90's LOVE | renhyuck ✔

.01

With the noise-muffling static from the TV, Renjun only noticed the window being shoved open once it had collided with the wall. The sound overpowered the white noise from the black-grey dancing lines on the screen.

As though possessed, his pencil scratched against the math question, causing forthcoming irreparable damage to his relationship with the librarian. His hand curled around the pencil's body, feeling the imprint of the brand against his palm before Renjun darted accusatory eyes to the tall, slipper-footed figure that'd just entered his house. "What do you want, Chenle?"

Chenle wore a Santa-like nightcap that comically matched the blue dolphin slippers. A faint blush painted his cheeks from the strenuous acrobatics of climbing down into Renjun's living room. In moments like this, it was easy to forget his cousin quickly approached adulthood, too.

Still affected, Chenle panted, "Heard your parents leaving. Need to check MTV. It's a life-or-death situation." Without waiting for permission, Chenle reached between Renjun's library-borrowed Chem & Bio books to fish the remote control, frantically pressing buttons as though it really were an urgent matter.

Renjun bit the end of his pen, focus long gone. He wouldn't be able to solve another equation before Chenle left. "Don't you have your own?"

Glazed-eyed, Chenle didn't seem to have heard him. Only a headshake revealed Chenle could multitask when he wanted to. "Grounded. Dad did something to the wires so I can't turn it on. Fucking sick shit."

"Are you allowed to watch it here, then?" Renjun already knew the answer, but didn't care. It was not like he had much else to do: as though under a Pavlovian effect, the books, once neatly arranged in such an order only Renjun could understand, grew more and more scattered around the coffee table the longer Chenle stayed.

"Who cares," Chenle said. "Maybe they told your parents to ignore my withdrawal sickness. They aren't here, are they? Thank God Grandma died, or I'd lose the semifinals."

Renjun himself hadn't been all much close to Grandma, and, on top of that, thought she'd lived way beyond her expiration date with an impressive 96 years of age, aided by a sedentary life and sheltered pampering. The image he had of her certainly wouldn't change for the typical butt-licking brought by death. In his mind's eye, Grandma was still grumpy, still crushing his foot with the cane, and Renjun was satisfied the excuse of school and work prevented him from being dragged along to the funeral. Chenle's excuse, on the other hand, was just not caring.

However, as the oldest in the room, and the currently responsible figure in the house, it was his duty to tug at Chenle's already-tight-as-it-was leash. "You shouldn't talk like that."

On the screen, instead of static, played the colourful stage of Chenle's new celebrity obsession, Triple-J, where they twirled and body-locked to a fast-paced beat, a live performance not unlike any other. "What happened to Mark Lee? Washed out already?" Usually, Chenle would be religiously watching Mark Lee's character stroll around the set of a bland sitcom. It wasn't possible that Chenle had lost interest this quickly: he'd just had an overpriced Mark In Your Heart poster shipped all the way there, and faced terrible consequences for ordering without parental consent.

Chenle meh-ed. "Killed himself," he said, so dismissively one would guess he'd been making small talk. He stared mindlessly at the dancing screen. Mainstream pop muffled its way into Renjun's ears.

"Why? How?"

"Drugs, I think? Mom sent me to my room before I could catch the details. Only Teen Steam will cover it for me." He shifted his eyes away from the TV screen, but only to roll them at Renjun. "I hate that you don't keep up with celebrities. You'd make my life so much easier."

If Chenle would only take a single meaningful glance at the coffee table, messy with books and stray pages, he'd be able to tell why Renjun didn't indulge in leisure once he came home from an unfulfilling part-time job. "I can barely give in to my own hobbies, why would I give in to yours?" Renjun said, and watched, distasteful, as Chenle fiddled with the remote to turn the volume unbelievably high.

The Chem book lay open, and Renjun gritted his teeth. After a moment, Chenle slapped his shoulder to drag his attention back to the blaring TV.

A piece of breaking news interrupted the program in the form of a red stripe of running text at the bottom. It read, LATE BELOVED CHILDHOOD STAR YERI KIM LEAVES A NOTE BEFORE SUICIDE — "I'LL FINALLY FIND PEACE IN DEATH," THE NOTE SAYS.

Renjun shook his head. "Wonder why your parents don't let you watch this stuff," he said, which only made Chenle turn the volume higher.

In retaliation, Renjun opened a random book as loudly as he could, slapping the heavy cover onto the table and sending papers flying off like wounded pigeons. And thanks to his practised regime of ritualistic noise-cancelling study sessions — mindfully building tolerance against his noisy surroundings —, Renjun managed to complete four questions, check the answers, and stress over two calculations. He couldn't afford to make that many mistakes. The exam loomed just around the corner.

Chenle still watched TV.

"It's the mid-90s, and perhaps the Dark Age of modern times!" The baritone voice of a reporter boomed. And for once, Renjun's ears perked up to listen to the news, just before Chenle switched channels. That's it, Renjun decided, hurling himself forward to snatch the remote from Chenle's greedy little hands and switch back.

Once the channel was successfully back, it'd already been replaced by the cheerful intro of a cheap family sitcom. Renjun slumped onto the front of the couch, defeated once again.

Chenle stayed until he dozed off and was jolted awake by something in the dream. His only farewell was a lazy wave of goodbye. Renjun studied past midnight. Not because he had a problem, but because he had a test tomorrow.