#the joyous rapturous cheering and chanting

[luckiestmushroom]

thinking about how Sunday's boss theme (A Thousand Suns) has a heartbeat in the middle of it and, I don't know the Meaning, but those Implications Frighten me

[hanibalistic]

#B8C3FF | LEE JENO.

genre | romance, fluff

word count | 1141

warning | brief mention of biting self.​

note | hi, it’s jeno time.

"i want to stand close to the lights."

jeno perked up. he raised his head from the position most comfortable for him to stare at the gaps between the bleachers and looked ahead at the empty football stadium. 

the nightlight stayed on half an hour after the final match, casting silent shadows over where cheers and chants once lived. the faded silhouettes of the cheer squad, the marching band, the vast audience, and the football team lingered behind their spirit and scent, signaling the end to another class of seniors.

jeno raised his brows with indifference. he was used to this place. he has been under the lights before, running and sweating. the desire to be under those lights or in the center of the football field was not something he thought about. it wasn’t anything extraordinary.

“why?” he asked. “it’s bright down there.”

“i like the light,” you said as you stood up from your seat, your eyes trained on the nightlights as you stepped toward the stairs and made your way down. “i would like to be blinded.”

his eyes widened a fraction, not in surprise but in defeat, one where his eyes screamed ahead into the void as he tried to decipher what you meant exactly. other than the football field, jeno was also used to this. it was not unlike you to voice your ultimately preposterous thoughts, and this was not even your worst one yet; wordy sentences of faith, cosmos, and borderline cannibalistic affection were common in your verbal dictionary. he only wished your dictionary gave out definitions.

after a few more impatient shakes of his leg, he exhaled with a short lick of his lower lip that quirked into a smirk, and his neck gave out, causing his head to slump downward. he forced his sore body to stand up then, and as he did so, he ran a hand through his hair to fix its disarray. you were already halfway down the bleachers when he began to follow you down, and he jogged and skipped steps to catch up.

the lights were blinding, just as jeno halfheartedly warned you of, but it was precisely this kind of piercing gleam that you wanted to feel. the air was chilly, but you liked the goosebumps on your arms. sparing yourself a spin, you basked in the sight of the empty stadium and submerged yourself into the atmosphere—the cold air a godly awakening, the night sky a blank and dark canvas, and the bright light that contrasted it something of dreamy rapture. 

you would like to be blinded by this environment, be forever stuck in this subtle excitement of being the god of an empty space. 

jeno shoved his hands in his pockets when he halted to a stop. he strolled toward you but decided to stay a few steps behind so he wouldn’t disrupt the blissful carnival your body was experiencing. your arms opened wide as you stumbled in slow and erratic circles, your eyes focused on the dust illuminated by the stadium lights. 

“is it really this fun?” he asked, genuine curiosity painted his lips.

you looked at him and nodded. “there is no one else here, this field is empty, and the world is mine for once.”

he hummed in approval, joyous that you felt so despite feeling the opposite.

he needed people around. the only times he felt like the world was his was when there were people around him, and noises of beepers with cheer pom-poms, and he was bumping fists with his teammates for another round of a sport you convinced him to get into in the first place.

come to think of it, you were the one who persuaded him to join the school’s football team. not the coach who saw potential in him during pe class and continuously pestered him about it, nor was it his friends who were already part of the team and thought he would be an amazing addition to the team due to his natural athletic physique. 

it was you, when you looked at him with an unknowing gleam of curiosity after he struggled to make small talk with you, and you told him it would be fun to be part of the football team while knowing nothing of it. 

why did he listen to you? he barely knew you back then; you two were paired for a project and only met once to twice a week. was it your honest disposition? the fact that you were genuine in everything you said? was it because you have proven to be right about almost every random thing you’ve said in passing, so it must be that joining the football team would be fun?

you were right about fairies living in mushroom houses, and there was one at the corner of your school by the south gate. you were right about the brownies that loitered in the library, shelving books and leaving some out for those who would need them. you were right about love when you told him it felt like biting your own arm off and throwing it into the river, and when the river turns red, you know your love is real.

ridiculous, preposterous things you’ve said; things about the gentleness of the world, the beauty in magic that should not have existed, the intelligence in believing. 

jeno tilted his head so he could lean his mind closer to the warmth of his heart, and he hoped his heart realized that it all came from him looking at the happiness on your face. 

ridiculous, preposterous things you’ve said, like the greatness of being alive and the miracle of falling in love. 

you convinced him to join the football team, but his final high school match was the only one you’ve been to. yet, while the world was his on the football field, everything died away the second he found you in the crowd. the world faded into black, into the vacuum of his hands, and he cast its light onto you, the person his world belonged to. 

“how are you feeling, jeno?” you shouted at him from across the field, which surprised the boy because he did not notice you straying that far away from him.

you stood small and alone beneath the nightlight, grinning and jumping to get his attention. he breathed, the soreness in his joint from the match softening until he was putty and melt before your presence. this was what it looked like whenever he saw you. this was a visual manifestation of how his heart viewed you—bright, gleaming, a star walking on two feet. 

jeno fished his hands out from his pockets and cupped them around his mouth, amplifying his voice when he shouted a reply from across the stadium to you.

“i feel like biting my arm off!”