As digitais acariciando teu quadril te incendiavam, enquanto as outras ainda te guiavam pelo pescoço; as suas, ora agarravam com força o capuz, ora os braços musculosos.

“Duvido que outro te beijaria assim.” Murmurou no selinho demorado, como se te confiasse um segredo. Estava entorpecido não mais pelo vinho, mas por você. Como não recebeu resposta, afastou-se minimamente e indagou: “Fala pra mim. Quem, hm?” Mordiscou o lábio sensível.

“Só você, Lele.” Mal compreendia a própria fala, só ansiava voltar a beijá-lo. E o fez.

Contudo, ouviram um burburinho bem próximo da varanda. Exigiu muito de Chenle se separar de você e fazer de conta que estavam apenas trocando uma ideia esse tempo todo.

“Vocês estão bem?” Hyuck estava debruçado na porta, inclinando a cabeça para dentro da varanda. “Geral já tá indo embora.”

“Sim, sim, já vamo’ descer.” Você anunciou, admirando as unhas recém feitas, disfarçando o melhor que podia.

Assim que o moreno fechou a porta novamente, você e chenle trocaram um olhar arteiro e reprimiram as risadas baixas, querendo discrição. Ele depositou vários selinhos cheios de carinho entre os sorrisos, sem acreditar que quase haviam sido pegos.

A volta pra casa foi diferente, definitivamente. O polegar do chinês afagando sua coxa ao dirigir, e os risinhos ao se olharem nos sinais vermelhos, e a despedida prolongada dentro da X6 denunciavam: não importava quanto tempo havia passado, eles tinham apenas acabado de começar.

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galacticseonghwa · 8 months

Text

Zhong Chenle bf texts pt. 3

(chenle sending u pictures version)

INCLUDES: swearing, chenle being chenle, fluff, suggestive content, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.)

a/n: not proofread yet

GALACTICSEONGHWA MASTERLIST: here

#galacticseonghwa #nct dream #nct #chenle #zhong chenle #nct chenle #nctzen #chenle fic #chenle texts #chenle smut

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rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

how to self-sabotage: a bulletproof guide by zhong chenle

pairing: rival! zhong chenle x fem! reader genre: college au | humor, fluff wc: 10.8k warnings: swearing, a mention of alcohol and weed, this is written like a bad disney channel sitcom. i really channeled my inner business graduate with this fic i am so sorry a/n: this is a repost from yesterday bc tumblr was shitty and turned my text black!! playlist: self-sabotage - waterparks ; are you gonna be my girl - jet ; countdown (1, 2, 3) - nct dream ; teenager in love - neon trees ; maniac - conan gray ; drama - txt

one would say it's ungraceful to turn a charity fundraiser into a competition, but you and zhong chenle have no boundaries when it comes to beating each other in a fight. crashing each other's plans, making irresponsible decisions, all just for the sake of winning a competiton you two made yourself; zhong chenle finds a turn of events when the whole thing turns into a self-sabotage.

❥ hello! this is y/n and welcome to my new youtube video! to celebrate my 600 followers milestone, I prepared something special: let's look at all the boys I've ever had a crush on and interrogate them with a fun questionare! for today's part, we have the boy that tried to sabotage me, but ended up doing quite the opposite: zhong chenle himself! ❥

this fic is a part of my collab! find the rest of the works from the dream chronicles collab here! [tba]

Sitting at the table, fingers drumming against the light wood, you stare into the unknown and make your dear friend Jisung a little afraid of what’s about to come. Being your best friend is always a challenging fact, considering your over-the-top ideas and drive that makes your clueless friend a little taken aback, but with the premise of a challenge– the charity event that’s going to take place at your university, he already knows he’s up for something wild.

Maybe taking a step back from your master plan would be a better idea. Jisung would save his sanity and also, most likely, a lot of trouble; but that’s not who Park Jisung is. If anything, he’s a loyal friend. No one will take that title away from him. And that’s exactly why he’s sitting opposite of you right now, listening to the hum of the cafeteria, waiting for what you have to say.

“How many people are joining?” you ask, voice stone cold and focused. You don’t meet Jisung’s eye, focusing on the people flowing in and out of the cafeteria instead, the gears in your brain turning faster than on your midterms.

“I don’t know exactly, but I’d say around ten teams of people, each one consisting of at least two to three people, so… at least 30..?” Jisung hums, quickly calculating the numbers in his brain.

“30…. so that means we have at least a 20% chance of winning,” you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip and furrowing your brows, seemingly lost in thought.

“That- that’s not adding up, Y/N…” Jisung mumbles, running the numbers through his brain once again, trying to see if he’s made a mistake or if it was you. See, Jisung is not a straight A student– that’s what you’re here for, after all– but when it comes to Maths, he’s pretty confident. He’s not quite sure why it’s the only subject he’s good at, considering it might be the hardest of the course, but for some reason, logical things are easy for him to grasp.

“I ruled out the freshmen girls, they’re absolutely not winning this. Also, Renjun and Jeno are out as well, because they will underestimate everything and not try hard enough. That leaves us with Yangyang and Hyuck, since I know damn well that each and every girl that’s ever hooked up with either of them will hop on their dicks and buy anything they’re selling,” Jisung chuckles at the seriousness of your voice as you talk, finding the fact that you’re taking this whole thing as your main mission of the semester amusing, “and then… Him. He’s the professor’s favorite. And he’s super good at persuading people. And I know damn well he’s gonna try hard, so actually, the chances of winning are split into three teams, so we have an approximately 30% chance of winning the prize.”

Jisung blinks at you a few times, trying to clear his head. Right now, you look like you’ve been programmed– a robot with no emotions, only set on the task it’s been told to do. You’re not even blinking, he notes and immediately gets freaked out– because what if they switched his best friend for a robot while he was sleeping? What if this is some sick experiment? What if he’s in the Truman show? You may never know these days…

“Y/N, that’s not-”

“It’s 50/50, actually,” you cut him off, nodding.

“How can it be-”

“Simple. It’s me or him. And I will do anything in my power to win, Jisung, so be prepared for a fight,” you order, taking a sip of your water, still not meeting eyes with your companion. Jisung’s kind of glad for that, though– what if you turned into a siren and eye contact with you will turn him into stone? He really doesn’t need that, he hasn’t even had his first girlfriend yet. He’s too young to die!

“It’s for charity, for fuck’s sake, don’t be so competitive…” Jisung sighs, taking another bite of his sandwich that he forgot he was eating for a second as you started with your business meeting, shaking his head in disbelief at your antics. Is anyone even taking this whole thing so seriously?

The business department at your university is having a charity event the upcoming month. The goal is to sell things and raise the most money you can– it’s all for a good cause, of course. The only thing is that your university already realized that your generation, although it loves to help people in need, won’t do anything without having enough motivation. And so, the head of the business department– professor Lee– promised that the team that raises the most money for charity (or the winning team, as you like to call it), will get an iPad pro for their efforts.

Jisung would understand if you were doing it for the iPad. Hell, even he wants one. But the reality is completely different– you just really, really need to be the best at everything. It’s your main purpose in life and when you fail, you fall into weeks long depression, mourning every single aspect that made you fail at your task and getting angry at every person in your sight. That is even scarier than your weird transe that you’re in right now, Jisung admits, and so he usually does his best to help you with your efforts, because he doesn’t like to get screamed at for multiple weeks if you come second.

That, and he also really doesn’t like to see you sad.

“Yeah, so I’m having the right intentions, aren’t I, Jisung?” you finally meet eyes with Jisung, your devoted business partner, as you smile with that kind of curve to your lips that doesn’t really meet your eye.

A shiver runs down the poor boy’s spine at that, pupils widening with terror. Standing up from your position at the table, completely ignoring Jisung’s half-eaten sandwich left at the red tray on the table, you move towards the exit of the cafeteria, expecting him to follow along. “Let’s go, Jisung. We have work to do.”

“I’m so so surprised at everyone’s interest in the charity event! Thank you so much for coming here today to discuss the details,” Ms Lee chirps from her spot at the top of the table, swinging her arms around like a Disney princess when she sings to all the animals that gathered around her in the backyard of her palace.

Your eyes scan the figures gathered around the room. You’re sitting at one of the big, rounded tables settled in the middle of the conference room, two of the same, mahogany ones to your left and right side, all filled with business students. Some of the faces are familiar to you– like your classmate’s Renjun and Jeno’s, but some of the other ones are foreign to your eyes. You doubt you’ve ever seen those people in your whole, entire life, and you were in the student council last semester, so you were pretty much friends with everyone back then. Maybe it’s the freshmen, you think, as you look at your overly-excited professor and try to listen to what she has to say.

“Only if she knew that half of these people are here for the iPad,” Jisung murmurs into your ear, making you chuckle. He’s right– almost everyone’s here for that. But not you– you could never make your interest in charity so surface-level like everyone else does. You care about much more than getting an iPad, your interests are deeper than that. You don’t need the iPad– although you wouldn’t hesitate to take it if you win, you’re not stupid, after all– you need to win and beat your longest academic rival.

You need to win against Zhong Chenle himself, the top of the business class– he owns the title mainly because his parents own one and he’s had enough time to learn about all the wonders of the business world long before the rest of the people in your class– because you need the satisfaction of being the absolute best. See, you were used to that your whole life. In high school, you were the model student. The one that was set as an example. The best student, the most praised one, the most talented one, the gifted one, even.

You may already know why all of this was more damaging to you than it was good. Getting into university– into the sea of people that were told just that while growing up– was a feeling that made you fall down from the tallest heights of talent to the very middle of it all. The shift from being the best to being mediocre was perhaps the most painful experience of your whole life, but after you managed to get your shit together– and studied your ass off, because it won’t work any other way anymore, it seems– you set your mind on being the best one again, because in your whole childhood, you didn’t know any better. And if you were raised to be the picture perfect child, it’s hard to outgrow these habits.

So if Zhong Chenle was the top of the class in most of your courses, you had to be better than him eventually. The charity event is just another part of the whole process.

“I know this is all for a good thing, but I feel like we still need to set some rules for this whole thing. The main thing is to sell something– anything you want, really– and raise the most money you can for charity. I think everyone already got that, since you’re all sitting here, but I know that the vision of the iPad can blind some of you and get you to be a little too competitive, and while I encourage you to try hard, I also want all of you to play fair. So, here’s the thing,” your professor announces, making you shift a little in your chair and whisper to Jisung to get his notepad out so he can scribble the important info down, preventing you from forgetting it.

“Rule number one. No bad mouthing the others, no anti-campagne. I want all of you to be nice to each other and play it fair, got it?”

A few of you nod, humming in agreement, when a disappointed sigh comes from somewhere behind you, a low mumble reaching your ears and making you chuckle. “I had so much dirt on Donghyuck…”

“Rule number two. I don’t want you selling alcohol, cigarettes, or pretty much anything that’s against the university rules. God forbid if you bring drugs. I won’t hesitate to call the police on you if you do,” your professor continues, earning herself another set of bored hums and nods, cut off only by a pair of your classmates sitting right next to you at the big, rounded table.

A disappointed sigh leaves Yangyang’s mouth at this one, shaking his head in disapproval. You won’t say anything, because you don’t really want your classmate to get in trouble, but the last time you were on a party where Liu Yangyang was present, you couldn’t shake off the smell of weed for weeks, so you’re pretty sure his plan was to sneak in a little something to get more money for the charity. His friend and business partner in one– Lee Donghyuck from your Economy class– grins as his hand shoots up into the air, waiting to be called to ask a question.

“Yes, Donghyuck?”

“Are condoms allowed?” he asks, the innocent grin on his face making the freshmen girls in the back of the room chuckle and hide their face behind their hands.

“Why are you asking that?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, the innocent smile not leaving his face for a second as his childish friend only giggles at the encounter.

“Please don’t sell condoms at the charity event, Donghyuck,” professor Lee pleads, her eyes already full of misery as she realizes just what she’s gotten herself into when agreeing to lead the whole event.

Another disappointed sigh leaves his lips at that, shaking his head. “That’s our whole business plan gone, then…”

Taking exactly three seconds to calm herself down, your professor takes a deep breath in as she runs her hand through her long black hair and then clasps her palms together at her waist, regaining her composure. “Back to what I was saying, we have one more rule you have to follow. You can’t lie about your product. No false advertisement, no made-up stuff to make what you’re selling be more interesting than it already is. We want this to be a serious event, so please, take all of these rules to heart and try your hardest to follow them. Got it?”

Scanning the room, waiting for each and every single one of you to nod, the gathering falls silent. “If none of you have any questions, I consider this meeting to be over.”

The room is instantly filled with the shrieking of chairs on the linoleum ground, making your hair stand up as you arch like an angry cat, hating the sound. Waiting for everyone to get out of the room, you find a pair of men sitting still opposite of you, a cocky smirk plastered on the face of your moral enemy, his friend Jaemin sitting next to him with a well rehearsed poker face. They already look like they run a company, you realize, the thought making your blood boil just at the thought of Zhong Chenle looking more professional than you do– in your baggy sweatpants and a cropped top you grabbed from the top of the pile of half-dirty clothes in your room this morning.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” Chenle asks, grinning to himself as your eyebrows furrow and you reveal an annoyed face to him. It makes him happy to see you like this– it gives him more satisfaction than anything in his life, to be exact.

“The game’s on, Zhong.”

Walking towards your table in the cafeteria, a pair of young boys looking very engaged in their conversation lands in your rear point of vision. Eyes squinting, as if it was supposed to make you see better, you watch your best friend Jisung walk side by side with the accomplice of your moral enemy, Na Jaemin. One of them looks cool, dressed in all black, flashing a charming smile, and the other one is truly bubbly– jumping up and down, almost, as he giggles like a boy and adjusts the straps of his backpack. I won’t tell you which one’s which. Figure it out by yourself.

“We have a visitor today?” you ask as the two of them sit down at your usual table in the cafeteria, both of them smiling to themselves like two teenagers in love. The sight is an unusual one, to say the least, and you don’t know what it is about it that makes shivers down your spine. You just know that you kind of despise it.

“Yeah, Jaemin will be sitting with us today, if that’s okay,” Jisung smiles, looking at you with wide eyes full of excitement.

“Great, great,” you mumble, eyeing the boy with suspicion. Is this how he chose to execute your plan? You did tell him to be nice to Na Jaemin– you did even tell him to try to befriend him, if that was what he needed to do to get under his skin– but at the same time, you didn’t think that sitting together at lunch exactly two days after you told him to try to get some information from Jaemin was the right way to go around this.

See, you’d call it intuition. You know something’s wrong, you just don’t know what it is yet.

“So, what’s up, Jaemin?” you ask, poking the food on your table around with your fork, avoiding eye contact. You despise even sitting at the same table with one of Chenle’s friends– you feel like you’re suddenly in his circle, and that makes you gag a little into your mouth. While you need to be better at everything than this young businessman, you also need to stay away from everything that includes him– and yes, that means his friend circle as well. Who knows, Na Jaemin might even be a nice guy. You just don’t care enough to find out.

“Oh, a lot of exciting things are happening! Aren’t they, Jisung?” he smiles, kicking the clueless boy into his shin under the table in excitement, “the charity event, for example! We are preparing a lot of stuff with Chenle, and I think it’s gonna be a lot of fun. What about you two?”

Humming, you try to take the opportunity by its reached-out hands, smiling a little on the inside. “You’re doing a lot of things? What things exactly, may I ask?” you lock eyes with Jaemin, seeing his cunning smile.

“That’s a surprise, dear Y/N,” Jaemin mutters, the combination of his low voice and glimmering eyes making your stomach twist in anger and frustration. Of course he’s not that stupid– he won’t reveal what him and Chenle have planned for the event. He knows who you are. He knows how far you’re willing to go to completely destroy whatever the two of them have planned, just so you could win. And he won’t even dare to give you a single hint on his plans, because he’s intelligent and cunning.

“Is it…” you mutter under your breath, matching his competitive energy.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning to Jisung, “but maybe if you tell me first, I can share. Maybe we can brainstorm together, you know, that would be so much fun. Wouldn’t it, Jisung?” he asks your best friend, smiling sweetly at him.

You know damn well about the effect Na Jaemin has on people. He’s charming and sweet, magically alluring. He pulls everyone towards him, and he does it oh so easily. You’ve heard enough about how this man worked his magic spells on the girls in your grade, getting them on dates and then deciding he’s bored of them a few weeks later.

Now, you didn’t know that your best friend Park Jisung wasn’t immune to this effect. He was, in fact, very much not immune to it– he was just like every other girl in your class, just like all the poor freshmen girls that giggle at his stupid jokes in the cafeteria.

It was a saddening fact and an even more devastating sight to see your best friend fold under the eyes of the local charmer. You should’ve expected it, though– maybe this was the intuition you were supposed to listen to the very moment Na Jaemin showed up at your table in the cafeteria.

“I mean, I think that’s a good idea, maybe we can work together on it as well,” Jisung hums, eyes big never leaving the man as he nods to his manipulation tactics.

“See? Amazing! That’s exactly what I love to hear. So, what are you two planning?”

“Me and Y/N wanted to-”

“Jisung, shut up,” you coldly say, taking a hold of the situation and trying to save the day. Your poor best friend looks at you all lost, the furrow in his brows breaking your heart as you had to be rude to him for no reason at all– well, there is one, he just doesn’t know it yet.

“Why-”

“Why are you shutting your friend down like that? That’s not really nice of you, Y/N,” Jaemin says, locking eyes with you. The look in his orbs is knowing, your wavelength matching as he knows that you finally see right through his plan, that you know exactly what he’s trying to do– because you and Zhong Chenle are more alike than you both think, it seems. At least with your business tactics, after all.

“How about we work on our stuff alone, Na Jaemin? I don’t need Chenle’s help with anything,” you snap back, watching as the boy grins to himself and takes the red tray into his hands as he stands up from his place at your cafeteria table.

“Okay then,” he mutters, “have a nice day, you two.”

With his departure comes a loud whine from Park Jisung himself, earning himself a kick into the shin as you start your scolding session.

“What was that? Why were you so rude to him all of a sudden?”

“Jisung,” you coldly stare at him, making him silence, “I told you to befriend Na Jaemin to get out some information from him. I didn’t tell you to do the exact opposite and get exploited of all our plans instead!” you finish your little rant, breathing heavily as you notice the boy’s face clearing into understatement, smiling to himself a little in shame.

“Oh. I didn’t notice that…”

Park Jisung’s good at Math. Social interaction? Not so much… Maybe you should take things into your own hands and get some information yourself, instead of sending your most gullible friend on a mission that requires interaction with Na Jaemin…

“I still don’t understand what we are doing here. I thought you didn’t like parties!” Jisung mourns as you two step your feet inside of a big mansion (or at least that’s how the house looks in your eyes), the loud music of the event that’s going on inside making your eardrums bubble along with the beat.

“Jisung, you have so much to learn about this world…” you sigh, smiling at some of the girls you encounter on your way to the big kitchen, aiming straight for one of the red cups waiting for you on the kitchen island, all filled to the brim with various alcohol.

Turning around in your spot, two solo red cups in the palms of your hands, you offer one to your companion and grin at him. “Here, have this,” you smile, “I know you’re not a fan of vodka, but they don’t have anything else… Try not to die while I’m gone,” you note, earning yourself a confused look from the tall boy standing in front of you, listening to your commands.

“And where are you going? What’s going on-”

Sighing, you take the boy by his hand and drag him into the half-empty hall, the dim lightning making the whole encounter feel more secretive than it already was.

“Jisung, this is Zhong Chenle’s party,” you say, the sentence alone enough for the boy to instantly widen his eyes and part his lips agape in understatement, nodding at you. There’s a slight glint in his eyes that’s telling you that he doesn’t like where this is going, but you don’t really care about what he has to say right now. Your mind is set on one thing– winning, and that’s why you’re not afraid to do even the most desperate things of them all.

“Try to enjoy yourself,” you say, “but please don’t talk to Na Jaemin while we’re here, okay?”

“But Jaemin is nice-”

“Okay then, just don’t talk to him about the event, alright? They’ll use it against us if they know anything,” you mumble, downing the entirety of the red cup, scowling at the taste of your most hated alcohol. It’s like Zhong Chenle knew you were gonna appear– it’s like he wants to kill you. You wouldn’t even have to drink the poison that vodka is, but having some liquid courage in you could be useful in the crime you’re about to do right now.

“Try not to die,” Jisung resonates with the same words you’ve said to him just a few minutes prior, making you smile at him with a tense smile, hugging him goodbye before you go. Who knows, if Zhong Chenle catches you, you might not even make it out alive and see Jisung ever again. You might as well embrace your best friend for the last time.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you march up the stairs. The second floor of the house is not as crowded as the first one– the stairs are too steep to walk up if you’ve had too much to drink already, so it’s quite understandable. Looking around like a spy, you try hard to stay as natural as possible, not wanting to make anyone suspect you. Walking casually through the halls, you figure this is the best way to make everyone believe that you’re supposed to be here, that you were invited, and that you’re not just about to do a very, very bad thing.

Opening the first door to one of the rooms, you notice a king’s bed and flowery wallpaper. Closing it again, deciding that this isn’t the room you’re looking for, you continue your search on the second floor– opening the room to one of the bathrooms, and then what you presume is a guest room occupied with someone moaning loudly on the bed, making you shut the door behind you with disturbance.

Finally finding the right one– you assume so by the obnoxious Gucci hoodie sprawled on the chair right opposite of the door– you silently walk inside and close the door after you, making sure you’re alone and not watched by anyone. Trying the hardest to not make any sound, you walk through Zhong Chenle’s room and let your eyes roam across the furniture, looking for the thing you broke into his room for in the first place.

When you don’t find what you’re looking for anywhere at sight, you choose to walk over to his desk and open the first drawer. It’s full of textbooks and other notebooks, making you sigh and close it in disappointment, moving over to the one under it that surprises you with a stash of snacks and a single sock laying on the very top. Disgusted by the state of everything, you result in looking through the last drawer, wanting nothing more than to find the materials you saw Chenle write on the last meeting your charity event group had.

You needed to know what he had planned, so you could plan something bigger, better.

A stash of white paper appears in your eyes, the handwriting of none other than the owner of this house recognizable to you for various reasons (no, you never look at his exam papers over his shoulder just to make sure you did better than him. Never…), the title “charity” in a wobbly, light blue pen making your eyes light up. Bingo.

Excitement flowing through your veins, you scan over the paper and try to find any clues about the boy’s plan. The handwriting is a little hard to read, though, and so you squint your eyes, slowing down your breathing as you try to focus all of your attention to decoding the content in front of you–

–when the paper is swiftly pulled away from your grasp, making you gasp in shock and surprise. Turning your head around, you see the owner of the handwriting looking at you with a glare, making your body instinctively shoot to your feet and taking a step back.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, although he knows damn well what your previous actions were already.

“I’m- I was- I-” you stutter, your brain not allowing you to form coherent sentences.

He takes one step towards you, which leads in you taking another one back, repeating enough times for you to be pressed against the wall, shivers running down your spine either at the contact of the cold against your shoulders, or the look that Chenle gives you as he towers over you both physically and mentally, scoffing.

“Are you really that low? That desperate?” he spits, making your blood boil. You feel red in your face as the hint of his cologne makes its way up your nose, feeling both embarrassed and flustered by the whole encounter.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you peep, seeing the boy shake his head in disbelief, putting his hand up against the wall, close to where your head is resting.

“So what were you doing with this, then, huh?” he asks, showing you the paper in his other hand, waiting for you to answer, but not stepping away from you.

The truth is, you have no words in you to defend yourself. Suddenly, you’re left unarmed, empty and humiliated– but what’s worse, you’re left with no new information about the charity event, which means you’ve done all of this for absolutely nothing.

Seeing that you’re making no effort in answering the boy, he leans even closer to you, which makes your whole body tingle with what you presume is uncomfort, biting at your lower lip as your eyes lock with his mouth as he speaks to you. “Play fair, Y/N.”

Focusing on his plump, pink lips, you wonder if he uses a lip scrub or a lip balm– because there’s no way his lips are this luscious and beautiful, and so inviting…

“Get out of my room,” he orders, making your body unfreeze, feeling sweat drip down your back as you run out of the place, suddenly not having enough oxygen.

Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Jisung, we gotta do something,” you mourn, head in your hands as you sit at the table in your room, papers scattered all around you and a half-made banner laying on the carpet in the middle of the floor.

“We are doing something right now, Y/N,” Jisung mumbles with the paintbrush in his hand, leaning over the white sheet of paper, trying his hardest to not go over the lines you’ve scribbled onto the banner just a few minutes prior, ordering him to paint in the bubble letters of your banner.

Grunting, you turn around in your office chair, looking at the boy. He doesn’t seem as stressed as you feel right now– it’s only a week until the charity event is supposed to take place and you really, really don’t want to be thinking about how badly it will go if you don’t think of something big at this exact moment. You feel defenseless. You have zero information about what Chenle’s about to do, so you can’t get prepared to do something better. Jisung didn’t manage to get any information out of Jaemin, and while you were able to find Chenle’s plans in his room, he took the paper out of your hands and cornered you against the wall before you even managed to read a single sentence.

You’re selling cupcakes. Jisung said his mum will help and chip in more baked goods, since she’s a good cook, but you doubt that cookies and pastry will help you win the first place. This sounds like something Renjun and Jeno would do– and you hate to put yourself onto their level, because they’re not the greatest when it comes to business. You doubt you’ll beat Hyuck and Yangyang’s condom stand either. There’s a lot of guys at your university that will rather go for a condom than a cupcake.

“No, Jisung, you don’t understand. Cupcakes won’t win. We won’t win. Zhong Chenle and his big head will win, and that will be absolutely fucking infuriating. I won’t let that happen,” you exclaim, huffing.

“But you don’t even know what they’re going to sell! What if it’s really bad? We still have a chance to win,” Jisung smiles at you, trying to encourage you.

Bless him. Even when seeing you so annoyed and having to deal with your snappy attitude every day, since the nerves always get the worst of you, he still tries to be your rock and help you through it all. His words might not help you win and they for sure do not help you calm down, but he’s trying– and that’s the important part.

“Chenle’s the son of the wealthiest business man in this country, Jisung. He has winning in his fucking genes,” you roll your eyes, “and that’s why I need to think of something right now or else I’ll physically combust.”

Jisung just sighs at you, not really knowing how else to help you. He’s trying his hardest– and you appreciate it, despite the fact that your actions suggest otherwise– and this is not even his battle. He’s okay with being mediocre– he’s just cursed with the burden of his friend always trying their hardest to be an overachiever. It’s not healthy, but he doesn’t feel like he can do anything about it, really.

“Maybe I can… Maybe I can tell everyone that if I win, I’ll do a giveaway with the iPad. I’m sure that will lure some people in,” you mumble, fixing your eyes onto the poster of Ross Lynch stuck on your bedroom door, lost in thought.

Jisung looks at you with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what’s going on inside of that brain of yours. The scheming look on your face doesn’t look the nicest, but he won’t tell you that in fear of being beaten up on the ground.

“That’s…”

“An amazing idea? I know, right?” you grin, looking at your friend with euphoria running through your veins.

“Y/N, I don’t think-”

“Bingo!” you yelp, eyes glimmering with joy and excitement, “We are about to give everyone who buys two cupcakes a lottery ticket and then, if we win, we randomly pick someone and give them the iPad! This is a brilliant idea!!”

No amount of effort can make you stop now. Jisung won’t even try anymore.

“I’m going to work on it right now. This is perfect!” you grin.

Jisung sighs.

He kind of wanted that iPad…

Sitting in the library, your laptop open as you try hard to focus on studying after the frantic preparations for the charity event, your eyes are stuck to the screen, starting to hurt a little from how hard you’re concentrating. The world around you is a mere blur, the background noises being no distraction to your brain as you type away on your keyboard from time to time, taking notes.

You like to study alone. You never really got the magic of studying in groups, since every time you tried it with Jisung, you two just grew distracted and didn’t know how to focus on your studies, too busy gossiping and talking about anything and everything. So to go here like this, in the evening, the university library has become your safe haven.

When suddenly, there are footsteps landing into your ear, the noise making you lose your focus for a moment when the owner of them decides to sit in the space next to you, making you swiftly look around and see who dared to pay you a visit when you’re studying.

Met with the gaze of none other than Zhong Chenle himself, you suddenly shrink in size and bashfully look away from the male. You’re not used to the feeling of embarrassment in your veins, not used to how you feel pathetic in his eyes and how you really want to disappear from the face of the earth every time you notice him registering your existence. It’s all your fault anyway, for snooping around in his room and being caught, but you’re not ready to admit that to yourself just yet, even though the reality is slowly catching up on you.

“Hi,” he greets, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. A conversation between you and Chenle is a rare sight– you just like to jab at each other and scream curses each other’s way– and starting one with a greeting is even more unusual for the two of you. It’s like both of you lose all sense of formality whenever you’re around each other– only the hatred remains.

“Hello,” you mutter, nervously scratching your forearm. Not daring to meet his eyes, you suddenly feel like he has something above you– the reality of catching you red handed, the very moment at his party. You won’t admit it out loud, but it’s the most defeating thing you’ve ever felt in your whole entire life, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to recover from it. Never in a thousand years did you expect to be met with the fact that Zhong Chenle is above you in something, but it came down to it, and you don’t know what to do with this information.

Your posture screams hesitance. Not knowing how to act around him, you refrain from acting at all– you don’t think you’re in the position to be rude to him anymore, for it would make you seem even more petty. His presence makes you nervous, the tingling sensation in your whole body and the heat you feel rising to your cheeks making you the most uncomfortable you’ve felt ever since you were cornered up against the wall of Chenle’s room last weekend.

“What’s up?” he asks, the casual tone of his voice confusing you even further. Taking one short look at him, you try to scan his features and somehow find out his true intentions. The boy has an inviting smile on his face– making your heartbeat quicken with a detail you choose not to pay any attention to– and his eyes are soft, opposed to the stone cold look he usually has reserved for you.

“Um… not much, ‘m just studying, I guess…” you mumble, too confused to pay attention to just how lost and puppy-like you must look right in this moment. Kicking your foot up and down under the table, a nervous fixation to ground yourself, you await his next steps.

The boy hums in acknowledgement. If he noticed your state, at least he didn’t mention it– a fact you were grateful for. Cracking your knuckles in the silence of the library, you forget how to keep up a conversation– or you just never learned how to keep up a conversation with Zhong Chenle, of all people. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, when he just takes out his stuff from his backpack and starts working on his homework.

Watching him for a while, you clear your throat and just decide to get it over with. You don’t like the quiet tension in the air, wanting it to disappear, so you just face it with a confident face (well, the most confident you can master up right now). “What are you doing here?”

Your rival looks up at you from his textbook with furrowed brows, shrugging. “Studying.”

“Yeah,” you blink, “but… why are you studying next to me?”

“Is this spot not free?” he asks, obviously teasing you with how the very well-known shiteating grin slowly starts to appear on his face.

“I- I mean it- it’s free, but-”

“Then I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t study here,” he shrugs, momentarily pointing his look back to his textbook, driving you absolutely insane. Did he lose his mind? Was he having a fever?

“Chenle-”

“Look,” he says, looking up from the textbook again, turning to you with his full body– while also bumping into your knee with his for a second, making you jolt in a weird sense of electricity, “I know we’re not really on the best terms, but I think I’m done with being petty and acting like a child. Seeing that we’re kind of similar, in a way, I think we could even make good friends, so that’s what I’m trying to do here,” he says, smiling at you with that friendly expression he only reserves for his closest friends, making you feel light-headed. Are you having a fever?

“I- I don’t think I understand,” you mutter out, your expression lost. What was going on? Why did your rival suddenly want to be friends with you? After you searched through his room at one of his parties? You felt like you were having a weird dream.

“Let’s just… focus on our own projects for the charity event and forget about the rivalry. What do you say?” he asks, the glint in his eyes taking you off-guard.

What does one even say to that? You’ve spent your whole university years hating this boy, all for being too good at things you always wanted to be exceptional at. The rivalry made you so crazy you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore in the actions you were taking, and while it all felt worth it at the time, to see Chenle himself not even taking it that seriously made you feel even more embarrassed. Was this all just a one-sided battle?

Blinking a few times, you notice the boy out-stretching his hand for you to grip, the handshake a silent seal of the war between the two of you ending. “Friends?”

Gasping for air, you hesitantly reach for his hand, too lost in your own brain and thought spirals to even register what was going on around you. The contact of his skin on your burned, but you shook it nonetheless. “I- I wouldn’t say friends, exactly…”

“Acquaintances on good terms, then, got it,” he grins, seeing your empty eyes and the mess in your brain at the very moment. Suddenly, you feel a hand ruffle your hair, making you jump up in shock. “I’m sure you’ll do great, Y/N,” he grins, making you turn back to your homework and– although to no use– try to focus on the assignment again.

Feeling heat rising to your cheeks and your hands shake with nerves, the rest of the afternoon comes by like a blur.

Mixing the batter in one of the big bowls Jisung’s mum provided you with in their spacious kitchen, you are too lost in thought to even sing along to your favorite baking playlist your best friend put on to make the atmosphere lighter, despite the tension of the upcoming charity event rising. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy, when he cautiously approaches the matter.

“What’s gotten you so weird?” he asks, opening the oven and taking out the cupcake tray that’s been sitting in there, prepared for your baking session, since yesterday evening.

“I’m not weird,” you mumble, but don’t even meet his eyes. That’s an instant hint.

“Y/N, you’re not even singing along to One Direction right now, of course something’s up,” he says to prove his point, seeing you sigh and look up to the ceiling for a moment, seemingly debating on finally talking about what’s bugging you the most these days.

“Chenle approached me the other day… to make amends? I guess?” you mumble, shrugging.

Your best friend takes the information in, analyzing what you just uttered out of your lips. Are you sure you weren't dreaming? He wants to ask you if you’re sure it wasn’t all an image of your imagination, but he choses against it as he steps closer to you, scanning your face for any signs of mania.

“He did that after catching you looking through his stuff?” he clarifies, seeing you nod.

“That’s strange.”

“Isn’t it?” you ask, still not believing what you saw at the library the other day.

Jisung hums, furrowing his eyebrows to get his brain cells to work better, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Well, maybe he was sincere, however strange it might sound… He realized the little war you two have is childish and wanted both of you to have fun,” he shrugs, mirroring the exact words Chenle said at the library. Is this really so easy? Is this the final conclusion? The end of everything? You couldn’t just believe that.

“I don’t know…” you hum, moving to drape the cupcake batter into the tray, ready to bake it for tomorrow's event. Jisung helps you with the cleaning-up process, not wanting the burnt batter stuck on the tray to make the whole house smell like forest fire, wiping the excess away with tissues. After you’re done, he plops the tray into the oven and sets a timer for 15 minutes, resting his tall figure against the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you can… quit with the iPad giveaway thing? I mean, now that you don’t have to win, you can forget about that part. I think it’s kind of against the rules as well, since it’s a hint of false advertising? You’re supposed to win by selling the goods, and not by bribing them with an iPad, so I don’t think professor Lee will like that,” he mutters hesitantly, seeing your mouth open agape, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not. Just because Zhong Chenle hit his head or something, I won’t back away from this fight,” you sternly say.

“Y/N, I promise you it’s not a good idea. You’re just going to get in trouble-”

“I’m not! It’s totally legal, and if I really win, I’m ready to give the iPad away, if that’s what I’m gonna have to do, Jisung.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips at this, shaking his head. Yeah, maybe he is petty– maybe he just wants the iPad for himself, but at the same time, what he said was right. This wasn’t a fair game and he doesn’t think it will get approved by your business professor, no matter how hard you try to back it up.

“Life would be so much easier if you constantly didn’t try to impress Zhong Chenle,” Jisung mutters, making blood boil in you, anger felt at the tips of your fingertips.

“Take that back. I am not trying to impress him,” you coldly say, snapping.

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung rolls his eyes, “every single time, it’s all I have to be better than Chenle, I have to win against Chenle, I have to beat him in this and this and that… to me, it just seems like you want him to be impressed with your abilities, because you like him.”

Gasping, you catch the edge of the kitchen counter to steady yourself. “I do not like him. I absolutely despise him, that is,” you grit your teeth, trying to convince your best friend…. and maybe yourself as well.

Jisung just hums, mocking you. The look on your face is enough of a confirmation to him, he doesn’t have to fight you anymore. Besides, the looks you give the boy are surely not you trying to get his business strategy. Not in the gym class, when your rival is a little sweaty and overly-enthusiastic about basketball, at least.

“I still think you should stop with the iPad thing, though,” he says, crouching down to the oven to check up on the cupcakes.

Angrily stomping, you reach towards your backpack on the ground, taking out your papers for the charity event so you can quickly calculate how many batches of the batter you’re going to have to make to fill your goal. Looking through the stack of papers, seeing worksheets from English class and old exam papers that you should’ve thrown out long ago, you disagree with your partner. “Absolutely not, I think-” you stop in your tracks, looking through the papers, still not finding the ones you’re looking for.

Leaning back towards your bag, you stumble through it, still not finding your charity event plans and documents. Stress rising inside of you, knowing too well that you always have the papers with you and there’s no way you left it at home, the reality dawns on you, making you scream in despair. Of course Zhong Chenle’s sudden amends were a little weird.

“That motherfucker stole my charity event plans while I was too busy freaking out over his charming smile!” you yelp out.

Jisung snickers at the state of you. He called it.

When you’re 6 years old, you go to school for the first time. You manage to make every single teacher in your elementary school gasp in amazement as you tell them that you already know how to read and that you don’t need help with signing your textbooks– you know how to write your name as well. As you grow, you only get more intellectual; being put into special level classes, being told you were the best pupil out of the whole school, being constantly praised and made to believe that you are, simply put, much better than everyone else your age.

When you’re 19 years old, you get to university. The gifted child in you starts slowly dying out with the pressure of assignments and the realization that maybe, your whole life, you’ve been lied to and you’re not as extraordinary as everyone told you you were. At 19, you meet Zhong Chenle– the model student, the social butterfly, the teacher’s pet– and suddenly, he’s your enemy. You promise yourself to always be better than him. That itself was your only goal.

When you’re almost 20, standing in the enormous gym of your university, looking over at Zhong Chenle’s stand with fast food and the giveaway tickets for a brand new iPad being given with every purchase above 5 dollars, the flood of people gladly giving money to the man dressed in a neat black suit, looking like the businessman he, at heart, truly is, you finally admit that you’re losing.

The cupcakes stay abandoned at the trays, no one paying attention to all the effort you and Jisung gave into the charity event. If you really think about it, it’s kind of unfair– you did play fair, despite your previous antics, and you did everything in your power to raise as much money as you could. Looking at the lonely pastries, you feel defeated.

“Want one?” you ask Jisung, pointing towards the ones covered with pink icing– the exact ones he wanted to eat yesterday evening instead of dinner, after several hours of baking– seeing the boy furrow his brows in confusion.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat them until the event ends,” he says, watching over your dull look.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it’s over for us anyways, so I don’t really care anymore,” you proclaim as you take a bite of the cupcake, not even paying attention to the icing smearing all over your face.

The boy next to you only pouts at your argument, not used to seeing you so discouraged. He can’t say you’re not right– hell, he does have eyes and common sense, he can see the row of people waiting for Zhong Chenle’s fries from McDonald’s and pizza from Papa John’s– but still, he expected more determination from your ambitious persona.

“Y/N,” he whines, “it’s okay. Maybe we can still win,” he lies through his teeth, trying to cheer you up.

“Jisung, look at Chenle’s stand.”

“I am looking.”

“Do you still think we can win?”

“No,” he says, “but I thought my white lies could make you feel better.”

“Well, they can’t.”

“Okay, just eat your cupcake, will you?” he mutters, sighing at the state of you. Some freshmen girls come by to buy a cute little cupcake, but the few dollars in your basket right now won’t make any difference to the money moves your moral enemy is making.

“I tried so hard, Jisung,” you mourn with a full mouth, letting your emotions run free, “I tried so hard, and I still got nothing. This is so embarrassing, you can’t even imagine. I was supposed to be the winner, I was supposed to have the masterplan,” you complain, seeing Jisung sympathetically, although a little absent-mindedly, nod at all your points and arguments.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you can’t win all the time. It’s not embarrassing,” he encourages you, slyly taking a cupcake off the tray and biting into it, still acting cautious in case you decide to change your mind and revoke your approval to eat your goods.

“It is! You can’t imagine how defeating this feels.”

“I can see it on your face, sweetheart. Maybe if you stop frowning…?” Jisung mumbles, making you glare at him momentarily, his insides loosening up a little from the image of taking your mind off the issue at hand for just a few seconds.

“We have the last few minutes until the charity event is over!” you hear the voice of professor Lee through a megaphone she borrowed from the drama club, making you grunt. “Everyone, the sale is over at 2pm! Count your money after and bring it to me.”

Sighing, you don’t even try to sell any last-minute cupcakes anymore, opting to gather the money you’ve raised today. Quickly counting it and finding a scrap of paper to scribble down the amount (which is a sad, poor 20 dollars, if any of you were interested), you put the money into a zip-lock back and walk over to your professor, handing it in.

“Why did you rush it? Maybe someone would want-”

“Jisung, just… leave it. I’m over this already,” you say, sitting back next to your best friend, seeing him pout– mirroring your saddened expression– suddenly making you feel bad for impacting the mood of your business partner so much. “But hey, we had fun, didn’t we?”

Jisung looks at you in disbelief, breaking out into a grin at your poor attempt at easing the mood. “I guess we did, yeah,” he notes, “I know I did, although my stomach kind of still hurts from eating all the left-over icing from yesterday.”

“I told you there were raw eggs in that, what if you get salmonella, for fuck’s sake?” you sigh, shaking your head at him.

“It’s not salmonella! I just don’t handle sugar well-”

Your conversation is ended soon with a noise of a gong, signaling that the charity fundraiser was now over and every single stand should stop selling their goods. Looking around, you see the gym slowly empty out, leaving behind only the business majors that participated in the event, all counting up their raised money.

“Dude, I think we got around 150,” you hear Yangyang gasp from the stand next to yours, making you sigh with the information that even the condom stand raised more money than your cupcakes that were baked with care and love (and maybe a little bit of spite for Zhong Chenle. You can’t see it on them, though, so you guess it’s fine).

The next events come by in a whim– everyone hands in the money they raised at the fundraiser, one by one, gossipping about how much they’ve earned and how good they’re doing. Throughout the whole process, your eyes are glued to one person in particular– the one you were competing with in the first place.

Zhong Chenle moves through the place like he owns it, like it’s his own prestigious branch of his successful business, dressed formally, now shrugging off the suit jacket, leaving him only in a stylish white button-down and black pants, leaving you gasping for air. Grinning to his companion, Na Jaemin– although dressed similarly, but not leaving the same impact– you can only imagine how much he’s shit talking you right now, laughing maniacally at the fact that he stole your plan and won with it, taking all the credit and being the best yet again. It makes your stomach turn and twist in angry knots, feeling stupid each time your eyes flash down to his toned forearms when he moves away the things from the little stand, cleaning it up; for if you would’ve paid less attention to the man with the name Zhong Chenle, you wouldn’t feel half as defeated as you do right now.

“Stop ogling him,” Jisung teases, making you grunt.

“I’m trying to kill him with my glare.”

“I think you confused it with heart-eyes, sweetie-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’ll choke you with your favorite pink cupcakes,” you smile at him innocently, making the boy shut up instantly, fearing for his own life.

Professor Lee triumphally stands in the middle of the gym, looking around at everyone. The proud smile on her face tells you that the other stands most likely made more money than yours did, earning the charity a solid amount of money that your university doesn’t have to be ashamed of. The only thing is that you are ashamed– of yourself, though. You thought you’d do better than you did, but you guess you have to come to terms with the fact that you can’t always be the winner.

“Everyone,” the professor starts her speech, “I am really grateful for every single one of you standing here right now. I want to thank you all for your effort, and I also will be grading everyone with an A for this event, because I can see that all of you truly worked your hardest. Now, though, is the time to announce the team that earned the most money, and therefore, won the little competition I made to motivate you.”

Looking around at everyone, you suddenly feel like you’re watching Eurovision, waiting for the points to be added up until 2am, slowly losing your motivation to keep watching further. Professor Lee smiles before she turns to the stand expected to win, making everyone’s suspicions correct.

“The team that made the most money, ladies and gentlemen, is Zhong Chenle and Na Jaemin,” she proclaims, making the boys scream in joy, jumping up and down in their places as they rush into a hug. They look like their hard work has paid off after 20 years of effort, however, the only work they did was steal your plan and buy some fast food… pathetic, really. Seeing the wide grin on Chenle’s face, you find yourself rolling your eyes, especially when your make eye contact with him and quickly force yourself to look away. “However,” the professor continues, making the boy’s faces fall.

“I was met with the information that you two violated the rules,” she says, making Chenle furrow his brows in confusion.

“H-how-”

“You worked with false advertisement, which, as I already said, was against the rules of the whole event.”

“How was this false advertisement?” he asks, getting all defensive. Something inside of you lights up at the sight of him all frustrated, but you wouldn’t say it out loud, for you think Jisung would accuse you of being a sadist.

“What you were supposed to be selling was the food, although I don’t agree with it being store-bought either, but I’m willing to ignore that fact,” she explains, “but what you did instead was sell tickets to your iPad giveaway, which was not in the business plan you’ve given me a few days ago.”

“But professor Lee, it’s not like that-”

“Therefore, you will not get the iPad, and the price goes to the second place, which is Lee Yangyang and Lee Donghyuck. Congratulations, boys.”

The duo on your right fist bumps and screams at the top of their lungs, making everyone in the university gym scowl with the sharp pain in their ears. Now, this wasn’t exactly the outcome you were expecting… you can’t say you hate it, though. Turning to Jisung, ignoring the yells of despair uttered out of the mouth of Zhong Chenle, complaining that condoms weren’t technically allowed as the product for sale, you hug your best friend with stars in your eyes, tugging him closer. He was right with his previous arguments, after all. Not that you'd admit it to him, since you're still super petty, but you're glad you didn't proceed with your innitial plan nonetheless.

“Woah, there,” Jisung gasps as he hugs you back, “we didn’t win, Y/N, though…”

“I know,” you hum into his chest, satisfied.

“So…”

“I’m just happy Zhong Chenle isn’t the winner,” you grin, pulling away from the boy, ready to celebrate the win of the two dumbasses in your business class. You never thought you’d see the day when Chenle is beaten by a duo that rarely attends the class, but you’re more happy than ever to let them indulge in the joy right now.

Hearing someone clear their throat behind you, you turn around. Surprised to see Chenle there, your smile freezes at your face, making you look like you’ve just been paralysed, earning yourself a kick into your shin from Park Jisung sitting at the chair next to you before he excuses himself and leaves for a bathroom break.

“Hi,” you greet as you see Chenle sheepishly look at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“You got me there, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief, “I didn’t take you for such a mastermind,” he adds, making you confused.

“What?”

“The plan in your bag… you had it there because you knew I’d take it, didn’t you? You were trying to make me lose all along,” Chenle adds, finally bringing clarity into your brain. He’s not right– you were just too stupid to realise the consequences of your future actions in that moment, but now you’re glad the universe worked in your favor and you were too gullible to trust your moral enemy in the moment. You may have been weak back then, but now, you’re the winner out of the two of you– and you can’t say it doesn’t make your ego rise to enormous heights.

“Y-yeah…” you hum, not realizing your expression gives it away almost immediately, bringing Chenle the last hint of confidence he needs before he takes his next step towards you. The knowledge that you didn’t plan to sabotage him, and that this was self-sabotage all along, makes the boy content– you may hate him, but not as much. The fact that you were so out of your mind to let him take your plans right under your nose must be a hint of something.

“So…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “what I said back then in the library still stands, though,” he says, chuckling. “I know I kind of lied back then, but now I mean it. I don’t… I don’t really want us to fight anymore, and I actually think the two of us would make a great pair- I mean, friends, so…”

Blinking at him a few times, feeling heat rising to your cheeks, you feel like you’re having another fever dream. There’s no competition right now, no business strategies, no exams to be taken. So… the intentions behind his words must be truthful, right?

“Um, I…” you start, but end up gasping like fish on sand, at a loss for words. Flickering your eyes from his to your feet and back to his shy smile, you feel like your brain is overheating. Curse hormones, really… it can’t be anything other than that. There’s no other reason why your brain keeps contemplating if this is him asking you out, and no reason why you so desperately want that accusation to be true.

“We can hang out after this, if you want,” Chenle suggests, rocking a little in his place, “with- with Jaemin and Jisung as well, since they seemed to get along…” he adds, the hint of blush creeping onto his cheeks making you want to scream into your pillow with overwhelmingness.

“That would be great,” you say, seeing the boy nod at your words, relief visibly flashing behind his eyes.

“Okay, great,” he smiles, “I’ll just get my things and I’ll find you later?”

“Sounds good,” you nod, your brain turning into a foggy mess.

Watching him turn on his heels and walk towards Jaemin standing on the other side of the gym, grinning at his friend with a suggestive wiggle to his eyebrows, you zone out. Is this your reality? Did you shift into another universe where the two of you don’t want to kill each other? How did you even move on from those emotions?

“You okay?” Jisung suddenly emerges from behind you, feeling shocked at the sight of you completely unfocused and still in your movements.

“Mhmm,” you peep, taking deep breaths.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, turning to your friend. “Do you wanna hang out with Jaemin later?”

You meet Zhong Chenle at 19, hating everything about him with burning passion, despising the way he always made you feel challenged and on your toes. He shakes with your word, turning you into a competitive mess, always trying your best to be better than him at everything, just so you could see the defeated look on his face and get acknowledgement.

When you’re almost 20, you realize that a hint of what you always wanted was acknowledgement from Zhong Chenle.

It might not solve all your problems, but maybe turning less competitive is a start.

#nct #nct dream #chenle #zhong chenle #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #chenle x reader #chenle fluff #chenle scenario #chenle fic #chenle oneshot #chenle fanfic #chenle drabble #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct dream scenario #nct dream fic #nct fic

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raibebe · 6 months

Text

Genre: angst, horror(?), lots of hurt and a little comfort Words: 6.101 Prompt: freshly turned vampire Chenle

Warnings: undefined illness, vampires (duh), graphic descriptions of burns, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, literal murder, semi-graphic(?) descriptions of murder, Chenle is going batshit crazy, he’ll be okay I swear

A/N: Uhm... Hi! A Chenle fic... That's new... I just want to say that he is my baby and I'm sorry for what he's been put through but he's a baby vamp and in my book, they need tragic backstories... In case you have noticed, I may or may not have accidentally created another universe, please excuse me, I just love world- and character-building...

In case you feel like there are any more warnings missing, please tell me! Also as always, huge thanks to @wooahaeproductions who makes sense of my long ass sentences! 🤍 And to @starlitmark for being awesome and supportive! 💕

Chenle was sick. He had been sick for a long time. Ever since he could remember, his mother would make him drink bitter liquids and swallow pills the size of small bird eggs. He was seldom allowed to play outside like his younger siblings. His father always said it was so he would have more time to read and study, so he could be a better king in the future but Chenle was sure it was to keep him from the outside and whatever harm there was. The physicians never told him what was wrong with him when they would whisper amongst themselves and by the time he had grown into his sharp features, he had stopped asking what was wrong when their frowns deepened. He let himself be pricked by needles and his body folded into different positions without a single word of complaint.

“He is very sick,” he had overheard the head physician tell his mother one night when he had snuck out of bed to watch the blood moon from the gardens and not through his tinted windows. “Have you found a cure yet?” “I’m afraid there is none, your Majesty.” A deafening clap had resounded through the empty corridor after that, making the young prince flinch. He knew that sound. His mother had hit the man who was trying to heal her son. “Find one,” the Queen spat, venom dripping from her words, “He is the crown prince. And he will take his throne. He will wear his crown.”

That night had burned itself into Chenle’s young mind. On one hand, he knew that he was doomed to die young. On the other hand he had his mother on his side, who brought in physicians from all over their lands and even beyond to examine and heal her only son.

As a child, he had never understood why the physicians said that he was sick. He never felt sick. But the older he got, the more he could feel the toll the sickness took on his body. When he was twirling his sisters around in the ballroom to the sweet melodies the musicians were playing, he would often get dizzy and call for breaks after only a couple of songs. He had to stop his walks through the elaborate rose garden his mother curated soon after he started because his legs just wouldn’t listen to his commands on the way back. And that autumn, he found himself bedridden, a fever tinting his pale skin pink despite how cold he felt. Chenle was lucid for the first weeks but as the days became shorter and shorter, he would slip in and out of consciousness, often waking up to the pinpricks of pain from another needle. The physicians had started to not only make him drink their increasingly worse concoctions but also inject him with things. He wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

One night, beneath the light of the full moon, he woke up from his delirium to the Queen sitting next to him. She was clad in her bedrobes and patting his face with a cool cloth. “My sweet child,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his damp forehead. “I am going to die,” Chenle had answered, his voice hoarse from not speaking for days. “No,” his mother had choked out, tears filling her eyes, “I will not let that happen.” Weakly, he reached for her delicate hands, using all his strength to squeeze her hand. “Let me go.” “I can’t,” the Queen mouthed, holding her son’s bony hand up to her lips as tears streamed down her face, “You’re my everything, Lele. My little star.”

Chenle’s mother had cried that night until the prince had fallen under again, his grip becoming even weaker. Once her tears had dried, she looked at the sunken-in face of her son who used to have the most adorable chubby cheeks when he was just a child. And with that in mind, she made a decision. She called for her personal messenger and swore him to secrecy before she told him to bring in the man she had vowed to only ever send for as her very last resort. The man wasn’t a physician. She wasn’t even sure if he was a man. He was a myth. A miracle healer so to speak. But she was ready to pray for a miracle right about now. Chenle was her everything and she was not going to lose him.

On a rainy night a couple of days later, the Queen was spending each waking hour watching over her son’s fever dreams when a man hidden beneath a thick coat with a big hood was banging at the castle’s doors, claiming that the Queen had sent for him: The miracle healer. The queen rushed down the stairs to personally guide him to her son’s sleeping quarters, telling the man all about her son’s condition but he silenced her with just a wave of his hand at the sight of the Prince. The man - his figure still hidden beneath the thick coat - bent over Chenle, examining the condition he was in and feeling his burning skin. “I can heal him,” he concluded with a deep, raspy voice, “But it comes with a price.” “Anything,” the Queen immediately complied, “You will get anything you need to save my son.” “Oh, the price is for him to pay,” the healer clarified. “Will he be healthy again? So he can play with his siblings and take his rightful place on the throne?” “Yes, my Queen. He will be stronger than he has ever been.” “Heal him,” the Queen ordered, “At any price.” “So shall it be,” he bowed his head, “Can I request for some privacy to perform my craft?” With a heavy heart, the Queen nodded and let the heavy wooden door fall into the lock behind her.

The Queen wasn’t sure how long the man was left alone with her son. She had counted three nearby lightning strikes before the man walked through the door again. “He needs rest,” the man told her, “When the moon kisses the top of the trees for the second time tomorrow night, he will wake up.” “And he will be healed?” “If he’s left alone until then, his body will overcome everything,” he promised and with another bow, he excused himself to walk down the corridor. The Queen’s heart longed to see her son again after he had been left alone in the man’s company for so long but if his healing was disturbed by her presence, she was not willing to risk it.

The next day felt like it was several moons long to the Queen and she found herself walking past her son’s bedroom door over and over again. When the night had fallen, the Queen couldn’t fall asleep next to her snoring husband who had always taken their son’s sickness a lot better than she had. In the end, she got up to go to her sunroom where she was watching the moon make its way along the night sky until it was barely meeting the trees. Jumping out of her seat, she all but ran to her son’s chambers where she briefly collected herself and softly opened the door.

Chenle was lying in bed just as she had left him yesterday, unmoving and pale, but his cheeks weren’t pink with fever anymore and his hair was dry. With a smile on her lips, she rushed over to his side to cup his face, to feel the swell of his cheeks in her palms. When her palm met his skin, the Queen flinched back. Her son’s skin was cold. Colder than she had ever felt him or any of his siblings after they had played outside in the snow. “No, no, no,” she mumbled, frantically peeling back the thick layers of blankets to feel the rest of his body which beneath his light blouse and trousers was just as cold as his face. Throughout the whole disturbance, he didn’t move a muscle and could be moved like a doll. With tears blinding the Queen’s sight, she squeezed her son’s wrist to look for a pulse. But it never came. Her son had died.

With a toe-curling scream, she laid her body over Chenle’s, wetting his blouse with her tears and rattling his unmoving body with her sobs. “Mother?” The first time the Queen heard her son’s voice, she was sure she was hallucinating. She could feel his cold body beneath her. He was no more. “Why are you crying, mother?” It was almost like she could feel his voice resounding in his chest. “I’m feeling all better, you don’t need to cry.” When she felt hands stroking through her hair, she shot upright. And like a miracle, her son was looking right back at her, a smile on his full lips. “I’m feeling better,” he repeated himself, “I’m hungry.” “Lele,” the Queen gasped, cupping his face again. But just like the first time, his skin was as cold as ice. “I’m fine, mother,” he reassured her. With trembling hands, the Queen reached over to the nightstand to lift the candle she had brought in. And to her horror, her son’s beautiful deep brown eyes were no more. Instead, she was looking into the bright red eyes of a predator.

“What’s wrong, mother?” Chenle didn’t understand why his mother’s eyes were so wide and why she wouldn’t answer him. Was he having another fever dream? But he felt better. Better than he had ever felt. Like he could uproot trees. Sitting up, he reached out for his mother who only flinched back. “I’m well. I’m healed.” “Stay away from me,” she pressed out, sliding off of the bed and slowly walking towards the door. “What is happening, mother? I don’t understand. I’m so hungry.” “You are a monster. I should have never gone this far.” His mother’s words cut through the young prince like a knife. And they hurt even more than the sound of the door falling back into the lock and the key turning to lock him inside.

Why was she not happy to see him be better? Looking down at his body, he couldn’t see why his mother had called him a monster. His skin looked pale but he had been pale all his life, especially in the last years. But he had meat on his bones. His forearms were strong when he flexed the muscle. This was good. The same went for the rest of his body when he patted himself down. Everything was in order, his body had healed. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and getting up, he didn’t feel any dizziness or nausea, only hunger swirling in his gut.

Carefully, the Prince took a couple of steps. To his surprise, his knees didn’t buckle and his legs didn’t give out. With a wide grin, he walked over to the window and looked outside into the gardens. Oh, how he had missed seeing the green of the trees and the little bursts of colors telling him that it was way into the autumn season. Feeling like he was on top of the world, he looked over to his mirror and to his horror, all that he could see were his clothes standing in his room. Was this a dream after all? A nightmare? Slowly, the Prince waved his hand and the sleeve of his blouse followed suit. He frantically pulled the garment off and threw it to the ground. His torso still wasn’t visible in the mirror. Completely in shock, Chenle realized that he couldn’t hear his heartbeat hammer inside his skull or his blood rushing in his ears. Pressing his hands firmly to his chest, he tried to feel for a heartbeat. Even with his eyes pressed shut to concentrate, he couldn’t feel anything. Falling to his knees, he unseeingly stared at the intricate designs on his carpet. He had heard of this before. Read books about the condition. He hadn’t thought it to be true, that it was possible. But he was the living, or rather dead proof of it. He was a vampire. His mother had somehow turned him into a vampire.

Chenle wasn’t sure how long he kneeled there on the carpet, trying to make sense of his raging thoughts with nothing to keep him company but the sounds of the night and the occasional servant hurrying along the corridors. Why would his mother let him be turned into a vampire if she despised the creatures of the night? Why go this far if she was scared and disgusted of her only son now? Did his father know? His sisters? What would they do with him? Keep him locked up? Let him starve?

At that thought, the gnawing feeling of hunger punched him in the gut like a boxer. Gasping, he toppled over, his arms gripping his bare stomach as if they could shield him from the pain. When he tried to bite down on his lip to distract himself from the pain in his stomach, a piercing pain shot through him and dark droplets of blood fell onto the pristine carpet. Fangs. His fangs had dropped and punctured his lip. Bringing his hand up, Chenle gently felt the edge of the sharp teeth that were digging into his lower lip. And as if the gnawing feeling of hunger wasn’t enough, pain was also settling into his gums where his fangs sat.

With a groan, he lifted himself upright again, his hands clenched into fists. He needed to talk to his mother. There was just one other thing he hadn’t considered: His bedroom was facing east. So when he was moving his head up and out of the shadow that his window cast, a burning pain shot through the back of his head and with a blood-curdling scream, Chenle fell again, cradling his head and curling into a ball. But in the process, more of his body got exposed to the light of the rising sun, causing painful blisters to appear on the reddened skin of his back. With another scream, he threw his body in the direction of his bed, rolling beneath the heavy bed frame to shield his body from the scathing sun. Even if he didn’t need to anymore, his chest was heaving with heavy breaths as he stared at his skin healing itself: the blisters getting smaller and smaller until the skin had knit itself back together, the red, irritated color fading slowly until he was left with milky-white skin. Not even a single blemish showed what had just happened.

Fascinated by what his body could do, he experimentally grabbed onto one of the pieces of wood that were supporting his thick mattress. He slowly tightened his grip and sure enough, without even using much strength, the wood began to creak and splinter beneath his fingers but none of the wood was able to pierce through his skin.

He was truly invincible. Well- if you forgot about the incident with the sunlight. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Chenle realized that he had no other choice but to wait it out. Once the sun had set, he’d be able to talk to his mother so they could figure out what they could do about his…new condition. That was what it was, right? Just another sickness. One that made him incredibly strong and heal really fast but unable to see his own reflection or walk in the sunshine. But his people already knew that their Prince was sick. So they could just tell them that the Prince was never to leave the palace walls and put thicker curtains in the throne room to block out the sun. It could all be alright again.

Chenle wasn’t sure how long he was holding out beneath his bed already, the only thing to keep him company being the gnawing feeling of hunger inside his belly. He was sure he had heard the guards changing twice in front of his room, speaking with hushed voices about how none understood why the Prince was to be kept inside his room when he was bedridden. With a bitter snort, Chenle had thrown a punch against his bed frame that left the wood with a splintered indent of his fist and nothing more. He wasn’t sure where this sudden burst of anger came from, he usually wasn’t this hot-headed but the feeling of hunger was slowly driving him insane along with the pain in his jaw.

When the sun had almost completed its journey along the sky, the patches of sunlight coming through his windows stretched further and further. Chenle was all but vibrating out of his skin. Thoughts were hard to formulate and even harder to keep from flowing away when all he wanted to do was to sink his teeth into something or rather someone to quench both the ache in his jaw and the beast sitting where his stomach used to be.

Over the course of this day, which must have been the longest in his entire life, he had let the sun burn his skin over and over again, testing the limits of his body and how the strength of the sun would affect him and he was starting to regret it. It had only made him more hungry. Or thirsty, he should probably say. Briefly, he wondered if he could eat raw and bloody meat but as soon as the thought came, it got lost inside his head again.

But instead of his brain going in circles about how hungry he was and how he could almost taste the sweat of the guard standing in front of his room, a sudden pain seemed to split his skull in two, ripping a scream from Chenle’s parched throat. Gripping his hair tightly, he tried to understand what was happening. It made no sense. He had been hiding here all day and it had been fine.

The invisible knife that seemed to have lodged itself in his skull also appeared to be poisonous. A fire began flowing inside his veins, filling his chest with a sensation as if he was burning alive from the inside out, the pain far worse than when he had burned his back earlier.

Curling up into a ball, Chenle clawed at his own skin, digging his sharp nails into the skin until it broke but it did nothing to ease or distract him from the phantom pains. Screaming and crying, he convulsed on the floor, dripping what little blood he had left in his body onto his light carpet. Just as sudden as the pain had come, it was gone again, leaving Chenle feeling almost hollow. He wasn’t sure for how long he blankly stared at the drops of crimson that stained the pristine carpet but he simply didn’t have it in him to move. It almost felt like he was back in a feverous state, his consciousness floating somewhere above his body.

With another cry of agony, he came back to his body, his chest heaving and his head dizzy. He needed to get out from beneath the bed, the dark wood suddenly too close. Blinded by a sudden onslaught of panic, Chenle - not yet used to the new strength his body possessed - shoved against the underside of the bed, splintering the wood and breaking the frame. He wasn’t sure how exactly he got out from beneath the bed but when he finally stood at his window, the handle broken and the cool breeze of the evening fanning over his skin, his bed was nothing more than a pile of wood with a mattress on top and rogue feathers floating around the room. The presence of the moon helped to calm the young vampire and with controlled breaths, he got his chest to stop rattling with panic, only slightly cracking the windowsill with how tightly he had gripped onto it.

“Prince Chenle!” A voice called from the outside and he could hear several heavy footsteps outside of his door before the key turned in the lock. Several guards stepped inside his room and the moment the smell of their bodies hit Chenle’s nose, hell broke loose: He didn’t even process the words that left the first guard’s mouth, his head snapping around to see them reaching for their swords. They were here to kill him. His own mother had ordered his death. He couldn’t die. He had done nothing wrong.

With his face contorted in anger, he dashed towards the group. With a single punch to the guard’s side, Chenle was able to hear bones crack beneath his fist and the guard’s sword falling to the ground with a loud noise. When he cried out in pain, it made the veins in his neck stand out so temptingly, that Chenle couldn’t stop himself. With his fangs already dropped, he opened his jaws wide and buried his teeth in the guard’s neck, the flesh ripping easily as fresh blood flooded his tongue. It was heaven. He had never tasted anything quite like this. None of the expensive wines he had drank during banquets could even come close to the explosion of flavor on his tongue.

He needed more. More. Annoyed that his meal was moving, Chenle gripped the guard’s head and forced it further to the side. He felt something snap and the man went limp in his grip but he couldn’t care less when he buried his teeth again to swallow more of the crimson liquid that soothed the ache in his stomach and left his mind reeling with pleasure.

Sadly, the other guards must have snapped themselves out of their stupor and they unsheathed their swords as well. The sound of the mental scraping against the leather pulled Chenle’s attention from the corpse in his arms to the other guards. With a wicked grin on his lips, he let the corpse fall to the ground in a heap of their own blood and after he wiped the blood from his lips, he was delighted to see absolute fear in the guards’ eyes.

“You can’t run from me,” he drawled before he pounced, snapping the neck of the one closest to him and burying his teeth deep into the throat of the second one, letting him drop to the floor as well after he took another deep gulp of blood.

“My mother,” he spoke slowly as he approached the last guard, “Where is the Queen?” The guard didn’t answer, irritating Chenle to high heavens. His sword was trembling in his hand and his eyes were so wide, Chenle was afraid they’d just pop out of their sockets and roll over the stained floorboards like marbles. “I asked a question. Won’t you answer your Prince?” He tried again, gripping the sword between his fingers to point it down so he could step closer to the frozen guard, bringing his mouth up against his neck. “Tell me where the Queen is,” he whispered again, deliberately letting his teeth scrape the skin. “Sh- She- She is in her- her sunroom, my- my Prince,” the guard stuttered pathetically. “Thank you for your service,” Chenle chuckled darkly before he finally gave in to the urge to bite into his neck, already addicted to the taste of fresh blood.

With a satisfying thud, the vampire let the last body drop to the floor as well, eyeing the carnage left behind with a sick smile on his face. How had his mother ever thought that four measly guards were enough to take him down? On bare feet and with blood dripping down his chin onto his chest, Chenle stepped over the corpses and into the empty hallway, leaving bloody footprints behind on his way to his mother’s sunroom.

With his newly heightened senses, Chenle could easily tell that there were more people than just his mother near her sunroom. Just as he had assumed, in front of the room stood another three guards and to Chenle’s surprise the head of the guards was among them. “Move,” he growled as he stepped into view, baring his teeth to show his bloody fangs. “You’re alive,” the guard on the left gasped, reaching for his sword with a shaky hand. “Of course I am,” the Prince just laughed, “You didn’t really think four measly guards would be enough to kill me?” When no one dared to answer, the vampire barked out a laugh. “Oh, but you really did. How stupid of you.” “Where are my men?” The head of the guards demanded to know as if their blood on Chenle’s body wasn’t enough of a tell.

“In hell,” was Chenle’s dark answer and within a blink of an eye, he was at the man’s throat, his teeth easily ripping through cartilage and muscle tissue. A last pathetic gurgle left the dying man’s lips before he dropped to the ground and Chenle spit out the piece of flesh he had ripped out. The two other guards watched in shock, frozen in place. “What?” He cocked his head to the side, watching their commander twitch in a pool of his own blood. “Scared?” When they didn’t answer, he went on. “Dying is peaceful. I would know.” “Please,” one of the guards pleaded pathetically, his sword falling to the ground with a loud thud, “I- I have a wi- a wife and- and a son. He- he just started a walk an-“ Chenle didn’t let the guard finish, grabbing his head to smash it into the stone wall.

“That was annoying,” he sighed, delighted at the cracking he had felt in the skull. “Now what am I going to do with you?” Instead of answering, the last guard simply fell to his knees, his sword limply in his hand. “Pft,” the prince snorted, “I don’t know if that one was more or less pathetic.” To one up the previous performance, the guard bared his neck as well, presenting Chenle with the tempting thump of his carotid. “Oh, it’s definitely you,” he snickered, stepping over to the sweating man, “Thank you for the meal.” With a moan, Chenle buried his fangs in the man’s throat, blood rushing out of the wound and onto his tongue, the man’s fear making it that much sweeter.

Once the beast in his chest was satiated by the sweet blood, another body joined the two of his comrades on the floor. They did look pathetic even in their death. Maybe Chenle should close their eyes. But before he could bend down, a sound in his mother’s sunroom caught his attention: a quiet creak. The hidden door his mother thought he and his siblings didn’t know about. He would not let her get away. She needed to hear him out.

Bursting into the room with the big windows all along the side of it making it feel like they were actually sitting in the gardens, the door all but fell off the hinges from the force. Chenle found the Queen almost stepping into the secret pathway. “Don’t. Move,” he ordered, holding himself back from pouncing on the woman who had turned him into a monster. “Chenle don’t do this,” she spoke with a quivering voice, her eyes shaking as she took in her son, blood dripping from his bare chest. “Don’t do what, mother?” “You don’t want to kill me.” “But you wanted to kill me,” he shot back. “I never intended for this to happen to you,” the Queen pleaded, her knuckles turning white around the handle of her secret pathway. “I’m faster than you. Don’t do that,” Chenle coldly reminded her, watching with a sick delight at how his mother’s hand shook when she released the handle. “Chenle…” “No. You. You did this to me. You didn’t ask if I wanted this. And then you decide to just have me murdered because you can’t have your only son, your successor to the throne be a vampire,” he accused her. “Well I didn’t want this either,” she interrupted him with a loud scream that rang in his sensitive ears, “You were dying and the physicians had tried everything!” “I told you to let me die!”

That of all things seemed to make his mother shut up. “I told you to let me go. I made my peace with it,” he added with a more quiet voice, all but pleading. “I couldn’t, Chenle,” the Queen answered just as quietly, “I couldn’t just let you die like this.” “And yet, you killed me anyway.” “I didn’t know,” she choked out, tears filling her eyes as she opened her arms for him to fall into like he was back to being just a child. “Mother,” he sniffled, his body losing all tension as he stumbled into her familiar embrace, staining the silk of her gown with the blood that was sticking to his frame. It was so strange how quickly things had changed and it made the embrace feel both familiar and foreign at the same time. “I’m so sorry, my little star,” his mother breathed quietly, adjusting her grip around him.

“I forgi-“ Chenle couldn’t finish his sentence, pain bloomed in his flank and he couldn’t believe his own eyes when he looked down to see a dagger lodged deep inside his body. “Mother..?” “It’s better like this,” she whispered, gently stroking a strand of hair behind his ear. If Chenle still had a heartbeat, he was sure that his blood would be rushing through his ears so loudly that he wouldn’t be able to hear anything else. His chest started to heave with nonsense breaths, the pace erratic as a red veil seemed to fall over his vision. “You’re dead to me,” he snarled, watching in delight how his mother’s eyes widened before he felt his fangs drop and everything around him turned into a mess of blood and anger.

“Oh little one…” The softly spoken words were the first thing Chenle sensed consciously in a while. With great effort, he tried to focus his blurry vision. “What a mess you made,” the voice went on before Chenle heard footsteps. The man was coming closer. Finally, his vision seemed to clear and he could recognize the bloody corpse he held clutched to his chest, its face distorted in a mask of fear. The Queen was dead. With a wet thud, her body fell from his grip into the pool of blood on the floor. A whimper dared to slip past his lips but he held it in as he bit down hard. His fangs had retracted and the monster inside him seemed satiated.

The next thing Chenle felt was soft fabric slipping over his bare shoulders. Confused, he looked up from the carnage at his feet to look into the red eyes of a man he had never seen before. “Hello Prince Chenle,” the man smiled gently, his voice soft and non-threatening like he was trying to coax a wild animal out of hiding. Carefully, he uncurled Chenle’s blood-smeared hand and held it in his, seemingly not caring about getting himself dirty. “Let’s get you somewhere more safe.” “But my family,” he argued weakly but let himself be pulled up on his feet. With a meaningful look, the man took a glance around the room and with static filling his own mind, Chenle followed his example. He couldn’t begin to count the number of twisted corpses in the room, the Queen at the center of it all, her dress dyed red from all the blood. “Take me away,” the Prince asked, his voice cracking when he recognized the faces twisted with fear and horror, their unseeing eyes looking right at him.

With a squeeze of his hand, the man with the red eyes pulled the Prince away from the bloodbath, tucking him against his side when he felt him tremble. “It’s over now,” he reassured Chenle as he led him out of the castle where a dark carriage with heavy curtains in front of the windows and door awaited them. The carriage driver didn’t even bat an eye at the state Chenle was in and simply opened the door with a bow of his head for the two men.

Climbing in, Chenle wasn’t sure where he was supposed to sit. Opposite of the man or next to him? “Sit,” the man quirked one of his eyebrows at him, patting the blood-red cushion next to him. With a huff, Chenle let himself be swallowed by the seat, tightly wrapping himself in the man’s jacket.

With a snap of the whip, the carriage started moving and the castle got smaller and smaller. When it was nothing more than a shadow in the distance, Chenle focused on the man next to him instead. He was only wearing a thin blouse, expensive fabric and tailored specifically to fit his build, Chenle could tell. Tapered to show off his broad shoulders and his slim waist and with polished cufflinks at the sleeves. His pants were a simple, dark color and his shoes only had minimal blood splatters on the leather. The most striking thing about the man - who Chenle now was sure was of noble blood - had to be his bright red eyes though, telling on his true nature: a vampire like himself. His face was all angles and strong lines, his jawline prominent and his nose high. He briefly wondered if the beauty mark beneath his eyes was painted on. He’d seen his sisters do it.

His sisters… Chenle couldn’t remember if their faces had been among the corpses in the sunroom. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened after his mother had stabbed him until the stranger’s voice had broken him out of his stupor.

“What… What happened to me?” Chenle asked with a small voice, pulling the stranger’s jacket tighter around his frame, as if it could shield him from the harsh truth. “Fledglings have a very special bond to their sire. Especially right after their rebirth,” the man explained with a calm voice, his bright red eyes focused on the landscape passing by. “Sire?” “The man who created you,” he clarified, “And your mother had him executed, severing that bond. Losing their sire is traumatic, even for older vampires, so it’s a miracle I found you in such good shape.” That comment had Chenle snort bitterly. “I killed my entire family.” “You could have destroyed yourself,” the man said with an almost fond look in his eyes, “You’re very strong for enduring that kind of pain.” “Don’t feel like it,” the fledgling mumbled, scratching at the drying flakes of blood on his skin. “Believe me, I’ve seen more than one fledgling succumb to madness in my days.”

“And how old are you exactly?” That question made the man grin and shake his head. “Isn’t that a funny thing to ask? My body is not much older than yours.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “You’re a curious one.” “At least tell me your name if you’re going to take care of me.” “Jeno,” the man spoke, “You can call me Jeno.” “Just Jeno?” “Family names don’t mean a thing when you’ve been alive for decades.” “Or dead.” “Or dead,” Jeno chuckled, shaking his head.

“Does- Does the..?” “Does the carriage driver know? Yes. Everyone does in my home.” “Home? Is that where we’re going?” “It can become your home if you wish to,” the older vampire smiled, “Even if it must not be much for a prince like you.” “I’m no prince any longer. I’m just Chenle.” “Then we can be just Jeno and just Chenle,” Jeno smiled, gently ruffling Chenle’s blood-sticky hair.

“Thank you,” the fledgling whispered so quietly, he could barely hear his own words but Jeno must have heard him anyway because he just wordlessly intertwined their fingers again to squeeze Chenle’s hand. “You’ll be okay,” he promised, “I’ll teach you about your new life and provide you with whatever you need.” “A bath would be nice.” “I’ll let my servants draw you a bath,” Jeno chuckled fondly, the warm sound making Chenle smile as well. “I’m tired but not sleepy…” “You’ve been through a lot, little one,” Jeno spoke softly, adjusting in his seat so Chenle could rest against his shoulder more comfortably, “Rest while your mind will let you. We still have quite the journey ahead of us.” “Thank you,” Chenle mumbled again, the tension immediately leaving his body as he rested against Jeno.

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