Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chenle had underestimated just how hot it would be.

It’s Warped Tour, her manager had said. You’ll be living in a bus all summer. Easy. Chenle had lived out of a van for two years in the early days of their band's life, pressed together so tight that her shoulder would chafe rubbing against Renjun’s. 

If their manager had been preparing them for discomfort, Chenle thought she could manage. Her way of life was all about being uncomfortable. She lived for it, signed her life away to it willingly when she joined Sorry Heart. She accepted the hours of finger-numbing guitar practice followed by sleepless nights of drinking too heavily and scribbling never-ending pages of lyrics. To infinite miles of road racing beneath her feet and living life with nothing tethering you, to not having an apartment and being virtually homeless. A drifter: through life, through experiences. The only thrill being the uncertainty of it all zipping across her skin like electricity. 

But it was never disclosed just how hot it would be.

She gets it; it's summer. How stupid of her to not think it would be sweltering, right? But this heat was different. It was unbearable, not uncomfortable. She was from Chicago, where the city annually froze over and thawed to a nice, swampy, humid type of hotness. Where there might be a few days that were stifling, but you could dip into Lake Michigan or eat some Italian ice and cool down easily.

This heat was southern heat, a deadly weapon that was just as strong in the day as it was at night. She was used to a heat she could get used to and adjust her body to easily. A heat that could be accepted. Now, she had to accept her bra sticking to her skin, her hair plastered to the back of her neck with sweat. When they had started in Wisconsin, she had thought it would be easy. How naive she was. 

They had arrived in Dallas that morning, their bus rolling through the wide open spaces of cattle farms and corn fields as they slept. Chenle was still getting used to being in a moving vehicle while lying down in a cot; her years of sleeping in cars had been done solely while sitting upright. But it was cool to have a bed. If shut her eyes and thought hard enough, she could pretend she was in a rocket ship, blasting through the galaxy. If she really wanted to get creative, she was on the Millennium Falcon. And if she was drunk, Princess Leia was also in bed with her.

The Texan heat was palpable, hitting her like a physical wall as she stepped out of the bus. Her armpits were already starting to sweat, the backs of her knees starting to get slippery under her jorts. She just wanted to take a quick lap around the grounds, maybe smoke, maybe go steal food from a neighboring bus and fuck off back to her bed and write some more. The less time under the sun, the better. 

There were a few people loitering around just like her, probably leaving their buses with the exact same motivation she had. A cigarette was the only way to cope with everything. Or, at least, it took the edge off. 

The first couple of days of the tour had been such a whirlwind, so new, Chenle really hadn’t had a chance to just sit and look. To really take it all in and people watch. She ties her short hair up in a ponytail at the base of her skull so she can slip a baseball cap on. Even with the new shade it provides, and her dark sunglasses she always wears, the morning light is still so bright. She fishes her pack of Marlboro Reds out of her back pocket. 

Hot smoke in her lungs, hot day on her skin. Sweltering. Hot, hot, hot. This tour is preparing her well for when she goes to hell. 

A bright flash of white catches her attention from across the pseudo neighborhood of buses, her head jerking to see what it could be. Amongst the stray lawn chairs and grills sits another girl, her bleached hair stark against the green Texas fields. She’s too far to see clearly, but Chenle thinks she might know who it is: Jaemin Na from Dive Into You. They’re a band that popped up the same as Sorry Heart, but from somewhere on the east coast as opposed to the midwest. Their first single had been about some tragedy they had lived through. Chenle had heard it, and had really appreciated the kind of abstract storytelling they used. It was called Unknown? Maybe? She had Renjun listen to it, too, which had only been met with a response of, ‘they need a keyboardist stat’.  

Chenle was used to seeing Donghyuck, their lead woman, with her long black hair and cute lips. She was the new ‘it girl’ of the scene, plastered on the front of a couple Kerrang! covers the past year. She knew Mark, too, their rhythm guitarist. Everyone else in the band Chenle only recognized somewhat vaguely, just by their name. Jaemin was an enigma, a face she had only seen on a shitty monitor at some random library in Indiana on one of their rare off days. Even then she had been beautiful, strikingly big eyes and an even bigger mouth always fixed in a stoic frown. But that’s all Chenle knew of her. She didn’t know they had also been booked for Warped Tour, too preoccupied with the increasing speed of the life she was living to know anything else about anyone else.

But they were here. She was here, sitting across from Chenle now in her pajama shorts and big, white t-shirt. Dive Into You has such a specific, dark aesthetic it almost feels illegal to see her… casual . Chenle takes one long last drag of her cigarette before stomping through the uncut grass in search of a burger. 

She can’t even believe she’s saying that, that it’s a reality. She’s at Warped Tour. The fact that they're hot enough to book a ticket like this is mind-blowing. All those years of driving into the city for gigs at bottom of the barrel venues to… this. Traveling around the country to perform because people all over the country love them. She can’t believe that, either.

Adoration is a fickle thing. She’s been in venues where the audience has been almost violent, had things thrown at her. One gig in Dubuque had resulted in someone rushing the stage and trying to steal her keyboard. The extremity of which a scale can tip for you is nauseating. Now that she was getting a taste of how good she could be treated, she wasn’t sure if she could stand to go back to obscurity.

Later, after a day of preparing for her set, performing and avoiding the heat as much as she possibly could, Chenle finds herself heading to Dive Into You’s set. Whether it’s to see Jaemin, to see if they would perform her favorite song, or if it’s to sniff out competition, she‘s not really sure. She had rushed over as fast as she could after her own, even changing her clothes after her brief improvised water-bottle-shower. They’re already in the swing of things when she shows up.

It’s amazing how the same stage can be transformed based on whoever's playing. Chenle suddenly feels lame as fuck watching them perform. They’re theatrical, impossibly cool. The atmosphere is heady with energy, live with something bloodthirsty. Donghyuck’s white foundation is melting off her face in ghoulish anguish, the smoked makeup around her eyes making her look hollow and sickly. She’s a sight to behold, a true performer, speaking to the crowd like she‘s conducting a sermon. The sea of pink faces before her enraptured by her every word, repeating them back to her in a steady chant.

The only other member wearing makeup is the other guitarist. Chenle doesn’t know her name, yet she recognizes her from her shoddy research. She is tall and slender, head bent over her guitar like it's another one of her limbs. She has long, black hair that falls across most of her face, but it periodically shifts to reveal her pouty lips and her dark eyes covered in thick black x’s. 

Mark looks pedestrian next to those two in her simple black shirt and baggy black jeans laced with an infinite amount of pockets. Her long hair shakes in time with her playing, a lip pulled between her teeth in concentration. 

Jaemin is on the side farthest from Chenle. She’s shifting through her peripherals like a mirage, unable to be focused on when she really tries to look. Unable to study her entirely while she still has the freedom to do so.

She’s beautiful. So different from the girl that was curled up in a lawn chair this morning, yet still the same. Two articles of clothing cut from the same cloth. She’s completely calm as she plucks at her bass strings, white hair glowing in the stage lights. Her lips are pink, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. She’s so effortlessly cool, so different from the others, yet so intrinsic to their ragtag team of thespians. They all create such an odd yet colorful cast of characters.

Her shirt is stretched and torn, a large gash exposing her mid drift. Her low rise jeans leave little to the imagination, the scraps of her shirt barely saving her from being indecent onstage. If she wasn’t entirely stood still, there would be a wardrobe malfunction. Chenle knows her ears are pink, feels herself gulping down something building in her throat. Jaemin’s hot, they all kind of are. But she just is something else. Something inside of her calls out and wants to be known.

They play Chenle’s favorite song before they leave the stage but she stays just long enough to hear only the first chorus.

Chapter Text

The next morning they arrive in Houston. They are passing through these cities quickly, each day feeling like arriving at a new cardboard set of a sitcom. Chenle can only hope she impresses the live studio audience.

She has the same routine planned for this morning: Go out, smoke, scavenge, then sleep. Her pack of cigarettes presses firmly against her leg from the pocket of her skinny jeans, calling her name. Jeno had kept her up all last night with her snoring and no amount of music in her headphones could drown out the rhythm of it. Having one hot meal in her stomach will hopefully help her pass out.

The first inhale of smoke eases the itching in the back of her neck instantly. She notices Jaemin across the grass just as she had yesterday morning. This time, the girl is walking, almost pacing. Chenle observes her, always her spectator.

The Dive Into You show yesterday was incredible. Really inspiring. Chenle really hasn’t been able to see a lot of performances over the past couple months. She used to love to keep up with the scene, but since she has been so busy working on their next album, she’s been unable to go out and watch live music. Whether she’s writing or trying to write, it takes up so much of her time she‘s had to sacrifice things that used to bring her joy. And any time that she doesn’t spend writing she‘s either blogging or sleeping. There isn’t even enough time to eat these days, let alone breathe.

She loves her job, she loves her life. But sometimes things move by in such smudges of color everything blurs and the season has changed or her hair is three inches longer and she can’t recall anything about the time that’s passed. The only proof she’s been cognizant are the songs she’s finished working on or the cords she’s written. She’ll go back through her Livejournal entries and try to put some pieces together. ‘Oh I did this that day? I guess I did’. The dirt on the bottom of her shoes is proof she went on that hike, the burn holes in her shirts are proof she finished the last of her cigarettes. She was smoking one now, lest she forget. She taps it lightly, the ash blowing away in the wind.

“Can I bum one off you?”

Chenle’s pulled from the recesses of her mind like a snap of an elastic band, the sting of a bra strap. In front of her is Jaemin. She must have lost track of her, too.

Up close, her face is unreal. Her eyes are huge and glittering, framed with dark eyelashes. The slope of her nose is soft in the white morning sun. Her lips look as pink as they had last night and Chenle can’t believe how unfair it can be, how it can be so easy for some people. For Jaemin to look perfect, to be perfect. She’s all pink and bright in their world of dirt and stains.

Chenle fumbles with the pack so hard she almost fears she’s squished the contents. “Sure! Of course. Have as many as you like.”

Jaemin cocks her head as she smiles, hair cascading across her shoulder. “One should be fine. But good to know.”

She smells sweet. It’s something Chenle wouldn’t have been able to pick up on yesterday because of their distance from being on and off stage. But she smells amazing, like spun sugar. How that’s even possible while living out of a bus, Chenle has no clue.

“I saw you out here yesterday morning, too.” Chenle says, stating a fact. She then realizes how what she says sounds, realizes how crazy it makes her seem. “I mean, I wasn’t looking for you. Just seemed to notice you were the only one. Out here. With me, I mean.”

Jaemin smiles wider, thumbs the filter of the cigarette she hasn’t lit yet. “Yeah. I like getting the most out of my day. Starting early with some stretches, you know? Otherwise, you can lose yourself in all this.” She gestures broadly to all the buses, to the sleepy staff that are unloading the same amps as they had been the past few days. “It can turn a little Groundhog Day-ish if I don’t have a routine.”

“I so get it. I have a routine, too!”

Jaemin sways closer, interested. “What is it?”

“Well, I wake up, smoke. Stretch my legs a little. Try and eat breakfast,” Chenle lists, using her fingers to keep track. “Then I’ll go write or sleep again.”

“You write?”

Chenle nods, pride bursting in her chest. “I do. I write all the songs we sing. Most of the music, too.”

Jaemin’s eyes sparkle. “That’s really awesome, dude. Like really cool. How do you find inspiration?”

“Honestly, a lot of things help me. It could be the weather, some stupid shit I’m going through. Even seeing a really cool performance can be motivating. Like you guys last night.”

“You came and saw our set?” Jaemin asks, as curious as she is wary.

Chenle nods. “I did. I realized I hadn’t seen you guys perform yet. I mean, we are performing on the same stage. Why not just stick around a little bit and see what you guys get up to?”

Jaemin’s quiet for a second, deliberating. “That’s so nice you came and watched. I would have come to see your’s if I had known.”

Chenle raises her hand to put an end to that thought. “It was spur of the moment, to be honest. It’s like you said, stuff kind of gets kind of boring unless you make the most of your day.”

It’s then that Jaemin steps closer, her perfume going through Chenle’s nose and down into her nervous system. She reaches out, worming her fingers into the front pocket of Chenle’s pants. She is still frozen like a frightened animal. She feels like she’s going to suffocate now that Jaemin’s perfectly moist cupid's bow is only a few inches away, and that her hair is starting to stick to Chenle’s bicep. All the nicotine has fizzled out of her bloodstream. She’s going to need about twenty cigarettes to calm down after this. 

After digging around for a few seconds, she pinches Chenle’s lighter and fishes it out. Seeing it between Jaemin’s fingers makes the backs of her knees sweat harder. She manages to grit out a strangled, “You could have just asked for it, you know?”

When Chenle had lost her last lighter, she had stuck three, shiny gold star stickers to the front of it to ensure it was identifiable. It’s funny to see them shine from underneath Jaemin’s calloused fingers now. Chenle’s gifted cigarette is between her rose lips, her cheeks dipping in as she sucks in inorder to light it. Blue smoke passes between them like a spirit, like Chenle’s soul ascending and leaving her body.

“You’re so sweet. Thank you for letting me steal one. What are you doing tomorrow?” 

Chenle could be meeting the president tomorrow and she would still reschedule for Jaemin. She almost doesn’t hear the question, brain getting lost somewhere after Jamein called her sweet. “Hm? Tomorrow? Where are we going to be?”

“Selma. I don’t really know what’s fun to do there, but maybe we could watch a movie or something?”

Holy shit. Pressed up against Jaemin in this hot ass Texas weather. She already knows she's going to be sweating her ass off. 

“Sure! Yeah, that sounds great!” 

Jaemin smiles around the filter. She hands the lighter back, their fingers brushing. Chenle’s ears feel like they’re on fire. “Awesome. See you then?” She’s already backing away, walking slowly like she doesn't want the moment to end. Chenle nods, unable to get any more words out of her throat. She’s definitely not tired anymore, but her stomach still growls. Right, breakfast. 

She didn’t mean to find herself at their set again, but it’s as if her feet just took her there without asking. Her docs must be specially programmed, hacked in the night by aliens and using artificial intelligence to ruin her life.

She chooses to stand on the other side of the stage today. Jaemin’s side. She’s still exposed to Donghyuck’s haunting soliloquy of lyrics and poems, yet it all dims behind the curtain of blonde hair spilling over Jaemin’s shoulder. She’s illuminated in the lights, just as she was yesterday, yet now she looks like an angel rather than a ghost. 

Chenle loves music: it saved her life. She’s lucky enough to be able to share it with the world, with people who care about her. It’s how she earns a living, how she is able to eat and sleep comfortably everyday. It’s what she’s most passionate about and she can recognize when someone feels for it as deeply as she does. 

Jaemin has it. That thing she has too, whatever sick bug that’s made them like this. Chenle watches her fingers skate along the strings of her bass, can feel the confidence radiating off her in thick waves. She can see her back, arms and chest working, digging deep and giving her all into the performance. It’s the euphoria of everything sounding just right, the magic of coordinating all of the band’s individual sounds and blending them into one beautiful smoothie.

They sound good. Really good. Since Chenle spent yesterday’s performance sizing them all up in a businessy way, she can appreciate the sound now. All the songs are sounding more familiar, the chord progressions more easily admired. She only realizes she’s swaying when the music comes to an end and she has to ease to a stop. 

It’s at the same moment Jaemin picks up her head, finally broken of the spell that has had a hold over her the second she strapped into her bass. She looks out into the crowd, Chenle tracking the small movements of her eyes and the quirking of the corners of her lips. She’s happy, she’s satisfied. Chenle feels a wave of a heavy emotion roll through her, yet she can’t put a name to it. 

In her scan, Jaemin finds Chenle. She looks shocked at first, but quickly schools her initial reaction into an easy smile. Chenle returns it, giving two big thumbs up. “Good Gig!” She mouths. Jaemin must be able to read her lips because she laughs and gives a thumbs up back.

“We only have one last song this evening for you” Donghyuck bemoans, the mic cord looped in her hands as she walks across the stage like a caged tiger. Her face is covered in clown white, and drops of white sweat have as she’s spattered onto the bulletproof vest she's using as a shirt. The look works for her, like she's a crypt from another world. The audience boos and Donghyuck sighs into the mic. “I know, it’s so unfortunate. But you had fun, right?” 

It’s immediate; electric. The screams sprout goosebumps on Chenle’s arms, stealing her breath. When she’s on stage, she’s a receptacle for that energy, but as a bystander, as a member of that masses, she’s in awe of the power. She feels herself answering in her own cheer, cupping her hands over her mouth to project it to the band. Jaemin’s still watching her, and now her smile turns toothy. 

There’s a count of drumsticks, a ‘let’s go!’ and they’re thrust back into it. It’s perfect. It’s how life should be. 

Chenle dips before it ends to try and beat the crowds.