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lucanus cervus (boys will be bugs)

Summary:

They’ve known each other since year two. Since Jisung was seven and Chenle eight. Since Chenle would try to crush the bugs on the playground as Jisung defended them with his life.

But now it’s year eleven, and things are growing much more serious. There are girls in their lives, or, in Jisung’s case, a closeted crush.

That’s gonna complicate things. 

Notes:

Hi friends! Quick TWs before we start—

- Pet death
- Internalized Homophobia
- Homophobia

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

 

 

There are some secrets Jisung holds close to his chest, and others he keeps at arm’s length. His crush on Chenle is one of those that not a living (human?) soul knows of. Only Jisung’s pet stag beetle (don’t judge, okay? They make good pets) and his teddy bear (Shut up, Donghyuck) know about it. 

Others, sure, he’ll share. He’s autistic (That’s pretty much an open secret at this point), his favorite subject is Science (That’s not really a secret, Jisung), and he really really really loves bugs. 

Except cockroaches. 

Beetles are good, though. 

Beetles are good. 




With Mark off at University , Jisung has no one to bus to school with anymore. No one to meet at the corner of his street, no one to run after the bus with, etc. etc.

So imagine his surprise when, on the first day of school, he rounds the corner to the bus stop to spot Chenle sitting on the park bench, hammering away at the buttons on his DS. 

“Chenle hyung,” Jisung says. “What are you doing here?” 

“One second,” Chenle mutters. He uncrosses his legs and sits forward, gaze narrowed on the tiny screen, practically mashing the buttons into the console. “Shit!” he exclaims, a few moments later. “I lost. Dammit, Jisung.” 

Jisung splutters. “Sorry?” 

Chenle turns to him and stands. The sleeves of his uniform are rolled up—not neatly folded, really just stuffed up his arms—and he’s holding his jacket. His tie is undone. 

“It’s the first day,” Jisung deadpans. “You couldn’t have tried to make your uniform nice?” 

Chenle shrugs. “It’s the first day,” he parrots. “May as well set the precedent.” He smiles. “Anyway, my family moved, remember? And my mom offered to drive me but then I remembered Mark hyung’s gone so I figured I’d take the bus with you!” He smiles brightly. 

“Oh.” Jisung ignores how this makes his insides twist, how it makes him slightly nauseous. How all he can think about is grabbing Chenle’s cheeks and smashing their faces together. “That’s sweet,” he chokes out.

“Besides!” Chenle’s cheery as ever. “It’s our second-to-last year. They aren’t seriously gonna scold me for having my uniform like this. I don’t know a single year eleven that does their tie properly. 

Jisung gives him an unimpressed look. 

“Aside from you, of course.” He grins a cheeky grin. He peers past Jisung. “Bus!” And waves down the driver. Jisung follows him aboard, as he’d follow him anywhere, unfortunately. 




Their schedules overlap terribly. “What do you mean we don’t have science together?!” Chenle gasps. “Who am I supposed to copy off of?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Kidding.” Chenle laughs a bit. But then he groans, dropping his face into his hands. Kicks his feet a bit. They’re sitting outside for lunch. Chenle’s tie is done, now, which means he probably got scolded for it. That or Yizhou did it for him. Jisung isn’t sure which he prefers. 

No, he’s not jealous of Yizhou. She’s Chenle’s friend, and Jisung’s. Jisung has no reason to be jealous of her. Chenle’s never shown interest in her. Or any girls, for that matter. Or boys, which is probably for the best. It’s not like that’s exactly … cool. 

“Ahh, babies.” Donghyuck comes up behind Jisung, flanked by the rest of their upperclassmen friends. Though, Jisung supposes, he and Chenle are technically upperclassmen now, too. 

“How’s your first day?” Donghyuck drapes himself around Jisung’s shoulders, plopping onto the bench. “Chenle, ew, why is your tie done?” 

Chenle’s ears turn red. “Yizhou made me,” he grumbles. “She said I’d get in trouble or whatever.” 

“Your uniform is ironed, too,” Renjun says. “Who are you and what have you done with Chenle?” 

“Mom made me iron it,” Chenle sighs. “Quit judging me, gege .” He throws a cracker at Renjun. It hits him in the forehead and falls to the ground. 

“Look at that,” Renjun says. “You’re wasting food.” 

“Shut up.” 

Renjun smiles, but sits beside Donghyuck. 

“How’s your first day?” Jeno asks. He and Jaemin sit on Chenle’s side of the bench. 

Chenle shrugs. “Not bad,” Jisung says. “It’s school.” 

Jeno hums. “Yeah.” 

“Your guys’ last year, though.” Chenle perks up. “Exciting, right?” 

“Sure,” Jaemin scratches the back of his neck. “Excluding the inevitable university applications.” 

“You’ll be fine, Jaeminnie,” Renjun says. “You’ve got some of the best grades among us.” 

“I know,” Jaemin sighs. “But med school.” 

Jeno pats Jaemin’s head. 

“Jisung and I don’t have Science or Maths together,” Chenle says with a frown. “I don’t know who I’m going to copy off of.” 

“You’re plenty smart, Chenle, you’ll be fine,” Donghyuck says. “Christ, don’t copy.” 

Chenle sighs. “Yeah, true. My genius is unfounded.” 

Jisung can’t help it. He laughs. Earning himself a glare from Chenle, but there’s a twinkle in his best friend’s eye, allowing Jisung to soften. 

He likes him a little too much. 




They don’t go home at the same time, to Jisung’s great disappointment. Chenle has choir practice after school, while Jisung’s dance practices don’t start until later in the term. He finds himself home soon enough, locked up away in his room, watching his beetle and musing about the day. 

“I don’t know,” Jisung says to the beetle. “I don’t think he likes me back. But even if he did …” Jisung frowns. Jisung’s parents don’t know he’s gay. No one does, not even his older brother, who’s long gone at university, or Jaemin or Jeno or Donghyuck or Renjun. Not even Mark. 

Not even Mark. 

Jisung rolls his desk chair away from the dresser his beetle’s cage sits on, instead propping his socked feet up on his desk and pulling his phone out. He should text Mark. So he does. 

 

>> Me

hi mark hyung

how’s uni? 

 

Mark doesn’t answer. At least, not immediately. It isn’t until hours later, until after Jisung’s had dinner with his parents. They ask the usual questions. How’s school. Any cute girls. Etc. etc. 

No, Jisung doesn’t know how he’s going to tell them. 

 

>> Mark hyung

uni’s good!!!!

i’ve met some really cool people

super exciting!!

how’s school bud? 

 

>> Me

it’s okay

 

>> Mark hyung

just okay? 

 

>> Me

for now i guess hahahaha

 

>> Mark hyung

well

let’s hope it gets more okay

yeah? 

 

Jisung sighs. 

Yeah. 




Jisung has to drag himself out of bed the next morning. Before you say anything, yes, it’s the second day. Yes, he’s already sick of it and misses sleeping in. So badly. 

And yet, he manages to drag himself downstairs, where his father greets him. 

“Good morning, Jisung,” he says. 

“Good morning, Dad.” Jisung manages a tired smile. 

“Best get going. You don’t want to be late, do you?” 

“No, of course not.” Jisung and his dad get along, usually. Usually. His dad is hard on him, but he loves him, and Jisung knows this. 

“I’ll see you, Dad,” Jisung says. 

“Bye, son.” 

Jisung heads outside. Hurries down toward the bus stop only to jump as a car horn honks. Jisung turns, shocked to see Chenle in his mother’s car, sitting behind the driver’s seat. 

“What are you doing?” Jisung asks, clambering into the back seat. 

“I told him not to honk,” Chenle’s mother says, pursing her lips. She then scolds Chenle easily in Chinese. Chenle bickers back, but adjusts his hands on the wheel. 

“Should I just take the bus?” Jisung asks. 

“No!” Chenle says. “I’m completely competent and a good driver. You just haven’t been in a car with me yet.” 

“Uh huh …” That last part is true, at least. Jisung can’t speak for the first two. 

But Chenle does fine, albeit he bickers frequently with his mother on the way to school, and they arrive soundly in one piece. 

“How’d I do?” Chenle bounces out of the car after they bid goodbye to Chenle’s mother. 

“Well, actually,” Jisung says. “Nice work.” 

Chenle beams at Jisung’s words. “Thanks!” And starts yappin’ away about driving. Jisung is only half listening as they head inside the school, trying his hardest not to stare at Chenle. 

It’s eating away at him, a little bit. This huge crush he has on his best friend. How badly he just wants to tell him. To kiss him and hold him and … 

Jisung can’t. 

He knows he can’t. 

Chenle trails off. “Hey,” he says. “You okay?” 

Jisung looks at him. He’s so handsome—not that Jisung would ever tell him this—with his pretty lips and windswept hair. He’s so … 

“Jisung,” Chenle says, frowning. “You look …” 

“I’m fine, Chenle hyung.” 

“Drop the ‘hyung’!” Chenle exclaims. “We’re two months apart, Park!” 

Jisung manages a smile. “Okay, Chenle.” 

“And carry my bag. I’m tired.” 

“Okay, Chenle.” 




Jisung is going to burst. As his friends all talk about pretty girls at lunch, as Mark texts and asks if he’s got his eye on anyone. With his parents’ saying he’s old enough to date now, poking and prodding, Jisung finds it’s eating away at him. This secret he’s harboring. This horrible, horrible, horrible truth. 

It’s such a violent force, isn’t it? 

He finds he starts avoiding his parents first, spending his days locked up in his room, doing his work at his desk and talking with his stag beetle. Jisung loves his beetle. Its name is Andy—yes it has Jisung’s English name. What can he say? It’s a good name!—and he’s had it for about five months. They don’t … they don’t live that long. This is Jisung’s second. But he still loves it with all he can. 

He takes the beetle from its terrarium, placing it on his desk and watching it slowly crawl along. Jisung sighs. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says, quietly, to the beetle. “I can’t tell anyone.” His words are thick in his throat and something squeezes his chest. He can’t tell anyone. He just can’t risk it. 

What if it gets out? 

What if he’s bullied? Hurt? Killed? Gay marriage isn’t even legal in South Korea. There isn’t a point in telling anyone. As if Chenle would like him back. 

And yet, it’s just eating away at him. Jisung hates keeping secrets. He hates not living his life. He hates he hates he hates

Hates this, really. 

Jisung picks up his beetle and returns it to its terrarium. He plops into his desk chair, and allows his mind to wander. 

Chenle really is lovely … Jisung tries not to think about him, he really does, but sometimes he can’t help but wonder … you know, what it’d be like. To hold his hand and give him gifts and all those silly things his friends talk about doing with girls. 

He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the knocking on his door until it opens. 

“Jisung-ah!” his mother scolds. “I’ve been calling your name. Are you daydreaming again?” 

Jisung flushes. “Sorry, Mom.” 

His mother hums. “Come, dear. Come have dinner.” 

Jisung follows his mother downstairs. Takes his seat at the table. They say thanks for the meal and begin eating, as conversation slowly blooms. 

“How’s school, Jisung?” his father asks. “Your classes going okay? Any exams yet?” 

“He’s only a week in!” his mother says. 

“No, Dad, no exams.” Jisung pokes at his food. 

His father harrumphs. “They aren’t testing you kids enough. Back in my day …” Jisung tunes him out. He pushes his food around his plate and eats slowly, letting his mind wander once again. 

Chenle is a gross teenage boy, Jisung really ought to feel no appeal. Girls are pretty, with their long hair and painted nails. Their perfumes and scented body washes, like peonies and roses. 

Jisung has literally watched Chenle pick his nose and eat it and yet for some stupid reason he’s the one Jisung likes? 

“Jisungie, are you listening?” his mother asks with a frown. 

Jisung looks up. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I zoned out.” 

“Don’t pick at your food,” his father scolds him. “Eat. You’re too skinny as is.” 

His father’s words chip away at him, slowly, they always do. Picking away at the facade Jisung has so carefully crafted. Hacking away at his heart. Jisung thinks he might be sick. 

He isn’t so sure how he makes it through dinner, but that night he can’t sleep. Can’t stop his mind from wandering to the one place he isn’t allowed to go. 

Chenle doesn’t use chapstick, barely at all, and certainly not like Jaemin does. Chenle doesn’t shower as frequently as he probably should. Jisung’s seen him ugly sob when he broke his arm when they were kids. He’s seen him fall on his face more times than he cares to count. 

And yet, here Jisung is. Wondering what it’d be like to kiss him. 

He hates himself for it. 

Chenle, who hates bugs but hangs out with Jisung and his stag beetle. Chenle, who loves his dog and likes to bury his face in her fur. Chenle. Chenle. Chenle. Likes cooking and singing and … 

Jisung’s in too deep. 

His phone dings, just as his spiraling is teetering into dangerous territory. Into panic attack territory. Jisung, dazed, checks his phone to see an ‘eyes’ emoji from Chenle. 

So Jisung does the stupid thing. He climbs out of bed, quickly changing and clambering out onto the roof. Slipping down the tree at the end of it, climbing down and hurrying to the park down the street. 

Chenle’s waiting there for him, pushing himself back and forth on a swing. He spots Jisung and waves. 

“You came!” he says, cheerily. “I wasn’t sure when you didn’t text me back.” He socks Jisung in the arm. 

“Sorry,” Jisung says. “Would you rather I be walking or texting?” 

“Touché.” Chenle smiles. “Come on!” He grabs Jisung’s wrist, tugging him over to the half-sphere climbing gym. They climb on up, laying across the metal bars. One is uncomfortably digging into Jisung’s back but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s here, under the stars, with Chenle. 

So romantic. 

How gross. 

Chenle sighs beside him. Glances at Jisung. He isn’t smiling anymore. “Do you ever think about what’ll happen after school ends?” 

Jisung shrugs. “We’ll go to university,” he says. “Get our degrees. Go off to the real world, I guess.” 

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “Sure,” he says. “I meant more …” He waves a hand around. “Friends, and stuff.” 

“Oh.” 

“Girls.” 

“Oh.” Jisung pauses. “Wait. Girls?” 

“You know, girls.” They never talk about girls. Not the two of them. 

“You like a girl?” 

“Well, no, but—” 

“Then there are no girls,” Jisung says. He looks back up at the sky, his heart hammering in his chest, anxiety prickling beneath his skin. He pauses. “Until there are ones at university.” 

“I guess,” Chenle mumbles. 

The tension between them is palpable, suffocating. Jisung needs to break it. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what happens with friends … and stuff.” 

Chenle doesn’t seem satisfied with his answer. He’s frowning, when Jisung looks at him. At the light reflected in his eyes, the stars shimmering in them. Jisung wants to bawl. He wants to scream and throw a temper tantrum. To bang his fists against the ground, to cry so hard he nearly pukes. To cradle Chenle’s cheeks gently in his hands. To memorize the imperfections in his skin, the hues of his irises. To yell and shout and to run his hands through his hair. It’s probably greasy—like Jisung said, Chenle doesn’t shower nearly enough—but Jisung doesn’t even care

Jisung wants to wipe the frown off his face. To take his fingers and push them into the corners of his mouth, until Chenle laughs and shoves him away. To lie beside him, like they are now, but to face him. To count the eyelashes fanning against his cheeks, the blemishes and marks and … 

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Jisung doesn’t even realize Chenle’s waiting on an answer, doesn’t even realize he’s lost his breath, until Chenle pinches his arm. 

“Hey,” he says, and only then does Jisung hear him. “Stupid. Are you listening?” 

Jisung has to sit up, so he does, sitting on one of the bars of the climbing gym. He can’t breathe. This secret is swallowing him whole and he’s falling. Down, down, down. And yet, he knows Chenle will always save him. 

Jisung is listening, now, at least. Listening to the soft timbre of Chenle’s voice, to the cricket’s cry, comforting in the darkness. 

“Yeah,” Jisung breathes. “I’m listening.” 

Chenle hums. “What’d I say?” 

“That I’m stupid.” 

“You were not listening!” Chenle laughs his squeaky laugh. “I mean, I did say that, but still.” He sighs. “I said we’ll still be friends, right?” 

Jisung’s hands sting. “Don’t ask stupid questions.” 

Chenle hums in response. “Okay,” he says.

“I won’t.” 




Science class is extremely boring without Chenle, Jisung learns very fast. And he likes science. But it’s so much more entertaining with Chenle whispering in his ear, making stupid inappropriate jokes or whatever. 

Biology. The human body. Jisung’s learning about the heart. About the dilation and constriction of veins. About how humans blush and their heart rates and their pulses and—

Jisung’s gonna be sick. 

They reconvene at lunch. 

“Jisung.” Chenle trudges over to the bench, plopping into his seat and dropping his head onto the table, turning it so his cheek rests against the wooden plank of it. “I can’t do biology,” he grumbles. “I miss when science was easy …” 

Jisung snorts. “You’re saying physics was easy?” 

“Yes,” Chenle grunts. “I can’t stand this microbiology stuff.” 

Jisung hums, jotting away at his worksheet. “I like it,” he lies through his teeth. 

“Yeah, well, you’re a fucking nerd.” 

“Thanks.” 

They’re joined by the rest of their friends shortly enough, only this time, Jeno is accompanied by a girl. 

“Jen.” Jaemin tilts his head. “Who’s this?” 

Jeno’s beaming, the apples of his cheeks round, his eyes scrunched up. “This is Yeeun. She’s my girlfriend.” 

Everyone gasps. “No way,” Chenle whispers beside Jisung. 

“Congrats, man!” Donghyuck claps Jeno on the shoulder. Then he introduces himself to Jeno’s girlfriend. They all go around, and then, once they’re done, Jeno and his girlfriend walk off. 

“Damn,” Donghyuck says. “Who would’ve thought? Jeno first, huh.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So who’s getting cuffed next.” 

“Not me,” Jisung mutters. 

Jaemin coos beside him. “Have faith, Jisungie, you’re a total catch!” 

“I’m just me,” he says, plainly. 

“I’d argue you’re more than that,” Chenle mutters. 

Jisung stares at him, but before he can get Chenle to elaborate, he shoves his sandwich in his mouth, taking a massive bite. Jisung thinks he’s so gross. 

Why does he like him, again? 

Renjun ends up changing the subject away from girls. Jisung is relieved, but he does his best not to show it. No one can know. This secret Jisung harbors, it’s eating away at him. Slowly, surely, eating away. No one can know, Jisung thinks. He doesn’t even want to ponder what might happen. No one can know. Good God. Jisung could be disowned!

He suddenly feels rather sick. Slightly ill. He wants to retch, almost, retch up the lunch his mother so kindly made him. With chopped up fruit and perfectly cooked meats. Jisung wants to retch and gag and … 

What is he to do? His mother won’t love him anymore once he’s out. She certainly won’t make him homemade lunches. She may even kick him out. She could hate him. Jisung loves his mother, he doesn’t want her to hate him. 

Jisung slowly packs up his lunch so as not to draw attention to himself. Jaemin notices anyway—of course he does. 

“Jisungie,” he says. “Where are you headed?” 

Jisung shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “Just to class early,” he mumbles.

Chenle snorts beside him. Jisung glares at him. 

“What?” he says. “You never go to class early.” 

Jisung shrugs. “Well, I am today.” 

“I’ll come with, then.” Curse Chenle and his horrible sixth sense to know when Jisung isn’t feeling well. “I need to talk to our teacher anyways.” 

“Okay.” 

And Jisung lets him follow him. 




Jisung talks to his stag beetle about it later. His stag beetle doesn’t say much about it, obviously, but it is a very good listener. 

Jisung just finds he’s more and more hooped. He writes about it, too, scrawling away in his journal, then tucking it in the bottom of his school bag. He’s too afraid of his parents going through his room while he’s away. Jisung needs to process this. To process this and get over it and yet parts of him don’t want to. 

He … He likes Chenle. And they’re best friends and Jisung doesn’t want to lose him. He curls up tight on his bed, clutching his teddy bear and, in a moment of utter weakness, letting himself cry, just a little bit. 

He’s just wrapping up his little wallow session when his mother knocks. “Jisung-ah,” she calls. “Come down for dinner.” 

“Just a second,” Jisung says. His voice breaks. 

His door may as well have been thrown off of its hinges, what with how quickly his mother opens it. “Are you alright, dear?” She’s on him in seconds. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

Jisung looks up at his mother and the weakness which grips him tight swallows him whole. Jisung loves his mother. He loves her so much. He’s so afraid.  

“Nothing,” he tries mumbling, but it comes out shaky. 

His mother sits down on the foot of his bed. “My son,” she coos. “What’s the matter?” She reaches out, then hesitates, folding her hands in her lap. Jisung sits up and turns, curling up into her side. 

“I’m gonna miss my friends,” he says. “What if, when we graduate, we don’t talk anymore?” He frowns. 

His mother laughs softly. “Silly,” she says, her hand finding his hair and patting gently. “These are your best friends. Of course you’ll stay in touch.” 

“And Jeno hyung got a girlfriend. I haven’t seen him since,” Jisung grumbles. 

His mother chuckles. “Sweetheart, he’s probably just a little lovestruck with his girlfriend right now. You’ll understand someday.” 

Jisung shrugs, and, in a moment of weakness “You’ll love me no matter what, right?” he whispers. 

His mother doesn’t answer, and Jisung looks up to see her wide eyes. She frowns. “Of course,” she says. “What sort of question is that?” 

Jisung shrugs.

“Jisung,” his mother says. “I am your mother. I don’t care what it is, I will always love you.” She fixes him with a stern glare, and Jisung manages a smile. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“Okay?” she says. “You know you can always talk to me, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Good.” She pecks his forehead, brushing back his bangs. “Come on, let’s go eat dinner.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says. “I’ll be down in a minute.” 

His mother hums and leaves. Jisung slowly gets up. He doesn’t allow himself to be hopeful. His mother doesn’t know. She doesn’t know the gravity of his secret. 

He wonders how long he’ll be able to keep said secret. 

He doesn’t know. 



He has an exam the next week. Soon, he knows. He’s dreading it. Science. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. 

He studies with Chenle over the weekend in the schoolyard. They spend hours with their noses in books, with chemical equations for aerobic respiration written over and over and over again. Chenle writes his on his hand, Jisung on notecards. They quiz each other and work hard, like they always do. 

“I don’t get how Jaemin loves this stuff,” Chenle mutters. Of course, Jaemin’s in advanced biology this year, his senior year, and he’s applying for medical schools. 

Jisung snorts. “Right?” He skims the page of the textbook and wrinkles his nose. “It’s sort of gross. I just want to get to plant biology already. I can’t stand humans.” 

“I want to get to the cardiovascular system,” Chenle says. “Blood is sick.” 

“Sure,” Jisung says, absentmindedly. 

Loud voices sound from further down the playground. Older kids, it seems. 

“Should we move?” Jisung asks, eyeing them nervously. The older kids in the neighborhood scare him. They’re all from out of town, in the city for university. 

“They’re university kids,” Chenle says. “I’m sure they’re well-behaved.” 

“I’m not,” Jisung mutters. 

Chenle snorts, and hunches back over his textbook. He pulls a jelly from his lunchbox—filled to the brim with snacks—and opens it up, chewing with his mouth open obnoxiously. Jisung wrinkles his nose. 

“Close your mouth,” he says. “Jeez.” 

Chenle rolls his eyes, but does as he says. “Sorry.” He swallows. “I know the sounds bother you sometimes.” 

Jisung nods, watching Chenle for a moment, where he’s buried his nose in the textbook, bringing it up to his face. 

“I think you need glasses,” Jisung snorts. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chenle says, his voice muffled from speaking directly into the book. 

“Didn’t Jaemin say he’d come help us study?” Jisung looks around. “He’s awfully late.” 

“He’s always late.” Chenle lowers his book. “Has to take his time to do his hair .” 

Jisung hums. “It does look nice.”

“Does my hair look nice?” Chenle pretends to flip it over his shoulder, even though it isn’t nearly long enough for that. Jisung laughs. “I kind of want to bleach it,” Chenle says. “But …” He trails off. Jisung isn’t sure why, until he turns, to see the boys from before have approached them at their picnic bench. 

“Yes?” Chenle asks. 

“On a little date, are we?” one of the boys says. The one in front. 

Chenle’s brows furrow. Jisung thinks he might be sick. Do they know? They can’t know. How would they possibly know? 

“We’re studying biology, dude,” Chenle says. “We’ve got an exam this week. Couldja leave us be?” 

The guys laugh. “Studying biology?” 

Chenle’s expression falls flat. Jisung’s chest is tight. There’s a ringing in his ears and what if they know? 

How could they possibly know? 

“Yes, that’s what I said. If you aren’t here to wish us luck, leave.” Chenle’s always had a bit of a temper. Jisung tries to give him a look but he’s too afraid. 

“So it’s a little study date,” the front boy says. “You’re queers, aren’t you?” 

Chenle’s expression grows cross, fast. He stands out from the bench. He barely goes up to the guy’s chin. “I said—” 

“We heard you,” the guy says. “We don’t care.” 

Chenle glances at Jisung, just briefly. “Come on, let’s move,” he says, shoving his things into his bag. “We can tell Jaemin to meet us elsewhere.” 

The guy coos. “Protecting your little mute boyfriend?” 

Jisung’s ears burn. He can’t talk right now, sure. Sure, he’s gone nonverbal out of anxiety, but … 

Not cool. 

Chenle seems to think so too, as he just grabs Jisung’s things and shoves them in his bag too, when Jisung doesn’t move. 

“You guys go to university around here?” Chenle asks. 

“Yeah, SMU, why?” 

Chenle smirks. “Just think the dean would like to know you’re harassing high schoolers in your free time.” 

“You don’t even know our names,” the guy says. 

“Says ‘em on your uniform, stupid.” 

“‘Least I’m not as stupid as your boyfriend here.” 

“You shut your mouth,” Chenle says. “He’s going to get into a much better university than SMU, and he won’t have to bully other kids to get into it.” Jisung flushes. 

“You calling me stupid?” 

“I already called you stupid.” 

Chenle’s finished packing his bag now, hoisted it over his shoulder. Jisung manages to grab his own, stumbling out from the bench and heading around it, meeting Chenle at the other side. 

“We’ll be going now,” Chenle says. “Goodbye.” He glances at Jisung, and Jisung knows exactly what he’s thinking. They take off, running toward the school and using their IDs to get into the building, where the older kids can’t follow them. Chenle takes Jisung’s hand once they’re inside, pulling him down to an empty classroom. He sits Jisung down at a desk and starts unloading Jisung’s things out of his bag. 

“Those guys were such dicks,” Chenle mutters. “Christ. I hate the SMU kids. Some of them are serious assholes.”

Jisung nods. 

“Can’t talk?” Chenle eyes him. Jisung nods, shame creeping up his neck. His tongue is thick in his mouth and there’s a nearly-painful lump in his throat. “That’s okay.” He sighs. “Do you want to keep studying for today? We can just go back to my place. I’m sure my mom won’t mind.” 

Jisung has to tell him. 

He has to tell him. 

“She’ll honestly probably just make us some tea or whatever. Warning you now, though, she’s been on a serious health kick. I only managed to get these jellies from my brother when he visited and they’ve been hidden away in my room since. I don’t think we have a single sweet outside my room. Just so you know.” 

“Chenle.” 

“Yeah?” 

‘I’m gay.’ The words sit on his tongue in Jisung’s mouth, holding with them so much anxiety, Jisung nearly faints. He can’t say that. He almost does. He can’t. 

“That sounds nice,” he says, instead. “We should text Jaemin hyung.” 

“Mkay,” Chenle says. “He’ll understand, probably.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says. He takes his things from the desk and loads them up in his bag. 

And they head to Chenle’s place. 




“Mom! We’re back,” Chenle calls, as they walk through the front door. Chenle’s mother—a stout, cheery woman with short hair—welcomes them warmly, pinching her son’s cheek and greeting Jisung with a warm hug. 

They end up on Chenle’s floor, sat in front of his television, leaning against his bed. Chenle’s kicking Jisung’s ass at Mario Kart. 

“I hate you,” Jisung mutters. “How are you so damn good?” 

“I’m just that cool, I guess,” Chenle says. He glances at Jisung. “But I think you’re distracted.” 

Curse Chenle and his uncanny ability to read Jisung well. 

“I’m not distracted.” He’s gay. Fuck. Jisung drives straight off of the map. 

Chenle laughs. “You’re a shit liar, Sungie.” 

“Don’t curse. Your mother would have Donghyuckie hyung’s head.” 

Chenle laughs more. “She would so blame him. It’d be so funny.” 

Jisung needs to tell him. He needs to tell someone before he … 

“Dude!” The results come up on the screen. “Were you even trying? You usually suck but not this bad.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Are you alright?” Chenle asks, instead. “Seriously, Jisung. You’ve been strange for a while now.” 

“Strange for a—What? I’m fine.” 

Chenle narrows his eyes at him. “Is it your anxiety?” 

“No, it’s not my anxiety.” 

“So it’s something.” 

“No! There’s nothing.” 

Chenle gives him a look. “Jisung, I know there’s—” 

“There’s not!” Jisung’s irritated now. He stands. “I’m serious, Chenle. There’s nothing wrong. Nothing I can tell you.” 

“Are your parents fighting again?” Chenle asks, a bit softer. 

Jisung wants to scream. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine.” 

“Fine.” Jisung can’t do this. “Fine, you want to know?” 

“I mean, I’d like to—” 

“I’m gay.” Jisung’s about to cry. About to bawl. He doesn’t know what he expects, but he can barely look at Chenle, as shock covers his face. His eyes widen and his mouth sits in an ‘o’ shape. Jisung tries to stay strong, he really does. He tries to stand tall but he’s crumpling. “I’m gay,” Jisung says, again. Oh, how freeing it is to say it out loud. And yet—“I’m sorry.” His shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He grabs his bag and pulls it over his shoulder. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Chenle says. “You’re serious?” He’s still looking at Jisung slightly shocked. 

Jisung studies his face. He can’t tell what Chenle’s thinking. 

So he nods, and watches in horror as Chenle’s face falls. 

“Oh,” Chenle says. “Oh.” He swallows. Jisung is frozen, frozen where he stands. “Maybe you should go,” he says, softly. 

And Jisung thinks his heart breaks. 

He goes. 




He doesn’t go home, no, he can’t bear to. He ends up downtown, curling up on the edge of a walking bridge and pulling his journal from his backpack. Slowly, page by page, he tears the paper out and throws it into the river below, ripping each piece into shreds. 

He has to destroy any and all evidence. 

He’s so not okay. 

Jisung has always hated himself, he really, really, always has. And this? This is just making it so much worse. 

“Hey.” 

Jisung turns, and promptly turns back away upon seeing Donghyuck. He can’t deal with one of his friends right now. 

Donghyuck comes and sits beside Jisung anyway. Jisung closes his journal and stuffs it back in his bag. 

“‘Sup,” Donghyuck says. “Chenle sent me.” 

And that’s just enough to have Jisung dissolving into tears. “He hates me,” Jisung wails. “I ruined everything and he hates me.” 

Donghyuck simply sighs. Pulls Jisung into his arms and cradles the back of his head with one hand, the other firmly on Jisung’s back. Jisung cries the hardest he thinks he ever has. Donghyuck doesn’t shush him, he just lets Jisung cry it all out, until he’s out of tears and his head hurts awfully bad. 

“Hey, buddy,” Donghyuck says. “I think I know what’ll make you feel better.” 

“Nothing,” Jisung grumbles. 

Donghyuck chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go back to my place.” 

Jisung begrudgingly stands. Allows Donghyuck to drag him deeper downtown. Jisung isn’t sure where they’re headed. It’s been a minute since he’s been to Donghyuck’s, but he didn’t think he lived around here. 

Donghyuck drags him to a little apartment building by the river, pressing a buzzer. The door clicks. 

They head up the elevator. 825, the door says. Eighth floor. Jisung could’ve sworn—

The door swings open, and Mark peeks his head through. 

“Oh, hey, Donghyuck. I wasn’t expecting you.” He opens the door all the way and his eyes widen. “Jisung!” He smiles. Then his smile falls. “Are you alright?” 

Jisung’s lower lip wobbles. 

“Come in,” Mark says. He ushers them inside and they kick off their shoes. Mark sits Jisung down on the couch of a small studio apartment, Mark’s bed crammed into the corner, amongst all sorts of music things. A guitar. A keyboard. Who knows what else. 

Donghyuck drags Mark to the kitchen, where they talk quietly for a moment, then exit. 

“Jisungie, um.” Mark scratches the back of his neck. “You okay?” 

Jisung sniffles. Shakes his head. “Hyung,” he says. “Chenle hates me.” 

“Okay,” Mark says. “Do you wanna share why Chenle hates you?” 

“I can’t,” Jisung says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll hate me too.” 

“Bud, listen.” Mark throws his arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “There is nothing you could do that’d make me hate you.” 

Jisung swallows. It isn’t any less scary the second time. “Even if I’m gay?” he whispers. 

“Even if you’re gay,” Mark says, giving Jisung’s shoulder a squeeze. “Alright?” 

Jisung sniffles. “You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Jisung sighs, dropping his head onto his hyung’s shoulder. He’s exhausted. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Donghyuck asks, sitting on the floor before them. 

Jisung shrugs. “I just … I told him and he told me to leave.” 

“Talk to him,” Mark says. “He doesn’t hate you, alright? I promise.” 

Jisung doesn’t believe him. “Then why’d he tell me to leave?” 

“You know Chenle,” Donghyuck snorts. “He’s a bit of a disaster when it comes to feelings.” 

Jisung frowns. “Feelings?” 

“Just talk to him,” Mark says. “Seriously. It’ll be alright.” 

“I haven’t even told my parents,” Jisung mumbles. “I’m too scared.” 

Mark bites his lip. “Well.” He glances at Donghyuck. 

“You’ll always have us.” 




Jisung stands outside the front door of his house and, slowly, knocks. He forgot his keys that morning. His mother answers the door. “Oh, there you are,” she gushes. “Jisungie, it’s so late! Where were you? It’s past your curfew,” she scolds him gently. 

Jisung sniffles. “Mom,” he says. “I love you.” 

“Oh, I know, sweetie, I love you too.” She pats his cheek. “Have you had dinner? We were just about to sit down. Come eat.” 

Jisung has to blink back tears as he eats with his family. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to tell them. 

He tucks in early that night. Curls up under the covers and puts his phone on do not disturb. If Chenle texts him, he doesn’t want to hear it. 

And then he dozes off. 



The next morning, Jisung’s stag beetle has passed away. He can tell the moment he looks at it. Rigor Mortis happens in bugs too. 

Jisung doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost his best friend, he’s lost his stag beetle. He sort of just wants to hide in bed all day. 

So he does. Their exam is in a day and Jisung curls up under the covers and gives his mother a few pathetic, weak coughs when she comes in to ask if he’s going to school. 

His mother brings him soup around noon, entering his room and frowning upon seeing his beetle. She coos. “I’m sorry, Sungie,” she says. “I know they only last a few months but it’s sad every time.” She sighs. “Would you like another?” 

Jisung shrugs. 

His mother frowns. “You wanted another last time.” She sits at the foot of his bed, setting the bowl down on his bedside table. She reaches out, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. “No fever. That’s good.” 

“Mom,” Jisung says. “I …” He can’t sit with this any longer. “I need to tell you something.” And if he doesn’t tell his mother about Chenle, he’ll burst!

His mother purses her lips. “Are you finally going to tell me what’s been going on with you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

She gives him a look. “A mother always knows when her baby’s upset.” She pats Jisung’s cheek. “And you’ve been awfully off lately.” 

“Oh.” Jisung hadn’t … “I’m gay, Mom,” he says. “And I really like Chenle.” He swallows. “But when I told him, he told me to go.” 

His mother sighs. “Oh, sweetheart,” she says. She pats his hair. “I’m sorry about Chenle. I know how much you like him.” 

“You do?” 

She chuckles. “It’s a little obvious.” She tucks a few strands of hair behind Jisung’s ear. “And I told you, I always love you. I’m your mother.” 

“I’m not actually sick,” Jisung blurts. 

She laughs, then winks. 

“I know.” 



Renjun stops by that afternoon with a bag of Jisung’s favorite jellies and notes from Chenle. “Hey,” he says. “Heard you were sick.” He offers Jisung a smile, and shakes the bag of jellies. “Here.” 

Jisung takes them, looking at them. “Renjun hyung, thank you.” 

“It’s no problem, Ji.” Renjun pinches Jisung’s cheek. “You’re just too cute.” 

“Thanks.” 

Renjun smiles. “I gotta run home but.” He smiles. “Hope you feel better. And talk to Chenle.” 

Why does everyone keep telling him that? 

Jisung hums absentmindedly and bids Renjun goodbye. He shuts the door and retreats back to his room. 



That night, the night before their exam, and Jisung can’t sleep. 

Chenle texts him. Just a simple ‘meet me at the park’ followed by a ‘please’. 

So Jisung gets out of bed and reluctantly trudges to the park. He spots Chenle from afar. Chenle’s sitting on the swings, pushing himself back and forth with his foot. 

Jisung stands a few feet away. 

Chenle looks up, then back down. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t hate you.” 

“I hate you.” It couldn’t be less true. 

“I’m sure you do.” Chenle sighs. “Jisung, look, I—” Chenle looks up at him, something vulnerable in his gaze. Something Jisung’s never seen before. He sighs again. Groans and pulls at his hair. 

“What is it?” Jisung asks. 

Chenle stands from the swing and stalks straight over to Jisung. He looks sort of constipated. 

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks. 

“Park Jisung,” Chenle says. In the lamppost’s light, Chenle’s ears are dark red. Chenle opens his mouth, then shuts it. Buries his face in his hands and screams. 

“Dude …” Jisung reaches for him a bit, only for Chenle to lift his head, grab Jisung’s face with his hands, and kiss him. 

By the time Jisung’s processed exactly what Chenle’s done, he’s pulled away and is walking away. 

“Chenle!” Jisung’s voice cracks. He hurries after him, grabbing his wrist and giving him a tug. Chenle won’t look at him. 

“I like you,” Chenle says, looking up at the sky. “Alright? I like you so much I don’t know what to do, and it really scares me, okay?” He sighs. “I told you to go because … because I didn’t know what else to do.” Chenle pulls his wrist free and hugs himself. “Alright?” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sorry,” Chenle says. He takes a few steps back before running off but Jisung tackles him on instinct. They land on the wood chips with a whump. 

Jisung quickly rolls off of him, but grabs his hand and holds it tight. There are wood chips stuck to his clothes and in his hair but he doesn’t care. “Chenle,” Jisung says. “I like you so much.” 

Chenle’s head turns to see him so quickly Jisung’s worried about his neck. “Seriously?” 

“Yes,” Jisung says, laughing a bit. “But jeez, you’re really stupid.” 

“Shut up!” Chenle sits up and Jisung joins him. And there they sit, in the middle of the playground, in the wood chips. Jisung’s still holding Chenle’s hand. He goes to let go but Chenle squeezes it. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Chenle asks, something hopeful in his gaze. “Actually, this time.” 

Jisung flushes, but nods. “Yeah,” he says. 

And Chenle kisses him. He cups Jisung’s cheek with his free hand as Jisung melts, kissing him back. It’s not quite what Jisung expected. Chenle’s lips aren’t so chapped, they’re sort of plush, actually. Jisung lifts his free hand from the wood chips and grabs Chenle’s shirt with it, tilting his head. Their mouths fit together nicely, but it is sorta gross. 

Jisung pulls away. “That’s kind of gross,” he says. “We should do it again.” 

Chenle laughs. “I guess it is. But I agree.” 

And he kisses Jisung once more.

 

 

Notes:

Hope you all enjoyed my first chenji fic in a Very long time. This fic was largely inspired by 'boys will be bugs' by cavetown, and i really wanted to capture the teen boy feelings and experience. I love Chenji so much, and Chenle is just so Boy that I wanted to really capture that.

Thanks for reading!!!! :]

 

twt