Almost two and a half hours have passed, way beyond any amount of time that a mascot should have to stay for, and the boys are bouncing around the living room, ecstatic at the thought of cake (real circle white cake, with candles, Youngjae had proclaimed to the rest proudly) and the gifts that Jaebum had given them, a little blue mask held in place by an elastic band or a Velcro-strap cape for each boy, when Jaebum starts making his goodbyes in high-fives and fistbumps, and the boys press in around him at once, eager to get in one last word with him.
“You’re not staying for the cake?” Mark finds himself asking, as Jaebum waves a special goodbye to Youngjae, and the boy jumps excitedly on the spot, his cape flapping behind him, and Mark has to internally slap himself with the way his stomach does a flip-flop as Jaebum turns to look at him properly for the first time that afternoon. “I mean, you could grab a bite, or something-…”
“Nah, Jinyoung promised to treat me to grilled meat after this,” Jaebum grins, and Mark literally feels his legs go weak under him at the sight. Stop it, he tells himself sternly.
“Not even a drink? You were talking for ages,” Mark grabs a cup from the table, filling it from the pitcher of diluted punch, and Jaebum sighs gratefully.
“Oh, thanks man, I was parched,” he knocks half of it back at once, waving a final goodbye before he steps out, and Jinyoung catches all the boys’ attention magically as he flips on the television to show the latest episode of Transformers Animated. “Hey Mark, wanna talk outside?”
The reason why Mark stumbles is because of all the tiny pairs of shoes by the door, of course, and not at the sound of his name in Jaebum’s voice and wait a second-…
“How did you know my name again?”
Jaebum pauses for a second, before grinning and reaching up, and before Mark can ask what he’s doing, he’s tugging back the half mask, running a hand through and shaking his platinum-blonde dyed hair loose as he does so, and Mark swears he almost dies right then and there.
“Remember me?” Jaebum’s grin widens. “I know engineering students don’t run into the film arts kids much, but you were at the dance booth that time during orientation, weren’t you?”
“Christ, you work-…” Mark swears he’s about to combust. There’s no way the film arts student in the bboy branch of the dance group at his college, the one with the piercings and the silver hair and the hipster glasses, would come here as a mascot, of all things, to a kid’s birthday party. “I had no idea, holy-…”
“I know, I only started this job a few months ago,” Jaebum chuckles. “It’s easy money, you know, once you’ve got the shamelessness for it. Hence the mask,” he tugs at the bit of fabric behind him, and Mark exhales in a laugh. “So why are you here? You his brother, or something?”
“Nah, my cousin is his mom, and she’s uh, she’s getting the cake now, so-…” Mark finds it a little difficult to talk about it without revealing anything, so he changes the topic. “Thanks, by the way, for coming. I mean, how much did Jinyoung have to pay you after the discount?”
“Nothing, actually,” Jaebum chuckles, and Mark’s eyes widen. “I owed him for a couple of times in high school where he got my delinquent ass out of trouble, and he told me, you know, about Youngjae’s dad.”
Oh.
Jaebum must’ve noticed the way Mark stiffened, because he changes tact immediately.
“He didn’t tell me much, only that it would mean a lot if I did this for Youngjae,” he says, but Mark sends a peeved look over his shoulder at Jinyoung nonetheless. “But up to here I kinda gathered as much, for all the kids?”
“Yeah,” is all Mark can bring himself to say. It’s not like he’s one for talking, anyway, he usually leaves that to Jinyoung and Jackson, but Jaebum doesn’t seem to be ready to leave yet, instead taking another sip from his cup and looking contemplatively over.
“You know, just now, I asked Youngjae what his birthday wish was, after giving out the presents,” Jaebum says, and Mark looks at him, brow raised. “And he told me, you know, like it was a secret, he had two wishes- the first was that his mother would be happy,” Mark lets out a little breath of laughter here, that was only to be expected from a little angel like Youngjae.
“And his second wish was that you’d be happy too.”
Oh.
Mark looks up, eyes a little wider, before glancing back, a slight crease of surprise and confusion working its way into his brow as he watches Youngjae start to open his presents eagerly.
“So I was wondering, you know,” Jaebum continues, and Mark looks back to see a cautious curiosity on the other man’s face. “You seem awfully close to him, you know?”
“Uh, yeah. I usually pick him up from the daycare,” Mark replies shortly, hoping he doesn’t sound too stuff.
“His mom’s working?”
“Yeah,” Mark’s throat is tight, and he wonders if it’s showing. Jaebum nods once, before taking another sip.
“Thanks.”
Mark blinks. “What?”
“Coming around, you know, after college and stuff, to take care of him,” Jaebum starts, a little uncertainly. “I mean, the rest of us are complaining about not finding enough time to study and party and sleep or whatever, and you’re here taking care of a kid. It’s…noble.”
Mark coughs a little, grinning. “Noble.”
Jaebum shrugs, smile widening with the encouragement. “Film arts, remember?”
“It’s not, really, it’s just,” Mark scuffs his feet, glancing back in, as Youngjae lifts up one of his presents, a neat pair of trousers from one of the other boys, before pressing it against himself to see how it looks. “If I don’t, who else will, you know?”
Youngjae cheers after a few moments of silence between them, starting to tug the wrapping off a fire engine, and despite the inferior material or the tacky stickers on its surface there’s a collective sigh of envy.
“Hey,” Jaebum says, and Mark turns back questioningly, to see a strange sort of look on the other man’s face. “You know-…you dance, right?”
“Uh, yeah, martial arts tricking, until I dropped out,” Mark says slowly, wondering what he’s getting at. “Why?”
“You ever thought about getting a job? Like, at the park I work at?” Jaebum starts, and Mark blinks. The other man continues quickly, like he’s reading off a list. “Like, the pay’s incredible, really, for a few hours on peak weekends you get enough to pay off part of your tuition fees, and it’s not even that far off from the college, like forty minutes’ drive, at the most? And you can carpool with me and a couple of others that work there? You’ve already got the fac-…physical, uh, requirements, to start working there, so-…” Jaebum trails off uncertainly here, looking at him with what Mark would’ve immediately been able to identify as hope if he hadn’t been running the option over in his mind, faster and faster with every round, until it’s opening up in front of him like a stop motion film.
His parents had agreed to help out with his tuition fees but just imagine being able to pay off a bulk of it on his own with this on top of the money he’d saved from his other jobs, being able to start saving for a car, an apartment, buying enough snapbacks and video games to rival Jackson’s collection and finally getting to put his passion for tricking into something useful, all this on top of getting to know Jaebum more, and it seems like a dream come true, almost.
Until-…
“But who would take care of Youngjae, then?” Mark blurts.
The hope in Jaebum’s eyes dims to disappointment, for a moment, before it softens into something else.
“Yeah, didn’t think about that,” he admits, and Mark feels crushed for a second, before Jaebum speaks again.
“This is going to sound really weird,” he lets out a short breath of laughter, averting Mark’s eyes for a moment. “And I know we haven’t spoken since that time at the dance booth, but uh, do you want to, you know, exchange numbers?” Jaebum’s tone goes up at the last word, inflection hopeful once more in an irresistible way that contrasts sharply with the smirk Mark remembers seeing on his face, the piercings glinting up the lobe of his ear, and for once Mark thinks he starts to share that hope. “I mean I know you’ve got Jinyoung, and you’ve been managing things fine so far, but anytime you need help around college, or here with Youngjae, even, you can uh, you could always call me, you know?” the grin on his face stutters a little, betrayed by the honesty in his voice. “At least you know I can entertain him,” he laughs, but his eyes are still searching, still wondering.
Part of Mark tells him sternly that he doesn’t have time for this, doesn’t have time for someone else, not when he can’t even find time for himself on top of studies and taking care of Youngjae, but the gentle understanding in Jaebum’s eyes makes Mark wonder if he doesn’t have to fight to make another space in his life for him, if Jaebum’s willing to be a part of it.
“Yeah,” his heart’s pounding in his chest as he takes out his phone, undoing the lock he’d installed to keep Youngjae’s prying fingers out, before handing it over with a hesitant smile. “Thank you.”
*
Five months later finds Mark rushing up the stairs of the apartment building, checking his watch and cursing when he sees that it’s literally four hours since the time he told Jaebum he’d be there. He sweeps the mental images of Jinyoung sassing him about how any lawyer would consider this grounds for divorce, instead quickly working his hand into his wallet, pulling out his keys as he reaches the door.
Possibilities of everything that could have gone wrong are flashing through his head- Youngjae crying, Jaebum leaving for a shift whilst thinking that Mark would be back soon, or Jaebum being mad with him, and Mark thinks he’s about die from guilt as he hastily pushes open the door.
“I am so sorry, the project meeting got pushed back and my phone died and I’m going to get dinner right now-…” he pauses, as Youngjae stares owlishly up at him from the table, grains of rice sticking to the sides of his face, cheeks full of whatever it is he’s eating.
“Oh, hey Mark,” Jaebum’s calling from the kitchen, and Mark cranes his neck, frowning, to look over. “Jinyoung called me and I figured as much about your phone,” he’s leaning against the counter, now, a bowl of something in his hand, looking ridiculously attractive even (especially) in just a plain black tee and jeans, holding a wooden spoon in his other hand. “And Youngjae and I were kinda hungry, so I brought him grocery shopping over at the next block for a couple of things to throw together to eat.”
“Sausages!” Youngjae cheers, before going back to attacking his food in full force.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Jaebum asks, and Mark’s walking over, now, barely noticing as he drops his bag by the doorway. “I made enough for four, in case you were hungry too, and for Youngjae’s mom when she gets back-…”
Mark grabs him by the front of his shirt, dragging him further into the kitchen, ignoring the confused yells of careful there’s sauce here, before pulling him in for a kiss, one that Jaebum takes a moment to properly reciprocate.
(It’s not like Mark’s ever dared to do this with Youngjae, around, anyway.)
“Have I ever told you,” Mark’s breaths are shallow when they part, his head against Jaebum’s shoulder, swaying against him. “How much I love you.”
“Never enough,” Jaebum says, grinning, after a moment, and Mark shoves him, before wrapping his arms around his shoulders, as if to never let go.
All playfulness is eradicated, however, the moment Mark turns around and starts at the sight of Youngjae standing there, an empty bowl, complete with the Robocar Poli chopsticks and spoon that Mark had bought for his fourth birthday, eyes wide. Then-…
“Mark-hyung and Jaebum-hyung made kissy face!” he bursts out giggling, then, before walking over to the stove, as though nothing had happened, and tiptoeing to try to get himself a second helping from the pot.
Things return surprisingly fast to normalcy, then, and amidst warnings from Jaebum that Youngjae’s already had one bowl to himself, and pouty bargaining on Youngjae’s part to try and wheedle out just the sausages, please please please from Jaebum, Mark lets out a tiny, contented sigh, grabbing himself a bowl from the draining rack.
“Fine, but only one scoop, okay?” Mark takes Youngjae’s spoon, deliberately letting his shoulder bump into Jaebum’s chest at the younger man’s sighs of and you accuse me of spoiling him, and Youngjae cheers, holding up his bowl in anticipation, as he wonders how he’d ever made do without Jaebum before the birthday party.
“By the way,” Jaebum says, then, after Youngjae’s scuttled back to the table, leaning towards Mark with a grin, and Mark steps back instinctively, suspicious. “I love you too,” his head dips to steal the mouthful of rice off Mark’s spoon, then, before ducking out of the older man’s reach as he darts back out into the hall, asking Youngjae if he’s finished all his math homework, and Mark rolls his eyes, barely able to hold back a laugh.
Yep, he thinks fondly, walking leisurely out to watch Youngjae whine about math to Jaebum over the sound of the television playing reruns of Pororo, chewing a mouthful of the (surprisingly delicious) rice in his hand, all worries far from his mind.
No idea how he’s survived till now.