Chapter Text
A storm was brewing on a cold Thursday night, and as Mark took off his shoes at the door, he noticed that he had a guest.
Mark didn’t bother to greet the guest. Instead he called out, “Jinyoung, I thought we discussed this.”
Jinyoung popped his head out from the door to his room.
“There’s a storm,” Jinyoung replied. “Can’t you hear it? It’s dangerous for a boy to be out alone.”
Mark frowned. He looked back at the boy. A year younger than Mark, he was sitting cross-legged on Jinyoung’s favourite grey couch, eyes a warm brown and expression closely resembling a puppy. Mark had a soft spot for puppies. He bit his lip. The boy’s hair was soft and fluffy; he was dressed in a grey sweater and matching pants – clearly, Jinyoung had let their guest use the shower. Mark wasn’t surprised.
“His name is Jackson,” Jinyoung said. At the sound of his name, Jackson looked up. When he met Mark’s eyes, he seemed even more akin to a puppy. Mark knew that he would not refuse.
“I’m really sorry to intrude in your space,” Jackson sounded genuinely sorry. Mark’s heart shattered. Before he had even opened his mouth, it had been decided: their guest would stay the night. “My house is just a little far from here and I don’t have a car and Jinyoung and I were in the library so he offered to let me stay the night I promise I won’t get in the way or anything I’ll be quiet like a mouse you won’t even notice me I promise sir!”
Jinyoung laughed loudly.
“This isn’t any sir, it’s just Mark,” he said, gesturing towards older boy. Mark nodded in acknowledgement. The thunder roared and Jackson turned around, alarmed. From their tiny apartment, the storm seemed so much more aggressive, a direct force of nature acting on will rather than science alone. Outside the sun had gone long ago, and even enclosed within their home, the dark seemed to have claws – its voice producing thunder – and it screeched across the windows, demanding to be heard. Mark looked towards the fluttering blinds.
“Don’t enter my room,” He warned. Jackson frowned, but nodded – a response that satisfied the elder. “Jinyoung, keep an eye on him.”
“Yes sir,” Jinyoung rolled his eyes.
Mark walked into his room and slammed the door.
Mark tried to ignore the man trapped in glass, but he would not have it.
“I hear company,” the man purred.
Mark did not answer his companion, who sat cross-legged in a dome made solely of glass. He ignored the deep rumble of the creature, averted his eyes from the ink running across his arm as the boy stretched – a spell or a curse running deep in place of blood. The glass cage, despite extending over Mark’s entire wall, seemed too small to house the boy inside of it. But Mark paid it no heed. Instead he took off his jacket, peeling soaked socks off his damp feet. He hated this feeling – the rain was a major inconvenience. The boy in the glass looked on, intrigued by Mark’s actions. By this time, he was used to the creature trapped in glass.
Mark had been the one to trap him there after all.
He hadn’t really meant to keep him here, but as a poor college student, where else would he keep it? He certainly couldn’t leave him with his parents – they’d be, quite understandably, spooked – and he couldn’t dump the man anywhere – that would defeat the purpose of trapping him. Storing him away in a storage container was too suspicious, renting a separate property was impossible on his budget. So here Mark was, sharing his room with a glass cage containing what appeared to be a person.
Mark flung his cold, wet socks at the glass, and the boy laughed.
“You should clean up after yourself,” Jaebum said.
Mark rolled his eyes. He watched the creature mimic his position, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Jaebum leaned on his elbows.
“Who’s the company?” He asked. When Mark didn’t answer, he spoke louder. “Mark.”
He met the creature’s eyes, sharp and cold.
“Who’s the company?” Jaebum repeated.
Outside, Mark heard shuffling – the muffled voice of Jackson, followed by Jinyoung’s soothing replies. He scowled. This is why he didn’t like guests.
“Behave,” he warned the creature.
He began changing out of his damp clothes, ignoring the obvious stare of the creature. This too was a usual occurrence. It had annoyed him at first, but after a while, he’d gotten used to the creature’s interest in vexing him. Mark frowned. He wanted a shower. He put his damp clothes back on and began rummaging for some clean undergarments. When he found them, he passed the boy once again. The creature slowly held up a card, a smile dancing on his face. Mark recognised it easily – the two of spades.
“Where did you get that?” He snapped, walking closer to the glass like a moth drawn to light. The creature, amused, also leaned in.
Jaebum smiled. “Jinyoung gave it to me.” He waved the card. “It’s boring here. We used to play cards. Why don’t we anymore?”
Mark growled. He stared at the card, wishing to snatch it out of the other’s hands. Up close, Jaebum seemed to loom over him, the nasty ink eye on his wrist laughing at the human boy. Mark looked up at the creature, his eyes met by an enchanting smile.
“Jinyoung shouldn’t give you things,” he said, ignoring the creature’s question. “I’ll lock the door next time.”
Jaebum hummed.
“You taught me to play Big Two, do you remember?”
Mark’s eyes softened, if only for a moment. Jaebum’s voice sounded like a lullaby, a call from nostalgia too alluring to deny. For a moment, everything seemed so soft and he felt like he was seventeen falling in love in the arms of another. He looked at Jaebum – this time affectionately – and it was only when the other chuckled that Mark was taken out of his trance.
“You should just let me take you,” Jaebum suggested.
Mark snarled.
Jinyoung was offering Jackson some tea when Mark stomped out of his room. Jackson’s head shot up – an immediate reaction to the sound – and quietly his eyes followed the thin boy’s retreat into the bathroom, the door slamming loudly behind him. If Jinyoung’s lack of reaction was anything to go by, this was a frequent occurrence. Briefly, Jackson wondered whether Mark did anything other than scowl and stomp.
“Is Mark alright?” Jackson asked.
Jinyoung hummed. “Hm, Mark? Oh, he gets like that sometimes. Pay him no heed. Do you want a snack?”
Jackson shook his head, eyes still trained on the bathroom door. “Are you sure we shouldn’t check up on him?”
“Oh,” Jinyoung chuckled. “I’m sure. Is it cold? We can turn on the heater if you want.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Still, Jackson remained focused on the door. He could hear the sound of water rushing down – Mark was showering.
Jackson had never seen Mark until this day, but he sure had heard about him. For a boy of so few words, there seemed to be a lot of noise surrounding him. Girls thought he was cute. Guys, guys also seemed to think he was cute, endearing in his mild demeanour. He was enrolled in a few clubs – the chemistry club, for obvious reasons, a dance society, the martial arts society that Jackson joined. His name was there, but Jackson noticed that he never came. It was as if he’d enrolled in them as a first year, and long since abandoned them all. Around the university, people said he was quiet, a hard worker – seemed to mostly mind his own business. He only hung out with Jinyoung and Youngjae apparently – and even Youngjae he only hung out with for his dog.
Mark was an enigma Jackson thought he might be able to solve. A mystery conveniently placed in the coincidence of bad weather. Outside, lightning crackled, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. Jackson turned around to glance at Mark’s bedroom. The door was closed.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Jackson said, “But is there a reason Mark didn’t want me to enter his room?”
Jinyoung waved his hand.
“Oh, the usual,” he said, “Death, porn magazines, embarrassing murals of his crush – it’s all there.”
Jackson scoffed, a chuckle leaving his lips.
“Mark’s a private guy?”
Jinyoung smiled. “Sort of. What has you so curious about my roommate?”
Jackson shrugged.
“Dunno – maybe I wanted to meet the myth.”
Jinyoung laughed.
“Truthfully,” Jackson said, “No one’s ever demanded I stay out of their room and told their roommate to keep an eye on me. I’m kind of scared that you’re both crazy murderers keeping children in Mark’s room.”
“Maybe,” Jinyoung said in a tone that could not be taken without some doubt. He handed Jackson a cup of warm green tea.
Outside, the thunder rumbled. The glass and thin curtains separating their flat from the balcony seemed ineffective in containing them from the storm.
“The storm won’t let up soon.” Jinyoung spoke as if this was definite. Judging from the sudden flashes of lightning, Jackson didn’t think he was too far off.
“I hope you and Mark don’t mind,” Jackson mused. “Me staying over, I mean.”
“I’m fine,” Jinyoung reassured. “Mark – Mark will live.”
Jackson smiled. “I hope so.”
Jinyoung tossed him the remote. “Anything you want to watch?”
They settled on a Thursday night movie, the kind of old, B-movie people watched out of nostalgia than interest. Saturated, fuzzy images from childhood flashed across the screen, tea travelling warmly down his throat as he thought about being nine again, feeling less but somehow more, away from all the stresses that came with growing up and moving on. The camera panned to a kind character menacingly, foreshadowing a betrayal they all saw coming, and when Jinyoung wasn’t looking Jackson snuck a look at Mark’s closed door. When the movie crept to its climax and Mark finished his shower, the apartment seemed to close to a silence, and in the silence Jackson was certain he heard someone sing.
“Stop that.”
The creature looked up smugly, an eyebrow raised as he rested behind the glass. The pack of cards he had been holding were not on the floor outside of the barrier – a peace offering, Mark suspected, but he would not fall for it. He was no longer seventeen and directionless anymore. He did not fall that easily.
Jaebum looked at him innocently. “Stop what?”
“Humming,” Mark hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
Jaebum chuckled. “What am I doing, Mark?”
Mark shot him a warning glare, but did not reply. The creature was undeterred; snickering when Mark’s back was turned. Jaebum ran a hand through his hair, shamelessly ogling his captor from the glass. A smirk found its home on his lips.
“Do you want to say something?” Mark sighed. It was a dare.
“Spades Two,” Jaebum said. His voice was low and sweet like honey, and maybe seventeen-year-old Mark might’ve had to catch his breath, twenty-one-year-old Mark was a little over the charm of his creature. “It’s the highest card in Big Two, isn’t it? As soon as you have it, you know that you’ll win any one-card round that you want.”
Mark shook his head. There was something menacing about Jaebum’s discussion of the rules of Big Two – like he was dancing over a hidden meaning Mark would never get.
“Four of a kind trumps everything,” Mark said. He humoured him nevertheless.
“Ah,” Jaebum smiled. “Why do they call it Big Two then?”
“Because the probability of getting four of a kind is extremely rare,” Mark replied dryly. He didn’t understand where Jaebum wanted to go with this conversation. “Unless your cards are badly shuffled. At least you always know someone will have the two of spades.”
Jaebum hummed. He knew all of this. Mark had taught him how to play when they were seventeen. And he had been very good at it – Jaebum, that is, after he’d gotten the hang of the game, and let the cards flutter in his favour. Tentative hands pressed against the glass and Mark watched as Jaebum leaned in, his forehead touching the glass as if he knew Mark would follow.
Jaebum tilted his head, a small, confident smile on his lips. It looked so inviting. On his best days, Mark saw him as nothing more than a dark spark from the past. At his worst, Mark saw Jaebum as comfort, as a solution to the hole he seemed to be in.
The creature’s expression was so beckoning, so kind that like clockwork Mark found himself aligning his hands with Jaebum, forehead pressed against the cool glass as if it was Jaebum himself. The creature chuckled.
“Let me out, Mark,” he purred. “If you do, we can go back to how we were.”
Mark closed his eyes, and as he always did, he considered it. Briefly, emotionlessly, filling his mind with the warmth of someone engulfing him, wrapping him in a permanent blanket that he’d never have to leave. He could imagine Sunday mornings, waking up at noon, eating bacon and pancakes and falling asleep on the couch. Jaebum huffed and Mark thought he could feel the latter’s warm breath tickle his ear.
“I love you Mark,” the creature confessed. Without looking, Mark knew that he was pleased. “I want nothing but you.”
Mark sighed.
“You have me,” he replied.
Jaebum shook his head.
“This isn’t enough,” the creature said lowly. It was almost wistful. “I want to hold you, I want to be able to touch you. I want to do all the things we used to do.”
Mark hummed, and the creature began to sing.
“Lower the barrier,” he sang, low and sweet, filled with depth Mark wasn’t sure that he had. “Let me out, won’t you?”
Jaebum’s fingers curled.
“I promise I’ll make everything go back to the way it was,” he smiled. “I can make you happy, Mark.”
The words repeated in his head, this time devoid of Jaebum’s charm.
I can make you happy, Mark.
It was a taunt, one they knew too well.
Mark’s eyes widened, and immediately he moved away from the glass. His eyes, once soft, seemed to harden again like sharp glass. His slender fingers curled into fists, now angrily fuming at the glass. Jaebum looked on, amused.
“The only thing that will make me happy,” Mark growled, “Is you staying in the glass.”
Jaebum laughed, watching the boy turn away.
“You want me,” he purred. “You love me too much. Maybe not today, but one day you will falter and let me go. And then I’ll have you once again.”
Mark flipped him off.
“You love me,” the creature sang, homely and comforting, like a whisper from a fond memory. In a way, he was. “You’ll always love me. And you’ll always be mine.”
Mark would much rather eat alone in Jinyoung’s room, but the latter was having none of it. He’d bought some meat from the supermarket before the storm and was stir-frying it as he ordered Mark to set up the table. Jackson was helping stir the soup. Outside, the thunder and lightning had subsided, instead giving way to vicious rain. It was loud and not even the sound of their portable heater could drown out the storm.
“So Mark,” it was Jackson who spoke. “Are you a chemistry major?”
Jinyoung glared at Mark, as if he thought Mark was rude enough to ignore their guest. He wasn’t, not yet.
“I am,” Mark nodded.
“Cool!” Jackson exclaimed. Truthfully, he already knew that. He was just trying to clear the air. “I’m a biology major.”
“I’m studying psychology,” Jinyoung offered. “We’re all sort of in the same field.”
Mark nodded, offering no reply. If Jackson was a puppy, his tail would droop. Mark had a terrible affinity for dogs.
“Have you taken any chemistry classes?” Mark asked Jackson. “Or do you just do biology?”
“I’ve taken one!” Jackson said. He grinned. “It went a bit over my head though. All this quantum and classical nonsense, I just don’t understand how things can make so much sense on a large scale, and be so difficult when you zoom in!”
Jinyoung laughed good-naturedly. Mark placed placemats on their small dining table. Out of habit, he nearly set the table for four.
“Atoms are kind of like people,” he said absently. Jackson turned around. “They’re easy to predict in masses, like in classical chemistry. You can predict a society’s response to floods, to a sudden loss of resources, to a falling economy and to mass murder. But on a smaller scale, individually, people are quite hard to predict. We don’t quite understand what they think all the time, like how we don’t really know how electrons move and where they are at every moment. It’s like the Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle of people.”
The two had gotten quiet, and Mark could feel a flush rising.
“That’s the most you’ll ever hear him talk,” Jinyoung told Jackson. “All you’ll hear him ever say, and it’s just about chemistry.”
Mark scowled. He stomped back into the kitchen, hurling the first drawer open to grab utensils. Once he’d grabbed what he needed, he slammed the drawer shut.
“That makes sense,” Jackson said, his voice quiet and sincere against the storm. Mark faltered, if only for a moment, before he continued distributing chopsticks and spoons. “It’s kind of like biological populations, like when we monitor genetic drift, right? We can predict what will happen to a population, but not to the individual.”
He laughed.
“Atoms really do make up everything, don’t they?” He smiled.
Jinyoung smiled good-naturedly, and Mark nodded. They began bringing out food onto the table.
“So Jackson,” Jinyoung asked. “What made you want to study biology?”
Jackson balanced two bowls of meat and soup between his hands, the latter filled to the brim. It was a tough act.
“Hm,” Jackson pondered. “I’ve always liked how…chaotic biology is, for a lack of a better word. We think that maths and science are the most logical subjects to the study, but they’re really just as messy as English or philosophy. In biology right, every time we discover an answer, we end up with more questions. It just always intrigues me, how the more you know, the less you seem to, you know?”
“A photograph,” Jinyoung recited, “Is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know. That’s what Diane Arbus said.”
Jackson laughed.
“Yeah,” he said, “Kind of like that.” He turned around to face Mark, almost spilling the soup in the process. “What about you, Mark? What made you want to study chemistry?”
Mark took the bowl of meat from Jackson, shooing the other back to grab the bowls of rice in Jinyoung’s hands.
“Nothing special,” he said. “I just liked chemistry, that’s all. It all made sense to me. It seemed so intuitive.”
“He has a periodic table taped up on his wall,” Jinyoung said cheekily.
Mark scowled.
“I do not!” He hissed. “Stop spreading lies about me.”
Jackson didn’t seem to hear him.
“I heard you perform experiments in your bathroom,” he said. “Someone said you once destroyed the whole bathroom and you and Jinyoung showered in the dorm next door for the next week.”
Mark flushed.
“That never happened!” He said vehemently. Jinyoung grinned, but didn’t come to his support. Mark could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “Who’s spreading these rumours? I’ll kill them.”
Jinyoung laughed. He brought out a bowl of stir-fried vegetables.
“That’s what you get for being a hermit,” he said. “All anyone knows about you is that you like chemistry. Mad student scientist is obviously what follows.”
Mark seemed to growl. Jackson grinned, arms wrapping around the elder almost naturally.
“It’s alright!” He said cheerfully. “Everyone thinks you’re super cool.”
Like a dog, Jackson began sniffing his neck. He seemed to know no bounds.
“Oh, you smell nice!” He exclaimed. “What kind of body wash do you use?”
Jinyoung seemed amused. “What does Mark smell like?” Before Mark could object, Jinyoung was on his other side, invading his personal space as he also started to sniff the eldest. Mark groaned.
“Cinnamon,” Jackson said thoughtfully. “Cinnamon, nutmeg and syrup.”
“Like baking,” Jinyoung agreed. “Too bad he can’t cook for shit.”
Mark rolled his eyes.
“Get off me,” he demanded, “Both of you.”
They smiled, Jackson looking hopeful, and Mark didn’t have the heart to say anything more. Instead they settled down at the small table and began eating. Jinyoung and Jackson carried conversation well, and eventually even Mark was laughing at whatever silly story they’d started to tell. Jackson had a way of commanding attention, and a sort of liveliness that demanded all of Mark’s attention. He drew him away from his fears of the future, from the memories of his past, and for short bursts, Mark was completely in the present. Completely next to Jackson and Jinyoung, enjoying a warm meal as the rain pattered on their rooftop. Jinyoung talked about his day. Jackson talked about his job, his annoying lab partner, the worst coffee he’d ever tasted – and all while Mark pretended that he had not trapped a boy in glass.
They cleared the table and made way for dessert, something they didn’t often have. Jackson had bought a cake to celebrate the end of finals – he’d intended to celebrate with his roommates, except the storm had come before he could reach the dorms. He insisted they have it.
“It won’t be good by the time I get back,” he said. “Besides, the cake would’ve lost all meaning.”
Jinyoung cut three fat slices and Mark looked for whatever alcohol they had in the house.
“To the storm,” Jackson laughed. He was giggly and he hadn’t even sipped the wine.
Mark sat cross-legged on at the table, cake in his hand and cup mostly untouched. Jackson was louder when the alcohol settled in, boisterous and lovely in his declarations of love. He loved them for letting him stay, he loved how sweet the cake seemed to taste, how full he seemed to feel. Jinyoung smiled good-naturedly, taking sips when appropriate. Jinyoung could handle his alcohol, more than any person should. He drowned as much as Jackson – with more control, and yet somehow just as freely. They finished their slices and Jackson tried to eat the whole cake, Jinyoung watching on, amused.
“Shouldn’t you stop him?” Mark had barely touched his second glass. Jackson was diving into the cake, unashamed.
Jinyoung waved his hand, looking on fondly. “Who’s he hurting?”
Mark couldn’t answer this. Instead he let Jackson throw up in their bathroom, dance around the house singing his own song, allowed their guest to take photos on his phone, write ‘I love you’ on empty plates using icing from the cake. Mark regretted letting him ruin the cake. It was a really nice cake, and Mark would’ve liked to eat more.
He wasn’t sure how, but somehow in the middle of Jinyoung offering to clean up, he ended up with Jackson on the couch, another mindless movie playing. Jackson reached over him to grab the remote, hands brushing against Mark’s stomach as he turned up the volume. When Mark shivered, Jackson looked up with hooded eyes.
“You’re pretty,” Jackson told him, eyeing him shamelessly. There was nothing sexual, or romantic about it. It sounded like a confession from a friend rather than anything else. Mark couldn’t remember how it felt to be complimented with platonic intentions. “I remember seeing you around uni and thinking wow, what a beautiful boy.”
Mark nodded. He didn’t really have much to say.
“Has anyone told you that you’re like an idol?” Jackson asked. Mark shook his head. The latter laughed, leaning in so Mark could smell the alcohol in his breath. “You’re such an idol. Perfect for ogling, and so pretty as well! I want to hug you when I sleep.”
Jackson’s stared at his face, expression sweet and lazy, like a little boy looking at his big brother. He squealed.
“I love you hyung!” He screamed into Mark’s chest, squeezing him tightly.
Jinyoung poked his head out from the kitchen, watching the two in amusement.
“People always return to where they belong,” he remarked. Jackson, if he was listening, wouldn’t consider his words seriously. “Don’t they, Mark?”
Mark wasn’t allowed to respond. In place of his voice was a low growl, one deep and unexpected from the cartoon on television about princesses attending school and dealing with mean, bossy blondes. Jackson laughed into Mark’s chest and the growling grew louder.
“This show is so good!” Jackson praised. “I like how dynamic it is…how surprising! I never knew a princess could growl.”
He laughed at his own joke.
“I love it!” He cried. Mark looked at Jinyoung sceptically. “I love it so much!”
The scene changed, and the growling remained persistent, but Jackson didn’t seem to mind. He seemed happy in his own little world, lying on top of Mark with his body pressed as close as he could get. Jinyoung walked over and threaded his fingers through Jackson’s hair.
“This was a bad decision,” Mark told him.
Jinyoung looked over at Jackson affectionately.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he murmured. “He came to me.”
Mark’s lips rose, and then fell. The growling became louder, and Mark was certain that if someone did not tame his beast, the floor would start vibrating.
“Whatever,” he said. “I need to switch – swap with me?”
“You don’t have to ask,” Jinyoung said. He draped Jackson’s arms around himself, forcing the stranger to cling to his body like a koala. Mark stretched his limbs, awaking them from their sleepy, still state, and eyed the closed door of his room.
“We’re lucky he’s drunk,” Mark said.
He twisted the knob and let himself in. In the dark of the night, only rustling and the low grumble revealed the creature rooming in his home. Mark flipped on the switch and met Jaebum’s eyes carefully. The latter did not need to adjust to the light.
“Behave yourself,” Mark warned.
Jaebum blinked.
“I am not the one cuddling with other people’s property,” he replied. It sounded plausible, coming from his lips.
Mark scowled, searching for a phone charger. His phone was about to die.
“I don’t like other people touching what’s mine,” Jaebum continued. Mark could feel the holes being bored into his figure, dark vines ready to pluck his spine from his body and play it as one would strum strings. Jaebum had a terrible affinity for music.
“You,” Mark said slowly, “are not in a position to make orders.”
Jaebum raised an eyebrow. He seemed arrogant, even from the glass.
“But I’m not wrong, am I?”
Mark rolled his eyes.
“Atoms and cells cannot belong to anyone but the universe,” he said mildly. The creature snickered.
“Ah, this is what you have been learning?” His tone was kind yet somehow mocking, as if, Mark feared, he was laughing at the human. “You study chemistry. I can hear, love. I hear everything you say.”
“You should’ve known that already,” Mark retorted.
Jaebum smiled.
“I liked sitting in your classes.” He agreed. Mark suspected that this was a lie. “I liked looking at you more.”
He rolled his eyes.
“No more sounds,” he warned.
Jaebum shrugged. The creature’s eyes followed Mark as he rummaged through the mess of his bed, tangles of earphones and headphones providing false hope as he pawed for his charger.
“Your company smells familiar,” Jaebum said. Mark stiffened, but did not reply. The creature smirked. “Has your human friend returned?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” he lied. “I have lots of human friends.”
“Ah,” the creature tilted his head, emitted a low, pleased purr. If Mark wanted to play, Jaebum would indulge him. “But none quite as familiar as the boy from Hong Kong.”
Mark did not answer, and that was enough confirmation. The creature appeared amused.
“Classical and quantum chemistry cannot explain coincidences,” Jaebum mocked. “How would the chemistry major explain this?”
“Probability,” Mark shot back, “Unlikely, but not impossible.”
“Some things appear too coincidental to be chalked up to probability,” Jaebum laughed. His voice sounded like wind chimes, and Mark hated to admit it, but he couldn’t quite understand how the four of them ended up back in the same apartment as the storm raged on. There was some truth in the creature – some things seemed too strange to be a mere chance of luck.
“What will happen next?” The creature mused.
Mark looked back sceptically. “I could ask you the same question.”
The creature laughed. His voice was like a melody woven into the night. The thunder was starting up again, the rain was heavier, and Mark had doubts that the storm would disappear by morning. He found his phone charger and shut the door.
It was perhaps the rain that Jackson could blame. The overstimulation of being around two enigmas who seemed to bleed into his dreams the way they snuck into rumours. The two boys living together – friendly, mysterious Park Jinyoung and his roommate, the quiet chemistry major Mark – who seemed to be a part of a world Jackson didn’t fully understand. They all lived in the same world, breathed the same air, watched the same chemical reactions sustain life as they had when the world had become aerobic, but somehow Mark and Jinyoung’s world seemed different to Jackson’s. The storm seemed so much more intense from their apartment. Jackson felt suffocated in his dream, simultaneously drawn and repulsed by the ocean that steadily rose in his mind.
He didn’t quite understand it, waking up at eleven the next morning, his head sluggish but not throbbing – Jackson was easily affected by alcohol, but he was rarely ever hungover. When he tried to swing his feet off the couch, he hit the warm legs of someone else and found Jinyoung at his feet. His eyebrows furrowed. Even drinking seemed different around the two – no kisses, no messy tongue, only dancing and strange movies and waking up on the couch with sore feet and a melody playing in his head. Jackson tiptoed around the body on the floor. Outside, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.
Mark was not up yet. His door was closed and the slender boy was nowhere to be seen – not in the bathroom, or the kitchen, or the strange storage closet which seemed to be locked. Jackson ached to brush his teeth. He unlocked his phone and found himself sighing when he realised it was running on one percent. He needed a charger.
With nothing to do, he carried Jinyoung back into his bed and searched around for a phone charger. Two college boys, if they did not have food, would always have spare chargers. He found one at the foot of Jinyoung’s bed and situated himself there. As soon as his phone showed signs of being comfortably charged, he started reading his messages.
YOUNGjae: hyung don’t come back lmao
YOUNGjae: not because I don’t love u
YOUNGjae: like we don’t but
YOUNGjae: but because
YOUNGjae: like
YOUNGjae: well remember how we forgot to fix all the things in the dorm?
YOUNGjae: ya well guess what!!!
YOUNGjae: we got flooded!!!!
YOUNGjae: haha actually not that funny
YOUNGjae: but like i’m going to get it fixed as soon as the storm stops
YOUNGjae: so like lmao don’t come back no one will be there and the place is half a metre deep in water
YOUNGjae: I’m staying at bam’s if u need me
YOUNGjae: don’t come
YOUNGjae: you always use up all the hot water
Jackson groaned, loud enough to stir Jinyoung from whatever sleep he was trying to hold onto. The latter looked up sleepily.
“Jackson,” he said. “You’re up early.”
Jackson looked sheepish, and Jinyoung blinked away his drowsiness, meeting Jackson’s eyes with his expectant ones.
“Is something wrong?”
They were at something between breakfast and lunch, Mark making some instant coffee, when Jinyoung declared that Jackson would be staying with them until his apartment was dry.
Mark frowned at sachet dissolving in his cup. He did not dare to look at Jackson, afraid that he would be met with the droopiest puppy and all his anger would dissipate. He didn’t need to – Jackson was already apologetic.
“I’ll buy all groceries for a week,” he said, “I promise! Look, I’ll give you my card and you can buy whatever you want – even lobster, I don’t care. Please don’t kick me out!”
Jinyoung huffed in amusement and Mark knew then that he would not win this battle. He scoffed.
“I’m buying expensive meat,” he said stiffly, tongue almost burnt on his cruddy coffee. Jackson smiled.
“Yes! Of course!” He smiled. “Do whatever you want. Thank you!”
Mark didn’t reply. Instead he grabbed a piece of buttered toast and began chewing, his coffee abandoned at the kitchen to cool. He thought he could hear a melody – the faint sound of a chuckle – but to acknowledge it would be to explain everything to Jackson, and Mark was not prepared to do that. He finished off his breakfast, grabbed an umbrella and his raincoat, and went to buy groceries. By now the rain had slowed into a drizzle, and by the end of the day, Mark suspected it would be clear.
“Keep an eye on him,” he told Jinyoung, motioning to the boy on his phone. “Don’t let him near my room.”
Jinyoung didn’t plan to let Jackson out of his sight. Jackson’s phone finished charging after they’d cleared up their mess and they both ended up on the couch, a cartoon playing in the background as they scrolled through their feeds. On their small television, the ocean whispered and washed over the main characters kindly. Jinyoung wondered if the latter would notice the way his eyes glanced fondly over at the animated water.
“We should visit the ocean sometime,” Jackson murmured. Jinyoung raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the quickening of his heartbeat.
“Pardon?” He said, despite the fact that he had heard the other quite clearly.
Jackson seemed startled. It was as if he had been unaware of his musings.
“Oh,” he looked down at his phone bashfully. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”
Jinyoung smiled. Despite himself, and despite Mark’s warnings, he said, “The ocean is a nice place to go.”
Jackson grinned.
“Isn’t it?” He said. “I love the ocean. Something about it seems very familiar.”
His eyes traced the outlines of waves on their screen.
“You know, they hypothesise that life as we know it originated in the ocean,” he mused. “We don’t exactly know how life began, but we do now that we all came from the ocean. Everything – our bodies, our physiology, our behaviour – it all came from the ocean. I think that’s why it seems so much like home.”
He laughed.
“This is going to sound so weird,” Jackson said, “But whenever I go to the ocean, I feel like I lost my love there.”
When Jinyoung didn’t reply, he chuckled.
“It sounds so weird, doesn’t it?” Jackson asked. “But some places just have certain feelings, you know? Like you go there, and you go into this weird, intermediate place where you feel different. It’s like when you hear a song from your childhood, and you can feel how you felt back then. Every time I look at the ocean – and I know this is super weird – but I feel like I was there, once. I mean we all were, but the feeling’s just so strong, you know? We start from the ocean, and hopefully, we can all return to the ocean.”
Jinyoung smiled. He was about to reply when his phone rang, loud and demanding. Jinyoung wanted to silence it, to ignore the call and hear about Jackson’s thoughts on the ocean, but it continued to ring. He sighed.
“Hello?”
He moved out of the room to take the call. Jackson hummed, moving his attention back to the television. Had he scared Jinyoung off? He didn’t think he would. Both Jinyoung and Mark seemed so otherworldly that Jackson doubted his thoughts on the sea would’ve disturbed either of them. He could never tell. He tried to focus on the television again, force himself to be immersed in the story of two children finding a beautiful mermaid at their local beach, but somehow, he seemed to be drawn to something new. Something just as enchanting as a fantasy child’s cartoon, but this time in real life. Mark’s door was closed, but life seemed to bubble out of it. Jackson couldn’t be certain, but he was sure that there was something hiding beyond the door.
Jinyoung returned to the living room before Jackson could ponder over the mystery. He looked apologetic.
“Last night’s storm seems to have flooded the carpark,” Jinyoung explained. “My car and Mark’s might’ve been affected, there’s someone down there, so I’m going to go down and take a look. I might need you to look around for some of our registration details to get insurance covered and whatnot. Do you mind staying up here?”
He shook his head.
“I’d bring them all down myself,” he said, “But I’m not quite sure how bad the flood is down there, and I really don’t want to lose our insurance papers. You don’t mind, do you?”
Jackson shook his head. “Of course not!” He laughed. “I’m the one being the intruder, after all. You can ask me to do anything.”
Jinyoung smiled.
“Thanks,” he said. He was already rummaging for his keys. “Look, usually I would wait ‘til Mark gets back, but I’m not sure that the man there will wait that long. I won’t take too much time – just keep your phone on you, please?”
Jackson nodded, and Jinyoung left their apartment with a small click. He went back to the couch, this time fully aware that exploring Mark’s room was a possibility. He shook his head at first – determined to be a respectful guest and not betray the trust of his hosts – but the door seemed to stare down at him, mock him. He wanted to know what was behind the door; he wanted to know desperately because he was certain that there was something else behind the door. Maybe there was a dog with green eyes – Mark may have disputed all the crazy scientist rumours, but Jackson still had hope the boy had created a cat-dog hybrid. Maybe Mark was testing on rabbits. It didn’t matter.
The door stood there, unyielding, but with possibility. Jackson could try the door, couldn’t he? If it was locked, he’d never know. If it wasn’t, he could.
Jackson stared at the television, trying desperately to immerse himself in the cartoon. It was fruitless. Once his mind had considered the door, it refused to let go. It was like a persistent child, grabbing onto the sleeve of Jackson’s consciousness, demanding that he go and see. What if Mark was doing something dangerous? Something immoral? The clock above their dining table continued to click. He was running out of time. Jinyoung would be back soon. If he wanted to soothe his curiosity, he would have to act now.
Jackson jumped off the couch, racing towards Mark’s door. He hesitated in front of it, fingers curling around the knob. Jackson twisted the handle, and immediately he was let in.
He didn’t enter immediately. Not at first – he tried to survey the room, understand what was so secretive that Mark had demanded he not enter. It didn’t take long. To his left, there was a large glass panel – one similar to those used to keep precious crowns in museums. It took up the whole wall and was no more than a metre wide. But this was not the strangest part. Inside the cage held one of the most peculiar things – inside Mark’s room was a boy held between glass, trapped like an animal in a zoo.
The boy looked around Jackson’s age. He sat with his back against the wall, long legs sprayed with his eyes closed. He looked like hopeless in his position, hair pushed back and expression pained. At the presence of Jackson he flinched, afraid. Jackson could hardly believe his eyes. Mark had been hiding a boy all along.
“Please don’t hurt me,” the boy croaked. His voice was rough, as if it had not been used for a number of weeks. Jackson’s eyes flashed with both pity and confusion.
“Who are you?” He asked slowly. The boy tugged on the hem of his shirt, expression pained. Sharp, feline eyes ran up and down his body, as if scanning Jackson for threats. The boy didn’t answer, so Jackson asked. “Why are you here?”
The boy laughed cruelly. It was a dry laugh. The boy needed something to drink.
“He trapped me in here,” the boy scoffed. Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Who? Mark?”
The boy hissed.
“The one with blonde hair,” he scowled. “I would not love him, so he trapped me in the glass.”
That didn’t sound like Mark, but Jackson had only known Mark for a matter of hours. This boy, on the other hand, looked like he’d known Mark for months. Jackson wondered whether Jinyoung knew about this, whether they were both in on this. His heart ached for the boy trapped in the glass, his expression pitiful as the boy closed his eyes once again.
“I’ll get you out,” Jackson said softly. The boy looked up, hopeful. “Mark and Jinyoung aren’t home right now, but they’ll be home soon. You will have to leave quickly.”
The boy nodded. “I can do that.”
Jackson smiled.
“Good,” he paced around, observing the glass panel from every end. Truthfully, he had no idea how to free the boy. The glass looked like an extension of the wall, covering the room from the ceiling to the floor with airtight seals – how did the boy manage to breathe? “Now, how to break the glass…”
The boy shook his head. “You do not need to. He keeps a remote locked in the third drawer next to his bed. The glass is impenetrable, but it can be removed.”
Jackson followed his instructions, bringing himself to the side-table next to Mark’s bed. Like everything else concerning the two boys, it looked like it was made for a fairy-tale rather than a college boy’s room – an intricately carved piece of furniture with brass handles that curved like calligraphy. In the third drawer, true to the boy’s word, was a tiny golden safe locked by a 6-digit combination code. He held it up and showed the boy in the glass, watching him scoff.
“The code should be one-five-oh-two-one-three,” the boy said.
Jackson tried it, and to his surprise, the safe clicked open. Instantaneously, Jackson was flooded with the sensation of waves rushing over his feet, moonlight dancing on his skin as a pearl emerged from what appeared to be a gaping mouth. It was as if he was dreaming consciously, his heart hammering with some sort of demand. He didn’t have time for this. Jackson shook away the sensation and looked back at the boy in the glass.
“How did you know?” He asked.
The boy smiled sadly. When he blinked, Jackson took notice of two twin moles near one of his eyes.
“That was the day we met.”
“Ah.” Jackson took out the only object contained in the safe – something that resembled an old lock, stars and constellations etched into its exterior carefully. The rain continued to patter down at the windows and the boy looked out wistfully, willing himself to once again feel the rain under his fingers.
“Press the lock against the left corner of the glass,” the boy told him. Jackson was confused, walking towards the corner. The glass was smooth and the lock had no place, yet just as Jackson was about to object, the lock seemed to click onto the glass like a magnet. Jackson watched, amazed as the lock began to configure itself, lowering the glass barriers.
The glass barriers opened, and a sudden thrust of dread seemed to occupy his body. Jackson wasn’t sure what had caused the change of heart, but he didn’t want to wait. His eyes, which had once pitied the boy behind the glass, seemed to falter and were replaced with a fear he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t understand what had changed. When the glass barrier lowered, the boy no longer seemed as fearful – he was no longer as helpless and desolate as he had seemed behind them. Jackson had a bad feeling that he’d made a mistake, but it was too late. The boy smiled, and this smile was not tinged with sadness or gratitude. Instead it seemed to mock him.
“Thank you,” the boy grinned, revealing a set of teeth too sharp to be human. Jackson tried to reach for the lock, pull it away from the glass so that he could contain the boy once again – out of fear, really, rather than understanding – but the boy stepped in his way, pushing Jackson back until he was against the wall.
The boy wore a mild expression on his face, but his grip was tight and Jackson knew tight because he was stronger than he looked and his body was not just for show. He leaned in and Jackson closed his eyes and braced himself for something dangerous, something lewd, but all he heard was a voice purr into his ear.
“Tell Mark I still love him.”
And the boy once trapped in glass sauntered out the door.
Jinyoung knew something was wrong when he tried to call Jackson, and the latter didn’t answer. Actually, he knew something was wrong from the moment he left Jackson alone in their apartment. Mark was right – he shouldn’t have left Jackson alone in the apartment. But Jinyoung knew Jackson, or he had known Jackson, and really, what could fifteen minutes do? A lot, it seemed. Jinyoung apologised to the worker inspecting the floods, got his e-mail to send over all their registration and papers, and ran back up to their apartment. By the time he’d gotten back up to the seventh floor, Mark had returned. He looked at Jinyoung in surprise.
“Why are you running?” His eyes narrowed, shifting his weight. His hands were empty – Mark probably forgot something at their apartment. “Why are you not in the house? Where’s Jackson?”
Jinyoung didn’t reply. Instead he began unlocking the door. Mark’s suspicions rose.
“Did you leave Jackson alone in the house?” He demanded.
Jinyoung pushed open the door. His response was an answer enough. Mark scowled.
“I told you not to let him out of your sight,” he hissed. “I told you to not let him stay.”
Jinyoung looked back pitifully, and Mark couldn’t yell. Instead he called out for Jackson. Jinyoung joined in, the two of them moving towards Mark’s room. The door was open.
“Jackson!” Jinyoung exclaimed. He grabbed the boy, shaking him violently. “Are you alright?”
Jackson looked dazed. His eyes flew from Jinyoung to Mark, and then back to his hands. He looked down in guilt and if Jackson had puppy ears, they would’ve drooped.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gone into your room.”
Mark’s eyes moved to the empty space where he’d once trapped Jaebum. The glass had disappeared and so had the lock – Jaebum had taken it with him, Mark noted. He frowned, but didn’t speak. He didn’t trust himself to say something that he wouldn’t regret. Instead, Jinyoung held the stranger in his arms.
“Where did Jaebum go?” He asked Jackson. When Jackson looked at him in confusion, he clarified. “The boy, the boy stuck in the glass. When you released him, where did he go?”
Jackson furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know,” he stammered. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let him out. He lied to me – he told me you trapped him there because he didn’t love you back.”
Jackson looked at Mark when he said this, and Mark felt his heartstrings tug. He couldn’t look at Jackson with anything but apathy, a coldness resting in his bones that Jaebum had harboured, had grown just for him.
“Where did he go?” Jinyoung repeated. Calmly, because it had not been Jinyoung who’d risked it all to trap the creature in the glass. “When you released him, where did he go?”
Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to remember. All he could recall was Jaebum releasing him, laughter dancing on his lips as Jackson heard the door open, then lock once again. He knew nothing – not of whether Jaebum stayed in the building, whether he left the building, or anything that he’d chosen to do. He shook his head.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, “I have no idea.”
“Did he say anything to you?” It was Mark who asked this. Jackson’s eyes flitted back to the older male, watching how he ran a hand through his hair in agitation and anxiety. He sounded worn, almost like the trapped boy when he’d first met Jackson. “When you let him go, did he say anything? Anything at all?”
He sounded desperate when he spoke. A part of Jackson yearned to comfort him, to hold him close, but he knew that he was the source of Mark’s discomfort. Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.
“He said…” He raked his mind for the memory. “He said, ‘Tell Mark I still love him.’ And then he laughed and left.”
Mark’s face turned into a look of distain. Jinyoung held Jackson tighter as he watched Mark’s fists curl, his lips trembling and his heart seemed to swirl. If the heart was a garden Mark was growing both love and hate, disgust and affection – he wanted Jaebum to hold him as much as he wanted him to leave him. He hated not just Jinyoung for leaving Jackson alone, and Jackson for letting Jaebum go, but himself for loving Jaebum. He couldn’t take this part of himself, the part that wanted Jaebum to love him, that loved how Jaebum loved him. This part of Mark was ugly and black like the witch’s cauldron, selfish and childlike in its directions. He tried to suppress this urge.
“I’ll go after him,” Mark decided. “We can’t leave him alone for too long.”
Jinyoung looked up. He was still holding Jackson, his grip tight.
“I think I should go after him,” Jinyoung suggested. “You can’t do anything to stop him. I can.”
Mark shook his head.
“It’s too dangerous,” he said. “He might kill you.”
Jinyoung was sceptical.
“And he won’t kill you?”
Mark smiled, thin and weak and Jinyoung regretted the time he’d sung a human boy into romance four years ago. Mark stepped away.
“He already did,” Mark waved his hand. “15th February, 2013 – don’t you remember?”