Chapter Text
“Hey,” Jeno looks over at the call, just to see Renjun frowning, holding something up in his hand. “It happened again. Add this one to your collection.”
Marginally and momentarily confused, Jeno’s eyebrows furrow. Only up until recognition floods his face, at which point he sighs and goes back to bending down and focusing on untying the ribbons from around his ankles.
“Same number?” he asks Renjun, despite knowing the answer very well. There’s only really one possible number it could be, after all.
Renjun hums, shouldering his own bag, and hauling Jeno’s up in his other hand to bring over. “Mhm.” He tosses Jeno’s bag onto the floor next to the owner, and stands in front of the crouched man. Renjun crosses his arms over his chest as he stares him down, a calculating look on his face. “Maybe you should just text him to get this over with.”
Jeno scoffs, finally shucking his final ballet slipper off. He stretches his feet, wiggles his toes, and semi dreads the ache which will settle in the arches of his feet later this evening.
“I’m not interested,” Jeno iterates for what is probably the hundredth time. “Like, at all.”
“I know,” Renjun frowns. Yet still, he’s looking at Jeno like he’s trying to discern something the other isn’t telling him. “But like. Maybe just to get him off your back?”
“Na Jaemin-ssi should be able to take a hint,” Jeno mutters, slipping his feet into his most beaten up pair of comfortable sneakers. “If he’s as smart as everyone else says he is…” Finally standing up on his two feet, Jeno and Renjun make their way out of the dance studio they had booked. “When does he even manage to put his number in my bag? I never see him around here.”
“The recreation centre is right next to the biology building, Jeno,” Renjun points out, like it was the most obvious thing. Maybe it should have been, since this is Jeno’s fifth year at this university. “And rumour has it that Jaemin has labs there on Tuesdays.”
“Since when did you keep up with rumours about Jaemin?” Jeno scrunches his nose, holding the door open while he lets Renjun exit the building before him. It’s already September, and the sky has already turned an early shade of dark blue. It seems like they’ve lost track of time in the studio for the nth time this week.
“It’s impossible to ignore rumours when they’re all you hear,” Renjun reasons. He even goes as far as to roll his eyes, adding an, “Especially when they’re about Na Jaemin.”
Internally, Jeno huffs. He supposes he can see where Renjun is coming from with that—the student body (and especially Jeno’s graduating class) is infamous for being knowledgeable on all things Na Jaemin. Jeno is sure that if the university offered a course on the man himself, all sections would be full.
It’s a ridiculous thought when put into words like that, but Jeno knows that it’s a true one. Jaemin had made a name for himself in their university as one of the prodigies in the medical science field. He’s a common name between students and professors alike, everyone seeming to share only positive things to say about him.
Part of Jeno thinks it’s admirable, to make an impact that large within not only the student body, but the professors at school too. The other part of Jeno thinks that no one is that perfect, and that there should always, always be something bad to say about someone—Jeno can go on for hours about Renjun’s poorer traits, for example. He’s sure Renjun can do the same for him too.
It seems though, however, that not a single person can name some of Na Jaemin’s poorer traits. Never has a professor let it slip that Jaemin had received a grade lower than a ninety-percent, and never has a student recounted an anecdote about Jaemin where he isn’t being the textbook definition of perfect.
Personally, that’s where Jeno finds the fault, and the fishy smell to come from—no one is perfect. There has to be something, and it’s not necessarily like Jeno thinks he deserves to know what it is when it’s clear that no one else does. It’s just that such a picture perfect, squeaky clean image warrants secrets, and other things along those lines.
It’s enough of a reason(s) for Jeno to be uninterested in Jaemin, and much less texting Jaemin his own number despite being on the receiving end of their most infamous student’s number for the past month.
Because yes— it’s been only a bit over one month since Jeno’s been receiving Jaemin’s number. Really, for just how popular and known Jaemin is, it’s pretty reckless for him to just be leaving his number around like that. What if the slip of paper had fallen out of Jeno’s bag, and into the hands of the wrong person?
Jeno supposes that the following series of hypothetical events would be deserved on Jaemin’s end, then. Serves his foolishness right…
Anyways. The point is that Jeno isn’t texting Jaemin.
“Whatever,” he concedes, falling into step next to Renjun as they begin the twenty minute walk back to their shared apartment. Their other roommate, Dejun, is probably already home. “Let’s talk about something else. What are you having for dinner?”
“I have leftover rice and curry in the fridge,” Renjun answers. Jeno has long gotten used to reducing the pace at which he walks in order to accommodate Renjun’s shorter legs, despite multiple complaints from his best friend where he says he can keep up with no problem (though, his heavy breathing usually says otherwise). It comes in handy in times like this where Jeno had put a bit too much energy into practice tonight, since he doesn’t even need to consciously adjust his pace. The arches of his feet are beginning to ache. “What about you?”
“Needing to finish the scallions in the fridge is good enough excuse to make ramyeon for dinner, right?” he asks in response to Renjun’s question. His father had always said not to answer a question with another question, but alas. He finds himself doing so a lot when he’s speaking to Renjun anyways.
“Depends on who you’re asking. Dejun would tell you off for it,” Renjun shrugs. “I, on the other hand, will support whatever decisions you make in life, regardless of what they are. Because I’m a phenomenal best friend.”
Jeno rolls his eyes at the answer he receives, but doesn’t bother with correcting Renjun, or speaking on the matter. There’s a reason why they’ve been friends for over a decade, as it were.
They’re approaching the end of campus when Jeno sees someone else walking in the same direction, from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t pay the person much mind at first, but when he registers that the person is wearing a white lab coat, and has a head of bleached hair, his steps falter.
“What?” Renjun inquires, noticing the way that Jeno seemed to have tripped over nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time Jeno was clumsy enough to trip over thin air, but it’s not something either of them can afford right now—their university’s ballet team is competing in a few weeks’ time. “Did you do something to your ankle during practice?” he asks, words half coated in worry.
“What? No, it’s not that—is that Na Jaemin?” Jeno blurts before he can think better of it. He’d bite his tongue and regret the question from spilling past his lips if he wasn’t used to it—he’s long since thrown inhibitions around Renjun out the window. The latter is used to his nonexistent brain to mouth filter, anyways.
“Na Jaemin?” Renjun looks around their general vicinity, until his eyes land on where Jeno is more than obviously staring. He elbows his friend, who yelps and then turns back to him with a glare on his face.
“What was that for?” Jeno grumbles, rubbing his ribs.
“Stop staring at him like a creep,” Renjun tells him bluntly. “You look like you’re trying to make him trip over a pebble, or something. He didn’t even do anything to you.”
“He’s been harassing me,” Jeno reasons. “I should tell him I don’t want his number.”
“Are you going to actually do it, though?” Renjun asks. Jeno knows he’s coming from an earnest and genuine place, and not just teasing him. Mainly because— “I just mean because like, you still have to memorize your order on the menu before we go to restaurants so that you don’t mess it up.”
“Everyone does that,” Jeno scowls, deflecting what Renjun said. Plus, everyone does that too. “Jisung does that.”
“Jisung is quiet and scared of people, just like you are. That’s why he does that,” Renjun deadpans. Trust him to never cut Jeno any slack. Or mercy. Or anything like that ever, really. “So, are you going to head over to Na Jaemin? Because he has a car, and it looks like he’s walking to it right now.”
“I have a car too,” Jeno scowls before he can help it. Again, it’s the poor brian to mouth filer at work here.
“This isn’t the time to have a pissing contest,” Renjun mutters, shoving Jeno gently in Jaemin’s general direction. Judging based on the route the latter is walking, it seems like he’s parked in a different lot than where Jeno had parked. “I’ll be waiting for you in the car.”
“Wait,” Jeno blanches, suddenly feeling a pile of stones settle into his stomach. Or maybe they’re pebbles. Akin to the ones he (perhaps) wished Jaemin would trip over. Anyways— “Are you really making me go talk to him?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted in the first place?” Well, what Jeno wanted was for Renjun to not use his own words against him. But honestly, he shouldn’t have put Renjun doing that past him in the first place, so maybe it’s his fault… “Or was it just another thought you didn’t mean to say out loud?”
Jeno would glare at Renjun if the latter was wrong, but Jeno truly does have a history of unintentionally voicing his thoughts out loud. Something about how speaking out loud helps him organize his thoughts better…
“I’m capable of speaking to people, y’know,” Jeno huffs, kicking stray rocks between the two of them. He’s acting petulant and he knows it, but Renjun doesn’t make him want to not act petulant, especially with the way he puts his hands on his hips and looks at him the same way his mother would when he was toddler and couldn’t listen to the rules for the life of him. “And do not look at me like that.”
“Like what? Like I can tell that you’re making excuses? Because I know you are,” his friend points out. Jeno doesn’t know why he still tries and pretends like Renjun doesn’t know everything about him. “Like I said—I’m a phenomenal best friend. So while I will support any decision you make, I’ll also encourage the one I see better fit.” Renjun looks him up and down, and finally drops his hands from his hips. He nudges his head in the direction Jaemin had been walking to, the man himself out of sight since they’d been stalling here for a while. “Tell him to leave you alone if you don’t want his number, Jeno. And you’re right about what you said earlier too, by the way—he should be able to take a hint.”
Knowing that he has Renjun’s support is comforting, but the thing about the two of them is that Jeno always knows that he’ll have Renjun’s support. If Dejun was here, he’d exasperatedly give Jeno all the nudges, pushes, and encouraging words he’d need to go up to Jaemin and put his foot down. And if Jisung was here, he’d tell Jeno to hold his breath and just confront Jaemin too, despite the fact that nothing in a million years would be able to convince Jisung to do the same, within his own context.
But, Jeno’s been trying not to do that, as it were. That entails the mini pep talks he gives himself before engaging in normal, everyday activities, like going up to someone and having a conversation. And while what he wants to have with Jaemin isn’t necessarily a conversation, it’s still something he should do.
So that he has peace of mind. And so that Jaemin leaves him alone.
He isn’t interested, after all.
“Tell me to do it and I’ll do it,” Jeno blurts out in one breath after turning and tossing the idea around in his head for a while. Realistically, he really should. It’s been annoying finding Jaemin’s number in his dance bag, and it’s even more annoying every time he remembers that he’d be the one responsible for Jaemin’s number falling into the wrong hands. Not that he should even be responsible for something like that in the first place, but alas, Jaemin’s reckless decision doesn’t seem to consider that.
Renjun, understanding that he’ll always need that extra little push, puts both his hands on Jeno’s shoulders and pats them aggressively, like his old high school basketball coach would do whenever he was giving the team a pep talk.
“You’re gonna go up to Na Jaemin,” Renjun tells him sternly, nodding his head. Jeno mirrors the action, nodding his head. “And you’re gonna tell him to leave you alone.” Again, they both nod, one after the other. Jeno feels more than sees Renjun fish through the pocket in his hoodie, and he hears more than sees his friend take his car keys out. “And then you’re gonna come back to the car, we’re gonna go home, you’re gonna make the saltiest and tastiest ramyeon ever.”
“Yeah,” Jeno agrees, stomach prematurely rumbling simply at the mention of his dinner. “I’m gonna go talk to him now,” he adds, nodding for a final time before turning around on his heel, and marching off towards where he’s pretty sure Jaemin parked his car. It’s not too hard to find since the parking lot is fairly empty during this time of day, and because there’s only a handful of cars which actually have their engine running.
Jeno is running on pure adrenaline and incentive as he makes his way over to Jaemin’s car. The only reason he’s even making such a rushed decision is because he doesn’t know when’s the next time he’ll be able to catch Jaemin, given that he’s busy most of the time. And the only reason he knows which car is Jaemin’s is because the owner is standing outside of the open driver’s side door, tapping away at his phone.
Jeno feels the familiar pile of stones make itself known again in the pit of his stomach, the heavy feeling weighing him down enough to slow the pace of his footsteps. His throat feels dry, his tongue even drier, and he finds himself needing to roll it around in his mouth a couple times so that he’s ready to form words once he’s approached Jaemin.
He doesn’t like talking to strangers, and he never has. It doesn’t matter if Jaemin is a student just like him, or if he’s the same age as him, or if he’s just another random person Jeno will be meeting in his life. Jaemin feels like a lot more than that because of his status within the student body, and for reasons Jeno is unable to name, he feels like he’s about to confront the president, or something.
Which is a ridiculous thought, honestly. Jeno has never thought of Jaemin as all that, and he still doesn’t, even as he’s making his way towards him, with only a couple metres of distance left between them.
His palms are sweating, and he runs his fingers through his hair more times than necessary just so that he has something to do with them. And to stop himself from chewing his nails, a habit which earns him a smack to the arm every time Renjun catches him doing it.
Renjun can’t see if he bites his nails right now, but the idea still stands. He’d also rather than Jaemin not see him walk up to him with his fingers in his mouth, too.
With the more and more the distance between Jeno and Jaemin lessens, the more the latter feels the compelling urge to turn right around and just deal with receiving Jaemin’s number in his dance bag every week, and not ever doing something about it.
The rational part of his brain tells him to just get it over with since he’s already come so far, but the irrational, and arguably larger, part of his brain tells him that confronting someone like this is scary, and not worth it. Especially when he’s confronting someone like Na Jaemin.
The irrational part of his brain manages to win his internal dialogue, as it often does these days, but he’s not given much of a choice to turn around and bolt back to his car, and pretend like he didn’t even mean to walk in this direction. The same second he decides that he can’t talk to Jaemin, Jeno sees the latter look up from his phone and make direct eye contact with him.
Jeno only realizes then how the distance between them had lessened so much, that he’s but a couple metres away from standing right in front of Jaemin. He freezes in his steps, not prepared at all to be acknowledged by the other, before his brain jumpstarts again and convinces him to put one foot in front of the other and walk, instead of standing still like a statue and idiot.
“Hello,” Jeno starts stonily, not entirely meaning for his words to come out that way. He meant to go for an even, emotionless approach, but what’s done is done. Internally, he winces, but externally, he manages to keep a calm (what’s probably equally as stony, if he’s being honest) face, in spite of the fact that Jaemin raises his eyebrow minutely at his choice of greeting tone.
Or maybe Jaemin doesn’t care at all about his greeting tone, and Jeno is just thinking too much again. It’s a habit, after all.
“Hi,” Jaemin says back, his smile just as radiant and charming as everyone always says it is. Even if Jeno thinks the sun is more radiant, and acknowledges that Jaemin’s charm doesn’t work on him, he’s not blind. And he can make connections too. “What’s up?”
Jeno squints his eyes just a little bit. It might not even be noticeable to Jaemin, but his brain sends him big, glaring signs telling him that he’s being awfully rude with his body language, seeing as this is his first time talking to Jaemin, so he forces his eyes to go back to their normal, resting state.
He hopes that whole ordeal wasn’t too obvious.
“Um,” Jeno starts less than eloquently. He realizes only now that he hadn’t prepared what he was going to say to Jaemin, too busy with psyching himself out of this conversation in the first place, on his way here. He can hear his pulse quicken, and he feels his hands become clammy since he doesn’t have his words memorized yet. Jeno hates coming up with words to say on the spot—he hates being put on the spot. But Jaemin is looking at him expectantly, and so Jeno feels compelled to just spurt out what’s on the tip of his tongue so as to not keep him waiting. “Can you—can you stop giving me your phone number?”
Jeno is more proud of how he didn’t end up stuttering more than he’s proud of what he ended up saying. If he had the time to actually create and memorize a script, this isn’t what he’d be saying.
He gets to watch in real time as the radiant smile on Jaemin’s face dims a little, and how his eyebrows come together in the middle of his forehead in a tiny scrunch. Somehow, the actions make Jaemin’s eyes look bigger. Jeno also takes this moment to notice that his eyes are a deep, dark chocolate brown.
“Sorry?” Jaemin asks, confusion marring his face and his words. Jeno finds himself to be irrationally upset by Jaemin’s confusion—the last thing he wants to do is draw this conversation out and repeat himself. He didn’t even want to have this conversation in the first place. He’s going to kill Renjun for making him think he could do this like a normal person.
“Your phone number,” Jeno repeats. He even fishes the scrap of paper with said number written on it from out of his bag, showing it to Jaemin as proof. “Stop putting it in my dance bag, please. I’m not interested.”
He sounds more meek and quiet than he’d like, to his ears, but he can’t help the way his voice dwindles down with insecurity as he sees the scrutinizing look on Jaemin’s face, the furrow in his eyebrows now turning into a frown. The look on Jaemin’s face makes it seem like he’s never seen the paper in Jeno’s hand a day in his life, and to make matters all the worse, Jaemin opens his mouth just to say,
“That’s not my handwriting.”
Jeno feels embarrassment and frustration begin to bubble beneath the surface of his skin. There’s no one watching them, and there’s no one else listening to this conversation. The parking lot is pretty empty as it is, but Jeno still feels the urge to pick at the straps at his bag so that he doesn’t end up biting his nails due to his nerves.
“Is it your number?” he finds himself asking, just to be on the safe side. He internally kicks himself for not considering the possibility that this isn’t even Jaemin’s number, and that someone had been cruel enough to prank him in this way. Probably someone who wanted Jeno to go up to Jaemin like this and confront him, just to be humiliated, embarrassed, and ashamed when he’s told by the man himself that this isn’t Jaemin’s number in the first place. But then that begs the question of who would do such a thing. Jeno doesn’t even have that big of a circle as it is, and he tends to fail at making acquaintances because of how demure his personality is. And, like Renjun said, he may or may not be a tiny bit scared of people, the same way Jisung is. And—
Before Jeno’s thoughts can cause him to spiral even further, Jaemin answers his question.
“It is,” he mutters, frown ever so present between his eyebrows. He snaps his eyes back to Jeno, and the latter thinks he’s imagining it when he sees a flicker of irritation pass through his eyes. But he knows he wasn’t when he hears Jaemin’s question, “Who gave this to you? How did you get it?”
His whole body feels a bit more hot now, under Jaemin’s gaze which is slowly turning into a glare, and from being put on the spot. He has to curl his toes in his sneakers so that he isn’t compelled by the urge to run his fingers through his hair again, or pick his cuticles.
“They’ve been showing up in my d-dance bag the past few weeks,” he explains, biting his tongue for letting himself stutter in front of Jaemin. He can’t help the fact that he feels sweaty, prickly with an uncomfortable feeling the more Jaemin looks at him like he can see right through him. Jeno doesn’t like being the center of attention, much less when there are eyes as sharp as Na Jaemin’s eyes on him. “I wanted to tell you that I’m not interested.” At the very least, he didn’t stutter then.
Jaemin sighs under his breath, and there’s a chance that his exasperation isn’t directed at Jeno, but the latter’s brain still tells him that it is. Great, Jeno has been speaking to Na Jaemin for maybe all of three minutes, but he’s still managed to leave a bad impression. If one of the students who were obsessed with Jaemin were to witness this interaction, Jeno’s sure he’d be burnt at the metaphorical university stake for getting on Jaemin’s nerves.
“Well, I’m not all too interested either, considering how I’m not even the one who put those in your bag,” Jaemin says, a bit harsher than Jeno expected it to be. It’s almost like Jaemin sounds… Offended? But what’s the point of being offended at the prospect of a nobody like Jeno being uninterested? Jaemin does what Jeno had been fighting off the itch to do this whole time, and runs his fingers through his hair. The end result looks messy and untamed, but Jeno doesn’t point that out. “What’s your name, by the way? I don’t think I know you.”
Finally, a question Jeno can answer without needing to run the words over in his head a million times to make sure he doesn’t stutter, gets it right, and doesn’t make a fool out of himself. “Lee Jeno.”
The last thing Jeno expects is for Jaemin’s face to light up minutely with recognition once he hears his name. Jeno’s name isn’t a name like Jaemin’s name—as in, he doesn’t ever expect someone to know him, or be familiar with him when he introduces himself.
But Jaemin seems to look like he does know him, like he’s heard Jeno’s name float around. Which does nothing to make him feel any less nervous and uncomfortable, by the way, because he doesn’t even think he wants to know what talk has been going around about him to the point where Jaemin has heard and recognizes his name. The once again bigger and irrational part of Jeno’s brain tells him that there are rumours surrounding him and his name going around, while the rational part of his brain tells him that his name is all over the university’s dance department’s social medias, and that his name is on posters promoting events and such.
Again, Jeno doesn’t get to speculate or spiral much about the origins of Jaemin hearing his name, since the latter explains himself without any prompting.
“You’re a ballerina,” is the first thing Jaemin says. Jeno tightens his hold on the strap of his dance bag, nodding once just to confirm things for Jaemin. “And you—is Renjun your friend? Huang Renjun?”
Again, despite being confused about how on Earth Jaemin knows Renjun’s name, he once again nods his head in confirmation. Renjun said that he only knows Jaemin by and through word of mouth, so he doesn’t think they know each on an acquainted, or personal level. Despite knowing this, Jeno wonders if Renjun had simply been keeping this a secret from him. Despite the fact that there have been no secrets between Renjun and Jeno for the past decade.
Jeno is ripped out of his thoughts when he hears Jaemin mumble a couple curses under his breath. The crase words are such a contrast to the rumours Jeno always hears about Jaemin’s gentle, sweet, and soft way of talking to people that his eyes widen just a tiny bit, taken aback by this side of Jaemin. Granted, he thinks he shouldn’t be taken aback in the first place, since he doesn’t know Jaemin at all. And he likes to honour the virtue of not having expectations for strangers, but it seems like he’s failed a bit with that in regards to Jaemin.
“I know who’s been dropping those in your dance bag,” Jaemin sighs, staring at Jeno’s bag with something akin to disdain in his eyes. It makes Jeno want to hold his bag to his chest and cradle it to keep it safe. What did his bag do to offend Jaemin? “You can just ignore it. Donghyuck’s a fucking idiot anyways,” he spits his last sentence quietly, but still loud enough that Jeno could catch it.
He finds himself blurting out, “Who’s Donghyuck?” before he can help it. Once again, his brain to mouth filter seems to be of no use, and he finds himself in another unwanted and unwarranted situation which simply prolongs his conversation with Jaemin. Jeno doesn’t even want to know who Donghyuck is, he had simply just voiced out the first thought to have popped into his head.
Jaemin narrows his eyes at him after he hears the question spill from Jeno’s lips, and it makes the latter want to shrink away, being on the receiving end of such a scrutinizing look once again.
“Why? I thought you weren’t interested?” Jaemin scoffs, once again taking Jeno aback. He finds himself blinking blankly a couple times before Jaemin’s words truly register. And then, his tongue is moving faster than his brain, and he finds himself speaking before he can think it over.
Another reason Jeno doesn’t like being put on the spot is because he finds himself blurting out the first things to come to mind whenever he gets worked up. That exact reason is how he finds himself in this situation, saying stupid things like, “I asked about Donghyuck. The person I’m not interested in is you.”
When Jeno doesn’t have time to think things over, he doesn’t have time to filter his blunt thoughts from thoughts he can actually say out loud. The proof is in what he just said, because he doesn’t think that had he had the time to actually think it over, he’d say such a thing.
And it clearly wasn’t the right thing to say either, since Jaemin’s eyebrows shoot up, skyrocket, even. Like he can’t believe he just heard Jeno say that, and like he can’t understand why Jeno said that.
“Do you even—do you even know how many people are interested in me?” Jaemin asks, seeming to engage more in this conversation as he leans against the still open car door, leaning his crossed arms on the top edge, resting his chin atop his forearms right after. He’s looking at Jeno like he’s trying to read him, and the intense, calculating look makes Jeno want to cover himself up. “And you don’t even know me! How can you say you’re not interested in me?”
While Jeno has always had a hard time reading people’s emotions, tone, and body language, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jaemin is offended by what he said. It’s clear in the way he cocks an eyebrow up as he waits for Jeno’s response, and in the way the tips of his ears are colouring themselves the lightest shade of red.
One of the first things Jeno learns about Jaemin is that he gets passionate when his ego is involved.
“… Are you seriously asking me that? I’m not interested because I don’t know you.”
The second thing Jeno learns about Jaemin is that he has a lot of ego. “So you won’t even try to get to know me before you trash my number?”
Spluttering around his words, Jeno tries to find something to say. He ends up falling short, and it seems like he takes too long to formulate his thoughts, because Jaemin is pushing himself off his car door and standing up straight within the next few seconds.
He looks far more determined than he looked a mere handful of seconds ago as he says, “You know what? Text me.”
“T-Text you?” Jeno’s fingers are curling so strongly around the strap of his dance bag that he has no doubt that his knuckles are white. The fingers on his other hand start picking at his cuticles, the skin around his nail bed already stiff and rough with callouses from his addicting habit. “Why w-would I text you?” Again, Jeno wants to slap himself for stuttering. But he can’t help the way his tongue trips over itself, not with the way Jaemin is looking at him. His skin hasn’t stopped prickling with uncomfortable heat since this conversation has started.
“So you can get to know me,” Jaemin answers like it’s obvious. Maybe it would be, if Jeno wanted to get to know Jaemin. But if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t want anything to do with Jaemin at all. “And only after you get to know me is when you can decide if you’re uninterested or not.”
“Is any of that really necessary?” Jeno scrambles to ask when he notices that Jaemin looks like he’s ready to step into his car and drive away. As much as Jeno would like to finish this conversation, he doesn't want to leave this conversation without any conclusions. He knows he’ll be up all night pondering on different outcomes and what ifs if they don’t come to a conclusion right now. “I d-don’t think that—”
“It’s a waste for you to throw away my number,” Jaemin states bluntly. Jeno almost can’t believe his ears. Not once in all the rumours he’s heard circulate about Jaemin has he heard anything about his gargantuan ego, or the amount of stubbornness in his body. “I don’t mean to brag—” Jeno has a feeling that Jaemin does mean to brag. “—but I’m a bit of a catch.” Jaemin even has the audacity to shrug after speaking his words, as if what he said was a universally acknowledged fact. “And I don’t like when people have the wrong impression of me.”
“I don’t have any impression of you—” Jeno counters, which is only a bit of a lie. It wasn’t even half an hour ago that he was thinking about how there must be something fishy and faulty beneath all of the fluff and sunshine people use to speak about Jaemin.
“Enough of some impression to have already decided that you’re not interested without even getting to know me,” Jaemin cuts off. He steps into his car, sits down in the driver’s seat, and for a fleeting moment Jeno thinks that they’re going to part ways without coming for a mutual agreement. Until, that is, Jaemin asks, “Do you have a partner? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”
Jeno feels his neck warm up all the way to his cheeks and ears at the question. It’s a bit of a frequent question he bears at this age, but that doesn’t mean it’s one he’s gotten better at answering.
He’s unable to look Jaemin in the eyes anymore, when he does answer, though he has a feeling that he hasn’t been looking Jaemin in the eyes much at all throughout their entire interaction. The eyes are another thing Jeno struggles with—even to this day he can’t hold eye contact with Renjun throughout an entire conversation.
“No, b-but what does that—”
“Perfect! So you’ll text me, won’t you, Jeno-ssi?”
The way Jaemin asks his question makes it seem like Jeno has no reason to say no, despite the fact that he can list off a plethora of reasons why he wants to say no.
The biggest item on the list being written in uppercase, bold, underlined, italicized letters: I DON’T WANT TO GET TO KNOW YOU.
Truly, it’s as simple as that. Jeno doesn’t like talking to strangers, and that’s why the majority of people he meets in his life remain as just that: strangers. It’s near impossible for him to ever get to the talking stage with someone, which is why he only met Dejun and Jisung through Renjun. As if Jeno is even capable of making friends on his own… That’s a silly and forlorn thought in of itself.
All of that just to say that Jaemin is a stranger.
… A stranger who’s already driving out of his parking spot, leaving with a final reminder for Jeno to text him.
They haven’t come to a mutual agreement, and so Jeno knows that he’s going to be up all night staring at his ceiling, replaying this conversation in his head, and weighing his options on what to do next.
He may also be cursing Renjun’s name too. Why did he tell him to do this, again? Jeno didn’t even manage to put his foot down and assert his boundaries—Jaemin bad driven off after having the last word, leaving Jeno with muddled thoughts and new callouses beginning to form along his cuticles.
Jeno closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath to at least try to regain all the energy he’d lost from his rather… Interesting conversation with Jaemin.
He needs the energy to drive him so that he can contemplate his entire existence and his next course of action on how to reiterate to Jaemin that he’s not interested over a bowl of the saltiest, tastiest ramyeon ever, as it were.