right wrist, left ankle, heart [2/2] [for yummyda]
one | part two
It takes just over two weeks for Jaebum to cohesively learn all of the percussion in their concert setlist. Long days spent drumming in Mark and Jackson's basement, tumbling into longer nights spent practising his voice, trying to find the perfect volume so he can be heard on the microphone over the drums without overshadowing the others who will be singing too. Since Jackson's allergic to sleeping over four hours a night, he often stays up jamming with Jaebum into the wee hours, singing accompaniment, slapping Jaebum whenever Jaebum is about to keel over with fatigue. Sometimes Mark joins them too, sitting like a schoolboy on the ratty old beanbag, his sprained ankle propped up on a nearby crate, playing games on his phone or reading comics borrowed from Youngjae. He offers advice infrequently, usually content to listen to Jaebum, tapping his good foot along with the beat and humming tunelessly to the song chorus. Sometimes he stuffs in a pair of ear plugs and falls asleep leaning against the wall, clutching a small cushion to his stomach like a stuffed animal. Jackson's photography subfolder of "mark asleep" balloons in size, eclipsing other "cute mark" subfolders like "mark finger hearts" and "mark doing that thing with his face." Jaebum doesn't encourage Jackson, but doesn't discourage him either. The same with Mark. Jaebum knows Mark spending regular hours in a cold, dry cellar probably isn't conducive to his health, but he never tells Mark to leave. Jaebum likes when Mark's there. Whenever Jaebum looks over, Mark lights up and they share a smile.
Jaebum doesn't really know what he did, but somehow, without words, or even any explicit mention of anything, he and Mark have reached an understanding. Jaebum's not even sure about what. He's only sure that he's grateful. The cautious awkwardness that was hovering around Mark the past few months hasn't made a reappearance in ages. If they can keep up this good feeling for the tour, then chances of them doing well are great-better than great. It's left Jaebum's feeling more affectionate for the drums than he has in years. Sitting down at Mark's drumset is becoming as ritual as yelling at Jinyoung to pick his dirty socks off the ground, or sending Youngjae obnoxious love texts just to see him pretend to vomit, or using a lint roller to remove all the cat hair Nora shed over Jaebum's clothes. Even though he's practising hard enough that he has to wrap his palms with bandages to reduce the impact of the drumsticks, he looks forward to heading over to Mark and Jackson's house every day. When he stays over too late, he camps out on the white faux-leather couch that Jackson bought off his friend Joon, a relic of 90's decor trends. Once Jaebum woke up to see a cup of hot tea on the coffee table in front of him, and the sounds of Mark in the kitchen, making breakfast with one hand, and had thought, madly, that he would be willing to do this forever.
In retrospect, it's amazing how easily Jaebum had let his guard down.
"You're still wearing that ring, huh," Jackson says, voice hoarse because he's trying to be quiet. He's talking to Mark. It's early morning, the sky barely lit yet. Jackson is up to catch a fencing tournament where his dad is coaching, broadcast from somewhere in the US; he was bragging about it last night. Mark's making them hot chocolate, and the smell of the mix wafts faintly through to the living room, catching the attention of Jaebum's nose. Jaebum's on the couch, face turned towards the backrest. They think he's asleep.
"Yeah," Mark says. "Why, you want it back?"
"Keep it if you like it," Jackson whispers, flippant. "Just keep it for the right reasons, you know? Don't be pinning some teenage crush promise on it, you'll get hurt."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on, man. I'm not exactly sure what he was thinking when he put that on your finger, but I don't think it's what you're hoping for."
No reply from Mark.
"Like, how long are you going to keep this up? You've got to tell him sometime."
"Why?" Mark says, surprising Jaebum with the fierceness of his voice. "I don't have to. We're good right now."
"Dude, the tour's starting in, like, a week! You going to fake that nothing's up through that too? It's not going to get any easier. We'll be seeing each other every day for over two months."
"I-" Mark says. Then he stops, and says something in English, words a rush. Jaebum doesn't catch anything, other than "over" and "be fine."
Jackson sighs. "I mean, I guess, maybe," he says, clearly still doubtful. "If it were me, I would have told him ages ago. I don't know how you're managing to keep it all in. I know you're scared of his reaction, but-are you worried if the band will be okay?"
No response.
"Well, it'll be okay," Jackson says. "And Jaebum hyung won't get mad over this. I know he won't." He adds something in English too; it sounds like a question.
"Why would he have written it in the Thanks To if he didn't mean it?" Mark asks. Timidly, like he's scared of the answer.
Jaebum stomach flips, sinks.
The two others exchange a few more hushed sentences in English, until Jackson says, "Shit, we should go catch the stream now in case it doesn't work and we need to find another one. Grab the marshmallows. Yeah, that too. And ice for your ankle-okay, let's go." Their footsteps come closer, the thump-thump of Mark's one crutch not quite soundless, then fade away down the hall. As soon as Jaebum hears their bedroom door close, he throws off his blanket and heads to the CD tower standing by Mark and Jackson's compact, top-of-the-line stereo, gifted by Mark's father. The CD slotted at the top of the rack is GOTSTAR's Starmap; Jaebum opens it and takes out the insert booklet, flipping to the middle where he knows his own page is located.
His own face grins up at him-it must be his imagination that it seems mocking-as Jaebum skims the Thanks To message he'd written late last year. Their fans, his family, schoolmates, their production and direction staff, his old busking friends, then the other members of GOTSTAR: Jinyoungie, we've been together from the very beginning. Let's go together to the very end! Jackson, who always works hard and makes us laugh, and whom I cherish a lot. Youngjae, the vitamin to my life, Jaebum hyung will always be your biggest fan! Mark, my best friend, our team's heartbeat! Let's stay friends until we become grandpas ^^ And our maknaes, BamBam and Yugyeomie, your day will come soon! We're waiting for you! GOTSTAR JJAI!
Jaebum thumbs the words again, my best friend, our team's heartbeat! Let's stay friends until we become grandpas, and remembers the tense, brief conversation that Mark had with his dad a few weeks ago, thinks of all the times Mark had shared a heavy look with Jackson-whenever Jaebum mentioned something long-term related to the band, or something risking the success of the band, almost as if they knew something that could disrupt whatever plans Jaebum had-
And now, with Mark out on injury, Jaebum has learned how to play all of Mark's percussion parts. If Mark left the band, their performances wouldn't be affected at all.
Mark had something to tell Jaebum and was afraid of Jaebum's reaction, but Jaebum gave Mark a ring. He'd done it spur of the moment, but he'd wanted it to be a token of how he and Mark were going to stay together, regardless of the band's success. Maybe Mark had thought he'd meant it in a through-thick-and-thin sort of way-so that if he had to give Jaebum some bad news, then it would be okay. Jaebum would forgive him.
Would Jaebum forgive him for this?
When the fencing match ends and Mark and Jackson come back to wake Jaebum, Jaebum's already up. He'd laid back down on the couch, but hadn't manage to sleep at all. The only thing that had run through his head were various curse words, and the sensation of the earth being sucked away from underneath him, leaving him desperately trying to keep his balance.
"Hey, hyung, Mark has a checkup appointment this afternoon," Jackson says. "I was going to go with him, but Sungjae just called me and said that Hakyeon hyung and Hyuk are free for the first time in like, a month, so we're going to work on Big Byung stuff. Sorry to ask you out of the blue like this, but can you go with Mark hyung to the hospital?"
Hadn't Jaebum told himself that he wasn't going to be the sort of leader who'd pry out secrets from his fellow members? If Mark's not ready to share, then Jaebum should wait. Jaebum shouldn't have eavesdropped on his and Jackson's conversation in the first place.
But it barely takes a second for Jaebum to answer, "Sure."
-
Practise doesn't go well that day. Jaebum can't concentrate, keeps screwing up. The more he tells himself to relax, not to think about Mark, the more impossible it seems. He feels himself sliding back into old habits: venting his frustration through his drumming. His tempo starts getting harsher, too intense for the style of GOTSTAR's songs, nothing like the calm, easy cadence characteristic of Mark. They have to stop the song intermittently because the others can't match his fervor, and each time, Jaebum finds himself panting, his hands aching.
Jinyoung eventually gets concerned enough to pull him aside. "What's going on?" he asks, gently prying the drumsticks from Jaebum's hands.
"Nothing. Headache."
Jinyoung squints at him. "Really."
Jaebum twitches.
"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Jinyoung sighs. "You're too stressed out, it's affecting your play."
"I'm not stressed."
"No?" Jinyoung takes Jaebum's right hand and places it in the centre of Jaebum's forehead, where Jaebum's eyebrows are furrowed and his skin tense, almost like bark.
There's a sad set to Jinyoung's own eyebrows when he says, "But it's okay to be stressed, you know? I worry because in the past you haven't always handled your stress well, but ever since GOTSTAR, you're much better at it. Really. I'm always impressed and grateful for hyung's improvement. Just don't let your bad mood take over you and jeopardize all the work you've put into our tour, okay?"
"Yeah." Jaebum breathes out. "Thanks."
"Can I ask if something bad happened?"
It takes effort to not look sideways at Mark, perched at his usual spot on the stairs. But what can Jaebum really say to Jinyoung? You know how weird Mark's being lately? Two weeks ago Mark had this conversation with his dad and this morning Mark and Jackson had a conversation that I overheard and I think Mark wants to go home to the US and that makes me unhappy for many reasons, obviously. Obviously. The band will be affected negatively. Everyone will be sad. You'll be inconsolable. And I'll be-hollowed out? Devastated? Split apart?
These aren't even emotions Jaebum can put into words. They swirl in muddy cyclones inside him, feeding his belligerence and raising his panic, and the only coherent sentence Jaebum can discern from the mess is Mark can't leave. Mark can't leave. Jaebum is leader, he can order Mark not to go, right? He can make Mark stay.
He can't. He knows he can't for the same reason that he knows that he can never voice this other subset of emotions inside him, deeper than his responsibility to the team, buried under the turmoil of who he is as a person and who he wants to be, Jaebum's own little uncomfortable secret that's invisibly tied to Mark's wellbeing and Mark's support and Mark, just Mark: because Mark's not his.
"You know," Jinyoung starts, and Jaebum just knows that he's going to come out with one of his eerily perceptive observations, "you quit the drums around the same time that we agreed to form GOTSTAR."
"So? We talked about it; you know exactly why."
"Yes I do. You said you couldn't be a good band member if you kept on isolating yourself with your anger. You wanted to devote yourself to drumming only and pursue music that way, but you played best when you were angry, and that wasn't healthy."
Jaebum doesn't need to relive this. Abandoning his drumming hadn't been an easy choice. He'd had big dreams of doing it professionally, but his technique was too improvisational, too reckless for most jobs. Why hire self-taught drummers like Jaebum when there were academy trained students like Mark? Jaebum had to self-produce or he'd be stuck playing anonymously in subway stations forever. So Jinyoung had suggested a band. But teamwork is a trial for someone with a temper as volatile as Jaebum's had been back then, so he'd had to make a choice: become a better person, or stay the way he was, glued in place by potential and pride.
"Hey. Do you think I've changed?" Jaebum asks. He's not sure what he wants Jinyoung to tell him. Some kind of reassurance that Jaebum's made the right decision.
"A lot," Jinyoung says, smiling. "I think getting to know Mark hyung has had a really good effect. All of his patience has rubbed off on you!"
There's some comfort to be taken from that, but some pain, too.
-
The session is short that day because Youngjae has his English lesson and Jinyoung's sisters are in town. Jackson heads off to his side project, Big Byung, leaving this scene: Mark in the passenger seat of Jaebum's car, cast in his lap, crutches in the back, giving Jaebum a cautious smile as Jaebum starts the car. They don't talk on the drive to the hospital. Mark doesn't know how to begin conversations-can't even really manage to keep them up-and Jaebum's too occupied trying to figure out a way to get Mark to confess without making it seem like Jaebum's pressuring him. Jaebum's anger has been stewing for so long that it's leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Now he's mad at Mark. If Mark wants to leave the band, go back home to the States, then he should have mentioned it months ago, as soon as he started considering it seriously. They're already in a tough situation with him not participating in the tour, but their fans would be forgiving as long as GOTSTAR shows that Mark is still in the band. Remove that constancy and suddenly the image of the band itself is compromised. What would GOTSTAR be like without Mark, anyway? Jaebum can take over his parts but Mark has the most fans, Mark's the first face that most people recognize, even casual fans enjoy Mark's drum solos in the middle of their songs when he performs finger tricks with his drumsticks. How could Mark even think that Jaebum could replace him? Jaebum can't replace Mark as Jinyoung's kissing conspirator, or Jackson's other half, or the one member Youngjae could count on for quiet, or the person who helped BamBam when BamBam first transferred to Seoul, or Yugyeom's most favourite hyung. How could Mark be willing to leave them all behind like that?
Jaebum can feel the blood rushing hot in his ears. Mark's the member who provided an unexpected but appreciated counterbalance to Jaebum: the both of them with their drumming background, the eldest in the band, the ones who had the most hesitation to commit, because they didn't know if being in an indie pop-rock band was the career path that they were meant to follow. Jaebum had too many dreams, Mark had too little, but they'd met in the middle, had agreed to put their hopes into GOTSTAR and see where it took them. Mark had been the one who'd finally convinced Jaebum that Jaebum should do it.
"You have the most talent. You should show everyone that. And Jinyoung can't do this without you."
Jaebum remembers how that one line had resonated with him, like someone crashed a cymbal over his entire body, leaving his insides quivering and awake.
"Then what about you?" he'd asked.
Mark had smiled a little. "If you believe we'll do well, then I should too, right? I'll follow you." It'd sounded so easy for him to say that.
The thought that Mark might have injured himself on purpose so Jaebum could fill his role in the band makes Jaebum want to punch something until his knuckles bleed.
Does Mark leaving mean he doesn't believe in Jaebum anymore?
"Did you not sleep well?" Mark says, pulling Jaebum's attention away from his white-boned grip on the steering wheel.
"What?"
"You seem like you're in a bad mood."
"I'm fine," says Jaebum.
Mark looks at him, obviously not buying it, but he turns back to the front window. Jaebum feels betrayal prickle through him, weighing down his breathing. It takes another sideways glance for Jaebum to realize that Mark's absently fiddling with his ring.
Jaebum's not sure if it's a good thing or not.
-
"Does this hurt?"
"Just a bit."
"This?"
"Um-yeah."
"Any itching?"
"Yeah, a lot."
"Are you scratching much?"
"...my roommate sprays water in my face when I try to scratch."
"I see. Well, if it gets the job done." The doctor turns to Jaebum, waiting near the clinic room door. "Good thinking, son."
"I'm not his roommate," says Jaebum. "I'm just a friend."
Sitting on the examination table, Mark shifts, uncomfortable. Jaebum pretends not to see.
"All right, Mark-sshi, you're healing very well," the doctor says, flipping the folder of Mark's x-rays. "Seems like you're still feeling a lot of pain with your wrist, though. How many painkillers are you taking per day?"
Mark thinks about it, head tilting as he blows air into one cheek. "I think..."
"He takes two or three, usually," Jaebum answers for him. He's not in the mood to deal with the gargantuan pauses Mark has to preface every response he gives.
The doctor looks at Jaebum again, with renewed interest. "Does he perform any strenuous tasks with his wrist?"
"He's right-handed, so he does have to use his hand throughout the day, but we've been keeping an eye on him and he's not overexerting himself. From what I know, he takes the medication in the morning when he wakes up and at night before he falls asleep, because that's when he does his stretches. No push-ups though."
"Good, good, that sounds fine then. Mark-sshi, do you need a refill for your painkillers?"
Mark's eyes slide to Jaebum, questioning.
"Yes he does," says Jaebum. "We'll be touring soon so we won't have time to stop by the hospital in the next month at least." The doctor turns to Mark. Mark nods slightly.
"Okay, I'll write you another prescription."
The doctor scribbles something on his pad and rips off the paper for Mark and tells them to make another appointment within three to five weeks. Jaebum helps Mark with that too, and afterwards, getting back into Jaebum's car, Mark says abruptly, "That was the smoothest it's ever been. Thanks."
Jaebum starts the engine. "You're welcome."
Mark pushes his mouth to the side. "Are you mad at me for something?"
"No," Jaebum lies. "Are you hungry? Let's get food."
"Okay," says Mark.
"Meat, right?" Jaebum asks. Mark always wants to eat meat.
"Umm," Mark hums. "How about seafood."
Jaebum's eyebrows rise. He and Mark are always arguing about getting seafood or meat-this is a rare concession. If it were any other day, Jaebum would have been touched. But he knows why Mark's playing nice, and it pisses him off. If Mark is going to leave, he should be upfront about it like a man. If he thinks being kind to Jaebum will make his news easier to swallow, fuck him. Jaebum doesn't need his pity.
They go to a meat place. Jaebum orders the dishes that he knows Mark likes best, and Mark looks all the more troubled for it. But Jaebum doesn't explain himself, and Mark doesn't ask. The food arrives and their conversation has yet to move beyond, "This bottle of hot sauce is almost empty," and "I'll ask for another when the waitress comes back."
Mark's willingness to let the silence fester just further blackens Jaebum's mood. He cuts up their meat with a viciousness that would make children cower. Mark takes his serving with a meek nod of thanks, and Jaebum wants to throw the sizzling pork in his face. The only thing keeping Jaebum from losing his temper audibly is the fact that it's Mark, and something about Mark discourages people from yelling at him. Maybe it's Mark's passiveness: yell at him and you get nothing back-Mark is a blank wall, Mark is unbreakable.
Mark was the one who couldn't stop crying when GOTSTAR had their first Japanese showcase in Nagoya, and had apologized to Jaebum backstage afterwards, like he'd been embarrassed, as if Jaebum hadn't been crying too. It'd just been them crying, actually. And Jaebum remembers thinking how ironic that was, that the two of them would cry when it was them who were most unsure of their belonging in the band-but maybe that in itself was the reason. The cheers of the crowd, singing along to their songs and chanting their names, was validation for them putting so much of themselves into GOTSTAR despite reservations, fear, self-doubt, redeeming all those painfully endless nights when Mark and Jaebum would look at each other tiredly from across the basement floor, wondering what the hell they were doing. But those were all shallow frustrations; their confidence ran deeper. GOTSTAR would be successful because they put in the work. And that's what happened.
Jaebum lowers the cooking tongs, looking at Mark with new puzzlement. Mark's the same as Jaebum. He would never leave GOTSTAR unless he had no other choice.
Mark's trying to use his chopsticks with his left hand. He keeps on dropping his slices of meat. His fingers are trembling a little as he fumbles when them, and the ring on his fourth finger keeps on catching the overhead light. As Jaebum watches, Mark sighs and puts down his chopsticks, and the lagging remainder of Jaebum's anger fizzles out entirely.
"I overheard you and Jackson talking this morning," Jaebum says.
"Oh," says Mark, unsurprised. His posture deflates. "Did you get it? What, um, we were talking about."
"Not all of it. So you're going to tell me right now."
Mark bites his lip. He drums one metal chopstick on the edge of his plate nervously. Just when Jaebum's about to prod him again, he blurts, "Is it true you don't like the drums anymore?"
Jaebum blinks. "I-it's not like that."
"You didn't give up the drums so I could be in the band, did you?"
"No, what the hell. I gave up the drums because I played my best when I was angry or frustrated or fed up with myself, and I was trying to learn how to control my temper and not have to rely on my drums as a crutch."
"Oh."
Jaebum clucks his tongue. "Why does that even matter?"
"Because," Mark shrugs. "If you still liked playing drums-like, if you got fed up with me or something, I could leave the band, but you guys would be okay."
Coldness sweeps through Jaebum. This is it. But this can't be it it. "Why would you leave the band?"
Mark shrugs again, lowering his gaze.
"Mark. Why would you leave the band?"
"Not-not that I would want to," says Mark. "Just, if I did something to upset you, or we got into a fight, you definitely can't leave because you're the leader, so it'd be-"
"I'm not a leader if one of my members is missing!" Jaebum snaps.
Mark stares at him.
"If you want to leave," Jaebum continues, voice hard to disguise the fact that otherwise, it'd be shaking, "that's up to you. But don't tell me that I'd ever do something that would make you leave, and then call me a leader."
"But you are leader," says Mark. "You're a good leader because you always put the band first. And I'm like-" he cuts off.
"You're what."
"I don't want to be selfish," murmurs Mark. It sounds like a phrase he's rehearsed before. He's looking at his ring.
And suddenly it hits Jaebum that he's been judging all of this from the wrong angle. Something inside him clicks into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle. He and Mark are the same about so much, so of course they'd be the same about this too: this wordless, gauzy feeling deep in his chest that Jaebum has never put a name to, much less examined beyond the instinctive need to keep Mark with him. The reason that Jaebum's insides twang high when Mark smiles at him, and strum low when Mark seems out of reach. The resonance that settles so well in his bones whenever he looks back and sees Mark, right where Jaebum needs him.
Of course Mark doesn't want to leave. Jaebum can understand with excruciating clarity why Mark was afraid, has been afraid since he first saw Jaebum's write-up in the album Thanks To and read, Mark, my best friend, and why he's put so much stock in the idea of a ring.
"What if I want you to be selfish," Jaebum says hoarsely.
Mark's head shoots up.
It's hard not to look away from his face-so delicate and suddenly so hopeful. Because Jaebum realizes, too, how this can be a bad idea. But if Mark's admitting it, then Jaebum will reveal his hand too. They got into this together; this only seems fair. They built GOTSTAR's success from nothing. They'll be able to succeed at this too.
"You-" says Mark. "Wait, what?"
"I'm saying, I get it. Jinyoungie thinks I've changed a lot. For the better. Because I wanted to be better for GOTSTAR. But that coincides to the same time as I met you. So... maybe I wanted to be better for you, too."
"Oh," says Mark. "Oh." Then he asks, "Have you changed?"
That startles Jaebum into laughing. "You don't think I have?"
"I think-I think you've been Jaebum your entire life, and I liked you before, and I like you now, so-" he trails off.
"Right." An undeterrable grin spreads across Jaebum's face. "Me too."
"Oh," says Mark for the third time, looking stunned.
"How long have you been sitting on this?" Jaebum asks.
"Um," Mark shifts in his chair. "I don't know. Jackson figured out without me telling him, but then made me admit it after he caught me frowning at our CD one day. Like... you called me your best friend. And if we could only ever be best friends-"
"That was-I mean, you are my best friend," Jaebum says feebly.
"Yeah, I know. And I was okay with that, but... anyway. I guess things got worse after that. My dad was worried too."
"But-fuck, Mark. What if I hadn't heard you guys talking this morning? Would you have kept it from me forever?"
Mark rubs his lips, looking lost. "I don't know. Would you have?"
Jaebum's chest tightens. He's not sure of that either. He never took it seriously, his low-level desire for Mark, just let it hover under his consciousness, like he might grow out of it if he just left it alone. It was only the possibility of losing Mark that made Jaebum realize how deep that desire ran. Miles and miles of uncharted territory, tunneled within him throughout their years together, waiting to be graced by light. By Mark.
"I guess we're both pathetic," says Jaebum. He reaches out to rub Mark's bicep, and Mark's eyes go unfocused for a second.
Mark murmurs, "When I-when I first came to Korea, I wasn't really looking for anything. I started following you because I thought you were worth following. And then I realized I liked following you. Leader or not. So if I-just-" He grabs Jaebum's wrist and dips his head. Jaebum feels the quick butterfly press of lips against the back of his hand, the gentle rub of Mark's thumb on the drumming callouses on Jaebum's palm. It's as much of an apology as it is a declaration. Jaebum doesn't want the apology, but the declaration he'll keep.
Mark asks, "Um. Was that okay?"
Jaebum lets out a very long, very old breath that he had no idea he was holding. His mind is very calm, but his chest is vibrating, sonorous, his heart booming.
"Yeah," he says.
-
Sitting in the car, back at Mark's house, parked on the curb, Mark's lips are dry and his touch light when they meet Jaebum's. Mark holds still, not even breathing, so Jaebum is the one to lean in further, over the gear shift, sliding a rough hand around Mark's good shoulder. The hard shell of Mark's wrist cast pushes against Jaebum's chest and Jaebum slides his own hand down the plaster to link his fingers with the very tips of Mark's.
In the quiet, he can hear the interlocking rhythm of their breathing, and his own heartbeat, thudding strong through his body. Maybe Mark's is beating in time.
-
"3, 2, 1, come and get it! Hello, we're GOTSTAR!"
The crowd cheers at deafening volume.
Jaebum steps up to the mic. The audience is a mass of shadowy faces, illuminated in various colours from the spotlights on the ceiling. "Uh, hi everyone, I'm the leader, JB," he says. More cheering. "First of all, thank you all for being here. This is GOTSTAR's first concert on our first tour and we're very excited."
"DAMN RIGHT WE ARE!" Jackson screams from beside him.
"You've all heard the news from our fancafe, right? Our drummer, Mark-sshi, broke his wrist and sprained his ankle last month-" Jaebum pauses for the sympathetic moans, "and won't be able to play on this tour. Mark, you want to come out for a moment?"
Mark pokes his head out from the backstage curtain. He twiddles the fingers of his good hand and the amount of noise made by the audience is enough to send the venue floor shaking.
"Mark will of course be joining the band as soon as he heals, but in the meantime I'll be taking over his part-" Jaebum indicates to the drumset behind him, pushed up much further than its regular position. It's in the direct centre of the stage. "And I'll work hard, please look after me."
"LEADER!!" Jackson yells. "YEAHHH!"
From the front row, BamBam's voice shouts, "JAEBUM HYUNG IS THE BEST!" and pretty soon the entire crowd is chanting it too.
"J! B! J! B! J! B!"
Jinyoung holds a finger up to his lips. "Everyone, it's time to get the show started!" But that just makes the screaming intensify. Jaebum shares a look with Jinyoung and they laugh.
A trail of shocked gasps and shrieking make its way through the front of the audience as Mark pushes his way through to take his spot in between BamBam and Yugyeom. Yugyeom slings an arm around Mark's shoulders and Mark leans his arms on the metal barrier, beaming up at the stage. The ring on his left hand flashes silver, like a shooting star, there and gone. It's not the one from Jackson's jewelry box, but a new one that Jaebum had bought last week. Nothing too fancy, just a simple, thin band, but it suits Mark well, and has a twin, sitting snugly around Jaebum's own finger. A bit cheesy, sure, but when Jaebum drums, he can feel the ring knocking against his drumsticks in unison, a constant reminder that even without Mark on stage, he's still there.
"GOTSTAR!!" the crowd bellows.
"Let's go?" Youngjae says in English, fingers on his keyboard.
"Let's go." Jaebum takes his seat at Mark's drumset. The lights dim; the cheering mellows out too in anticipation. In the back of his head, Jaebum can hear Mark's voice ask, "Comfortable?" and Jaebum thinks that yeah, he is. He feels good. This will be a good show, this will be a good tour. And he knows their next one will be even better.
"Ready when you are, leader," Jinyoung calls, and Jaebum raises his sticks into the air, counting them in.
end
one | part two
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