The World Stopped Moving {MarkRen} | complete

dix-sept

It's midnight, halfway between a hazy Monday and a jam-packed Tuesday, and Renjun is sprawled on the sofa. The clocks ticked over to a new day, yet nothing feels new to Renjun. He doesn't move, barely even blinks, and just lets the minutes slip away. He knows the sun was still high in the sky when he collapsed there, and he knows various friends have been and gone, but that's about it. He didn't register the faces, didn't utter more than a vague hum in response to whatever they had to say. The television rolls but he doesn't know which movie it is; something with a strange mix of too many kisses and even more explosions.

Curling his toes, Renjun pulls a cushion to his chest and lets his eyes close. Static fills his head as a restless buzz fills the stage of his eyelids. Legs numb, his left ankle prickles from lack of use. Each breath is tight. He counts through them but his body still tenses, and he can't stand up nor rest.

The shuffle of footsteps makes him crack open an eyelid, and he forces a smile at the sight of Jisung in faded space pyjamas and with ruffled hair.

"Hey," he says. The only light in the room comes from the television, and when Renjun turns it off neither reaches for the light switch. In the dark, the creak of the sofa as Jisung sits is awkward.

"Hey," Jisung replies, just as quiet.

Renjun squints at the younger and replaces the cushion behind his back. Jisung breathes heavily, like his head is also full.

"You're normally dead to the world by now," Renjun starts with a truncated laugh. "Why are you up?"

"Thought you might want a hug," Jisung mumbles.

It takes the elder a moment to decipher the words, and when he does he exhales in surprise.

"A hug?"

"Yeah," Jisung says.

Renjun sits up straighter when the younger touches his arm, then laughs again and pulls Jisung into his side with a rush of determination. "Don't be shy."

"Okay," Jisung says.

"Thank you. I did need a hug."

Renjun hasn't had physical contact since Jeno comforted him, and that was the best part of a week ago. The days have passed in a blur that doesn't slow, doesn't give him a single moment to stop and breathe and process what he's doing. He doesn't know where his life is going. All he seems to do is walk. He walks to lectures, walks to the library, walks to a different lecture, then to art to draw the same concept five times, then eventually to the dorm where he watches a plate of food turn in the microwave only to leave it for the next day and walk to his room.

Without the puzzle piece that is Mark, life doesn't seem to flow. Nothing is lucid and everything is hazy. Renjun wants to cry but he can't. He just freezes.

"Did he give any indication of when he'd be back?" Jisung asks. It's an innocent question yet Renjun has to take a controlled breath to not be sarcastic in response.

"No," he says simply.

Mark texted to say he's off for treatment again. He said he'd be longer this time, that he made an emergency appointment and they're doing extra checks. He said Renjun shouldn't worry.

Renjun hasn't done anything except worry for the week he's been gone.

He told his friends that Mark went back to Canada for family reasons, and no one questioned the hitch in his voice nor the uncertain crumple of his eyebrows that would suggest there's more to it than that. Chenle interrogated him as they traipsed to the corner shop together. He let Chenle pay for his groceries, swallowing down the shame with glaring lies. The younger let it slide. The quiet walk home told Renjun that Chenle won't let it slide for much longer.