Their lips find meet as soon as the door shuts. Jungwoo is with Jaehyun, so Mark and Renjun have the apartment to themselves, although they're both too wrapped up in their private world to notice if anyone else is around or not.

Mark's back is flush against the wall in the hallway, hair messy and eyelids lazy as Renjun succumbs to his instincts all over again. He drinks Mark up. The hitched breaths and muffled moans spur him on to dive in deeper, and he teases his teeth over his soulmate's bottom lip with confidence. His heartbeat is deafening, but the beat also keeps him going, gives him a reason to keep going. He's doing it because it's right. It's what soulmates do. It's what he's ached for since Jaemin.

Only this time, Mark doesn't part his lips to grant him access. Renjun moves a little lower to kiss just below his jaw, in the sensitive spot he discovered just an hour earlier, but this time Mark doesn't bare his neck, doesn't sigh out in pleasure. Instead, he stiffens. His breath rasps with what Renjun immediately detects as panic. The younger backs off. His heart drops to his stomach and the weight of guilt and confusion, then deep realisation, makes his knees buckle and they both end up on the sofa with a cushion between them. Renjun wrings his hands together. When he licks his lips, Mark's sweetness lingers and it stings, no longer a drug that draws him in for more and more. He can't get rid of it. He wants to get rid of it.

"Shit, Mark. I... I... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't... we shouldn't have... I shouldn't have kissed you," Renjun says. He fumbles over his words. Breathing is still difficult, but it's Mark that's desperate for air and Renjun that doesn't know what to do.

Mark shakes his head, eyes wide in a silent scream. Renjun doesn't know what to do. He extends a hand to touch Mark and the elder's flinch shouldn't upset him given the situation but it does.

"Shit, Mark." Renjun wrings his jumper between tense fingers. His limbs are ice once more, no longer shielded from the early morning chill by the warmth of a soulmate, by the arduous heat of skin on skin and lips on lips.

He's alone once more. His heart has been abandoned once more. His chest burns with the pain of rejection, and he swears he can feel the blood freezing in his body. For a terrifying, short second, he thinks his heart has just given up entirely. That it's stopped beating, that his blood has ceased to circulate.

Wriggling his fingers and rubbing his eyebrows, he realises his heart hasn't stopped, just that all his thoughts are jammed.

"You should leave," Mark whispers.

He stares at Renjun, eyes still wider than ever, and his right hand grips the front of his jumper while his left climbs to tug his hair, like an attempt to divert the pain. Renjun opens his lips to protest. He wants to ask about the shivering and beads of sweat since Mark claimed to feel hardly anything in response to his soulmate, but he shuts his mouth again and just stares back at the elder.

"Please," Mark says. Renjun would have missed the single word if he wasn't looking at the elder's lips. Mark shuts his eyes tight. "Just go. It's... for the best."

"Do I need to call anyone?" Renjun stands but doesn't go anywhere. He can't bear to peel his gaze off Mark in case his breath could cut off altogether. He doesn't want to leave Mark. He can't leave Mark. It hurts to leave on the best of days, but the elder curls into a ball and grunts in pain while he mumbles something about his heart and how it hurts so bad. "Shall I phone Jungwoo? Your doctor? Your brother? Parents?"

Mark just shakes his head at each suggestion. "You're making it worse," he manages. "Go, please. Please, Renjun... I can't... you can't stay."

It breaks Renjun's heart, but he turns and leaves. The scratch of Mark's voice forces him away no matter how hard he curls his toes into the carpet, desperate to stay.

Walking down the street, the clouds pity Renjun. When he glares at the sky, they wisp and curl in a mocking dance like strings of a curse made of thick soot and murky grey. Tears burn his eyes. His chest wheezes with each breath he draws but he never seems to gain any oxygen. His legs ache. He doesn't know where he's going, just that it's away from Mark and that he's torn between his heart's desire and rationality.

If Mark wants him to go, he should go. Biting his lip to keep the tears at bay, he realises he doesn't understand Mark's condition at all. So if Mark says his presence makes it worse, he has no right to refute that. The thought doesn't console him, though. In fact, it sparks more anxiety that swallows his stomach.

Renjun grits his jaw and scrunches his hands into tight, aching fists that quiver to punch the nearest lamppost, the nearest person, anything. Ten minutes prior he was connecting with Mark more than ever, but now the elastic string of his heart has snapped back, recoiling from rejection with a nasty snap. The sting will last. It might scar, even. He knows that much. His footsteps are loud as he digs his fists into his pockets. He keeps his gaze down in the hopes that passers-by won't detect the anger that burns through his pupils. It threatens to eat away at anything it can get its snarling grip on.

When Renjun does lift his gaze, he's back in his room and it lands on his sketchbook. It lays on his desk, open on the most recent page filled with Mark, but all Renjun can see is the ragged edges. The crinkled corner where he spilt a drop of tea, the faint traces of the original sketches that bleed through the revised sketches on top, the pencil strokes that are too hesitant and the strokes that are too confident. Both are poorly formed, he feels.

Renjun sits down. He presses the pads of his fingers into his temples and a fresh wave of tears blurs the art. This time he doesn't fight them. He succumbs to his emotions, sinking deep into them because it feels good to let go but also like he has no other choice, not when the emotions are all so powerful. They're an evil trap, and it's too late. He blinks, eyelashes clammy, then a drop lands on the page. More follow and they clog his throat and nose, and the way they snatch his breath is so sinister and cruel compared to the gentle coaxing of Mark's touches. They didn't make him choke. Mark's fingers and lips didn't send a chill through every bone in his body.

They were bold, curious, caring in all the right ways.

But somehow Renjun still thinks loving Mark is wrong.

Drawing Mark is wrong. Entertaining all the thoughts about Mark is wrong. It only leads to more thoughts, to more sketches that suck the entire night away. He has to trudge to class on minimal sleep, with zero ability to focus on the lecture content because all he can wonder is if Mark is in class, too.

It all injects his blood with guilt that swarms through his heart and shoots out of his fingers to rip a page clean out of the sketchbook. The tears pinch his temples and the ache is unbearable, yet nothing compared to the sheer anger that takes over his entire body. He crushes the paper in his fist, squeezing until it can't be compressed any further, then throws it at the wall. It bounces back and rolls to stop just by his bed. The anger drains from his body to leave him confused, drained and empty before it surges back, stronger than ever.

"Fuck!" His throat screams, strained and sore. "Fuck!"

His hands return to the sketchbook. Page by page, his work falls victim to rage. Renjun can't breathe, and he can't stop. He curses again and again, and each time he throws a ball of paper at the wall the strength dwindles, but pride pushes him on and makes him furious with the need to break things. He doesn't care what. He doesn't care about anything; nothing matters and he doesn't matter. When his arm gives up, he slumps into in his pillow. For a moment, he doesn't breathe. He thinks maybe he could suffocate himself. Mark can't feel the full bond, so maybe it wouldn't matter so much, he thinks. Maybe no one would care.

"I'm not gonna graduate anyway," he mutters, with only the unwashed fabric of his pillowcase to listen.

"Yes, you are going to graduate."

Renjun presses his face deeper into his pillow. His weight sinks into the mattress, yet he feels weightless, non-existent, like he's not even real. His thoughts are fuzzy, and his skin feels too tight and out of place, like he doesn't belong even in his own body.

"What were you screaming about?"

"Fuck off." Renjun hadn't even heard the door open, but somehow Jeno is sat cross-legged in the middle of his bedroom floor.

When Renjun lifts his head, he can just about decipher the circles of Jeno's glasses and the crinkle of his brow through the tears, because of course he's concerned and of course he cares. Renjun laughs. Nothing makes sense; all he knows is that he's laughing, that tears are streaming down his cheeks, that Jeno is moving to embrace him, that he's pushing Jeno away with more curses falling from his lips.

"Is this your art?" Jeno sits back down, and Renjun rolls over to stare at the ceiling.

"What do you think?" Renjun hates himself as soon as he says it and can't bring himself to apologise, instead gritting his teeth and pressing his palms into his eyes with no intention of releasing them until he's gouged his eyeballs out.

He sniffs, then releases the breath agonisingly slowly, although he'd never admit that it clears his mind enough to hear the rustle of paper while Jeno collects the scraps and piles them on the desk. He inhales again, letting the air leave his nose in a steady stream, finally grabbing the tether that brings him back into the world.

"Come here," Jeno mutters, sitting on the end of the bed and patting Renjun's knee to get him to move.

He still can't meet his friend's eyes, but he crawls over to him, lets his forehead rest on the younger's shoulder. Jeno's strong arms embrace him and the next tears that fall don't burn his cheeks. Instead, they're a relieving release of frustration. When he speaks, he cringes at his grated voice. "Why Mark?"

Jeno tightens the hug, and Renjun stops shaking as his heartbeat slows and his breathing returns to normal. The affection soothes him, although he wouldn't admit that either. He still nuzzles a little deeper into the crook of Jeno's neck.

"What do you mean?"

Renjun thinks. He racks his brain, but no thoughts pop up. Any coherence is still clouded by the stubborn clutches of grief over Mark.

"Why Mark?" He repeats, and this time Jeno just lets the words settle in the air between them. Part of Renjun wants him to probe, but after a while he's grateful for the quiet. He can hear Jeno's steady breaths, can feel the circles he traces across his back, can soak up all the warmth. The younger may not be his soulmate, but after the rejection it's more than enough.

Jeno clears his throat and the bed creaks as he shifts in place. "The work is still salvageable. We can smooth it out and glue it back in. It's okay." Renjun just shrugs. "I don't know why you did that, but something must have made you angry again. You should talk about it. You always tell us to talk, so follow your own advice."

Again. Again.

The rest of Jeno's words go unnoticed since all Renjun can focus on is that single word. A reminder that it's not the first time he's lost control. That it's a recurring thing, so probably won't be the last time either.

Renjun shakes his head, stubborn. He thinks hard – too hard to be healthy – and in no situation do things turn out okay. Catastrophes pop up that wring more tears from his eyes. His throat is dry and sore when he whimpers, and his skin prickles and crawls when Jeno reverses the circles on his back. Still, it's warm and eases him through the aftershocks.

"You love hugs really, don't you?" Jeno whispers, teasing. Renjun doesn't have to lift his head to know he's smiling, for the gentle lift in his tone and the soft laugh give it away.

The elder merely hums. His own lips curl into a smile, but he keeps his face buried. Warmth fizzles through his chest, a steady stream of comfort, and Jeno yelps in surprise when Renjun hugs him back as a silent confirmation.

"Things are just confusing, I guess," Renjun says. Jeno listens. "Mark is so sweet. But... we're still working things out. I guess I got upset that things aren't going how I'd hoped they would."

It's Jeno's turn to hum. "I get that." There's a pause while he contemplates. "I haven't met my soulmate yet, but I imagine it can't be easy to be thrown together with a stranger. It's kind of weird, when you think about it, isn't it?"

Renjun lets out a watery laugh. "Totally weird."

They laugh about it for a few minutes before the atmosphere dims again and Renjun wilts. Jeno is there to catch him, never releasing the embrace.

"Thank you," Renjun mumbles. His cheeks flame, and he hates how he finds something so simple as physical affection with a friend embarrassing. He makes a mental note to try to sneak hugs more often. Jisung tends to be out of the question, Chenle too, but when Jeno untangles from the hug to cross the room to the desk Renjun reckons he might be the best target. He bites his lip to muffle the lingering smile, even as they work together to uncrumple his artwork and he shrinks with shame.

Jeno praises all the drawings. Renjun doesn't want to accept the compliments, but he gives up hiding his smile when it inevitably grows, which only incites Jeno to keep going. They find an old glue stick to fix the pages down.

"I could pretend it's all part of the concept," Renjun says once the final drawing is stuck down. Jeno tilts his head in confusion. "The world can be cruel, but I have another chance and things get better. Like how we can flatten the pages back out to make something new."

"Write it down, then. You could fill an entire essay on that."

Renjun sits back in the desk chair, this time with his head up and shoulders rolled back to stretch his arms above his head.

"I don't want to be mad at Mark," Renjun continues. "But I am. Or was, rather. Is that bad?"

"I think it's perfectly valid," Jeno replies. When Renjun turns to face him, the younger has a playful smirk and Renjun pokes his knee.

"Don't pull a Jaemin on me."

"But it's true! All feelings are valid."

Even though he rolls his eyes, Renjun is grateful for Jeno. The words tangle in his throat so don't quite reach the air, but when he nods he hopes Jeno understands. Jeno nods back.

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I made it :D I'm sorry for the wait :< I'm at uni now so I'm kind of ia on all my socials since I have barely any time these days and it's already kind of too much to handle :c

How are you all doing? Please drop a comment to say hi! And if you're still here, I am so so grateful for your support and understanding, and thank you so much for waiting <3