azzurrite (4/4)
On Jinyoung's birthday, Mark tells Jaebum about his plan to organize something special for Jinyoung, to make his day as memorable as he had made Mark's. After Mark had sorted out the misunderstanding about his relationship with Jinyoung and made it clear to Jaebum that they were strictly platonic friends, Jaebum's dislike and hostility towards Jinyoung had seemed to thankfully abate a little. After all, they had been acquaintances even before Mark had met Jaebum, and like everyone else in their field, Jaebum respects and admires Jinyoung's work ethic. Jinyoung is Mark's best friend and it means so much to Mark whether his boyfriend and best friend get along.
As Yugyeom and Bambam have already planned a date by themselves that night, Mark attends the surprise party they throw at Jinyoung's house that morning. Jinyoung obviously knows about it beforehand, but is impressively convincing in his attempt to act surprised.
Mark wants to take Jinyoung to a fancy restaurant, hipster bar or one of those avant garde cafes that Jinyoung likes. But since he's pretty clueless about the eateries in Seoul, he enlists Jaebum for help. Jaebum obligingly suggests a cozy upscale music bar with a live band that has a waiting list for reservations six months long, but he manages to get them a table because of some connections and pulled strings.
Mark keeps Jinyoung in suspense, not telling him where they are heading until they arrive in Jaebum's SUV, and this time Jinyoung is genuinely intrigued.
"Oh my god!" he shrieks when they pull up outside the bar. "How did you get a reservation here? I heard the waiting list is crazy!"
Mark smiles, shooting a proud glance at Jaebum, who only presses his lips together in amusement.
"This is the most awesome birthday ever," Jinyoung keeps repeating as they stroll into the bar and Jaebum gives the reservation under his name. His obvious and adorable excitement makes all the effort Mark has put into organizing this worth it.
They place their orders with the waitress for appetizers and drinks. Jinyoung orders a mimosa, Mark a cranberry vodka and Jaebum vodka on the rocks. The bar is filled to full capacity, the ambient lighting giving the wall murals and graffitied tables a warm, inviting glow. After awhile, the low hum of conversation mutes politely to welcome the live band, which has taken its place on the makeshift stage at the front of the room.
As the band segues into the opening chords of its first track, a slower-paced one to warm up the crowd first, Mark watches Jinyoung across the table anxiously. He knows that Jinyoung is a music lover and part-time expert and hopes that the grungy band will not disappoint him.
Jinyoung faces the stage, eyes immersed as he sips his drink and listens appreciatively to the music. When his eyes flutter closed during a particularly emotional rock ballad, Mark feels a rush of truimph and knows that he has successfully made Jinyoung's night a good one. He beams gratefully at Jaebum, who squeezes his knee under the table looking equally pleased.
Then unexpectedly, in the space between songs, the lead singer leans forward to speak into the mic, smiling warmly as he searches the crowd and his eyes pause at their table. "Today is the birthday of a very special person," he says in his soulful, dulcet voice. "Let's all wish Jinyoung-sshi a very happy birthday, okay?"
He crinkles his eyes in his trademark eye smile, and the crowd goes crazy, clapping and cheering. Jinyoung has his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he blushes vigorously, looking both embarrassed and overjoyed. In answer to Jinyoung's incredulous look, Mark shrugs exaggeratedly, widening his eyes back to show that he knew nothing of this. Jaebum is toying with Mark's fingers on the table, looking smug.
The band launches into an impromptu, bawdy and hilariously fun version of Happy Birthday, and Jinyoung looks close to tears. The night is turning out even more perfect than Mark had hoped for, and he's so thankful to Jaebum because if anyone deserves a flawless birthday, it's Jinyoung.
After about an hour, the band finishes their set to uproarious applause and cries of "Encore!" The dyed, tattooed, black-clad and heavily-pierced members wave imperiously to their groupies as they descend the stage and the bar lapses into the relaxed chatter of private conversations once again. Jinyoung still looks pretty shell-shocked, like he can't quite believe what just happened.
When they resume their conversation, Jinyoung leans towards Mark and hisses. "Did you see that mega gorgeous hottie up there? Holy crap."
"The singer?" Mark is confused.
"No, the bassist," Jinyoung says impatiently. "The one with blonde hair."
"Ahh, him." Mark vaguely recalls him hanging in the background most of the time but coming forward to do a screechy solo during one of the upbeat tracks. "He's okay," he mumbles vaguely. "Cute, but he seemed like the cocky type, don't you think? And he didn't look very tall."
Jaebum covers his mouth with a hand, but Mark can see from his eyes that he's smirking and almost immediately, intuits why. He marvels with wonder when he had become so attuned to what Jaebum's every expression meant, so in sync that they could pass a volume of conversation with one glance?
Mark realizes with Jaebum's amusement that in a matter of a few months, checking out other guys appraisingly has become the norm for him. Mark groans. He dreads turning into the stereotypical gay man. But both him and Jaebum had slipped into this lifestyle surprisingly easily, with surprisingly little angst. Maybe it was because they were together as they undertook all their first times, innocent yet eager, fumbling yet sweet. Still, Mark doesn't think he could be gay for any guy other than Jaebum. It's a cheesy and cliche statement that sounds right out of the plot of a yaoi manga (which Jaebum had laughed off as unrealistic, but Mark had gotten strangely hooked to when they had bought it for fun to investigate sexual positions), but it's true. No matter how many other cute guys he has met since, Mark has only ever felt this intense attraction towards Jaebum. He has merely developed a clinical appreciation for good-looking guys, as with hot chicks that he gratuitously checks out when he bypasses them on the street.
Now, Jinyoung bristles, his feathers seeming ruffled by Mark's lukewarm assesment. "Who cares whether he's short? Not everyone goes for tall guys, okay?" he huffs, shooting an obvious implying glance at Jaebum, who looks unperturbed by Jinyoung's dig. "Besides," Jinyoung lowers his voice playfully as he leers, "Did you get a load of that fantastic ass? Totally my type."
Mark coughs, choking a little on his drink as he realizes Jinyoung is serious. "I didn't know you were gay?" he gasps shrilly.
Jinyoung shrugs nonchalantly, as if unconcerned about questioning his sexuality. "I didn't know either until I saw him," he replies breezily.
Jinyoung continues sneaking veiled peeks from beneath his eyelashes as they chow down on the rest of their dinner towards the table beside the stage where the band has been served food and drinks, on the house and are talking and joking in their own world. The bassist is perched on the table with his legs balanced on the chair, crossed coquettishly at the knees. His flaxen hair is matted to a dirty blonde, bangs pasted to his forehead with sweat as he flips them out of his eyes impatiently. This is the first time Mark has seen Jinyoung so obviously infatuated with anyone at first sight.
After they have finished the meal and Jaebum has instructed the waitress in low tones to bring out the birthday cake, Mark slides his present across the table, a little peach-shaped paperweight that he had sculpted himself at the pottery farm and painted a peony pink. Jinyoung nearly screams in excitement when he unwraps it. "Omigod, this is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life! Thanks, Mark-hyung!" In his delight, Jinyoung carelessly leans across the table to give Mark a dry kiss on his cheek. Mark sees Jaebum's mouth go slack and his eyes narrow in annoyance, but he doesn't say anything to Mark's relief.
To distract Jaebum, Mark quickly squeezes his thigh. "Where's your present?" he smiles expectantly. Mark isn't really sure if Jaebum has prepared a gift, although he hopes so, and is surprised when Jaebum cups a hand over his mouth and hollers in the direction of the band's table: "Youngjae-yah!"
The singer's head snaps up from where he is huddled with his group members, wolfing down crab cakes, and a smile takes over his eyes and face as he bounds over eagerly. "Hyung! I was going to come over after I finished eating. Did you like the set?"
His open, hopeful face shines with a flushed glow as Jaebum nods with pride, smiling. He claps Youngjae's back and looks back to Mark and Jinyoung. "This is Mark, my boyfriend, and his friend, Jinyoung."
"Mark-hyung, Jinyoung-hyung!" Youngjae warmly greets, pumping their hands vigorously. "Happy birthday!" To his credit, he doesn't bat an eyelash at the word boyfriend, but Mark imagines that Youngjae's smile seems to dim a couple of notches, with something like disappointment.
"Thanks for the birthday song," Jinyoung blushes gratefully, and Youngjae shakes his head earnestly. "You're welcome! I hope you enjoyed it."
"This is Youngjae..." Jaebum introduces proudly. "My cousin."
At the word, Mark feels his body sag with relief. He had been worried Youngjae was a cute dongsaeng with a crush on Jaebum, a rival to Mark. Honestly, if he were, Mark had no confidence in winning.
Jaebum leans in to whisper something in Youngjae's ear, and Youngjae listens carefully, a smile creeping onto his face as Mark and Jinyoung strain but fail to hear Jaebum's low murmur. Youngjae gives them another bright smile and turns to saunter back to the band's table. Mark is still wondering what Jaebum had told him when Youngjae is back again behind him, but this time bringing along the bassist.
Jinyoung's fork drops as the blonde, muscular boy flips his hair again and peers out from beneath his choppy bangs at them, eyes honing in on Jinyoung. They are lively and devilish, filled with mischief. "Birthday boy?" he says conversationally, settling down unselfconsciouly onto an empty chair and leaning forward intently. "How old are you turning?"
Mark gapes at him, expecting Jinyoung to instantly take offense at such a blunt question, blushing, but can't believe his ears to hear Jinyoung say meekly, "Twenty-nine."
"Oh, really?" The bassist raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. "Me too," he confides, leaning forward, and Jinyoung actually giggles breathlessly.
Youngjae takes the chance of the lull in the conversation to pull up a chair and lean forward too, making the introductions. "This is Jackson-hyung. He's Chinese."
Mark's interest is piqued at that, staring unabashedly at Jackson. He hadn't expected to meet a fellow Chinese here, which he seldom did in Seoul.
"Do you speak it?" he blurts out in Mandarin unconsciously. Jackson looks up at him, eyes lighting up with excitement too as he realizes that Mark is a fellow countryman.
"Mandarin?" Jackson replies in smooth Chinese. "Yes."
Jinyoung looks a little bereft at the loss of Jackson's attention, a little disgruntled. Mark hurriedly tries to steer Jackson's attention back to him but he seems to have aroused Jackson's curiosity, and he continues peppering Mark with rapidfire questions about his hometown and length of his stay in Korea.
Then Mark hears a screech of chair legs against the floor beside him, and turns in confusion to see Jaebum standing up with a clatter, unsmiling.
He grabs Mark's arm brusquely. "Let's go to the restroom."
Mark blinks up at him, finding Jaebum's sudden clinginess a little odd. But he obediently gets to his feet too, making Jackson's outpouring of questions finally halt reluctantly and Jaebum tugs him bodily away from the table. Youngjae gets up, huffing after them. "Wait for me, Jaebum-hyung!"
Jaebum laughs and takes his other hand, dragging both of them in the direction of the bathroom. Near his bandmates' table, Youngjae bails on them, making a beeline for the food. Jaebum doesn't stop his strident pace as they continue approaching the toilets.
The male restroom is empty and Jaebum tugs Mark unceremoniously into a cubicle, backing Mark against the door. Mark's back hits it with a thud, panting a little with exertion from the pace at which Jaebum had hurried here. He stares with dazed eyes up at Jaebum, confused. He's not so thick as to not understand that Jaebum wanted to leave Jinyoung and Jackson alone, but why do they have to be cramped in one cubicle when there is plenty of space in the toilet? Besides, Jaebum had said he need to use it and Mark moves to leave the cubicle and give Jaebum privacy.
But the moment his hand falls on the doorknob, Jaebum's hand descends on it, light but firm. "Stay," he says huskily, gazing deeply into Mark's eyes, and Mark blushes from the roots of his hair.
Jaebum caresses his face thoughtfully with the pad of his thumb. "Did you call that bassist cute just now?" he asks silkily.
Mark gulps. "... You were listening?"
Jaebum doesn't answer his question, instead going on, "I don't like it when you speak Chinese with others in front of me."
"Why?" Mark frowns. Jaebum had told him before that he found it unbelievably sexy when Mark spoke Mandarin.
"Because I don't understand it," Jaebum says simply.
"O-oh," Mark stammers. "Okay, I won't do it again," he says appeasingly, pouting at Jaebum. "Forgive me, Jaebummie?"
Jaebum swears under his breath and covers his mouth, but his disappearing eyes betray his smile.
Mark laughs. For someone who professes he has no patience for cute things, Jaebum is surprisingly weak for them when it comes to Mark, and surprisingly cute himself. His is the kind of unforced, accidental cuteness that he doesn't even have to try to employ.
"Stop that," Jaebum snaps, and Mark's laughter fades. "What, laughing?"
"Laughing like a stupid mouse." Jaebum makes a face at him, then leans down without warning to attack him with a kiss, all teeth and tongue, muffling Mark's retort.
"We should go back," Mark wheezes when he finally manages to break away from Jaebum's hungry mouth for a second. "They'll be wondering why we're taking so long."
"Let them," Jaebum murmurs carelessly, sweeping Mark up in another breathless kiss.
They both freeze when footsteps echo on the marble tile and someone else enters the bathroom. Mark can feel Jaebum's heart pounding in unison with his against his chest as they try not to make a sound until they hear the flush and running water and retreating footsteps. Only then does Jaebum let out a sigh and sag against Mark, finally backing off a little. Mark inhales deeply and takes in Jaebum, lips kiss swollen and eyelids hooded over smouldering, dilated eyes, face flushed intoxicatedly and hair post-coital. He looks like he's just been fucked.
Anxiously, Mark cards his fingers through Jaebum's hair, smoothing the tufts down. He can only imagine how he looks himself and turns to unlock the door, bumping Jaebum and bustling out to tidy himself in the mirror. He looks much the same as Jaebum, with guilty eyes darting shiftily from side to side. Jaebum folds his arms and leans against the wall, cocking his hip as he smirks at him in their reflections, seeming unruffled and amused by Mark's fluster.
Mark glares at him reproachfully and grabs his arm, dragging him firmly out of the bathroom. This time, Jaebum is the one who willingly gets hauled back.
Mark skids to a halt a few paces from their table. Jaebum arches an eyebrow at him, as if saying, See? He'd been right that Jinyoung and Jackson don't seem to have noticed their suspiciously long absence. Jinyoung is leaning forward, elbows on the table, looking rapt as he says something that elicits a high-pitched burst of laughter from Jackson. Jinyoung's face flushes with pride, looking smug and pleased that he had managed to impress him.
Mark is wondering whether to walk up and interrupt them when Youngjae beckons them over. "Where did you guys disappear to? Come meet the rest of my bandmates."
Jaebum promptly takes Mark's hand and leads him to their table, and Mark follows in relief. As they say hi and bump fists with the drummer and guitarist, Mark catches a glimpse of Jinyoung and Jackson huddled even closer together with their heads bent towards each other's, foreheads almost touching and bangs catching together with static. For a moment he thinks they're kissing before he realizes they're writing something on the glossy wooden surface of the table, which he had noticed before was covered with graffiti on almost every inch, the names of lovers and dates of anniversaries or just random sentences or quotes and phone numbers and doodlings. He wonders what Jinyoung and Jackson are writing.
Jaebum hip-checks him gently, and Mark snaps out of his reverie to rejoin the conversation with Youngjae.
They've been at the bar for a few blissful hours and the night is deepening. Jinyoung and Jackson have been deep in conversation, in a world of their own for more than half an hour when Jackson finally gets up, loping back to their table with a dreamy smirk on his face. Mark glances at Jinyoung who is staring at Jackson's retreating back like it's the most beautiful vista in the universe. He resists the urge to laugh and nudges Jaebum who looks over and quickly takes the situation into his hands, getting up and patting Youngjae's shoulder. Jaebum tells him he'll be in touch and they say their goodbyes as the band start gathering up their equipment too and heaving them towards the back door into their van. Jackson slings the bass over his shoulder and goes to help the drummer with his drum set, and Jinyoung leans against the table and stares grudgingly at them, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Mark quickly hurries towards him.
"What were you guys writing?" he asks to distract Jinyoung, and thankfully succeeds. Jinyoung waves Mark closer, eyes bright with excitement and shows him a few words scrawled on the corner of the table, squeezed between crowded messages and almost unnoticeable if not pointed out. They are in a looping handwriting that isn't Jinyoung's and read "Jinyoung is so cute" in Chinese. Mark almost chokes on his spit.
Jaebum looks amused. "What's wrong?" Mark sputters. "N-nothing. Do you know what they mean?"
"Yeah, Jackson told me," Jinyoung replies. "I wish I could read Chinese too."
"I can teach you," Mark offers, and Jinyoung brightens. "Really? Thanks, Mark-hyung!"
Mark nods, but seeing the way Jaebum purses his lips, adds cheekily, "But I think you'd prefer Jackson to."
Jaebum laughs, making Mark swell with pride, and Jinyoung blushes prettily, swatting his arm. "Hyung!" he whines. "Stop teasing me."
Before they leave, Jinyoung hands them the black Sharpie he had been using and Mark writes Jaebum's name and the date on another corner of the table. Jaebum writes Mark's name and draws a clumsy heart around both of them, and Mark grins and adds some fancy curlicues, resisting the urge to start drawing all over the whole table. But as Jaebum looks at him, eyes adoring in the shadowy lamplight, Mark knows that he doesn't need to carve the date into wood to remember tonight. Because it's already engraved indelibly onto his heart, an invisible but permanent tattoo.
After that day, Mark doesn't meet Jinyoung for almost a week, busy with work. But soon after, he receives a text message from Bambam: "Hyung, who is Jackson? Jinyoung-hyung has been all Jackson this, Jackson that, since his birthday."
Mark laughs out loud. He knew Jinyoung had a crush, but hadn't known how big it was. He mentally files away this information for teasing purposes in future.
He replies Bambam that Jackson is the bassist in the band they saw that night, and the next day he receives a text from Yugyeom. "Can you come and remove Jinyoung-hyung from our couch? He's been moping here all week like a lovesick puppy. Me and Bam need some alone time too, you know."
Mark snorts. So Jinyoung had been mooning about his crush to Bambam and Yugyeom. He had probably been too embarrassed to say anything to Mark, knowing Mark would never let him live it down. Mark calls Jinyoung.
"Where are you?" he asks, expecting Jinyoung to be at Bambam's house or his office, but Jinyoung replies, voice muffled by background noise, "At the bar we came for my birthday. Come over?"
Mark tells him he'll be there in fifteen and hangs up, furrowing his brow. Does Jackson's band have a gig there again today? It's still afternoon, though, and they only play at night. Mark slips on his jacket and leaves the house into a balmy late afternoon.
When he walks into the bar fifteen minutes later, he immediately locates Jinyoung dressed in casual, rumpled clothes and sitting at the same table as that night, chin propped lazily on his crossed arms on the table as his fingers trace absent patterns over the surface. There are few other customers at the bar at this hour and Mark makes his way through the tables towards Jinyoung.
The waiter comes along and Mark orders a cherry martini. Jinyoung asks for another tequila and Mark raises his eyebrows at the two empty glasses already perspiring on the table, ice cubes melting.
"What's up?" Mark starts delicately. Jinyoung looks different from his usual groomed and primped self, his hair tousled and faint circles around his eyes. His skin is red and irritated the way it is when he doesn't get a good rest.
Jinyoung doesn't reply, his fingers finding Jackson's handwriting on the table. Oddly, the ink seems a little faded from the last time, as if Jinyoung has traced his fingertips over it so many times he's worn it down.
"I can't believe he didn't even draw a heart," Jinyoung whimpers disconsolately, voice building to a low wail that makes Mark glance anxiously around them to see if anyone's looking. "He could've written something else besides Happy birthday. Anything!"
"Wait, what?" Mark returns his attention to Jinyoung, distracted. "What did you say he wrote?"
Jinyoung raises his head slightly, hopefully. "Happy birthday?" he says tentatively.
Mark squints at the message to double-check. Unless his Chinese has deteriorated vastly, there's no doubt that Jackson had written Jinyoung is so cute.
"Uhh, Jinyoung..." Mark murmurs, wondering how to break it to him.
"Yes?" Jinyoung says eagerly but confusedly, leaning forward breathlessly.
Mark laughs. "Jackson didn't write Happy birthday. He wrote Jinyoung is so cute."
"WHAT!!!" Jinyoung's head snaps up so fast, Mark almost gets whiplash. "Are you shitting me?" he growls, eyes narrowed.
Mark shakes his head solemnly. "I would never," he says gravely.
"Oh my god," Jinyoung breathes in disbelief. "How dare that little shit lie to me," he curses, but his eyes are glowing with almost manic happiness, face flushed with obvious pleasure.
Jinyoung leaps out of his chair so fast it almost topples over. "Thanks, hyung. I'm leaving first. Can you settle the bill? Laters."
Before Mark can open his mouth, Jinyoung is halfway across the room. "Hey, what about your drink?" Mark gasps after him.
"You can have it!" Jinyoung calls back generously, not even bothering to look back, as if he's picking up the tab. Mark lifts his middle finger discreetly towards Jinyoung's retreating back.
Mark finishes the drinks, feeling self-conscious and alone, then fishes out his phone to dial Jaebum, feeling a little buzzed. Jaebum picks up after a few rings, but he sounds preoccupied as he says, "Mark-yah?"
"Jaebummieee," Mark slurs, giggling. Jaebum sounds hassled but obviously pleased to hear from Mark. He must be busy at work. "Where are you?"
"In my office," Jaebum replies after a pause. "But, uh, Mark --"
"Please, Jaebum-hyung!" Mark hears a disembodied voice over the phone. A male voice. His stomach drops.
"Oh my god," he whispers, sick comprehension dawning on him. "Are you cheating on me?"
"What? No! Jesus, Mark, how could you even think -- Can you shut up a minute, Jinyoung-ah?" Jaebum's voice switches from dulcet to sharp in an instant, and Mark stifles a sigh of relief at the name. "Can't you hear whose voice it is?" Jaebum complains, and on further listening Mark can indeed recognize Jinyoung's trademark throaty tones. He feels ashamed for jumping to conclusions so hastily but relieved.
"What is Jinyoung doing there?" he demands, bewildered. "I just met him."
Jaebum exhales exasperatedly. "That's my line. You must know why he's hounding me for Jackson's number then."
"Just give it to him," Mark orders as he hears Jinyoung's voice continue pleading plaintively in the background. "I'll explain later."
"What?" Jaebum squeaks, outraged. "I don't even have it. I only have Youngjae's. Besides, he can't just waltz into my office in the middle of the day like this and interrupt my work --"
"Jaebummie," Mark cuts him off, the endearment making Jaebum fall silent.
"Just give him Youngjae's number," Mark says, and when Jaebum replies again, his voice is mollified, submissive.
"Okay."
Mark finishes the charcoal drawing of Jaebum in the fall, a few months after he had completed and submitted the advertising project. Both are equally painstakingly-drawn, but the portrait of Jaebum is startlingly intimate, lovingly rendered and infinitely more personal. While Mark was trying to capture the look in Jaebum's eyes, what had popped into his mind was Jaebum on their first night together, that night of Mark's birthday. They had been clueless and terrified, clumsy and awkward as teenage boys losing their virginity. They had fumbled into it, all apologies and Are you okays and nervous giggles and sweaty hands and too-loud pants -- but they had fumbled into it together. And that made all the difference.
Jaebum had been so sweet, so solicitous and breathtakingly tender as he asked Mark repeatedly if this hurt or that or if he was ready and if Jaebum could move now. Even then, even when Mark had said Yes, please, Jaebum had stilled with a remarkable effort, quavering within him, pushed Mark's damp bangs away with a gentle finger, and asked, Are you sure?
Jaebum had made him feel so taken care of, and then he had undone Mark, make him come unravelled in shouts of pleasure whose heights Mark had never been taken to. He had turned Mark into a writhing, moaning wreck beneath him. And Mark had seen Jaebum come completely undone too, fall to pieces in a way Mark had never seen him lose control before.
It was exhilarating. Mindblowing. Incredible. Mark had had no idea that sex could be like that, that male sex could be like that. He had thought it would be something he had to grit his teeth and endure, a necessary pain so he could have a relationship with Jaebum. He never imagined that it would become the most thrilling part of their relationship.
And after it was over, Jaebum had leaned over Mark, bracing himself up on his elbows, and asked so very tenderly, Did I hurt you? His voice was so soft that it brought the prickle of tears behind Mark's eyes and Jaebum's own tightened in worry and contrition. "Oh God, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry." He had rolled off Mark, pulling out slowly, and run his hands over every inch of Mark's body until Mark reassured him that he wasn't hurt but just too happy.
And on other times Mark had pushed Jaebum down onto the bed (of Jaebum's apartment, which he had incidentally moved into indefinitely, commuting to his studio to work in the day) and growled low in his throat, You've been a bad boy, Jaebummie, like the day he had gotten a nasty shock calling Jaebum and hearing Jinyoung saying Please, Jaebum-hyung.
No one is allowed to call you Jaebum-hyung, Mark had commanded unreasonably, voice low, and Jaebum's lip had twitched as if suppressing laughter, his eyes glinting wickedly at Mark. But why, Jaebum had whined, he had so many dongsaengs, what would Youngjae and Yugyeom and Bambam call him then?
Fine, Mark conceded, softening, but only if Jaebum called him Mark-hyung once.
Jaebum's eyes widened. Then they darkened, and Mark shivered in anticipation. Mark-hyung, Jaebum breathed, putting all the worship and desire in the world into that word, and Mark was instantly hard.
You like that? Jaebum had drawled teasingly, grinding a knee against his cock. It turns you on, Mark-hyung?
Mark had promptly shut him up with his mouth, and wiped off every trace of humour and impudence from Jaebum's eyes as he eased a finger into Jaebum's sweet tightness, two, then his own throbbing cock.
Jaebum had moaned unabashedly beneath him, sultry and wanton, one arm thrown over his forehead as Mark steadily, carefully rocked into him. He felt Jaebum open up to him a little more with every thrust, felt how he bloomed beneath Mark like a flower opening its petals and then shattered into incoherent orgasm.
Mark wonders what Jaebum will say, how he will look when he sees the expression in his eyes in Mark's drawing. Will he be taken aback? Frightened? Exposed? Will he feel the same way Mark feels every time Jaebum looks at him with those eyes -- warm, passionate, gentle, hesitant, admiring, conflicted, worshipful, frustrated, hungry, afraid, loving, endlessly falling?
Jaebum had stumbled upon the unfinished portrait once, when it was still a work-in-progress. It was propped on the easel by the window in Mark's studio, and Jaebum had spotted it when he came to pick Mark up for dinner after work. Mark had been changing out of his painting clothes and he had emerged to see Jaebum's hand hovering over the cloth draped over the painting, a second from pulling it off.
"No!" he had yelled, sounding harsher than he meant to. Jaebum's head jolted up, startled and confused and wounded. The hurt on his face made Mark's chest clench up but he mumbled some flimsy excuse about how it was a failed attempt that he didn't want anybody to see and herded Jaebum out of the door.
After that, he had made sure to tuck the canvas out of sight whenever Jaebum came around. He had taken on a new job, recommended again by Jinyoung. His last one had received very positive reviews and feedback and Mark's reputation had ascended a rung in the artistic world. The advertisement was now in the post-production stages and Mark couldn't wait to see it, as much because he had participated as because it was the product of Jaebum's sweat and hard work.
Mark had met Jaebum in the spring of last year. The autumn leaves are swirling down from the zelkova trees and crunching beneath their feet, the gentle sun bathing their faces and cool breeze lifting the strands of Jaebum's hair as Mark leads him up to his studio on Jaebum's birthday to finally unveil his present.
His heart is beating erratically like the pulse in Jaebum's wrist when Mark runs his thumb over it and Jaebum smiles at him knowingly. Mark has dedicated the past few months to learning by heart every miniscule shift of Jaebum's expression, the lexicon of his smiles and the language of his eyes, but Jaebum still mystefies him like an unsolved mystery, a Rubik's cube. Mark thinks of Jaebum, how he's both cold and selfless, enigmatic and artless at the same time, and knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life finding out everything about him.
When he tells Jaebum this, his face lights up in genuine delight and disbelief. "You've gone soft, hyung," he teases, flicking Mark's forehead and turning away but not before Mark sees the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Will Jaebum ever bare his heart and soul to him, say the three words Mark has always been subconsciously waiting for? But as Mark looks at Jaebum, he realizes that somewhere along the way, it had ceased to matter whether Jaebum said them or not. Because even if Jaebum didn't verbally express it, he demonstrated it so clearly in his every word and action, the way his voice and face softened when he talked to and looked at Mark, the way he smiled -- giddily, brilliantly, uncontrollably.
As they walk, Mark confesses to Jaebum quietly about how his life had seemed like a dead end, an abyss at the time he met Jaebum. But Jaebum had shown him that there were in fact many possibilities, an infinite and limitless number, rainbow and techni-coloured, if only Mark were brave enough to reach out for them. So Mark had trusted Jaebum to catch him, and let himself fall.
He didn't know it yet at that time, but Jaebum had become his muse, his source of inspiration. And his inspiration bubbled over like a well overflowing with water. He didn't know how to thank Jaebum for that.
"You don't have to thank me, Mark-yah," Jaebum says simply. "At the time I met you, it was a rough period for me too. I was lonely and stressed and overworked, and my last failed relationship had made me a cynic about love. But when I saw you, clothes spattered with paint, wispy and flighty and fragile and beautiful, I had to have you. You opened my eyes, made me see the world in a new way. A fresh way. You gave me the strength to go on and a reason to smile everyday. Most of all, you gave me a home to come back to at the end of the day."
Mark blinks, speechless. He picks his jaw up from the ground. And Jaebum had called him cheesy. Mark opens his mouth to deliver a snarky jab, but the words dry on his tongue at the earnestness and candor in Jaebum's eyes. So for once, Mark decides not to hide his feelings behind bravado and humour. Instead, he just leans up on his tiptoes to press a feathery answering kiss to Jaebum's forehead.
Presently, they arrive at Mark's apartment. He had cleaned it up earlier, swept the floor and cleared the mess of art materials from his studio and moved his easel right to the center of it, in the spot of honour. Even though he is proud of his work, Mark's heart is still beating furiously as he leads Jaebum playfully across the threshold and walks up to the easel, pulling the cloth off to reveal it with a flourish.
When he sees the painting, Jaebum gasps. The eleven A.M. sunlight falling through the window hits the drawing in a way that makes the azzurrite of the background shimmer like a window of sky. The colour had been a last-minute addition, when Mark had felt something was missing from the black-and-white charcoal sketch and decided on impulse to add a dash of colour. Naturally, he had chosen blue, which was not only one of his favourite colours but also the colour Jaebum had come to symbolize to him because it was the colour of the sky, of freedom. Of flying.
Even though blue was a simple and unassuming colour -- indeed, it was one of the primary colours -- it was stunning in its simplicity. Not fancy jewel colours like turquoise or ultramarine or sapphire -- just plain, normal blue, but with the right light illuminating it, it had the power to transform into a powerful, sweeping azure.
And Mark thinks that it's befitting of how Jaebum had changed his life; how he had walked into Mark's life and brought colour with him, lighting up Mark's monochrome existence. It's almost like before he met Jaebum, Mark was colour blind, and Jaebum had taught him colour braille.
He had never expected this, Mark thinks, walking hand-in-hand with Jaebum later on after they have left their apartment, taking a leisurely stroll through the park towards Bambam and Yugyeom's house, where they have agreed to pick them up. Apparently, they now share ownership of the apartment because Bambam has taken Yugyeom in as a boarder, and Yugyeom is working from his home, converting one of the rooms into a live-in studio. Jinyoung had been more than willing to take him on as a freelance artist because Yugyeom is (notoriously) renowned among art circles for his free-spirited and unconventional artistic style.
After that, they have arranged to meet Jinyoung and Jackson at the graffiti bar for Jaebum's birthday celebration. Youngjae was the one who had invited them there, saying he wanted to serenade Jaebum for his birthday. ("No love songs, though, right?" Mark had joked, but Youngjae had only smiled enigmatically. "Maybe." Jaebum laughed gleefully. It gave him a kick to see Mark jealous.)
When Mark had first met these six other boys, he hadn't expected anything from them. But they had given him everything. The unlikely but inextricable bond that they had forged in the past year had taught him all about friendship, just like Jaebum had taught Mark what loving a person meant. And the lessons that Mark had learnt from all of them were invaluable.
As invaluable as Jaebum now, gazing across the length of the table at him with yearning eyes as Youngjae's mellow, soothing voice washes over them, singing something about being just right no matter how hard I try to find, and look at you again and again. His birthday present for Jaebum had turned out to be a set of acoustic covers of Jaebum's favourite songs, unaccompanied by the band, just Youngjae and his guitar sitting alone on a stool on the stage and leaning towards the mic, singing his heart out. His stripped, bare but powerful and pristine voice echoes around the bar, which they have reserved and is empty but for the seven of them.
Yugyeom and Bambam are sitting docilely beside each other, their incessant squabbling quietened for once, but Mark can see from their postures that they are holding hands under the table. In contrast, Jinyoung and Jackson are not as subtle, Jackson perching in Jinyoung's lap as Jinyoung's arms wrap adoringly around him from behind. They've outgrown the phase when their PDA still looked cute to others, but they're still the most demonstrative and affectionate couple Mark has ever seen.
Mark thinks of a different life, a different time. He thinks of a life in which he hadn't come to Korea and a life in which he wasn't a boy. A life in which Jaebum wasn't a boy; a life in which they both weren't boys; a life in which he was a poet, a firefighter, a barista.
A life in which they're in a band, not an indie one like Youngjae's and Jackson's but one of those effiminate Korean pop teenage boybands that are all the rage right now; shackled by fame and convention.
But no matter how many alternate realities Mark can imagine, they always lead back to the same road in the end. Because Mark cannot conceive of any lifetime in which he isn't devastatingly, desperately and head over heels in love with Jaebum.
Youngjae brings the set to a satisfying end with a soulful rendition of John Legend's All of Me. Mark feels like maybe he really is in alarming danger of becoming the stereotypical gay man when he feels the overwhelming urge to stand up and waltz with Jaebum, in front of all their friends. Bambam and Yugyeom would stare at them like they were crazy. Jackson would snigger obnoxiously and Jinyoung would whip out his phone and start snapping pictures, cackling evilly as he plots never to let them live it down. But as Mark meets Jaebum's mischievously glinting eyes over all of their heads, he knows Jaebum would just gamely take it in stride, accept it like he has accepted all the other things about Mark, like Mark has accepted everything about Jaebum.
Youngjae strums the last, fading chord that lingers in the blanket of cozy silence that descends upon them. Then he stands up and bows to raucous applause and cheers (and catcalls and wolf whistles from Jackson). He looks flushed with pride and pleasure as he steps down from the podium and settles down at the table beside Yugyeom, gulping down a drink thirstily.
Next, they all give birthday speeches except Youngjae, who everyone agrees has expressed his feelings more than eloquently. Jackson clamours to go first, and promptly launches into his usual gags that lighten the mood and make everyone burst out laughing. Jinyoung goes next, clearing his throat as he reads from a piece of paper and hemming and hawing awkwardly, but Mark hears a quickly muffled laugh from Jaebum at his adorable bumbling. Bambam waxes lyrical, going almost immediately into cheesy territory with his glib tongue and slick flattery about how great a boss Jaebum is and what a joy it is to work for him. Yugyeom is his patented offbeat and laidback self as he mumbles a few words that somehow manage to sound profound and mysterious.
Finally, it's Mark's turn. He climbs onto the stage with leaden legs and turns to face all of them, trembling like a leaf. A bead of cold sweat rolls down his back as Jaebum smiles up encouragingly at him, eyes eager and hopeful as he sits back to hear what Mark has to say. Mark has an even worse case of stage fright than he had feared and his clammy hands fumble in his pocket for the piece of ratty notebook paper he had drafted his speech on.
But when Mark finally fishes it out and unfolds it, the words nervously scrawled on it in messy handwriting look hopelessly trite and cliche to his eyes. He can't bring himself to say them.
Who is Mark kidding? He knows exactly what words to say to make Jaebum smile, to take his breath away, to bring him to tears. It's just that he's been running away, hiding behind contrived platitudes and artificially flowery words, so that he wouldn't have to say the three simplest, most monumental ones.
Mark balls the paper up in his fist. The rest of them are gazing up at him in silence, looking slightly quizzical but all smiling encouragingly and patiently at him. Jaebum is looking at him with complete understanding and empathy, and Mark knows that even if he chickens out and walks off the stage now without saying anything Jaebum will just laugh to hide his disappointment and hug Mark, whispering It's okay, baby.
From the day they met, Jaebum had always been the one to make the first move. He had always not minded Mark's passivity, wordlessly forgiving his cowardice and fear of rejection. So maybe now it's Mark's turn, to be brave and courageous and take a leap of recklessness for Jaebum, put himself out there just once.
"Jaebum-ah..." Mark starts shakily.
Jaebum smiles, a smile that says I know what you're going to say; a smile that says Me too; a smile that says But I want to hear you say it anyway; and so Mark takes a deep breath and decides to seize the day.