azzurrite (2/4)
In the initial days, the heartbreak seems like a mountain that has settled over him, making it impossible to move, impossible to pick himself up and do anything. Everything seems meaningless and Mark just wants to wallow in the memory of Jaebum's equally heartbroken eyes, finding some perverse measure of comfort in his pain.
But gradually, out of lack of choice more than anything else, he starts moving on. Jinyoung nags him until he agrees to arrange an appointment with the new executive he'll be collaborating with, one of Jaebum's subordinates no doubt. Jaebum had mentioned that this project was helmed by him.
Against his lacklustre reservations, Mark is pleasantly surprised to gruffly find the new guy likeable and easy to work with, imperceptibly growing on him. Kunpimook "Just-call-me-Bambam" Bhuwakul has oversized anime eyes, an infectious laugh and smile almost as charming as Jaebum's. Almost. Mark meets him together with Jinyoung the first time, as Jinyoung is casual acquaintances with him (he seems to know everyone in some way) but they meet up alone subsequent times and Bambam quickly diffuses any awkwardness with his cold jokes and lame puns. Mark feels a special fondness for him because Bambam reminds him of himself when he had first moved to Seoul, a foreigner in a country far away from home, displaced but hopeful for the future.
"I'm glad you've taken Bambam under your wing," Jinyoung tells him affectionately via Kakaotalk. "He really needs more friends in Korea."
"Sorry I can't help," Mark replies. "My only other friend here is Yugyeom."
"Introduce them then!!!!" Jinyoung volleys back enthusiastically, making Mark laugh at the number of exclamation marks. Honestly, Jinyoung is such a mother hen.
"If he drops by," he answers vaguely. "I don't even know where he is most of the time."
Coincidentally, Yugyeom swings by his house the following week, crashing onto Mark's couch with his usual style without any prior notice. Mark's standing agreement to put him up spontaneously is convenient for him because Mark is the only one of his friends who doesn't live with family. Mark doesn't mind because Yugyeom's friendship has been a great and irreplaceable source of warmth and comfort to him since he moved to Korea. Besides, no one can say no to Yugyeom, who is like a giant puppy dog, all liquid brown eyes, lanky frame and gangly sprawling legs. He had been the junior who worshipped Mark most in art school and never stopped.
Yugyeom's visits to his apartment are sporadic and unpredictable, but every time he stops by Mark takes the opportunity to collaborate with him on a canvas -- sometimes it's splashes of colour, a collage of graffiti; others it's slashes of wildly unplanned brushstrokes, abstract but exhilarating. Occasionally when they need to practice their sketching skills they pose for each other, the only ones who are willing to stay still long enough to model for a portrait.
Mark doesn't really have a concrete idea of what Yugyeom does for work except that he's a travelling artist, trekking from town to town, sometimes doing caricatures for a few stray pennies, others holing up in a cabin on a cliffside or mountaintop and spending long months painting the unpeopled scenery and wilderness. According to his tall tales, he has been to France, Italy, Europe and North America, but Mark knows well enough to take his bragging with a pinch of salt.
Mark is always happy to see Yugyeom, despite his already cramped house becoming smaller and even more cluttered than it already is for awhile. Yugyeom livens up his home, his life, bringing with him bright vivid technicolour and loud, almost audible rainbow shades.
"I made another friend in Korea," he tells Yugyeom offhandedly as they sprawl like couch potatoes on the sofa watching TV one evening, stuffing themselves with crisps. He can't hide the pride in his voice. Even after almost a decade, Mark still considers it a miracle when people here want to be friends with awkward, boring, monosyllabic him.
"Really? Cool. Let's see him," Yugyeom replies like a doting father, not taking his eyes off the TV, and that's that. Mark asks Bambam to come over to his apartment the next day for their discussion and Bambam agrees readily.
To his amusement, for the first time, they don't get any work done. It's surprising because Bambam is kind of a workaholic. He's immensely hardworking and always eager to prove himself, as passionate about advertising as Mark is about art. But that evening, he's so dazzled by Yugyeom that he forgets why he came to Mark's house in the first place.
By the time the evening is over, Yugyeom has gotten Bambam drunk on some sort of dodgy rice liquor that Mark had refused to touch but Bambam had gamely taken big swigs of, made Bambam pose for a half-nude (topless) self-portrait (which was remarkably well-drawn considering Yugyeom was falling down drunk), and charmed the pants off Bambam (literally, since he ended up snoring on Mark's couch in only pink flamingo boxers).
Mark texts the events of the day and updates Jinyoung on their rapidly and heartwarmingly blossoming friendship, feeling like a proud parent. Jinyoung coos like he's just given birth to a litter of beautiful kittens, even though he's not even present.
"Take a picture for me," Jinyoung pleads, and Mark obligingly snaps a less-than-flattering selca of the two brats sprawled over each other in a tangle of limbs on his couch, snoring with their mouths open.
"That is the cutest thing I have ever seen!" Jinyoung screams at him through Facetime the moment he sees the photo. "I'm coming over right now."
"Wait, what?" Mark yelps too late, as the call ends.
He sighs and halfheartedly tries to clear up some of the torn canvases and various food wrappers littered over the floor, cans of beer (Bambam's) and fake crystal glass (Yugyeom's, who pretentiously refused to drink anything but champagne but had slurped the beer right up when Mark poured it into the glass and lied that it was Chardonnay). The dubious bottle of rice liquor is alarmingly empty and emitting a questionable odour, but they look more asleep than unconscious from alcohol poisoning so Mark doesn't bother to worry.
He is dragging the half-filled garbage bag into the small nook of his kitchen when the doorbell rings. Yugyeom stirs, disturbed by the noise and frowns as he mutters something indecipherable. Mark passes him as he stumbles through the living room towards the front door.
The doorbell rings again as he hurries to open it. As Mark places his hand on the doorknob, he is knocked off balance by a heavy weight and turns, gasping to see that Yugyeom has gotten up, drawn by the noise and is teetering against him, arm hooked around Mark's shoulder. He hadn't realized Yugyeom had taken off his shirt too, probably because it was too hot.
Mark sighs in exasperation but doesn't bother to peel Yugyeom off him, assuming it's Jinyoung outside. His jaw drops when he opens it to find Im Jaebum standing in the hallway, uncertain expression hardening and eyes narrowing dangerously when he sees Yugyeom hanging off Mark's shoulder, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.
Mark gapes at him, speechless, unable to reconcile Im Jaebum and his front door. What on earth could he possibly be doing here? Before Mark can spit out the words, Jaebum is pushing roughly past him, knocking him off his feet and sending both him and Yugyeom sprawling precariously. At the last minute, Mark manages to regain both their balances, but he feels his toes curling in anger at how Jaebum had just literally barged into his house and rudely shoved him.
Mark maneuvres Yugyeom onto the loveseat as gently as he can, leaving him slumped there before storming after Jaebum, who is striding across his living room like he owns the place.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mark's voice is a pitch higher than he intended it to come out, sounding even more shrill as compared to Jaebum's which is an octave lower as he turns around and levels a blank stare at Mark. "Bambam texted me to get him."
Mark flounders, stupefied for a moment before he gathers his wits and feels a tinge of relief. Being the considerate kid he is, Bambam must've taken to heart Mark's joke about his apartment being too small for three people to spend the night. It was understandable that he assumed Mark and Jaebum were friends since they had worked on the project together before he took over. At least Jaebum is aware that Bambam is here too, which means he knows Mark isn't alone with Yugyeom. "So you know who --" he starts, but Jaebum cuts him off sharply.
"I don't want to know who that sleazebag is, and I don't give a fuck. It's none of my business who you want to sleep around with. I'm just sorry I believed your lie."
"What - what lie?" Mark manages, the ground slipping out from beneath his feet.
"That you're not gay," Jaebum spits out, peeling off his jacket to drape over Bambam's bare torso and hoisting his arm over his shoulder with a gentleness that is undetectable in his words.
"I'm not! Yugyeom is my --" Mark protests hotly, but Jaebum just gives him a withering look that makes the rest of the sentence die on his lips. He half-drags, half-carries Bambam to the door and leaves without a backward glance, dismissing Mark callously.
Mark stares after their retreating figures, stunned. He's still reeling from what just transpired and his mind is clouded by alcohol and anger and frustration and confusion but there's only one thing he knows for certain: It's been nearly a month since he last met Jaebum, but Mark is still terrifyingly drawn to him.
When Jinyoung finds him ten minutes later, Mark is curled up against the wall with the door still hanging open, the breeze drafting in drying the teartracks on his cheeks as he breaks down noiselessly and Yugyeom slumbers obliviously on the loveseat.
"What the fuck?" Jinyoung's shriek rings out through the apartment past midnight, jolting Yugyeom from his restless doze and making Mark hurriedly shush him from waking the neighbours.
Jinyoung is outraged and implacable. "What the --" he hisses again, quieter but still sounding like a spitting wildcat. "How could you keep all this from me till now? I told you, didn't I? To tell me if anyone bullied you here."
Jinyoung's face is drawn and pale with worry and sympathy, and Mark feels a lump in his throat. He had never appreciated Jinyoung's loyalty, always taking him for granted.
"You're my best friend," he blurts out passionately, grabbing Jinyoung's hand as he brushes Mark's damp lashes with the pads of his fingers.
Jinyoung's face finally softens at the words into his usual warm, kindly self. "Then why didn't you tell me?" he asks softly, pulling Mark into a forgiving hug.
"I knew he was an asshole," Mark thinks he hears Jinyoung mutter grimly by his ear as he surrenders to the soothing rhythm of Jinyoung rubbing concentric circles into his back and coaxing him into a drained and mildly drunken slumber.
He wakes up with an epic hangover the next day to find Jinyoung gone, Yugyeom still comatose, the house looking like the aftermath of a hurricane, and only one new text on his phone from Bambam. He sounds uncharacteristically subdued, unlike his usual boisterous self and Mark wonders with dread if Jaebum has said something to him. He swears grimly under his breath. If Jaebum tries to sow discord between him and Bambam, it's war.
Bambam apologizes in his message for getting drunk in Mark's house the previous night, leaving his clothes there and not getting any of the work they had planned done. But since they're running on a tight schedule and can't afford to skip one session, he asks if Mark can come to the office today and catch up on what they missed out after he gets off work.
Mark replies immediately, reassuring him that it's totally fine and that both him and Yugyeom had a good time the previous night. He adds that he has no schedules planned today and can drop by Bambam's office in the evening. He had thrown Bambam's clothes in the dryer because they reeked of beer and could bring it over then.
Bambam replies promptly too, his relief touchingly apparent. He effusively insists that Mark doesn't have to go to the trouble of lugging the laundry to the office and he'll follow him home after the meeting to pick it up instead. It's heartwarming to know that Bambam treasures this friendship as much as Mark does. He also asks if Yugyeom is okay, and Mark stifles a chuckle at that. Jinyoung was right, those two brats are seriously adorable.
At half past five, Mark cabs to the office building Bambam's advertising company is in. He tries to forget the last time he had been here, which was merely a few months ago but seems like a past lifetime now. His hands tighten on the straps of his bag as the lift moves up to seventh floor, thankfully empty. He had entertained the horrifying possibility of coincidentally meeting Jaebum here, but dismissed the likelihood as too low to be a concern. He can't wait to sequester himself in the conference room he arranged to meet Bambam in and finally relax.
To his dismay, on the fifth floor, the doors open. And Mark's heart sinks to see, standing outside, none other than Im Jaebum, looking like his worst nightmare come true.
Okay, maybe Mark is being overdramatic. There are worse things than this, but Mark can't think of anything more excruciatingly awkward as Jaebum steps into the lift, looking like he just swallowed a lemon too. He's probably too prideful to admit that Mark affects him and back down from entering the lift. As prideful as Mark.
The two floors that ensue feel like a tiny lifetime. Jaebum steps in, standing beside Mark, an arm's length away, his sleeve momentarily brushing Mark's bare arm as they cross paths. The hairs on Mark's arms stand up, gooseflesh rising and Mark bites down a shudder.
The first moment the lift doors had opened, Mark had vaguely registered something, and puzzled, he sneaks a stealthy glance from the corner of his eye to confirm it. Nope, he's not mistaken -- there's a bruise at the corner of Jaebum's lip. It looks painful.
Mark shakes his head to clear his thoughts and tells himself sternly that it's none of his business. If someone hit Jaebum, he probably deserved it. There's no way that Mark is going to feel the slightest bit sorry for him. Neither does he care a single bit about who Jaebum was in a brawl with or why.
The lift arrives on the seventh storey, doors opening with a ding. Mark hangs back, waiting for Jaebum to step out first, not wanting to brush against him accidentally again, but as Jaebum walks out he turns around abruptly to face Mark. Mark feels his eyes widen as Jaebum extracts his hand from his pocket where it was tucked. He instinctively shrinks away from the sheer size of Jaebum's hand, the leashed strength in the breadth of his knuckles and coarseness of his palm.
Hurt flashes across Jaebum's eyes for an unguarded nanosecond, but his hand doesn't pause its ascent towards Mark's face. It settles on the slope of Mark's jaw and to Mark's utter mortification and shock Jaebum brushes his thumb gently, caressingly over Mark's cheek, grazing the corner of his lip briefly.
Mark jerks away reflexively, his heart slamming like a sledgehammer. Jaebum's hand falls away to reveal a smudge of emerald green paint on his finger, and Mark recalls with horror and abject embarrassment that he had tripped and fallen over the garbage bag while rushing out of the house and landed in a stray palette of drying watercolours. He thought he had wiped everything off his cheek. Apparently not.
Mark groans inwardly, the only response he can think of or muster to glare at Jaebum with hostile and reproachful eyes as he turns away coldly and forces himself to walk to the conference room without looking back.
The ensuing hour of overtime work with Bambam is rather productive, but Mark's thoughts as they leave the office are far away. Bambam snaps a finger in front of his unfocused eyes, getting his attention. "Hyung, are you okay?" he looks concerned.
"U-um, yeah. Sorry," Mark smiles sheepishly, flushing, and Bambam repeats his question. "Can I drop by your apartment to check on Yug-- I mean, pick up my clothes?"
"Sure, no problem," Mark covers his smile, "Although he's probably still out like a log."
Bambam smiles mischievously. "Don't worry. I know exactly how to wake him up."
"Uhh... okay." Mark laughs, rolling his eyes and wisely choosing not to ask. "But play nice, kids." He ruffles Bambam's hair and squeaks with laughter when Bambam blows his top.
"Oh right, that reminds me," Mark exclaims. "Jinyoung said he wanted to meet you guys last night, but by the time he came over you were gone and Yugyeom was asleep."
Bambam lights up. "I wanna see Jinyoung-hyung too!" he clamours.
Mark grins, foisting him off. "Okay, okay. Let's drop by his office on the way back and surprise him."
"No, hyung!" Bambam pouts, stamping his foot. "I want to see Yugyeomie, now. He must be lonely at home by himself. You go pick up Jinyoung-hyung and bring him back," he orders imperiously.
Mark gapes at him, but Bambam looks unapologetic in contrast to his usual impeccable manners. There's a devilish glint in his eye that makes Mark think that he might've misjudged his innocence.
"Ugh," he groans unwillingly, grumbling under his breath. "Fine."
Bambam whoops loudly and flings his arms around Mark in a bear hug. "Thanks, hyung! I'll wait for you at your apartment, then!" They part ways at the station, since they're heading in different directions. "Oh, and --" Bambam calls after a few steps, and Mark turns eagerly, thinking he'll offer to come along, but Bambam only smirks, batting his eyelashes. "Can you bring some pizza home?"
When Mark strolls into Jinyoung's office without knocking, he's not surprised that Jinyoung is still sitting at his desk, working overtime with his glasses perched on his nose. What makes him inhale softly is seeing an unmistakable purplish swelling at the corner of Jinyoung's right eye, too obvious to hide even behind his glasses.
Mark takes a step forward, and Jinyoung jumps visibly when he looks up to see him. "Shit," he says, hand flying up to cover his eye too late.
"You..." Mark breathes. "You hit Jaebum?"
"N-no," Jinyoung lies unconvincingly, looking faint, "It was someone else."
Mark scoffs. "Come off it." He slams his palms down on Jinyoung's table, making him start and leans forward to stare evenly down at Jinyoung, who averts his gaze guiltily. "You know someone else who's left-handed besides Im Jaebum?" he challenges.
Jinyoung swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, and finally gives up the pretense, taking up another tack.
"He punched me," he whimpers grumpily, lowering his hand to show Mark his injured eye.
"Who started it?" Mark fires back without sympathy, folding his arms and finding his answer in Jinyoung's sullen look.
After a minute of loaded silence, Jinyoung bursts out, full of righteous indignation, "What else was I supposed to do? He hurt my best friend!"
The words stop Mark's tirade cold. He doesn't know why he's being so harsh on Jinyoung, when he knows full well that Jinyoung was only acting in defense of him. But all Mark can think of is the painful-looking bruise on Jaebum's mouth, the way he winced almost imperceptibly as he tried and failed to scowl back at Mark after wiping away the paint. He can only imagine what Jaebum thinks about his and Jinyoung's relationship now. He probably thinks that Mark is a slut, a cocktease who leads men on and leaves them hanging.
But why should he care about what Jaebum thinks at all? It's immaterial. He isn't duty-bound to have any more interactions with Jaebum, now that Bambam has replaced him. And in the short time they've known each other, Jaebum has jumped to conclusions way too often and insufferably. Good riddance to bad rubbish, Mark knows Jinyoung would say bluntly if he asked him.
"Mark-hyung?" Jinyoung pipes up tentatively, rousing him from his daze. Mark snaps out of it to see Jinyoung gazing plaintively at him.
"Are you mad at me?" he asks in a small voice, and Mark's anger melts away.
"No," he says heavily, brushing a tender thumb over Jinyoung's bruise. "I know you did it for me. But next time, don't resort to violence, okay?"
Jinyoung nods obediently, looking relieved and anxious as he leans his cheek into Mark's palm. "Why are you here? Is there a problem with the sketch?" he looks concerned suddenly.
Mark laughs. "No, chill. You're such a workaholic," he teases. "I just wanted to pick you up from work. Bambam and Yugyeom are waiting for you at my house."
Jinyoung leaps to his feet, his face illuminating like a lightbulb at his favourite dongsaengs' names. "Seriously?" he gushes. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Bambam's favourite pizza place closes at seven!" he admonishes, blowing past Mark and out the door, ignoring his wheezing laughter.
It's kind of ridiculous, Mark thinks later, lying in his bed next to Jinyoung and staring at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan as the muffled noises of Yugyeom and Bambam watching cartoons in the living room drift through the walls, how Jaebum can fluster him into a wreck with just one gesture, his touch still burning on Mark's cheek like a fingerprint tattooed to his face, even hours later. The blistering sensation doesn't seem to be fading, only growing stronger the more Mark reminisces about it.
Why had Jaebum done that? Mark has realized that the reason why he can't stop thinking about Jaebum is that almost all his actions stump Mark, that he can never predict what Jaebum is going to say next or what he is going to do. It's breathtakingly thrilling, dizzyingly unnerving, how Jaebum is the most frustratingly enigmatic person Mark has ever met. He compels Mark like a magnet, like a moth drawn uncontrollably to a lovelight.
And the fact that Jaebum has all but admitted that Mark affects him too, shakes him up -- it's overwhelmingly heady, to say the least. Mark thinks of the intensity of Jaebum's dark, soulful eyes, the iron of his grip, the gentleness of his fingertips and the heat of his skin. He thinks of the way Jaebum makes his name sound like a caress, like something sacred and sacrosanct.
Without being aware of it, the tears are falling again, soundlessly, unstoppably. Mark presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and tries to stem them to no avail. As if there's an endless reservoir behind his eyes, it continues its relentless flow, seeping through his fingers.
He doesn't dare to make a noise, afraid to wake Jinyoung up. Minutes later, though, he feels gentle fingers firmly prying them off his face and Jinyoung looking tenderly down at him, his eyes glimmering in the dark.
"Hyung," he says quietly, stroking Mark's damp hair back from his forehead. "What's wrong?"
Mark bites his lip but his chin trembles anyway. He feels like an emotionally overwrought adolescent or hormonal pregnant woman -- has been behaving exactly like one ever since he met Im Jaebum. It's disgraceful.
Jinyoung waits, tilting his head, until Mark can't hold back the dam anymore and blurts out, "Everything."
In incoherent rambling punctuated by breathless hiccups, Mark finally confides in Jinyoung how this has magnified beyond his control, beyond his wildest imagination, into something unspeakable, unimaginably colossal. He has only met Jaebum a handful of times, but the depth of his feeling for him is something that is inexplicable and unbelievable. And it terrifies Mark beyond measure because he has never, in his twenty-nine years of life, ever felt this way before.
It scares the shit out of Mark to admit it -- but it appears that he's desperately, madly and blindly in love with Im Jaebum.
Jinyoung's face is pale in the moonlight. "Mark, you hardly know him," he argues reasonably. "He could be anyone -- a pervert, a creep, an asshole."
"I know," Mark says grimly.
"He's a guy."
"I know."
"He's probably, ninety-nine point nine percent, straight."
"I know."
"He's actually a certified asshole," Jinyoung states calmly.
Mark snorts a humourless laugh. "I know."
"But still...?" Jinyoung's voice is pitying.
"I can't control it, Jinyoung. I feel like I'm going crazy. I can't fight it anymore." The words in his voice feel and sound like broken glass.
Jinyoung falls silent for a few moments as he rubs Mark's back absently, apparently pondering the predicament pensively. Then Mark feels the bed dip, springs creaking as he rolls nimbly off. "Be right back. I'm gonna get you a cup of warm milk. It'll be easier to sleep if you drink some."
"Thanks," Mark murmurs, squeezing Jinyoung's hand gratefully. Jinyoung squeezes his fingers back reassuringly, creaking the door open and slipping into the slice of light slanting through for a second before he closes it behind him again.
Mark lies in the dark, his eyelids fluttering drowsily until he senses the passage of about ten minutes and Jinyoung finally enters the room again.
Mark sits up on his elbows. "What took you so long?" he says petulantly. Jinyoung sits down beside him and switches on the table lamp as he carefully places the mug of milk on the bedside table.
"I had to heat it up." In the dim lamplight, Jinyoung looks truimphant for some reason, probably a trick of Mark's imagination.
Jinyoung fusses over him like he's an incapacitated patient, lifting the cup to Mark's lips and instructing him to sip it slowly. Mark obeys, content to leave himself in Jinyoung's skilful hands.
He has finished almost all the milk when they hear a crash outside which Mark dimly identifies as the front door slamming. Their heads both swivel to the bedroom door, startled, and Mark jerks up so abruptly he would've spilled the drink if the cup were still full.
"Shit," he mutters under his breath, his wide eyes meeting Jinyoung's alarmed ones. "I think I forgot to lock the front door. Do you think it's a burglar? The kids!" Mark flings aside the blanket, about to swing his legs off the bed and rush out to rescue Bambam and Yugyeom when the door of his bedroom bursts open.
Mark's world tilts precariously on its axis for a moment to see Jaebum standing in his doorway, breathing hard, his eyes tight and frantic as they run swiftly down Mark's body and attire, then move suspiciously between him and Jinyoung and back. It's a scene that makes no sense at all and Mark momentarily wonders if this is a bizarre dream.
Jinyoung sets the cup back on the bedside table, looking irritated but oddly more resigned than surprised, and Mark realizes what's so strange about the whole situation -- Jinyoung doesn't seem to find Jaebum's sudden appearance as unexpected as it is. Which could only mean...
Mark swings his accusing, panicked gaze on Jinyoung, but before he can say anything Jaebum takes a few brisk steps towards them, glowering at Jinyoung with undisguised dislike. If looks could kill, Mark thinks Jinyoung would be cut to ribbons by Jaebum's bladelike glare by now.
However, Jinyoung seems barely daunted, staring right back defiantly, his chin tilted up in silent challenge. His lip curls in a sneer of barely-concealed disdain too, showing how much he thinks of Jaebum. If Mark didn't know better he'd say Jinyoung was deliberately trying to provoke Jaebum into losing his temper, but that can't be. He had just promised Mark only this eveniing to abstain from violence from now on.
Mark places a warning and placating hand on Jinyoung's arm, trying not to show his fear and shock at Jaebum barging into his house again at a time when Mark is most vulnerable and unprepared. Jaebum's eyes snap instantly towards Mark's hand on Jinyoung's arm, white hot rage flashing across them. Mark feels even more befuddled at how Jaebum seems to be overreacting.
Jaebum doesn't seem to notice Mark's presence, instead spearing Jinyoung with both his eyes. "You lied to me," he fumes, voice threateningly low, and Mark shudders as he realizes the full extent of Jaebum's mood. He's seriously pissed this time. Like, livid.
Mark blinks in confusion, unable to understand Jaebum's accusation. He nudges Jinyoung, shooting him a questioning glare but Jinyoung seems to understand Jaebum with no problems as he replies coolly, "I didn't."
Jaebum inhales audibly at this, taking another step forward that makes Mark shrink back. His fingers curl and uncurl at his sides, knuckles on his trembling fists pale. "You dare to?" he intones, and all Mark can think is Holy shit because this is starting to seem like the beginning of another round of fisticuffs and it does not look good.
He is too distracted by his anxiety to notice Jinyoung's fingers closing over the nape of his neck, pulling Mark's face closer as he leans in -- but not before a large hand comes down between them like an erected wall and before he knows what's happening Jaebum has grabbed Jinyoung by the scruff of his collar and hauled him to his feet. "What's going on?" Mark yells, stumbling up too and physically shoving between them, placing either hands on both their chests and pushing them apart with difficulty. "I said no more fighting!" He turns on Jinyoung fiercely. "You promised me."
At the words, the fire in Jinyoung's eyes subsides and he reluctantly drops his drawn-back fist but not his seething stare into Jaebum's equally smouldering eyes. This is starting to get ridiculous and Mark feels like the only adult amidst a bunch of kindergarteners.
"Please tell me what's going on," he implores Jinyoung, because he's too cowardly to face Jaebum's darkening gaze. But he can feel the quickening of Jaebum's heartbeat beneath his palm resting lightly on Jaebum's chest, through the thin fabric of his shirt. Jaebum is dressed down in casual sweats today, hair disheveled, like he had rushed out of the house without bothering to change into streetwear. It's the first time Mark has seen him out of a suit, and he looks startlingly younger than usual.
Jinyoung smirks, one side of his lips lifting. "I texted him that I was going to kiss you in ten minutes if he didn't appear."
"You what?" Mark shrieks, his voice cracking embarrassingly.
"You played me for a fool," Jaebum growls, voice still sounding unappeased, spoiling for a fight.
"I was serious, you prick," Jinyoung shoots back antagonistically, unfazed by Jaebum's temper. "I don't think there's anybody in the world who would say no to kissing Mark-hyung." There's a teasing lilt to Jinyoung's voice, but he doesn't sound like he's lying entirely. Mark gapes at him but Jinyoung doesn't glance back, still looking at Jaebum. "But I think the question here is, why do you care? You don't... like Mark, do you?"
Jaebum flushes hotly, his face splotchy even in the light of the table lamp. "Of course not," he snaps, making Mark flinch, and Jinyoung's lips curve into a feline smile like a cat watching a mouse walking into a trap.
"Then what business is it of yours who Mark-hyung kisses?" He enunciates the words coolly, letting them hang in the air, making Jaebum look foolish with his own declaration.
For the first time since Mark met him, Jaebum looks flustered, his collected and composed exterior slipping. Mark almost feels sorry for him as Jaebum swallows, seeming at a loss for words to retaliate and justify his presence. But only for a second before he bitterly remembers Jaebum's swift and certain denial. And besides, he's too preoccupied by his own swirling emotions, spiralling through him like a whirlwind.
Jinyoung makes infuriating sense, as usual. Hadn't Jaebum been the one who said the words We can't? Where was that resolve now? The problem is that he's acting so irrationally, blowing hot then cold, aloof and then territorial, so fast it gives Mark whiplash, that he doesn't even have time to figure out how to respond and it's not fair. But Mark is starting to learn that Im Jaebum doesn't play fair.
Even though he's pissed at Jinyoung for blindsiding him with Jaebum's arrival, butting into his affairs and not informing him about the text, Mark has no other choice than to take his side. "He's right," he hears himself blurting out harshly. "You wanted to sever our ties, and we have nothing more to do with each other. What me and Jinyoung do now doesn't concern you."
This time, he grabs Jinyoung's shoulder, feeling a dim stab of guilt for using him to spite Jaebum, but Jinyoung doesn't seem to mind as he unresistingly leans closer too. Mark feels a surprising lack of revulsion as their faces move closer, just a sense of comfort that is the polar opposite of what Jaebum's proximity makes him feel. Maybe he is less heterosexual than he had always thought.
"It does!" Jaebum explodes as his arm moves between them again like a steel bar, this time landing on Mark's shoulder. Mark shudders as Jaebum's hand locks around his upper arm painfully, wrenching Mark away to face him. Jaebum looks broken down, defeated and furious with himself, like the two words had been forced out of him.
The thudding of Mark's heart is so deafening in his ears as he looks at Jaebum that he is sure both Jaebum and Jinyoung can hear it too. Jaebum runs a shaking hand through his hair and Mark licks his dry lips, wondering if they had gone too far. Jaebum looks terrified, his face pale and eyes stark and wild.
"Why?" Jinyoung pipes up from beside him, and Mark nearly forgives his actions for that alone. Trust Jinyoung to wordlessly intuit what Mark is dying to say but doesn't have the guts to. Mark feels gratitude flooding him along with sheer terror of the next word that will fall from Jaebum's lips like a guillotine.
But Jaebum doesn't spare Jinyoung a glance, still gazing hypnotically into Mark's eyes, unblinking. "Get out," he mutters under his breath, shooting Jinyoung a wilting glare that could level mountains, and Mark quivers on Jinyoung's behalf.
"I'm not going to ask twice," Jaebum says curtly, louder, and Jinyoung jerks into motion, surprisingly obedient. Maybe Jaebum's frostiness is finally wearing him down. Or maybe this had been his plan from the start and he has achieved his aim of sending Jaebum that damned message. Probably the latter, if Mark knows Jinyoung well enough. They had played right into his ruse, Mark as much as Jaebum, but Mark doesn't really care as Jinyoung meekly trudges to the bedroom door and pulls it open.
There is a tumult of squeaks and muffled Ows and both Mark and Jaebum spin around to see Yugyeom and Bambam tumblng over each other into an ungraceful heap through the open door. They quickly get to their feet, looking shamefaced and shifty, but more for being caught than the act of eavesdropping. Bambam's mouth falls open as his avid eyes land on Jinyoung's face. "Hyung, did you and Jaebum-hyung fight?"
Yugyeom rolls his eyes incredulously and raps Bambam's head with a knuckle. "Idiot. Even I noticed that they already had the bruises when they came, and I was the one who was sleeping like a pig all day."
"What?!" Bambam gasps, saucer-eyed, as if this is brand new information, and Jinyoung loses his patience with both of them as he elbows them bodily out of the room and follows, slamming the door shut with a bang that sounds like a wordless warning.
Mark inhales softly as he abruptly finds himself alone with Jaebum in the room -- Jaebum whose mere presence feels like a physical blow; who towers over Mark, so powerfully-built that it makes Mark's knees buckle; whose undivided attention makes Mark feel like he's freefalling into a bottomless abyss and whose eyes make him feel like he's hit the nonexistent bottom hard and all the air is battered out of his lungs, asphyxiating.
Jaebum is looking at him reproachfully, the blush on his cheeks fading into a delicious tinge of pink, looking helpless and vulnerable as if his defenses have been stripped from him. As if Mark has stripped his defenses from him and left him exposed and raw and naked.
There's something mutely beseeching about his eyes that makes Mark feel the responsibility to muster the courage to break the silence, even though he's shaking in his boots.
"What did you mean...?" he breathes hushedly, trying to read something in Jaebum's inscrutable eyes. "I thought you said we can't. You said we were breaking the rules." His voice comes out in a pained whisper, with shamefully undisguised anguish.
Jaebum lowers his gaze as if humbled by Mark's intensity, his throat working as he swallows and says hoarsely. "I don't know," he admits, and the burn of Mark's shame recedes a little at the way Jaebum sounds as undone as him. "All I know is that when I saw that message, it was like I was blinded by a flash of white. I don't even know how I got here. And..." he says, reaching out apprehensively to tuck Mark's hair gently behind his ear, "We're not colleagues anymore."
The four unremarkable words sound like a release in Jaebum's voice, a ray of hope and possibility.
"Was that why you..." Mark trails off hopefully, unable to continue his question, but Jaebum understands his meaning thankfully.
He chuckles drily and shakily. "I wish I could say that, but it would be a lie," he admits eventually. "The truth is that I was a mess, and still am. I did it out of selfishness. I couldn't face you. I tried to run away. I tried to stay away, God knows I did, but -- it didn't work."
Jaebum is shaking his head at Mark, his eyes tight and worried like he's trying to warn Mark not to come any closer, but his hands speak a different meaning entirely as they tighten in the back of Mark's shirt, crushing him into his arms.
Jaebum is so contrary, so undisciplined, so feckless and out-of-control, but that's exactly what Mark finds so exhilaratingly breathtaking about him. The disparity between his actions and feelings speaks to something deep inside Mark, stirs his heartstrings with the adrenaline of hotblooded impulse.
Deep down inside, like him, Jaebum is a risk-taker as well, someone who follows his instincts and trusts his heart over his mind. And this time, Mark isn't alone. He has finally found someone willing to take this leap of reckless faith together.
"What about you?" Jaebum whispers, combing his eyes urgently, and Mark realizes that he hasn't been as verbose and forthcoming about his feelings. Because of their intensity, he had assumed they would be apparent on his face with glasslike clarity, that he could leave the embarrassing confessions unspoken. But as Jaebum waits for his answer, looking like he's staring down a precipice, Mark fleetingly entertains the possibility that Jaebum might just find him as unreadable as he is to Mark.
Quickly, he puts Jaebum out of his suspense. "Me too," is all he can force out shyly. The two meagre words are a starkly lacking attempt to describe the enormity of what Jaebum makes him feel, but they are literally all Mark can say before his throat closes up and refuses to make another peep. He wonders how the both of them will cope in future, sharing the same introvertedness and undemonstrative woodenness, mulishly stubborn. Will they be able to get past this incompatibility?
Jaebum looks like having this conversation feels like swallowing glass for him too, but he demonstrates a greater willpower than Mark as he forces himself to continue, "You'd be willing to... make that sacrifice... for me?"
When Mark nods slightly, the way Jaebum's face lights up robs him of breath for a moment. He's never seen Jaebum's face soften in pure childish delight like this before and it throws Mark in a way that Jaebum's maturity and overbearing authority have failed to do before from the start. It makes his heart tremble and Mark immediately wishes Jaebum wouldn't show his adorably boyish side because Mark can just tell that that is going to be his greatest weakness and undoing.
"I thought you weren't gay," he blurts haplessly, regretting the words the moment they are out as Jaebum's face falls.
His lips are set in a terse line as he replies, "I'm not. But... there's no doubt that I'm attracted to you." His eyes blaze into Mark with a desire that makes Mark's face heats up and seems to set his entire body alight, even though Jaebum isn't even touching him. He shrinks away infinitesimally, shaken by the power of the sensation.
"Are you?" Jaebum asks, a hint of challenge in his voice, a hint of pleading. Mark isn't sure whether he's asking if Mark is gay or attracted to him, but either way it doesn't matter because the answer is an irrevocable yes, judging from the way his body is responding right now. Mark can confidently say that he has never felt such a primal and animal attraction to any human being, male or female, as he feels towards Im Jaebum. He doesn't want to think about the implications of this fact.
So instead, he just nods again with the same paralyzing and pathetic inability to speak. But the relief that washes over Jaebum's face, restoring its colour makes Mark feel impossibly like he's just written an entire love letter to Jaebum, bared his heart and soul in an impassioned and heartfelt confession. He feels inexpressibly grateful to Jaebum for instinctively understanding Mark's difficulty with speech, with expressing his emotions verbally. He has far more sensitivity than Mark had given him credit for.
Finally, relievingly, Jaebum breaks their gaze, and Mark sags and heaves a muted sigh of relief. His body is damp with cold sweat, clothes sticking to his back and he feels short of breath like he's just run a marathon or had a full-body workout. It's been the most nerve-wracking confrontation of his life, and that's saying a lot because Mark hates confrontations.
He realizes that Jaebum is fishing his phone out of his pants pocket and stares, puzzled. Maybe he's calling a cab to go home.
"Are you... leaving?" Mark says timidly, and Jaebum looks up, eyes darkening with amusement for some reason. "Hell no," he says emphatically, then looks embarrassed. "I mean..." he amends shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Unless you want me to."
"No!" This time, Mark is the one who blurts it out vehemently, and he blushes violently as Jaebum's eyes widen, then glitter in comprehension. "I mean, y-you can stay as long as you want," Mark stammers, unable to meet his warm burning gaze.
He hears Jaebum's breathless laugh. "I'm texting Bambam to leave and take the other two lightbulbs with him," Jaebum says, voice soft and deep, and Mark inhales sharply as he looks up to see Jaebum's face now transformed by a full-blown smirk as he finishes typing and tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied look.
Mark's heart skips a beat. He had known -- he had just known Jaebum had a wicked sense of humour hidden behind that stern adult front. It was something about the way he caught himself before he smiled with his teeth, the way his eyes couldn't help dancing with mirth even so.
Sure enough, within less than a minute, Mark hears three pairs of retreating footsteps and the latch of his front door sliding closed with a crisp click. The house plunges into a thick, opaque silence in which Mark can hear his pulse roaring in his ears again. The air between them is crackling with a tension that is almost electric.
"How... how did you get them to leave so fast?" Mark sounds breathless, voice rubbed raw.
Jaebum's eyes smoulder like it's an aphrodisiac to him. He clears his throat and replies, voice sounding as tight, "I bribed him with a payrise."
Mark laughs, and in vast contrast all traces of laughter fade from Jaebum's eyes. He takes a step towards Mark, and suddenly Mark finds himself staring up into Jaebum's noir orbs and dilated, unfocused pupils.
"Mark," Jaebum breathes, and it sounds like a plea, a prayer, an agonized gulp of air Jaebum has been drowning and dying to take.
"Jaebum," Mark replies instinctively, and he inhales audibly, stopping cold in his tracks as he looks down at Mark in disbelief. "It's..." his voice is husky in a way that sends a ripple down Mark's spine. "It's the first time you've said my name."
Mark is shocked to see that Jaebum's eyes are glistening with unshed tears.
"Please," he begs, desperation and need colouring his voice. "Say it again?"
Jaebum closes his eyes, waiting, and Mark chokes the word out over the lump suddenly blocking his throat. "Jaebum-ah."
Jaebum's eyes fly open, filled with wonder and emotion, and his fingers don't tremble this time as he takes Mark's chin with disconcerting gentleness and tilts his face up, leaning down to claim his lips. Jaebum tastes like chain-smoked cigarettes and too many bottles of wine, like missing and unendurable longing.
And Mark feels nothing like what he had felt when he almost kissed Jinyoung. There is nothing comfortable or secure about kissing Jaebum. It feels risky and dangerous and lethal, hot and wet and filthy and perverse. Jaebum kisses Mark in a way he has never been kissed before, that makes him feel utterly debauched and desecrated, gasping for breath when Jaebum pulls away, teeth catching Mark's tongue and lower lip with a lingering nip as they break apart to drag much-needed air into their lungs.
Mark gapes up at Jaebum, eyes shocked and round as Jaebum runs a hand through his hair, panting, then abruptly crushes Mark to his chest. Mark can actually feel and hear Jaebum's heartbeat, hammering against his own chest like a tattoo that makes him suddenly painfully aware of Jaebum's feverish, muscled body pressed against the length of his and the hardness of his groin digging into Mark's thigh.
Jaebum lets out a low, uncontrolled groan at the contact, grinding his crotch against Mark's roughly, and Mark feels a cold fear ripple down his spine. He's not ready. For whatever Jaebum wants to do. Whatever two men do... together.
Mark struggles weakly in the cage of Jaebum's arms, partly because of this and partly because he doesn't want Jaebum to sense his own arousal, his cock stirring in his pants with a hunger that is alien and foreign and terrifyingly unfamiliar to Mark. The truth is that, with any of the girls he's ever slept with, he's never felt so turned on before.
Jaebum growls low in his throat at Mark's rebuff, sounding frustrated and wounded. Mark recalls what he had said the day he came to pick Bambam up -- what he thought about Mark and Yugyeom's relationship, and feels slightly less confused about why Jaebum is pushing him so urgently. He must think that this isn't Mark's first time.
When Mark places his hands on Jaebum's chest and pushes him away gently, the betrayal in Jaebum's flashing eyes confirms this, but he doesn't say anything or make any accusations and Mark doesn't have a chance to clarify the misunderstanding. He's way too spineless to bring it up himself.
Jaebum is glaring at him with spurned desire in his eyes, looking as confused and messed up as Mark feels, but his hands fall from Mark's body back to his sides when Mark says quietly, shakily, "I'm not ready."
Mark can see the struggle in Jaebum's eyes, the impulse to throw out vicious and cutting words, but with an effort Jaebum regains control of his emotions. "It's okay," he says, voice low and gravelly, addressing Mark's dick directly. "We'll take it slowly," Jaebum says comfortingly, caressingly. There is none of the impatience in his eyes in the honeyed velvet of his words.
Jaebum touches his lips, skimming his fingertip over them, eyes dreamy and nostalgic like he's already reliving their kiss five minutes ago. Mark doesn't know why he looks so faraway when Mark is right in front of him, but then Jaebum takes his thumb off his lips and brings it without warning to Mark's, tracing Mark's swollen, moist and sensitized lips with utmost gentleness. A smile enters his eyes, as soft as the caress of a summer breeze.
"I'd... better go," Jaebum says, dropping his finger from Mark's mouth and tearing his gaze away with difficulty. "I don't want to force you into doing anything you feel uncomfortable with."
"Stay," Mark blurts out, driven by the startling stab of loneliness that pierces him at the thought of Jaebum leaving. "I mean --" he quickly stammers out damage control, "It's late, too dark to drive. You can stay the night."
Jaebum looks tempted for a moment, but shakes his head regretfully with a small smile. "I don't think I can control myself if I do."
Mark's eyes involuntarily flicker down to the crotch of Jaebum's sweatpants. Because of the colour and material, Jaebum's unabating erection is doubly obvious and Mark snaps his eyes away from the blatant evidence of Jaebum's desire for him, embarrassed. He's not used to his partner's physical want for him being so obvious and visible. He's used to the soft bodies of girls and their shy blushes and muffled whimpers underneath him. He's not accustomed to his partner taking the lead.
Jaebum catches the direction of his glance and colours too, but he looks less ashamed than defiant about his twisted need for Mark as his eyes seek Mark's challengingly. For someone heterosexual up till a few weeks ago, Jaebum seems to be embracing his homoerotic tendencies much more calmly than Mark.
When Mark doesn't say anything, Jaebum doesn't make any move towards him either, respecting his unconsent. Instead, his fingers stroke Mark's hair and graze the nape of his neck lightly as he bends to press a brief but searing kiss to Mark's forehead, too transient for Mark to savour it.
Then he is gone, his footsteps light as a cat's as he opens the bedroom door and steps into the puddle of light that momentarily falls into Mark's room. "Get some sleep," Jaebum throws over his shoulder quietly, his voice mildly apologetic in a way that makes Mark sense he feels sorry for how roughly he had handled Mark. "I'll call you tomorrow."
Then the door creaks closed and he doesn't hear Jaebum's footsteps but only his front door latching shut again a few minutes later. Mark presses a hand to his racing heart as his knees finally give out as they have threatened to all night and he sinks down weakly onto the edge of his bed.
part 3