always ↬ leading me on || l.dh • h.rj • z.cl

·forty one·

(trigger warning: this chapter contains blood and allusions to self-harm.)

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"Chenle?" Jeno called out, confusion evident in his tone, "what's wrong?"

He was sitting alone on a swing in the park that Donghyuck and his friends had just happened to come across, gripping at the hard metal chains that held it up, eyes downcast and trained on the sticks and stones that littered the floor. His lips were pulled into a thin line, parting neither for breath or to reply as he turned his head ever so slightly to the side and pretended to not see them walking his way.

"Chenle?" Jaemin's voice came this time, worry fading into the edges of his words and making them softer than they should have sounded, "where's Renjun?"

The way his shoulders tensed at the mention of the ravenette's name should have been a sign in itself, if not the crimson that slowly started to trickle down his arms as his nails dug into the skin of his own palms. He didn't want to have this conversation, he needed to leave, yet he couldn't bring himself to do so.

And he was trying to tell them — closing his eyes and praying that they'd understand that he just didn't want to be around anyone anymore, praying that they'll see the blood on his hands and leave him be. Though he couldn't lift a muscle, this was his way of running and he needed them to see that.

But they didn't.

They came closer.

They didn't stop, they kept stalking towards him and he wanted to scream, wanted to tell them to get away from him, to tell them that this was all their fault. He wanted to blame them.

He couldn't.

In his head, there was only one person at fault and that was himself. It was always him, he had always ruined everything. He deserved it. He deserved the taunts and the jeers and the mocks and all the stupid things he had heard about himself for all of those years — after all, they were nothing but true.

When the sound of feet hitting the ground in uniformed tandem faded and he could see five different pairs of shoes in front of him, he let himself focus on the sting of his hands instead of the shrill panic in Jisung's voice as he spoke, "Oh my god, Chenle you're bleeding! Hyung- He's b-bleedi-"

"We need to get him out of here," Mark spoke, eyes flitting over the boy's form with an indistinguishable emotion flashing across his deep orbs. He was speaking in the faintest whisper, but in the dying wind and the silence of the world, it fell upon Chenle's ears clearly, the small, disappointed, 'Oh Lord, what have you done to yourself?'

‣‣

In the past, sitting opposite Donghyuck was never a problem to him - simply because that had never happened. Back then, Donghyuck didn't want to have anything to do with Chenle and if it weren't to make fun of him, you'd never have found him around the younger boy.

In present, however, Chenle was forced to look up and into the elder's worried eyes as he tried to talk to him, urging him to speak up about what caused him to do what he did as Jaemin sat beside him and solemnly wrapped up his hands.

The silence in the air was thick and the blonde couldn't swallow down the distaste that seemed to have made itself a home in his throat. Everyone kept prodding at him, asking him what was going on and lying to him, telling him that they wanted to help him.

If they wanted to help him, they should have just stayed out of his life.

He wanted to tell them that.

That if only they didn't bother him, he wouldn't have ended up like this, with a heart that had been broken one too many times to count and a wish to have not ever lived.

Renjun and he had fought.

After all the years they'd spent together and all the promises that they'd promised not to break — after selling out their hearts and holding each other hard, they had finally slipped.

And they cut through the air around them and let the ground cradle their broken bones because suddenly, they weren't there to hold one another and brace themselves for the impact. Suddenly, the perfect 'us' that they had crafted, split into a 'you' and an 'I'.

All because of Donghyuck.

No.

All because of himself.

He felt sick. Sick, when Donghyuck reached out to wipe away his falling tears. Sick, when he remembered how he'd kissed the very lips that were muttering words of comfort to him in this moment. Sick, when Renjun's crying face flashed in his mind. He felt sick and he realised that there was no cure for him — no cure for love.

Renjun had asked him why, he kept asking him why, with no breath and no pause, he repeated it desperately, continuously, as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. His head was in his hands, fingers at his eyes and though he didn't want Chenle to notice his tears, it was obvious in the way his body shook, in the constant sniffles and the sobs that racked his frame.

In truth, Chenle didn't know why himself.

Why did he kiss Donghyuck and recklessly decide to fly so close to the Sun?

He was still burning from the feeling, melting into his own skin, flowing endlessly out of each crack and crevice and every flaw in his being. He didn't like it. He didn't like the fire that was crawling inside of his veins and setting them alight.

He didn't know why. He didn't know so he couldn't answer, he thought Renjun would have understood that but Renjun pushed him away and left him all alone.

Chenle felt betrayed.

And maybe he should have asked him then — the reason behind why he was crying.