three is the perfect number || jaenoren (norenmin)

vingt-sept

"Hey, Jaem, what's your favourite number?" 

"Huh?" 

Jaemin looked up to see Jeno grinning at him from where he was leaning against the locker doors, eyes crinkled around the edges like he had a joke to tell. Jaemin pressed his lips together, wondering whether Sanha had pulled Jeno into some prank. 

"Why do you ask?" 

"No reason. What is it?" 

Jeno was being very fucking cryptic, right now. Monday morning was not the time to be fucking around in the hallways and confusing your friends, but here we were. Jaemin was already feeling iffy from the proceedings of the previous night. After he'd told Renjun to go and meet Jeno, he'd walked home in a daze, the feeling of Renjun's flushed skin beneath his fingers and against his lips ingrained in his brain. Kissing him was probably the only thing that had gotten Jaemin through the night.  

He'd gone home and taken a long bath, eyes closed, like he could cleanse himself of everything that had happened, like he could sink beneath the water and come back up completely free of worry. There had been no hurried, grieving texts or calls from either Renjun or Jeno. So he could only assume it had gone well. 

But here Jeno was, without having told Jaemin anything of the fruits of his efforts, unfairly using an eye smile to disarm and soften the boy. 

"Well, probably thirteen, since I was born on that day in August," surmised Jaemin suspiciously, closing his locker. 

Jeno nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well, mine's three. Wanna know why?" 

Jaemin was now very confused, but he played along. "Perhaps?"

"Because, one plus one plus one." 

Jaemin broke his facade, reduced to a laughing mess right there in the hallway. Jeno's earnest grin was killing him. "You're really fucking around now —" he broke off into more laughter. It was either giggles or tears of confusion. 

Jeno shook him slightly, though he was laughing as well — "It's true, though!" 

"Whatever you say, Jeno. Sure — three's a pretty neat number." 

=

Next, Renjun tapped him on the shoulder in music class, a pen tucked artfully behind his ear. "Hey — psst, Jaemin!"

Jaemin turned around embarrassingly quickly, the teacher far too laidback to even care about the fact they were talking. "Yeah? What's up?" Maybe you can tell me the verdict of Jeno's confession? Please?

"You play the piano, yes?"

"Right, but not well," jested Jaemin, foreseeing the poke he got in the shoulder. 

"Shut up, you were second in the whole class. Anyway, what's your favourite kind of chord on it?"

"Huh?"

"Your favourite kind of chord! You know," Renjun placed his hands on his copy like it was a grand piano, putting down a couple of fingers, elegantly tapping out a few notes and chords of absolutely nothing. "When you press the keys at the same time. What's your favourite kind?" 

Jaemin was lost again. But, going out on a limb... "Um, a triad?" 

Renjun snapped his fingers. "Correct! I love triads." 

Jaemin blinked. "It's just three notes stacked on top of one another." 

"I know!" 

Jaemin laughed so hard under breath, he got hiccups. What was with his crushes and this fucking number?