heaven, hell, and other cruel dichotomies - jungwooed (2024)

Chapter 1: tryouts

Chapter Text

February 11th, 1984 -- 98 days till state championships

Renjun didn’t usually frequent house parties, and now he was being reminded why.

The air smelled of sweat and smoke. It filled Renjun’s head and made his brain feel like a useless lump of cotton between his ears. His skin thrummed with the heat of so many bodies, and his chest pounded hollowly to the sound of the music.

He felt like he had been swallowed up like Jonah, into the warm belly of a moaning blue whale. He could almost feel himself dissolving in it all. The gentle tingle of melting into nonexistence.

He swayed a few times, a cup of rum and co*ke in hand. Yangyang was notorious for throwing amazing parties, but Renjun didn’t really know what a good party looked like. He supposed as long as there were free drinks it couldn’t be that bad.

He wished he was in his bed, reading one of his sci-fi novels in the dim lamplight, crickets serenading him outside his window.

The other boys in the theatre club had made him come. He was just a stagehand: the type to do all the assorted tasks no one else wanted to worry about. It was a lame job, but he did it well enough. They were celebrating the end of their successful winter production of Fiddler on the Roof. More people had come to opening night than ever before. The first three rows were almost filled up. That was enough for them to be able to justify throwing a schoolwide rager.

Being in the theatre club was like social suicide, but no one could say they were boring.

All around him girls had their arms around the necks of boys. Pretty manicured nails scraping against their napes. He cringed and took another swig. He came here with the rest of the theatre club, but they had long disappeared to God-knows-where. He allowed himself to be dragged down into the depths, if only to drown his anxieties in alcohol and mind-numbing synthpop.

“Snap out of it, dipstick!” A voice yelled by his ear. Renjun winced. Guanheng did always have trouble controlling the volume of his voice. “You’re acting like a f*cking stoner right now, dude.” It also did not come with a filter.

“Leave me alone.” Renjun took another sip from the plastic cup held tightly in his grip. Rum and co*ke was the only drink that didn’t make him want to gag. “Go find Yangyang if you’re craving some entertainment.” Renjun walked past him towards the kitchen. The living room was starting to get a bit suffocating. His ears were throbbing and his nose tickled with the smell of sugary perfume.

“And leave you down here by yourself? I’m not that bad of a friend, my dear Junnie.”

Just as Renjun was about to bite back something sarcastic and rude and drunken, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Renjun, can we talk?”

Renjun groaned and downed the remainder of his drink. “I don’t wanna talk to you,” he managed to slur out as he reached for a beer bottle laying abandoned on the counter. When he tried to take a swig he found that it was empty, and let it drop to the floor with a tinny clang.

“Renjun, you should go home.”

“Stop pretending like you care about me, Mark,” Renjun said scathingly, and the warmth on his shoulder disappeared.

“You’re acting like a child, pull yourself together,” Mark said lowly in his ear.

“Where’s Donghyuck?” Renjun asked, pushing Mark aside. “I want Donghyuck.”

“He’s passed out on the stairs.”

Renjun groaned and held his face in his hands. There goes his ride. He peeked at Mark through his fingers. He was wearing his Levi jeans, the ones ripped at the knees and patched. They’re too baggy on his skinny frame and he looks like such a dumb punk. His shoelace was untied and dirty. His hair shaggy and jet black. He was grimy; he probably smelled bad. But Renjun couldn’t help but think he radiated an effortless kind of cool. His face was handsome and chiseled and almost rugged. Renjun felt his heart beat out of time with his breath. Mark’s hands were warm and safe, they held him when he needed them. And really, Mark is still the same person he always was, but it was too painful to admit it.

“f*ck off , Mark,” he groaned into his palms.

“You really want me to leave?” He asked. Renjun could tell he was giving him a chance. One last chance to say sorry, to heal whatever wounds that were left open, but Renjun was stubborn and suffering from drunken impulsiveness.

“I don’t need your help,” Renjun shoved Mark out of the way and made a beeline for the door. “Get it through your thick skull, Lee!”

“Renjun, wait!” Mark yelled as he tried to muscle through clusters of partygoers. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Renjun bit out before slamming the door behind him. He prayed that Mark wouldn’t follow him as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stumbled along the sidewalk.

He breathed in deeply and watched a puff of steam fall from his lips as he exhaled. It was February, and while the skies had cleared during the day, the night was chilling. Renjun pulled his denim jacket closer to his body, but it did little to stave off the cold. He prayed to God that his parents hadn't noticed his absence. He doubted it, but the thought of his father’s stern face was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

He was lucky to only live a few blocks down from Yangyang. Although, most of the attendees at Palm Valley High lived in the same boring suburban neighborhood. Renjun was no different, with his pristine little two-story house, shining as white as a pearl on its plot of emerald green grass. He dragged himself up the walkway, onto the patio, through the door, and into the hallway with no problem. He internally congratulated himself on his impeccable stealth as he laid his hand on the doorknob to his room. But he acted a tad too soon, and light suddenly flooded the hallway.

“What were you doing out so late?”

“Mom, I was just--”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, young man,” she whispered harshly, likely avoiding waking up Mr. Huang, which Renjun believed to be a small mercy. “You smell disgusting. Did Donghyuck drag you into this?”

Renjun bit his tongue. “No, Mom,” he said under his breath. “He had nothing to do with this.”

“I should tell your father about this in the morning and let him take care of your punishment.” Renjun felt his heart seize up, his chest turning to ice. “You’re lucky he’s so busy at the university. I don’t want your behavior distracting him from his work.”

Renjun breathed a sigh of relief.

“I promise I won’t do it again, Momma,” Renjun said pitifully, practically on his knees for forgiveness. “It was just one time.”

“Go take a shower.” She pulled her bathrobe around herself and sniffed. “We’re getting up at eight o’clock for church.”

“Yes, Momma.”

February 12th, 1984 -- 97 days till state championships

Renjun woke up to the sound of ringing. At first, he thought it was an oncoming hangover, but as he broke free from the haze of sleep, he realized it was the phone on his bedside table.

Renjun groaned as he reached for the sun-yellow rotary phone. It was an old one his aunt had given him one particular Christmas during a particularly harsh winter. She had apologized profusely when she gave it to him, promising to make it up to him when she was standing on her own two feet. He still cherished it regardless.

The sun was just barely coming over the horizon, bathing the room in a cold blue light. Renjun knew there was only one person who had such little human decency to call him at the asscrack of dawn. He begrudgingly picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

“So you just left me to die at Yangyang’s last night, huh?” Donghyuck’s snarky tone barked through the receiver.

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” Renjun groaned and twisted the cable around his pointer finger. “Why the f*ck are you even awake at this hour? You usually sleep in ‘til noon.”

“I just got home, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and my back is killing me, Huang! I can’t believe you let me pass out on the stairs.”

“I’m really sorry, Hyuck,” Renjun sighed. He really did feel guilty. “Mark Lee was there and he tried to corner me and I-- I was really stupid for leaving you, but I didn’t think I could wait for you to sober up.”

“Oh, Junnie,” Donghyuck tsked. “You know he doesn’t even deserve you, right? You can do way better.”

“That doesn’t matter though,” Renjun said weakly, shuffling under the covers. If he closed his eyes, he could practically feel the warmth of Mark’s palm against his shoulder, feel his breath fan against his ear.

“Why’d you have to go for him, Junnie? Of all people, why him?”

“I dunno, Hyuck,” Renjun sighed and flopped onto his belly. “He’s quite charming when he keeps his mouth shut.”

Donghyuck snorts lightly, but lets a silence linger between them. “I’m still mad at you for leaving me last night.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You owe me, Huang.”

“Yeah, I know,” Renjun said exasperatedly. “I have to go to church in, like, an hour.”

“Again?”

“It’s every week, Donghyuck. That’s how church works”

“Well I wouldn’t know,” Donghyuck said sassily.

“Mom caught me last night while I was sneaking back in,” Renjun said forlornly.

“Seriously?” Donghyuck asked gleefully.

“Yeah, she was pissed,” Renjun groaned. “I think this is the last straw.”

“What were the other straws? You’re the perfect goody two-shoes.”

“Just last week I came home three hours past curfew because someone needed help running through lines.”

“Your curfew is nine-thirty, Junnie.”

“And?”

“You’re seventeen years old!”

“And?”

“And your parents have massive sticks up their butts.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Renjun said, slamming the phone back on its cradle and shoving his face into the pillows.

He’d never admit to the big grin on his face.

---

Renjun believed in God. He believed in him with his whole being. When the pastor asked the congregation if they could feel him in the room as they prayed and sang, Renjun did. He felt the warmth of his spirit around them all. He loved God. He had gone to Bible school at a young age and avidly sat through every lesson. Around him, the other kids shot spit balls at each other and drew in their books. But not Renjun. Renjun hung onto every word, internalized every line of the Bible until he felt it being etched into his heart

However, there were many things he disliked about church. He hated the way it smelled, the way he was the only person there under forty and over six, the way his mother nodded along with the inflection of the preacher, even though she had no idea what he was saying. He absolutely loathed the basket that his mother put their money into, knowing it’ll go directly into the hands of the pastor.

He hated the sermons about sin and hellfire, and how the old women raised their hands up in praise. He hated how those old women hugged him afterwards.

“Renjun, stand up,” his mother whispered. He snapped out of his daze. The congregation had raised for a hymn. He stood up in a hurry, grabbing the hymn book from behind him and turning to page eighty-seven. The words for “O Lord, Thou Judge of All the Earth” blinked up at him, stark black against white. The organ began to sound, and Renjun joined the off-tune chorus. If there was one part of church Renjun liked, it was the hymns. He loved the swell of the music and the resounding chime of the organ. He loved the way his mom hummed the notes gently, almost thoughtful. He could pretend that they were singing about God’s love. He imagined singing about God’s embrace like it was his mother’s. He pretended that they weren’t actually singing about fear.

That man is blest whom thou, O Lord,

with chast’ning hand dost teach thy will,

for in the day when sinners fall,

that man in peace abideth still

While Renjun sang, he thought of Donghyuck. Donghyuck never went to church. He imagined him burning in hell for piercing his ears and smoking and kissing boys behind closed doors. His chest tightened and he looked up from the hymn book, away from the judgmental wink of the ink. He locked eyes with Pastor Lee, who stood up at the podium with his back straight, looking so superior you might think he believed he was God himself. He ducked his head back down, and hummed the rest of the song with his mother.

When Renjun got home, he found the hymn book that he kept under his bed. He wasn’t supposed to have it, but he had smuggled it out of the church under his sweater when he was little. He used to stay up late at night under his covers with a flashlight, tracing over the words with his forefinger and humming as softly as he could. Renjun retrieved the book, blew the dust off its purple cover and ran his finger along the worn spine. He turned to page eighty-seven, ripped out the page, and tossed it into the wastebasket. No second thoughts, no hesitation. Renjun could practically feel the flames licking at his insides, consuming him from the inside out.

February 13th, 1984 -- 96 days till state championships

The next day at school, Renjun went to his homeroom with bags under his eyes. He had a test in chemistry, and he had stayed up all night poring over his notes. He still didn’t completely understand the concepts of entropy and enthalpy, and he felt dead in his seat. Renjun grudgingly pulled out his spiral notebook and laid his notes out on his desk while waiting for the teacher to arrive. He was never late; his mother had drilled into him from a young age that punctuality is one of the most important of virtues.

He took his favorite blue pen, and focused in. He underlined, circled, rewrote, and starred. Renjun became so engrossed in studying that he didn’t even notice the teacher come in and begin to take attendance.

Suddenly, Renjun felt a harsh shove to the back of his shoulder. He whipped around angrily to confront whoever had just pushed him out of nowhere . He expected the grinning face of Guanheng, his only friend in homeroom, but instead met the eyes of Lee Jeno. Any expletives died on his tongue.

“Pay attention,” he said plainly. “You missed your name.”

“What?” Renjun blurted out without much thought, his brain not quite processing the fact that Jeno Lee was interacting with him at even a basic level.

“He called your name, nerd.” Jeno took his pen and tapped it against the bridge of Renjun’s reading glasses before looking away from him dismissively, focusing on the front, where the teacher was writing school announcements on the chalkboard.

f*ck, Renjun thought.

He sighed. He’d talk to the teacher after class. Mr. Moon had always had a soft spot for him, so he’d probably be off the hook. He closed his notebook and looked up at the chalkboard, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“--expect more announcements on that soon. Spring Fling is on April 7th, and spring sports tryouts will be held after school on Friday. Any questions?” The classroom was silent. “You may spend the remaining,” Mr. Moon checked his watch, “thirteen minutes on quiet independent study.”

Renjun flipped open his notebook again, but his attention was caught by the view outside the classroom window. It was a foggy morning, and sluggish, ominous vapor slithered across the ground like slugs. But through the grey, he could still see the brick-red surface of the track. It shone like a beacon. It had been so long since Renjun had stepped foot onto its surface. In May of last year he was lifted off of it, into the arms of his cheering teammates after his record-smashing 3200 meter run. His sneakers lost contact with the Earth, and he felt as though he was as high as the clouds.

He inhaled sharply, looking back at his chemistry notes. He needed to focus. He needed to study. He picked up his blue pen again, only for the bell to ring the moment it touched the surface of the paper. The ink blotted it like a sad, electric blue raindrop, and Renjun mourned the mottled state of his notes. His messy chicken-scratch scrawls looped across the paper in nonsensical loop-de-loops, and his head hurt just from looking at them. Renjun sighed and closed his notebook. He packed everything into his backpack in a very dignified manner, and strode up to Mr. Moon’s desk with a savvy smile.

Sure, he was a nerdy church boy. Sure, he was a teacher’s pet and a preppy know-it-all. But as long as everyone saw him as such, they’d always overlook the dark circles under his eyes and his messy chemistry notes. They’d be so blindsighted by prejudice that they’d never see a boy destined for hellfire.

---

“Renjun, it’s just one test,” Donghyuck said while rolling his eyes. He took a massive bite of his cheeseburger and continued, “It’s not like you’re gonna fail the class or anything.”

Donghyuck had seen Renjun’s distressed state after school and decided to treat him to fries and a soda at Burger King. It was only three minutes away from the school by bike, and it became a fast hotspot for the students of Palm Valley High School when it was built their freshman year. Even with all the typical high school divisions, their love of the Farnham Street Burger King united them all.

“That’s not the point, Hyuck,” Renjun said, thoughtfully chewing on a fry. “Also, don’t talk with food in your mouth, it’s disgusting.”

“Damn, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” Donghyuck asked incredulously. “Are you sure you’re actually just upset about the chemistry test?”

Renjun nibbled on his lip. He’d never admit it, but Donghyuck always knew when Renjun was hiding something. Sometimes he wondered if his intuitive intellect surpassed his booksmarts. “I just…” He paused to sip on his Coca-Cola, “I don’t think I can do track this year.” At that, Donghyuck’s eyes bulged so much that Renjun was worried they’d pop out of their sockets.

“Renjun… you love track,” Donghyuck said carefully, as if talking to a child. “You’re a shoe-in for team captain! You’ve been working all these years. You’ve broken, no, smashed so many records I couldn’t count on my fingers and toes!” Donghyuck exclaimed.

“I can’t face him every day,” Renjun mumbled, fiddling with the paper wrapping of his straw, tying it into knots. “I just can’t.”

“You’re giving up everything you’ve worked for because of Mark f*cking Lee?” Donghyuck looked positively shell-shocked, but Renjun couldn’t really blame him.

“I’m not even going to continue track in college,” Renjun reasoned. “There’s no reason for me to stay. No one would miss me.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Donghyuck said firmly, “but if you think this is what you need to do to be happy, I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you, Hyuckie,” Renjun said genuinely. “I will miss the team, though.”

Donghyuck suddenly perked up, and Renjun became nervous. Donghyuck came up with a lot of ideas and schemes, and about 75% of them had the potential to get them into deep sh*t. “I have an idea.”

“You do?” Renjun asked weakly.

“Yes, I do,” Donghyuck grinned. “Join the tennis club! We need new members since most of our players graduated last year.”

Renjun couldn’t help but let out a groan. “Hyuck, I’m not going to start learning a brand new sport my senior year of high school.”

“Why not? That’s what Taeil did and he had loads of fun,” Donghyuck protested.

“I’m not your brother. Why are you even playing tennis anyway?” Renjun asked. “It’s a rich preppie sport. It’s the epitome of everything you hate.”

“We get access to the tennis club after school for free since one of the players’ dad is the owner,” Donghyuck shot back. “It’s not expensive, it’s a fun sport, and all the guys on junior varsity are cool. All the rich douchebag jocks are on the varsity team.”

“Hyuck,” Renjun sighed, “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Alright, whatever,” Donghyuck mumbled, resignedly eating the last bite of his burger. “We should start heading home, it’ll get dark soon.” He got up and threw away his trash, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he walked out the doors. Renjun sat dumbfounded for a moment, but soon snapped out of it and scrambled after Donghyuck. He found him outside, undoing his bike lock.

“Are you… mad at me?” Renjun asked, slightly stunned by his reaction. Donghyuck looked up from the lock, face twisted up like he was trying to hold back tears. It was unlike him. Donghyuck was always so carefree and nonchalant. Even Renjun barely got the chance to see him in any state of vulnerability. “What did I say?”

“It’s not your fault,” Donghyuck said, voice small. “It’s just-- Well, you’ve been so distant lately. We’re graduating in a couple months and you’ll go away to a great university in the city and I’ll be stuck here slinging burgers for high school students.” He pulled his rusty bike off the rack with an unpleasant screech of metal against metal. “I just thought if you joined the tennis club, I might get to see you more often. Before we have to say goodbye.” Donghyuck mounted his bicycle and gave him a weak smile. Renjun just watched as he pedaled west, towards the riverside houses.

In a daze, Renjun rode his bike east, to his comfy suburban home with clean-cut grass and a fireplace. He couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of guilt, but he wasn’t sure about what.

---

When Renjun arrived home, his parents were already sitting at the dinner table, having a spirited conversation in Chinese. They were drinking wine, and Renjun wondered what the special occasion could be. His mother hardly ever drank, and she had pulled out the nice bottle that Renjun thought they only really kept for display.

“Renjun, my love, please join us at the table,” his mother said earnestly. Renjun cautiously stepped into the dining room, delicately sliding into a seat. He almost worried if he misstepped he would set off a landmine. His mother smiled at him warmly, and he returned it hesitantly. His father sat at the head of the table, also beaming while his spectacles shone under the light. His cheeks were a little red from drunkenness. “Your father heard from Pastor Lee that spring sports tryouts are coming up.”

“Yes,” Renjun gulped, “that’s right.”

“There have been some… whisperings around town that there’ll be college recruiters at the track tryouts this year to check out the senior talent,” Renjun’s dad said with a sparkle in his eye. Renjun had worried about this. His parents had always had exceedingly high expectations for his future, and they thought his remarkable talent for running would be his path to a successful future.

“I’m not doing track this year,” Renjun blurted out suddenly. The eyes turned stone-cold. Renjun had set off the landmine. “I don’t want to in college, either.”

“Why do you have that notion, young man?” His father said calmly, setting his wine glass down on the table a little too hard.

“Because I just...” Renjun paused. He needed to come up with a lie. Fast. “I just thought that I’ve been doing it for too long.”

“Are you telling me,” his father began coldly, “that you are quitting because you are, what, bored?” His father laughed deeply and poured himself another glass of wine. “Huang men should never be that lazy, Renjun.”

“No!” Renjun exclaimed. “It’s-- It’s not that. I want to quit track because… because…” Renjun trailed off, and his father’s frown set deeper into his features. “Because I feel that I’ve challenged myself in that area enough, and now I should find something new to master.”

His father’s frown morphed into a look of surprise, and his eyebrow quirked up in question. “Oh? And what might this new challenge be?”

“Tennis, of course,” Renjun said calmly. “Any respectable man can hold their own in a match of tennis, don’t you think Father?”

Mr. Huang hummed in agreement. “If I had known you were so interested, we could have gotten you lessons with Pastor Lee,” he mused. “You know, Renjun, I used to be a tennis champion back in my high school days.”

“Maybe once I’ve gained some proficiency, we can play a match together,” Renjun proposed.

“I would very much like that.” Mr. Huang grinned. He raised his wine glass and proclaimed, “A toast to new challenges.” Renjun’s mom raised her wine glass and Renjun his water. The glasses clinked together pleasantly, and the happy chatter between his parents resumed. Renjun excused himself to his room, tip-toeing out of the dining room as carefully as he had come in.

When Renjun had closed the door behind him he breathed a deep sigh and slid down onto the floor. After he had collected himself, he called Donghyuck and said three simple words…

“You win, Hyuckie.”

February 17th, 1984 -- 92 days till state championships

Friday afternoon came all too soon, and Renjun could feel his palms sweating where they rested on his lap. He couldn’t sleep the night before, his mind running a mile a minute with miserable hypotheticals. What if he forgets his racquet? What if he ends up stuck with all the freshmen for the rest of the spring? If he doesn’t make it on the team, how will he explain it to his father?

His mouth felt dry and his heart felt like it might pound out of his chest. Donghyuck had given him his chocolate milk, but Renjun was worried it would curdle in his stomach. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous about tennis tryouts. Suddenly, he felt sick. His friends were gabbering spiritedly about Spring Fling and all the noise hurt his head. The cafeteria was hot. There were so many bodies cramped into such a small space, and Renjun was snugly squished between Xiaojun and Guanheng. Yangyang had brought homemade pea soup for lunch and the smell made Renjun dizzy with nausea.

He wiped his palms on his jeans, took a deep breath, and pretended to laugh at something Yangyang had said about Cindy Norris’ stilted performance as Ophelia when they performed Hamlet last fall . For the record, Renjun didn’t think she was that terrible, but Yangyang was probably right when he said he could’ve done better if given a wig and a dress.

Renjun tried to calm the tumult in his body. He took a sip of chocolate milk and closed his eyes for a moment. He began to cool down, his stomach settled, and he felt his anxiety slowly begin to quell. He opened his eyes, only to be met by harsh light and the probing stare of Mark Lee from across the cafeteria.

Renjun stood up abruptly, muttering something about needing to pee before rushing out the doors of the lunchroom. He made a beeline for the art hall, where he knew the bathroom would be empty. He could faintly hear the cafeteria door open and close behind him and the sound of hurried footsteps. Renjun ignored them, ducking into the bathroom and immediately splashing his face with freezing cold water. When he looked up at himself in the mirror, his face was beet red and his pupils were dilated in the dim light. And behind him, there was the looming figure of Mark Lee.

“Are you--” he cleared his throat, “Are you alright?”

“Not now, Mark,” Renjun said with annoyance.

“Not now?” Mark repeated incredulously. “You know I care about you, Jun.”
“Don’t call me that,” Renjun bit out.

“Renjun.” Mark took a step forward, and Renjun pressed himself against the sink until the harsh ceramic edge dug painfully into his spine. “Please, I just want to look out for you. Because you’re my friend. We’ve always been friends.”

“If you care about me, you’d leave me alone,” Renjun said, feeling suddenly very overwhelmed by emotion. Tears burned at the backs of his eyes and his hands gripped the sink behind him like a lifeline.

“Renjun, track tryouts are today ,” Mark said calmly. “Can’t we just make amends? Have one last season together?”

“I’m not going to be at track tryouts today, Mark,” Renjun said dismissively, slowly inching towards the door. Mark blocked his path before he could even reach for the handle.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means that I’m not doing track this year.”

“Renjun…” Mark’s eyes were blown wide, clearly shocked beyond words. “You’re a natural. You’re the best runner on the team. No, the best in the state.”

“And?” Renjun said dryly. He tried to duck under Mark’s arm, but he held him in place by the shoulders. Renjun fought back a blush, he had already endured enough embarrassment today without becoming a groveling, enamored wreck in front of the object of his rejected affections.

“I can’t let you quit because of me.” Mark ran a hand through his hair in a stressed manner. It was sticking up at all sorts of silly angles, and Renjun felt his breath catch. Dumb feelings. “You can’t give it all up because of me. I’m not worth it, Jun.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.” Renjun pushed Mark’s arms away and made for the door.

“Renjun, wait!” Mark exclaimed. “I’ll quit! You don’t have to give up track, I’ll quit if you’ll come back this season. The team needs you.”

“I’m joining the tennis club.” Renjun opened the door. “I need to do this, Mark. I need to move on.” The door closed behind him, and Renjun realized that the suffocating aching in his chest had been reduced to a dull twinge. He smiled slightly to himself, and when the bell rang, he felt regretful that he had left his chocolate milk in the cafeteria.

---

Renjun wasn’t sure what he was expecting from tennis tryouts, but it certainly wasn’t an old man lining him up with a bunch of freshies outside the town’s tennis club. He felt beyond awkward in his tiny running shorts and beat-up Nike sneakers. His mom had bought him a brand new racquet, and he gripped it tight in his hand to keep them from shaking. He almost felt like a soldier preparing for war. The boys around him stood with their backs straight and faces hard as stone.

“Alright, kiddos,” the old man barked. He fixed his eyes on each of them, seemingly sizing them up like melons in a grocery store. He then pulled his cap far over his eyes, so all they could see was a smile and shadow. “Welcome to the team. Those of you who have never played tennis before, stay here on this court with me. Those of you with some experience, you’ll be with the junior varsity team on outdoor courts one, two, and three.” He stood expectantly with his hands on his hips, but nobody moved a muscle. “What’re you starin’ like statues for? Go!”

Renjun stayed put, and so did three thoroughly frightened-looking freshmen. The coach approached them, grin still present and visible underneath the lip of his cap. “Today, I go easy on you,” he started, looking positively gleeful, “but on Monday, you’ll be thrown right into the carnage.” Renjun thought he heard the boy beside him whimper. He’d been through this before, coaches scaring their newbies into working harder, running faster, being better. It’s not really intimidation, it’s motivation. “Young man,” the coach suddenly said, and Renjun felt a surge of fear when he realized he was addressing him.

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s that you have in your hand?” Renjun looked down. His tennis racquet was held firmly in his right hand, and there was nothing in his left.

“My tennis racquet?” He responded, somehow feeling unsure of this answer.

“Son, that is a child’s tennis racquet,” the man said sternly. There was a smattering of snickers from the freshmen, and Renjun quite frankly wanted to sock each of them in the mouth. “You’re lucky I brought an extra. This happens every year.” The coach handed him the loaner racquet. It was much bigger and it was a bright firetruck red. He turned it around in his hand, but it didn’t fit quite as well as the first one.

“Actually, sir,” Renjun spoke up, “can I use this one instead?”

The coach paused a moment, his grin replaced by a puzzled downturn of the mouth. “You want to use the kiddie racquet?” Renjun just gave him a firm nod, even though he was becoming less and less sure of his decision by the second. “Get over there on the court, Son.”

Renjun followed his orders, standing on the other side of the net awkwardly while the freshmen watched the spectacle from the safety of the sidelines. “Right here?” He called over to the coach, who was poised on the other side of the court. He looked like he was getting ready to serve.

Oh, sh*t.

“Get over to the right side of the court,” he ordered. “Have you never watched a tennis match, boy?”

Renjun stepped to the right side of the court, holding his racquet up in preparation. He vaguely remembered this from when Donghyuck had briefed him on the rules of tennis and the anatomy of the court. Always start the game on the right side. He belatedly wished he had paid more attention when Donghyuck was schooling him on proper technique. Suddenly, Renjun heard the hollow thunk of a tennis ball and felt the whoosh of something by his thigh. Just a moment later: uproarious laughter. How was he supposed to hit that? He couldn’t even see the ball coming towards him! He hadn’t expected such an old man to have a serve so powerful. Renjun quickly discovered the first parallel between track and tennis: never underestimate your opponent.

Renjun brushed it off as the coach prepared to serve on the other side of the court. He moved to the left side, but this time moving backwards to give himself more space to return the serve. This time, the ball went thunk, but there was no rush of air that accompanied a missed shot. Renjun felt the tension. The tremor in his wrist when the ball connected with the strings of his racquet. Along with it, he felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. There was no laughter from the sidelines, and that shot felt like Renjun’s own tiny victory.

“Out,” the coach called flatly. “The score is thirty-love.”

So much for victory.

Renjun rushed to the other side of the court, holding his racquet up and ready. He planted his feet firmly and fixed his eyes on the ball. This time, when the coach served, Renjun watched it. It flew over the net fast, almost skimming the top, and it landed close to Renjun’s feet. He managed to hit it, his racquet scraping against the surface of the court as he hit it right after the bounce. It didn’t go very far, just right over the net, and his coach must have not expected this, because he scrambled to get to the net in time. The ball bounced a second time, and Renjun felt his second taste of victory. Real victory this time.

“Nice shot, Son,” the coach said. “You got some luck in ya. That’ll be helpful.”

Renjun got ready for another serve. His palms were sweaty, and he worried that if he tried to swing at the ball, his racquet would fly from his hands. He didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, however, because his coach was throwing the ball high in the air, and bringing his racquet up with it to serve. The ball flew, hitting its mark. Renjun swung, and it was sent flying back towards the coach on the other side of the court. It was a weak shot, and the ball landed around the service line at the end of a slow arc. The coach only needed to take several long steps to reach it, and he returned with a powerful shot to the right-hand back corner of Renjun’s court.

It seemed like a surefire triumph, and the coach had already lowered his racquet as if the point had been won. Renjun knew he could use this to his advantage. He bolted, eyes focused on the trajectory of the ball, which was whizzing to the other side of the court. For a moment, Renjun didn’t think he’d make it. He extended his arm as far as he could, reaching his racquet and willing the strings to catch the ball. A satisfying thwap told Renjun he had succeeded. He watched the little yellow-green speck hurtle over the net, and the old coach’s eyes widened in shock. It was a strong, cross-court shot, and Renjun heard the coach grunt as he tried to return it, but to no avail.

His coach took off his hat and pushed his greying hair out of his eyes. “What’s your name, Son?” He asked.

“Renjun Huang, sir,” Renjun answered back respectfully, maintaining his composure despite the fresh spike of adrenaline running through his veins.

“That was a nice shot, Renjun,” he said simply. “The score is thirty all.” Renjun nodded and got into position.

Never underestimate your opponent.

---

In the end, Renjun lost the game thirty-forty. He shook hands with the coach, feeling that perhaps they had established a mutual kind of respect.

Renjun got his turn on the sidelines, and he watched as the old man completely obliterated the freshmen one by one. Most of the time they weren’t even able to return his serves, which were fast and cunning and calculated. They didn’t know how to shift their positions to adapt to his plays, they weren’t fast enough, and their noodle arms couldn’t muster up enough strength to hit the ball over the net from the baseline. Overall, they were hopeless. But Renjun didn’t laugh. He stayed stoic on the sidelines, hoping he was giving off an air of superiority that would scare the freshmen from talking to him.

After every boy had had their turn to play, they were lined back up. The coach took his cap off to wipe his brow, and he leaned on his racquet for support. “Boys, you’re all on the team.” This was met by a chorus of obnoxious whooping from the three freshmen. “But it’s not because you’re any good.” The whooping ceased. “We lost over half our team last year after graduation, and it’s lookin’ like I need to rebuild this team from the bottom up.” The coach sighed, and Renjun couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. No amount of pay could convince him to teach high schoolers how to play tennis while in his seventies. “You three,” he looked pointedly at the freshmen, “are done for the day. We’ll be working on form and strategy on Monday.” They stood and stared at Renjun for a moment, but quickly left with murmurs about favoritism and senior privilege.

The coach grinned at him from under his hat. “I recognize your name, Son,” he said. “You’re that star runner, ain’t ya?”

“I think I am, sir,” Renjun responded, trying to sound humble despite his pride.

“Renjun, I’d like to be frank with you,” the old man said to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You have real potential, my boy, and I think you can do better than being a doubles junior varsity player.”

“What do you mean?” Renjun asked, laughing nervously.

“I believe you have a natural talent for tennis,” he explained. He took off his cap once again, and Renjun saw his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re the perfect singles player. Agile, determined, and you’ve got a pretty good arm, too.”

“But I thought only the top five players on the team get to play singles.” Renjun’s head was spinning. Sure, he did fairly well in his match against the coach, but he still lost.

“I think that if you get some extra training, you could be one of our top players before the district tournament rolls around.”

“Sir, I’m flattered, really,” Renjun began to babble, wringing his hands, “but I think you have too much faith in me! You said it before… I just got lucky.”

“No, Renjun.” The old man shook his head. “If you apply yourself properly, if you dedicate yourself to this team, you could be an amazing player.”

“And if I can’t?”

“I’ll be disappointed,” the coach said bluntly, “but you’d still be able to play doubles on the junior varsity team like the other newbies.”

Renjun thought for a moment. When he’d decided to sign up for tennis, it wasn’t really for himself. It was to please his father, to spite Mark, and spend more time with Donghyuck. He didn’t know that he would be signing up for varsity-level training or dedication to his team. He was expecting to spend about an hour hitting balls around every afternoon. Low-stakes, fun, and a stress-free spring season. Nothing seemed to go the way he expected them to these days.

“Well,” Renjun said hesitantly, “I guess I could try.”

The coach grinned again, slipping his cap back on. He clapped Renjun on the shoulder two times before starting towards where the junior varsity team was playing half-hearted, giggly games of tennis. Renjun saw Donghyuck among them. He was doubled up in laughter while a sophom*ore moved about the court like a gorilla, racquet looking as lonely and abandoned as a shipwreck behind him. “I need to go take care of this,” he said with a good-natured sigh. “Starting on Monday, you’ll be on indoor court one. Oh, and don’t expect to be home before six o’clock anymore.” He smiled and jogged off towards the JV team, barking reprimands that were met with raucous laughter.

Renjun stood there for a moment, watching as the coach organized junior varsity into teams of two. Then, he looked beyond, at the big grey box looming over the outdoor courts, casting a cold shadow as the sun began to set behind it. Donghyuck had told him only the varsity players get to practice indoors. To Renjun, the indoor courts were already intimidating enough, so it didn’t help that they looked like they were held in a steel ice chest. He looked down at his racquet, feeling suddenly fond. It was smaller than all the rest, but the grip already felt molded to his hand, and Renjun had never felt so much trust in an inanimate object before.

“We’re about to have a lot of adventures together, aren’t we?” He said softly as he found his backpack by the fence. He slung it over his shoulder and walked away with a chest lighter than it was before. He selfishly wondered if the track team was mourning the loss of their star runner. He hoped Mark felt guilty. Renjun hopped up on his bicycle, putting his racquet in the front basket, and riding away from the tennis courts. Away from the sunset. The wind felt good in his hair, so he pedaled faster.

February 18th, 1984 -- 91 days till state championships

“So… How’d your first practice go?” Donghyuck asked eagerly. Renjun laid on his bed, phone pressed to his ear and eyes closed. His shoulder hurt. It was Saturday morning and Renjun could smell the bacon his mother was making in the kitchen. His stomach grumbled.

“It was fine,” Renjun said shortly. He was slightly grumpy that Donghyuck had woken him up with a phone call (and that now he couldn’t even leave to get some bacon).

“Just fine?”

“Yeah, I mean,” suddenly all the memories from yesterday flooded into his sleepy brain, “he thinks I have a lot of potential or something.”

“He said that?”

“Yeah. Said I might get to play varsity singles if I go to extra practices or whatever.”

“Wow…” Donghyuck took a long pause.

“Hyuck?” Renjun questioned. “You there still?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here,” Donghyuck said. “That’s just-- Well, that’s amazing, Junnie.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Renjun replied a bit bashfully. “It’s not really what I was expecting, but it’s kinda cool. My dad will eat it up.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Donghyuck laughed, but it didn’t sound like he meant it.

“Hey, dude, are you good?”

“I’m fine, Junnie,” Donghyuck said a bit too defensively. “I haven’t had my coffee this morning, that’s all.”

“Okay, well--” Renjun began to say it had been nice talking to him, but Donghyuck had hung up and the dial tone rang in his ear.

Rude.

Renjun stretched his arms up and groaned. He barely even did anything yesterday but his shoulder still hurt like a bitch. Maybe he should go back to sleep for a while to give his body some extra time to recuperate. Renjun snuggled back into his blankets with this very intention, only for his stomach to growl a second time. Very loudly. He sighed, maybe getting up was a good idea.

After Renjun managed to pull himself from the cozy haven of his blankets, he walked into the kitchen in his pajama pants. His mother was bustling about the kitchen, cleaning up after the mess left behind after breakfast. She already had lipstick on, and Renjun suspected she had curled her hair overnight, because it hung in bouncy waves around her shoulders. She hummed the melody to a song from one of her old Chinese records, and Renjun couldn’t help but smile. She seemed so happy. Even happier than usual.

His father was sitting at the dining table in front of a mess of papers. He was shirtless and had his huge reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. When he looked up at Renjun, his eyes were blown too big like an exotic insect. “Mornin’ kid,” he mumbled. He was using one of the papers as a coaster for his huge mug of coffee, and he sipped on it pensively as he flipped through a stack of documents, occasionally marking one with a red pen.

“Renjunnie!” His mother exclaimed, taking off her dishwashing gloves and rushing over to him. She kissed and pinched his cheeks while he moaned in protest.

“Mom,” he whined, “I’m seventeen, you can’t treat me like I’m still five.”

“I’m your mother, I can do whatever I please,” she said flippantly. “Do you want some bacon? I saved a few pieces for you.”

“Only a few?”

“Aren’t you seventeen? If you want more bacon then make it yourself,” she said with a huff.

Renjun sighed and made himself some toast to go with the bacon he snagged off the plate on the counter. He pushed aside the papers on the dining table to make room for his plate, much to the chagrin of his father, who apparently had a very meticulous organizational system going on.

“Pastor Lee called this morning,” his father said suddenly.

“He did?” Mrs. Huang said surprisedly from the kitchen. “What did he want?”

“He heard that Renjun joined the tennis team,” he said. “He owns the tennis club, and he wanted to offer him a free membership for the spring season.” Renjun almost choked on his orange juice.

“Why would he do that?” Renjun exclaimed. He had always assumed Pastor Lee held some very deep distaste for him, what with all the stern looks he had received over the years.

“He said he finds you to be a very upstanding young man,” his father said proudly. “He said he admires your dedication to the church, and that you ought to be rewarded for it.”

“My dedication to the church…” Renjun let those words rattle around in his brain for a while.

“Our Renjunnie is the only boy his age that goes to church,” his mother suddenly cut in. “I swear, parents just aren’t teaching morals anymore.” She tutted and went back to washing the dishes.

“He’s got sense.” His father reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Well,” Renjun said slowly, “that’s a very generous offer.”

“Pastor Lee has a boy your age, Renjunnie.” His mother sat down with them at the dining table, a glass of orange juice in hand. She pushed Mr. Huang’s papers out of the way and he grumbled in protest. “If you don’t want people to touch your things, don’t lay them all over the dining table at breakfast,” she chided.

“Wait, Mom, Pastor Lee has a son?” Renjun inquired, taking a bite of his bacon. It was cooked perfectly, in the usual Mrs. Huang fashion.

“Yes, he has two sons as well as a daughter. Doyoung, Yeeun, and Jeno, I believe?” She looked towards Mr. Huang for confirmation and he shrugged in response, making a big swooping motion on one of the papers with his red pen.

“Jeno?” Renjun asked weakly.

“Yes,” his mother said, still chipper and not detecting his discomfort. “He’s supposedly an amazing tennis player.”

“I thought he played football?” Mr. Huang interjected, peering over one of his papers.

“He does, but he also plays tennis. And badminton, I think. Golf, too.” Renjun rolled his eyes.

“I bet he can’t do this though,” Renjun said, taking a piece of bacon and holding it under his nose with pouted lips. “Look, it’s a moustache.” Renjun’s father looked up from his work, then immediately down again, shaking his head.

“Renjun, that’s disgusting,” his mother scolded. “Don’t play with your food.”

“I’d bet that Lee Jeno could, in fact, do that,” Mr. Huang said, taking a long swig from his coffee mug.

“Shut up, Dad.”

The mug was set down on the table with a loud thunk. “What did you just say, young man?”

“Nothing!” Renjun got up from the table and scurried away to his room. “Thanks for the bacon, Momma!”

“Huang Renjun, come clean up your dishes right this instant!”

February 20th, 1984 -- 89 days till state championships

“Hey, Hyuckie,” Renjun whispered, pushing some old Shakespeare plays out of the way to peer at Donghyuck through the gap. They had come to the library to find a novel for their English project, but Donghyuck had insisted on finding a play.

“Yeah?” Donghyuck responded, giggling slightly as he met eyes with Renjun through the bookshelf.

“Were you upset with me on Saturday?” Renjun asked. “When we were on the phone… you seemed distant.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Donghyuck said dismissively, waving his hand around as if to physically shoo away Renjun’s worry. “My mom was just being a royal pain in the ass again,” he sighed. “I’m wondering how long it’ll be before she finally decides to boot me.”

“She wouldn’t,” Renjun said insistently (and a little too loudly, as he got shushed by the librarian). “She’s misguided, but not cruel.”

“I hope you’re right.” Donghyuck forced a smile onto his face, and Renjun wished he could turn it into a real one.

“You’re sure there’s nothing else wrong?” Renjun asked, just to be sure.

“Don’t think so,” Donghyuck replied shortly. “So… Your first practice actually went well? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, right?”

“It did go well.” Renjun ran his finger along the spines of the books in front of him. They looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. “I think the coach likes me.”

“I forgot my racquet at my first practice,” Donghyuck said with a bitter laugh. “Had to use the sh*tty rental one.”

“I found out my racquet is technically for children.”

“For real?”

“Yup.”

“Holy sh*t.” Donghyuck doubled over in laughter, not bothering to try and muffle it. Renjun didn’t even think he’d be able to if he tried. A shadow was suddenly cast over them. The librarian towered menacingly in her high-heels, and the glare on her face drove them out in a laughing frenzy.

Luckily, Donghyuck had stolen away a copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream under his sweater.

They gasped for breath outside the door. Renjun was keeled over and Donghyuck wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. After they had calmed down, they headed to Donghyuck’s locker to drop off the book. The silence between them was innocent, peaceful, but Renjun couldn’t help but still feel as though something was off between them. “So… we’re good, right?” He asked timidly. “Forreal?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Donghyuck reached over and ruffled his hair. “You should stop worrying so much.”

“Well, you know me.”

“Unfortunately.”

---

When Renjun arrived back on the courts, he felt a bit remorseful that he was playing inside that day. The sun was out and shining brilliantly, and through the cold he could feel the rays of its warmth. It was a pleasant sort of burn. Like warming your cold fingers in front of a fire after playing in the snow. Renjun spotted the coach talking to a couple of varsity players at the entrance to the indoor tennis courts. He hesitated to approach. Even if most of the varsity players were actually younger than him, he still felt strangely intimidated. In track, he was used to being the best. He didn’t feel intimidated by anyone (with the exception of Mark Lee) because he was always the most knowledgeable athlete in the room. Here, he was out of his depth. No one worshipped him here, no one even expected good performance. Swallowing his fear and his pride, he strode over to where the coach was talking to the varsity players.

As he got closer, he recognized the boys as Jaemin Na, famously Jeno Lee’s number one competition for top spot on the team. Well, famously to the tennis team. Renjun had an inkling that no one else in the school really cared about tennis club drama. Donghyuck had briefed him on everything to know about the players and their dynamics. Also standing in the tight-knit circle were doubles partners Jisung Park and Chenle Zhong. Apparently they were childhood best friends, and their nonverbal communication on the court was borderline eerie.

They were all laughing together. Probably about some obscure tennis joke that Renjun wouldn’t understand the punchline to. He couldn’t believe how insecure these varsity players made him feel. For God’s sake, Chenle and Jisung were sophom*ores.

They all stopped talking when they saw Renjun approach. Jaemin looked at him curiously. Not reproachful, but with a certain air of superiority that Renjun still found off-putting.

“Excuse me, Coach,” Renjun said quietly. “Are we practicing on court one today?”
“You are practicing on court one, yes,” he responded, his eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion.

“You mean… you’re not working with me today?”

“Oh, no.” he laughed and for some reason Chenle cackled with him. Renjun glared slightly at him. He didn’t notice because he was busy laughing. “I’m having you work with our absolute best player on the team.”

“I’m standing right here!” Jaemin exclaimed. “He hasn’t beaten me in a challenge match this year yet!”

“Yes, but he will,” the coach said impatiently. “I think he’s waiting for you, you should go get started.”

Renjun left as quietly as he had come. When he opened the door to the tennis club, he needed a moment to take it in. It was even colder inside than it had been outside. There was no sun, only big industrial-looking lights, which made the grey brick walls look almost clinical. The courts looked the same as the ones outside. Grass-green with white detailing. There were little scuffs everywhere, and tufts of tennis ball fuzz stuck haphazardly to the surface of the courts. The ceiling was very high, and over court one there was a huge window that looked into the observation area, which was furnished with cushy chairs. It smelled like tennis balls, too, which wasn’t a scent Renjun had learned to embrace yet.

Overall, he found it oppressive.

The loud thump of a tennis ball hitting the wall shook him out of his reverie. He looked at the person standing on court one. He was practicing serves, it looked like. He was fast. Renjun couldn’t isolate each of his movements if he wanted to. It was just one big blur of strong arms and racquet and the ruthless thwap of the ball in the service box. It was clean, but far from sharp. Renjun’s eyes couldn’t focus when he watched him. The boy suddenly stopped, his hand reached into his pocket, but he had no more balls. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and started towards the courtside bench, where there sat a lone water bottle and a backpack.

It was only then when Renjun realized who he was looking at.

“Are you just gonna stand there and stare?” Jeno called to him mockingly, a self-satisfied smile adorning his features.

“You’re my coach?” Renjun asked, more to ground himself in reality than as an actual inquiry.

“Yes?” Jeno said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Renjun supposed maybe it was obvious. “I’m the best player and team captain, are you surprised?”

“That’s not what Jaemin Na told me,” Renjun said teasingly.

Jeno rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a thing that dumbass says.” They shared a brief awkward silence, which Renjun broke when he couldn’t take it any longer.

“So, where do you want me.” Renjun walked over and set down his water bottle beside Jeno’s.

“Well, I’m not sure where to start.” Jeno sighed. “I’m not a coach, and I think Albert is putting too much faith in both your ability to learn and my ability to teach.”

“Who’s Albert?”

“Our coach.” Jeno looked like he was already regretting all his life choices, so Renjun decided to give him a break.

“I think we should start with form,” Renjun spoke up confidently. “That’s where I started with track.”

Jeno stood and thought for a moment. “That’s actually a good idea,” he said finally. “Okay, follow me.”

Jeno was a diligent coach. He didn’t expect Renjun to get things on the first try, but he expected things to be done right before they moved on. Renjun seemed to have a knack for backhands, which was apparently impressive from the way Jeno’s eyebrows raised up towards his hairline as he simply said, “I think we can move on.”

On the other hand, there were things that Renjun seemed almost entirely incapable of altogether. For example: the ball toss. It seemed easy. Just throw the ball straight up in the air, as high as you can reach with your racquet. However, every time Renjun threw the ball, it seemed to be carried by an invisible wind and ended up a few feet away from his starting position. Jeno insisted they continue practicing his toss until he could successfully do it five times in a row. Renjun didn’t know how long this took him, but it was long enough that his arm felt like complete dead weight afterwards.

After they had finally finished going over the basics, Jeno briefed him on the rules of tennis. Renjun disliked the point system intensely, but Jeno shrugged and muttered something about that ‘just being the way it is.’ Jeno droned on and on about the let rule, where to stand and when, and even how to shake hands at the end of a match.

Renjun became distracted in the middle of Jeno’s lesson. He focused on his eyes. They weren’t anything like his father’s. In fact, if he hadn’t known that Pastor Lee was Jeno’s father, he never would have made the connection. Pastor Lee had sharp, inquisitive eyes. They seemed cold and unexpressive, like years of practicing virtue had turned them to pure glass.

Jeno’s eyes were expressive. They disappeared into his face when he smiled too much or laughed too hard. But that wasn’t very often. When he could see them, they shone with the glimmer of something alive. Right below one of his eyes, there was a mole, and Renjun wondered why he’d never noticed before. Upon reflection, he hadn’t previously had the opportunity to stare so intently at Jeno Lee’s face. Oh, God. He was staring.

Renjun let the white noise drain from his ears, and brought back the sound.

“--and that is the most important lesson you’ll ever learn in tennis.”

“Um.” Renjun suddenly felt terribly guilty. “What did you say?”

“Have you not been listening?” Jeno asked, seemingly astounded by his inability to focus. “This whole time?”
“I heard the part about always serving on the right side first.” Renjun wrung his hands slightly, reaching for his water bottle just to give himself a distraction.

“Renjun,” Jeno took a deep breath like he was using all his strength to not strangle Renjun in that moment, “that was the first thing I said.”

“Please tell me what you just said,” Renjun pleaded. “I didn’t mean to, I’m just really tired.”

“You want to know the most important lesson you’ll ever learn in tennis?” Jeno asked with fake pity in his voice.

“Just tell me!” Renjun would not take any of Lee Jeno’s condescending bullsh*t today.

“If you want to know, you’ll have to earn it,” Jeno said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay…” Renjun said slowly, suspicious of whatever Jeno had up his sleeve. “What do I have to do?”

“You have to beat me in a game of tennis.”

“Are you serious?” Renjun asked angrily. “You just don’t want to tell me, is that it?”

“Of course not, I’m your teacher.”

“Then why ?” Renjun said exasperatedly. “You know I’ll never be able to win a game against you.”

“Well, you don’t seem to be very receptive to lecture,” Jeno said simply. “Clearly you’re more of a hands-on learner.”

Renjun scoffed, but he didn’t deny Jeno’s claims. Not because he was right. Just because he suddenly didn’t feel like fighting.

“Whatever.” Renjun grabbed his racquet and stood on the opposite side of the court, ready to receive one of Jeno’s merciless serves, and far behind the service line to give himself plenty of reaction time.

“What are you doing?” Jeno tilted his head to the side and Renjun fleetingly thought it was cute. Then he was annoyed.

“What do you think?” Renjun lowered his racquet and put his hand on his hip. “Let’s play a game.”

“Renjun,” Jeno laughed, and Renjun didn’t understand what was so f*cking funny, “we’ve been practicing for three hours. I don’t know about you, but I need to get home sometime soon.”

“sh*t!” Renjun exclaimed, running off the court and grabbing his water bottle and backpack. “It’s seven already?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Jeno said sarcastically.

“You’re not funny!” Renjun yelled behind his shoulder as he ran towards the doors. Sure enough, the sky was already dark. He hopped onto his bike and pedaled as fast as he could, taking some slightly sketchy shortcuts through town to reach home faster. Renjun chuckled to himself. He could barely believe he actually managed to somewhat get along with Jeno Lee. He wasn’t nearly as much of a dirtbag as Renjun had previously thought. Sure, he was a little surly and a bit hostile, but not cruel.

He finally reached home, throwing his bicycle haphazardly on the grass. The sky was pitch now, all traces of sun having disappeared behind the horizon. In all that rush, Renjun stopped. He looked up at the night sky, riddled with twinkly little stars. He found the big dipper, and traced it with his forefinger.

“Renjun, is that you? Come inside, what are you doing out there?”

“Coming, Mom!” Renjun took one last glance, and he could have sworn he saw the stars thrum all in unison, all for him.

February 21st, 1984 -- 88 days till state championships

“So how’s tennis going, Junnie?” Guanheng asked obnoxiously during lunchtime, his mouth full of crackers and bologna from his Lunchables.

“Dude, why do you eat those? They’re for children.”

“Was I talking to you?” Guanheng snapped at Donghyuck. “No? Then mind your own business.”

“Tennis is going pretty well,” Renjun interjected quickly to diffuse whatever quarrel was beginning to brew. “Jeno is coaching me now.” The table fell into almost complete silence.

“Jeno Lee?” Yangyang asked, as if he didn’t quite believe it.

“Um, yes?” Renjun replied, not quite sure what was so confusing. “He’s a really skilled player, and the coach can’t work with me closely like he can.”

“Isn’t that hard though?” Guanheng asked. “Jeno seems… really intense. I can’t imagine having him as my coach.”

“I think I’d piss my pants ten times over,” Donghyuck agreed.

“Guys, he’s not that bad.” Renjun laughed at their dramaticism. What else could you expect from theatre geeks. “He’s actually been really helpful.”

“He seems like such an uptight asshole,” Donghyuck said. “He totally disregards the junior varsity team. He’s captain and I bet he doesn’t even know my name.” Donghyuck huffed.

“I’m sure that’s not true!” Renjun couldn’t believe his ears. Although, he might have believed those same things just a few days ago.

“I heard one time a football player from San Francisco challenged Jeno to an arm wrestling match and he broke his wrist!” Yangyang chimed.

“Didn’t he jump his teammate in the showers for questioning one of his plays?” Guanheng cut in.

“I heard his dad bribed Coach Albert to give him the top spot on the tennis ladder,” Donghyuck said in a hushed voice.

Renjun quickly grew bored of their gossip, tuning them out when he heard Xiaojun corroborating a story about Jeno using steroids. He looked around the cafeteria. The jocks had several different subgroups of friends that they magnetized to. He skimmed them one by one, but strangely enough, he didn’t see Jeno at all. Maybe he ate in a classroom. Some of the more studious students liked to eat with their favorite teachers and get extra lesson time. While Renjun did excel in his studies, he refused to be that much of a teachers’ pet. Maybe if he wasn’t friends with Donghyuck he would feel differently.

“Earth to Renjun!” A hand was suddenly being frantically waved in his field of vision, and his train of thought was dismantled immediately. In its place, Guanheng’s dumb grinning face. “Whatcha lookin’ for?” he asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What the hell are you talking about.” Sometimes theatre kids were a little too nosy for their own good.

“Are you looking for a certain Mark Lee?” A muffled thump from under the table indicated that Donghyuck had given him a very sharp kick.

“Guanheng, shut up,” Donghyuck said through gritted teeth.

Renjun suddenly felt very alone. He knew Donghyuck always had the best of intentions when it came to his feelings but… he couldn’t help but feel as though his friends thought he was made of glass. The rejected queer kid with a rich, hyperreligious family. Renjun was aware how his good grades, athleticism, and churchgoing all seemed like a mask. Something shiny and good to distract from the decay and delinquency below. He knew how his friends must think he was agonizing inside. And in a lot of ways, he was. But he didn’t like to think of his good attributes as a façade. Renjun wasn’t faking anything. He was going through his life as genuinely as it was safe to. Just like everyone else.

“Donghyuck, it’s fine,” Renjun said calmly, taking a bite of his sandwich. “His mouth runs faster than his brain.”

“Hey!”

“How’s tennis going for you, Hyuck?” Xiaojun piped up from across the table, where he’d been quietly working on algebra homework.

“It’s actually going really well.” Donghyuck perked up happily, almost looking like a puppy that’s been called after a while of neglect. Renjun could practically see his tail wagging in delight. “I think that me and my doubles partner are actually going to make varsity this year.”

“Wow, Hyuck,” Renjun said. “That’s awesome.”

“I can’t be sure until we start challenge matches tomorrow, but I’m hopeful.” He shrugged bashfully.

“Challenge matches?” Renjun questioned. “What’re those?”

“You didn’t hear Coach Albert’s announcement after practice yesterday?” Donghyuck asked.

“No, Jeno and I were playing tennis until almost seven.” Renjun sighed. He had gotten his ear talked off by a very worried mother last night.

“Seriously?” Yangyang’s jaw had dropped. “How could you stand that guy for so long?”

“Shut up, idiot,” Renjun snapped. “Hyuck, what are challenge matches?”

“It’s how tennis coaches build the team ladder,” Donghyuck explained. “You have to play matches against people on the team to determine the ranking.”

“The ranking?” Renjun felt a bit faint.

“Yeah, dude.” Donghyuck didn’t seem to notice his distress. “It’s pretty brutal. I got my ass beat pretty bad last year and only placed #12. In my junior year.” He paused like he needed a moment to let the leftover agony wash over him. “Luckily #13 was a pretty cool guy. His name was Xuxi. He graduated last year.”

“I remember that guy,” Yangyang said suddenly. “He vandalised the school statue on graduation day last year by spray-painting dicks all over it.”

“He has a…” Donghyuck trailed off in thought. “Very unique sense of humor.”

His friends continued to talk around him, but Renjun’s head was already swimming with hypotheticals. What if he did terribly in challenge matches and the coach sent him back to play with the freshmen? What if he was forced to play against Jeno and make a fool of himself? What if he ended up being the worst player on the team? Renjun took a sip from his Capri Sun, his pseudo-lunch for the day, and chewed on the straw with worry. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He was beginning to realize that he wanted to be the player Coach Albert believed he could be. Tennis wasn’t a burden anymore, nor was it the fulfillment of other people’s wishes. He wanted to be that player for himself, because the seed had been planted and it had grown into a beanstalk. Renjun stopped chewing on the straw. Maybe he was thinking about it too much. He pushed his glasses from where they had slipped down his nose, and stood up abruptly from the table.

“I need to go ask Mrs. Boyce about my essay corrections,” he lied through his teeth. “I’ll see you at practice, Hyuck!” Renjun scurried out of the cafeteria, and he cringed at the thought of what his friends must be saying about him now. Probably that he was acting strange. Or, if they believed him, that he was a total nerd.

He made his way to the library, the emptiest place in the school during lunchtime. The librarian looked at him suspiciously as he came in. Donghyuck had involved him in too many of his shenanigans for her to trust that he wasn’t up to no good. Her severe stare was emphasized by candy-pink cateye glasses, and her small lips looked nonexistent when she pursed them in disapproval. Renjun thought she might get along well with Pastor Lee.

He moved towards the back of the library, where he knew he’d find the classic literature. He’d never seen anyone in that section, not even the librarians. He traced the spines with his forefinger, pulling out the books with interesting titles or covers. Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein, The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikubu, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Renjun pulled a book titled Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes off the shelf, mainly just because he thought it sounded a lot more exciting than the rest. On the cover there was a man who looked much too dapper to be travelling long distances, and a very tired-looking donkey.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to be interested in travel memoirs from the 1800’s.” Renjun was so startled that he dropped the book, and a cloud of dust rose up around his feet. Jeno was standing at the end of the row of shelves, with his hands in his pockets and his finger nonchalantly picking up a line of dust off the shelf.

“Isn’t that the exact thing a nerd should be into?” He quirked an eyebrow, putting the book back in its place on the shelf, where it would probably remain for the rest of time. Jeno had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

“Listen.” He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have said that, it was rude. I don’t want there to be any awkwardness during practices.”

“Is that your attempt at an apology?” Renjun asked disbelievingly.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Jeno said, a little too forcefully for Renjun to believe it came from a place of genuinity. “Happy now?”

“Would you even take the time to say you’re sorry if you didn’t have to see me after school every day?”

Jeno stayed silent for a moment. Renjun couldn’t tell if he was contemplating his answer or if he was just flat-out ignoring him. “Why are you even back here?”

Renjun scoffed. “Way to change the subject. I’m here because I thought I’d get some peace and quiet, but clearly I was asking too much.”

“Listen, I’m trying to be the nice guy here,” Jeno said placatingly. “Why are you so uptight?”

“I’m not being uptight,” Renjun snapped. “Why are you here anyways? Shouldn’t you be palling around with your jock friends?”

“I was studying at that table.” Jeno pointed behind him to a small wooden table. It was tucked into the dark, back corner of the library, and there was only one chair. There were notebooks, papers, pens, and highlighters spread out across its surface. It reminded Renjun of his dining table at home. “I came to see who disturbed my peace and quiet.”

“You were sitting there for lunch?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Jeno asked defensively.

“Dude…” Renjun took a moment to find the words. “That’s sad.”

“It is not,” Jeno insisted. “I get all my work done during lunch so I don’t have to work too much at home.”

Suddenly, Renjun had a realization. One that would shift his view of the Earth and human life as he knew it. “Jeno… You’re a nerd.”

“What the f*ck, dude!” Jeno exclaimed through gritted teeth, having completely forgotten they were in a library. Renjun just laughed. The whole thing was just too good to be true.

“You hole up in the library during lunchtime like a hermit,” Renjun taunted. “Don’t you have any friends?”

“Of course I have friends,” Jeno spat out. “I’m a star athlete, I have this whole school at my feet. Don’t get co*cky because Coach Albert told you some pretty words about your tennis game.” Jeno turned to leave, gathering up everything he had spread out on the table behind him. “Not to mention you hang out with all those fairy boys from the theatre club--”

“What the hell did you just say about my friends?” Renjun raised his voice, walking over to Jeno in long, purposeful strides. He was seeing red.

“What? Are you going to hit me?”

Renjun could. He could hit Jeno and it would feel really good. But before he could make a decision on the matter, the librarian came storming towards them, her grey bob bouncing with the intensity of her footfalls. Renjun could practically see steam coming from her ears, and her face was turning the color of her crimson lipstick.

“Boys, your behavior is absolutely unacceptable! I am stunned by your lack of respect for the library facilities. If I catch either of you goofing off in here again, I will renounce your borrowing privileges for a month and write a full report to the principal.” She began to leave, but Renjun just had to open his mouth.

“Wow, I’m shaking in my boots,” he mumbled under his breath.

The librarian whipped around. “Which one of you just said that?”

Jeno and Renjun simultaneously pointed at the other.

“Come to my office.” She turned around, smoothing down her skirt in a very prim manner, despite the red-hot rage collecting in the tips of her ears. “You’ll both report to detention before school for one week, starting next Monday. Any further insubordination will result in the extension of this time period. Are we understood?”

Renjun and Jeno immediately began protesting, only to be hushed by a sharp glare from the librarian. As they sat in her office and she filled out their detention slips, Jeno refused to meet his eyes. He could tell he was mad. Renjun felt a great deal of self-satisfaction that he had gotten Jeno in trouble. He hoped he would get a real nasty earful from Pastor Lee.

When they were let go to attend fourth period, Jeno knocked against his shoulder on the way out the door. Renjun smiled to himself, and he practically skipped to chemistry class. Tennis practice might be a nightmare later, but Renjun was too proud of himself to care. He flopped into his normal seat beside Xiaojun, at the very front of the class.

“Hey,” Xiaojun said gently. “You were acting kinda strange at lunch. Are you okay?”

“I feel great.” Renjun grinned cheekily at him and pulled out his notebook and his favorite pen. “I have detention before school for a week.”
“You what?”

---

Renjun stepped into the tennis club, quite unsure of what his second practice with Jeno would look like. Would he keep things professional and teach him as usual? Would he refuse to be associated with him from that day on? Would he have him kicked off the team? Renjun felt his confidence fall into a puddle at his feet as his anxiety began to overwhelm him.

Jeno was already on court one. He was hitting tennis balls against the wall, and he looked angry. He swung with a grunt, and he seemed to put his whole body into it. Renjun wondered if Jeno was imagining his face was the ball. His muscles were all flexed with tension, and he was breathing heavily, as if he was in the midst of the adrenaline-induced haze of a real competition. He hadn’t noticed Renjun was watching him, which was just as well. He didn’t need to give Jeno any more reasons to think he was gay.

Eventually, Jeno hit the ball with such force and at such an angle that it ricocheted off the wall and directly towards Renjun. He was grateful for his superior reflexes, as he was able to duck at the last second to dodge the little yellow-green speck that had been whizzing towards his face. Unfortunately, that also made Jeno’s eyes travel over to where he was standing at the entrance. Renjun awkwardly smiled and waved, not too sure what the social protocol was for that situation. “Do you… want me to grab that?” He pointed behind him, towards where he had heard the ball hollowly thunk against the wall.

“Yes.”

Renjun nodded. This practice wasn’t going to go well, he just knew it. He didn’t need Donghyuck’s intuition to tell him that much.

After only twenty minutes, he was sweating, and the cold air in the tennis club was causing him to chill. Jeno had been brutal, ruthlessly firing balls at him from across the court. He was moving him back and forth like a puppet. He didn’t feel like he was playing a sport, he felt like he was playing fetch. Jeno hit another ball over the net. It was short, only landing a few feet into his court, but Renjun was all the way at the base line. He ran as fast as he could, only to stumble as the ball tauntingly reached its second bounce. He looked up at Jeno with a glare. He looked emotionless. Not angry, smug, or sad*stic. Just neutral.

“I thought you were a star long-distance runner, Renjun?” He asked with fake confusion. “Why does it seem like you can’t run across a tennis court, then?”

“Is this how it’s gonna be for the rest of the season?” Renjun gritted out. “You’re the one who went too far earlier, Jeno. Not me.”

“Renjun you got me in detention.” Jeno no longer looked neutral. “Do you know what this’ll do to me? Do you know how much sh*t you’ve dragged me into?”

“Why are you acting like I don’t have detention too? We both have the exact same punishment.” Renjun raised his voice to match Jeno’s. The usual background noise of tennis playing had long halted. Jaemin, Chenle, Jisung, and a few other nameless varsity players all looked on in fear and slight fascination. “Why is everything always about you, huh?”

Jeno laughed, and it made Renjun’s guts twist up because he sounded so ingenuine it was closer to a scream. “We don’t have the same punishment, Renjun. You have no idea.”

Jaemin waltzed onto their court, one of his cheesy grins plastered on his face. “Hey boys, what seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing, Jaemin,” Jeno said simply. “We were just finishing for the day--”

“We’ve barely practiced!” Renjun interrupted. “We have challenge matches tomorrow!”

“We’re done here, Renjun.” Jeno grabbed his bag from the courtsider bench and walked out the door before Renjun could think of what to yell after him.

Jaemin crossed the court towards Renjun. He placed a hand on his shoulder and looked right into his eyes when he said, “He can be a bit of a dick sometimes. He means well. Do you wanna practice with me today?”

“No.” Renjun shrugged Jaemin’s hand off. He grabbed his bag and his water bottle, walking out the door on the other side of the tennis club, the one leading to the outdoor tennis courts. Donghyuck was working with his doubles partner, casually hitting balls while laughing and smiling. Renjun bitterly wondered if that could’ve been him had he not been so hastily recruited to the varsity team. “Hyuck!” He called out. Donghyuck and his partner stopped, and the ball rolled away onto the adjacent court.

“Renjun?” Donghyuck came jogging over while his partner went to chase after their ball. “What’s going on?”

“Will you come with me to Burger King?” Renjun pleaded.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck said, a look of shock on his face. “We’re in the middle of practice… Challenge matches are tomorrow. What’s wrong?”

“I just really need a friend right now. I need to talk to you.” Renjun looked up at him with his best puppy dog eyes. “Please? I’ll pay for everything, I don’t mind!”

Donghyuck sighed. “Coach Albert!” He yelled over to where the coach was working with the freshmen on serves. “I forgot I have a dentist appointment, I gotta run!” And with that, Donghyuck took Renjun’s hand in his own, and they were off towards the bicycle rack.

---

“He actually called us fairies?” Donghyuck asked incredulously. Renjun just nodded, taking the straw of his Coca-Cola into his mouth and nibbling at the tip. “What an asshole.”

“I know…”

“What are you going to do, Junnie?” Donghyuck asked, waving a fry in the air in distress. “You can’t spend the rest of the spring with that douchebag.”

“I don’t want him to think he got what he wanted,” Renjun said determinedly. “He thinks I’m weak, that I’m going to back out just because he has a few mean tricks.”

“Well aren’t you?”

“No!”

Donghyuck huffed and put the fry that had previously been doing acrobatics into his mouth. “No one would care if you just… requested to train with the junior varsity team.”

“I would care.”

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“So what should I do ?” Renjun asked earnestly. “You’re so unhelpful! How do I fix this mess?”

“I already told you what I think you should do.” Donghyuck wiped his mouth with a napkin and pointed at his soda. “Are you actually going to drink that? Or are you just gonna eat the straw…” Renjun rolled his eyes and slid the drink across the table. He felt too nauseous to be able to stomach the carbonation, anyways.

“I think I need to try to make amends.”

“Renjun, you didn’t really do anything wrong.”

“I lied so he’d get detention.”

“So? He deserved it.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make what I did right,” Renjun reasoned. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“Sometimes I can really tell that you go to church every Sunday.”

“Shut up!” Renjun leaned over the table and punched Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Maybe I should make him a card?” Renjun fretted on his nails now that he had no straw to chew on.

“Or maybe you could just, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“You think that’ll work?” Renjun asked pensively, eyes focused on the fake marble surface of the table.

“Yeah, I do.” Donghyuck said confidently. “I think he might be an asshole about it, but maybe if you kiss up to him a bit he won’t beat you up.”

“You think he’d beat me up?”

“I don’t know, Junnie.” Donghyuck shrugged. “He’s a meathead jock. How the hell am I supposed to know how their brains work?”

Renjun thought back to his encounter with Jeno in the library. How he had been sitting alone at the lonely back corner table with only one chair. There were no windows back there. Renjun wondered how he could even see anything. It perplexed him: a meathead jock spending lunch period in the library doing work so he could be study-free at home? It sounded like a paradox, a fallacy, the contradiction to end all contradictions. Even though Jeno was surly and quiet in a dignified sort of way, Renjun thought there might be something hidden behind the walls he had built up for himself. Or maybe, Renjun was too invested in his own prejudices to see what was clearly in front of him.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck slammed his palm on the table, making all the trash on the table do a little jump. “You went somewhere else again, care to share where?”

“Up your ass,” Renjun said with a smile, grabbing back his Coca-Cola and slurping the remainder of it down. It wasn’t a lot, but it was satisfying to hear Donghyuck’s whines of protest as he did so. Renjun considered telling Donghyuck about Jeno sitting alone in the library, but decided against it. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like it was something he wanted to hang onto for a while. “I’m just wondering how often they mop the floors in here. They’re filthy.”

“I can tell you’re lying, but I won’t push it any further.” Donghyuck shoved a few fries into his mouth. “The floors are disgusting, though,” he admitted.

“Are you mad that I took you out of practice?” Renjun asked timidly, not really sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“I could’ve used the time to prepare for challenge matches, but I’m not mad,” Donghyuck said reassuringly. “I could tell you needed to talk to someone, and a couple hours of practice probably won’t change where I end up on the ladder tomorrow.”

“Still,” Renjun said, “I’m sorry.”

“Dude, you paid for my food.” Donghyuck smiled brightly. “You should go through life crises more often.”

“Bite me.”

February 22nd, 1984 -- 87 days till state championships

When Renjun sat down for homeroom on Wednesday, there was a small scrap of paper lying in the center of his desk. He unfolded it carefully, read it with knitted brows and a fast-beating heart. He looked around the classroom, at the few students who had shown up to school early. There was one boy named Miles. All Renjun knew about him was that he was a terrible group project partner and that he smelled like weed. Across the classroom, there was Suzie Smith, the prim girl that always wore a pink ribbon in her hair. Renjun’s eyes lingered on her for a moment as she doodled hearts in her notebook. He wondered who she was thinking of to be looking so wistful at 8:45 in the morning. Finally, Renjun’s eyes drifted to the figure sitting two chairs ahead of him, at the front of the class. Renjun quickly recognized the mess of black locks to be Jeno’s, and he was certain he knew who had written the note.

I’m sorry, it read.

And Renjun took the slip of paper between his forefinger and his thumb, marching up to the wastebasket by the teacher’s desk, and letting the note flutter down to join the used tissues and wads of chewing gum at the bottom. Jeno watched him, almost totally expressionless. But Renjun could see the way his breath caught and how his eyes became slightly downcast. He walked calmly back to his desk, pulling out his chemistry notebook and tearing out a small piece of paper. He scribbled a single word onto it, and brought it to Jeno’s desk. He laid it right in front of him, messily folded but sincere, and sat back down in his seat.

Truce?

---

Renjun felt impossibly nervous as he rode his bike from school to the tennis club. He had very little knowledge of what to expect from challenge matches. It was the first time that Coach Albert’s assumptions about his abilities would be truly put to the test. Renjun was scared of disappointing him, but he was also scared of disappointing himself. He had gotten much too comfortable with the notion of being some kind of hidden tennis prodigy. He pedaled a little faster. Maybe if he got there early he could practice his serve for a little bit before they got started.

Renjun soon learned that he wasn’t the only one with that idea. In fact, he might’ve been the very last player to arrive that day. Every court was filled with boys running through drills, serving, practicing volleys up at the net (one of the skills Jeno had tried to teach him on Monday, but it was in vain), and stretching. They looked almost as if they were about to play in a real competition. Donghyuck was already on his usual court with his doubles partner, face hard as he hit return after return. Renjun watched as he missed a shot and cursed, shaking his head and looking so disappointed in himself it almost made Renjun worry. But he knew better than anyone how a little healthy self-depreciation could push you past the finish line.

“Renjun!” Coach Albert called out to him. He turned towards the voice, and saw him standing by the entrance to the indoor tennis courts. Renjun jogged over, hoping the coach would grant him some mercy and let him warm up for a few minutes like the rest of the boys.

“Yes, Coach?”

“I’d like you to sit out with the rest of the newbies for this first round of challenge matches,” he said with a smile peeking out from his baseball cap. “I like to give you guys the opportunity to observe before I throw you into the chaos.” He clapped Renjun on the shoulder. “Not that I don’t think you’re ready, but it’s only fair.”

Renjun breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d actually really appreciate that, Coach.”

The smile under the hat only grew larger. “I thought you might, kiddo,” he said gaily. “Are you sure you still fancy that child’s racquet? I have one you can use if you want to trade for challenge matches.”

“I’d rather not, sir.” Renjun looked down at his racquet fondly. “I’m already used to playing with this one.”

Coach Albert chuckled disbelievingly. “Alright, kiddo, whatever you say.” He raised his hands up in defeat. “Just don’t go thinkin’ you can use that as an excuse for your losses.”

“I won’t, sir.”

“I’m about to call everyone over for the first round of matches,” Coach Albert said lowly. “I believe in you, you know that, kiddo?”

Renjun nodded.

“Alright kids!” Coach Albert clapped his hands together and let his voice boom over the noise of the tennis courts. “Listen up to hear your first opponents. These pairings are non-negotiable and I will take no complaints. Are we clear?”

He was met by a chorus of, ‘Yes, Coach Albert.’

“On indoor court one is Jeno versus Jaemin. Indoor court two: David and Jisung. Indoor court three: John versus Chenle. Indoor court four: Jacob versus James,” Coach Albert paused, taking in the way his students stood rigid with anticipation. “Those whose names were just called, you may begin.”

Renjun watched as the varsity team jogged off to the indoor tennis courts, seemingly wanting to get there before they cooled off too much from their warm-ups. Jeno was the last through the door, and Renjun felt something akin to a sense of longing as it shut behind him. He wished he had had the balls to actually talk to him earlier. He felt like they were going into battle with too much unsaid. That may have been intensely overdramatic, but Renjun spent the majority of his time with theatre kids, so no one could really blame him.

“Now, on outdoor court one, we have Donghyuck versus Caleb. Court two will be Charles and Billy. Newbies will have the opportunity to observe a match and be added in during the second round. Understood?” They all simply nodded, feeling very serious.

“Alright. Newbies can go ahead and choose which match they’d like to watch. I’ll be the outdoor court monitor in case anyone needs me.”

And then there was motion. All the players moved towards their courts and Renjun heard a sudden symphony of voices.

“Let’s go inside and watch the varsity team!”

“I’ll spin the racquet, you want up or down?”

“Dude… You’re gonna beat my ass.”

Renjun did not follow the rest of the new players to watch the varsity team. Instead, he plopped down on the courtside bench where he’d have the best view of Donghyuck’s game against Caleb. Renjun knew very little about Caleb, and even less about his skill as a player. Caleb was a sophom*ore and he sometimes sold weed to junior high students. That was about all Renjun knew of him.

They started out the match by warming up for a few minutes. Just hitting balls back and forth. Donghyuck seemed nervous, but it was an observation only a best friend could make. He was laughing at every little misstep he made, every missed shot. He was trying hard to keep the pressure off himself, but Renjun could tell he was being eaten alive by the anxiety. Caleb seemed to care a bit less, possibly because it’s only his sophom*ore year and he still had a while to make it to varsity.

They started at the net, with a handshake. It was very formal, and they smiled at each other like strangers, tight-lipped and business-like. Renjun hoped he wouldn’t have to look at Donghyuck like that if they ever played against each other. Caleb took his racquet and spun it on its head, and once it clattered to the ground, they both checked the base of the racquet, where the handle came to an end. They each nodded their heads as if it was very revealing. Renjun wasn’t sure what the point of that had been. He made a mental note to ask Donghyuck about this strange ritual later.

What came next was a blur. There was a lot of shouting, cursing, and victorious whooping. Renjun watched, fascinated not only by the game, but the way in which the players responded to the loss or the win of a point. Throughout the match, Renjun paid attention to Donghyuck’s serves, hoping to learn by example. They were all pretty slow and fell quite short towards the right side of the service box. However, he had a strong forehand and he could hit volleys really well. Renjun felt slightly jealous of that fact, but he had to remind himself that Donghyuck had been playing since freshman year.

They were to play six games, and the score was already 3-2 before Renjun could blink. Donghyuck was winning. If he won this next game, he would advance for sure, and if not, they would have to move onto a tie-breaker.

This time, Caleb was serving, and Donghyuck seemed determined to win, knowing very well he could finish the game off with a few well-aimed returns.

Caleb served. It was too wide.

He served a second time, and this time it landed perfectly in the center of the service box. Donghyuck shuffled to the left so he could return it with his forehand, but he hit it a little too hard and it ended up flying past the baseline. Donghyuck shook it off, and Renjun felt proud of his best friend's cool head.

The next point went to Donghyuck. And the next. And the next. Renjun watched in awe as Donghyuck fought to 40-15. They had reached the match point, and if Donghyuck could win this last point, victory would be his.

Caleb served, and the ball landed fast in the left side of the service box, forcing Donghyuck to use his backhand. It was weak, and Caleb had to run up towards the net to return. He hit what could’ve been a very powerful shot, a guaranteed win, but his racquet was angled slightly downwards. The ball went straight into the net, and Donghyuck seemed to visibly relax as the tension left his shoulders.

“That was game,” Donghyuck said joyfully, approaching the net with his hand extended. Caleb took it with a smile. A real, genuine one this time.

Renjun wondered if Jeno’s game had already finished or if he was still playing Jaemin. He hoped it was going well, although Jeno had never previously seemed to consider Jaemin to be a real threat.

Donghyuck and Caleb had gone away to tell Coach Albert their scores, and Renjun wondered who he would be playing against now that the first batch of matches was coming to an end. Coach Albert scribbled something on his clipboard and looked up at Renjun.

“You think you’ve got an idea of how this goes, Son?” He shouted over to him. Renjun gave him a simple thumbs up and Coach Albert nodded, turning back to his clipboard and continuing to write. “Alright, I want Donghyuck and Renjun on outdoor court one, Caleb and Billy on two, and Charles will join me with the freshmen on court three.”

Renjun felt his blood freeze. He had been hoping that his first real tennis match would be against someone he could pretend to hate. Renjun couldn’t ever hate Donghyuck.

Donghyuck was walking back to court one, where Renjun was already standing dejectedly at the net. He was excited to play his first match, sure, but he didn’t want to be pitted against his best friend.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, looked as cheerful as ever as he approached. “Why the long face, Junnie?” Donghyuck asked jauntily. “Already accepting that I’m gonna beat your ass?”

Renjun laughed. He felt his nerves begin to dissipate. This was Donghyuck, after all, and a little bit of competition wasn’t going to change anything. “I don’t think you should be so confident,” Renjun shot back playfully. That’s all it was. Play. A game.

“I think I can afford it considering you’re still using a child’s racquet.” Donghyuck moved to the other side of the net and held out his hand for a handshake.

“Size doesn’t matter, Hyuckie.” Renjun took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

“You’re disgusting. Up or down?”

“Down? I think?” Renjun watched as Donghyuck poised his racquet with its head on the ground, just like Caleb had done earlier.

Donghyuck spun the racquet, and to Renjun’s luck, the little arrow emblem on the butt of the racquet was pointing down.

“Okay, do you want to pick who serves first or do you want to pick a side?”

“You can serve first,” Renjun said definitively. He didn’t want to seem as clueless as he felt.

“Alright,” Donghyuck said, obviously chipper. “You better prepare yourself, Huang.”

“I think I’m good,” Renjun called, positioning himself behind the service line. “Do your worst.”

Donghyuck grinned cheekily, turning his body towards Renjun and getting into position to serve. “The score is 0-0, love all.”

Donghyuck served. It fell short and to the right side of the service box. Renjun was expecting this placement, and he ran to return it easily. The return was strong, and ended up landing just at Donghyuck’s feet. A nearly impossible shot to return. Renjun patted himself on the back.

“Nice shot,” Donghyuck called out. He seemed a little rattled. Perhaps he had underestimated the exponential pace of Renjun’s progress in tennis.

“Thanks!”

Renjun returned the next shot down the line, and Donghyuck couldn’t make it to the other side of the court in time. The next serve, Renjun hit an unexpected short shot that Donghyuck barely managed to hit before the second bounce. It was a real shame it still went straight into the net.

“Score is love-forty,” Donghyuck grumbled out. His next serve was weak, Renjun got the impression that Donghyuck had already ceded this game to Renjun, having lost all hope for this first round. Donghyuck had gone into the game so cheerily that he was sure they would have fun no matter what. But Renjun knew Donghyuck had quite the ego, and he might not be so keen on losing to a newbie like him. Donghyuck’s serve was easy enough to return, and Renjun put the ball away with a strong backhand. The first game was finished. Five more to go.

They both played valiantly. Twice during the match, they reached deuce, but Renjun won the winning point both times. The match went quickly, and Renjun could barely feel time passing with how preoccupied his mind and body were. He was zoned in. It was a type of focus he hadn’t experienced since he’d raced last year, where your body seems completely cut off from your mind and you just move. Renjun only used his brain to keep score and to worry about Donghyuck in between games.

When the score reached 5-0, they took a quick water break. Donghyuck wouldn’t look him in the eye, and Renjun couldn't tell if it was because he was angry or embarrassed or both.

“Donghyuck--”

“Renjun, it’s fine,” Donghyuck snapped. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

“No, wait, it’s really okay,” Renjun said, grabbing onto Donghyuck’s arm to stop him from walking away. “I’m not judging you or anything.”

“Thanks,” Donghyuck said curtly, jerking his arm out of his grasp. “Let’s get this match done with. Coach Albert is giving us the evil eye.”

Renjun looked over at Coach Albert, who was peacefully sitting on one of the courtside benches and directing the freshmen boys on where they should be standing in a doubles match. By the time he looked back, Donghyuck had already escaped to his spot behind the service line, positioned to receive from a player that wasn’t there. His face was set in hard lines. He wasn’t having fun anymore, Renjun knew. But they could address hurt feelings later, because this wasn’t personal. It was technique and speed and endurance. It was an environment that Renjun happened to flourish in.

Renjun took the last game forty-love. He couldn’t feel good about it, though. Not when Donghyuck’s eyes seemed to look straight through him when he shook his hand. He mumbled something about going to tell Coach Albert the score, and Renjun just hoped Donghyuck’s ego wasn’t hurt enough for it to scar their friendship.

He didn’t get the chance to think about it for too long, because Coach Albert assigned him to indoor court three, versus Chenle.

February 23rd, 1984 -- 86 days till state championships

Renjun woke up on Thursday morning feeling like he was on top of the world. He had done much better during his challenge matches than he had thought he would, and the victory lingered on his tongue sweetly like a butterscotch candy. He hummed as he got ready for school. The same old Chinese love song his mom had been singing while cleaning on Saturday. It spoke of growing old. Of smile wrinkles and the chronic shakiness of your hands. It was about love collecting like dust, how it multiplied by the years, yet was so delicate it was susceptible to the smallest breath. Renjun was fond of it, as much as he liked to pretend he found his mother’s music dull and tiresome. He wondered if he would ever be able to have that type of love. Something passionate in its own quietness. Renjun hoped so, though he had already come to terms with the fact that he may very well grow to be bitter and alone. With deep frown lines.

He pulled on his favorite button up, a crisp blue shirt that he usually wore out to dinner with his parents or to church. Over it, he slipped on his heather-grey sweater, and let the collar of his blue shirt pop out for the sake of color. He smiled at himself in the mirror. He was wearing one of his pairs of beige slacks that made Donghyuck gag and call him a preppie. Nevertheless, he felt sharp. The sweater might be a little too hot for later in the day when the sun started to burn through the clouds, but Renjun would cross that bridge when he got to it.

He ate an apple for breakfast and kissed his mother on the cheek before stepping out into the morning air. He was early, so the sun was just coming up over the horizon. The clouds framing the rising sun were a vibrant orange that faded out into pink. If Renjun looked straight up, he would see dark like it was still night. He hopped on his bike, securing his helmet under his chin and pedaling his way to school.

His homeroom was especially quiet. Renjun supposed that was to be expected given he was thirty minutes early. But still, the classroom was not empty. Jeno Lee sat in one of the seats at the back of the class. He had a book open, and he was wearing a pair of reading glasses. Renjun rubbed his eyes, wondering if they were still bleary from sleep and he was just seeing things.

“Jeno?” His voice seemed to crack an invisible wall that separated him from Jeno, because he startled so violently that his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose. “Why are you here so early?” Renjun asked, still standing in the doorway.

“I--” Jeno seemed so shocked he could hardly form words. “It’s quiet here in the morning, so I like to get some reading done.”

Renjun crossed the room, foregoing his usual spot and sitting beside Jeno. “What’re you reading?” He asked, setting down his stuff on the floor and beginning to pull out his English literature notes. They had a test that day. Jeno did not respond, so Renjun snatched the book away from him to look at the cover. Ignoring Jeno’s protests, Renjun read aloud, “ What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver.”

“Give that back!” Jeno grabbed it from Renjun’s hands and held it to his chest protectively. “Do you just go around touching things that don’t belong to you, asshole?”

“Why’re you reading that?” Renjun asked. “Is it for English literature?”

“No,” Jeno replied curtly. “Some people read for fun.”

Renjun snorted. “Sure,” he said. “You know, I never pegged you as the romantic type, Jeno.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Jeno said defensively.

“So what’s the book about?”

“It’s about life,” Jeno said. “Ordinary life.”

“And love?” Renjun asked.

“Yes, love is a part of ordinary life,” Jeno scoffed. “It’s about the deterioration of love. How ‘real’ love exists in anger and resentment. The book equates love to eventual pain.”

“So… Not really a romance then, is it?”

“It has way too much death to be a romance, Renjun.”

“I don’t think love is really like that, though,” Renjun said flippantly. Jeno simply raised an eyebrow, surprised Renjun was contesting the ideas of a renowned author. “I think love should grow over time. You know, sort of like dust.” Renjun cringed at his lack of eloquence. Raymond Carver probably had him beat on that front.

“Like dust?” Jeno didn’t seem very convinced. Renjun felt embarrassed.

“It’s a metaphor in an old Chinese song my mom likes.” Renjun blushed. Why was he blushing?

“It sounds old-fashioned and idealistic.” Jeno pushed his glasses up his nose like he was being very smart. It reminded Renjun of his father. “This book is modern. These days, people are a little more realistic. It gives you a more accurate perception of life, and better prepares you for it.”

“That’s not true!” Renjun exclaimed. “You play a sport! You should know that life requires a certain level of faith and hope if you’re going to be resilient.”

“And the reason I need to be resilient is because this is a cruel world,” Jeno quipped.

“The world may be cruel, but humans develop traits to negate it.”

“You think the world would still be cruel without humans?”

“Yes,” Renjun said stubbornly. “Because then there would be no David Bowie, and that’s not a world I would want to live in.”

“You like Bowie?”

“Yeah.” Renjun crossed his arms. “I suppose he’s too queer for you, huh?”

“No, I actually really like his music,” Jeno said, seemingly very offended by Renjun’s assumption.

“Really?” Renjun asked, entirely surprised.

“Believe it or not, I have the capacity to appreciate art.” Jeno tucked the book into his backpack and took his glasses off. Students had begun to trickle into the classroom around them, but they paid no mind.

“What’s your favorite Bowie song, then?” Renjun pried, his curiosity practically eating him alive.

“I like ‘Heroes,’” Jeno said thoughtfully. “But I like a lot of his songs.”

“Isn’t that one a love song?” Renjun pointed out.

“No it isn’t!”

“Have you ever listened to the lyrics? It’s about a pair of lovers.”

“Who listens to music for the lyrics?”

“Normal people,” Renjun retorted.

“And why are you so suddenly so enamoured by the idea of normalcy?” Jeno asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he queried. “Are you saying I’m normally strange?”

“An absolute enigma,” Jeno replied sarcastically.

“Renjun, Jeno!” A third voice suddenly shouted louder than Renjun’s thoughts. It was Mr. Moon, standing at the front of the classroom with his arms crossed and looking very peeved. Somehow, they hadn’t noticed the rest of the class sit down and the chime of the bell. “Would you care to listen to the morning announcements? Or perhaps you’d prefer to go chat in the Principal’s office instead.”

“Sorry, Mr. Moon,” Jeno said apologetically.

Mr. Moon gave them a stern look before going back to talking about cafeteria food and the theme of this year’s spring fling. Renjun sneaked a look at Jeno, and he met eyes with him. Jeno was laughing behind his hand, his eyes and nose scrunching up. Renjun bowed his head and laughed too. Silently, but persistently. There was something giddy about it. He felt like a little kid, sitting in the back of the classroom unable to contain his giggling about nothing at all. Maybe Jeno really wasn’t the meathead jock everyone thought he was.

---

After homeroom, Renjun had English literature. It was his only class with Donghyuck, and he was looking forward to finally being able to speak with him. He had left practice before Renjun and he hadn’t picked up his phone when he called last night. He desperately wanted to hear how the rest of his challenge matches had gone and tell him about the epic game he had played against Chenle.

However, when Renjun got to class, his usual spot was occupied by one of Donghyuck’s theatre friends. They were talking animatedly, and Renjun couldn’t help but feel a stab of hurt. He walked over confidently, sure it was just a misunderstanding.

“Um, excuse me…” Renjun realized he had no idea what this kid’s name was.

“Kyle.”

“Kyle.” Renjun smiled. “This is my seat.” Kyle started to get up and grab his bag, an apology on his tongue, but Donghyuck’s arm shot out and pulled him back down.
“He was here first,” Donghyuck argued. “There are plenty of spots open.”

“Donghyuck?” Renjun was taken aback. Donghyuck had never used that tone with him before. He was confused. He had an awful, chilling type of dread seep in his skin. Donghyuck picked up his conversation with Kyle from where they left off. Renjun stood there awkwardly for a moment, waiting for someone to break and tell him it was all a practical joke. It didn't happen, however. Donghyuck just shot him a sharp look, and Renjun moved to sit in one of the remaining seats in the front row.

For the rest of class, Renjun internally agonized. He could hear Donghyuck and Kyle’s occasional soft laughter, and he wondered if he and Jeno had been that annoying during homeroom. He hoped not. Renjun found himself feeling horribly dejected. He doodled little crooked tennis racquets on the desk to make himself feel better.

He looked forward to tennis practice later. Perhaps he would be able to expel some of his frustration on the court. Or maybe he was looking forward to tennis for an entirely different reason.

---

For the rest of the day, Donghyuck ignored him. At lunch, in the halls, during tennis practice. He treated Renjun like he was invisible. Renjun tried his best to shake it off, but it wasn’t so easy.

Jeno had let him out of practice early that day, telling him he seemed like he was sick. He had even pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, which had made Renjun feel absolutely mortified.

His mother apparently noticed something was wrong, too. When he sat down to dinner that night, it was with an ungraceful flop, and he barely touched his food. His mother looked at him worriedly, her red lips pursed as she wrung the tablecloth in her hands.

“Renjun, did something happen at school today?” She asked softly, clearly not wanting to make him any more upset than he already was. “Are you… being bullied again?”

“Mom,” Renjun whined. “That was in third grade.”

“You’re a sensitive boy, Renjunnie!” she said with a huff. “Boys your age are ruthless. They latch on to the tiniest, most vulnerable being they see and they leech off of its goodness.”

“I’m not being bullied, Momma!” Renjun wondered if that was how his mom really thought of him. A spineless punching bag.

“Is it because your father hasn’t been home much in the last few days?” she asked, clearly thinking she had discovered the culprit. “He’ll be home tomorrow night, and I’m thinking I’ll dig up the old Chinese cookbook,” she said excitedly. “I’ve missed homemade Chinese food. Your father has always insisted that we be diligent in assimilating to American culture… But I miss the tastes of home.”

Renjun felt a sudden swell of compassion for his mother. When he thought about it, she was a lot like him. A fish-out-of-water type. Being forced into a space they didn’t fit in. Renjun’s mother had married Mr. Huang at a very young age, and had given up her home in China in favor of chasing a bright new future with him. She never learned to speak English very well, and even after nearly twenty years she only knew just enough to get her through a grocery store. She still clung onto her Chinese records, and she wrote to her relatives in China frequently, even when she stopped getting replies. Renjun admired her dedication to her culture. Her dedication to being her true self when everything around her told her she needed to change to fit their standards. Renjun identified with her, but he only wished he had the courage to live as genuinely as she did.

“I think that sounds lovely, Momma,” Renjun said with a smile, deciding he would be stronger for her. He straightened up, and held onto his smile, even when it threatened to slip. His mother looked at him fondly and continued to talk about what she might make for dinner. She happily picked up the dishes, even when Renjun protested, and sang her favorite song as she washed up. Renjun stayed in the dining room a little longer, letting himself be soothed by the sound of the rushing water and his mother’s voice.

February 24th, 1984 -- 85 days till state championships

The next day, Renjun didn’t see Donghyuck at school. He was absent from his usual spot in English literature, and he was nowhere to be seen at lunch. His friends talked animatedly about a new album from an artist he had no interest in. As he sat there, he felt like he had been plunged into a pool of water, all the sounds of the cafeteria sounding far away. He wondered where Donghyuck was. This wouldn’t be the first time he had skipped school, but he’d been much more diligent about attendance recently after the principal threatened him with a suspension.

“I’m gonna go try and find Donghyuck,” Renjun said suddenly over the noise of his friends’ chatter. “I have to talk to him about something.”

“Renjun, he's probably not even at school!” Guanheng called out as Renjun turned his back and headed for the cafeteria doors. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing; he just let his legs take him where they wanted to go, like a dog on a leash. Eventually, he found himself outside the library doors. Renjun wasn’t sure if he would be immediately kicked out if he tried to go in, but he decided he might as well give it a shot. He walked inside confidently, breathing in the warm, musky smell of hundreds of old pieces of paper. The librarian was hunched over a thick hard-cover novel, her nose scrunched in concentration and cat-eye glasses gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Renjun quietly moved in between the shelves, weaving in and out of the books like a fox.

He moved to the very back, where the dimness seemed to cloak everything in artificial nighttime. Renjun tiptoed through the classics shelves, letting his hand run against the spines of the books as he went.

Jeno was sitting at the same little table where Renjun had spotted him the other day. Renjun peeked between the books a bit, only briefly second-guessing the saneness of stalking your tennis-teacher-slash-social-nemesis in the dark corner of a library. Renjun didn’t even know what he wanted to say. What was the point of lying to his friends and sneaking off to the library to see Jeno, like he was fraternizing with the enemy?

“Renjun? Is that you?” Jeno’s voice called, and Renjun was so startled he hit his head on the shelf he had been ducking under with a loud thump . “Renjun?”

Jeno got up from his seat and began to walk over, and Renjun wished the ground would just swallow him whole. “Hi, Jeno,” he groaned, gently cradling his head in his hand.

“What were you doing?” Jeno asked. “Were you… spying on me?”

“No!” Renjun scoffed, as if Jeno had just suggested the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Are you seriously that self-centered?”

“So what are you doing back here, then?” Jeno asked smugly. “Just browsing the Jane Austen selection?”

Renjun deflated. Maybe it was time to swallow his pride and tell the truth once. “No, I was…” he struggled to get the words out, “I was actually looking for you.”

Jeno let out an over-exaggerated gasp. “You don’t say. Nerd Renjun Huang enjoys the company of handsome athlete Jeno Lee.”

“I didn’t say anything about enjoying your company,” Renjun protested.

“Then why are you here?”

Renjun fell silent. He wasn’t too sure how to answer that question. “Can I sit with you?” he blurted out, immediately regretting his loud mouth when Jeno gave him a look of utter confusion.

“Are we… friends or something?” Jeno asked.

“No!” Renjun whisper-yelled, much more mindful of the fact that they were in a library after having been given detention once. “Are you forgetting how you insulted my friends?”

“I said sorry.” Jeno shrugged.

“No you didn’t,” Renjun said petulantly. “You wrote it on a piece of paper.”

“And you wrote that you wanted a truce,” Jeno argued. He moved back to his table and sat down where he’d been hunched over his world history textbook. Renjun followed and sat on a patch of the table that wasn’t covered in papers. It was made of an old creaky wood, and Renjun had to shift around for a bit before he could find a position that wouldn’t torture his tailbone.

“Do you actually like hanging around back here?” The back of the library was cold, dusty, and murky. Renjun couldn’t imagine passing up the cafeteria for this every day.

“Yes,” Jeno said curtly. “It’s usually quiet, but lately there’s been some disturbances.” He looked pointedly at Renjun from across the table.

“I think Donghyuck is mad at me because I beat him in our challenge match,” Renjun said suddenly. He gnawed on his bottom lip. Since when did he come to Jeno to talk about his anxieties?

“Wow, you beat Donghyuck?” Jeno seemed impressed, and Renjun was all too happy to have his ego stroked.

“I also beat David and James,” he said excitedly. “But I lost to Chenle and Jisung.”

“That’s expected, they’ve been playing for way longer than you have. Also, Chenle and Jisung practice even more than I do, I think. They have the stamina of toddlers.”

“But that’s not the point,” Renjun backtracked. “Donghyuck is my best friend, but he’s been ignoring me since our match on Wednesday.”

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“Well… Has that ever happened to you before? Like with Jaemin?”

“No, because Jaemin knows that’s the way tennis works,” Jeno said. “Losing is as much a part of a sport as winning, and one isn’t necessarily better than the other.”

“You’re telling me that losing is better than winning, Coach?” Renjun asked cheekily.

“Well in the case of challenge matches, winning isn’t the objective,” Jeno explained patiently. “The objective is to order everyone on the ladder fairly so they’re playing people from other teams that are at a similar skill level.”

“But don’t you still want to be high up on the ladder?”

“Well, yes, but you also don’t want to be in a spot on the ladder that you can’t play in.”

“So why is he mad at me, then?” Renjun asked, feeling more and more desperate by the second, because he felt like he was getting no real answers and lunch period was only so long.

“Probably because he’s bitter that you just started playing tennis and you beat him when he’s been on the team for three seasons already.”

“Oh,” Renjun said thoughtfully. “You think?”

Jeno chuckled. “I have a hunch.”

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Renjun hopped off the table, a goodbye on his tongue, but Jeno grabbed his forearm, and Renjun looked up at him in alarm.

“Jaemin’s having a party at his house tonight at ten o’clock,” he whispered, and Renjun looked around to see if there was anyone around to hear them. There wasn’t. “He told me to pass it on to whoever I wanted.”

“You want me to come?”

“Sure, every party needs a designated driver.”

Renjun jerked his arm away and smacked Jeno’s chest. “I can’t even drive, idiot.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Jeno held his hands up in surrender. “It’s just… I’ll be staying sober tonight and I sorta wanted to have someone to talk to who isn’t totally hammered.” Jeno looked down at his textbook that was still wide open on the table. He fiddled with the corner of the page titled “Mythology in Ancient Egypt” and Renjun wondered if he was feeling a little shy.

“Don’t you have lots of other friends you could ask?” Renjun asked, perplexed by Jeno’s request. “I’m not very fun to talk to.”

“Why do you assume I’m so popular?”

Renjun stopped and thought for a moment. His brain was having a hard time processing the idea that, at this point in time, he might be one of the people closest to Jeno Lee. It was slightly mind-numbing, but through the fog he became aware that he needed to go before he was late to next period. “Can you pick me up?”

“Sure,” Jeno tore off a corner of the page about Pharaohs and gave Renjun a pen. “Write down your address.”

Renjun scribbled his address on the little piece of paper and handed it to Jeno. “See you at ten?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” Jeno breathed. Renjun hurried away before he could see the blush on Jeno’s cheeks.

---

Renjun had concocted the perfect lie to facilitate his escape from the house that night. In the kitchen, his mom had been preparing Yan Du Xian soup, a special dish made by her Shanghainese relatives during the holidays. The smell of pork and ginger lingered throughout all the rooms of the house like a warm ghost, and when Renjun tasted it he felt the embrace of a home he’d never seen with his own eyes. He enjoyed the meal with his parents, then began yawning exaggeratedly towards the end of dinner. When they were finished, he claimed that the comfort food had made him so sleepy he simply had to go to bed early, and that they need not bother coming in to bid him goodnight. When the clock struck ten, Renjun was to flee out his window and into the safety of Jeno’s car. Renjun thought he was very clever, but his plan had one small hitch: Jeno was running late.

He had gotten past the step where he climbed out his window easily, having done it several times before, but when he rounded the corner from the side of his house to the front, there was no car waiting to take him off into the night. So, Renjun had to crouch in the shadows of some shrubbery to ensure his parents wouldn’t glance out the window and see him waiting for his getaway car. He was sure he was getting leaves in his hair, and the knees of his slacks were being dirtied by soil. He glanced down at his watch. It was 10:13. Renjun wondered if Jeno was playing a practical joke on him. Why would someone like Jeno want someone like Renjun to accompany him to a party? Renjun cursed himself and his naïve stupidity. When his watch showed it was 10:20, Renjun’s eyes welled up as he decided he would crawl back through his window and tuck himself into his blankets for the night.

Right as he stood up from his cramped hideout in the bushes, a red Ford Fiesta came to a screeching halt right outside his house. The car was a bit boxy and had square headlamps. It was also very small and modest, but Renjun appreciated the simplicity. It didn’t seem like the kind of car a hotshot athlete would drive. He ran with his body low to the ground, feeling the rare type of giddiness that comes hand-in-hand with doing something you know you aren’t supposed to.

Renjun opened the door and hopped into the passenger’s seat. “Go, quick, before my parents see.” And with that, Renjun and Jeno were off.

The car was silent for a few minutes, neither of them seeming to know what to say. Eventually Jeno piped up, “I’m sorry I’m late. I got held up.”

“That’s okay.” The shot of adrenaline that Renjun had been experiencing earlier had dissipated, and he now felt painfully awkward and regretful of his choice to accompany Jeno. He bit at his nails, and just as he was about to say that he wasn’t feeling well and he ought to go home, Jeno spoke again. “Stop biting your nails. It’s gross.”

“Why were you late?” Renjun asked, mostly just to change the topic of conversation. “I thought you were playing a joke on me.”

“I’m actually not that much of an asshole,” Jeno said matter-of-factly. “But thanks for thinking so highly of me.”

“I was hiding under a bush for almost half an hour.”

Jeno laughed, and Renjun wanted to pinch him for thinking it was funny. “You dumbass, it’s freezing out. Are you cold?” Jeno reached out and felt his hand. It was simple, just a brush of the fingertips against the back of his palm, but Renjun suddenly felt he might burst into flames. “Your hands are like ice. I’ll turn up the heat.”

“Thanks,” Renjun replied in a soft voice. Jeno was sweet? Jeno was sweet and he liked David Bowie and reading. Renjun wasn’t sure if his heart could handle that.

“Jaemin doesn’t live that far away, he lives in the rich part of the neighborhood.” Jeno chuckled and smacked on his gum. Renjun could smell the spearmint from where he was sitting.

“Every part of this neighborhood is rich,” Renjun retorted.

“Not Na family rich,” Jeno insisted.

When they arrived, Renjun understood what Jeno meant. Jaemin’s house was huge. Its massive front doors were accessible only by a gated pathway lined with tall, cone-shaped shrubs. His house was covered with uniform windows and tall, white pillars framed the doors like soldiers. Vines of deep-green ivy wove themselves around the archway over the door. Somewhere nearby, Renjun could hear the light trickling of a fountain. If Renjun thought his home was something of luxury, Jaemin was living like a king.

“See what I mean now?” Jeno laughed at Renjun’s dumbfounded expression. From outside, they could already hear the sounds of loud chatter and music. Renjun wasn’t sure how well he’d handle it sober, but he’d promised Jeno he would keep him company amidst the chaos.

“Yeah,” Renjun breathed, “I do.”

“The inside is even better.” Jeno grabbed Renjun’s wrist, pulling him up the stairs and through the heavy wooden doors. Inside, teenagers grouped together like shimmery tropical fish, bobbing their heads in time to whatever song was playing on Jaemin’s expensive radio. They all had plastic cups in their hands, and the room smelled of cigarettes and conformity. The inside of the house was beautiful, though. All pretty marble surfaces and dark oak furniture. Renjun made Jeno take him to the kitchen, where he poured himself a cup of the Coca-Cola, which was intended to be mixed with rum.

“Does Jaemin really know all these people?” Renjun asked over the music and the chatter. It wasn’t easy; Jeno had to bend down so Renjun’s mouth was level with his ears.

“No, word just gets around fast.” Jeno snatched his cup and took a sip. “People know they’ll get free booze here.”

“So, what should a couple of sober people do at a party full of braindead apes?” Renjun asked.

“Wanna dip our toes in the pool?”

“Of course he has a pool,” Renjun sighed. “Sure, lead the way.”

Jeno grasped his wrist again, which made Renjun flinch slightly. He let himself be dragged through Jaemin’s house, head spinning like a top as he took in the high vaulted ceilings and archways with intricate carvings.

Jeno took them outside into a backyard with a pool and a sprawling garden beyond it. There was one big tree in the back corner of the grass, and it had a little bench swing attached to one of the branches. Renjun would’ve found it endlessly charming if there hadn’t been a couple very aggressively making out on it. Renjun’s co*ke sloshed out of his cup and onto his shoes as Jeno tugged him towards the pool.

“Hey, watch it!” Renjun said exasperatedly.

Jeno turned around and smiled at him, and it completely disarmed any insults balancing on the tip of Renjun’s tongue. His breath hitched in his chest, and he felt a sudden pang in his heart. It felt like fear, but instead of a chill it burned him down to his fingertips like fire. He pulled his wrist away from Jeno’s grip. “Sorry, Jun.”

“Since when are you calling me Jun?” Renjun felt grateful they had reached the pool, because he felt like if he didn’t cool himself down he might melt into the ground like candle wax. He lowered himself onto the pool’s edge, putting a couple feet of distance between himself and Jeno. He took off his sneakers and his socks, tested the water with his toes. “It’s cold.”

“Don’t be such a wimp, just put your feet in.” Jeno laughed and Renjun reached down and splashed him with water. Jeno looked at him in shock. Some of the water had gotten onto his face, little droplets clinging onto his eyelashes and smoothly sliding down the slope of his nose. Most of it had gotten onto his shirt, and Renjun felt he might cry when he saw it was sticking to Jeno’s skin, highlighting the lean muscle he had gained from years of playing sports. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He was about to reach for his soda cup, but Jeno retaliated with a splash aimed directly at his face. Renjun spluttered, having been totally unprepared for any such attacks. Didn’t Jeno know it was rude to do such a thing to someone in emotional turmoil?

“f*ck, I have water up my nose, you idiot.” Renjun reached over to shove Jeno, but he ended up swiping at the air since he couldn’t see through all the chlorine in his eyes. He could hear his laughter, though, and Renjun’s blood boiled with something a lot less pleasant than before.

“You started it!” Jeno held his hands up in mock surrender. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

“For someone who reads so much you sure are a meathead.” Renjun rubbed at his eyes, and Jeno slowly came into focus. He was closer than before; Renjun must’ve scooted closer in his attempts to physically maim him. Renjun picked up his cup and took a sip. He wondered if someone had spiked his drink and gotten him tipsy. That would be a better explanation for his strange behavior than the boy sitting next to him. Jeno just stared at him with a funny smile on his face, and it was making Renjun feel like a freakshow at a carnival. He took his palm and laid it on Jeno’s jaw. It lingered there for only a moment, so short Renjun thought he must be the only one who could feel it. Then, he pushed Jeno’s face away forcefully. Something in his neck cracked, but he didn’t have any room to feel bad at that moment. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I wasn’t looking at you like anything,” Jeno retorted, looking into the water of the pool. It rippled in a breeze Renjun couldn’t feel, playing pretty, dancing shadows across Jeno’s face. It could almost trick Renjun into thinking he was living in a dream. But Jeno’s pinky brushed against his and he knew he was as far deep into reality as he had ever been.

“What are we gonna learn on Monday, Coach?” Renjun asked casually, curling his hand into a fist, severing their physical connection.

“Do we have to talk about tennis?” Jeno groaned. It surprised Renjun. Tennis was where Jeno seemed most in his element, the topic change had meant to placate Jeno and give him something to ramble about for a few minutes.

“No,” Renjun responded. “What do you wanna talk about then?”

“Have you ever smoked before?” Jeno asked, leaning back on his forearms and letting his head tilt back, eyes closed.

“No,” Renjun said like it was obvious. “Aren’t I a proper preppy nerd?”

“I have my doubts,” Jeno said cryptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” Jeno shook his head a little, his messy hair scattering and falling back into place with the effortless coolness of a movie star. “I just think you’re a lot less clean-cut than everyone thinks.”

“Well… I think you’re a lot less of a brainless egoist than everyone thinks,” Renjun said, somewhat under his breath out of embarrassment. Jeno peeked at him a little, from under his eyelashes.

“Thanks, Jun.” He closed his eyes again. “One day I’ll have to teach you how to smoke a cigarette.”

“Why?” Renjun toes were starting to feel cold, so he drew his legs into his chest.

“I think it’d be cute to see you choke on it.”

Renjun stayed silent, not entirely sure how to respond, but his cheeks lit up a glowing red. He felt himself start to say something, he wasn’t sure what. And he would never know because suddenly he was tipping. No, scratch that, he was falling. Forcefully. One moment he could taste the smoky air on his tongue, and the next his head was full of water. It was everywhere, stinging his nose, filling his ears, his lungs through a gasp. Renjun kicked his legs, reached his hands everywhere, feeling for a ledge. He was panicking, nothing on his mind but escape. His head finally broke the surface, and he gasped before falling back under again. He kicked his legs as much as he could, too scared to grasp any rationality. He bobbed in the water like a cork. Every time he surfaced, he could hear a symphony of noise. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was, but then he realized. It was laughter. People were laughing at him. And suddenly, he didn’t feel panicked anymore, he felt a deep sense of shame. His hand hit something solid and rough. He clawed at it until he felt the edge of the pool. He grasped it, pulled himself to the ledge with weak arms. He tried to catch his breath, but he just started coughing. Renjun threw up at the edge of the pool, a disgusting mix of chlorinated water, cola, soup, and bile.

Suddenly, he felt hands on his cheeks, pushing his hair out of his face and tilting his head up. He met eyes with Jeno, who was also soaking wet, but what caught his attention most was the look of fear in his eyes. “Renjun? Are you with me?” He asked, slapping the side of his face lightly. Renjun felt himself slipping.

“I can’t swim,” he whispered, absolute terror in his voice.

“Renjun,” Jeno said softly. “Listen to me. Put your feet down and let go of the ledge.”

“Jeno,” Renjun cried. “I can’t swim.”

“I know, it’s okay,” Jeno said. “Just trust me.”

Renjun listened. He lowered his legs slowly, and his toes brushed against the concrete bottom of the swimming pool. He put his feet flat on the surface, and let go of the edge of the pool. His legs felt shaky.

“Okay,” Jeno said, letting out a relieved sigh. “Walk over to the stairs, okay?”

Renjun nodded, and started walking to the other, shallower side of the pool. Jeno walked along the edge of the pool beside him, murmuring small words of encouragement. When he got out, there was a crowd of people gathered around, watching the episode unfold. Renjun felt so embarrassed, he wanted to die. He wished he had drowned in the 5ft section of that pool. That would’ve been less mortifying. Jeno helped him up the stairs, since his legs felt like they could hardly hold himself up. There was no more laughter. Everyone just stood and stared.

Jeno sat him down on the grass, then turned around to address the masses that had collected to watch the drama. “You can all leave now. Find someone else’s business to stick your noses into.” The chatter picked up as everyone left to find somewhere else to congregate. Renjun put his head between his knees. “Renjun.” Jeno lifted his head and examined his face. “Can you breathe?” Renjun took a couple of deep breaths and nodded.

“I’m such an idiot--”
“Shut up,” Jeno cut him off. “You aren’t an idiot. You were having a natural fight or flight reaction.”

“Did I-- Did I fall?” Renjun asked.

Jeno shook his head. “It was a couple guys from the football team. Thought it would be funny to play a little practical joke on me. You were just collateral damage.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t check to see if I could put my feet down,” Renjun moaned and buried his head between his knees again, unable to look Jeno in the eyes any longer. “I’m so humiliated.”

“You can just tell me if anyone gives you a hard time,” Jeno said. “It’s my fault this happened, so I’ll make sure you don’t get any more sh*t for it at school.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Renjun scoffed. “I’m not made of glass.”

“You’re allowed to be a little vulnerable.” Jeno shrugged and got up from his crouched position in front of Renjun. He held out his hand for him to take. “Come on. Let’s get dried off.”

Renjun nodded and took his hand, wondering why he had been so hesitant in touching Jeno previously. It felt comforting. His hand was cold and wet, but it still made him feel warmer. Maybe that was just because he was desperate for any kind of reassurance after his near-death ordeal. Jeno pulled him up gently, and he caught him when he stumbled a little. Renjun had never felt so emasculated, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care when Jeno’s arm wrapped around him to support him. Who was he turning into? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“The upstairs bathroom should be free,” Jeno said in his ear. They walked through the house, earning some funny looks as they dripped pool water all over the floor of Jaemin’s extremely nice house. Renjun just kept his eyes down at his feet, which were still bare. He hoped no one would steal his sneakers.

“I left my sneakers,” Renjun said to Jeno.

“We’ll get them in a minute.” Jeno guided him up a very luxurious mahogany staircase. “We’ll just grab some towels and go.”

Renjun nodded and shrugged Jeno’s arm off of his shoulders. He could walk by himself now, and he was starting to feel like Jeno might begin to think he was a hopeless weakling. He didn’t want that kind of pity from his tennis coach. Actually, he didn’t want that kind of pity from anyone.

Jeno tried the door handle to one of the many rooms lining the hall at the top of the stairs. It wouldn’t budge. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Jeno pressed his ear against the door and scrunched his nose in concentration as he tried to hear over the music downstairs. It was “Thief of Hearts” by Madonna. He bopped his head a little bit. He’d never tell anyone, but he quite liked Madonna. Jeno pounded on the door again, slightly startling Renjun.

“Hey, I can hear you in there,” he yelled through the wood. “Hurry it up!”

Renjun could hear light shuffling through the door, and what sounded like two giggly voices. He rolled his eyes. He never understood why people found it so appealing to go to parties just to lock yourself up in a room and have sex in a stranger’s house. Maybe it made him a prude, but Renjun just thought it sounded unappealing. At least do it in your car, for heaven’s sake. He heard the telltale click of the lock, and the door swung open.

“Sorry about that,” one gleeful voice said. “He was just… helping me take a piss. You know how it is.”

Renjun’s eyes widened as he recognized the voice, and his heart dropped when he saw who that person was with. It was Donghyuck. He looked great in his beat-up jean jacket and dangly earring. His lips looked especially plump. They were red and shiny, almost like he had put on lip gloss. Renjun always thought he looked so effortlessly cool, admired him and his bold sense of style while he was fitted for his next button-up. But Donghyuck wasn’t who he was so fixated on. It was Mark Lee. Mark Lee with his black hair in such a scruffy mess and his dumb band t-shirt all wrinkly. Resting by the chain of his cross necklace there was a big, purple hickey. It looked like a plum. Renjun’s brain short-circuited for a second, unable to put the necessary pieces together.

Donghyuck. Mark. Bathroom. Messy hair. Shiny lips. Hickies.

“Oh. Hi, Renjun,” Donghyuck said, like he hadn’t noticed him before. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think partying was really your thing.”

“You thought I wouldn’t get invited without you?” Renjun folded his arms over his chest, too angry to be upset that he had caught his best friend making out with the long-time object of his affections.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d have the courage to come without me,” Donghyuck replied immediately.

“I don’t need you to hold my hand and guide me around like a toddler,” Renjun spat, his fury gathering in his stomach and turning into acidic words on the way up his trachea.

Jeno watched the interaction confusedly. Big puppy eyes watching the exchange like it was a tennis match. Mark looked on in silent fear.

“Donghyuck, Renjun,” Mark interjected, “can’t we all talk this out a different time?” He offered good-naturedly.

“f*ck off, Mark.” Renjun shoved both Donghyuck and Mark out of the way and grabbed two towels from the rack in the bathroom. “Let’s go, Jeno. I don’t want anyone to take my shoes.” Renjun took Jeno’s wrist and pulled him away from where Donghyuck and Mark stood shocked in the doorway of the bathroom. As he walked down the stairs, he could feel the weight of everything he just witnessed increase by every step, and by the time he had reached the first floor, he was crying. He covered his face with the soaking sleeve of his sweater. His favorite sweater was wet. Renjun cried a little harder.

“Renjun,” Jeno said, clearly panicking. “Go out to my car and wait inside. I’ll grab our shoes.” Jeno pressed his car key into Renjun’s palm and he nodded. Jeno went in the direction of the pool and Renjun went the opposite direction, past the groups of wasted teenagers, the booming radio, out the front door, down the steps, and down the path to Jeno’s car. He tried to wipe his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, but it was so wet it just made his whole face feel damp. He took the key and tried to unlock the door, but his hand was shaking and he didn’t want to accidentally scratch Jeno’s car, so he waited. He took one of the towels and tried to squeeze some of the water out of his hair with it. His whole body felt heavy, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the water weighing down his clothes or the sense of betrayal.

Jeno came out of the house a moment later with Renjun’s shoes in hand. He walked up to the car and clicked his tongue. “Didn’t I say you could get in the car?” Jeno asked. Renjun felt like he was being chastised by his mother.

“I didn’t want anyone to think I was stealing your car and decide to call the police,” Renjun lied through his teeth. It wasn’t a very good lie, but Jeno just raised an eyebrow and took the key. They laid the towels on the seats before sitting down. Jeno turned on the heat, but didn’t make a move to drive away.

“So… are you going to tell me what happened back there?” Jeno asked, turning to look at him in his seat.

“Why should I?” Renjun snapped. “I know nothing about you, but you know everything about me.” Renjun sighed. He hated feeling vulnerable, and he had experienced more vulnerability that night than he had in his entire life.

“I’ll trade you, then,” Jeno said. “If you tell me what was going on back there, I’ll tell you one of my secrets.”

“A secret?” Renjun perked up at that. He did like hearing about secrets. Admittedly, he was a bit of a gossip. Jeno just nodded, waiting for Renjun to start talking. Renjun weighed the pros and cons. Pro: Jeno would tell him a secret. Con: he did not want to tell his pastor’s son that he thought about boys. Renjun concluded the cons outweighed the pros. “I can’t, Jeno.”

“Well, the offer still stands,” Jeno said, leaning back in his seat with his shoulders drooped in disappointment. “If you ever change your mind.”

Renjun knew he would not change his mind, but he still found it endearing how much Jeno wanted to know what was making him so upset. Or maybe he was just nosy. Regardless, he found Jeno hopelessly charming. “I won’t,” Renjun said, “but you should still tell me something about yourself. All I know is that you like David Bowie and you’re some sort of sports freak.”

“Freak?” Jeno snorted. “I can’t say I’ve ever been called that before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Well, I have a brother and a sister,” Jeno finally said after some thought. “They’re twins. Graduated last year.”

“Yeeun and Doyoung, right?” Renjun asked, remembering what his mother had said at breakfast last Saturday.

“Yeah,” Jeno said. “They’re great. Super talented and always nice to me. Our parents were so sad when they left home last year.”

“Why do you sound like you don’t believe that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You really think they’re great?” Renjun asked. “You sound bitter.”

“I’m… I’m not.” Jeno shook his head resolutely. “They’re a lot to live up to, that’s all. They are great people.”

Renjun looked at him questioningly, not buying that Jeno was telling the full story. But, finally, he let it go and said, “Well, you certainly haven’t given your parents much to be disappointed in either.”

Jeno laughed bitterly at that. He started the car and pulled out of his space on the side of the street. “You should tell that to my dad sometime.”

Renjun stayed silent. He hadn’t expected Jeno to have familial issues. Pastor Lee was one of the most clean-cut people in town. Everyone praised him for his goodness and his dedication to his work. Mrs. Lee was no different. She was the type to wear a different floral dress every day and bake lemon bars for the whole church congregation on Easter. They were as cookie-cutter of a family as they could be.

“Jeno,” Renjun said suddenly after a minute of silence, “I think you’re a good friend.” Renjun leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Jeno looked over at him while he was driving, the slightest glimmer of satisfaction is his eyes.

“So… we’re friends, then?” Jeno asked, sounding hesitant. Renjun hadn’t previously thought football players could be insecure about anything.

“Sure we are.” Renjun smiled at him. “You did save me from drowning earlier. I owe you one.”

“Oh, great, so you’re only my friend because you’re indebted to me,” Jeno huffed. Renjun noticed how Jeno was taking the long way back to his house.

“Shut up and be grateful.” Renjun laughed. He was shivering. He might have just had one of the most traumatizing nights of his life, but here he was laughing with Jeno in the warmth of his car. It felt surreal.

He had loved Mark Lee for years. They had met in freshman year at his first track practice. Renjun had been mousy and still had his ugly braces. Mark was cool. He was the type to hang out with all the juniors and seniors on the team. He didn’t have the same icky awkwardness the rest of the freshmen had. Renjun just envied him at first, but that envy eventually turned into admiration. Renjun soon proved himself to be one of the best runners on the team, even as a freshman. He became somewhat of a track celebrity for breaking records of past graduated seniors. Eventually, he fell into the same cool kid circle as Mark, and they easily became friends. Renjun felt they clicked. Mark used to do little things for him like slipping notes into his locker on meet days and giving him his water when Renjun forgot.

Renjun had been so sure that Mark felt the same way. So sure that he felt comfortable loving him like that. No words exchanged, only actions. But one day, on the last track meet of their junior year, Renjun dragged Mark to a quiet place in the locker room and kissed him, completely overcome by the elation of their first place win. It was silly in retrospect. He had been so enamored, he constructed their whole relationship, filled in the blanks with his own narrative of Mark wanting to keep their love quiet. He had thought it was forbidden, romantic, Shakespearian.

But Mark had shoved him away. Renjun was sent slamming into the locker behind him and fell to the floor in a heap. Mark had asked him if he was crazy. What the f*ck do you think you’re doing? Renjun sat still as stone. He begged Mark to not tell anyone, that he was sorry and he would do anything to keep it quiet, but Mark had cut off his grovelling. He told Renjun to give him some space, and walked out of the locker room while furiously rubbing his lips.

That had been Renjun’s first kiss. It had also been his last.

When Jeno finally dropped him back at his house and he crawled back through his window, Renjun thought of him. He thought of Jeno as he changed into his pajamas, as he tucked himself into bed, as he was falling asleep, and once again in his dreams. And in his dreams, Jeno kissed him back.

Chapter 2: the first match

Chapter Text

February 27th, 1984 -- 82 days till state championships

Renjun hadn’t felt very remorseful about the fact that he’d landed himself in detention. Not when his father had gotten a call from the office and berated him at dinner. Not when he realized he had dragged his newfound friend into detention with him (Jeno did deserve it). Not even when his mother had withheld cinnamon buns from him as punishment.

However, the moment he opened his eyes on Monday an hour earlier than he usually did, he felt deeply regretful. His eyes itched with the desire to sleep, but he knew if he didn’t show up, he would have to report to an extra week of detention. So, Renjun pulled himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, ate a bowl of cereal, and got dressed. He didn’t bother to brush his hair, and his mom wasn’t awake to fussily smooth it down before he escaped out the door, so it stuck up in funny angles, curling around his head like a halo of dark hay.

Renjun wheeled his bicycle around from its normal place at the side of the house, and just as he swung a leg over it to pedal away, a familiar red car pulled up in front of his house. Renjun smiled. He threw his bike down unceremoniously onto the grass and unclipped his helmet. He could see the vague outline of Jeno’s face sitting in the driver’s seat, looking every bit the cool, nonchalant meathead jock he wasn’t.

“Damn, being Lee Jeno’s friend is kinda nice,” Renjun said immediately as he ducked into the car. He settled his backpack by his feet and looked up just in time to see Jeno’s eyeroll.

“I’m just being courteous,” he insisted. “It’s still dark. What if you got hit by a car on your way to school?”

“I do have a bike light.”

“I see. Well, you can feel free to get out and bike to school if that’s what you want.”

“No!” Renjun cleared his throat. “I mean, there’s no need to do that since you’re already here.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jeno said smugly.

“Are you gonna take me home tonight?” Renjun asked. “I don’t want to walk home from tennis practice.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you home,” Jeno assured. “We’ll be together anyways. We always finish practice at the same time.”

“Wow I’m so lucky,” Renjun mused. “I get to start and end my day with the Lee Jeno. Truly, what an honor.”

“You have such a loud mouth.”

“I got it from my mom,” Renjun said. He unzipped his backpack and dug through it for a minute before producing a half-squashed packet of candies. “Do you want some Reece’s Pieces?”

“Why are you eating those first thing in the morning?” Jeno’s face contorted into a look of disgust.

“For energy,” Renjun responded simply, popping a few into his mouth. “We’re getting up so early today, I needed to fuel somehow.”

“Wouldn’t an apple do the trick?”

“You’re no fun.”

Renjun and Jeno arrived at the school and reported to the detention room. There was only one other boy there, someone Renjun had never seen before or cared to talk to. The teacher sat them in rigid chairs far apart from one another, gave them a sheet of paper, and told them each to reflect on the importance of rules in the functioning of their school and greater society. Renjun took his pen and drew a series of spirals across the top of the page. He had a whole week to write some halfhearted essay about the consequences of rule-breaking, so he opted to mindlessly doodle the hour away.

The teacher sat at the front of the room doing a crossword from the newspaper. Renjun drew him on his paper, but with the addition of big googly eyes and horns. He smiled at his little creation, and looked up at Jeno to find his eyes were already on him. Peeking over at the teacher, who was still engrossed in his crossword, Renjun held up the drawing to show Jeno. That was a mistake. Jeno snorted, and the teacher startled at the sound.

“What’s so funny?”

Jeno looked at him with wide eyes. “Nothing, sir.”

The teacher looked over at Renjun, eyes glinting. “How about you show me what’s on that paper?” The teacher came striding over ready to pluck the paper from Renjun’s hands, but in a moment of utter panic, Renjun balled it up and shoved it in his mouth.

Jeno’s laughter was uncontrollable, and the teacher’s rage was inconsolable. They both ended up with gum-scraping duty for the rest of the week. It was supposed to be a punishment, but Renjun figured it was more interesting than writing an essay. He didn’t care one bit about the societal implications of chronic rulebreaking. Maybe Jeno was right. Maybe he was a lot less clean-cut than everyone thought.

---

Renjun had been fretting over what would occur come lunchtime. He wasn’t sure if Donghyuck would be sitting at their usual table with their friends or not. Would he be expected to leave if things were awkward? Did their friends know what had happened between them? Renjun bit at his nails in the last ten minutes of world history. Jeno occasionally gave him concerned looks, but Renjun just returned them with placating smiles. Jeno had already witnessed him breaking down once, and it hadn’t been a walk in the park.

Renjun walked into the cafeteria with the sack lunch his mom packed that morning clutched in his hands. His fingers tightened along the edge as he walked towards his usual table. He held his breath, eyes searching for Donghyuck, but he wasn’t there. It was just Guanheng, Xiaojun, and Yangyang. Guanheng had evidently just thrown a piece of mini pepperoni from his Lunchables at Yangyang, and they all cackled as it slid down his nose.

“Hey, guys,” Renjun said good-naturedly as he sat down. As twisted as it seemed, he was happy Donghyuck wasn’t there. “What’s up?”

“Guanheng is bullying me and Donghyuck is a traitor,” Yangyang whined.

“Is that so?” Renjun asked absentmindedly as he unpacked his lunch. His mom packed him celery again. He hated celery. His face twisted up in disgust as Yangyang continued to talk in the background.

“...and now he’s ditching us for Mark Lee.” That got Renjun’s attention.

“What was that?”

“Donghyuck is best friends with Mark Lee now or something.” Yangyang gestured over to the so-called “cool kid” table, where Renjun spotted Donghyuck sitting next to Mark. He leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and Donghyuck laughed and slapped Mark’s arm playfully, before slowly sliding his hand down his forearm and resting it on his. It seemed innocent enough, but to Renjun’s brain all he saw was Donghyuck easily capturing the heart he had been so sure was his. It hurt, so Renjun looked away, offering a tight-lipped smile to Yangyang.

“He is a traitor, you’re right.” Renjun took a bite of his celery. It was bitter, but it still alleviated the awful taste in his mouth. It was still pretty bad, though, so Renjun retrieved his bag of Reece’s Pieces. He deserved it anyway. Jeno could go suck on a cucumber.

---

After tennis practice, Renjun felt exhausted. Even though they were friends, Jeno didn’t go any easier on Renjun. In fact, he had a hunch it had just emboldened him to push him even harder. Jeno had made him run around the indoor tennis courts four times, which was a piece of cake for someone like Renjun, but he didn’t stop there. He made him drop to the floor and do twenty push-ups. That was a little more out of his depth, but Jeno insisted it was important for him to improve his upper body strength so he could make powerful returns from the baseline. Renjun saw his point, but he’d never admit it. Jeno had to let him go onto his knees for the last ten because his arms couldn’t muster any more energy to lift himself up.

After the “warm-up,” as Jeno had called it, Renjun started on some drills. His least favorite of that particular day was a pseudo-match in which Renjun played an entire set of six games as the server. By the time he was done, his arm felt like Jell-O and he thought his shoulder might fall out of its socket. When he complained about this to Jeno during their water break, he had simply laughed and pointed out how his serve was improving in both accuracy and speed. It was true, Jeno had a talent for coaching, but he was also somewhat ruthless in his methods.

In the car on their way back to Renjun’s house, Jeno looked particularly happy. His hair fell over his eyes a little bit, and he gently blew it out of his eyes as he drove. He still looked handsome as ever, and Renjun wondered how he didn’t look like such a hot mess after playing tennis for as long as they had. Renjun knew his hair was going everywhere, slightly damp from sweat. He smelled bad, too. Jeno was probably regretting letting him ride in his car. Just as Renjun was about to apologize, Jeno said, “You did a really good job today, you know.” Renjun was caught off guard. It wasn’t necessarily rare for Jeno to compliment him on his progress, but never like that. It was always a quick ‘nice shot’ or ‘good serve,’ always accompanied by an awkward pat on the back. This time, Jeno sounded sincere.

“You think?” Renjun asked slightly bashfully.

“I know,” Jeno insisted. “I didn’t learn as quickly as you when I was beginning. You’re sharp, and with the rate you’re improving, I think you’ll be ready for state championships by May.”

“Wow.” Renjun was at a loss. “Are you just saying all that ‘cause you’re my friend now?”

Jeno considered this for a moment, and Renjun punched him in the bicep. “No, I really mean it.”

“Well, thanks I guess,” Renjun said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck to cool it down with cold hands. Winter was still hanging on with everything it had, and Renjun’s tiny running shorts weren’t doing much to keep him warm. Jeno was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Renjun slightly envied him in that moment, Jeno’s legs were cozily tucked away while his were exposed and vulnerable to the chill. He shivered.

“Are you cold?” Jeno asked suddenly.

“A little,” Renjun said. “Why?”

“Do you…” he paused and thought for a moment, like he was evaluating his next words carefully. “Do you wanna take my jacket?”

“Your jacket?”

“Yeah, my letterman is in the back.”

Renjun considered this for a moment. He remembered all the football players that had their girlfriends parade around the school with their varsity jackets around their shoulders. He had always thought it to be a disgusting, alpha-male trait that he had scoffed at many times in the hallways. But still, there was something about the offer that he couldn’t resist. Probably the promise of warmth.

“Okay… If it’s really okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You look freezing.” Jeno grabbed his jacket from the back seat and laid it over Renjun’s lap. “I have three others, you can keep it if you want.”

“It has your name on it, though.”

Jeno shrugged. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want.”

Renjun pulled the jacket close around his legs. It was heavy, and it was very warm. “I won’t wear it at school, don’t worry.”

“I don’t care if you wear it at school,” Jeno said, very deadpan. He was staring out the windshield quite blankly, but his cheeks were slightly ruddy. Renjun hadn’t noticed that before. Maybe tennis practice had had some effect on him, after all.

“I won’t, but thank you. It’s really warm.”

“It’s nothing.” Jeno pulled up in front of Renjun’s house. His bike and helmet still laid discarded on the grass, and Renjun could see his mother bustling around in the kitchen through the window. Jeno looked at him expectantly, probably waiting for him to get the hell out of his car so he could go home too.

“Well, should I expect to see you tomorrow morning?”

“I think you can count on that.”

“Okay, well, thank you,” Renjun said awkwardly. He unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out of the car. He took the letterman jacket and put it on. It was a little big on him, but Renjun liked his clothes to be roomy anyways. He grabbed his backpack, offered Jeno a smile, and let the car door fall shut. He waved as Jeno drove away. He couldn’t be sure if he had been looking at his rearview mirror to see, but Renjun really hoped he had looked back.

February 28th, 1984 -- 81 days till state championships

Renjun had never been on gum-scraping duty before, but he had heard bad things from Donghyuck. As he rode in a silent car with Jeno, he slightly dreaded the upcoming work he would be put to. Maybe he had been too hasty in his hatred of the classic detention essay. However, when they reached the school, the teacher took them to a classroom, threatened to give them an additional day of detention for every piece of gum they missed, and left them alone.

This would definitely be much better than writing an essay.

“God, he’s such a tool,” Jeno said as he picked up a gum-scraper and went to work on the bottom of one of the desks. “He reminds me of my dad.”

Renjun snorted. “You hate your dad that much?”

“Nah, he’s just really… uptight, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” Renjun said, “he is a pastor.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Jeno grunted as he tried to pry off a very stubborn piece of dull pink bubble gum. “But I think he takes it a little beyond God’s will.”

“Is that so?” Renjun was intrigued. He had always hated Pastor Lee, with his creepy hawk-eyed stare and fakery. He knew there was more to him than met the eye. “Care to share what you mean by that?”

“I just mean he hasn’t always been the best father,” Jeno explained, quite preoccupied by the gum-scraping. Renjun took a moment to digest this, but before he could ask anymore questions Jeno kept going. “One time I had gone to play in the sandbox in the park, and I tracked some into the house by accident…” Jeno stopped, and so did the harsh sounds of the gum-scraper. “He was furious. He bruised my ass so much that I couldn’t sit still in church the next morning, and then he smacked me across the face for that, too.”

“Just for a little bit of sand?” Renjun imagined what his own father's reaction to that situation would be. Probably just a tired reprimand and a forced midday shower.

“He’s strict,” Jeno admitted. “Renjun, I don’t want to get more detention, can you please help me out a little?”

“Sorry I’m just-- I’m shocked that he did that to you,” Renjun said, scrambling to pick up the gum-scraper. “Jeno, does he-- does he still?”

Jeno didn’t respond to that, and Renjun felt his chest tighten with dread. He wished he knew what to say, but he didn’t. He tried putting himself in Jeno’s shoes, to imagine what he would want to hear if he were in this situation, but he couldn’t. He didn’t even know where to start. So, he decided to start scraping. He went as fast as he could, to take the brunt of the work so Jeno wouldn’t have to do so much. He knew what it was like to be vulnerable, to sit in the aftermath of your soul-bearing, feeling tender like an open wound.

“I hate going to church,” Renjun admitted finally. “I feel like so much of what people think of me is based on the idea that I’m some virtuous do-gooder that gets joy from going to church every Sunday, but I hate it. I hate your dad, too. He’s always been a creep.”

“Hey, don’t say that about my dad.” Jeno turned around and fixed him with a glare. Renjun gulped.

“I’m sorry, I just thought--”

“Renjun, I’m kidding.” Jeno’s glare transformed into a smile, and Renjun wanted to hurl an old wad of gum at him for scaring him like that. “But why do you hate church so much?”

“All the talk of sin and hellfire.” Renjun aggressively worked at a piece of Juicy Fruit. “I’d never tell anyone this, but sometimes I wonder if we don’t have it all wrong.”

“Why?”

“Why would God create us, then punish us for indulging in the desires he gave us in the first place?” Renjun’s face burned, and he desperately hoped Jeno didn’t notice the strain in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Like, the seven sins will get you into hell, but wasn’t it God who made humankind lustful and greedy? I used to think about it a lot.”

“Not anymore?”

“I figure God has his reasons.” Renjun grimaced as a piece of gum he’d just pried off the underside of a desk landed on his lap. “Not everyone can get into heaven.”

“You have good points,” Jeno said. “My dad would be shocked if he could hear you right now.”

“I bet.” Renjun laughed. “I’m a very good boy at Sunday church.”

“He’s said that before.”

“He’s talked about me?” Renjun almost dropped his gum-scraper.

“Several times, actually,” Jeno said. “He’s talked about how kind you are to your mother and how much you like singing hymns.”

Renjun fell silent at that. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be liked by a man like Pastor Lee. “I do like singing.”

“You should sing something,” Jeno suggested eagerly. “I’ve never met anyone who can sing.”

“I said I like it, Jeno. Not that I’m good at it.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“I’ll get it out of you someday.” They both went back to scraping the gum in silence. When the teacher came back in, he checked the desks and let them go five minutes early. They walked to homeroom together, a little closer than strictly necessary. Their hands brushed as they walked, and Renjun’s fingers itched with desire. He ignored it, like he was supposed to, but he couldn’t help but wonder if that would be enough.

March 3rd, 1984 -- 77 days till state championships

The sun shone bright on a Saturday afternoon, bathing the world outside in yellow light. Renjun watched it from his window, marvelling at the green of the grass, which usually looked so grey with the clouds overhead.

The week had gone by quickly. Waking up early and getting home late every night put him in a sleep-deprived haze that overtook his mental faculties. His days were get up, scrape gum, go to school, spend hours in tennis training, go home, eat, then pass out over a textbook as he tried to finish his work for the day. It was exhausting and hardly sustainable. He had to start spending his lunches with Jeno in the library to stay on top of his work. It also might’ve had to do with the fact that if he hid away in the library, he didn’t have to see Mark and Donghyuck sitting together at their lunch table.

Jeno didn’t seem to be affected. He had some sort of superhero abilities, if you asked Renjun. He always greeted him with a smile in the morning and never appeared weary during their practices. Renjun admired it, but found it strange nonetheless.

Renjun was excited on that particular Saturday because Pastor Lee was hosting a barbeque at his house for the church congregation. Less than a month ago, he would have dreaded such an event, but Jeno had offered to help him sneak away to his room, so he was more overcome with curiosity than anything else. He wore his best slacks and a pale orange polo shirt. The barbeque wasn’t for another hour, but Renjun stood in front of the bathroom mirror fussing over his hair with a comb. His mom knocked at the door, yelling at him to get out so she could do her makeup.

When they had gotten into the car and started on their way to Pastor Lee’s house, Renjun was practically bouncing out of his seat. He was eager to see Jeno, the innocent spark of attraction having turned into something like a crush. It was fine, as long as Renjun just looked and didn’t touch. As long as he never got too invested in his fantasies. Renjun wondered if Jeno was excited to see him too. If he would quickly find him and whisk him away from the grabby hands of the elderly women and take him up to his room. Maybe he’d kiss him for good measure. Renjun let himself cautiously indulge in his imaginations. It was only a sin if he acted on his impulses.

They pulled up in front of the Lee house, which was similar to his own in its own quaintness. The kind of quaintness reserved for rich people who still wanted hominess. It was a nice house with two stories, and Renjun thought he saw a flash of movement from inside one of the windows on the second floor. He wondered if Jeno had any pets. He hoped it was a dog. Renjun loved dogs, but his mother thought they were too dirty.

They walked through the wooden gate that led to the backyard, where the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers filled the air and the sound of chatter got louder and louder. The Lee’s garden wasn’t nearly as big as the Na’s, but the grass was a pretty emerald green and there was a patio space with a few chairs and an umbrella. A few toddlers ran around his legs, playing some sort of game of tag. Renjun looked around, trying to spot Jeno amidst the crowd of old men and women. However, he didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe Jeno was going to wait out the barbeque in his room by himself. Renjun couldn’t say he blamed him.

Suddenly, Pastor Lee was by his side, nearly making Renjun jump out of his skin in surprise. “Hello, my son,” he said lightly. “I’m so happy you’ve joined us here, is your mother coming?”

“Yes, she’s right… here.” Renjun realized his mother was no longer beside him, and had gone off to converse with an elderly man from their congregation who could speak Chinese (probably the only person in town who could speak Chinese apart from their own family). Renjun suddenly felt cornered.

“Well, I’m sure you’re feeling quite awkward being the only one here your age,” he said with a tone of all-knowing understanding. Renjun wanted to punch him for assuming things about him without any basis. He also wanted to punch him because he was right. “My daughter Yeeun is only one year older than you. Let me introduce you.” A girl stepped out from behind Pastor Lee. She was very pretty, with shiny black hair curled up for the occasion. She had sparkling eyes and a glowing smile that made Renjun think of Jeno.

“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Yeeun.” She held out her hand and Renjun took it with a smile.

“So I’ve heard. Renjun Huang, it’s nice to meet you too.”

“Renjun is the boy I told you about,” Pastor Lee said to Yeeun. Renjun felt terribly uncomfortable with his presence. “He comes to church with his mother nearly every Sunday. He’s also a track star, isn’t that right, Renjun?”

“I did do track, yes,” Renjun said, eyes shifting around, trying to spot Jeno somewhere within the mass of people.

“His father works at your university, Yeeun,” Pastor Lee continued, unaware of Renjun’s restlessness. “I believe he teaches Chinese language and culture, isn’t that right, Renjun?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, that’s all very interesting.” Yeeun smiled at him kindly. “You should leave us to talk more… Right, Dad?”

“Yes, I should.” He grinned widely and Renjun despised how pearly and white his teeth looked in the sun. They gleamed at him jauntily, but Renjun knew the things hidden behind that smile. He was the personification of ‘not all that glitters is gold,’ and Renjun hated him for pretending he was something he wasn’t. Perhaps that’s exactly what Renjun was doing, standing at this church function in a polo shirt pretending he wasn’t as deeply flawed as he was, but Renjun knew one thing for sure: Pastor Lee deserved hell much more than he did.

“Sorry about him,” Yeeun said once Pastor Lee had gone to check on the hot dogs. “He’s been wanting me to meet you for a while. I think he planned this whole thing just so we finally would.” Renjun knew exactly what Pastor Lee was going for. Renjun’s family was well off, and with his father’s position in the university he would undoubtedly be college-educated. A good, wealthy, college-educated, Christian boy was likely to be the exact thing Pastor Lee wanted for his daughter. Renjun had to admit, he was slightly flattered.

“Well I’m glad he did.” Renjun smiled at her coyly, unafraid of a bit of flirting. “Although I’m worried Pastor Lee might’ve been too generous in his praises of me.”

“Well, I won’t be able to tell until we get to know each other a little bit.” Yeeun was clearly extending the invitation for something a little more than casual friendship. Any boy would be whooping, punching the air for such a pretty, older girl to have fallen into their lap like this. But Renjun couldn’t feel the same.

“I really need to find someone, I promised I would meet him,” Renjun lied. “I’ll give you my phone number?”

They found a napkin and a pen and Renjun jotted down his digits. If the phone rang, he simply wouldn’t answer. The only person who called him regularly was Donghyuck, anyway. After that, Renjun bid Yeeun adieu and went looking for her younger brother.

Renjun spotted him after a minute. He was standing towards the back of the yard sipping from a plastic cup and chatting with a nice old man named Clark, who ran the soup kitchen in the city on weekdays. Renjun walked up to them both, an excuse to take Jeno away already on the tip of his tongue. But Jeno saw him first. He smiled and held up a finger that told him to wait for a moment, so he did. He was still a little too far away to hear properly, but he thought he heard Clark mention something about the city and vacancy. Renjun wondered if Clark was moving to the city to be closer to his work. It would be a shame; Clark was one of Renjun’s favorite elders from the congregation.

Eventually, Jeno waved goodbye to Clark and walked over to where Renjun was standing awkwardly by a bird fountain. “Sorry about that. How’re you liking the barbeque?”

“I’ve never been a huge fan of social gatherings,” Renjun admitted, “but there’s free food and drink so I can’t complain too much, can I?”

“Do you want the rest of this?” Jeno offered him his cup. “We ran out of co*ke and I know it’s your favorite.”

“No, that’s okay.” Renjun felt warm. “You got it for yourself, you should drink it. Plus, weren’t you the one who was chastising me for my eating habits just the other day?”

“It’s my job as your coach. Also, it isn’t six thirty in the morning right now,” Jeno teased. “Do you wanna get out of here? I’m trying to avoid Mrs. Woodfield before she tries to pinch my cheeks.”

“Please,” Renjun said with a laugh. “I was dying to leave the second I got here.”

Jeno led Renjun through the patio doors into the house. Renjun liked the interior. It wasn’t overly frilly or too simple. There were lots of pictures around. Of Doyoung, Yeeun, and Jeno. There were also a few of Pastor Lee and Mrs. Lee on their wedding day. They looked about the same, which was amusing since Pastor Lee apparently had a bald spot even in his mid-twenties. Renjun blanched when he thought about what Jeno would look like bald. Hopefully that trait wasn’t passed down. They went up the stairs, and the second floor was carpeted in a strange shade of green. It appeared as if they could afford to get the downstairs floor refurbished but not the upstairs. Jeno led him into one of the first rooms at the top of the stairs, and Renjun recognized it as the one he had been looking at through the window of his car.

“Jeno, do you have a dog?” Renjun asked as he looked around his room. It wasn’t decorated very much. He had a bed, a desk, a bookshelf, and little else. There were no posters, no colorful paint, no pictures. Renjun was a little disappointed.

“No, but Bongshik is probably hiding under my bed.”

“Who’s Bongshik?”

“My cat.”

“Ugh,” Renjun groaned. “You’re a cat person?” Maybe Jeno did have some flaws after all.

Jeno scoffed. “You’ve never had a cat, have you?” Renjun shook his head. He hadn’t ever had a dog, either. “That much is clear.”

“I’m convinced that cats are soulless.”

“You’re soulless,” Jeno grumbled childishly, but all memory of their previous conversation flew out the window as Renjun spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

“Jeno, you have a guitar!” Renjun exclaimed excitedly. He got up and grabbed it from its spot in the corner, caressing the neck of it gently. Renjun had always loved guitars, and he loved the sounds they made, too. He’d always wanted to learn how to play, but his mom had insisted he invest his time in piano lessons instead. Renjun was convinced she thought if he learned to play the guitar he’d run off and join a band. “Can you play?”

“Why would I have it if I couldn’t play?”

“I don’t know,” Renjun said flippantly. “Maybe you just want to seem cool.”

“I don’t need to seem cool, Renjun,” Jeno retorted. “I am cool.”

“You should play me something,” Renjun suggested, tracing his thumb against the strings, plucking one of them to listen to its twang.

“Okay, but you have to hand it over first.” Jeno held his hand out to take the guitar, and Renjun gave it to him eagerly. Jeno started playing something. The backing melody to a song he didn’t know. Regardless of whether he knew it, he loved the way Jeno’s fingers gently drew the music from the instrument. His fingers were deft, and they looked as though this was a song he had played many times. Renjun found himself engrossed in the music, and the way Jeno had completely thrown himself into the depths of it. Jeno had his eyes closed, swaying to the ebb and flow of the music. His fingers moved automatically like a dance, and Renjun found himself reminded of when he took ballet classes in elementary school. The elegance, the fluidity, the way it all looked so easy.

“Renjun?” He snapped out of it. Jeno had stopped playing and was looking at him expectantly.

“Can you teach me a little bit?” Renjun pleaded. Jeno laughed and nodded, patting the empty space beside him. Renjun plopped himself beside him on his bed, and Jeno placed the guitar in his lap.

“Do you want to learn a little of what I just played or something easier?”

“Just a little bit of what you did.”

Jeno moved so he sat behind him, so close that Renjun could feel his breath on the shell of his ear. Jeno was talking, positioning his fingers for him to form the chords and helping him strum lightly with his knuckles. Renjun listened as best he could. Tried to focus as he felt the callouses on Jeno’s fingertips and his voice reverberated in his ears. It was too much; Renjun felt like he was drowning in Jaemin’s swimming pool again. Except this time, he wasn’t cold or scared. It was warm and on his own terms, water filling his lungs and gently taking his breath away.

“Wanna try by yourself now?” Jeno asked. Renjun turned his head to the side, where Jeno’s phantom breath had fanned across his neck. He looked into Jeno’s eyes, and at his skin, and the mole underneath his eye. He wanted to reach up to brush his fingers over it, to see if it would rub away like a pen mark. He looked at Jeno’s lips, a little wet still from the cola he’d been drinking. Renjun briefly wondered if he kissed Jeno now, would his tongue taste like soda pop? The breathing had ceased, and Renjun wondered if it was because Jeno was holding his breath, or because time had stopped.

The door opened, and Jeno and Renjun startled and scrambled away from one another. It was Pastor Lee, looking at him from the doorway like guilt personified. “Hello boys, I had a feeling you would be up here.” He smiled tight-lipped, like his face was made of plastic. Renjun shivered. “Renjun’s mother was looking for him, so I thought I’d come up to check.”

“Sorry for the trouble,” Renjun squeaked. “I’ll be on my way, then.” He got up to follow Pastor Lee out the door, but not without sparing a glance at Jeno, who was sitting on his bed with his guitar looking lonely and lifeless to his side. Renjun’s heart felt like it might burst.

On the car ride home, he wondered what would have happened if Pastor Lee hadn’t walked in right then. Would he have kissed Jeno? And if he had, would Jeno have been disgusted? Would he have pushed him away? Would Pastor Lee have walked in at just the wrong moment? Oh, the things that could’ve gone wrong. Renjun lamented over his feelings for the rest of the night and went to bed hungry. He hadn’t had a hot dog at the barbeque.

March 5th, 1984 -- 75 days till state championships

When Renjun arrived at school with Jeno, he wasn’t expecting to be met with such a commotion. Immediately when he walked through the front doors, he had a pair of arms thrown around his neck and a screeching voice in his ear.

“Number five, that’s amazing!” It was Chenle, evident from the high-pitched voice ringing his ears.

“What are you talking about?” Renjun grumbled into his shoulder.

“They posted the ladder on the bulletin board!” Chenle said excitedly. “Come look!”

Renjun followed Chenle to where a small crowd of people were gathered around the bulletin board. Among them he recognized Caleb, Jaemin, and… Donghyuck. He made eye contact with him briefly, trying to muster up something reminiscent of a smile, but Donghyuck sent him a withering glare and stormed away.

Renjun stood on his tippy-toes to see the plain piece of paper hanging up by the class schedule and posters for Spring Fling. It was handwritten, probably by Coach Albert.

Palm Valley High Boys’ Tennis Ladder

Varsity Singles:

1. Jeno Lee
2. Jaemin Na
3. John Wright
4. Jacob Campbell
5. Renjun Huang

Varsity Doubles:

1. Chenle Zhong
2. Jisung Park
3. James Baker
4. David Smith

Junior Varsity:

1. Donghyuck Lee
2. Caleb Brown
3. Joseph Walker
4. Matthew Robinson
5. Billy Freeman
6. Mike Weaver

Renjun couldn’t believe his eyes. He placed number five singles? And in the first challenge ladder? He rubbed his eyes, checked again. Maybe he was looking in the wrong category. But no, there his name was, nestled securely in varsity singles. It must’ve been a mistake, he had been beaten by Chenle, so how could he be above him on the ladder?

“Congratulations,” a voice suddenly spoke from behind him. Renjun startled, almost hitting Jeno’s nose with his head as he whipped around. “Woah, there. Jittery much?”

“How am I fifth in varsity?” Renjun breathed. “I lost against Chenle and Jisung so how?”

Jeno shrugged. “Coach Albert thought you deserved the position. Just feel proud.”

“Wow.” Renjun took a moment to process. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Jeno laughed and put a hand on his back. “Let’s head to homeroom, I bet Mr. Moon has some really important announcements for us.”

They walked to homeroom together, and Jeno didn’t take his hand off Renjun’s back.

---

It was Renjun’s first day of practice as an official varsity player, and honestly, he felt nervous. From that point forward, he would have to prove he was worthy of the spot he had been given, and that wasn’t a task he would take lightly. He came to practice that day with a newfound determination to do well, and to make Coach Albert proud.

However, Renjun’s confidence dwindled when he laid eyes on Jeno practicing on court one. He wasn’t doing anything different than usual, just hitting balls against the wall while he waited for Renjun to arrive. He was wearing track pants and a grey t-shirt. Very simple, nothing extraordinary or something he hadn’t seen before. But after the incident in Jeno’s room last Saturday, Renjun’s feelings had begun to infiltrate his perception. He took a deep breath to get himself together, banishing all thoughts of how firm Jeno’s chest had felt against his back when he was guiding his fingers on the guitar.

“Hey, Renjun!” Jeno called cheerfully. “I have a very special lesson plan for us today.”

Renjun gulped. Was the tennis club hotter than usual? It was usually freezing. “What would that be?”

“We’re playing a match, you and I.” Jeno grinned deviously. “And I’m not going easy on you this time.”

Renjun fumbled with his bag nervously as he set it down on the courtside. “Jeno, I don’t think you should expect much from me.”

“I never underestimate my opponent, Renjun,” Jeno said. “And you should never overestimate them either. If you tell yourself you’re going to lose at the beginning of a match, what do you think will happen?”

“I’ll lose,” Renjun mumbled agreeingly. He knew Jeno was right, but he also knew he would not come out of this match on top. He might not even come out of it at all.

“Come shake hands with me, Huang,” Jeno said almost mockingly. He must be getting a real kick out of Renjun’s suffering. “Then you can spin.”

Renjun did shake hands with him, then he spun his racquet. Jeno called up, so Renjun took down. He spun his racquet, and it clattered to the ground unceremoniously. Renjun checked the butt of the racquet. “The arrow’s down.” Renjun picked up his racquet, and now he had to think. Did he want to serve first, or let the serve go to Jeno. He didn’t really have any strategy, so he let Jeno go first.

Jeno nodded, and their game began. When Jeno said he wasn’t going to go easy on him, he really meant it. The first two games consisted entirely of Jeno beating Renjun point after point after point. Renjun was ready to tell Jeno that this was doing nothing good for his morale, but was deterred when Jeno whispered in his ear as he was giving him the balls after their second match. “Renjun, you’ve given up already. There’s four more games.”

“What’s the point if I know you’re going to win?” Renjun whined. “This is stupid, Jeno.”

“It’s not stupid,” Jeno said frustratedly. “This next game, I want you to focus on winning one point, okay? Just one point.”

Renjun thought about this for a moment, searching Jeno’s eyes to try and figure out what he was trying to teach him. “Okay.”

“Good.” Jeno took the balls from him and got into position to serve. Renjun stood diagonal from him at the service line, racquet poised to receive.

Just one point, Renjun thought to himself. Just one.

Jeno served, and Renjun watched the ball fly into his court. He hit it back, the ball bouncing with a satisfying crack against the strings of his racquet. It was a strong return, but Jeno still easily hit it back, towards the baseline of the court. Renjun ran and returned it again, a weak shot that was an easy volley for Jeno. Except it wasn’t, because the angle just wasn’t quite right, and Jeno’s shot ended up landing in the alley. Renjun couldn’t believe his eyes. He whooped happily for himself at Jeno’s expense, but Jeno didn’t really seem to mind.

“That was out!”

“Okay, Renjun,” he said. “Well done. Now, I want you to win just one more point.”

“Another one?” Renjun asked, already feeling doubtful.

“Yeah. That was easy, right? Just win one more point this game.”

So, Jeno prepared to serve again, and Renjun hit a beautiful down-the-line shot that ended up being just out of Jeno’s reach. The score was thirty-love. He couldn’t believe it. He looked at Jeno with wide eyes. “I must be getting extremely lucky.”

“Maybe,” Jeno conceded. “If you’re so lucky, get one more point.”

“I can try,” Renjun replied, and he was back for another point. Jeno made a killer serve that Renjun couldn’t have returned, so the next point went to him.

Just one more point. That couldn’t be so hard.

Jeno served, Renjun returned. He grimaced as he felt it in his racquet. It wasn’t a very good shot, just a gentle forehand that was arching into Jeno’s court in a slow curve. Jeno had plenty of time to react, and he was already positioned to return the ball before it had even landed. Renjun watched, anxiously awaiting the aggressive return Jeno was sure to make.

The ball landed, bounced. Jeno hit it with a forehand that made a resounding echo throughout the tennis club. Renjun was so screwed, and he watched as the ball came zipping over the net like a yellow comet. But Jeno had underestimated his own strength, and the ball went flying past the baseline, unceremoniously thunking against the wall behind Renjun.

“Out!” Renjun called gleefully. He had one more point. One more point and he would win in a game of tennis against Jeno Lee.

He felt determined. He had a flashback to his first day with Jeno as his tennis instructor. He’d been so convinced he would never be able to beat him. But here he was, less than two weeks later, about to crush him in a game of tennis.

Jeno served, the ball bounced, and Renjun hit a merciless backhand, aiming straight at Jeno’s feet. The ball bounced by Jeno’s shoe, giving him no time to react. Victory was Renjun’s, and he stood still for a moment in shock.

“That was game,” Jeno said breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear. Renjun let his racquet clatter to the floor. He ran all the way across the court, made a beeline for Jeno (who looked quite concerned by the velocity at which Renjun was running towards him), and threw his arms around his neck.

“You’re such a good teacher,” he said sincerely.

“Renjun, your hands are freezing. Please take them off my neck, I beg you.” Renjun did, but he unconsciously grabbed the front of Jeno t-shirt, looking up at him in excitement.

“You have to tell me now,” Renjun demanded. “I beat you in a game. You have to tell me the most important rule in tennis.”

“Okay, but this is top secret information, okay?” Jeno looked very serious, and Renjun couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. “Only people who play tennis are allowed to know of this rule.”

Renjun held out his pinky. “I pinky promise that I won’t tell anyone.” Jeno accepted the pinky promise with his own. He was smiling all the while, his serious expression having melted away.

“Play one point at a time,” Jeno said simply.

“That’s it?” Renjun asked, feeling a little disappointed.

“It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s important, okay?” Jeno said earnestly. Renjun couldn’t help but believe him. “If you play one point at a time, you keep your mind on the winning track, got it?”

Renjun nodded, suddenly entranced by Jeno’s know-how in the world of competition. Sure, Jeno was his age and he was his friend, but he had a level of knowledge that Renjun had learned to respect. He admired him for it. He admired his mental strength. In fact, he admired nearly everything about Jeno.

“But Renjun,” he said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “We still have three games to play before this match is over.”

Renjun nodded, removing his hands from Jeno’s shirt and smoothing down the wrinkles he had left.

One point at a time.

---

When Renjun got home from school, his house was silent. He knew his father probably wouldn’t be home yet, since he worked late in his office most weekdays. However, the house was just too quiet. Usually there would be the sounds of his mother’s singing or the faucet running. There’d be the shuffle of feet, a yawn, the rustling of pages in a book. But it was silent.

“Mom?” Renjun called, feeling more than a little uneasy. “Are you there?”

“I’m in the living room,” she answered. It sounded thin and weak. Renjun felt an immediate pang of fear at the sound.

“Mom, is everything okay?” He asked, sitting beside her on the couch. She looked at him wearily, watery eyes fixed on his and her hand coming up to cup his jaw.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Renjunnie,” she pleaded, on the edge of sobbing. “Tell me.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” Renjun asked calmly, taking her hand off of his face and taking it into his own. “Tell me.” He could feel himself teetering on the edge of tears. It was rare that he saw his mom so upset. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when she’d seemed so beside herself with grief. Her torso collapsed in on itself as she let out a particularly intense sob. Fear gripped Renjun’s heart in a vice grip, squeezing it as his brain thought up all kinds of tragic scenarios, each one worse than the last.

She pointed a shaking finger to the dining room table, where Renjun saw something sitting in the candlelight. He rose from the couch to see what could’ve made his mother so upset, but the moment he laid eyes on it, he was filled with icy dread that ran through his veins like acid. An awful shiver zipped up his spine.

It was a magazine. One Renjun was very familiar with. A p*rn magazine titled Playguy , with all sorts of crude images and phrases displayed colorfully on the cover. Renjun had never been so grateful his mother didn’t understand English, but there were too many visuals to disguise what it truly was. Bulky men posed in their underwear with their muscles flexed, all oiled up and glistening under flashy lights. He’d had it for a long time, he’d almost forgotten it was tucked under his bed, where he kept the stolen hymn book. Renjun bit his lip, feeling the floodgate open as guilt washed over him. Guilt for lying to his mother, his school, Jeno, his congregation, and to the world. Renjun wiped the tears that had fallen and turned around to face his mother, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“Were you looking around in my room?” he asked. Not angry, just regretful.

“I was cleaning. I found it under your bed.” She was sitting up now as she cried, full tears rolled down her cheeks in rivulets and Renjun felt so sorry, felt guilt itching underneath his skin like a parasite. “Renjun, tell me it isn’t true.”

Renjun considered telling the truth, he really did, but he couldn’t be sure of the outcome. He knew his mother would never kick him out to the streets, but she could tell his father, and Renjun was never sure how he would react. He didn’t know if he’d still be able to go to college, to live a normal life. Even though Renjun knew he was a deviant, he had always pictured himself settling down, getting a respectable job and a wife and having children. He was a coward. Renjun lied like it was second nature to him, because maybe it was.

“It’s not mine, it’s Donghyuck’s.” The words spilled out before he could even think about stopping them. “His mother had started snooping through his room, so he asked me to hide it here for a while.”

“I knew that boy was trouble, Renjun.” His mother got up from the couch and wiped his tears with her thumbs. “Burn it, Renjun. Maybe then Donghyuck will find it in hell one day.”

So he did. He threw it into the fire under his mother’s watchful gaze, and hoped she didn’t notice how he did it so slowly, so reverently. The magazine was crass. It wasn’t romantic or artful. It glorified crude, lustful acts that were done without love or care. It was as far from Godly as you could get. He couldn’t say it was his cup of tea, but Kun had given it to him back in his sophom*ore year. He had been his good friend from track, and when he found out Kun was gay and seeing some boy from the city, he was absolutely elated. He talked to Kun about feeling out of place, about awful church services, and cried to him about his fear of Hell. Kun listened to him like an older brother, had given him the magazine to help him better understand his sexuality. He said he didn’t need it anymore anyways. Kun was the crutch he needed to keep living, to give him the strength to keep upholding his lie because he gave Renjun hope that there was light on the other side for love.

Kun had died from AIDS a few months ago, and Renjun hadn’t been able to locate his burial site, because his parents didn’t know where it was. They didn’t care, either.

Kun had helped him. For a brief moment, he had showed Renjun that being a hom*osexual wasn’t something that needed to be swallowed deep down, to be left to fester until you became an old, bitter man suffocating under the weight of your own lies. He had told him about gay sex, about the underground communities in the city, about the gay men who lived their lives peacefully in the shadows of society. Kun had introduced him to his boyfriend, who was short and funny with a sharp tongue to match. They seemed so normal. They held hands by their pinkies and talked of adopting a dog together.

That night, Renjun sobbed into his pillow. He thought of Kun and his boyfriend, who had paid the price for their sins. He thought of Jeno, and how he could never link their pinkies too if he didn’t want to be punished. His mother’s sad eyes bore into him even after she’d closed them for sleep. He thought about his duty as a Christian: to live according to God’s will. And if he failed to do so, his judgement day would reflect his wrongdoings.

God was testing him as he tested all his children, and Renjun was suddenly determined to not fall victim. He calmed his breathing. His tears stopped.

He decided that once Yeeun gave him a call, he would answer.

March 8th, 1984 -- 72 days till state championships

Renjun started biking to and from school again. He told Jeno it was because the days were changing: the sun rising earlier and the air warming faster. That was partially true, but partial truths are still lies in essence. Renjun felt the heavy weight of guilt in his gut, but he had made up his mind. He would stop sinning. For his sake and his family’s. That meant eradicating the temptation in his life. As much as he wanted to cave when Jeno tried to insist that he drive Renjun to school, he did not move. He was a boulder at sea, anchored by God’s will. He thought he had heard some bullsh*t like that in church one Sunday morning.

As he rode his bicycle to school, however, Renjun sorely missed the heat of Jeno’s Ford and the comforting cushiness of the seats. He missed the banter and walking beside someone to homeroom. When Renjun sat down for class, it was far away from where he normally sat with Jeno. It did hurt. It hurt to see Jeno’s confused glances from across the room. Renjun knew Jeno was probably feeling dejected, and he felt remorseful for that. Although, he supposed Jeno was widely celebrated within the Palm Valley social sphere, so he knew he’d be fine without some queer nerd like him.

Maybe that made it worse, though.

Renjun biked quickly to tennis practice that day, not even wasting time to stop in the locker room and change his clothes. He locked his bike up with fumbling fingers, and ran to Coach Albert who was scribbling on his beloved clipboard.
“What are you doing here so early, kiddo?” He asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder in a very fatherly manner.

“I need to talk to you about something, sir.”

“I told you to just call me Albert,” he said with a sigh.

“Yes, I know.” Renjun chewed on his lip. “I can’t work with Jeno anymore, Albert.”

Coach Albert looked surprised at that, taking his cap off so he could look at Renjun properly. “Why is that?”

“We’ve had a falling out, and I don’t think I’ll be able to progress properly if I’m focused on my personal issues with him.”

Coach Albert nodded and put his cap back on. “I’ll ask Jaemin if he’s up for the task, how about that?”

“That would be great, sir.”

“Jeno is much more qualified for the task, but if you really feel your time with him wouldn’t be productive…” Coach Albert trailed off with a shake of his head. “Tennis is an interesting sport, you wanna know why, my boy?”

“Why, sir?”

“Because it’s one of the only sports where players on the same team are pitted against each other so fiercely.” He sighed. “I try to keep all you boys unified, but you all play for yourselves.”

Renjun wasn’t sure what to say, so he just looked down at the pavement and nodded.

“Remember that you’re on the same team, okay?” He patted Renjun’s shoulder once more before walking off in the direction of the group of junior varsity players that had formed on one of the outdoor courts. Before Renjun could leave, Coach Albert turned around again to add one last thought. “Jeno has been telling me nothing but good things. I think he’s taken a liking to you. I don’t know what happened, but I hope you’ll think about fixing it.”

Renjun stood frozen in place, feeling the familiar heat reaching his ears and simmering bile in his stomach. “That’s-- That’s nice to hear.” It really wasn’t nice to hear.

“You should talk to the boy.” Coach Albert turned away, and Renjun could feel tears building in the backs of his eyes.

Renjun skipped practice that day. He hadn’t missed one since he had that fight with Jeno, so he didn’t feel too bad about it. That felt like ages ago. A time when he only knew Jeno as an insensitive jock and Donghyuck as his best friend. Renjun’s life had gotten significantly more complicated since then.

He rode his bike to Burger King, not wanting his family to question why he was home so early from practice. It was strangely empty for dinner hour, and Renjun felt the force of his loneliness all too intensely in the static quiet of the dining area. He sat there for a while, sipping on a cola and watching the shadows on the floor elongate as the sun began to set.

Renjun found that if he left himself to his thoughts, he thought a lot about Jeno. About the time they had spent together over the past weeks. Playing tennis, in the library, at Jaemin’s party, in his room with the guitar. Renjun tried to make these memories feel wrong. He tried to twist his emotions around in his mind. He tried to think about his feelings towards Jeno with repulsion, like how his mother would. Like how God would.

He couldn’t do it. He thought of Jeno and his cold exterior but soft demeanor. He thought of his love of books and how he was so gentle with him after his scare at Jaemin’s party and how he had offered him the rest of his co*ke at the barbeque because he knew it was his favorite. Renjun thought about Jeno and tried so hard to shame himself for feeling the way he did, but how could he when Jeno was so deserving of his adoration?

Renjun bit down on the straw, chewing on it worriedly. Meanwhile, the bell above the door rang with the arrival of more customers, and Renjun was startled from his thoughts. The sun was almost completely below the horizon now, and the Burger King was doused in orange light.

As the door shut, the loud, joyful sounds of laughter filled the once-stagnant air. Renjun instinctively turned around to the source, expecting to see a few rowdy members of the baseball team who were stopping by for a post-practice pick-me-up. Instead, Donghyuck and Mark stood by the door, doubled over in glee. They looked happy, and Renjun couldn’t help but feel the smallest pang of hurt. He’d once vowed he’d never be happy without Donghyuck, when they were eight and hiding in the dark folds of a blanket fort. He’d wanted to stay there forever with him, forever young and never lonely. Donghyuck seemed happy, though. Their hands weren’t linked, because they weren’t that bold, but Renjun could tell they loved each other. Renjun could tell Mark would never dream of pushing Donghyuck away as he had done to him.

Renjun got up, tried to leave quietly before they noticed him, but to no avail.

“Renjun…” Mark said with a hint of surprise. Donghyuck whispered something in Mark’s ear, and he gave Renjun one fleeting glance before pulling Mark over to the registers. Renjun threw his cup in the trash and left, shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket.

Renjun cried as he rode his bicycle home, and the air dried his tears against his cheeks. When he arrived back at his house, his mother regarded him coldly, and there was no food for him on the dining table. He bowed his head and shut himself in his room for the night, eventually crawling into bed with his clothes still on and falling into a restless sleep.

March 11th, 1984 -- 69 days till state championships

It was Sunday morning, and Renjun was getting dressed for church in his usual blue button-up and slacks. His mother hummed from the bathroom, probably pinning up her hair nicely for the weekly occasion. His mother couldn’t speak to most of the congregation, but she made up for it by presenting herself beautifully every week. She always wore her pearls from Japan and the yellow dress Mr. Huang bought from a fancy store in the city for their anniversary. Renjun took a very long look at himself in the mirror. He thought he looked sharp. He looked like the good, capable, pure boy he was supposed to be. For the first time in a while, he felt the part.

Things were still awkward between him and his mom. He wasn’t sure if she totally believed that the magazine was Donghyuck’s, or maybe she just suspected there were pieces of the story she was missing. Renjun couldn’t blame her for thinking those things or for feeling uncomfortable. After all, she would be right not to trust him.

They bid adieu to Mr. Huang, who was poring over one of his novels on the couch, and started on their way to church. Renjun was grateful for how rumbly their car was, because then he didn’t have to endure the complete silence that would’ve befallen them. He sat with his cheek pressed against the window, like how he used to as a child. He watched as the pristine houses passed his window one by one. They all looked the same, but maybe that was just because they were so blurry from the movement of the car.

The church came into view, and Renjun wondered why it looked so much more daunting than usual. When they went inside, he felt all the figures in the stained glass windows staring at him as he walked with his mom to the front row of pews. The Virgin Mary with her blue cloak, Jesus nailed to the cross, a shepherd with a lamb cradled in his arms. Maybe it was because a part of him had been momentarily exposed. A small open wound that was still trying to close up. Going to church was just putting a little bit of salt in it. Just enough for him to feel it; to feel the guilt of knowing his mom had found a gay p*rn magazine under his bed as Jesus looked down on him from the cross hanging at the front of the church, right behind Pastor Lee. It made his stomach flip-flop uncomfortably.

“Good morning,” a voice said suddenly from beside him. Renjun startled and looked towards his left. It was Yeeun, in a purple dress with a navy blue bow. Her hair was curled prettily again, and Renjun could tell she had the slightest bit of makeup on. Her lips glistened with a thick sheen of lip gloss, like they’d been dipped in shimmery pink candle wax. It was only nine o’clock in the morning. Renjun wondered what time she woke to get so dolled up.

“Yeeun!” Renjun gave her an awkward side hug that he immediately regretted. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting for the weekend,” she said casually. She leaned in and whispered in Renjun’s ear, “I was hoping you’d be here today. Father thinks I’m here for the service.” She giggled and Renjun looked at her with wide eyes, surprised by her brazenness. He didn’t know girls could be so forward. She must’ve known she was very pretty, and Renjun didn’t doubt that with any other man she’d have him wrapped around her finger already.

“Do you wanna… walk to the Burger King after this?” Renjun knew he sounded horribly lame, but Yeeun seemed to brighten up regardless.

“Sure! I used to go there all the time with my friends. It’ll be nostalgic,” she said politely. Renjun thought she was being too nice. There were probably plenty of cooler, older guys that Yeeun could date from the city, but here she was at a church with Renjun… the high school boy she’d been set up with by her father. Not to mention he’d just invited her on a first date to Burger King. Renjun wondered if perhaps she had some self esteem issues.

They chatted for a little while longer about classes, which was something they had in common since Renjun was on a fast-tracked learning program, and happened to be covering a lot of the same content as Yeeun. They chatted about their least favorite types of math (Renjun found out Yeeun despised geometry, while he hated trigonometry) until the organ began playing to signal the beginning of service.

It was just like every other Sunday. A few rambling speeches were given by Pastor Lee in relation to the passages he had highlighted from the Bible that week. As always, he attached a moral message to each one that Renjun thought was totally unrepresentative of the actual text. But he could never voice that aloud. A few hymns broke up the monotony, and he strained to hear Yeeun’s voice amidst the sea of others. Her singing was soft, but sweet. Finally, Pastor Lee thanked a few special donors and the collection baskets circulated through the pews. His mother dropped a ten dollar bill inside and Renjun cringed. He passed along the basket to Yeeun without contributing. He needed to pay for their food somehow, and he only had a little pocket money from mowing their neighbors’ lawns.

She didn’t place anything in the basket either, passing it along to kind old Grandma Gertrude, a woman with dementia who, by some miracle of God, seemed to always remember to come to church on Sundays. She placed fifty dollars into the basket and Renjun felt himself grow sick.

The service was over, and the old men and women came around to give each other cheek kisses. “God is with you,” an old man said to him, shaking his hand firmly. If only he knew. He would be spitting on him if he did.

He and Yeeun walked to Burger King, since it wasn’t too far from the church. The Burger King wasn’t too far from anything in town, really. It marked the center spot between the high school, the rich neighborhood, and the poorer houses that lined the riverside. It was sort of unifying in a way. No one disliked visiting the Burger King. Not even pretty, wealthy church girls in purple dresses.

Yeeun didn’t seem to care that it wasn’t strictly time for lunch yet. It was only eleven o’clock, but she still ordered a cheeseburger and a large order of fries. Renjun didn’t have a lot of money, so he just got a co*ke. He could tell Yeeun was a little embarrassed, but insisted he didn’t mind paying for her food and that he just wasn’t hungry. She still promised to make it up to him next time.

Conversation with Yeeun wasn’t difficult. It was light-hearted and far from awkward. Renjun couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely enjoyed just getting to know someone like this. Yeeun was a breath of fresh air. She was well-spoken and honest. She wasn’t secretive and seemed to have a real dedication to the truth. She had ambition, too. She talked about how she was interested in studying politics, because she felt women were underrepresented in their government. Strong women didn’t scare Renjun, so he listened with genuine interest and support.

“So what about you?” She asked, chewing on a french fry. “What are the grand aspirations of Renjun Huang?”

“I’d just like to get a respectable job,” he said. “Like a lawyer or a businessman.” He bit his lip slightly, wondering if he should let his next words loose from his tongue. “But I think my life aspirations extend far beyond my career goals. I’d like to have a family, get married, buy a nice house with a big backyard…”

“You want it all, then.” Yeeun laughed. “Wanting it all is admirable these days.”

“Don’t you want it all, Yeeun?” He asked playfully.

“I don’t know about that,” she responded, “but I do think I’d like it if you’d take me on another date.”

“So this is a date?” Renjun raised a brow questioningly.

“Well, you’d want it to be, right?” Yeeun asked, obviously feeling a little less daring than before. The sparkle in her eye had faded in favor of something more unsure.

“I would love for this to be a date,” Renjun said finally. Yeeun smiled at him bashfully. Maybe he could do it after all. Being with Yeeun seemed sustainable. He enjoyed her presence, and she clearly felt the same, so why not try dating her? Renjun felt more and more confident with his plan by the minute as he listened to Yeeun talk about her roommates and the stray cat that kept coming in through their window. When Renjun walked her home and left her on her doorstep, she raised herself up onto the balls of her feet and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Payback for the meal,” she said sweetly, then skipped through the door and shut it before Renjun could get in another word. His cheek tingled slightly from where her lips had made contact with his skin. He reached up and touched his fingertips to the spot.

As Renjun began walking home, he saw a flash of movement in the window upstairs. Jeno’s bedroom. Renjun shook off the uneasiness he felt. It was probably just Bongshik.

March 12th, 1984 -- 68 days till state championships

“Two matches this week, Renjun!” Jaemin exclaimed jovially when Renjun finally showed up for practice (ten minutes late and looking like death). He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, filled to the brim with anxiety over seeing Jeno at school the next day. Funnily enough, he hadn’t been beaten up for advancing on his sister yet, but it was only a matter of time.

There weren’t many people in the tennis club. Jisung and Chenle were focused in a doubles match against James and David, while Jacob and John ran singles drills with each other on another court. Jeno was on the far side of them, practicing his serve alone on indoor court four. Renjun let his gaze linger for only a moment, his heart aching uncomfortably. It felt a lot like longing, and Renjun snapped his attention back to Jaemin to get rid of it.

“We have matches this week?” Renjun asked. Jeno hadn’t mentioned anything about upcoming matches during their practices, and he wondered how something so important had gone over his head so easily.

“Sure do,” Jaemin said with his signature sparkling smile. “If you had showed up for practice last Friday you would’ve known that.”

“Shut up,” Renjun said grumpily. He regretted skipping practice; it never seemed to go well for him. “What are we doing today, Coach?”

“Well, I’m not exactly used to teaching.” Jaemin grabbed his racquet from his tennis bag and took a few swings at an imaginary ball. Renjun didn’t think he'd ever met a jock so theatrical. He might’ve fit in with the group at his lunch table. “So we’ll just be playing matches, I guess. Isn’t that the best way to practice?”

“It doesn’t really focus on anything in particular,” Renjun pointed out hesitantly.

“Well, I'm the boss here and I say we practice playing matches,” Jaemin said confidently. “Plus, we have our first matches on Wednesday and Friday, so I think it’s more practical.”

“Alright, whatever you say.”

Practicing with Jaemin ended up being way more brutal than he thought it would be. Normally he might’ve been able to pull it together to win a few points here and there. Hell, he had won a game against Jeno, so he should theoretically be able to manage against Jaemin. But he didn’t. He lost point after point until they were on their sixth game and Renjun had only won two. Two points. Both times were simply because Jaemin’s ball had landed out, so Renjun couldn’t even count them as demonstrations of his skill as a player.

He wanted to pretend he didn’t know the root of his poor performance, but it was difficult to ignore. He kept glancing over at court four. He was sure Jeno was trying to distract him. It wasn’t particularly warm, but he had stripped off his sweatshirt in favor of playing shirtless. That wasn’t necessarily uncommon for a boys sports team, Renjun had seen a lot of naked chests in his day, but it was a first for Jeno. Renjun was mesmerized. Jeno was lean with lightly defined muscle. He wasn’t too bulky, but he was clearly strong. The muscles of his right arm flexed slightly whenever he hit the ball, and Renjun could feel his heart leap into his throat.

Suddenly, something hit him right in the side of the head, not too hard, but enough to hurt.

“Ow!” He exclaimed loudly. Jeno looked over at him, and he whipped around to Jaemin before he got caught ogling. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s your serve, dumbass.” Jaemin rolled eyes. “Get your head in the game.”

Renjun nodded, feeling quite embarrassed as he collected the balls and got into position to serve.

He allowed himself one more glance at Jeno. Just something quick, to satiate his sick curiosity for a little while. When he turned his head, Jeno was already looking at him, his gaze intense and stripping. Renjun could almost see a bit of Pastor Lee in that face. But he knew that wasn’t the case, because Jeno was better than that. Jeno wasn’t stripping him down to see the bad, it was to find the good. Renjun darted his eyes away, feeling the guilt again as it burned a hole through his stomach. This time, he didn’t feel guilty for wanting Jeno, he felt guilty for pushing him away. He knew what it felt like to be pushed away.

He took a few deep breaths, quelled the feeling in his stomach, and served.

---

Renjun’s eyes hurt from strain. He’d been studying for a world history test on his bed for hours, his notes spread out across the mattress along with a variety of differently colored pens. He was deeply focused, trying to memorize the names of all the kings and queens of France and their various f*cked up escapades. But even the stories of affairs and incest and murder weren’t enough to keep him engaged. He went through his notecards over and over, his head throbbing as he tried to cram all the information in at once. His mind had been so occupied by trivial things (namely Jeno) that he had forgotten all about his studies.

Just as he was about to move onto the French Revolution to give his brain a break from the incest, his phone rang. Renjun’s hand flew to it instinctually, but he briefly hovered over the receiver in hesitation. It was Yeeun, he knew it. Donghyuck wasn’t calling him anymore, and no one else had his number. Was he ready to talk with Yeeun again? After he had been ogling her shirtless brother at tennis practice earlier? Would he be able to stomach it?

He took a few deep breaths, steeling himself. He had to do this. He repeated a Bible verse in his head: ‘So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.’

He picked up the phone after the fourth ring, and put it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Renjun, it’s Jeno.”

Renjun’s heart practically stopped beating. His mantra disappeared in a swirling of dust. “How did you get my number?” He asked shakily.

“From my sister,” Jeno answered flatly. “How long are you gonna ignore me, huh? You’re training with Jaemin now?”

“Jeno, it isn’t personal--”

“It is personal, Renjun,” Jeno said forcefully, obviously trying and failing to keep his temper in check. He sounded hurt, and Renjun truly felt sorry.

“Jeno, I don’t know what to say.” Renjun felt like he was holding back tears. “I promise it’s not about you. I just-- I need some space, okay?”

“That’s not okay with me.”

“What?”

“I said that I’m not okay with that, Renjun.”

“You aren’t entitled to my friendship,” Renjun said scathingly. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“I know, but I thought you didn’t need to owe me anything to be my friend.”

“Jeno that’s not what I meant.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Go for a drive with me tonight.”

“I can’t do that,” he spluttered. Renjun was shocked by Jeno’s demanding attitude. “I have to study for the world history test.”

“So do I. Let’s study together.”

“It’s eleven o’clock at night.” Renjun kept making excuses, but it wasn’t very difficult since there were a lot of reasons why Jeno was crazy.

“I don’t care,” Jeno said. “Come with me. If you don’t want to be around me anymore I think I at least deserve an explanation.”

Renjun thought for a moment, then nodded defeatedly. “Okay, but I can’t be gone for long.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” Jeno sighed. “I’m leaving now.”

“I still think this idea is absurd--” The dial tone rang flatly in his ear. Renjun slammed the receiver down unceremoniously. Jeno just had to make this even more difficult for him than it already was.

Renjun sighed and got up from his bed. He was already dressed in his sleeping clothes: red and black buffalo check pajama pants and a thin, white nightshirt. He ran into the bathroom to find his comb, deciding his clothing wasn’t a priority. He ran it through his messy hair and swished some water in his mouth. He could already see the glow of Jeno’s headlights through his window, so he slipped on his converse, grabbed the jacket laid over his desk chair, and jumped through his window without tying his laces. He brought his notecards, just in case Jeno was serious about studying.

Jeno looked like he had been getting ready for bed, too. He was wearing sweatpants and a baggy hoodie with the logo of some university sports team printed on the front. He looked a tad bit dishevelled, like he had been tossing and turning in bed for a while. Maybe he had been, but Renjun wouldn’t allow himself to entertain the idea. He hopped into the car like it was second nature, but things with Jeno weren’t supposed to feel like second nature anymore, and Renjun immediately felt ashamed.

Jeno looked at him intently, and Renjun shyly looked back. Jeno had an eyebrow raised at him, but he didn’t know why. He looked awfully smug. It set Renjun’s nerves on edge. “What are you looking at me like that for?” he asked exasperatedly. “Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re wearing my jacket.”

“What?” Renjun looked down and, indeed, he was wearing Jeno’s varsity jacket. “Oh.”

“It looks good on you,” Jeno quipped, before shifting into drive and pulling away from the curb.

“It was an accident,” Renjun mumbled, absolutely mortified. He considered ripping the jacket off and giving it back, but the night was so chilled he worried he might freeze to death without it.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind it,” Jeno assured. “So, where are we going?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who insisted I come on this stupid joyride.” Renjun scoffed and shuffled through his notecards. It gave him something to do with his hands and his brain.

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” Jeno said with a shrug. “I don’t know where we should go, though.”

“Are you going to give me the whole ‘don’t fool around with my sister or I’ll beat your ass’ speech? ‘Cause I’m really not interested.”

“You’re not really interested in my sister.” Jeno had the audacity to laugh, and it made Renjun’s blood boil.

“We went on a date this morning after church,” Renjun argued. “She kissed me on the cheek on your doorstep.”

“I know, I heard all about it,” Jeno said with a strained voice, “but you don’t even know each other.”

“I know her a lot more than I know you,” Renjun snapped. “Yeeun actually cares to be upfront with me.”

“Renjun, I’ve always been upfront with you.” Jeno’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel. “I think it’s you who hasn’t been honest with me .”

“Since when do you care, Jeno?” Renjun seethed. “Why is it so hard for you to just go back to being a holier-than-thou jerkoff and treating me like a queer nerd again?”

“I never thought of you like that.”

“I seem to remember you calling my best friends fairies in the library the day we got detention.” Renjun felt like he was about to burst. “So isn’t that what you think of me? Some quiet, queer, gay little fa*g ?” Renjun was practically spitting. He was furious. He thought of how Jeno had so easily pinned him down. Of how, even when they barely knew each other, he thrust the knife right into the chink in Renjun’s armour. Jeno was a pastor’s son through and through. To believe any differently would just be a pipe dream.

Jeno pulled off to the side of the road. He had headed out towards the countryside, where all you could see for miles were plum orchards and wheat fields. Jeno turned the car off. Since it was a clear night, the stars were out, and they both took a moment from their fighting to look up at them. Renjun felt they deserved the moment of reverence for shining so brightly.

“I’ve never called you any of those things.”

“But you think them, don’t you?” Renjun hadn’t realized it, but he had begun crying. His anger had simmered down and left behind a deep feeling of sadness and shame. He struggled to reconcile with himself that he had fallen for Jeno, because somehow it made it so much harder to look him in the eyes and not see the light of a thousand suns staring back at him.

“No, I don’t,” Jeno said insistently.

“You see how I look at you and you think them,” he said accusingly. Renjun lifted a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes. He felt pathetic. He was weak at the hands of his own humanity. God had breathed no strength into him, no matter how much he’d prayed.

“How do you look at me?”

Renjun just gave him a pained expression and shook his head, holding his face in his hands since his neck felt too burdened by the weight of his head. He thought of Yeeun in her pretty purple dress and her ambition and her smile, but somehow none of it could compare to the man that sat beside him, dishevelled and smelling of sweat. He looked like the antithesis of femininity, and it was one more nail driven into the coffin.

“Renjun, I want to be your friend. I want to help you.”

Ouch.

“If you want to help me, you should leave me the f*ck alone.”

“I get it, Renjun. You think I don’t understand, but I do.”

Renjun remained silent, his head still in his hands.

“You know why my father hates me so much?” Jeno asked. “It’s because when I was a kid, he found me kissing another boy in a coat closet.”

Renjun lifted his face from his hands, and turned his tear-stained cheeks towards Jeno. “What?”

“That’s why my dad despises me so much.” Jeno shrugged. “Why I’ve always tried to prove myself to him. Try to be the best at everything I do, you know?”

“Prove that you’re not a fairy?” Renjun sniffed, but laughed a little at the sad irony of it all. Somehow, he wasn’t shocked. He knew he should’ve been, but Jeno made it all sound so normal. “He still hasn’t forgiven you? You were young, you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I was old enough to know I was supposed to like girls,” Jeno said forlornly. “I just… I didn’t care. I didn’t think about the consequences.”

“Were you-- Were you in love with that boy?” Renjun asked carefully. He didn’t want to pry, but curiosity got the best of him.

“I thought so, yeah.” Jeno leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “You know, I don’t really think I was doing anything wrong, but I can’t help it.”

“Can’t help what?”

“I can’t help but feel guilty.”

“I know what you mean,” Renjun admitted, wiping his tears. The assumptions he’d always had about Jeno were crumbling right before his eyes, and it should feel like the ground was falling from under his feet. But, somehow, it didn’t. Renjun felt solid, and he curled his toes in his sneakers, so wonderfully planted to the floor.

“Do you?” Jeno asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Have you ever gotten caught kissing a boy by your father, who also happens to be a pastor?” Jeno asked grumpily.

Renjun didn’t respond to that. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry for abandoning you.”

“Do you think I’m gay now?” Jeno whispered.

“I don’t think of you any differently,” Renjun said matter-of-factly. “I think you’re a co*cky athlete with a hidden soft side. You’re also a total nerd.”

Jeno smiled and let his head roll to the side to look at Renjun. The car was getting cold since the heat had been left off for a while, and Renjun was grateful for the warmth of Jeno’s jacket. The stars still twinkled overhead, and the world still stretched endlessly in front of them. There was no one except them. There was no Pastor Lee or Mrs. Huang or God. There was no one to dictate what was right and wrong except them.

When Jeno leaned in to capture Renjun’s lips with his own, he didn’t feel guilty. He didn’t feel shameful or immoral or sinful. Renjun couldn’t imagine anything more holy than feeling Jeno’s hand caress the curve of his waist as his lips rested on his. They didn’t move. They just stayed like that for a moment, getting used to the feeling of closeness, something they so desperately craved.

Renjun eventually became impatient, pushing back against Jeno until they were moving against each other. They were slightly off-beat, but they made up for it in eagerness. Renjun had thought kissing Jeno would make his mind run a mile a minute, but his thoughts were strangely subdued. He let Jeno kiss him, drawing in shaky breaths through his nose. He smelled like soap and sweat.

Renjun placed the palms of his hands against Jeno’s chest and pushed him away. Jeno looked back at him dazedly, lips shiny with spit. It made Renjun want to kiss him again.

“Do you want to take that back?” Renjun asked him. “You can take it back, I’ll pretend it never happened.”

Jeno disregarded his question and surged forward again, kissing him square on the mouth. He collided with Renjun’s nose and it hurt a lot, but when he felt Jeno’s tongue against his lips it distracted him from the pain.

“Jeno!” he mumbled against his lips.

“Mm?” Jeno hummed, too preoccupied with slobbering all over Renjun’s mouth.

Renjun broke their kiss again, resting his forehead against Jeno’s. He laughed breathlessly, and Jeno joined him. He couldn’t believe what was happening; it seemed like a dream. Jeno felt like a dream.

“You’re a worse kisser than I thought you’d be,” Renjun said teasingly. Jeno glared at him and flicked his forehead.

“I thought it was hot,” he said defensively.

Renjun brought his arms around Jeno’s neck. “If I didn’t know any better, Jeno Lee, I’d think you were gay.”

“That’s really funny,” Jeno said humorlessly. Renjun kissed his nose, then the mole under his eye, and then his lips. Jeno was smiling so wide he was practically kissing his teeth, but he found it too endearing to care.

Renjun felt cold, so he decided to be bold and unbuckle his seatbelt. Jeno gasped slightly when he climbed over the console to settle in his lap. He kissed Jeno a little overzealously. He was pent up with a lot of teenage frustration, so he couldn’t really be blamed for his lack of grace. Renjun could feel the firm muscle of his torso against his stomach, and he scratched his fingernails down Jeno’s bicep as he licked his teeth. It was dirty, sloppy, tinged with teenage desperation. He felt himself getting hot. Renjun pushed against Jeno a little too hard, and he breathlessly whined into his mouth, his hips bucking up into him slightly.

Renjun keened at the tiniest bit of friction, and he chased after Jeno’s touch, pushing their hips together as he felt his blood rush hot under his skin. They parted for a moment, and Renjun noticed the windows of the car had begun to fog up. He stared at Jeno’s face, flushed and with a strange look in his eyes. Jeno reached up and cupped his jaw, stroking his thumb against Renjun’s cheekbone. It was far too loving, too tender, so Renjun clashed their mouths together once more.

He felt like he was floating in the middle of the ocean, and he clung to Jeno like he was his life preserver. He fisted his sweater in his hands, trying to pull him even closer. He didn’t need the warmth anymore, the car had suddenly become unbearably hot, but he still fumbled to release Jeno’s seatbelt. Once he did, Jeno wrapped his arms loosely around Renjun’s waist. He kissed a line down to Renjun’s collarbones and then back up again, slowly moving his hands downward until Renjun could feel his fingertips breaching the waistband of his pajama pants.

It was a little too much, a bit too risqué for Renjun’s liking, so he pulled away. But when he did, his back hit the steering wheel and made the horn honk loudly. Subsequently, Renjun startled so violently that he hit his head against the roof of the car.

“Ow, f*ck,” he groaned and fell forward onto Jeno’s chest, rubbing the top of his head. He could feel Jeno rumbling with laughter under his cheek. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry.” Jeno ran his hands up and down his back in soothing motions. Renjun felt like he might melt.

“Jeno, you know this is a one-time thing, right?” Renjun asked softly. “I’m trying to overcome my sins. I’m dating Yeeun, I’ve been praying, I distanced myself from you--”

“Renjun, you can’t do this with me and then tell me you’re straight,” Jeno said, pushing Renjun away from him.

“That’s not what I said. I’m not telling you I don’t want this, Jeno.” Renjun cupped Jeno’s face in his hands and stroked his cheekbones with his thumbs. “I just can’t be with you like this again.”

“What do you mean? Why-- Why now, then?”

“I’m getting high one last time,” Renjun joked, trying to keep things light since he felt they were taking a dark turn.

“Please don’t date my sister,” Jeno pleaded. “We can move to the city after we graduate! No one has to know.”

“Jeno I’ve barely known you for a month,” Renjun scoffed, getting off his lap and flopping back into the passenger seat. “I’m not going to ride off into the sunset with you.”

“But it’s so rare,” Jeno insisted. “It’s so rare for people like us.”

“People like us?” Renjun put his seatbelt back on. “I’m not like anything, Jeno. I’m a Christian, and I know I have my flaws, but I’m working on improving.”

“Can’t you just let it go?”

“Let it go?”

“Yes.” Jeno leaned over and kissed his lips once. “Just let it go. Let yourself be happy.”

“I can’t.” Renjun’s voice broke. “I really wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Why, because you’re a coward?”

“No, because there’s no point in it, Jeno.” Renjun laughed. “I’m going to settle down eventually. I’m not a delinquent.”

“A delinquent?”

“It’s wrong,” Renjun said softly. “We both know it.”

“So this is why you’ve been avoiding me?” Jeno started the car up again, his jaw set as he looked out the windshield. “Because you’re afraid of your feelings for me?”

“They’re not really feelings, Jeno.” Renjun was lying, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth because it would only cause more pain for the both of them. “They’re desires, and they’re sinful. Everyone is tested by God at some point in their lives. This is my chance to prove that I can overcome and follow his path.”

“Bullsh*t,” Jeno said under his breath as he pulled a u-turn to take Renjun home.

“What did you just say?”

“I said that’s bullsh*t, Renjun,” Jeno said loudly, angrily. “Who’s feeding you all that garbage, huh? Certainly not God.”

“I learned it from your father,” Renjun said petulantly.

“And he isn’t exactly the epitome of Godliness, is he?”

“He has a wife and kids,” Renjun argued. “Maybe he hasn’t been the most forgiving, but he spreads God’s word and he’ll get into heaven.”

“So you think we’re more morally deviant for loving than he is for beating his family?”

“I don’t love you,” Renjun bit back.

The car remained silent for a while. It had begun to rain outside and raindrops pitter-pattered against the windows, running down the surface in little streams woven within each other. Renjun felt guilty again, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he was coming down from the thrilling high of being intimate with Jeno, or if he felt terrible for turning him down. As certain as he tried to sound in Jeno’s ears, his heart was more conflicted than it had ever been. He tried to put his hand on Jeno’s where it rested on the gear shift, but he quickly shook him off.

Jeno stared straight ahead, not sparing a single glance towards Renjun. He knew he was probably furious. He probably felt betrayed and mournful that something so within his reach turned out to be impossible. Renjun tried to stay grounded in his moral center. He had had a lapse in judgement, because Jeno’s lips and sweet words had been too alluring to turn away, but he needed to find himself once again.

“I feel the guilt too, you know,” Jeno said suddenly as he pulled up in front of Renjun’s house. “But I know it’s just because that’s how they want me to feel. They like the control.”

“Control is important,” Renjun replied seamlessly. “If we weren’t controlled, what kind of society would we live in?”

“One where people feel freer to be themselves.”

“That sounds dangerous.” Renjun looked over at Jeno, who was turned to look outside his window. He didn’t like seeing Jeno like this, but he also didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Being hom*osexual, being himself, was against everything he had been taught since he was a small boy, and he refused to undo all the progress he had made in living for those ideals. “Jeno, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. Maybe, in a different world, this would be okay and we could be together, but this is not that world.”

“We live in fear no matter what, Renjun,” Jeno said coldly, his face still turned out the window. “No matter what you say, marrying my sister could never reverse the fact that you’ll think about kissing me until the day you die.”

Renjun was shocked by Jeno’s words. By the cruel truth of them. It didn’t feel like the Jeno he knew, really. “You can’t shame me into wanting to be with you. I already feel enough shame at the hands of your father.”

“You let your guilt consume you.” Jeno turned his face towards Renjun, and his eyes were brimming with tears. “You let it consume you so much that you have no space left for love.”

“I have lots of love in my heart, Jeno.” Renjun opened the door of the car. “Just because it isn’t for you doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” He ducked out of the car and slammed the door behind him, belatedly praying his parents hadn’t woken up from the commotion. Jeno drove away, and Renjun watched as the little red Ford curved out of his line of sight.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of the jacket. He should’ve given it back to Jeno, but he hadn’t thought of it. He crept back to the side of the house, where his window remained open, and slipped through the gap. His room was freezing, and he was tired. He collapsed onto his bed, touching his lips with his fingertips. They tingled strangely. That was the first time anyone had truly kissed him. He fell asleep in his clothes, surrounded by the felt varsity jacket and the faint smell of soap.

March 14th, 1984 -- 66 days till state championships

It was gameday, and with the combined forces of pregame nervousness and his situation with Jeno, Renjun’s nerves were frayed. He tried to focus on the equation his math teacher was drawing out on the chalkboard, but his mind kept drifting to Jeno, then tennis, and then Jeno again. It was immensely frustrating, especially since they had a test coming up on Friday that was worth a good chunk of their grade for the quarter.

“Mr. Huang, are you feeling alright?” Renjun nearly jumped out of his skin as he realized his math teacher was bent over his desk, looking at him with concern.

“Yes, sir,” Renjun said quickly, straightening up in his seat. “I just have a slight headache is all.”

“Do you need to go to the nurse’s to lie down?” he asked. Renjun wondered how awful he looked to warrant this concern.

“No, Mr. Whipple, I’m fine. I was up late studying.” Renjun managed a strained smile, and the teacher nodded before moving back to the front of the class and continuing his lecture.

Renjun waited out the rest of the period anxiously, tapping his pencil against his notebook as he watched the red second hand tick its way slowly around the surface of the clock. Their match started at five o’clock. They were going against some rich private school from the valley, and Renjun wasn’t thrilled with the prospect. Rich kids meant their parents could afford to send them to practices at young ages. He had already prepared himself for the likelihood of a devastating loss. He even practiced the smile he would don when he went to shake the winner’s hand. He was going for something dignified, like a player that has experienced too many wins to feel daunted by a single loss.

However, Renjun wasn’t sure he was going to fool anyone with his child’s racquet and subpar form.

The bell rang, and Renjun booked it as fast as he could towards the gym lockers. They had gotten their uniforms the previous day, just in time for their first match. It was simple: just a pair of red and white shorts and a t-shirt with their school logo, but it was enough for Renjun to feel like he was a part of a team.

He rode his bike down to the courts with gusto, eager to get in some practice before the clock struck five. But when he arrived at the courts, there was already a shiny yellow school bus parked in front of the tennis club. Renjun stared at it wide-eyed and checked his watch. The other team was forty-five minutes early, and they were taking up the outdoor courts to get their own practice time in.

“Renjun!” He heard a familiar voice call out. It was Coach Albert, wearing an identical team shirt. It strained to hold in his potbelly. “The boys are practicing inside.”

“Why is the other team here already?” Renjun asked, observing as the other team practiced hitting together. Their movements were all sharp and strong, their shots transforming the ball into a small blurry speck bouncing back and forth across the court.

“They’re entitled time to practice before the match starts.” Coach Albert paused to spit in the grass. “It’s only fair that if we have time, they do too.”

Renjun nodded and waved goodbye to Coach Albert as he left. He gripped the straps of his backpack as he entered the indoor tennis courts. The commotion was more than Renjun had ever seen. There were up to three players on one side of each court, all serving and returning to a partner across the way. It seemed like chaos, and Renjun felt his senses quickly becoming overwhelmed.

“Renjun, come join our court!” Jaemin yelled from the other side of the building. Renjun ran over, close to the wall and only narrowly dodging some wayward serves as he went. He found a free spot on the court, across from lonely Jisung Park who didn’t have a partner. They hit some balls peacefully for a while, Renjun settling himself into his gameday mindset and letting all his distracting thoughts drain away. Nothing quite made Renjun feel grounded in the moment like some good competition.

Jeno was across from Jaemin, which made focusing difficult since he always seemed to be in his periphery. Jeno looked cute in thel uniform. He found the baggy t-shirt and short shorts strangely endearing. Almost dorky.

“Renjun!” Jisung’s voice shook him out of his daze. “Are you going to return this serve or do you want me to hit you in the nose instead?”

“I’ll return,” Renjun said bashfully, immeasurably embarrassed by the strange look he received from Jeno. He seemed to have a talent for drawing his attention when he didn’t want it.

Renjun focused back into the movements of the game. His arm already ached from the intense practicing he’d done the day before with Jaemin. They hit back and forth for a while, the time moving much quicker than he expected. Every second of practice time counted before they would be across from their opponent on the court. Just as he was checking his watch to see how much time they had left, Coach Albert opened the door of the tennis club and announced with his booming voice, “We’re linin’ up outside, boys! Get a move on!”

They all followed their coach like a herd of sheep out the door and into the blazing sun. Renjun prayed he’d be assigned to an indoor court, where he didn’t have to worry about the harsh sunlight and the heat.

Coach Albert lined them up facing the other team, who wore their own uniform. They were Adidas brand, from their fancy collared polos down to their shoes. Renjun had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. The pretentiousness of their opponents practically radiated off of them in waves. They already looked so smug with their frills and ruffles. Renjun destested them, which was good since he wouldn’t feel a tinge of regret when they beat their asses into the ground.

They were lined up by position on the ladder, so Renjun was squished between Jacob and Chenle. Everyone seemed to be trying to look steely and intimidating, so Renjun schooled his expression into something similar. The coaches laid out some rules: the shot is in if it touches the line, keep three balls on you when you serve, always maintain civility, etc. Then, they started calling out the names.

The other coach went first. “Jake Miller, please step forward.” The boy at the head of the line, the big tuna, stepped forward confidently. The other team clapped for him, twice and very concisely. The boy smiled, his tan skin gleaming under the sun and his beachy blonde hair floating breezily from underneath his visor.

Next, Coach Albert spoke. “Jeno Lee, please step forward.” Jeno took one big step out of the line. He looked almost mousy in comparison to the private school boy, shorter and more lean. He still looked devastatingly handsome, though. He wore no cheesy grin when their team clapped twice in unison, just a light upturn of the lips as his opponent sized him up. The blond boy clearly seemed secure. Renjun was sure none of the boys on this team were very worried about who would take home the win that day. Renjun silently cheered Jeno on as he shook the hand of his opponent. He deserved the win.

More names were called out in the same ritualistic fashion, and Renjun had spaced out while looking at a butterfly perched on the post of one of the outdoor nets. “Renjun Huang, please step forward.” Renjun startled, his heart freezing in his chest as he started blankly at Coach Albert. Chenle pushed him so he stumbled out of the line, right in front of his opponent. His cheeks burned as a few of the players snickered at him. He wasn’t doing a good job of making himself look like a capable player. He shook the hand of the boy whose name he didn’t hear, and stepped back into the line.

When they had gone through all the varsity players (junior varsity evidently did not get to take part in this very stiff and very awkward formality) they were assigned their courts and sent off to play.

Renjun and his opponent were assigned to outdoor court one, the outcome he should’ve expected but dreaded nonetheless. He had never had to play a match in the blinding sun before, and he wasn’t keen on trying it now. He sighed a little as he made his way over to the court, trying his best to stay optimistic. His opponent seemed to be in great spirits as he exchanged words with the blond kid who was playing against Jeno. They were laughing and slapping each other’s shoulders. Renjun’s hand gripped his racquet a little tighter.

Suddenly, Renjun felt a tentative tap on his shoulder. He turned around, expecting to see Coach Albert ready to give him encouragement, but it was Jeno. He was looking at him expectantly, and Renjun wasn’t sure what to say. He considered apologizing for what had happened a few days prior, but Jeno spoke before he could find the words.

“I’m playing inside, so I don’t need it,” Jeno said quietly, looking at something above Renjun’s shoulder. He looked down, and saw that Jeno was holding his visor out for him to take. “The sun’s really brutal today, and I don’t want you to hurt your eyes.” Renjun nodded and took it gratefully.

“Thank you, Jeno.” He turned around and jogged over to court one. His opponent was already waiting for him with his racquet in position to spin, dark eyes trained on him like a predator with its prey. Renjun smiled back fakely, slipping Jeno’s visor onto his head as he ran. Renjun already knew he’d won.

---

Renjun waited ages for the matches to be finished. They’d only know who would take home the final victory when all the games were played and scores recorded. His match had been one of the first to finish. He’d won easily against such an egotistical moron. The boy had let his emotions get the best of him, and right when he started to lose, Renjun could see him start to kick himself. How he muttered things under his breath and his face twisted into an unpleasant look of focus. He had begun to tear himself apart, and Renjun just tugged at the weakened seams. He won their first set 6-2 and the second 6-0. Easy peasy.

After he’d reported their scores to the coaches, he sat behind the fence, watching as the varsity doubles matches ensued. Most of them had gone into a third set, the fight formidable as they valiantly beat back the forceful shots and practiced strategies of the private school boys. Renjun sat with an ice-cold Capri Sun as he watched Chenle and Jisung fight tooth and nail against a pair of extremely resilient doubles players.

Renjun felt somebody sit down beside him on the concrete. It was Jeno, looking very sweaty and very content with an orange Gatorade raised to his lips.

“Hey,” Renjun said awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what the social protocol was for making casual conversation with the captain of your tennis team who was also the boy you turned down because you have too many religious hangups to be in a hom*osexual relationship. “How’d your match go?”

“I won,” Jeno said, clearly trying not to sound too smug. Renjun could tell he was pretty happy with himself regardless.

“I’m not surprised,” Renjun replied with a laugh, taking a sip of his Capri Sun. “I won, too.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I am.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to underestimate yourself?” Jeno nudged him with his shoulder. Renjun looked back to Chenle and Jisung’s match and sighed. He wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to pull through.

“They’ll make it,” Jeno said, seemingly having read Renjun’s mind. That made him feel a little uneasy. Renjun didn’t need Jeno listening in on his thoughts. They’d reveal some very embarrassing and very private things regarding his feelings about Jeno’s muscles. And his personality, of course.

“Those private school kids are good.” Renjun chewed on his straw nervously. “They seem a little frazzled.”

Jeno laughed at his nerves. His hair was messily ruffled every which way, the breeze carrying little curls of hair up and then down again like a roller coaster. The sun was shining directly on Jeno’s face, and Renjun thought he looked like an angel. He realized belatedly that Jeno had moved his lips and said something to him.

“What?” He blurted out ungracefully.

“I said these private school kids aren’t actually that great.” Jeno tilted his head back and gulped down the rest of his Gatorade. “They just want you to think they are so you psych yourself into losing.”

“Hmm,” Renjun hummed. Chenle and Jisung were in the lead in their third set 5-4. If they could pull through with this next game they could take the match. Renjun and Jeno sat peacefully watching as the match unfolded. The sun beat down on their skin and Renjun felt its tingle in his fingertips. A line of ants marched along carrying crumbs and other bits and bobs for their queen. Renjun felt the heat make his head heavy. He didn’t think twice about letting it slowly fall onto Jeno’s shoulder as they sat on the hot concrete. Jeno looked down at him in surprise, but didn’t try to move him. On the contrary, Jeno found himself smiling as Renjun nodded off on his shoulder and Chenle and Jisung hollered their victory.

Renjun eventually woke up and softly apologized for falling asleep, hurrying away with a sanguine color on his cheeks.

Palm Valley took the win against Silverleaf Private School on that hot spring day, but that had little to do with their team captain’s victorious smile.

March 18th, 1984 -- 62 days till state championships

Renjun was wholly expecting to see Yeeun at church again the next week. In preparation, he had brought a wallet stuffed full of pocket money he earned doing chores around the house, just in case she wanted to go out again. He had meticulously combed his hair and made sure to wear something other than his usual getup. He even convinced his mom to leave for church ten minutes earlier than usual so he’d have more time to talk to her before the service.

However, when they arrived, there was no Yeeun in sight. Instead, talking to his father at the pulpit, was Jeno dressed in his Sunday best. He looked strikingly handsome in slacks and a white button-up. Even if it was simple, Renjun realized he’d only seen him in casualwear and exercise clothes. It was refreshing, but something about it made him feel uneasy; Jeno looked the part of a pastor’s son.

“Renjun!” Pastor Lee exclaimed joyfully when he and his mother sat down in their usual front-row pew.

“Good morning, Pastor Lee,” Renjun said kindly. It actually was a good morning. The sun had stuck and was making the afternoons strangely hot for mid-March, but the morning time was pleasantly warm and light.

“I heard you really hit it off with Yeeun last week,” he said suggestively. Renjun wondered if he knew that he had taken her to Burger King. “She wouldn’t stop gushing over you for the rest of her visit.”

“Could Yeeun not make it this week?” Renjun questioned, genuinely mournful for her absence. She was a good conversationalist and it made his mother happy that they got along so well. Evidently it made Pastor Lee very happy as well.

“The week before spring break is always busy for university students.” Pastor Lee shook his head. “Maybe you should tell your father to go a little easier on them. One might think they’re machines and not God’s children.” Renjun heard Jeno snort at that, and Pastor Lee gave him a deadly look.

“I agree.” Renjun held in his own laughter. Jeno’s giggles were contagious.

“Renjun, I have to take these old hymn books up to the loft,” Jeno cut in. “Would you mind helping me? It’s a lot to carry and there’s still a few minutes before the service.”

Renjun felt slightly uneasy, unsure if Jeno really needed his help or if this was an attempt to get him alone. Avoiding Jeno was a feat, and Renjun didn’t want to lose all his progress by falling into Jeno’s trap. On the other hand, there were three boxes and they seemed heavy. Not to mention he was trying to get on Pastor Lee’s good side while he pursued Yeeun.

“Of course.”

Jeno took two boxes while Renjun heaved the third. He led Renjun up a narrow set of stairs that spiraled up and up and up. Renjun had never been to this part of the church before, even though he’d been attending for the greater portion of his life. The stairs moaned under their weight, like they had gotten too comfortable with not being stepped on for so many years. Finally, they reached a circular room that smelled of old paper and dust. Jeno dropped the boxes onto the floor with a thud and a huff. Renjun followed his lead and set his box down next to the others.

“Is that all?” Renjun asked, already escaping to the stairs. Jeno grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Renjun took a sharp breath as he was forced to come face-to-face with Jeno. Rays of sunlight came through the rafters and made the particles of dust floating around them look like agitated stars. Jeno’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes swooping and brushing the tops of his cheeks. He sneezed.

“Sorry, it’s really dusty up here,” he said with his perfect eye smile.

“What do you want?” Renjun asked blankly, fairly desperate to get out of this situation since he could feel his resolve crumbling by the second.

Jeno let go of his wrist in favor of holding his hand. “I could feel your pulse. It’s going a little fast, don’t you think?” Jeno whispered. Renjun was agonizing. They were in a church, and no matter how quietly Jeno professed his love for him, God would still know of a sin occurring under his roof.

“Jeno, I think I made it very clear what kind of relationship I would like to have with you,” Renjun stated calmly, as if rehearsed. “I can’t reciprocate your feelings.”
“You’re just scared, Renjun,” Jeno persisted. “I know you don’t really believe any of that bullsh*t about sin and virtue. You’re just scared and I want to know why.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe I’m just trying to be better?” Renjun said nervously, ripping his hand away from Jeno’s. “Maybe I’m just trying to be a good Christian and overcome my sin.”

“I don’t believe you.” The organ played downstairs and it sounded more like a death march than anything.

“All you have is my word, Jeno,” Renjun whispered and turned to leave. Again, Jeno held onto him. “The service is starting. Let me go.”

“No, not until you acknowledge that you have feelings for me, too.”

“I can’t do that,” Renjun grunted out angrily, trying to escape Jeno’s hold.

“Let me prove it to you,” Jeno said suddenly, and Renjun stopped struggling for a moment.

“Prove what?”

“Just let me prove to you that it’s worth it.” Jeno brought him close, so close their chests were almost touching.

“What do you mean?” Renjun cursed how breathless he sounded.

“All that talk about eternal damnation and hellfire.” Jeno chewed his lip nervously. “Even if it’s true, what if it’s worth it?”

Renjun contemplated that. Jeno was right, he was scared. Scared of the judgement they might face and of having to live in secrecy for the rest of his life. It seemed so much easier to pretend. Living a loveless life was better than living an ingenuine one, wasn’t it?

“Do you think I’m worth it?” Renjun asked finally.

“You might be.” Jeno took his hands again, and Renjun couldn’t help but love the rush he felt when Jeno did things like that.

“You have until Spring Fling,” Renjun said decisively, pulling himself away from Jeno and starting down the stairs.

“Renjun, that’s in less than a month!”

“So you can’t do it?” Renjun challenged.

“No, I can,” he said, sounding slightly doubtful.

“Okay.” Renjun nodded concisely. “I’m going to join the rest of the congregation now. Would you like to sit with me?”

They spent the rest of that Sunday morning in the front pew of the church, with their knees brushing as Pastor Lee preached before them. Renjun couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation in the church tower. He loved the thrill. He loved the feeling of having a boy chase after him, so desperate to prove himself. He thought about how he used to trail Mark like a dumb, devoted puppy. He just couldn’t help but love the attention Jeno gave him. He preened under the fleeting glances he gave him while they sang their praises to the Lord. And truthfully, Renjun had already made his decision about Jeno, but he was already too addicted to the feeling of being wanted. When Jeno laid his hand near his on the pew, Renjun brushed his pinky against the back of his palm. Just to tease him; to make him long for his touch when it was inevitably ripped from his grasp.

Chapter 3: the district tournament

Chapter Text

March 22nd, 1984 -- 58 days till state championships

Renjun was starting to get tired of being cornered.

“Are you going to the varsity party tomorrow?” Donghyuck asked, accusatory. He had found him in the art hall bathroom, the same place he had told Mark he was quitting the track team a month ago. Renjun sighed as he rinsed his hands in the sink. The soap smelled like fake cherries, and it made him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

“I’m a varsity player, so yes.” Renjun turned off the tap and walked towards Donghyuck to get a paper towel. “Why?”

“We both know you don’t belong in varsity, Renjun,” Donghyuck said venomously.

“What are you talking about?”
“You got nice and cozy with the team captain and all of the sudden you’re above someone on the ladder that you lost against in a challenge match?” Donghyuck scoffed. “I’m not stupid enough to believe you haven’t cheated your way up the ladder.”

“I haven’t lost a single game since the season started,” Renjun said angrily. Did his ex-best-friend really think he was capable of, what, flirting his way into the varsity team? “If I wasn’t capable of holding the position it would already be clear by now.”

Donghyuck scowled, his words having gotten lost on their way to his tongue. “I just think it’s pretty sad that you had to suck dick in order to pull yourself up to the top.”

“I sucked no one’s dick and you know that,” Renjun said, unbothered. He knew Donghyuck didn’t really believe what was coming from his own mouth. He was just trying to be hurtful; he knew Renjun well enough to know he wouldn’t give away sexual favors for his own advancement.

“Right, sorry. I forgot you’re such a prude.” Donghyuck looked at him pityingly.

“Shut the f*ck up,” Renjun hissed. “You’re the one that went after my first love just to get back at me. Do you really think you have the right to be mad at me?”

“I didn’t go after him,” Donghyuck scoffed. “He’s been pining after me for years. I was just too nice to tell you.”

“What-- what are you talking about?” Renjun asked.

“Mark has liked me since freshman year when you introduced us at your final track meet.” Donghyuck smirked a little. It was a sign of evil. Renjun had always felt sorry for the objects of Donghyuck’s resentment. Now, he felt sorry for himself. “But I knew how much you liked him, so I sent him away. He’s been following me around since then like a lost puppy, you know. It’s quite sad.”

“Well, I’m happy you get to be together now,” Renjun gritted out. “I’m really happy for you both.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah.” Renjun shoved past Donghyuck to get to the door.

“Are you happy to hear that I get to kiss him? That I have him at my feet whenever I want? That he fell in love with me so easily?”

Renjun’s hand tightened into a fist at his side.

“How long did you try to get his attention for? Three years? He was mine the instant I laid eyes on him.”

Renjun breathed in shakily, keeping his emotions at bay. He didn’t want to give Donghyuck the satisfaction of seeing him upset. “I don’t care what Mark does. It’s been a year. I’m over it.”

Donghyuck seemed surprised by this answer. Renjun wondered what he’d expected him to say. After a beat of silence, Renjun shook his head and turned the handle on the door and left. Before the door clicked shut, Donghyuck yelled, “Was I right?” His heart stopped for a moment. “You and Jeno?”

Renjun sat back down in class feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him, and when he looked across the room at Jeno during world history, it only made it more painful.

March 23rd, 1984 -- 57 days till state championships

Renjun had always imagined the day he turned eighteen, he would wake up feeling like a different person with a renewed sense of self. He knew that was just silly wishful thinking, but he couldn’t help but see himself a little differently in the mirror that morning. He still had a few pimples scattered across his skin, and his arms were just as skinny as they had been the night before. Yet, the boy in front of him wasn’t seventeen-year-old-Renjun anymore; It was eighteen-year-old-Renjun, who hopefully held much more potential in the coolness department.

He was already late for school, since he had spent too much time gazing at his reflection in the mirror.

“Renjun! Jeno is here!” His mother called from outside the bathroom door. “What are you doing in there?”

“Coming, Mom!” Renjun smoothed his hair down one more time, smiling at his reflection. He was ready.

“Happy birthday, son,” his father said absentmindedly while he read the paper.

“Thanks, Dad.” Renjun grabbed his backpack by door and slung it over his shoulder.

“Young man! You didn’t get breakfast!” His mother yelled after him as he escaped through the front door.

“I’ve got food, Mom!” He waved back at her as he stood in the doorway, looking very cross in her flour-dusted apron. She had probably made him pancakes. Whoops.

Jeno was waiting for him in his car, looking at his watch with his brows furrowed. Renjun smiled. He liked having Jeno wait for him.

“Hey there,” he said as he settled down in the car and tucked his backpack by his feet.

“Hi,” Jeno replied awkwardly. Renjun didn’t know why Jeno seemed so affected by his presence, but he decided to give him a break and throw him a bone.

“You look really nice today,” Renjun complimented. It was true. Jeno was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt combo he usually did, but it didn’t really matter. Jeno could make anything look good.

“Thank you.” Jeno turned his face away from Renjun quickly, and he could see a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks. “Match today.” Jeno started up the car again and pulled away from Renjun’s house.

“Yep.” Renjun wasn’t worried in the slightest. They were going against Seaside, a group of typical Californian surfer boys who didn’t have the capacity to outsmart a crab. Renjun knew it’d be a slaughter. “You feel ready?”

“Of course I do,” Jeno scoffed. “We’re gonna crush them.”

“Their track team sucks ass too,” Renjun said agreeingly.

“I’m not surprised,” Jeno chuckled. “Just watch out, though. Make sure you’re paying close attention to the score.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’ll try to trick you by calling the wrong score and giving themselves points.”

“Seriously?” Renjun’s jaw dropped. “That’s so shameless.”

Jeno shrugged. “They’re desperate. I don’t think Seaside has won anything since the 70s.”

“Do you always have the varsity party after you play them?”

“Yep. It’s a guaranteed win, so everyone’s in high spirits.” Jeno cheerfully tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the song crackling through the radio. “Plus, Jaemin’s family has a beach house in Seaside.”

“Cool.” Renjun smiled down at his hands. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the face of his watch, and the smile on eighteen-year-old-Renjun’s face was unlike anything he’d seen on seventeen-year-old-Renjun. He leaned his head against the headrest as Jeno pulled up to the school, revelling in his newfound sense of freedom.

---

Renjun wasn’t really sure what to expect from Jaemin’s beach house in Seaside, but he certainly wasn’t expecting such a quaint, little house with a balcony facing the ocean. In reality, it was probably about the size of Renjun’s home in Palm Valley, but compared to Jaemin’s house it was downright homely.

The varsity girls tennis team was on their way, and Jaemin barked orders as he tried to make the place party-ready. They stripped the furniture of its plastic coverings, pulled out the alcohol from the liquor cabinet, and Chenle and Jisung made a run to the nearest convenience store for snacks.

Jeno stood back and watched the chaos with a can of beer in his hand. Maybe he was exempt from Jaemin’s demands as the team captain. Renjun dusted off a boombox with his hand and put in a cassette tape curated by Jaemin himself. He was unsurprised when Madonna began blasting from the speakers.

The girls began to arrive in groups of two or three. Jaemin seemed to know all of them well. They were all pretty, with their curled hair and bright eyeshadow. They all had bangles that clinked around their slim wrists and messily painted nails in glittery brights. They were all loud, and they mostly stayed to themselves, giggling in a group around the snack table. Suzie Smith was there, the girl from Renjun’s homeroom. She laughed loudly behind her hand, as if that would do anything to muffle it.

Renjun escaped into the kitchen to get some co*ke, and he ended up staying there for a few minutes, away from the disarray of the living room. He remembered the last party he attended, the brief moments he’d spent with Jeno at Jaemin’s poolside. He thought of finding him and maybe running away to the beach. It’d been a long time since he’d been, and Renjun suddenly longed to feel the sand between his toes.

He walked into the living room with a mission, only to find the girls were no longer huddled around the snack table, and now they all sat in a circle with all the boys on the living room floor. There was an empty wine bottle in the middle, and Renjun almost groaned aloud when he realized what was going on. He downed the rest of his cola and crushed the plastic cup in his hand, throwing it into the untouched bowl of pretzels.

“Renjun! Come join us!” Jaemin called from the living room, grinning madly as he threw his arm around the pretty blonde girl next to him, who grimaced and shoved him away. Renjun hesitantly found an empty space in the circle and settled down between two girls. The smell of flowery perfume dazed him.

It was Jisung’s turn and he saw a few of the girls shift uncomfortably at the thought of letting a sophom*ore kiss them. Much to Jisung’s disappointment, the girl he landed on only let him kiss her hand. Chenle patted him on the back consolingly.

Suzie Smith snatched the bottle from the middle of the circle. “My turn,” she said gleefully. Renjun slumped against the couch behind him. He found these types of games horribly boring. There was nothing scandalous or interesting about boys and girls kissing. It was normal, he saw it in the movies and in the hallways every day. He didn’t bat an eye at it then, and he didn’t see why it should faze him now.

Suzie Smith let out a squeal, and it took Renjun a moment to register what had happened. The green bottle in the middle of the circle pointed like an accusatory finger straight at Jeno’s feet. Renjun felt his heart stop as icy dread permeated his senses. Jeno simply laughed good-naturedly as Suzie crawled towards him across the circle. Renjun watched it in slow motion, unable to even breathe. Like he was watching a car crash.

Suzie fisted the front of Jeno’s jersey, pulling him in eagerly to meet her lips. They kissed for a long time. At least, Renjun thought they did, the wet smacking of their lips loud in his ears. Jeno’s hands creeped behind Suzie’s neck and pulled her closer, making everyone in the circle erupt in gleeful screams. Everyone except Renjun.

While Jeno was still locking lips with Suzie, he mumbled something about needing to go to the bathroom and shot up from his spot on the floor.

Once he found the bathroom, he locked the door behind him and splashed some cold water on his face. When he looked up at himself in the mirror, he saw seventeen-year-old-Renjun. He looked just as sad, scared, and pathetic as he always had.

Renjun wiped his face on one of Jaemin’s expensive hand towels. He slapped his cheeks a few times, chastising himself for being so upset about Jeno kissing some girl. Jeno didn’t like Suzie Smith, he liked him. He would choose him over her any day. He didn’t need a stupid bottle to get Jeno to kiss him. He could have Jeno any time he wanted.

There was a knock on the door. “Renjun? Are you in there?” It was Jeno, and Renjun felt like banging his head against the wall. He opened the door, peeking out of it to see Jeno’s dishevelled appearance. His hair was a little mussed up and he had a smear of pink lipstick by his mouth.

“You have something there,” Renjun said, deadpan, tapping the spot on his own face where Suzie’s lipstick was staining Jeno’s skin. He reached up and scrubbed at the spot with the back of his palm, but he didn’t quite get it. Renjun licked his thumb and wiped it off for him. “There.”

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You disappeared and I just thought maybe--”

“You thought wrong,” Renjun said scathingly.

“Are you jealous?” Jeno asked, a dumbfounded look on his face. Renjun wanted to smack him, but paradoxically had the intense urge to kiss him.

“Not everything in my life revolves around you, Jeno.” Renjun stormed out of the bathroom.

He rejoined the circle in the living room. The bottle made him kiss two girls that night, and they tasted like spite. Jeno’s face lingered in the back of his mind as he slid his tongue against their lips. If it weren’t for the fruity flavor of their lip gloss he could almost imagine it was Jeno he was kissing.

That was when he realized that maybe his life had begun to revolve around Jeno after all.

March 26th, 1984 -- 54 days till state championships

Renjun had never thought spring break to be anything too special. He couldn’t drive and none of his friends could afford cars. Except for Xiaojun, but his family always went away on a cruise during the holiday. This year they were going to The Bahamas, which Xiaojun had complained was ‘too tourist-y,’ and ‘lacking cultural depth.’ Renjun had a feeling it was another way Xiaojun liked to boast. That was the thing with theatre kids: they never seemed to say what was really on their minds.

Sun streamed in through Renjun’s curtains. It was already noon, and he could hear children laughing and playing out in the street. The boy next door had gotten a new tricycle for his fifth birthday, and he liked to ride the clunky thing up and down the sidewalk at eight in the morning. Renjun woke up grumpy, with his pillow over his ears. It seemed as though that grumpiness carried on for the rest of the day, because he’s been nothing but miserable since he first pried his eyes open against the light.

Renjun stared at the book in his lap, the words dead on the page. It was something about robots and the jungle and a big-bosomed damsel in distress. Everything a good story needed. He groaned and fell back onto his bed. He could go help his mother with the laundry; that would be the good thing to do. But instead, Renjun laid on his bed and wallowed in his boredom for a while.

He wondered what Donghyuck was doing right now. Normally, they would be out together: going on bike rides, getting colas at the Burger King, stealing blueberries from Farmer Tom’s field, looking for the cats in lost pet posters for cash. Springs and summers were never dull with Donghyuck. Now, he was probably busy sucking face with Mark or running through monologues with Yangyang. He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Renjun felt quite pathetic. He didn’t want to be as affected by their separation as he was. While Donghyuck was going out and getting laid and having fun, Renjun sat alone in his bedroom like a sad, forgotten child. He wished he could be as happy as he pretended to be. Wished he could live the golden life of a star athlete and top student, but not all that glitters is gold.

Renjun huffed petulantly, suddenly sitting up from his bed and grabbing his denim jacket. He wouldn’t let himself wallow around and be defeated by Donghyuck Lee. No, he would enjoy his spring break.

Renjun stomped out of the house with the laces of his converse untied and flopping around dangerously like dying fish. He hopped on his bicycle, got a running start, and pedaled off, waving to the little boy on his tricycle as he passed.

All around him, fathers mowed their lawns as their wives pinned dresses onto long clotheslines to dry in the breeze. Children played with sticks and in bright blue kiddie pools adorned with goony, orange goldfish. He nodded to a man in a straw hat who was walking his dog with a baby sling attached to his back, a round cheek pressed between his shoulder blades, steadily asleep.

It was all so normal. Renjun liked to tell himself that his delinquency was not unforgivable, since everyone had their sins on their shoulders and he was no different from them. But from the seat of his bicycle, everyone seemed so painfully lovely. He couldn’t imagine Mrs. Copperfield as being greedy, or Mr. Grant lustful. They were just so good it hurt Renjun’s teeth to look at them, and he felt shame creep up his spine. They were smiling at him only because they didn’t realize they were neighbors with a sexual deviant, a sinner, a blight on the face of humanity.

It made Renjun lower his head, pedal faster.

He wasn’t even sure where he was going until he was in front of the Lee house. And now that he was there, he felt apprehensive. The last time he’d seen Jeno, he’d been horribly bitter. He’d acted as scared as he felt. His face burned with shame.

Now, he hovered his finger over the doorbell, wondering if he would need to apologize. For what, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Jeno had looked awfully sad and disappointed the last time they’d seen each other. He lowered his finger, and right as he was about to turn around and go home, the door opened.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Renjun Huang?” Jeno said teasingly.

“Were you watching me through the peephole?” Renjun accused, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I saw you from my window when you got here.” Jeno was trying to keep things light, but Renjun could sense his discomfort. He masked it quite well, but not well enough. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yes, please.”

Jeno stood back and gestured for Renjun to come inside. Mrs. Lee was at the counter flattening some kind of dough with a wooden rolling pin.

“Hello Renjun dear!” She called when she saw him, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand and leaving behind a trail of flour. She was a very natural kind of beauty, with long silky hair and green eyes. She had a warm, toothy smile, and although Renjun knew it wasn’t the type of thing you’d see in women’s fashion magazines, it made her all the lovelier.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee,” Renjun said with a smile. “What are you making?”

“I’m trying out an old cherry pie recipe,” she replied with a sigh. “It was my grandmother’s, but I can never make it like she did.”

“It’s always delicious, Mom,” Jeno said exasperatedly. She just smiled wistfully, prodding the pie crust with her finger.

“Are you here to see Yeeun, Renjun?” Mrs. Lee asked, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. “She’s coming back from the city tomorrow afternoon for spring break.”

“No, I came to see Jeno,” Renjun said awkwardly, glancing at Jeno to gauge his reaction. He seemed unfazed, his face frozen in the same polite smile he’d had on before.

“You should stop by tomorrow, too.” She reached for a glass pie pan and lifted the crust on the rolling pin to gently lay it inside. “I bet she’d appreciate having such a handsome face welcoming her home.”

Renjun laughed, bowing his head as his cheeks burned like fire. “I’ll try, Ma’am.”

“Please don’t call me that.” She laughed. “Mrs. Lee is fine. I’m not that old yet.”

Renjun simply smiled at her kindly, unsure of what he should say or do. It didn’t seem to matter how old he got; the logic of adult discourse was completely lost on him. Luckily, Jeno saved him before he made too big a fool of himself.

“We’re going upstairs to study for world history. Right, Renjun?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Renjun wasn’t sure why they couldn’t just say he was there as a friend, but Jeno had set the scene and he wouldn’t break character now. He followed Jeno up the stairs, which were still the same odd shade of green he remembered from the church barbeque. So much had changed since then. Renjun mused about how innocent and one-sided his infatuation with Jeno had seemed back then. Shameful, yes, but always harmless. Sitting on Jeno’s bed with a guitar on his lap and feeling his hands on his. It had all felt so intimate, but now Renjun could have Jeno any way he wanted with a snap of his fingers.

He should’ve been more careful of what he wished for.

When he walked into Jeno’s room, it looked almost exactly the same as it had on the day of the barbeque. Bare, sad walls with no posters or pictures. Except, Renjun now noticed a small wooden cross hanging over the headboard of Jeno’s bed. He hadn’t noticed it before, but maybe he was too distracted by the guitar to notice something so small. It made Renjun feel uneasy nonetheless.

“So why are you here?” Jeno asked suddenly. Renjun jumped; he had nearly forgotten he was there.

Renjun shrugged. “I just wanted to see you, I guess,” he said simply. It was the truth, but maybe he shouldn’t have been so liberal with it. He shouldn’t give Jeno any false hope.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” Jeno snapped.

“Sorry,” Renjun said, flopping backwards onto Jeno’s bed. “I’m just bored and you’re one of my only friends.”

“Still not made up with Donghyuck?” Jeno asked sympathetically. Renjun felt the bed dip beside him where Jeno had sat down.

“Nope. He thinks I cheated in the challenge matches.” Renjun snorted. “He cornered me in the bathroom last week and schooled me on how I don’t belong in varsity and blah blah blah .”

“He sounds jealous.”

“Maybe,” Renjun said bitterly. “I guess that’s why he decided to start dating the love of my youth.” Renjun draped his forearm across his eyes, as if that would shut out reality for a while. It felt good to talk about what was bothering him. He never really gave himself the space to vent to his friends. They were all conversation-dominators, and Renjun could never get a word in once Yangyang and Guanheng started talking about musicals. Which was the subject of most conversations at his lunch table.

“Like Mark Lee is all that great anyways,” Jeno grumbled. Renjun smiled behind his arm. Jeno sounded jealous.

“He’s pretty amazing,” Renjun mused. “He always helped me with my homework, he walked me to my classes, he chased away bullies for me, always seemed to understand me more than anyone else…”

“Better than me?”

“Hm?” Renjun hummed.

“Does he know you better than I know you?”

“Probably not,” Renjun answered simply. He’d throw Jeno a bone and let him chew on it for a while. Until he got bored and craved more. Jeno was silent, probably because he was busy preening under Renjun’s subtle praise. “Only because you’re so good at weaseling secrets from me.”

“I didn’t weasel anything,” Jeno said, offended by the accusation. “You told me your secrets of your own free will.”

“Only to get you to stop prying,” Renjun teased.

“I can’t help it.” Jeno laid down beside Renjun. “You’re just so intriguing,” Jeno said sarcastically. Renjun jabbed him in the side with his elbow, earning a pained moan from the boy beside him.

“Are you gonna ask me why I’m here?”

“I already did.”

“Oh, yeah.”

They laid in awkward silence for a while. Conversation suddenly felt like walking on eggshells. Renjun was always worried he’d say something that would give Jeno the wrong idea. Conversely, Jeno seemed to be scared of saying something that would make Renjun uncomfortable. They danced around each other, only falling out of step once they confronted the truth. Little stumbles in their perfect illusion.

“Did I tell you I used to dance ballet?” Renjun asked suddenly. Jeno turned his head towards him, the light coming through his window, backlighting him so that he looked like he was emitting a daisy-yellow aura. Renjun had to catch his breath.

“You didn’t,” Jeno responded. “It makes sense, though.”

“Why does it make sense?” Renjun was prepared to hear about his shorter stature and lithe frame, an observation he had heard from many mouths before. Including the one of a reporter who had been covering notable high school track athletes his sophom*ore year. Someone had even cut out the article from the Sunday papers and pasted it on his locker to mock him. The reporter had described him as ‘dainty,’ and ‘feminine.’ He’d been teased for months afterwards. Since then, he’d been resentful of his thinness.

“It takes a lot of body control to be a dancer. It’s probably why you’re such a good athlete.”

Renjun turned his head towards Jeno, absolutely shocked by the comment. Their faces were only a few centimeters apart, so Renjun turned back to the ceiling before he felt any temptation.

“I thought you were going to say it’s because I look like some delicate fairy boy.”

“I’ve seen you kick ass in too many tennis matches to think you’re delicate.” Jeno laughed heartily, like the thought was so ridiculous it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Renjun felt warm.

“Maybe one day I’ll show you what I remember,” Renjun mused, his adoration for Jeno strengthening tenfold as his words rattled around in his brain.

“I’d love that.” Renjun could see Jeno smiling wistfully out of the corner of his eye. Renjun felt around the surface of Jeno’s covers with his left hand, eventually bumping into Jeno’s lightly closed fist. He slid his hand into his, shyly intertwining their fingers.

“I can’t believe I thought you were some scary fish-for-brains.” Renjun squeezed Jeno’s hand once. It was warm, while his hands were still slightly chilly from the bike ride. It felt nice, although he felt sorry for leeching off Jeno’s warmth. Perhaps that was just the nature of their relationship.

“Do I really seem that way?” Jeno’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You sometimes come off a little…” Renjun searched for the right word. “Rough.”

“Rough?” Jeno repeated quietly like he was trying to understand the word. “How?”

“I think it’s just because you don’t talk much,” Renjun said gently. “You seem like you think you’re better than everyone else, you know?”

“I’m just quiet.” Jeno brushed his thumb against the back of Renjun’s hand.

“I know that,” Renjun assured. “It’s just that not everyone knows you like I do.”

“So people really think that I have some kind of superiority complex?”

Renjun shrugged. “Maybe. That’s just my guess.”

“So that’s how you saw me before you met me?”

“To be fair, you were always a little cold and defensive towards me,” Renjun said good-naturedly, adjusting their held hands to be tighter so Jeno knew he wasn’t being serious.

“My father always talked about you,” Jeno said bitterly.

Renjun hadn’t expected that response. He knew Pastor Lee had talked about him to Yeeun, but he had no idea he’d come up in conversations where Jeno was privy.

“Is that so?”

Jeno nodded. “He’s talked about you for ages. He’s always said you were such a model Christian, how he wished he had a son like you.”

Renjun felt deeply unsettled. Any father should be proud to have a boy like Jeno, how could he even compare? “Why would he want that?” Renjun was genuinely curious. There was no way Pastor Lee was so fond of him.

“I don’t think he’s liked me since he caught me with that boy,” Jeno said mournfully. “I think I became a family failure at the age of eleven.”

“Don’t say that--”

“But it’s true,” Jeno interrupted. He pulled his hand away from Renjun to run it through his hair. “You’re, like, this perfect person. Do you realize that?”
“Me? A perfect person?” Renjun scoffed. “Jeno, if your father actually knew anything about me, he’d never want me as a son.”

“You’re still better than me.”

“In what way?” Renjun rolled onto his side so he was facing Jeno, but the other boy was just staring blankly at the ceiling.

“You’re the one who’s spouting all that sh*t about faith and overcoming sin and God’s will,” Jeno said quietly. “I’m the one who’s thrown morality to the wind. I’m the selfish one.”

Renjun stayed silent. He wasn’t sure what Jeno wanted to hear, or how to say it without being a hypocrite. “I don’t think you’re selfish.”

“Sure I am,” Jeno said, his voice rising as he became angrier with himself. “I’m the one who’s trying to lead you off your godly path or some sh*t.”

“Jeno--”

“I’ve brought so much pain to the people in my life.” Renjun watched as Jeno’s eyes sparkled with a sheen of tears. “I’m really sorry, Renjun. I should’ve let you go when you had the sense to run away.”

“You haven’t forced me to do anything,” Renjun said earnestly. “Yeah, we’re in a… delicate situation, and I’m trying to sort some things out for myself. If you could read my thoughts you’d think I was a lot less pure.”

“Is that so?” Jeno flipped on his side to face Renjun. “What are you thinking right now?”
“That it’s not April seventh yet.”

“Oh, so you’re thinking about me then?” Jeno raised his eyebrows a little bit.

“You don’t even know ,” Renjun whispered. They were close enough that the smallest breath rustled the strands of hair hanging over Jeno’s forehead. “You drive me crazy, you know.”

“Does this mean I’m allowed to kiss you?” Jeno slid his hand so that it rested on Renjun’s waist, laying in wait for the opportunity to pull him close. Renjun thought about it for a moment. The offer was certainly tempting.

“No.” Renjun shoved Jeno back and his head hit against the headboard. Hard. The cross above his bed fell.

“Ow! Renjun!” He yelled, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. “Give a guy some warning.”

“Sorry.” Renjun cringed. He hadn’t meant for the rejection to be so violent. “I just-- I want to be sure. I’m not here to give you false hope.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jeno said sarcastically, getting up from his bed to pet Bongshik, who Renjun just noticed was lounging on a pile of laundry in the corner of the room.

“Don’t be like that.” Renjun rolled his eyes. “I told you I need time.”

“I know, I know.”

“Come here,” Renjun said, reaching his hand out to Jeno.

“Why?” Jeno eyed him suspiciously.

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a dweeb and come here.”

Jeno did, and when he was near enough, Renjun caught his hand in his own. “Jeno, even if I reject you on April seventh,” Jeno’s breath caught in his throat, “I need you to know that I do still care about you, and I’d still want to be your friend.”

“No.”

Renjun’s heart stopped. “No?”

“I couldn’t just be your friend after all this, Renjun. It’d hurt me too much.” Jeno squeezed Renjun’s hand, but Renjun tore it away.

“So you only care about me as a potential romantic interest?”

“No, Renjun--”

“Worried you’ll never find another gay boy in this sh*tty little town? Are you clinging to me as your last resort?” Renjun questioned scathingly.

“Please keep your voice down,” Jeno begged. “Please.”

“I’m leaving, Jeno,” Renjun said. “I’ll see you at school.”

“Renjun, can we please not fight like this again?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” Renjun said, bordering on hysterical. “Aren’t you supposed to be making me fall in love with you? Because you’re doing a terrible job.”

“I’m not trying to make you do anything,” Jeno whispered harshly. “Renjun, you’re acting like an animal in a cage. All of this defensiveness… Who made you think the whole world is against you?”

“Your father,” Renjun said, deadpan.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and Jeno jumped away from Renjun like he had the plague.

“Hey, boys! I heard some ruckus up here, so I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“We’re fine, Mom. Thanks,” Jeno managed to say, his face ashen and his fingers shaking by his thighs.

“Okay,” she said, hesitantly ducking back out the door. “Let me know if there’s anything you boys need.”

“Okay, we will.” Renjun smiled at her warmly from where he sat on the bed. “Thank you Mrs. Lee.”

She nodded and smiled uneasily before finally shutting the door behind her. When they heard the quiet sound of her steps going down the stairs, Renjun slumped on the bed and Jeno breathed a heavy sigh.

“I’ll go,” Renjun said awkwardly, getting up from Jeno’s bed. The heat of the moment had dissipated, and in its wake, Renjun just felt weak. Jeno just watched him as he left. He’d almost expected Jeno to tell him to stay, to plead for him like he’d done in the past. Maybe Renjun had finally pushed him to the edge, and he’d decided that the risks of loving Renjun outweighed whatever desperation he must have for affection.

Renjun ran out the door, before Mrs. Lee could say anything to him, and pedaled off, away from the paradisal neighborhood altogether. He didn’t know where he was going until he could smell the river. That side of town perpetually stank of old wood and the slight earthy scent of rot. Donghyuck’s house came into view: a tiny brown house with a caving roof and piles of decaying debris on the front lawn.

Stuff spilled out of the house, and Renjun could almost see it bulging, bursting. Donghyuck’s mother collected things, with the hope that maybe one day she’d find something so valuable it’d single-handedly pull her out of the clutches of poverty. Until then, she stewed in her horde like Smaug curled up on his mountain of stolen gold. Except Donghyuck’s mother never found any treasures, only trash.

Renjun stopped in front of it, placing one of his feet down on the ground. He could hear voices coming from inside, loud ones. He recognized one of them to be Donghyuck’s mother, shrill and angry, as it normally was. Donghyuck’s mother was ill, very much so. She seemed frail as a bird most of the time, sitting in her moth-eaten chair in front of their old television with a glazed look in her eyes. But then, when the air moved the wrong way, she turned into a tornado, destroying anything and everything in her path.

He could hear Donghyuck’s voice, screaming to the point of breaking. Renjun could hear the tears in his voice. He heard the sound of glass shattering, and then the sound of something hitting the floor. Renjun was about to throw his bike onto the ground and rush into the house, but Donghyuck came out the front door first. He was holding the side of his head gingerly, and Renjun could see a thin stripe of blood running down his temple.

“Donghyuck!” He called. “What happened? Do you need me to take you to the hospital? That crazy bitch--”

“Go away, Huang,” Donghyuck snapped. He threw a leg over his bicycle, rusting and with missing spokes.

“Donghyuck, you’re hurt. You can’t bike like that,” Renjun said angrily.

“Leave me alone.” Donghyuck bit out harshly, starting to pedal eastward, towards the nice neighborhood on the other side of town. The opposite direction from the hospital.

“Where are you going?” Renjun yelled after him.

“None of your business!” Donghyuck called back, disappearing behind a corner.

Renjun’s heart pounded with adrenaline as he biked home. He remembered the days when Donghyuck would come to his house after one of his mom’s episodes. He’d climb through the window to avoid Renjun’s mother’s judgemental stares, and Renjun would try to patch his wounds. Both physically and metaphorically.

Renjun remembered a time when he was the person Donghyuck could trust most in the world, and he could trust him in turn. Renjun remembered how telling Donghyuck about his crush on Mark Lee was as easy and nonchalant as if they had been talking about the weather. Donghyuck was not mean. Sure, he was loud, frequently impolite, and audacious to a fault, but he was not mean. Renjun felt tracks of tears curve down his face as he arrived at the front of his house. It was nearing dusk, and the sun shone brilliantly as it hung just over the horizon. Renjun wiped away at his tears hurriedly, trying to collect himself before he went inside and faced his parents.

He wondered if Jeno felt betrayed, too. If he had finally allowed his walls to come crashing down for Renjun, to risk it all for him, only for him to reject what he’d been hiding within. Renjun sobbed into his hand, feeling his heart stutter.

He wanted Jeno so badly. So badly he could barely breathe. Renjun wanted to finally give him the safety he had been deprived of his entire life. He wanted to be like Donghyuck, who was so true to himself that he wouldn’t let anything stop him from being with Mark. From kissing him, holding him, having him on his knees. He wished he could be loud, impolite, and audacious, too. He wished he didn’t care about what his parents thought or what God thought.

Renjun wished he had the courage to live for himself, but such was not the way of a good Christian.

He defeatedly rolled his bike up to the front porch. When he opened the door to his room, he half expected to see Donghyuck waiting for him on his bed, dripping blood onto the sheets.

But his bed was empty.

Renjun figured he had gone to Mark’s house. He was probably being patched up in between stolen kisses and hushed words on a tile bathroom floor. He fell back onto his bed and imagined Mark delicately dressing Donghyuck’s wounds. It was a pretty picture he had only wished he could be a part of. The recipient of Mark’s tender touches.

He felt comforted that Donghyuck had someone to run to.

Renjun fell asleep early that night, with an empty stomach and the bitter taste of regret on his tongue.

April 2nd, 1984 -- 47 days till state championships

The first day back to school, everyone was buzzing. It was like after the momentary release from exams and homework and the other typical high school stressors, the students all had a newfound glow about them. Pink and green posters decorated the whole school, advertising Spring Fling in big, marker letters. The girls chattered excitedly about potential dates at their lockers, while the boys sweated over their potential rejections.

Renjun sat in his usual spot in homeroom. Everyone was early, looking bright-eyed and thoroughly sunned after the break. He fidgeted uncomfortably. He wondered when Jeno would get to class. He hadn’t seen him since that day, his face pale and the faint outline of a fallen cross over his bed. It made Renjun’s heart pound.

He came in right before the bell, his hair handsomely dishevelled and the same bright gleam in his eye that everyone else had. Renjun almost breathed a sigh of relief. Jeno was okay, Renjun hadn’t broken him. Yet at the same time, he felt a pang, deep down in his chest, at the fact that Jeno did not seem at all fazed by his presence.

“Hey, Renjun,” he said when he sat down, pulling out a notebook and turning to a page of math notes. He didn’t spare him another glance, too absorbed in his notes to even notice that Renjun was staring at him. He seemed so completely normal. Renjun felt stupid, with his shaky hands and his palpitating heart.

“Hey,” he choked out. “Already studying?”

“Yeah, I have a revision quiz in trigonometry today,” Jeno said oh-so-casually. Renjun stared as Jeno went back to his notes, running his finger along the page, tracing the ink with his eyes. He was so unaffected

“I’m taking Yeeun to Spring Fling,” Renjun blurted out suddenly. The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, like water bursting from a dam. Jeno’s finger froze where it rested on the page. He remained stoic, but Renjun could see conflict in his eyes.

“You are?” He asked, still trying to play it off cooly. It didn’t land that time, and Renjun could hear the slightly-present strain in his voice. “That’s nice. She always loved high school dances.”

“Is that so?” Renjun asked. “I have so much to learn about her.”

Renjun knew he was bordering on cruel. He knew. But he couldn’t bear Jeno pretending like he wasn’t affected by his presence. Jeno wanted him, and Renjun wanted it to feel like that.

“She’s just like any girl,” Jeno said, a strange edge to his voice. Renjun felt a sick sort of satisfaction creep into his gut.

“Is she?” Renjun asked nonchalantly. “She seems like something special to me.”

Jeno’s hand clenched into a light fist on his desk. “Why are you telling me all this, Renjun?”

“No reason.” Renjun shrugged. “Are you taking anyone to Spring Fling?”

“No, Renjun. I’m not,” Jeno said sharply before returning to his notes.

Mr. Moon arrived then, looking a lot less refreshed than the students did. He sighed as he stared at his class notes, pushing his glasses up his nose.

He did a roll call, then moved onto the general school announcements. Renjun didn’t pay attention to any of them. He was too busy looking off to the side, where Jeno jotted notes in the margin of his notebook, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth.

About halfway through homeroom, a note landed on Renjun’s desk. It was a neatly-folded piece of notebook paper, with the words ‘ pass to Jeno Lee’ written in curly cursive ink. Renjun eyed the piece of paper for a moment, overwhelmed by curiosity. He was so tempted to tear it open and read the contents, but he refrained. He passed it along to Jeno, who looked at him with wide, questioning eyes. Renjun simply shrugged in response. As Jeno unfolded the note, Renjun tried to peek at the words written in purple glitter pen inside, but to no avail.

Jeno’s face seemed to flush a little. He took his pen and wrote something on the piece of paper.

“Can you pass this to Suzie?” He asked, dropping the note back on Renjun’s desk and going back to his math notes. Renjun looked a few seats down, where Suzie Smith was peering at Jeno behind her literature textbook. She looked like she might jump out of her seat in anticipation. She had worn her blonde hair in a fluffed ponytail, which was secured with a pink ribbon. She had also slathered on a healthy amount of lip gloss, which caught the light and allowed Renjun to see the cherry gleam of her lips from across the classroom. Her glittery blue eyeshadow shone like iridescent beetles, her eyelashes their spindly legs.

He thought about balling up the note in his fist, but he fought the urge and passed it along to Suzie. He looked on as it reached her desk and she eagerly unfolded it, scanning the words and then pressing the piece of paper to her chest. She turned towards Renjun and smiled brilliantly. Renjun turned around to see Jeno waving to her shyly.

He felt sick.

---

When Renjun arrived at tennis practice, fifteen minutes late, Coach Albert had all the players circled up on the courts, criss-cross applesauce like they were in the middle of storytime in kindergarten.

“Where were you?” Jaemin whispered as he slipped into the circle as inconspicuously as possible.

“I was just running a little late.”

“Boys,” Coach Albert barked. Renjun and Jaemin stood to attention. “Pay attention, or you’ll be sidelined in our next home match.” Jaemin straightened up immediately.

Renjun looked around the circle to catch a glance of Donghyuck. He was there next to Caleb, a visor covering where Renjun knew there was a wound. Donghyuck looked happy enough, but that wasn’t surprising. He was always too strong-willed for his own good.

“The district tourney is going to be here before we know it,” Coach Albert said solemnly, “and I have a feeling many of you boys are sorely unprepared. Only our top four singles and top four doubles teams will advance to the finals. If you have an interest in moving onto state championships, I’d suggest you attend the weekend sessions.”

“Weekend sessions?” Renjun leaned over to Jaemin.

“Conditioning,” Jaemin said gravely.

“Oh.”

Coach Albert continued to ramble about districts, but it became background noise as Renjun’s attention snagged on Jeno, who sat at the opposite side of the circle. His hair was still messy, ruffled by the spring breeze. The sun shone just right on his face, his cheekbones casting shadows on his face and highlighting his long, fluttery eyelashes. Renjun felt his heart stutter pitifully.

That practice, Jeno worked with him as robotically and methodically as he had when they had first started. He remained stoic and professional as they went through the motions of a typical practice session. They did some drills, Jeno corrected his serving stance several times, he had Renjun come up to the net to hit some volleys. All the while, Renjun waited for Jeno’s sudden indifferent persona to crack, but it never did.

It wasn’t a typical practice session, though, because there was no lighthearted banter between serves, or meaningful brushes of hands as they passed the balls to one another after a game. The air was charged with tension, and it made Renjun miss several shots he would’ve normally returned with ease. Jeno seemed on edge, too. He had double faulted on one of his serves, and Renjun had never thought he’d see the day. Jeno had looked surprisedly where the ball had bounced, far too wide, and shook his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. Renjun felt bad for him, but he knew words of comfort from his lips wouldn’t be words of comfort at all.

When they had stopped briefly for a water break, Jeno casually asked, “Do you think you’re ready for districts?”

Renjun snorted. “Of course not.” He took a sloppy drink of his water, spilling some down the front of his shirt. He didn’t notice when Jeno traced the line of water that ran down the column of his neck with his eyes. “I might be able to make it into the top four, but I expect to have my ass handed to me out there.”

“What did I say about expecting defeat?”

“That it’s a guaranteed way to lose.” Renjun rolled his eyes.

“It’s true!” Jeno said defensively. “You need to have more confidence in yourself.”

“Easy for you to say.” Renjun capped his water bottle. “You have everyone falling at your feet, don’t you?” Renjun wasn’t sure what well of anger those words had sprung from, but the image of pretty little Suzie Smith and heartthrob Jeno Lee kissing on the dance floor at Spring Fling popped into his mind. How precious. It made Renjun’s blood boil.

“Let’s get back to practice,” Jeno replied curtly, turning on his heel to go back to his side of the court. “I’m going to send you some backhands. Place them where I can’t get to them.”

Renjun complied, his shoulders slumping as he resumed his place on the court.

Jeno let him off early that day. He’d said he seemed out of it.

April 7th, 1984 -- 42 days till state championships

By a miracle of God, Yeeun actually agreed to go to Spring Fling with Renjun. She said something about having some business back at home anyways. Renjun didn’t care if it had nothing to do with him, he was elated that she would come. She probably thought it was because he was smitten, but it was really because he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of her brother.

Coach Albert had been merciless that morning. Renjun woke up at six in the morning on a Saturday and biked to the tennis courts, only to be subjected to some of the worst physical torture he’d ever experienced. One junior varsity boy had thrown up about fifteen minutes in, and Coach Albert simply announced that the last person to run the length of the court and back would have to clean it up.

Needless to say, Renjun felt like his body was on fire, and the last thing he wanted to do was stuff himself into an itchy suit and play the classic male love interest for the night. However, he dutifully bought Yeeun a bouquet of flowers and spent an excessive amount of time coiffing his hair in the mirror. He wasn’t sure if it was for her benefit, or to further this masquerading game he’d created.

His heart thumped against his chest, a wicked reminder of the real reason why he was dreading the dance. His palms sweat at the thought of Jeno dancing with Suzie, his hands on her waist and their faces too close for comfort. He imagined Jeno’s mouth slicked up with her lip gloss, smelling like cherries and kissed red. He squeezed his eyes tight to try and shake the image, but it was burned into his brain like a cattle brand.

Yeeun was going to pick him up, which was mildly humiliating, but he hoped no one would notice he was getting out of the passenger seat under the cover of twilight. She would be there any minute, and Renjun was wondering if he escaped out his window could he run to Mexico by the time she arrived. It didn’t check out mathematically, however.

Yeeun arrived three minutes early, much to Renjun’s chagrin. Before his mother could insist she come with him to meet Yeeun, he bid a quick farewell before promptly fleeing out the door, bouquet dropping purple petals in a trail behind him.

Yeeun looked truly radiant. She had the slightest bit of blush on her cheeks and the slight sheen of lip gloss on her lips. Somehow it looked so much prettier on her than on Suzie Smith. She was wearing a green satin dress with puffy sleeves, and Renjun could appreciate the objective beauty of it. He gave her the flowers, and she awkwardly laid them in her lap as she drove to the school. Renjun plucked a daisy out of it and stuck it behind her ear. Yeeun laughed like a bell.

Renjun didn’t like it. It was too high-pitched, shrill, girlish.

Once they arrived, the party was already in full swing. Couples danced too close on the dance floor, the punch was spiked, and the band was already playing “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper (the musical highlight of the night).

Yeeun pulled him onto the dance floor right away. They were surrounded by color, the smell of hairspray, the buzz of stupid teenage infatuation. Yeeun wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him as he settled his hands on her waist and they began to rock back and forth in time to the music.

Renjun felt his eyes begin to wander. He wondered if Jeno was already there. He tried to catch a glimpse of his jet black hair in the crowd. He spun them around, trying to get a better vantage point, but it was no use. The dance floor was too dense with bodies; he could barely pick out anything distinct from the mob.

“You seem distracted,” Yeeun said suddenly, shaking Renjun from his thoughts.

“Sorry.” Renjun smiled kindly. “You look so pretty tonight.”

“Thank you.” Yeeun bit her lip bashfully. “I need to tell you something, actually.”

“What is it?” Renjun asked, his hands tightening on her waist in his anxiety.

“Promise you won’t be mad at me?” Yeeun looked distressed, and it was enough for Renjun to forget about his own preoccupations and focus his attention on her. For once.

“I won’t be mad,” he said gently, taking a hand and tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Renjun, you’re such a wonderful guy.” Yeeun’s eyes filled with tears. “But I’m in love with someone else.”

Renjun almost leapt for joy.

“Is that so?” He asked lightly. “That’s okay, Yeeun. I’d never hold that against you.”

“Really?” She asked, her eyes blown wide in shock. “I thought you’d be furious. I’ve been stringing you along this whole time… I just didn’t expect you to be so nice.”

Perhaps Renjun had more in common with Yeeun than he had previously thought. “Who’s the lucky guy?” Renjun asked with a smile.

“He’s from the city,” Yeeun said hesitantly. “He’s… not the type of guy my father wants me to be involved with. He’s in a band.”

“Really?” Renjun laughed. Somehow the image of pretty, pristine Yeeun hand-in-hand with some druggy bassist from the city was too comedic for him to take. “Is he good to you?”

“He is.” Yeeun smiled dreamily. “I didn’t think we’d ever work out. I was the pastor’s daughter from a small town and he was a dirty headbanger from the city. God, I thought he was so crass. The first time he asked me out I went running for the hills. I tried dating you, to see if I could forget about him altogether, but it was no use. I’m sorry.”

“Love is stupid,” Renjun said understandingly.

“Wise words, Huang.” Yeeun kissed Renjun’s cheek and removed her arms from his shoulders. “Can we still be friends?”

“Of course we can.” Renjun spun her around once and she giggled in delight. “I’ll get us some punch. Meet me by the bleachers?”

“Okay.”

Renjun pushed through the crowd of dancers as he made his way to the punch bowl. A teacher was in the middle of refilling it, so sadly they were cheated out of booze, but Renjun was happy to have something to get rid of the dryness of his tongue. He took a sip from one of the cups as he made his way over to where Yeeun sat on the bleachers. He scanned the room another time, looking for Jeno and Suzie Smith. This time, he caught sight of them, swaying gently on the dance floor.

Jeno and Suzie were a vision of budding young love if Renjun had ever seen one. Suzie giggled into her hand as Jeno tenderly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She looked at him with wet eyes that shone in the flashy light from the disco ball. Renjun found the sight sickening, and he stomped over to the bleachers in a foul mood.

“Are you okay?” Yeeun asked when he sat down with a huff.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Renjun lied through his teeth. “I had conditioning this morning so I’m really sore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Yeeun said. “Do you wanna get out of here? This party is kind of dead already.”

“Are you sure? We just got here.”

“Sure! I think Burger King is still open. I brought my purse, so I can pay you back for the last time.”

“Alright, let’s head out then,” Renjun said happily. He would take any opportunity to get away from Jeno and his date.

Renjun could never catch a break, though.

“Hey! Renjun!” An all too familiar voice called through the music. Renjun whipped around to see Jeno with Suzie on his arm. “Where are you guys going?”

“No need to be so protective, Jeno.” Yeeun laughed. Renjun smiled uneasily. Jeno was fixing him with a scrutinizing stare, and he felt like a butterfly pinned in a shadow box. “We’re just going to Burger King. Want to come?”

“I actually have something to talk about with Renjun,” Jeno said smoothly. “You have to wake up early tomorrow to help father set up service, don’t you? You should head home.”

“I suppose…” Yeeun said uneasily. “Can you get a ride home?”

“I’ll drive him,” Jeno cut in. “Let’s go.” Jeno grabbed Renjun’s hand and started to pull him towards the parking lot. Renjun was so shocked he could barely form a sentence, and his mouth gaped around words that never left his throat. He could vaguely hear Suzie calling after Jeno in her whiny voice. He looked back at her to see her arms crossed over her chest and her glossy lips in a pout. It sparked a glimmer of vengeful satisfaction in him.

When they reached Jeno’s car, Renjun finally came to his senses, and he tore his hand away from Jeno’s. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed angrily.

“You said I had until April 7th,” Jeno said cryptically. “Get in the car.”

“Why should I?” Renjun asked petulantly.

“If there’s even a small part of you that wants me, please get into the car.” Jeno suddenly looked less intimidating, and Renjun almost pitied him, because all he saw was a boy trying not to crumble under the weight of the world. It reminded him of the titan, Atlas, who was condemned to hold up the sky so it didn’t fall and crush the Earth. They’d learned about him in world history, and Renjun remembered how cruel he’d thought it was. That torture seemed even crueller reflected in Jeno’s kind eyes.

Renjun stared back for a moment, trying to read the strange, almost crazed look in Jeno’s eyes. With some hesitance, he opened the car door and ducked inside. “Where are we going?” Renjun asked as he buckled his seatbelt. Jeno didn’t answer him.

He didn’t say a word, and Renjun counted the glowing orange street lights as they passed. About five minutes later, Jeno pulled to a stop.

“The tennis courts?” Renjun laughed nervously. “Are you forcing me to get some extra practice in?”

“Come with me.” The sky was pitch now, and surrounding them was a cacophony of restless crickets and other singing creatures of the night. The tennis courts were illuminated by several harsh floodlights, and Renjun shielded his eyes as he watched Jeno settle onto one of the courtside benches like the forlorn protagonist of a coming-of-age film.

Renjun sat down beside him, so their arms were barely touching. He shuffled his feet a little bit as he tried to find his words. He’d made his mind up about Jeno ages ago, so why was he choking on his tongue when the time came to say all the things he’d practiced in the mirror?

“I don’t know what to say to convince you, Renjun,” Jeno said finally. “I don’t know how to be romantic. I don’t know how to act or how to express myself without scaring you away.” He took a deep breath, and Renjun realized he hadn’t been breathing since he left the car. “You told me to convince you to be with me, but I don’t know how to do that when I feel like every time I try to get closer to you, you just push me away again.”

Renjun looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. He didn’t know what to say. He knew Jeno was right, but he also knew that he’d never planned to let Jeno win him over in the first place.

“You left Suzie at the dance,” Renjun whispered. “You don’t like her?”

“Are you serious?” Jeno asked incredulously. “You went to the dance with my sister!”

“I just did it to get your attention,” Renjun mumbled.

“Wait-- Really?” Jeno’s eyes went wide, and Renjun swallowed down all intrusive thoughts about how cute he was.

“Yeah,” Renjun admitted. He thought about what Yeeun said earlier on the dancefloor, about her unlikely love affair with the punk rocker from the city. Renjun thought of his own words to her.

Love is stupid.

“Does that mean--”

“Jeno,” Renjun interrupted, “you don’t need to convince me.”

Jeno nodded solemnly. “I understand. Jaemin can coach you for the rest of the season, I doubt he’d mind...” he trailed off.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” Jeno asked defensively.

“Jeno, you don’t have to convince me anymore. It’s stupid, but I think I might be falling in love with you.”

Jeno stared at him for a long while, blinking slowly as the gears turned in his head. Renjun took the opportunity to look at Jeno’s face, unhindered by the judgement of other people and, finally, the weight of his own shame. Jeno’s eyelashes were long. They swept the apples of his cheeks so prettily, like a fawn. His eyes were dark, but they still shone bright under the lights illuminating the tennis courts. He reached up and brushed his dark bangs out of his face. The air smelled of tennis balls, and the breeze gently caressed his exposed skin.

Renjun reached up and curled his fingers around Jeno’s tie, before pulling him down to crash their lips together.

April 8th, 1984 -- 41 days till state championships

The next morning in church, Renjun still felt the nauseating curl of guilt tightening around his gut. But instead of letting it consume him whole, he focused his attention on his heart, which was beating rapidly at the way Jeno’s fingers brushed against his on the wooden pew. He’d never been so distracted in church before, not even when he was a little kid. Jeno sat there beside him, so warm and real and alive. Jesus had never been any of those things for him.

Pastor Lee stood at the front, giving a sermon Renjun was sure he’d heard before, but his mind was wandering off to other places. Namely, what had happened the previous night on the tennis courts. He could almost still feel Jeno’s hands on him, the warmth of his tongue, his breath on his skin. Renjun already missed it.

When the congregation stood for the next hymn, Renjun discreetly leaned into Jeno’s ear and whispered, “Right after service, meet me upstairs.” Jeno turned to him in surprise, but Renjun was already serenely singing along with the organ.

Immediately when the service ended and the churchgoers all flocked together to gossip and give each other blessings, Renjun and Jeno hurriedly sneaked up the stairs to the attic.

When they were safely out of sight and in the dusty loft, Renjun threw his arms around Jeno’s neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. Jeno made a funny sound of surprise, deep in his throat, but melted against Renjun easily. It felt natural. It felt so right that Renjun tasted sweet liberation every time his skin touched Jeno’s.

He’d never realized how good letting go would feel. Jeno panted into his mouth, and he wondered how sinning could be so bad if it felt so good. Renjun thought he might be okay with giving up his spot in heaven if it meant Jeno would touch him more. He kissed greedily, lustfully, gluttonously. He had no intention of stopping, either.

Jeno broke the kiss first, and Renjun loved how dishevelled he looked when he did.

“What are you doing?” He asked teasingly. “Are we not in God’s house?”

“I don’t care anymore.” Renjun pulled Jeno back down and pecked him on the lips once. “Let him see.”

Jeno pulled him in and kissed him feverishly, and Renjun responded in kind. Nothing quite gave him the same addicting adrenaline rush like kissing Jeno did. His hands came up to cup his face, and he revelled in the feeling of his calloused fingertips on the soft skin of his cheeks.

“Are you real?” Jeno asked dazedly when they parted to catch their breath. Renjun laughed breathlessly and pressed his lips against the side of Jeno’s neck, under his ear.

“I hope so.” Jeno groaned as Renjun placed wet little kisses down his throat, sucking a little at the skin when he got to a soft spot.

“Renjun,” Jeno whispered.

“Mmm?” Renjun hummed against his skin.

“Keep going,” he said weakly. Jeno pressed their bodies even closer, and Renjun could feel the bulge in Jeno’s slacks against his thigh. His breath caught in his throat for a moment. He started to creep his hand lower, to press the heel of his palm into Jeno to see how he’d react, when he heard a sharp gasp and the sound of something thudding to the floor behind him.

Renjun pulled away from Jeno and whipped around to see Yeeun standing at the top of the stairs, a box at her feet and her neatly manicured hand covering her mouth. Renjun began to panic, looking for an escape route. There was a window across the room, he could jump out of it. He could tell Yeeun that he was just helping Jeno practice for when he finally got to kiss Suzie Smith. He could push her down the stairs--

“Yeeun, it’s not what it looks like,” Jeno said with a shaky voice, either from the headiness of their activities or from fear. Maybe both.

“What is it then?” Yeeun finally asked, awkwardly shifting her gaze to the rafters so she didn’t have to witness their shame. Jeno was awkwardly shifting around, pulling down the hem of his shirt in a fruitless attempt to cover his boner.

They stayed silent, unable to lie. Renjun felt a sense of impending doom wash over him. Of course it had to be the pastor’s daughter, of all people. That was just Renjun’s luck. Maybe God really had been watching, punishing him for his co*ckiness.

“How long have you guys been…”

“If you tell your dad I’ll-- I’ll tell him about your boyfriend in the city!” Renjun blurted in a panic.

“What?” Jeno exclaimed.

“I’m not going to tell him anything,” Yeeun said defensively. She seemed almost offended. “I don’t care what you… get up to behind closed doors.”

“Really?” Jeno asked, seemingly in awe. “It doesn’t-- It doesn’t bother you?”

“Why should it?” Yeeun shrugged and struggled to pick up the box again. “Are one of you boys going to help me?” Renjun hurried over, giving her a grateful smile as he took the box from her arms.

“I owe you one,” he said quietly, out of Jeno’s earshot.

“I think I know a way you can pay me back,” Yeeun replied matter-of-factly. Renjun felt his heart skip a beat, worried sweet, pretty Yeeun was going to blackmail him and take him for all he’s worth. He swallowed dryly.

“How?”

“Keep pretending to be my boyfriend,” she said simply. “It’ll get my dad off both our backs. It’s a win-win situation.”

“Are you serious?” Renjun was a little shell shocked. He was expecting to get caught eventually; it was a risk he had to prepare himself for when he finally decided to give Jeno a chance. He just didn’t expect for them to get caught so soon, and he certainly didn’t expect it to go so smoothly.

“Sure,” Yeeun said, “but you have to pay for my food like a proper gentleman.”

“Of course I will.” Renjun placed the box on an old wooden chair, which luckily still had enough life in it to carry the weight.

“Good.” Yeeun smoothed her hands over her dress. “I’ll just… leave you to it then.” She glanced between him and Jeno, who was still standing on the other side of the room with his hands in front of his crotch. Renjun flushed, fixing his gaze on the dusty floorboards. Meanwhile, Yeeun went back down the creaky spiral staircase, down to the sanctuary where Renjun’s mom was no doubt looking for him.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked in a small voice. It sounded half-swallowed by the empty air of the church. Renjun felt a hollow space in his chest where the fear had invaded and vacated his body, and it was so intense he suspected it would take a few years off his life. He looked up at Jeno, whose chest seemed to be heaving.

“I’m okay.” Renjun nodded. He slowly walked over to where Jeno stood, still pressed up against the back wall. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Jeno breathed a deep sigh. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Renjun’s breath suddenly became ragged. He hugged his arms to his chest. “I shouldn’t have tempted fate. It’s my fault.” He could feel the beginnings of tears at the backs of his eyes. The more he tried to hold them back the more it stung. He couldn’t tell if it was due to the guilt of getting them caught, or if it was the re-emerging sense of shame.

“Hey, nothing bad happened.” Jeno reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Stop thinking so much.” Jeno leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss beneath his right eye. Renjun blinked. The tears were gone. Renjun wrapped his arms around Jeno’s middle, squeezing him tightly, like he might escape his grasp at any moment.

“Thank you, Jeno,” Renjun whispered.

“For what?” Jeno asked, chuckling slightly.

“For not giving up on me,” Renjun said, voice muffled by Jeno’s dress shirt.

“I would never think of doing such a thing.”

April 11th, 1984 -- 38 days till state championships

“Hello, Huang,” Jeno greeted professionally when Renjun sat down in homeroom. Jeno still had his reading glasses on as he pored over another one of his depressing, existentialist novels. They were early, and the classroom was silent other than the slight rustling of pageturns and quiet sighs.

“Stop that.” Renjun scolded, chuckling slightly under his breath. “You’re not funny.”

“You just laughed!” Jeno exclaimed incredulously.

“That doesn’t mean it was funny.”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

Renjun rolled his eyes, poorly masking the stupid smile that had begun to creep onto his face. Jeno made him silly and irrational like that.

“Hey, did you get the world history notes about Iran on Monday?” Jeno asked as he looked through his notebook.

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” Renjun asked, taking his world history notebook out of his backpack.

Renjun wasn’t expecting Jeno to lean over to whisper in his ear, “I was distracted by a certain someone.” Renjun’s cheeks immediately flushed red, and he rubbed his ear like he’d been burned as he ducked away from Jeno and his flapping lips.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “You went to the bathroom, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Jeno said cheekily, taking Renjun’s notebook and copying down his notes. “Jun, how is your handwriting so neat? You’re terrible at spelling, though.”

“Jeno,” Renjun hissed, “cut it out.”

“Cut what out?” Jeno asked, perplexed.

“There are other people here,” Renjun said quietly. “Do you want what happened on Sunday to happen again?”

“I’m just complimenting your handwriting,” Jeno whined, much too loud for Renjun’s personal comfort.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he moaned miserably and dropped his face in his hands.

---

Jeno evidently didn’t get the message, considering the moment they reached their normal spot in the back of the library during lunchtime, Renjun found himself pushed up against an old bookshelf of out-of-date textbooks.

Jeno kissed his collarbones, sneaking his hands up his shirt, and Renjun let out a little squeak of panic.

“Jeno, what are you doing?” he asked breathlessly, in shock from the sudden ambush.

“I haven’t been able to kiss you since that day in church,” Jeno whined, still leaving sloppy kisses on his jugular. “What’s the point of you being my lover if I can never touch you?”

“Jeno, stop,” Renjun said weakly. Jeno made his way up to his jaw, pressing gentle kisses leading up to his chin. “We’re gonna get caught again.”

“No one ever comes back here,” Jeno reasoned. He pecked his lips once, and when Renjun didn’t protest, he kissed him again.

The bookshelf pressed uncomfortably against Renjun’s back and the library smelled of mildew and must. Renjun tried to shift so the wood wasn’t digging so harshly into his spine, but Jeno shoved him back in place with the hand splayed across his chest.

Renjun let himself get lost in it for a little while. He would never admit it to Jeno, but he secretly liked the thrill. He knew they could get caught at any moment. Anyone could walk in on them and see them pressed sinfully against each other, hear the smack of their lips in the quiet of the library. It terrified him, but somehow the risk just made Jeno that much more exciting.

The bizarre trance he had slipped into was quickly lifted as Jeno’s thumb accidentally brushed against Renjun’s nipple. It sent a shockwave through his entire body, zipping down his spine until he felt it in his toes. He gasped, breaking the kiss and pushing Jeno away from him. He took a few deep breaths, collecting himself. Renjun thought his soul must’ve left his body for a moment. He pulled it back.

“What happened?” Jeno asked, clearly uneasy. “Did I-- Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Renjun blushed furiously. He lifted the backs of his hands to his cheeks to cool them down. “Sorry. It was just… a lot.”

“Sorry,” Jeno said dumbly.

“It’s fine.” Renjun let his head fall back onto the bookshelf behind him. “Don’t do this again, okay? At school, we aren’t anything more than classmates,” Renjun said decisively.

“What?” Jeno pouted. “Why?”

“This is too risky.” Renjun shook his head. “I don’t want to let my guard down here. Please?”
Jeno nodded solemnly. “I understand.” He sat down at their usual table and began to pull out his math textbook. He looked at him with a smile so innocent, Renjun could hardly believe that same boy had had him pressed against a bookshelf mere seconds ago. “Didn’t you say you needed algebra help earlier?”

Renjun cleared his throat and sat down across from him. “Yes.”

“If we can’t mess around at school,” Jeno said hushedly, “then you better come visit me on the weekends.”

“Okay,” Renjun said in a small voice, willing his heart to slow down. Jeno was truly dangerous for his sanity, but Renjun couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it.

As Jeno helped him with his math homework, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to other things. Jeno’s hands were long and lean, his neatly trimmed nails contrasting the rough skin on the pads of his fingertips. He tried to listen when Jeno launched into a lengthy explanation about logarithms, but he couldn’t help but think about how those hands had felt on his skin, pressing into him.

“Are you even listening?” Jeno asked suddenly, his eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Renjun gulped. “Continue.”

When Jeno twirled his pencil in his fingers, a shiver went down Renjun’s spine.

April 15th, 1984 -- 34 days till state championships

Renjun bounced his knee anxiously in the car on the way to Sunday service. His phone had been ringing periodically the day before, but Renjun had ignored all of the calls. He knew it was Jeno, and he knew he would want him to come over. Renjun had pressed his hands to his ears whenever the telephone would shrilly ring, and his dad came into his room to grumpily ask why he wouldn’t just pick up the phone.

He knew it was bad, but Renjun was just too overwhelmed. He needed to distance himself from Jeno and his eager lips and wandering hands. He left Renjun breathless, and he worried one day he would render him unable to breathe altogether.

Renjun was sure Jeno would ambush him at church. He had tried to feign being sick to stay home, but his mom had insisted if he wanted to get any better, he’d better ask for the lord’s help.

Renjun fiddled with the hem of his periwinkle dress shirt, his heart practically beating out of his chest as they pulled up to the front of the church. His mother hurried him inside, fretting over their lateness, even if they were, in actuality, five minutes early. Renjun supposed church was the only socialization his mom got, so he could understand her devotion.

When they entered the sanctuary, Renjun almost hid behind his mom as he kept his eyes out for Jeno. However, the sanctuary was solely populated by the usual congregation members, and there was no Jeno in sight. His mother busied herself with politely greeting them, while Renjun looked suspiciously around the church. He walked up to their usual spot in the front pew, setting down his mom’s purse and getting ready to settle down, his nerves calmed. That was, until he saw a prayer request card laying innocently on his seat. He picked it up with shaky hands and flipped it over. In a scrawling handwriting was written meet me in the parking lot in smeary graphite.

Renjun took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. He contemplated his options for a moment. He could just ignore Jeno’s message, pretend he didn’t see it or say it fell beneath the pew. Or, he could go see what he wanted, and stop running from his problems.

He knew logically what the best plan of action would be, but it didn’t stop the nervous goosebumps that raised on his skin as he pocketed the note and discreetly walked back to the parking lot. He saw Jeno’s car, parked crookedly in one of the spaces in front of the church. He knocked lightly on the window, and Jeno leaned over to open the door for him.

“Where were you yesterday?” Jeno asked curiously once he settled into the seat. It wasn’t prying or accusatory. He sounded almost hurt.

“I was home,” Renjun said honestly. He bit his lip, looking up to see Jeno’s expression. His eyebrows were knitted together in confusion.

“Did I do something?” Jeno asked slowly.

“No.” Renjun ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m sorry.”

Jeno nodded, his bangs falling over his face. He shifted into reverse, pulling out of the church parking lot.

“Wait, where are we going?” Renjun asked. “The service is going to start.”

“We’re skipping church today,” Jeno said with a smile. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

Renjun’s palms began to sweat with nervousness, but he just shoved them between his thighs and tried his best to ignore the pounding of his heart. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but it seemed that Jeno was taking him out of town, as the houses and restaurants and shopping centers turned into fields of wheat and pastures with grazing farm animals.

Eventually, Jeno pulled into a small dirt drive on the side of the road, and Renjun looked at him questioningly when Jeno moved to get out of the car.

“Follow me.”

Renjun did.

They were parked in front of a plum orchard, and Renjun dawningly recognized it as the plum orchard he had seen in the light of Jeno’s headlights when they kissed for the very first time. Renjun wasn’t quite sure why they were there, but he stayed silent as Jeno led them farther and farther into the orchard.

Renjun lost sight of the car, and wherever he looked the scene looked exactly the same: rows of perfectly spaced plum trees. Since the weather had become cloudless springtime warmth, the trees were all in bloom, and soft white petals rained down on them like ash. A few got stuck in Jeno’s hair as they walked, and Renjun smiled softly at the sight.

“How about here?” Jeno asked suddenly, shattering the tranquil silence. He stood in front of a particularly large plum tree, with gnarled roots sticking out from the ground and lichen growing on the bark. Jeno sat down on a lush patch of grass at the tree’s base, leaning his back up against the trunk.

“What do you mean?”

“To rest,” Jeno said, taking hold of Renjun’s hand and pulling him down on the ground with him. Renjun hesitantly made himself comfortable on the ground. He was wearing his nice slacks, the ones he reserved for church functions. He tried to shift around in a way that wouldn’t get awful, impenetrable grass stains on the knees, but it was no use. Jeno laughed at his discomfort and pulled him on his lap. “There.”

“What are you doing?” Renjun asked fearfully, scrambling away from Jeno and landing, butt-first on the dirt.

“I’m not doing anything. What’s up with you? You’ve been acting strange.”

“No I haven’t,” Renjun insisted, although he knew it was futile.

“Yes you have.” Jeno said sternly. “Just tell me. I won’t judge you.”

“You will, though.” Renjun sighed, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Jeno said with a sigh, “you can tell me. I won’t laugh.” He looked Renjun directly in his eyes, as though trying to prove how serious he was. It was endearing, and Renjun remembered why he had finally decided to choose Jeno in the first place.

“Um, well, I just--” Renjun struggled to find the right words. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” Jeno snorted unattractively. “sh*t, I told you I wouldn’t laugh.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Renjun shook his head, taking a fistful of grass and tearing at it viciously.

“But why are you scared?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Stop saying that!”

“It is!”

“Just tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jeno. I’ll get over it.”

“No, tell me now.”

“No.”

“Yes!”
“It’s because I’ve never had sex before!” Renjun blurted out, far more loudly than he had intended. He hid his face in his knees, unable to bear the look of uttermost shock Jeno had plastered on his face. He twisted the stem of a daisy around his finger and tore it up by the root, playing God.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” Jeno asked. “Because you’re afraid I want sex?”

It sounded stupid when Jeno put it like that. Renjun could never imagine Jeno forcing him to do anything he didn’t want to, or him knowingly going at a pace Renjun wasn’t comfortable with, but it still kept him awake at night, when the covers slid against his skin like the lightest touch of hands. Renjun shivered. “I told you it’s dumb.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Jeno ran a stressed hand through his hair. “We just started seeing each other, Renjun. We don’t have to have sex yet.”

“But you want to,” Renjun said mournfully.

“I didn’t say that!”

Renjun gave him an unimpressed look.

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. I won’t ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“You’ll get bored of me,” Renjun whined. “I’m a prude.”

“You’re a prude?” Jeno smiled devilishly. “You’re the one who mauled me in a church.” Jeno pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his shirt and lit one up. He took a long drag, blowing the smoke out through his teeth.

“That was a one time thing,” Renjun said under his breath, slightly transfixed by the grey smoke escaping the slight part in Jeno’s lips. They were dry and cracked, and he watched in fascination as Jeno’s tongue darted out to wet them. They shone red and glossy like forbidden fruit.

“Do you remember what I said to you at Jaemin’s party?”

“No.” Renjun tore his gaze away from Jeno’s mouth.

“Hmm,” Jeno hummed. “Do you want to try?” He held out the cigarette to Renjun, little embers dripping from the tip and onto the soil below. Renjun took it between his pointer and middle finger, as he’d seen his mother do. He put it to his lips and breathed it in like he was sucking cola through a straw. Renjun immediately started coughing as the smoke burned his throat and his lungs, and he could hear Jeno laughing as a few tears ran down his cheeks.

“You’re cute,” Jeno said once the coughing had died down. The cigarette had become a useless nub between Renjun’s fingers, so he threw it to the ground and stomped it vengefully with his shiny shoes.

“That was disgusting,” Renjun said petulantly. His voice came out a little husky, like he’d just woken up from a deep sleep.

“It’s not pleasant.”

“Then why do you like them so much?”

“Everyone smokes.” Jeno shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a matter of liking them.”

“You shouldn’t do things just because everyone else does them.”

Renjun swallowed, the burn from the smoke made his throat feel tender, and his nose stung uncomfortably when he breathed. He looked down at the ground by his foot. There was a little beetle scuttling on the patch of dirt by his hand. He trailed it with his eyes as it awkwardly tottered over to a dewdrop and started drinking from it. Suddenly, a hand was touching the fleshy underside of his chin, and his gaze was lifted to meet Jeno’s.

Jeno leaned in, and placed a single soft, dry kiss onto his lips. He pulled away, and his eyes were there. Reassuring and warm. Renjun slipped his hand behind his neck and pulled him back again.

Around them, the spring breeze blew and petals scattered around them in a white flurry. Renjun kissed Jeno until his lips were as plump and purple as a plum.

---

“So, where did you run off to before church?” His mother asked him pointedly at the dinner table that night. Renjun’s dad wasn’t there, he was probably eating fast food in his office at the university. Renjun could imagine him: surrounded by papers, his spectacles falling down his nose, a cheeseburger in his left hand as he feverishly writes with his right.

“Pastor Lee asked me to help Jeno with some heavy lifting downstairs,” Renjun lied easily. Lying had become something like second nature to him.

“Is that so?” She patted a napkin on her lips. “Well, I’m happy to hear you two get along.”

Renjun shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Your girlfriend was asking where you were.”

“Who?” Renjun asked dumbly around a mouthful of broccoli.

“The pastor’s daughter, Yeeun. She was asking about you.”

“Oh, yes, Yeeun and I are, um, she’s my girlfriend,” Renjun said awkwardly.

“She seems like a good girl.”

“She is.”

“Make sure you treat her well, Huang Renjun.”

“I will, Momma.”

“Good.” She leaned back in her chair, satisfied. “Leave your plate, I’ll clear the dishes.”

“Thank you,” he said politely, pushing back his chair and rushing to his room. When he was inside, he leaned back against the closed door, clutching a hand to his chest and breathing deeply. His heart was pounding, and he could feel anxiety squeezing his heart in a vice grip.

His eyes caught on the telephone sitting on his bedside table. Without thinking about it, he grabbed it off the receiver and called a number he already knew by heart.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Yeeun,” Renjun said breathlessly. “Can you get Jeno?”

“Sure, one minute.” Renjun chewed his nails as he waited.

“Renjun?”

“Jeno.” Somehow just the sound of his voice instantly made Renjun feel calmer, collected his nerves. He suspected that was the effect of being alone for a long time, then suddenly having someone on his side. Jeno’s father was a pastor. He understood his deep-rooted guilt and the internal struggle against himself. Jeno was safe and nonjudgmental.

“What’s going on?” He asked, clearly concerned.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Renjun smiled, glad that Jeno couldn’t see. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Jeno said uneasily. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Yes,” Renjun said reassuringly. “Am I not allowed to just check up on you?”

“Of course.” Jeno cleared his throat. Renjun could picture the blush at the tips of his ears. “Did I get you in trouble?”

“No, I just told my mom I was helping you move things downstairs.”

“She bought that?”

“Yep.”

“Nice job, Jun.”

“Hey Jeno?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me Jun.”

“Why not?” Jeno whined. “I’m your boyfriend, I should get pet name privileges.”

Renjun’s heart leapt into his throat. “What?” he choked out.

“Are you okay?”

“Are we--?”

“Are we what?” Jeno asked. “Boyfriends?”

“Yeah.”

“What else would we be?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Renjun swallowed dryly. His heart was beating rapidly and he could barely form a sentence. Having a boyfriend was a scary concept. The label somehow made the wrongness of what they were doing so much more blatant. They had the gall to take their sin and slap something so normal onto it. It felt like they were misusing such a pure concept, twisting it into something vile. It made Renjun feel sick.

“Are you still there?”

“Do you think it’s a sin?” Renjun asked suddenly.

“Do I think what is a sin?”

“Do you think that-- that being my boyfriend is a sin?”

“Why would I think that?” Jeno asked, as though he was offended by the notion. “Renjun, if being together was a sin, it wouldn’t make either of us feel happy.”

“I can’t help but feel guilty.” Renjun thought about his mother’s distraught face after she’d found the magazine underneath his bed. Then he thought about her smile when he told her about Yeeun.

“Do you feel guilty when you kiss me?”

“What?”

“Do you still feel guilty when we kiss?”

Renjun paused for a moment and thought about that. “When we kiss I can barely think about anything other than you.”

“Me too,” Jeno said quietly. “It’s okay, Renjun.”

He closed his eyes as he listened to the sound of Jeno’s breathing through the phone. “I wish you were here,” Renjun said without thinking.

“I wish I was there, too.” Jeno sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Renjun responded softly. He wanted to tell Jeno to stay on the line a little bit longer, just to be in his presence, but he didn’t want to seem desperate.

“Goodbye, Renjun.”

“Bye Jeno.”

Renjun waited to hear the dial tone, low and crackling in his ear. He sighed, dropping onto his bed and tossing the phone beside him. The whole day played behind his eyelids in vivid color. Jeno’s rust-red car, the white plum petals, silver utensils, his yellow phone.

They were playing a dangerous game. They were reckless, acting like they were much more naïve than they actually were. It was nice to play pretend, though. Renjun could imagine a world where he could hold hands with Jeno over the table in the library like the other couples. He could imagine a world where locking lips with him didn’t have a guilty aftertaste. He could let himself sink into it, to ignore the thick cloud of fear constantly hanging over their heads.

Renjun laid on his bed, feeling the cool evening air coming in from his window, with Jeno’s low voice still tickling his ears. He held his hand over his heart, and let it beat however it wanted to, without imposing guilt or anxiety on it. It slowed, gently throbbing in his chest.

He suddenly heard a sound outside of his door, and he lifted his head off the mattress with a furrowed brow. The fear was back, and his heart raced. Renjun shook his head, convinced he must’ve just imagined it. His nails were still chewed down to the quick by the time he fell asleep that night.

April 20th, 1984 -- 29 days till state championships

Renjun stretched out his arms as he reached the tennis courts. The day was sweltering hot, and the sun had burned through all the clouds early in the afternoon. It also happened to be the last match they would have all season, leading the way for districts the following week and, finally, state championships. Renjun had a hard time processing it. The season had gone by in a sweaty, tiresome whirlwind. He’d had a stunning winning streak, only losing one match in the early days of March, and he didn’t intend to break it now.

As he walked into the indoor tennis courts (and was greeted by the same frenzied chaos that accompanied every gameday) he took a few test swings with his racquet. His fingers had melded into the grip, and they sunk comfortably into position. It was still arguably too small for a boy his age, but Renjun didn’t really care. It’d gotten him through many practices and games and shots just fine. He was too attached to let go now.

He clapped Jaemin on the back encouragingly as he passed by, and he turned around and smiled his bright, devious grin that Renjun was secretly fond of, even if he’d called it crazed on multiple occasions. Jisung and Chenle practiced across from one another, much less coordinated without another person to cover the empty spaces. As a duo, they were just as much an asset to the team as Jeno. Alone, however, they found themselves floundering. Either of them could still beat Renjun in a singles match any day, so he didn’t dare judge.

Renjun made his way to Jeno, who was drinking from a plastic water bottle while observing Chenle and Jisung’s practice session.

“Hey,” he said nonchalantly. They’d gotten surprisingly good at masquerading as coach and pupil since the first (and disastrous) week of their canoodling. “Who’re we playing today?”

“Don’t you ever listen to Coach Albert?” Jeno scoffed. “We’re playing Oakfield.”

“Are they good?”

“You’ll see on the court.” Jeno frowned. “You should never underestimate your--”

“Opponent, yes, I know.” Renjun knocked his shoulder against Jeno’s lightly. “I won’t.” He smiled at him shyly. Renjun pretended he didn’t notice.

“You’re late. Practice time is almost over,” Jeno said, squinting to look at the clock on the wall.

“I don’t need practice time.” Renjun swung his racquet around as if to demonstrate some kind of skill. Jeno didn’t seem impressed.

“I hope you lose today. You’re too co*cky for your own good.”

Renjun slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t jinx me like that!” Jeno laughed gaily while Renjun moodily sipped from a bottle of orange Gatorade.

The door opened and the familiar booming, yet aged, voice of Coach Albert called, “Time to line up, boys!”

Jeno looked at Renjun with a winning smile, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss that ridiculous grin away. He refrained, but the thought lingered in the front of his brain as he got into position in the lineup.

Oakfield had a remarkably small team, likely the smallest they’d played all year. They were scrawny, too. Renjun might’ve been lean but he’d been an athlete for years and it showed. These boys looked like they still belonged in middle school.

Because they were such a small team, only a portion of junior varsity was called to action, so Donghyuck stood miserably at the very end of the line. Renjun felt sorry for him, even though he knew Donghyuck would never want an ounce of pity. Especially not from him.

He went through the motions of the pre-game ritual: the name-calling, the handshakes, the two perfectly-timed claps. He remembered how perplexed he’d been the first time he’d stood in the lineup. As he shook the hand of his opponent, he wistfully reflected on how it would be the last time he would stand with his team in such a way. It sparked an overwhelming sense of duty and devotion. It was quite sudden; Renjun typically only played for himself. This time, his win would not only be his.

Once they were set up on their court, Renjun spun his racquet to start the game, and when the arrow pointed in his favor, he chose to receive first. His returns were always better than his serves, and he wanted to intimidate his opponent right off the bat. They were playing on one of the indoor courts, which held the afternoon heat like a sauna, and Renjun was dripping sweat onto the court before his opponent even took his first serve.

For the first set, things were looking up for Renjun. He’d won all the games by a landslide, and it turned out the boy from Oakfield had delightfully predictable serves. When he got into position at the beginning of the third game of the second set, Renjun was confidently perched a bit to the right, and a foot farther back than he would normally stand, to give himself enough space to return the boy’s serves (which went a tad bit long and to the right).

Renjun bounced on the balls of his feet cheerfully. Even if he was sweating like a pig, there was nothing quite like playing a game with the certainty that you were going to win. Jeno would scold him for being arrogant, but Renjun just called it confidence.

His opponent--he’d forgotten his name from the lineup--was gearing up for another serve. He looked nervous. He tossed the ball three times before he was finally satisfied, and his serve went too far to the left.

“Out!” Renjun called, biting back his grin.

The boy shook his head, no doubt scolding himself in his head. He hit an easy serve within Renjun’s reach, and he lazily returned a short, down-the-line shot. He was sure the boy wouldn’t be able to reach it in time; it was a perfect placement. However, while Renjun had let his guard down and started thinking about taking a water break after that game, he heard the ball thwap against the strings of his opponent’s racquet. He felt a zing of panic as he saw the ball streaking over the net. It was a deep shot, and Renjun started to run backwards to allow himself enough room to hit it back. He was going to make it, and he wasn’t going to go easy on that scrawny kid when he did. He had his racquet poised for a backhand, his brows furrowed in intense focus.

Focus so intense that it drowned out all the shouting.

“Ball on court!”

“Behind you!”

“Renjun! Ball on court!”

“Stop the point!”

He did, however, feel his ankle twist grotesquely and his head hit against the surface of the court. He blinked up at the flourescent lights of the tennis club, groaning slightly. He lifted his hand to his head and struggled into a sitting position.

“You okay, dude?” There was a half circle of people gathered around him. He could recognize Jisung, Chenle, Jaemin, and a couple boys from the other team. His opponent looked down at him with a strange glimmer in his eye. Renjun scowled and tried to lift himself onto his feet, only to fall back down with a hiss as he tried to lean his weight onto his right ankle.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked him, eyes blown wide. Renjun tried to respond, but all that came out was a pitiful whimper of pain. “It’s all my fault…”

“It’s not your fault,” Chenle chided.

“I’m the one who hit the ball!”

“You tried to tell him!”

“But still--”

“Is someone going to help me up?” Renjun groaned, and the fighting ceased.

“Is anyone’s match over yet?” Jaemin asked. “Where’s Jeno?”

“He’s finished. He’s probably outside coaching the doubles teams.”

“Go get him,” Jaemin ordered, kneeling in front of Renjun. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Renjun nodded his head, biting his tongue as he felt his ankle pulse and throb in pain.

“Where?” Jaemin asked gently.

“Ankle,” Renjun responded weakly. Jaemin proceeded to press his fingers into his ankle, and Renjun gasped in pain and grabbed his wrist.

“That bad, huh?”

When he moved Renjun’s ankle into a different position, his vision clouded with black spots like burning film as the pain lit up his nervous system.

“What happened?” He heard a panicked voice ask. He could tell it was Jeno, even if he felt like he was beginning to become separated from his typical consciousness.

“A ball rolled on his court. I think he broke it,” Jaemin explained. “Can you take him to the hospital?”

“Yes.” Jeno sighed. Renjun could feel himself being lifted into someone’s arms, and he felt grateful to rest his nodding head onto their warm shoulder. His ankle flopped around precariously as they walked and he worried he’d throw up on his jersey. His mom wouldn’t like that, so Renjun swallowed the bile creeping up his throat. He felt himself being set down in a car seat, and someone reaching over him for the seat belt.

The pain started to dull as the car started, and Renjun let his head fall to the side to see Jeno driving, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He barely registered what was happening as he was finally laid in a hospital bed and asked endless amounts of questions, most being ones about insurance that he had no answers to.

Eventually, he was left alone, and with the pain medication being pumped into his veins through an IV, he could drift off to sleep unhindered.

---

Renjun woke up to bright light in his eyes, and he squinted through it as he tried to take in his surroundings. He wondered if he was still laying on the smooth concrete surface of the tennis courts, looking up at those fluorescent lights. The steady beeping in his ear and the sterile white color of the ceiling told him otherwise.

“Renjun? Are you awake?” a deep voice asked to his right.

“Jeno?” he slurred slightly as he lolled his head to the side.

“No. It’s your father.”

“Where’s mom?”

“At home.”

“Oh.” Renjun looked down at his body, laid flat in the hospital bed with his ankle elevated on two pillows and wrapped in bandages. An ice pack rested on it, but Renjun couldn’t feel the cold. “Jeno was here, did he leave?”

“He’s in the waiting room,” his dad said shortly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Renjun tried to wiggle his toes, but he couldn’t tell if he actually had. “Can you go get him?”

“The doctor?”
“Jeno.”

“Why?” His dad raised a brow at him. He was smoking a cigarette, and the fumes made Renjun’s brain hazy. He puffed one big cloud and it burned in Renjun’s lungs.

“I want to thank him.” Renjun coughed into his hand, wincing when he felt the pull of the IV in his arm. “Can you smoke somewhere else?”

“I can tell when I’m not wanted.” His father chuckled humorlessly. “I’ll be back soon. I’m going to get some coffee from the cafeteria.”

Renjun laid in the bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the other patients in the room: the shuffling, sniffling, labored breathing. He couldn’t see any of them; their beds were all separated by flimsy green curtains, but he could hear them breathe like they were in his ears.

A few minutes after his father left, Jeno stuck his head behind his curtain, smiling when he saw he was awake. Renjun smiled back, albeit hesitantly. He was embarrassed beyond belief. He wondered with a warm heart how long Jeno had been waiting at the hospital to see him.

“Did I win?”

“We covered this on day one, Huang. Injury is automatic forfeit.”

“sh*t,” Renjun groaned. “I was kicking his ass, too.”

“Think of it as charity.” Jeno sat down in the chair by his bed, taking in his state. Renjun saw him deflate a little bit when his eyes caught on his ankle. “That’s not good.”

“No, it isn’t.” Renjun looked down at his ankle, wishing he could see the damage beneath the wrappings.

“You won’t be able to play in the district tournament.” Jeno had reached his hand over and begun carding his fingers through his hair. Renjun leaned into the touch. He missed Jeno. They’d been playing their little masquerading game for nearly a week, and he hated pretending like nothing had changed. Like they were back at square one. Little moments like those, when Jeno touched him as tenderly as though he was made of glass, reminded him that things were not the same as they had been at the beginning of the season.

“Yes I will.” Renjun sighed, half in contentment and half in exasperation.

“Your ankle is badly sprained, Renjun. Districts is in a week.” His hand stilled in his hair. “You won’t be healed in time.”

“I’m going to play,” Renjun insisted. “If I don’t play in the district tournament, I won’t be able to play at state.”

“I know, it’s awful, but that’s just the way it is.”

“Jeno, I’m playing next week.” Renjun looked at him with hard, challenging eyes, and Jeno was rendered speechless for a moment. Before he could recollect himself and think of something to say, the curtain was pulled back, and Renjun’s dad was standing at the foot of his bed with a cup of coffee in hand. Jeno snatched his hand away from Renjun, clearing his throat as he stood up from the chair.

“We’ll talk more later, Renjun.” Jeno turned to his father and bowed his head slightly in recognition. “Nice to see you, sir.”

Renjun’s father hummed noncommittally in response, and Jeno shot him one last smile before he ducked behind the curtain.

April 27th, 1984 -- 22 days till state championships

It’d been a week since Renjun sprained his ankle, and he still maintained that he was going to play at districts. He still showed up to practices, avoided Jeno as much as possible during the school day, and took much more of his pain medication than what was strictly advised by his doctor.

He gritted his teeth during practices, pretending he couldn’t feel the searing pain in his ankle, shooting all the way up his leg in cruel bursts. Coach Albert had talked to him at the beginning of the week, asking if the hospital had given him the green light to continue practice. Renjun lied, told him it was only a minor injury and he had collapsed purely from the shock.

At the end of the day, he would come home and undress his ankle, revealing purple, swollen flesh. It was still achingly tender to the touch. Once he was home, he followed doctor’s orders to the letter: keeping it elevated, icing it, compressing it. But he still redressed it every morning and schooled his expression into one of neutrality as he took agonizing steps through the halls of Palm Valley High. It hadn’t gotten any better since the first day. In fact, Renjun suspected it had gotten even more swollen and painful.

Jeno watched him like a hawk during the school day and in practices. It was like he was waiting for the smallest slip-up, waiting for a shred of proof of Renjun’s injury so he could go report it to Coach Albert.

Renjun didn’t give him the satisfaction. As painful as it was, Renjun pushed through every class, every bike ride, every practice. Sometimes he felt himself grow woozy from the pain, but he would just call a sudden water break and Jeno didn’t seem to bat an eye.

He had made it all the way through the week. It was finally Friday, and the first day of districts was well within his reach. No matter how hard he tried, however, he still couldn’t play as well as before. He was slow, much slower than he’d ever been before, and he struggled to return Jeno’s shots as he ran to and fro on the court. The adrenaline kept him going; every game was a fight to be won, and his practice matches against Jeno were no exception.

He began to sweat as he felt the pain in his ankle build to an unbearable level, and when Jeno sent him another crosscourt shot, he let it bounce past the baseline and off the court.

“I need a drink of water,” he said weakly, letting his racquet clatter to the ground as he moved to the courtside, where his backpack was perched. He did all he could to not limp, but once he placed his weight on his ankle, he stumbled and grabbed onto the net post for support.

“Renjun, are you okay?”

Renjun nodded his head, but he was so dizzy he found himself slumped over with all his weight on his left ankle. He knew it was only a matter of time before the façade would come to an end, but he had hoped he could at least hold on until after districts.

“No you’re not,” Jeno said worriedly. “Come here.” Luckily, they were the only ones left in the indoor tennis courts, and their voices sounded hollow in the empty space. He wrapped his arm around Renjun's waist, and he didn’t protest when Jeno threw his arm around his shoulders so he could help him to the bench. Once he’d gotten him settled, Jeno knelt down in front of Renjun and began to take off his shoes.

“Jeno!” Renjun exclaimed, trying to push him away with weak arms as he started to undo his wrappings. “Jeno, stop it.”
Jeno ignored his protests, and when he finally got the rest of the bandages off, he let out a choked gasp. Renjun’s ankle was badly bruised, and it was swelling so much it looked like it’d been attacked by stinging bees. Jeno looked up at him with wide eyes, and Renjun bit his lip in guilt. Jeno looked horrified.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if it was what Jeno wanted to hear, but he thought it was worth a shot.

“You told me it was healing fast,” Jeno said, dumbfounded. “You told me you were okay to play. If I had known…”

“I need to play at districts,” Renjun said determinedly. “I didn’t work my ass off all season just to be bedridden while you go off to state championships. Plus, the team needs me.”

“You’re so f*cking stubborn.” Jeno ran his hand over his face and through his hair. “You can’t play. I’m going to tell Coach Albert.”

“No!” Renjun grabbed Jeno’s shoulder and looked him dead in the eyes. “I swear to God, Jeno. If you tell Coach Albert about this, we’re done.” Renjun said scathingly.

“Are you serious?” Jeno asked, sounding a lot more sad than angry. “Do I mean that little to you?”

Renjun stayed silent, watching Jeno’s face as his jaw tightened and his face retracted into hard lines. He looked down to the ground, and Renjun could see the elegant sweeping motion of his eyelashes as they rested on his cheek. Jeno meant more to him than he’d ever know, but Renjun’s ambition would always be stronger than love.

“I’m team captain before I am your lover,” Jeno said succinctly. “If you decide to be a child and resent me for that, then we were never meant to be.” He got up to leave, aggressively shoving his racquet into the big pocket of his backpack. Renjun began to panic. Jeno got up and started for the doors, and Renjun struggled onto his feet.

“Wait! Jeno, wait,” Renjun called, shaky on his legs. He caught up to Jeno and took a fist of his grey t-shirt, but when Jeno moved away and the material slipped from his fingers, he fell to the ground. His knees took most of the shock, and he could feel them burn under the rough concrete. He felt the shameful burn of tears tickling at the backs of his eyes. “I need to prove them wrong.”

Jeno’s knees cracked as he bent to Renjun’s eye level. He felt his big hands on his shoulders. He loved those hands dearly. They were gentle, guiding hands. Hands that made music and gripped the handle of his racquet like Perseus and his sword. They were hands that traced the ink of books and hands that loved to slip under his shirt and feel the soft skin of his stomach.

Renjun knew, deep down, that no matter what empty threats he threw at Jeno, as much as he loved dangling himself over his head, Jeno would always have absolute power over him. He’d never use that against him, though. Jeno was too kind.

“From day one, I’ve just been fast,” Renjun said miserably. “I’ve never been a tennis player. I’ve been a runner with a racquet in his hand.”

“That’s not true--”

“Yes it is!” Renjun wiped some snot on his upper lip. He supposed he was crying, but the embarrassment was secondary to everything else. “I wasn’t good at tennis, I was good at running around on a court. But now, I don’t even have that.” He looked down at his ankle, still angry and purple. He pressed his fingertips into it, hissed through his teeth at the pain. “I’m not fast, and I’m still going to make it into the top four tomorrow. I need to prove that I’m not just a runner with a racquet. I’m a tennis player now.”

Jeno sighed, looking down at Renjun’s ankle. He removed his hand, lacing their fingers together. They were alone, in the vast empty space inside the indoor courts. Renjun felt awfully small, and it felt awfully normal to squeeze Jeno’s hand in his own.

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

“You could kiss me.”

When Jeno leaned over and pressed his lips on his cupid’s bow, Renjun wrapped his arms around his neck and lowered them both backwards until his head rested against the cold concrete. Jeno stripped his shirt, put it under his head as Renjun dug his fingernails into Jeno’s scalp, gasping against his mouth.

April 28th, 1984 -- 21 days till state championships

Jeno evidently hadn’t told Coach Albert about his injury, considering he was able to board the bus to districts with no issue. Jeno was already sitting with Jaemin when he shoved his way through the narrow aisle of the schoolbus with his duffle bag, but he still offered a small wave and a shy smile. Renjun swallowed dryly and smiled back.

He found an empty spot at the back of the bus, plopping his bag beside him to deter anyone from sitting there. He tried to read for the first ten minutes of the ride, but it was too loud and bumpy to focus properly on the words. He snapped the book shut and leaned his head back against the vinyl seat. He could hear Donghyuck’s voice. His laughter was loud, and it rang in his ears within the enclosed space of the bus. It was almost like the metallic reverb of the indoor tennis courts, except the bus was much smaller so it rattled his brain.

He suddenly remembered very vividly how Donghyuck had laughed like that when they were six, and Renjun had dropped his vanilla ice cream splat on the hot pavement in front of an ice cream truck. He’d laughed at him as he sniffled and held an empty, dripping sugar cone in his little fist. They’d spent the whole day on their bikes, still fixed with training wheels, searching for ice cream trucks sweeping the suburban neighborhoods.

Renjun had sunburns on his cheeks, and they reddened even more as he cried and his face became blotchy and snot ran down to his chin. He was too busy mournfully staring at the scoop of ice cream dissolving on the sidewalk to notice Donghyuck standing in front of him. Not until he pressed a fresh ice cream against his warm cheek.

“Take it,” he’d said with a grin, his two front teeth missing. “I stole the money from my mommy anyways.”

Renjun had taken it with wide eyes, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “Thanks, Hyuckie.”

“You’re welcome.” Donghyuck messily suckled on the bright red popsicle he’d bought. It was all around his mouth, staining his skin red. “Do I look like a vampire?”

“Yes.” Renjun had giggled, taking a lick from his ice cream, which had already dripped down onto his hand.

Renjun smiled softly at the memory, but felt an uncomfortable pang of hurt once he remembered the way Donghyuck had shot him such a look of disgust when he’d seen him outside his house. Donghyuck didn’t want him anymore, but Renjun would be lying if he said he didn’t miss him. Deeply.

Renjun sighed and leaned his head on the frosty window of the bus. The tournament was going to start at eleven, and they’d left before the sun had crested the horizon. He squinted as he looked outside at the sunrise. The sky was yellow and pink and periwinkle; Renjun wondered why he didn’t wake early every day if mother nature was going to give him this kind of view. Then he remembered the warm comfort of his bed and he realized that was silly.

He’d found that the older he got, the more he started rationalizing everything. Maybe that was why they were no longer friends. Donghyuck had always been an idealist. Almost to the point of childishness. Perhaps it was necessary for his survival.

The bus jumped again, derailing his meandering train of thought. He shook his hair out of his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. He’d sleep while he could, since moments of such peace would surely be a commodity over the next couple days.

He drifted off to the ruckus of frenzied teenage boys and the low rumble of the bus’ engine.

---

Renjun wasn’t really sure what to expect when they reached the club hosting their tournament. The courts looked almost identical to the ones in Palm Valley, except they were colored a deep blue. At eleven, it was already starting to get hot, and Renjun shucked off his sweater in favor of his short-sleeved jersey. His ankle throbbed, but he was much too nervous about the games to care.

The coaches were bent over a clipboard, arguing in gruff voices and pointing aggressively with pencils. The players stood in an awkward clump, antsy as they waited for the first round of matches to be called. Renjun looked around and saw some familiar faces. Those of boys he’d seen lined up across from him at matches. He chewed on his thumbnail.

Suddenly, he felt a presence beside him, and he turned his head to see Jeno’s smiling face looking down at him. He smiled in return, stepped ever-so-slightly closer so their shoulders were pressed together. He was warm, and it was comforting in its familiarity. He felt a lot less nervous, and he wiped the spit from his thumb before brushing his knuckles against Jeno’s hand where it hung by his side.

He stood at attention when one of the younger coaches began listing off the first round of matches, his back straight like a soldier going to war. Jeno’s name was called first. He was going to play a boy named Neil on court seven. Renjun kept that in mind in case his name wasn’t called and he could watch his match.

His heart sank a little when his name was called second-to-last. He was assigned to court ten, his opponent’s name Mason Baker. Jeno seemed to notice his slight slump, and he gave him an encouraging pat on the back. He bent down and ghosted his lips against Renjun’s ear. “One point at a time, Huang.”

Renjun’s lips turned up at that, transported to their first practice when Jeno refused to tell him that little tidbit as punishment for not listening. Things had changed so much since then. Jeno turned to walk to his court, and Renjun really wished he could’ve kissed him. He’d learn to be satisfied with the warmth of Jeno’s presence and the brushes of hands. A calm, quiet love. Like settling dust.

Renjun didn’t limp when he walked to the net to shake his opponent’s hand. Mason Baker wasn’t scrappy-looking by any means. He towered over Renjun and his arms were nicely muscled. He smiled toothily, but Renjun didn’t return it. He needed to stay focused, and being amicable with his opponent wasn’t productive.

He lost the racquet spin, and Mason chose to serve first, sticking three balls in the pockets of his shorts and sending Renjun one more wicked grin. He scowled at his sneakers as he got into position to receive. He was in a sour mood, his ankle hurt like a bitch, and this boy seemed way too confident for his own good. Renjun knew he seemed small and unassuming, but if Mason was a good tennis player, he wouldn’t be so quick to underestimate his opponent.

The first set went by in a blur, and between the heat and the pain, Renjun felt delirious. He had just enough awareness to know he was winning, and that Mason was getting angry. The first set had been close, much too close for Renjun’s liking. He’d won six games while Mason had won four. He must’ve thought Renjun would be an easy opponent, that he could take the match no problem, but his assumptions had come to bite him in the ass. He looked like he was about to throw his racquet down and call it. Renjun would’ve been perfectly fine with that.

In between sets, he sat down gingerly on the courtside and took a few ungraceful gulps from his water bottle. His ankle throbbed in protest, but Renjun didn’t pay it any mind.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Mason suddenly asked, pointing to the wrappings poking out of his sock. Renjun almost spit out his water, hastily pulling up his sock to cover the bandages and capping his bottle.

“It’s nothing.” He stood up, biting his tongue to stop himself from wincing in pain. He grabbed his racquet and gave Mason a cold stare. “Let’s finish this up, yeah?”

The next set was more emotionally charged. Somehow it felt personal, and every cruel shot, every aggressive serve was a jab at the other’s pride. Mason dragged him across the court, back and forth until he wasn’t sure how he was holding himself up anymore. The score reached 5-6. Mason wore an ugly, satisfied smile as they switched sides for the next game. He needed to beat him by two games, but Mason seemed to think the match was over. Renjun had nearly lost hope. If Mason won, they’d go into a third set, and he didn’t know if he could power through it.

Renjun dumped the remainder of his water bottle on his head, shaking droplets out of his hair and taking a deep breath. He ached so badly, and the sun beat down on his neck mercilessly, daring him to quit.

“Renjun!” a voice called. He wondered briefly if he had imagined it, if his body was going into a pain-induced self-preservation mode. Or maybe his guardian angel was making a sudden appearance. “Renjun, over here!” He looked over towards the sidelines, where Jeno was standing, his hands clutching the chain link fence. Behind him, there was an unruly group of parents cooking hot dogs on portable grills and cheering for their sons. Renjun jogged over, while Mason conversed with his coach.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asked, slightly giddy from adrenaline.

“My game finished, so I thought I’d come coach you.” Jeno’s face turned down a bit. “Are you okay? You seem exhausted.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to play another set,” Renjun said truthfully. It was no longer the time for silly, self-destructive lies. “It hurts.”
“Then take this set,” Jeno said simply, shrugging his shoulders. “One point at a time.”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Thanks, coach.”

“Hey,” Jeno said as he walked away, “don’t underestimate yourself.”

“You really think I can win this set?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think?”

Renjun looked down at his hand gripping the handle of his racquet and his beat up sneakers and the edge of his bandages peeking out of his socks. He looked back up at Jeno, the supportive eyes of both a coach and a lover.

“Of course I can.”
Jeno nodded, clearly satisfied with this answer. Renjun turned away. Mason was already standing at the ready, his feet apart and knees bent, racquet readied for a duel. Renjun blew a gentle breath in and out of his nose, smelling the cooking hot dogs and freshly cut grass. He turned his body, his shoulder pointed at Mason and his bright white teeth, tossed the ball high in the air, and served.

---

Jeno ensured that Renjun only had to play one match the first day of districts. Renjun was checked into his hotel room early. He was roommates with Caleb, but he had made it clear he was going to room with Donghyuck and Joseph instead. That was fine by him, though. It meant he had a quiet room and no one to question him about the bandages wrapped around his ankle. He laid on the rigid hotel mattress, his foot propped up on a few pillows and a cold can of root beer resting on his ankle. A stupid game show played on the television, but Renjun opted to stare up at the ceiling.

He’d won the second set against Mason by the skin of his teeth. The final game had gone to deuce and the winning shot had been a strong forehand straight into Mason’s nose. It hadn’t broken it, according to the on-site medic, but it bled so profusely that their court was labeled out-of-order for the remainder of the day.

Renjun threw an arm over his eyes. He was bored. All his teammates were down in the hotel pool, but he’d been banished by Jeno to his room. The can of root beer had gone warm, so he reached down and cracked it open, slurping the foam off the lip of the can.

He’d gone through the drawers to see if there were any p*rn magazines to occupy his time for a while, but all he’d found was a Bible and a few brochures about the local attractions. Definitely not what he’d been looking for. Renjun readjusted himself on the pillow again. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard the telltale squeak of the door opening on its sticky hinges.

“How’re you feeling?”

Renjun cracked his eye open to see Jeno standing at the foot of his bed, his hair wet and hands shoved into the pockets of his grey sweatpants. “Bored.”

“I meant your ankle.”

“I haven’t looked since this morning.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Jeno sat down on the foot of the bed, taking off his shoes and starting to unwrap his bandages. Renjun didn’t complain, just laid there and stared at the ceiling as Jeno gently pressed his fingers into his ankle, gauging Renjun’s reaction. He inhaled sharply and Jeno retracted his hand.

“You went swimming with the rest of the team and left me here to rot,” Renjun complained, petulantly avoiding eye contact with Jeno.

“No I didn’t.”

“Your hair is wet!”

“I took a shower.”

“Oh.” Renjun finally lifted his head. Jeno was still sitting on the edge of the bed, ghosting his fingers over his ankle. He couldn’t feel it. “I should probably shower, too.”

“Okay. Do you want me to go get you some ice?” Jeno stood and wiped his palms on his sweats, a drop of water from his hair slithered down his collarbones and disappeared under his shirt. Renjun’s eyes lingered. Jeno’s shirt was white and ever so slightly sheer, and he could see the outline of Jeno’s chest and stomach. He drank in the sight for a moment, before snapping his eyes back up to Jeno’s face. He gulped.

“Actually-- Um.” Renjun cleared his throat. “I don’t think I can shower by myself.”

Jeno’s eyes widened comically, and he awkwardly cleared his throat before speaking. “Why?”

“My ankle.” Renjun deadpanned.

“You want me to-- to help you shower?”

“I might slip!” Renjun said defensively. “Caleb is staying with Donghyuck and Joseph, no one will find out.”

Jeno gaped at him fish-mouthed for a moment, before realizing what he must look like and snapping his mouth shut. “Well, I don’t see why not.” He took a shaky breath. “Are you sure?”

“It’s not a trick, Jeno.” Renjun grabbed a change of clothes from his duffel bag and made his way to the bathroom. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” Jeno said weakly. Renjun felt the way his heart began to race as he watched Jeno take off his shirt, and his chest ached with the force of it. Jeno was terrible for his cardiovascular health.

Steadying his nerves, Renjun ungracefully stripped down, accidentally getting caught in his shirt for a moment before wrestling himself out of it. He blushed up to his ears when Jeno offered his hand as he stepped out of his shorts.

He could feel Jeno’s eyes on him as he stepped into the grimy hotel shower. He tried to maintain some semblance of confidence, but he’d underestimated how much being stripped naked would make him feel… exposed. He hugged his arms around his torso as Jeno followed behind him. The shower was cramped, perhaps to discourage the exact thing they were doing.

Jeno turned on the water, and Renjun’s eyes traced the line of his jaw as the shower spray came down cold. Renjun gripped Jeno’s shoulder as he felt his feet lose traction with the tile. When the water warmed, Jeno grabbed the little bottle of shampoo he’d snagged from the stack of samples by the sink. Renjun heard him squirt a little bit in his hand, and when he turned to face him, he immediately started lathering it in Renjun’s hair. It smelled like oranges.

Renjun stepped closer, hands holding onto Jeno’s shoulders. It was less for the sake of safety and more to feel his heated skin under his fingertips. Renjun’s eyes were tightly closed as soap suds ran down his face and over his eyelids. He felt Jeno try to wipe the soap from his face with his thumbs, but when he opened his eyes they stung. He pressed the heel of his palm into his right eye.

“Are you okay?” Jeno had the audacity to laugh.

“You got soap in my f*cking eye.”

“Sorry.” Jeno wrapped his arms around Renjun’s neck, pulling him close. The pain in his eye lessened considerably, his mind now occupied by the way Jeno’s body pressed flush against his. He could feel everything, and he could feel his blood run a little faster underneath his skin. He shivered. “Are you cold?”

“No.” Renjun pulled away, flitting his eyes shamelessly down Jeno’s body and then to his eyes. “You want me too, don’t you?” Renjun reached up slightly, ghosting his lips on Jeno’s jaw.

Jeno didn’t answer, just leant down the rest of the way and clashed their lips together bruisingly, hands digging into his freshly washed hair. Renjun sighed into his mouth like he’d been waiting for centuries. They stayed like that until the water went cold.

Chapter 4: state championships

Chapter Text

May 8th, 1984 -- 11 days till state championships

Renjun had barely made it through the district tournament. He came out of it feeling haggard, his back aching and his ankle feeling like it would snap if he put any more pressure on it. He’d made it through one more match, winning against Jacob, who was one spot higher than him on the ladder. Renjun forfeited the next match. He’d made it into the top four singles players on the team and that was all he needed to advance to state championships.

Jacob sat far away from him on the bus, occasionally giving him deathly glares from over the seats. Renjun didn’t notice. He was exhausted, and within five minutes of settling into his seat on the bus, he was asleep. Jeno sat next to him this time, and he inconspicuously held his hand by their knees all the way back to Palm Valley.

There were only three weeks to prepare for state championships, and in that short span of time, Renjun thought about little else than tennis. There was practice every day, even on Sundays after church, and he’d already become rusty after resting for several days due to his injury. He knew he had a lot to catch up on. Late at night he pored over the strategy books that Jeno got him from the library. He practiced his form in the mirror until one of his parents came angrily knocking at the door. He talked on the phone with Jeno for hours on end. Sometimes about tennis, sometimes not.

His parents received a call from the school office about the downturn in his grades, which resulted in being grounded for three days. No phone, no science fiction books, no dessert.

However, Renjun was allowed to go study with Jeno.

That’s where he headed on a Tuesday night, the moon half-full and a smattering of stars fighting against the lights of nearby cities. Renjun practically skipped up to the Lee’s front door. He knocked softly on the wood, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence but Jeno. They’d just seen each other, shared a long brush of fingers as they parted at the tennis courts at the end of practice. Renjun hadn’t been able to forget that night they’d spent in the hotel room, damp hair wetting the pillows and breath exchanged through gasping mouths. They’d been rather shy with each other since then, but every little touch felt electric under Renjun’s skin.

Renjun was quickly brought back to Earth when the heavy wooden door creaked open and Renjun was face-to-face with Pastor Lee. He groaned internally.

“Renjun!” He said cheerily. “How are you, my son?”

“I’m well.” He smiled awkwardly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Is Yeeun home?”

Pastor Lee frowned as if in sympathy, but it looked slightly too twisted to resemble any human emotion at all. “She isn’t.”

“Oh.” Renjun feigned disappointment. “Is Jeno here, then?”

“He’s in his room.” Pastor Lee smiled brightly again, stepping aside to let him in. “You know, I’m delighted you two have become friends. You’ve been such a good influence on him.”

“Is that so?” Renjun asked politely, stepping into the house and removing his shoes. The house was deadly silent save for the delicate sound of an acoustic guitar floating down the stairs.

“Yes, he’s been going to church nearly every Sunday! You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but Jeno hadn’t been to church in a long time when you first became friends.”

“Well, perhaps he was a bit misguided.”

Pastor Lee snorted at that. “He’s been a troublemaker since he was a child... I think it’s all he knows. Would you like some tea? It’s rather chilly for a spring night.” Pastor Lee made his way to the fridge, but Renjun was already halfway up the stairs.

“No thank you, Pastor Lee! It was nice speaking with you!” He didn’t wait for a reply, running the rest of the way up the stairs and into Jeno’s room, shutting the door behind him and leaning his head against it.

“Were you running from a lion?”

“Just your dad.” Renjun looked up to see Jeno sitting on the floor hunched over the guitar in his lap. His hair looked a little greasy, like it’d been a couple days since he’d showered. “Is that comfortable?”

“Sure.” Jeno smiled at him. “Come here.”

Renjun sat right next to Jeno on the floor, his legs criss-cross and their knees bumping together. “Are you learning a new song?”

“Nope,” Jeno said, looking at him with a wide grin. “This is mine.”

“Really?” Renjun looked at him starry-eyed, not even caring if it inadvertently stroked Jeno’s ego. It was then that he noticed Jeno’s world history notebook, open in front of him with a series of scrawled out chords in the margins of his notes about World War I. “Wow, Jeno.”

“It’s really rough, barely a song yet.” Jeno rubbed the back of his neck and moved to close his notebook. Before he could, Renjun snatched it up and carefully traced along the smudged graphite with his fingertip. It all looked like jumbled letters and numbers to him, and he didn’t know how Jeno translated it into music.

“They look like ancient runes.” Renjun squinted at the figures. “Can you play it for me?” Renjun asked excitedly. He’d never learned how to play any instruments, his parents being too focused on his performance in school to think of getting him musical training when he was young. He was never allowed to have any of his own records, instead being subjected to his mother’s old, Chinese classics and his father’s noisy jazz. Despite this, he’d always been so enchanted by music. It started in church with the organ and the hymns. He’d landed himself in time-out countless times for humming during silent reading time in kindergarten. Since then, it’d evolved into a love of Jeno and his guitar.

“It’s not finished yet.” Jeno took the notebook from Renjun’s hands and hit him over the head with it.

“I still want to hear it,” Renjun whined, rubbing the top of his head. “Please? Just a little bit?”

Jeno sighed, and Renjun knew he’d already won. He gripped the neck of his guitar, shifting it in his lap. It fit so comfortably in his grasp, and when his fingers began to pluck and press the strings, it sounded as natural as if the tinny strumming was coming from his own lips.

Renjun sat quietly and listened, something he normally wasn’t very good at, but he was so hypnotized by Jeno and his music that he couldn’t form a word if he tried.

It was over much too soon, and when Jeno let the last note hum for a little longer before hushing it with his thumb, Renjun felt tears coming to his eyes. He’d cried too many times in the past few months, so he held them back, only sniffing slightly and clearing his throat to make sure his voice still worked.

“I told you it’s really rough. I’ve been trying to do some fine-tuning but I might just scrap--”

“It’s good.”

“What?”

“I said it’s really good.”

“Well… Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” Renjun shifted uncomfortably, the floor harsh on his tailbone.

“How’s your ankle?”

“It’s fine,” Renjun said softly, as though the air around them was so delicate even the slightest reverb would shatter it.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Renjun couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. He knew they could only keep up their charade for so long, until one of them planted their feet in reality and realized nothing could become of this undefined, freakish relationship they’d managed to maintain up until that point. Renjun knew there would be a day when they’d come crashing back to Earth and Jeno would realize Renjun wasn’t a viable future. He was even more terrified of the day he’d wake up and realize Jeno could never be what he wanted.

“I was wrong.” Renjun’s head fell, as though his neck could no longer support the weight of his head.

“I understand, Jeno. It’s okay.” He felt himself getting choked up. “I mean, it was bound to happen eventually, right?” Renjun raised a trembling hand to his eyes and realized he was shedding tears. f*ck.

“What are you talking about?” Jeno grabbed his hand away from his face and stared transfixed at his wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “Renjun…”

“Stop looking at me like that.” He jerked his arm from Jeno’s grip and wiped his eyes.

“I don’t know what you thought I meant, but it wasn’t that.”

“What are you talking about then?” Renjun asked frustratedly. He held his face in his hands and couldn’t stop a small sob from ripping through his body. He hiccuped, and he’d never felt so humiliated. He heard a hollow sound as Jeno put his guitar onto the floor next to him.

“I’ve changed my mind about love,” Jeno said softly, and Renjun could hear the smile in his voice. “I told you before… that all love isn’t worth it because it’s always doomed to fail.”

“But we are doomed to fail.” Renjun laughed humorlessly, sniffling and wiping the fresh tears off his cheeks. “We are doomed, Jeno.”

“Maybe.” Jeno took his hands and threaded their fingers together. Renjun felt embarrassed. His hands were probably clammy from how much he’d been crying into them and his face was undoubtedly splotchy and red. “But isn’t it worth it?”

“What?”

“Loving.”

Renjun’s lips quirked up on one side. “Are you saying you’re in love with me, Jeno Lee?”

“And what if I am?”

Renjun leaned his chest forward, his hands still entwined with Jeno’s. He kissed him once, chastely and without fireworks or that pleasantly sick feeling in his stomach. Without missing a beat, Jeno leaned in again, pressing his lips gently against Renjun’s, as if sealing an unspoken promise.

“I love you,” Jeno whispered when they parted. Renjun felt the slightest brush of his lips on his when he spoke those words, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He smiled, resting his forehead against Jeno’s. He smelled of teenage boy, and this close up Renjun could see every one of Jeno’s imperfections. Jeno was occasionally standoffish, and persistent to a fault. Jeno sometimes made him run laps around the tennis courts just to be cruel and because he knew Renjun would do it anyways. Jeno was a lost, rejected boy. Yet he was much more of a romantic than he’d ever like to admit.

And despite all his faults, despite all his shortcomings, Renjun loved him too.

That was why, when Renjun leaned in again to place a fiery kiss upon Jeno’s lips, and when he sighed the words into Jeno’s mouth, the door slammed open, stripping them bare, straight down to their immorality. Two tea cups shattered to the ground and a scandalized gasp split Renjun’s heart in two. His fingers were squeezed in his lover's grip before being torn away. There was the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh and a rush of fear like a waterfall.

There was a scream like nails on a chalkboard. Renjun writhed like he was being burned under a magnifying glass.

The lone nail where the cross once hung above Jeno’s bed gleamed like a watchful eye.

May 13th, 1984 -- 6 days till state championships

Renjun and Jeno walked on eggshells around each other for the rest of the week. Too scared to do more than gasp out quick greetings through bated breaths.

The day after Pastor Lee had caught them kissing in Jeno’s bedroom, Jeno had shown up to homeroom with a bruised cheek, and when Mr. Moon asked him what had happened, he’d vaguely mumbled something about a tennis accident and said no more. Renjun sat helplessly to the side.

It hurt Renjun to see him like that, but it hurt even more when he’d gone to their hidden pocket of the library during lunch to find that he wasn’t there. A thin layer of dust had collected on the tabletop, and Renjun wiped it away with the sleeve of his jacket.

He sat in his old seat in the cafeteria, squished between Yangyang and Guanheng. They were loud, which he normally would’ve found bothersome, but Renjun found the noise strangely comforting. They rambled on about theatre and everything Renjun had missed.

They questioned him, too. They were all gossips, so their needling wasn’t much of a surprise. They asked him where he’d been during lunch period, why he was spending so much time with Jeno Lee, if he was really going to be playing at the tennis state championships. Eventually, they grew bored of his vague, noncommittal answers and moved onto other topics. Namely, Donghyuck and his treacherous abandonment of their lunch table. They tore him apart, slandering him and Mark Lee in a single breath. Renjun wondered if they’d said the same things about him in his absence.

It was about halfway through the lunch period when Renjun happened to catch his eyes from across the cafeteria. Jeno sat in his varsity jacket, surrounded by his teammates from the football team. It was strange. Renjun hated seeing Jeno putting on such a façade when he knew exactly what was beneath the cheap felt fabric of that jacket, and it was vulnerability in its finest form.

They danced around each other at practice and in the hallways. Renjun knew it wasn't because they no longer loved each other, but because their reckoning had finally come. He'd known their peace wouldn't last long. Just like Kun, Renjun was repenting for his sins. Except this time, the consequences didn't make him feel sorry. All he felt was scared.

---

When Renjun's father piled into the car with them on Sunday morning, Renjun steeled himself. His father hadn’t accompanied them to church since his baptism. This would be no normal day of church, Renjun knew that much. He sat up a little straighter, fixed his tie, made sure his shirt was properly tucked into his slacks. Whatever was going to happen under the roof of that God-forsaken church, he’d face it with the utmost dignity. Well, as much dignity as one could have whilst walking into their own grave.

The church service went as normal. Renjun dutifully sang along with the hymns and prayed to God for forgiveness he didn't deserve. When the service ended and the congregation began to clear, Renjun and his parents sat stiffly and silently in the pew, unmoving. When the last churchgoer left, Pastor Lee appeared in front of them, more like a pale, bony apparition rather than a man. He looked grim, and he regarded Renjun with a look of utmost pity, like he was a starved dog.

He led them to a back room in the church he'd never seen before, one with no windows. All the light came from a flickering orange lamp in the corner that threw strange shadows on the old wooden walls. It must’ve been Pastor Lee’s office, as there was a rickety desk piled high with scripts and a Bible lying face-down on the surface, its pages visibly crumpled with misuse. There was a circle of five metal foldable chairs set up in the center of the room. Jeno was already seated in one of them, slumped over his own chest like he was guarding his heart.

Renjun sat across from him, desperately trying to catch his eye. He didn't look up, and Renjun's heart ached at the rejection.

"Thank you for making it, Professor," Pastor Lee said amicably to Renjun's father. "Now, this is going to be a very difficult conversation for all parties involved, but I, as your pastor, feel that it is necessary that it be addressed as swiftly as possible so we can make a plan of action."

Renjun's father nodded stiffly. Renjun's mother sat with lost, doe-eyes and a tired back.

"Let's get started." Pastor Lee smiled brightly as he sat down in his seat, which squeaked unpleasantly under his weight. "Now, Professor, I already explained the situation to you over the phone."

"Indeed," Renjun's dad responded gruffly.

"Now, does Renjun have a history of sexual deviancy?" Pastor Lee had a small black journal and a thin, silver pen trapped in his bony fingers. "Typically these things can be caught and predicted from a young age. Any mentions of crushes on boys, or perhaps infatuation with male celebrities or teachers?" Renjun felt ill.

"Renjun has always been a perfectly normal young man," his dad said flatly. Renjun peered fearfully at his face. It was unreadable, as it usually was. His spectacles glowed ominously in the orange light of the room. Renjun tore his gaze away, too ashamed of himself to look at the face of his father for more than a few seconds.

"Jeno has been disobedient since his early days," Pastor Lee said dourly. "Sometimes I wonder if he really is my son." It was supposed to be a joke, but it landed flat, and the room was so silent Renjun could hear a fly buzzing in distress from across the room, caught in a cobweb and being slowly advanced upon by a spindly-legged spider.

"You wish," Jeno snarked suddenly, and Pastor Lee clenched his fist on his thigh.

"Shut it you--"

"It's not Jeno's fault," Renjun blurted, noticing the way Jeno had cowered away from his father. Even in the dim light, Renjun could see the bruises on his arms, in the shape of long, bony fingers. "I asked him to kiss me. No, I forced him to kiss me."

His father turned his silver stare towards him. He didn't care anymore what the consequences were, he wouldn't frame Jeno and let him take the brunt of the blame.

"Have you had hom*osexual desires before, Renjun?" Pastor Lee asked, his eyes piercing him like a predator honing in on its prey.

"I thought maybe if I went to church enough, that they'd go away, but they never did." Pastor Lee looked at him with an expression somewhere between disgust and pity.

"As your pastor, Renjun, you can always feel free to talk to me for private counseling." Pastor Lee jotted something down in his notebook. "If that's really the case, I have a few suggestions of how we can move forward, with your permission of course." Pastor Lee awaited Renjun's father's agreement. When he nodded, Pastor Lee smiled jauntily and scribbled more notes in his journal. "I would first like to suggest an immersive treatment program my fellow pastor runs in the city. It's a month-long camp to help teach boys how to... control and quash their deviant desires. There are two sessions in the summer, and I think it would suit Renjun well to attend." Pastor Lee passed them a brochure.

"That's all?" Renjun's dad asked.

Pastor Lee flipped through his notebook nervously. "Of course, if you're anxious to get it taken care of sooner, I can provide some weekly one-on-one counseling with Renjun. He's a boy with a lot of potential, and I'd hate for him to fall through the cracks."

Renjun stayed silent, his eyes fixed on his shoelaces. They were the same pristine, shiny shoes he’d worn when he’d escaped with Jeno to the plum orchard. He wished they were there now, in each other’s embrace and with the breeze carding through their hair. The stagnant air of the church suddenly felt suffocating, and Renjun realized he hadn’t been breathing.

"Of course, Jeno and Renjun shouldn't be allowed to be around each other any longer, to avoid further fuelling their… fantasies."

"But we have classes together," Jeno cut in. "We're on the same tennis team, how do you expect us to not see each other?"

"You think there are no consequences to your wrongdoings?" Pastor Lee said scathingly, turning those austere eyes toward Jeno. "I’ve already contacted Coach Albert. You will not be participating in the tennis club anymore, boy."

"That's not fair!" Renjun said suddenly. "If anything, I should quit the team. Jeno's the captain and he's our best player."

Pastor Lee looked surprised for a moment before he burst out in laughter. "My boy, you seem to not understand the weight of your actions. I'd say I'm being lenient, wouldn't you?" He looked at Jeno’s broken expression with a glint of something sinister and sad*stic in his eye. Jeno looked gutted, like the wind had been knocked out of him. He nodded stiffly, and Pastor Lee smiled at Renjun, cold mirth in his eyes. "I hope your parents will also punish you accordingly, Renjun. I know it may be painful in the short term, but in order to cure you of your ailments, you'll need to make some sacrifices."

"We’ll be off, Mr. Lee." Renjun's dad stood up abruptly, dusting off his creased khakis and straightening the maroon sweater vest that stretched over his beer belly. "Let's go, Renjun." Renjun scrambled up from his chair, glancing at Jeno worriedly. He stared vacantly at the opposite corner of the room, where the fly had ceased its buzzing and was devoured by the hungry spider.

"Can I schedule a few one-on-one sessions with Renjun before you leave? I'd do the first one for free, but after that I usually charge around twenty dollars an hour plus--"

"We're not interested," Renjun's dad said curtly.

"Well," Pastor Lee sputtered, "since you've been such wonderful patrons of the church I suppose I could make an exception. How does ten dollars an hour sound?"

"We can take care of things ourselves."

"Sir, I wouldn't suggest letting such things go unchecked," Pastor Lee said, an edge to his voice that made Jeno flinch. "If action isn't taken as soon as possible to combat these... perverse tendencies, they'll persist for a lifetime. Being caught once isn't enough to get rid of them. I need time to dig down deep and uproot it at the source."

"I am not a spiritual man, Mr. Lee--"

"Pastor Lee," he corrected, gritting his teeth.

"Pastor Lee. I am not a spiritual man, and I see no point in wasting my money on so-called treatments that have zero basis in science."

Pastor Lee looked at him in shock, his lips practically trembling with rage. He cleared his throat, slipped his mask back on. "I can't force you to do anything, but I will only warn you once: if you don't take the necessary measures to protect your son from his mortal sin, he will be damned to hell."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lee." He turned the brass doorknob and opened the door, tilting his head as an indication for Renjun to leave. Renjun ducked out of the room without looking back. His mother followed close behind, a grim look on her face. He momentarily prayed for Jeno, but as they filed out of the church, a loud crashing sound resounded from the back room. He felt a shiver run down his spine, cold as ice. On the silent drive home, he questioned God's existence for the very first time in his life.

May 14th, 1984 -- 5 days till state championships

Renjun didn’t expect Jeno to show up to school the next day. There were only so many bruises he could excuse away before someone noticed. However, he was sitting in his usual seat in homeroom, a big hoodie swallowing his form as he held his head in his hands. He looked haggard, his back frozen in the same slump it’d been in when he last saw him at the church.

He sat silently next to him, wondering if he should say something. He didn’t have the words to comfort Jeno. He didn’t even know if Jeno wanted comfort. He stared at him with his chin resting on his palm. He wanted to reach out, his fingers itched for it, but instead he bent down and pulled a book from his backpack so he could pretend to read until class began.

He stared blankly at the page, acutely aware of the clock ticking over the door and how slow the seconds seemed to pass. Jeno moved and sighed. The memory of Jeno’s breath by his ear had become so distant. He could only faintly remember what it felt like to have that pleasant heat build in his gut when Jeno touched him. It was so faint Renjun could probably convince himself it had never happened. All of the sudden, it didn’t feel like Jeno ever loved him at all.

He chewed on his lip as he stared at the same words on the page, slowly becoming blurry and indiscernible. Renjun wondered if he was doomed from the beginning. It felt like his life was one cruel ruse, starting from the first time he felt his heart beat for another boy in the seventh grade.

He wondered what kind of evil God would give him the capacity to love someone so deeply, then rip it away when he was only just opening up to its warmth. It made him angry, and he somehow understood how angry people like Pastor Lee were made.

He dabbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, worried that his tears would fall and blot the ink. Suddenly, the words on the page were eclipsed, and a small white slip of paper was dropped onto his book. He looked over at Jeno, but he had retreated back into his hoodie again.

He carefully unfolded the note, and he felt his breath catch in his throat when he read the words.

Courts at midnight.

---

Renjun pedaled through the night air, wind whipping his hair out of his eyes and buzzing like ice on his skin. He was whizzing through the streets, as fast as he could go. He was running late, having accidentally nodded off while revising for English literature. He wasn’t sure what Jeno wanted from him, what he could only say under the cover of night. The streetlights flickered above him ominously. He shivered, his trusty denim jacket doing little to stave off the cold.

Renjun had his hopes for this little rendez-vous, of course. He imagined Jeno embracing him under the harsh gaze of the floodlights, so bright they could pretend it was daylight. He’d whisper in his ear and he’d remember what it felt like to have Jeno so warm and close.

He flew through the quiet streets of the town. There was no one walking their dogs or children playing or men mowing their immaculate front lawns. The streetlights offered a gentle orange glow, which cast over the houses like lost monuments, standing beyond their time and hiding the clandestine affairs of human life within their walls. Renjun supposed every house did have its secrets. If only plaster and wood could speak. Maybe his relationship with Jeno would look pure in comparison.

When Renjun finally reached the courts, Jeno sat alone on one of the courtsiders. The same one they’d kissed on over a month ago after Spring Fling. He remembered how scared he’d been. How hard it was to be honest with himself, to let himself be selfish when all he’d been taught since he was little was that selfishness would land you in Hell. He let his bike crash to the ground, and Jeno looked up in surprise. He looked tired, with heavy dark circles gracing the undersides of his eyes. Renjun wanted to reach up and smear them away, like they were made of ink.

Renjun jogged the rest of the way over to him, stopping himself when he was a few feet away. He had no idea what was running through Jeno’s head; he had no idea how close he was allowed to be.

“Hi,” Renjun said, a little breathless from the bike ride.

“Hi.” Jeno waved with his hand still stuck deep into the pocket of his jacket. “I thought you weren’t gonna come.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought maybe you’d come to your senses.” Renjun shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t call you here to just stand around.” Jeno thrusted a racquet at him, and Renjun stood staring at it in confusion.

“What’s this?”

“State is this weekend. I’m not going to be there, and if we want to win I better whip you into shape.”

“Jeno, what about--”

“We can talk after you kick ass at championships.” Jeno extended the racquet further, waiting for Renjun to take it. “It’s my racquet. I don’t need it anymore.” Renjun took it, held the grip in his right hand and felt the grooves from Jeno’s fingers. It didn’t fit like his own, but there was something comforting about feeling the spaces Jeno had left from so much use. It was a racquet that had history, and it wasn’t just any history. It was distinctly Jeno’s.

“You made me come here just to give me this?” Renjun held the racquet like it was made of glass, like Jeno had pressed a precious family heirloom into his palm.

“Of course not.” Jeno picked up the other racquet laying on the courtsider, a small, battered little thing with peeling paint. “The boys at state are dogs. We have some training to do if you don’t want to get ripped apart.”

May 19th, 1984 -- 0 days till state championships

The morning of state championships, Renjun awoke with a cold sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was partly due to nervousness about the games, but it was also because it was the first time he would ever compete without Jeno’s calming presence by his side. It was slightly unnerving, how reliant he’d become on Jeno. Not just as his pupil, but as a friend. It had been a while since Renjun had considered Jeno a friend. If you removed the kissing and the longing looks that’s really all they were. Friends. It seemed too mild a word for how Renjun felt about him, but three months ago he never would’ve believed that he would become friends with the Jeno Lee. It was funny how God liked to pull strings like that. Renjun was beginning to believe he was just a glorified puppetmaster with a rotten sense of humor.

Renjun stretched while the sun rose outside his window. He would be piling onto another noisy school bus, except this time there would be no one to share secretive glances with over the backs of the seats. He had nothing to hide. Renjun was going to state championships with no secrets. Just him, his racquet, and his resolve. He slipped on the uncomfortably tight uniform shorts, tugging them down to reach his mid-thigh. He looked at himself in the mirror and he saw a changed man. His legs looked somehow more muscular. His arms appeared to have bulked up from Coach Albert’s rigorous training sessions. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but his chest seemed to fill out the bust of his jersey much more than it had on the day of their first match.

His mother kissed his cheeks goodbye, even though they had become gaunt from worry and guilt. He nibbled on an apple as he went out the door, hefting both his tennis bag and a heavy backpack onto his shoulder. An apple was all he could stomach. He waved a silent hand to his father, who sat at the dining table reading a book through his spectacles. Mr. Huang did not raise his head to watch him leave, but Renjun couldn’t find it within himself to care. He hopped on his bicycle, as many adventures in his life had begun, and started off towards Palm Valley High School.

---

Departing the bus felt like entering an entirely different world. The tennis state championships that year were being held at a prestigious country club in Los Altos, and its tennis courts sprawled on the peak of a grassy hill. If Renjun squinted, he thought he might be able to see the buildings of San Francisco, glimmering like grey shards of glass on the horizon.

There were many important-looking people bustling around. Blonde men in white polo shirts smiled toothily at them as they lugged their belongings off the bus. There were several moms setting up folding chairs and unpacking fruit trays from ice-blue coolers. There were men in baseball caps with yellow pads of paper, furiously noting things down with tiny pens.

“Think you’re ready, Renjun?” Jaemin sidled up next to him suddenly, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” He shrugged. He’d been practicing almost nonstop since he’d met Jeno late on Monday night. For the remainder of the week, he’d gotten up early to practice serves alone in the morning, went to regular practice after school where he’d train with Jaemin, then he’d go to his secret nightly one-on-one sessions with Jeno. He should’ve been exhausted, but instead he felt acutely aware of his surroundings, of the weight of the racquet in his hand, and of the heavy sense of duty in his heart. His nails were bitten down, and his lips were cracked and scabby.

“You’ll do great, Renjun,” Jaemin said cheerfully, “and without Jeno here I’ll actually be able to win first place.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

“Tennis is a solo game.” Jaemin removed his arm from his shoulders and ruffled Renjun’s hair. “We may seem like a team, but it’s every man for himself out there.”

“How encouraging,” Renjun said sarcastically. “You make such a great stand-in captain.”

Jaemin just laughed, and Renjun felt his lips quirk up a bit at the edges. Jaemin was a rich, self-serving bastard, but he wasn’t mean. In fact, he might be one of the most welcoming people he’d ever met.

“Can I tell you something?” Renjun asked suddenly, without really knowing what it was he wanted to say.

“Sure,” Jaemin said casually, standing on his tip toes and scanning the area, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Jeno wasn’t booted from the tennis club for getting into a fistfight.”

“Really?” Jaemin came back to Earth, looking Renjun right in the eyes. “Why, then?”

“His father caught us kissing,” Renjun said flatly, as if he was reporting the weather. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous. He bit his lip and looked up at Jaemin through squinting eyes, trying to gauge his reaction.

Jaemin only looked surprised for a moment, before steeling himself again and smiling. “I should’ve known you two were a couple of hom*os,” he said teasingly. He busied himself with digging through his backpack for his visor, probably just to avoid making eye contact with him.

“Shut the f*ck up.” Renjun rolled his eyes.

“I don’t care, if that’s what you wanted to know.” Jaemin slipped his visor over his hair and took a sip from his water bottle in a manner almost too nonchalant. He leaned against the chain link fence cooly. “You guys deserve happiness, it’s not really my business how you find it. You get me?”

Renjun swallowed dryly. “Yeah, I get you.” Jaemin awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

“They’re about to post the first round of matches, we should go.”

“Okay.” Renjun nodded in agreement and followed him to the hub, where there were two plastic tables set up near the entrance of the tennis courts. One for the singles tournament, and one for the doubles. Despite seeming so nondescript, dozens crowded around them, trying to get a glimpse of the initial brackets. Renjun was glad the day wasn’t so hot, but it was only nine in the morning, and things were destined to heat up quickly when they were so close to the sun. Not to mention the constant breeze, which would prove to be a challenge in his upcoming matches.

The previous day, Coach Albert had briefed them on what state championships would look like. There would be four rounds of matches, and the first three would all take place on the first day. The second day of championships was reserved solely for the match for third place and, of course, the final showdown. For anyone unlucky enough to lose in the first round, they would be entered into the consolation bracket for an opportunity to win the grand title of “consolation winner.” Renjun shuddered at the thought. As long as he could get through the first round, he wouldn’t have to suffer such a fate.

The first round was set to start at nine-thirty, and the crowd of boys anxiously checked their watches in anticipation as they waited. There was little chatter, and most of the boys looked almost solemn. Jaemin stood at his side, and Renjun suddenly missed Jeno. He was on-edge, felt out of his depth, there was nothing to ground him. He felt the spaces in his racquet Jeno’s fingers had left behind. They were almost like footprints in the sand, telling a story of where he’d been and how far he’d come. Renjun imagined Jeno standing in this very spot four years ago as a freshman, smaller and more naive. They’d been children then, although Renjun guessed they hadn’t really changed that much.

He was startled out of his musings by the high-pitched squeal of a megaphone. One of the blonde, polo-wearing men was standing on a chair, surveying the crowd. When the clock struck nine-thirty, he began calling out names. Renjun listened with bated breath as the man droned on, name after name. When “Renjun Huang” finally crackled through the megaphone, he nearly gasped out. Court four. He hadn’t even noticed the man had horribly butchered his name.

Renjun walked to court four like a zombie, the cool breeze doing very little to calm his frayed nerves. He set his things on the courtsider and greeted his opponent. One of them would be going to the consolation bracket. He seemed like a nice boy, but Renjun wasn’t going to lose the first round with Jeno’s racquet in his hand.

No, that would be sacrilegious.

---

Renjun’s first match, despite his nerves, went by in the blink of an eye. He won both sets 6-0. His poor opponent happened to be terrible at serving. And returning. And just about everything in between. He could only pray for whatever team he had come from if he was one of their top four. He wouldn’t though, since that’d be counterproductive.

With a renewed sense of confidence, Renjun wasted away the time between round one and quarterfinals by visiting the vending machine for a co*ke. He felt like he deserved it. The carbonated sugar rush was helpful in waking him up, and when a different blonde-haired, polo-wearing man brandished his megaphone, Renjun’s listened eagerly, suddenly giddy with the thrill of competition.

He was still on his victory high when he met his new opponent. His name was Jake, and he was from the rich private school with the fancy uniforms, the very first school they’d competed against that season. He stood by the net in his perfectly matching adidas tracksuit, almost looking bored. He tugged impatiently on the sweatbands around his wrists. Jake had a defined jawline and a ruggedly handsome face uncharacteristic of a teenage boy.

“Do you need to warm up, or can we just get started?” He asked, almost patronizing. Renjun narrowed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air. It did little to calm him. As the day went on, the sun had begun to heat the air, making it drier and more arid. Renjun could feel his jersey clinging to his skin where he’d begun to sweat.

“I’m plenty warm,” he replied in an attempt to seem somewhat friendly. It was never ideal to go into a tennis match with preexisting animosity. It would only morph into something larger on the court.

“Let’s not waste our time then,” Jake said definitively. “You can serve first if you want, since I’ll win either way.”

Renjun gawked as he got into position to receive on the other side of the court, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and his knees bent. His racquet was drawn, and if it was a fight he wanted, Renjun would give it to him.

“First set, zero-zero, love all,” he called clearly before his first serve. Jeno would’ve been proud. It was a low serve, zipping just above the net with just enough topspin to make it a loose cannon. It landed by Jake’s feet, and he scrambled to get his racquet under it in time. It bounced, and his racquet scraped noisily against the surface of the court as he made a desperate attempt at returning it, but the ball caught on the bumper guard and was flung straight into the net.

Without missing a beat, Renjun crossed to the other side of the court for the next serve.

“Fifteen-love.” He served again, a beautiful, clean shot straight into the back corner of the service box. Renjun patted himself on the back for a job well done, the words ‘thirty-love’ on the tip of his tongue.

“That serve was out.” A shout came from across the courts. Jake looked a bit flustered, his cheeks reddening and his chest visibly rising and falling with the force of his breathing. Renjun knew his serve wasn’t out.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Tennis was a game of integrity. If his opponent insisted that the ball was out, Renjun was forced to accept that as truth.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He chuckled. “You still have a second, don’t worry,” he said patronizingly.

Renjun’s hand clenched around his racquet as he moved back to the left side of the court. That time, when he served, it went straight into the net. Even from across the expanse of the court, he could see a glint of mirth in Jake’s eye.

It didn’t get much better from there.

He didn’t call Renjun’s shots out every time; it was just enough so that he couldn’t be accused of cheating. This serve was too wide, that shot too long, this shot was just outside the line. Renjun struggled to remain calm when they reached the end of the first set. On paper, he’d lost 4-6, but he knew that wasn’t really the case.

They both took a break in between sets to drink some water and regain their strength. Jake looked pleased with himself, and the cheerful smile on his face was enough to make Renjun’s blood boil.

“So, do you typically win matches by cheating?” Renjun asked casually, unscrewing the top of his water bottle. Jake looked at him in shock, seemingly lost for words before he collected his wits.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You know that threatening your opponent can get you kicked out of the tournament, right?”

Renjun took a sip of his water. It was warm from sitting out in the sun, and he would’ve grimaced if he hadn’t been trying to intimidate the boy right in front of him. “Winning the tournament doesn’t mean anything to me if I haven’t earned it.”

“Don’t try to stand on the moral high ground.” Jake chugged some of his water and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand unattractively. That track suit might’ve been expensive, but Renjun couldn’t imagine it was worth wearing in the sweltering heat. “If you really cared about pride, you would be winning.”

“You don’t have an ounce of pride in your body.” Renjun laughed, getting up from where he was sitting on the courtsider and standing close to Jake’s front. He wasn’t as tall as him, so he had to tilt his chin up to meet his eyes.

“Are you trying to scare me, Shorty?”

“Clearly you’re terrified of me,” Renjun whispered. They were close enough that Jake would be able to hear him, almost chest-to-chest. “If you weren’t such a scared little bitch, you would’ve called my shots in.”

“What did you just call me?” He spoke through gritted teeth. Renjun knew the inner monologue of an insecure boy well. He knew exactly what buttons to press, and he could tell he was just a few more words away from tearing him apart.

“You may have the looks, you may have the money, and you may have the conniving spirit of a winner, but every victory is a loss when you cheated your way to the top. If you were a real man, you would forfeit the game to me and tell your coach you’re a lying little weasel who can’t return a serve to save his life.” Renjun caught his breath; he’d been too angry to remember to breathe. The silence stretched on for a bit too long, and just as Renjun was about to suggest they go on with the next set, he feels a sickening impact on his left cheek. He heard a loud crunching sound in his ears, followed by a high-pitched buzzing and pain blooming from his cheekbone. He took a few steps back, both from the force of the blow and from shock. He bent over himself and held his cheek in his hand.

Around him he could hear shouting and a hand resting on his back. He lifted his head to see Coach Albert standing at his side. The tennis matches around them had all come to a halt, and everyone watched with bated breath to see what would happen next.

Jake was talking to his coach, animatedly gesturing with his arms as he undoubtedly fabricated a narrative that would paint him as the villain. He hissed as an ice-cold bottle of gatorade was pressed to his tender cheek.

“You okay, kiddo?” Coach Albert asked, squinting at his cheek from under his baseball cap. “Looks like he really decked ya, huh?”

“He did, Coach.” Renjun chuckled, bringing his fingers up to touch the sore spot on his cheek. “He was calling all my shots out. I told him he was a coward and he came at me.”

“Well, this’ll go to the referees. You might both be disqualified.”

“At least he won’t get to the semifinals.” Renjun looked over to see Jake dramatically knock his partially-open water bottle off the courtsider and send its contents spraying over the coaches and referees that had gathered around him. He was yelling something about provocation and sabotage.

Needless to say, Jake didn’t move onto semifinals, but Renjun did.

He had mixed feelings at first. He hadn’t really played his way into that position. However, he was fairly certain that he would’ve beaten Jake anyways if they’d stood on equal ground.

He only had a ten minute break before semifinals would begin, mainly because they were trying to get the matches out of the way before the temperature would peak at around three o’clock.

There was an ice cream truck parked outside the tennis club, so he dug a little bit of change out of his tennis bag and jogged over to it. He got a vanilla soft-serve and stood under the shade of one of the small, meticulously pruned trees that shaded the sidewalk. He watched through the fence as the last few matches of quarterfinals came to a close.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly said to his right. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I didn’t realize we were on speaking terms.” Donghyuck looked tired and sweaty with a cherry popsicle in his hand. It was melting quickly, running down the wooden stick and onto his hand in red rivulets. Donghyuck didn’t seem to care much. He’d lived a messy enough life that sticky fingers were the least of his concerns.

“I just wanted to say good luck.” He sucked noisily on the popsicle. “I probably shouldn’t have said you didn’t deserve to be in varsity. You kinda kick ass.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Donghyuck said carelessly, although Renjun could tell he was trying a little too hard to seem indifferent. “If you win your semifinals match, I’ll watch you in the finals.”

“Everyone is going to watch the finals.”

“Well, I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Thanks.”

Donghyuck threw the remains of his popsicle on the hot pavement. It melted into a puddle almost instantaneously. Renjun watched as the last crystal of ice disappeared, and by the time he looked up, Donghyuck was gone.

---

There were only two matches in the semifinals: four players, two victors would move onto the finals, two losers would compete for third place. It felt somewhat comforting that, no matter how badly Renjun did, the semifinals would not be his last match at state championships. He set his tennis bag on the courtsider. His opponent wasn’t there yet, so he bounced a spare ball on his racquet for a while out of boredom. When that got old, he did a few stretches to warm up his legs and to get his body into the zone after his ice cream break. It probably hadn’t been the best idea; the temporary relief it had given him wasn’t worth the churning sickness forming in his gut. The sun beat down mercilessly on the back of his neck. Renjun was sure he’d wake up in the morning with red, aching skin.

The eliminated players were starting to gather at the fenceline now, where they had a good vantage point of both matches. Renjun checked his watch. Their match was supposed to start three minutes earlier, but his opponent was nowhere to be found. He’d missed the announcement while he was finding purchase in the shade. Maybe Coach Albert had sent him to court two instead of court twelve. He did have terrible hearing.

Just as Renjun was about to go check with the referees, a familiar face came through the gate, smiling jovially at him from under the lip of a visor.

“Junnie! What a pleasure.” Jaemin cordially shook Renjun’s hand, leisurely setting up his things on the courtsider, taking a long swig from his gatorade. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

“You’re late,” Renjun grumbled.

“Fashionably late.” Jaemin poised his racquet perpendicular to the concrete. “Up or down, Junnie?”

“Up. And don’t call me Junnie.”

---

The week that he had spent training with Jaemin seemed to be paying off. Renjun had a talent for finding patterns in his opponents’ gameplay and strategy, and he’d had plenty of time to analyze Jaemin. For instance, Jaemin’s serves were hard, fast, and difficult to return, but they were also predictable. His backhand was always a little less precise than his forehand. While Jaemin was strong, he was also slow, and a well-placed cross-court was enough to get him off his game. It gave him only a slight edge, since Jaemin knew his weaknesses just as intimately.

Renjun had expected to lose to Jaemin spectacularly. If he could nearly best Jeno in a tennis match, Renjun felt there was little to no hope in winning. He’d only been able to beat Jeno in a game of tennis once, and that had been a fluke more than anything else. Renjun had considered giving in and resigning to the loss, maybe it’d help conserve his energy for the third-place-competition tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Jaemin was too much of a taunting little imp, and Renjun so desperately wanted to beat him.

The first set went to Jaemin fairly easily. 2-6. Renjun didn’t like those numbers. He felt himself grow increasingly more competitive as Jaemin flipped the score cards. He didn’t like losing. He sifted through his brain for every small shred of advice that Jeno had given him. Watch the ball as it hits your racquet, let your body do the work, pay attention to your opponent, square your hips, play one point at a time.

“You look like you’re about to explode,” Jaemin said snarkily while sipping from his water bottle. “Have you had enough already?”

“You wish.” Renjun punched him on the arm, then panickedly looked around to make sure the referee hadn’t seen.

“You’ve been doing well, Renjunnie,” Jaemin assured him. “I’m just better.”

When they got into position for the next set, Jaemin’s words rattled around inside his head, and that’s when he realized that’s exactly what Jaemin wanted. Jaemin didn’t save the game for the court. He liked to sow the seeds of self-doubt, to seem perfect in almost every way. Renjun did admit Jaemin Na seemed untouchable, with his big, white house and pearly smile and effortless self-assurance. However, he suspected that under all that pseudo-confidence, there was just a competitive little boy. No different than him. It was all just a part of the intimidation game they all loved to play. Little boys puffing up their chests.

Renjun won the next set 7-5, and Jaemin’s illusion was beginning to fade. They were both exhausted, and the sun beat down sweltering hot. Jaemin panted and wiped the sweat off his brow. His handsome face had become red with exertion and he called for a break twice in the second set. Renjun could feel sweat running down his temple as he played, tickling his neck and disappearing into his jersey.

The crowd watching the games had dissipated, probably deciding it wasn’t worth the possible heatstroke.

The third set started out rocky. Renjun was so tired that he struggled to run for the cross-court shots. His strength was quickly fizzling out, like a cherry popsicle on hot pavement. When the score reached 0-4, Renjun called for another water break. He felt exhausted, and he considered just forfeiting the match to Jaemin. In the end, he deserved it anyway; he’d been playing much longer than Renjun had.

He poured some water into his cupped hand and spread it on his arms and forehead, letting the slight breeze cool his skin. He scanned the other side of the fence. The few spectators that remained weren’t sitting on the edges of their seats. Their game so far had been largely slowgoing and uninteresting. The parents conversed amongst themselves with beer bottles held loosely in their hands. Renjun imagined the rest of the players had probably gone to the hotel. Perhaps they were swimming or taking a nap on a big, cushy mattress in an air-conditioned room. Renjun envied them, but his focus was soon elsewhere when he spotted a familiar baseball cap behind the fence. He raised a hand to wave, but froze when he caught a glimpse of the face beneath the lip of the hat.

It was not the kind, wrinkled face of Coach Albert. It was Jeno.

“Renjun? Can we finish now?” Jaemin asked, standing at the net. He looked almost concerned, maybe he thought Renjun was on the verge of passing out.

“Yes.” He swallowed dryly. “I think we should finish.”

Knowing that Jeno was behind the fence watching him changed things. He knew it shouldn’t, but it did. There was the boy that had invested so much time, so many selfless hours, trying to prepare him for this moment. Yet Renjun stood on the right side of the fence, slacking in the state semifinals. He felt a wave of shame rush over him that was much hotter than the sun.

Jeno’s eyes burned into him throughout the rest of the game. Every missed shot felt like he was personally letting him down. Renjun wasn’t caught slacking again. He ignored the sweat as it tickled his neck and his chest. He ignored the unbearable fatigue that was building in his legs.

The score in the third set reached 5-6. Either Jaemin would win the next game and move on to the finals, or Renjun would win and they would go into a 7-point tiebreaker.

It was probably the most intense fight of his life. They played to deuce, and the spectators behind the fence no longer chatted and sipped on their beers with one eye on the courts. The other team had already finished their match, and all eyes were on them. People spoke in hushed voices, tracing the ball with their eyes point after point.

It was Renjun’s serve. Jaemin was receiving on the right side of the court, his face hard with no smile in sight. His hips rocked side to side slightly as he bounced on the balls of his feet. The air was still, not the slightest breeze. Renjun didn’t think he could breathe if he tried. His hand was shaking when he took the ball and rested it against the racquet by his knee. He wasn’t sure why that was a part of the serve sequence. Maybe it was something like a prayer. A moment of still calmness, the ball simply resting against the strings, before it was vaulted into the air.

Renjun served, Jaemin returned. He could feel it all now: the wind, the gasps of the onlookers, the addicting tremor he felt in his hand when the ball connected with his racquet.

Jaemin hit a cross-court, and Renjun didn’t make it in time.

The crowd erupted into cheers, likely just because they were finally free from the oppressive heat. Renjun was still standing on the court, where the ball had bounced. Where he hadn’t been when he needed to be. Jaemin was approaching the net with his smug smile and a hand outstretched. He could feel rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He felt guilty when he looked to the fence and saw Jeno standing stalk still in front of the backdrop of cheering onlookers.

Renjun couldn’t claim he wasn’t used to loss. He’d experienced enough loss, anger, and guilt for a lifetime. Jaemin looked at him expectantly. It was custom to shake the hand of your opponent after a match, but to Renjun it felt like accepting defeat

Renjun glanced behind him again, to see Jeno standing silently, stoically at the fenceline. He wanted to apologize. His face burned in shame.

He didn’t think about it beforehand, the culmination of guilt, anger, and fear that had clutched him for so long suddenly hitting him in the chest like a ton of bricks. Renjun gripped his racquet, raised it into the air, and smashed it down onto the pavement. It bounced once, before clattering down unceremoniously to the ground a few feet away. The frame was badly bent, and a few of the strings had broken. It was unusable, gone. It wasn’t even his to break.

Renjun looked to the crowd of people, who observed him like a wild animal in a cage. They looked on with shocked, scandalized eyes. They whispered amongst themselves, their light, breathy voices carried by the breeze. They backed away from the fenceline, their cheering ceased. A child peered at him from behind his mother’s legs, half in fear and half in fascination.

But Renjun wasn’t an animal in a cage. He was just a scared little boy.

---

As soon as Renjun made it back to the hotel, he tucked himself into one of the narrow twin beds and wallowed between the sheets. The room began to grow dark, and his stomach started to rumble, but he paid no mind. Chenle and Jisung had tried to get him to come to the celebratory dinner with the rest of the team, but he’d opted to stay behind and rest instead. He claimed he’d need it for his match tomorrow, but the truth was that he didn’t want to face the other boys yet. Especially not Jaemin.

He groaned, shoving his face into the pillow as the moment he lost the match played over and over behind his eyelids like a stuck record. If he had just been a little faster, if he had positioned himself a little farther to the right…

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Renjun groaned again, louder so that the intruder would be able to hear. Chenle had probably forgotten his room key.

Renjun pulled himself up from the bed with as much difficulty as if his limbs were made of iron. He peered through the tiny peephole, expecting to see Chenle, but was met with the distorted face of Jeno Lee. His breath hitched and he took a step away from the door. He wasn't sure why Jeno was there or how he'd found his room, but he was suddenly scared to face him. He'd watched him lose and then smash his racquet on the court like a spoiled toddler.

That one part of him was embarrassed, but the other part really wanted to see him. He grasped the cold door handle, and after only a beat of hesitation, he flung it open. He studied Jeno’s face for a moment. He had yellowing bruises on his face and a cut on his upper lip, open and red from the strain of his smile.

"Hey," he said softly, like he was worried someone might hear them. "Can I come in?" Renjun silently moved to the side, and Jeno awkwardly sat down on Chenle’s bed.

"I didn't know you were going to come." Renjun sat on the other bed, plenty of distance between them. "I'm really sorry."

"I had to support my team." Jeno shrugged. "Why are you sorry?"

"I lost."

"Didn't I tell you losing is a natural part of tennis?"

"I smashed your racquet."

"I didn't care about that old thing. That racquet was the only gift my dad has ever given me. I'm glad it's gone."

Renjun chewed on his thumbnail and stared at the ugly floral wallpaper. "I've gotten you into a world of trouble."

"I wouldn't have had it any other way." Jeno sounded sincere, but Renjun couldn't bear to look at him. The face that he used to love so much only reminded him of the hurt he'd caused. He cursed Pastor Lee in his mind.

"What are we gonna do?" Renjun asked, eyes still fixed on the wall behind Jeno's head.

"What do you mean?"

"It's almost summer, and then we'll be going about our own lives, right?" Renjun tore his nail with his teeth, right down to the quick. "We can't keep going with this, right?"

"Not if you don't want to," Jeno said. That was unlike him. Renjun had never seen Jeno so defeated before. The Jeno three months ago would've fought him. He would've fought for his right to love Renjun if he wanted to. All that fire had died, and Renjun only saw a shell of the Jeno he once knew in front of him.

He left a few minutes later, after a long stretch of silence. The sound of the door closing sounded like a hollow goodbye, and Renjun knew he wasn't going to sleep a wink.

May 21st, 1984 -- 1 day since state championships

The tennis team was welcomed back to the school Monday with an underwhelming amount of fanfare. There was a big green banner hung over the main hall congratulating Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung on their first place wins in the singles and doubles tournaments, respectively. Renjun wasn't jealous, but he would've been lying if he said he didn't want at least a little recognition for his third place spot.

Maybe he was a little jealous.

All his friends toasted Renjun's success with their milk cartons when he got to the cafeteria. It cheered him up a little, but only because Yangyang spilled chocolate milk on his crotch. They all wanted to know how the tournament went, play by play. Renjun recounted a dramatic rendition of each of his matches: the positively hopeless boy in the first round, the rich kid who punched him for righteously scolding his cheating, and the intense semifinals that ended with the epic racquet smash. They ate it up, even if they knew Renjun was embellishing.

Just as he was about to tell them about the match for third place, he felt a timid tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to see Donghyuck standing with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tattered leather jacket.

"Long time no see, stranger!" Guanheng exclaimed around a mouthful of Lunchables.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Donghyuck snapped with a look of utter disgust. "Can we talk?"

Renjun nodded and said a fleeting goodbye to his friends as Donghyuck dragged him out of the cafeteria. He let himself be led by the hand to the bathroom in the art hall and shoved inside a stall.

"Why do we always have to talk in a bathroom," Renjun whined. "It's so gross. Aren’t there other quiet places in this school--"

"I didn't know who else to talk to."

Renjun studied Donghyuck's face for a moment. He looked beyond upset, with his cheeks a bright red and his voice thick with tears. It was sobering. He looked like a child again, the same one that would climb through his window when he was scared of the monsters in his closet.

"They're sending him away." A tear slid down Donghyuck's cheek, and he sounded like he was choking around every word.

"What are you talking about? Sending who away?"

"Mark," Donghyuck gasped. "They're sending him to New York."

"New York? Why?" Renjun rested a timid hand on Donghyuck's shoulder. He remembered a time when he could so easily wrap his arms around him and hold him in his embrace. He resented the fact that he no longer felt like he could.

"They found pictures of me under his pillow." Donghyuck sobbed. "I'll never be able to see him again."

"Donghyuck, it's going to be okay."

"You don't understand, Renjun." Donghyuck leaned forward and rested the crown of his head against Renjun's chest. "I love him. I can't live without him."

Renjun was shocked to his core. He never really thought Donghyuck was seeing Mark because he had genuine feelings. He figured it was all just a cruel scheme to get back at him for abandoning him for the varsity team. Renjun suddenly felt very self-centered. “Of course you can live without him.”

“I would rather throw myself into the river,” Donghyuck said bitterly.

“Hey.” Renjun tilted his head up to meet his. “When is he leaving?”

“They’re getting him fast tracked on his diploma and moving him out within the week. Apparently he’s going to live with his cousins.”

“You can always write to him,” Renjun offered gently.

“You think they won’t shred every letter he gets from me?” He scoffed. “I know I’ve been terrible to you, and I’m sorry, but can I just… sleep over at yours tonight? For old times’ sake? Just one last time?”

“Of course you can.” Renjun carded his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, too.”

“Like what?” Donghyuck sniffed.

“I fell in love.”

“Again?” He pinched Donghyuck’s side, and he squealed in protest. “Is it Jeno?” Donghyuck gave him a knowing look, and he wanted to slap the smugness off his face.

“No.”

“You’re lying!”

Renjun laughed. He’d momentarily forgotten that they weren’t supposed to be friends anymore. That Donghyuck had done and said so much to hurt him. “Donghyuck?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you do all that stuff?”

“What stuff?” He asked innocently.

“You know what I mean.”

Donghyuck sighed. “I guess… I was just really upset because you’ve always been better than me at everything, you know? I thought you’d join tennis and be terrible at it! I thought we’d be able to spend time practicing together and sit next to each other on the bus and go to Burger King after home games.” Donghyuck paused, and Renjun gestured for him to continue. “You’re going off to college, and I’ll be stuck in this f*cking town for the rest of my life flipping burgers. Do you know how infuriating it was for you to join tennis and immediately best me like that? God, I almost snapped. I started fooling around with Mark to get back at you. Because I knew he was into me and it was the only thing I could have that you couldn’t. Somewhere along the way… I guess I fell for him.”

Renjun nodded, leaning his head against the graffiti-covered door. “You were a real f*cking asshole, you know that?”

Donghyuck hung his head.

“I missed you, though.”

“I missed you, too.”

“I’ll miss Mark.”

“I’ll miss Jeno,” he whispered.

“What happened?”

“It just wasn’t meant to be, I guess.” Renjun looked down at his hands. His nails were bitten down and frayed, his cuticles angry red with ugly hangnails. He brought his hand to his mouth and nibbled one off.

“What does that mean?” Donghyuck scoffed. “You’re just giving up?”

“It’s complicated,” Renjun shot back, his words muffled by the finger in his mouth.

“Is it? Or are you just being a puss* again.”

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” He held his hands up in surrender. “Renjun, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s ruining things for yourself.”

Renjun stayed silent. In such close proximity, Renjun could smell cigarettes on Donghyuck’s breath. It reminded him of kissing Jeno under the plum tree, the taste of ash fresh on his tongue. He’d been so warm, Jeno’s gentle touch on his cheek and under his shirt. He realized he would yearn for it for the rest of life.

He didn’t know if he’d ever want anything as much as he wanted Jeno. Not even heaven.

May 27th, 1984 -- 7 days since state championships

The inside of the church always smelled like old wood and dust. Every once in a while he might catch the floating smell of perfume. It made him feel sick: the oppressive walls, the cross hanging over the pastor’s podium, the squeaky pews. Just like every week, he stood to sing the hymnals, but all he could think about was Jeno’s song he’d plucked out with his fingertips. He moved his lips around the words about sin and hellfire, but never sang them. He’d decided he would never sing them again.

For the first time ever, Renjun did not feel god when the organ played its last, lingering note. He had a dreadful feeling that maybe god had never been there all along.

When they turned to the last hymn on page eighty-seven, Renjun found a small scrap of notebook paper tucked into the pages.

Attic.

---

Renjun climbed the stairs carefully, as if the slightest sound might scare Jeno away. Running his hand on the banister, he thought of the very first time he’d climbed those stairs. The time Jeno had asked him to give him a chance, practically begging on his knees. He’d thought of how powerful he’d felt, to have someone kneeling in front of him like he was a god. That feeling never stopped. Even when Renjun finally gave in to Jeno and his temptation, the feeling of his fingertips against his skin gave him the same otherworldly rush.

He remembered when Jeno had told him he loved him on his bedroom floor, and how he felt like he must be the most important thing in the world.

When he finally reached the attic, Jeno was sitting on the floor, criss-cross with a book in his lap. He looked up and smiled uneasily, offering a small wave. Renjun waved back. It felt normal.

“Hey,” Renjun said. “I’m supposed to be meeting with Pastor Lee.”

“For your consultation?” Jeno asked softly. His eyes crinkled behind his reading glasses. He somehow looked older.

“Yeah.”

“You can go if you want.”

“I really don’t want to.” He moved over to where Jeno sat on the floor. He ran his finger along the floor, picking up a thick layer of dust. He reached over and smeared it on Jeno’s nose. He sneezed.

“What was that for?” He rubbed at his nose vigorously.

“Remember when I told you love collects like dust?”

“Yeah,” Jeno grumbled, clearly still sore from Renjun’s attack.

“I was wrong.”

“Yeah?”

“Dust is so… impermanent.”

“Dust is also made of dead skin cells.”

“Shut the f*ck up, I’m trying to make a point.”

“Then get to the point.”

“I’m still in love with you.”

Jeno looked grim, and he felt his heart plummet. “I need to tell you something, too.”

“What is it?” Renjun could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and he swallowed the urge to kiss Jeno, too scared he’d be pushed away if he tried.

“I’m leaving. I’m going to live in the city.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Renjun stared at Jeno, at his bruised face and hopeful eyes. “Is that why you wanted me to meet you?” Renjun bit his lip, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. “You wanted to say goodbye?”

“No, I wanted to ask if you’ll come with me.”

Renjun felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He sniffed. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m not crazy,” Jeno said angrily. “Do you know Clark? The organ player? He runs the soup kitchen in the city. He says if I work for him for free he’ll let me live in the loft above it.”

“Jeno, we haven’t even graduated high school. What happens if we break up? I’ll have nowhere to go.”
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Jeno said, eyes downcast as he looked at the stripe Renjun’s finger had left in the dust. “I’ll understand.”

“Jeno Lee,” he started, grabbing Jeno’s jaw harshly and forcing him to meet his eyes, “I can’t imagine a world where I don’t want you.”

Jeno crashed their lips together, and it felt like it had been so long, Renjun revelled in the feeling of Jeno’s skin against his. Their lips were both cracked, and the force of the kiss tore open the wound on Jeno’s upper lip.

When they parted, Jeno’s lip was bleeding, and he reached a trembling finger to the wound, collecting a drop of blood on the tip of his finger.

“Let me stay and graduate,” Renjun panted, somehow breathless from one, chaste kiss. “Will you wait for me?”

“Of course,” Jeno replied, kissing him again. It tasted like blood, but Renjun didn’t care. He threw his arms around Jeno’s neck, giggling when their noses knocked together and when he saw a flicker of flame in Jeno’s eyes. Jeno leaned him back so he laid flat on the floor, but Renjun shoved him away.

“Get off, meathead.”

“Renjun!” A voice suddenly called up the stairs. Jeno’s eyes widened.

“Hide,” Renjun hissed, scrambling up from the floor. Jeno ran and hid behind a stack of boxes.

“Oh, there you are. Hiding, are we?” Pastor Lee clapped his hands together. “No need to be afraid, Renjun. Come on, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, Mr. Lee.”

Renjun lingered at the top of the stairs, glancing back into the dusty attic. Jeno’s head was peeking out from behind the boxes.

“Call me,” Renjun mouthed silently, blowing Jeno a kiss before descending the spiral stairs.

Pastor Lee led him into his lonely, dingy office and sat him down in one of the metal chairs. He sat there like he was god himself, nodding solemnly and jotting down notes as he wrenched answers from Renjun’s bitten lips. He stared him down with the same piercing eyes that had terrified him as a child. They burned like hellfire, bright and malevolent.

But Renjun wasn’t a child anymore, and he no longer feared hell.