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"Jeno, do you want any dinner?" The soft, kind and feminine voice of his mother enquired from outside his bedroom door. The ravenette stopped what he was doing, glancing over at the pristine white slab of wood dividing them.
"Yes, please," he responded, sitting at his neat and empty desk to do homework. His room was bland, to say the least. With only a monochrome theme, white curtains, white walls, a black floor, black duvet upon his bed and a white glass desk set, things were awfully 'organised'. There wasn't a single item out of place nor a spec of dirt on the ground.
There was a certain symmetry to the bedroom as well, though one would have to see it with their own eyes to understand.
He leaned over the side of his small table, reaching into the depths of his schoolbag and retrieving some textbooks, as well as a letter left on his desk that day.
Again, he thought, reopening the page and gazing happily at the script. The writing was just so perfect. Utterly flawless, as if done by a magic pen. Whoever could write like this, plan out a letter like this and so very carefully fold it this way, was someone deserving of Jeno's respect.
It was a soothing thing for the boy, really. He was aware that some student was pouring their heart out to him, handing him their love on a piece of paper. But boy, did they know how to do it right.
Jeno stood up, taking the new letter and wandering towards his wardrobe. There was a drawer underneath the double doors in which he stored these notes. His better conscience told him that getting rid of love letters or rejecting them without words was a horrible thing to do.
So he would wait. There would come a time, he was sure, when the author of these letters would come forth and proclaim their feelings to Jeno in hopes of a relationship. But until the day came, when he could kindly reject them, he would keep these notes as a reminder that someone out there could possibly adore him this much.
The ravenette slid the envelope into the sliding drawer, sitting it neatly on top of the stack that was very meticulously laid out.
Then, closing the white drawer, his eyes settled on the blank white painted wood of his wardrobe. Not a single mirror graced his room, too much of a hassle for his obsessive nature to handle. Jeno simply felt more comfortable not being able to see himself.
"The food is ready!" His mother called, causing him to flinch from surprise. The oversized sweater hanging over the top half of his slim figure complemented his frame, and so did his loose fitted jeans. This was a teenager who didn't particularly mind how he appeared, especially at home. As long as he couldn't see the problems, then they may as well have not existed.
His long legs took him down the staircase, his mind assuring that he took an even amount of steps and landed on each of the stairs evenly. Once in the kitchen, he kept his eye-line low, staring at the perfect and clean white square tiles.
"Jen, don't slump like that. It's bad posture," the older woman sighed, bringing a plate down to show him the details. It was an omelet, cut perfectly in half with the chips taking up an exact quarter as well as some sweet corn taking up the remaining quarter. It was done with care, and Jeno appreciated his mother's efforts to make him feel more at ease.
He gratefully accepted the plate, nervously looking up to view his only parent. She seemed worn out and tired from a long day at work, yet she would never admit defeat. Unfortunately, her hair was disheveled and makeup in need of restoring, so he shot his gaze back down to the perfectly aligned meal.
"Oh yeah, Donghyuck said he'd be coming over," she then hummed, pinching her son's cheek affectionately before letting him trail towards the table.
"But Mark isn't home right now."
"Mmm, he knows. Says it's you he wants to see."
Jeno sighed, knowing exactly what the boy wanted. Mark, his older brother, was away on a school camping trip for three days, and Donghyuck was his best friend in the year below.
Jeno's year.
The brunette would never engage with the quiet teen at school, yet conducted quite a questionable relationship with him behind the scenes.
"He'll be here in half an hour, so eat fast and get some homework done," the lady gushed, exiting the room in a hurry and presumably getting more house chores done.
Jeno leaned on his palm and dejectedly picked at the food. It took him longer to eat than any other person due to the fact he physically couldn't bring himself to disrupt the peaceful setting on his plate or bowl.
After twenty minutes or so, when he felt full and unable to force anymore down, the teen gently placed the utensils in the centre of the sink and quietly trailed upstairs to his room.
The sound of his mother's footsteps racing about brought him comfort, allowing him some sort of noise to break the silence surrounding the house. Jeno sat down to his desk once again and started the evening with English.
The ticking of the clock upon his wall was white noise to him now, drowned out by his focus and thoughts. In fact, the raven haired male barely noticed how much time had passed until an orange glow filtered in through his window.
The street lamps had been activated, capturing his attention momentarily before two arms snaked around his shoulders from behind, fluffy brown hair tickling his ear as a sultry voice whispered, "Hey, Jen."
That smell, that aura and that feeling left Jeno with only one conclusion as to who the arrival was.
