-ᴍᴀғɪᴀ/sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀᴜ-
sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢɪʀʟ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴡ.
ʜᴇ... ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ.
-in which Rin is an unwanted soulmate at the mercy of a cold gang leader-
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Chenle's door blasted open, attracting the boy's attention, only to see Jaemin glowering at him from the doorway. He sighed, putting down the gun he fiddled with in his fingers, sitting up from his bed to face the male.
Chenle had sweat drowning his skin, making him look like someone had thrown him into a sticky, unpleasant pool, and his fever had gone out of control. His muscles screamed with pain whenever he so much as twitched, and he couldn't keep down any food he consumed, but he convinced himself that it didn't matter.
"Zhong fucking Chenle!" Jaemin screeched from the doorway, and the boy sighed in agitation.
The loudness of Jaemin's words gave the already-lightheaded boy a migraine, and he massaged his temples, looking at the older from the corner of his eye.
"What?" He whined, and he felt like the world was spinning around him.
"You need to go fucking touch her is what!" Jaemin ordered, and Chenle rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine," Chenle insisted, and his head pounded horribly.
"I don't care how you are, she's not!" Jaemin retorted, taking a step towards him.
Chenle narrowed his eyes at him, trying to assess what he was getting at. Chenle's gaze raked over the boy, and he knew that Jaemin tended to get more irritable the longer he was away from Yeji, but he normally didn't snap like this, not that Chenle cared.
His head continued to pulsate with pain, and Chenle could've sworn that the room was moving, so he clutched his anguished head as his migraine got increasingly worse- partially Jaemin's doing.
"Can you talk quieter?" Chenle murmured, glaring at Jaemin as he felt his brain scramble.
Jaemin scoffed in disbelief, walking towards Chenle and flicking his forehead, making it ache miserably. On a normal day, Chenle might've fought back, but what could he do? He could barely move without crumpling and falling to the ground, how could he do anything?
"Do you not care that she's going to die?! Your soulmate?!" Jaemin seethed, and Chenle sighed, rubbing his head tenderly.
"No, no, I don't, Jaemin," Chenle grumbled, becoming annoyed with the conversation.
Jaemin's eyes narrowed at the younger, and rage burbled in his throat, yet his chest was tight and restricted.
"Then you're going to die," Jaemin articulated slowly, glaring into his eyes.
