#the silly... i made him fuzzier n stuff this time

[squishosaur]

did you know.... i'm in love with him... 🥺

[dreamiesdotcom]

sunrise, moonset | h.rj

Summary: You two were like sunset; that brief moment of alignment between two, a connection caused by the nature of the universe itself — that breathlessly beautiful moment where silver meets gold, even within the shortest time.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Happy Halloween <3 don’t be fooled this isn’t horror.

Renjun knows better than to fall in love.

He doesn’t remember why, he just knows it isn’t as fun and he can’t handle so many heartbreaks. It’s all pure deduction, of course, Renjun never really fell in love that hard. He’s had a couple of relationships, sure, a fair share; it’s just that he is all too good at that game.

At least, he was, until he realized that easy just doesn’t exist.

Easy shouldn’t be this difficult. Easy shouldn’t be this painful, easy shouldn’t be this damaging — simple wasn’t supposed to be this hard to understand. From that point forward, he just busies himself ruining pretty much everything.

He tried not thinking of the future — after all, it doesn’t do anything but give you faux certainty, all while doing it’s best to fragilize you. He insists he doesn’t want easy — even through gritted teeth, he insists he doesn’t want easy. Easy just won’t come, and if it takes so much suffering, then he doesn’t want it.

Renjun stopped painting — the world was too cruel to be immortalized. He stopped singing, too, even if he only ever sung to himself back then and nobody ever heard his voice. He stopped writing poetry and studying his troublesome maths and went to do his usual business, pretty much a zombie. He just… kind of stopped.

His world stopped moving, and he was destroying himself, but he was too tired to care. Everything he’s built, everyone he’s treasured, his passions, his feelings — he needed to stop hurting all of them, so he left. Renjun was too tired to care, but he loved just like that; even when he gets exhausted, he couldn’t help but fight for what should be done to not hurt anybody else more.

He loves that way; places himself after everyone and calls it love.

That wasn’t love. That was a terrible example of what selfish people thought love was.

So, Renjun knows better than to fall in love. How could he? He might’ve memorized the exact denotation of that word, but he barely even understands it! He doesn’t know.

He also doesn’t know how he met you — you were just kind of there, popped up out of nowhere, and smiled at him, even though he didn’t return it. He doesn’t push you away, only because he does like your company — he just really isn’t expressive. Kind of complicated, wired like a maze. You were there and you stayed for months, a very long time — Renjun knew better, but he doesn’t really know.

The only thing he is certain of is that he, Huang Renjun, thinks you two are a bit like the sun and moon — him, the lovely shade of gold, and you, the pristine hue of silver. You two were just too different. It’s almost like you were worlds apart, timelines distant and entwined by broken strings of fate.

And still, you were always the one to try to understand him. You were always the one he finds himself walking back to, answering your odd questions just like this one: “How does it feel to feel empty?”

“Honestly, it feels good to be empty… it feels kind of nice, to feel nothing, just like that..” Renjun drawls out, a bit unsure. Curious eyes await what words would come next — Renjun couldn’t continue fast enough, he realizes that he happened to be so good at lying that it became like second nature to him. Is he lying, or is it real? He clears his throat, “I find comfort in knowing that tomorrow, I will feel nothing again, and it would be okay.”

Renjun concludes that from now on, everything that leaves his mouth about himself that doesn’t involve you is a half-truth.

There’s something quite strange and difficult about you, he’s always noticed. It’s like you’re so special, just slightly not quite like him; your eyes look like they held whatever anyone wants to see, your lips dripped of words that was nothing but comfort. You also seem to be able to read his mind.

“What are you running away from, huh?”

What else should I run away from?

Renjun thinks of the day at the lake — he finally picked up his pencil and sketched the landscape, regretted that he didn’t bring his watercolor again after so long. He comes home and sets up his canvas, picks up a brush, and brings a scenery back to life with paint in a way nobody did quite like him. He does his homework after; he feels oddly fueled, even without coffee. He maps out what kind of future he wants for himself, a happy one. He thinks of ways he can make it work. He writes and he sings and he presses the dusty keys of his piano, the sound so familiarly strange. He drops all the shortcuts and accepts the challenge.

Renjun kept on thinking about how silly he was, running away from himself.

“Nothing,” he smiles.

He feels kind of strange, kind of exposed like this, eating his thoughts about half-truths because with that look in your eyes, so trusting and hopeful that he doesn’t lie, how in the world was he meant to be not genuine? He thinks before proceeding, considering the weight of his words, “I have nothing to run from anymore, now that I have you.”

Renjun thinks of how he’s wearing something different right now, simply because he always wore sweaters and stuff — he didn’t like the way his skin was so pale and lifeless. He also wears his glasses today; he used to only wear them when necessary back then so that for most of his days he saw the world in light leaks and blurs of motion around him. He leaves his hair a mess on top of his head. He doesn’t bother with anything aside from running his hands through it after showering, unlike back then when he would always mess with it for more than an hour.

He thinks of how he stopped trying so hard to not be who he was when his world was still spinning, erasing any trace of softness and anything that reminds him of who truly was, his little way of escaping himself. Then he thinks of how he stopped doing just that.

He sees the world clearly and he sees you clearly, though there was always this soft glow around you, much like a crown of soft light that you always wore. It makes him feel a bit warm with everything a little fuzzier, kind of dream-like, as if an illusion — it was like things were less real, maybe even less overwhelming, more heartfelt. Renjun finds a twisted pleasure in the surreal nature of these moments with you.

You smile at him, “Are you happy?”

“The happiest.” He reflects your expression, nodding enthusiastically. He closes his eyes only to open them again, trying to blink away all the happy tears. Renjun beams brighter, “Be here with me forever, yeah?”

He doesn’t get a reply, no promises made, but he does get what felt like a kiss on his forehead, feather-like and gentle, so very heavenly. He finds himself succumbing to sleep, content and warm, void of anything else but happiness. For an unknown reason, a tear rolls down his eyes.

He was just so happy like that, he couldn’t help but do so.

He wakes up the day after as if he was in a dream — a nightmare, maybe, but nightmares weren’t supposed to be so gently painful. Nightmares used to be a constant guest in his sleep — he knows more than anyone what they feel like; he knows the harsh tug at his chest and the terror in his mind, the desperate need to wake up. It was none of that. It’s a dream.

He knows that it was a dream, something beautiful, so lovely that he couldn’t help but cry, if the lingering feeling of dried tears on his cheeks was anything to go by.

His eyes roam around his room, which happens to be, unlike before, neat and organized. He looks at the empty corners, the door tightly shut, the walls painted a pale blue decorated with his paintings that he finally decided to hang. He slept too much again; it’s already noon, he notices when he glances at the window.

Laughter bubbles up from his throat a little, then he realizes again that oh, you two — you’re really, really different. You two are still different, so very different from each other. Though, rather than sun and moon both on their highest points at different times, Renjun concludes that you two are like sunset — sunset, moonrise; sunrise — sunrise, moonset — one is going up and the other is going down, that brief moment of alignment between the two, a connection caused by the nature of the universe itself. That breathlessly beautiful moment where silver meets gold, even within the shortest time.

Renjun wakes up to the sight of no one and realizes that he woke up from a dream, back to a nightmare. He feels a tear roll down his cheek again.

Renjun was supposed to know better than to fall in love with a ghost.