Life is but a Dream {ChenJi} | ongoing

twenty-six

Things don't improve between Chenle and Jisung. Tiptoeing around the house, Chenle eavesdrops trails from conversations his parents have with Jisung. Court, parents, moving to a new house.

It hurts. Chenle's heart hurts when the words leave Johnny's mouth, but he understands. Understanding doesn't make it any easier, because then he has to accept that Jisung may be better off somewhere else.

When he goes to Johnny's office in search of a stapler for a practice maths paper, he stops and quickly diverts to the kitchen when he sees Jaemin curled into Johnny's side on the small sofa there, trembling, cheeks red with tears. Jaemin doesn't want Jisung to leave. He must have overheard the same conversation. Or just be worrying, as usual. He snatches Jisung away after dinner to go watch TV with him and Chenle gets a bitter taste in his mouth when Jisung catches his eye. Something sparks, Chenle's fingers twitch, but the moment fades away and he grits his teeth at the sight of Jisung laughing so easily in Jaemin's company. As though Chenle were invisible. It visibly brightens Jaemin, too, so Chenle can only sigh and return to his room on his own.

If Jisung doesn't want to talk to him, then he won't talk to him either.

He can become invisible again. He knows what he needs to do; it's easy. Practiced. Second nature. The thing he's good at.

He sits at his desk and begins to trawl through his homework. At some point, describing maps and filling out French verb tables and highlighting Shakespearean quotes turns into a haze of colours behind his eyelids, white dots and intense anger dancing through his mind as he drifts off, forehead pressed to his English exercise book.

"Honey?" Chenle releases a tiny groan and lifts his head. He doesn't want to open his eyes but can smell Taeyong's warmth and lets Taeyong cup his chin and brush his hair with his fingers. "Honey, is everything alright?"

Chenle blinks open his eyes. The anger returns but fizzes to nothing, and he sniffs. Taeyong is blinking down at him, eyes wide. His pink hair has faded and looks nearly orange in the last of the sunlight.

"'M alright," Chenle mumbles. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his arms above his head. Taeyong pouts, arms folded.

"Is your homework difficult?"

Chenle shrugs. "I'm just tired. Can I leave it for today?" His voice sounds empty but if Taeyong notices, he doesn't mention it.

"Of course, baby, we would never force you to work. You sure you're alright, though?"

Chenle nods. "Can I go to bed?"

"Oh, you don't need to ask," Taeyong immediately deflates, softens, at the request. "Want some tea or anything to help you sleep?"

Chenle considers but declines. He pulls his knees to his chest while Taeyong pulls his softest pyjamas out of his drawer and leaves them folded neatly on the bed.

"I'll make sure your brothers don't cause chaos and wake you up. Sweet dreams, Chenle, baby."

Chenle doesn't sleep, not properly. He wants to rip his skin off to get rid of the aching restlessness buried deep in his bones. Jisung's reaction to whatever dream they shared seems out of his control but he blames himself, convinces himself it's because he's been eating too much. Eating less again will help him get the control back. Maybe Jisung will like him again.

He turns to face the wall, kicking the sheets off and pinching his fingers around his wrists. His head physically buzzes and he's thirsty yet unable to get up.

He hasn't felt like this for months. So broken, the pieces scattered, and curling up does nothing but avoid the problem. He wakes up with a fuzzy cloud over his head that provides at least the imitation of safety. He eats breakfast like a robot, requests a cereal bar instead of breadsticks in his packed lunch that Johnny immediately fulfils, and piles into the car with his brothers. He spends the short journey running through his timetable in his head. He triple-checks against the small printout in his blazer pocket. The ink is faded from the creases, one corner ripped and another barely hanging on, but he thumbs it again and refolds it once he's sure he has the right day.