Chapter Text
—16 FEBRUARY
10:23
“what do you mean, last minute change of plans?"
jinyoung readjusts his phone which is sandwiched between his face and his shoulder as he slams his foot down on the breaks, drawing up at a signal that decides to turn red just as he reaches it. his fingers tap an impatient beat on the steering wheel as he listens to the response of the person on the other end of the line, a deep frown drawn across his face.
"hyung, i’m really sorry," comes the small reply.
“youngjae-ah.” jinyoung takes an audible breath as he runs his fingers through his jet-black hair, partially annoyed at the signal which is stubbornly refusing to turn green but mostly annoyed with having been ditched at the last second. “‘last minute change of plans’ is the stupidest fucking excuse you could come up with. have fifteen years of friendship and all my caring all shrunk down to this small measure?”
“you’re doing that thing where you’re quoting, aren’t you? from your books? or plays? which one this time? the merchant of venice?” challenges youngjae.
the ravenet flinches at the spectacularly horrible guess. “pathetically, awfully off. it’s actually adapted from julius caesar.” he blinks in mild surprise as the signal turns to green, having resigned to accepting that he’ll be stuck waiting at that intersection for the rest of eternity. as a result, he’s a second too late to press the accelerator, earning him a loud honk from the car behind him. he wants to open the window and tell the owner of the car not to be so fucking impatient or else his appointment in hell will be moved up a few places, but it’s hot outside and the air-con is billowing cool air into his face, so he desists. besides, he has more important matters to deal with. “can you tell me the actual reason why you’re leaving me alone?”
“hyung…”
“alone, choi youngjae. i’m fucking abandoned, isolated, forsaken, solitary—i could go on for fucking forever.” jinyoung guesses that youngjae is flinching on the other end of the line. he generally tries not to swear around youngjae, but he can’t seem to quit the habit of saying the word ‘fucking’ way too many times when he’s angry, no matter who is on the receiving end of the anger. “you just got done with your mid-sems and i wanted to be a good hyung and take you out for a treat and you fucking call me at the last minute and say you can’t come?!” his voice raises about three pitches by the end of the sentence, and youngjae would’ve laughed, but that would’ve been the equivalent to poking a sleeping dragon in the eye, and the blond knew better than to do that. the older continues, in the same high pitch, “what am i supposed to do with the tickets?” a male pedestrian signals to jinyoung to not talk on the phone and drive simultaneously, and the ravenet, very maturely, ignores him and drives on.
“hyung, he called this morning...” strings of desperation wind themselves onto youngjae’s words, clinging like spun sugar onto profiteroles as he struggles to explain himself.
jinyoung lets out a sigh of annoyance when he realizes who the younger is talking about, and the annoyance doubles when he realizes that the very person who is being referred to should've been coming along with them that very day, but when jinyoung had asked him, he said he had plans. with a bite to his words, he asks, “he, who? he could mean anyone, jae! a fucking serial killer, our chemistry teacher—”
“first of all, your major is literature and you minor is mech. you don’t even take chemis—”
“i fucking know what i take, jae,” snaps jinyoung impatiently. he turns his indicator on, turning into his apartment complex’s parking lot. “look, i’m home now, and i’ll be along to pick you up in ten minutes unless you tell me who he is. if you don’t tell me, i’ll just assume it’s someone dangerous and realize that the safest thing to do is drag you along to the thrill zone with me, no fucking excuses.”
“don’t say the word ‘fucking’ so much.”
normally, youngjae’s little reprimanding voice, that didn’t make an appearance very often, would’ve caused jinyoung to melt into a puddle and gush about how he had the cutest dongsaeng in the world and how of course, he’ll do anything for him, but today is an exception. he was really looking forward to this trip. “i fucking can and i fucking will if i fucking want to.”
“hyung…”
“you’ve started fucking every sentence so far with ‘hyung…’”
“what else do i say?”
“tell me who the fuck he is!”
“but you already know!” no lies there, but that's not going to get jinyoung to drop the argument, and youngjae very well knows that, but he thought it had been was worth a shot.
jinyoung slams his car door a little unnecessarily loud. the fresh scent of spring hits him in the face with full force, almost causing him to smile. he’s a nature lover by nature. instead, he slings his satchel over his shoulder, a small sound of exasperation escaping the back of his throat. “honey, if you’re going to date a boy, you’re going to have to get used to saying. his. fucking. name.”
a bunch of noises sounding like a live version of a key-smash escape youngjae’s lips, making jinyoung grimace and hold the phone away from his ears.
“we’re not dating! this is just a first date—”
“oh, puh-lease, jae. not dating ? what about the fact that you were unofficially dating for two fucking years? and what about that beautiful awkward confession that i had the pleasure of witnessing? the only reason you two haven’t had a legitimate date yet is because i’ve always been there. that and the fact that both of you are too lazy to move your asses and not just hang out at the apartment. you've been dating the whole fucking time, shut up. and yes, the other day, he referred to you as his boyfriend.” jinyoung lets a little giggle spill out from between his lips, camouflaging his sadism as he unconsciously brings his hand up to cover his mouth as he silently laughs.
more key-smash sounds.
“his name, jae. say his name.”
“what, you don’t know the name of the person you share an apartment with?” youngjae’s tone has morphed into one more challenging, thick with bravado as he tries to wheedle himself out of jinyoung’s interrogation.
jinyoung punches the down button as he waits for the elevator, planning to make his way up to that very shared apartment. he hums obnoxiously, a lilt to his voice as he says, “i know his name. i know his stupid name way too well. my question is, do you know his name?”
“hyung!"
“jae!”
the younger clicks his tongue in a resigned albeit mildly annoyed manner, and says in a voice barely sounding like his own, “all right, fine. i’m going to the han river with jaebum hyung, okay?”
“jaebum hyung? haven’t graduated to oppa yet?” snickers jinyoung, walking into the elevator and pressing the button for the fourth floor. he switches his now-warm phone to his left ear, wiping off the sweat around his right ear with his sleeve.
“you’re sick.”
“and you’re fucking adorable. but that doesn’t mean that i’ve forgiven you for ditching me today.” jinyoung has always been outright when it comes to the amount that he loves youngjae, and that in itself has often resulted in the younger getting away scotfree on counts that would've caused jinyoung to blow up had it been any other person on that receiving end. however, jinyoung knows that the result of this conversation will be just like always, and he'll end up letting youngjae off. old habits die hard.
“hyung, i’ll make it up to you. just go without your favorite dongsaeng for once.” youngjae’s playing the cute teasing card, trying to lighten up the conservation, hoping it'll lighten jinyoung’s mood.
“who said you were my favorite?” scoffs the older.
“you say it all the time.” again, not a lie.
“am i supposed to go to the thrill zone by myself? how will i enjoy myself?” whines jinyoung with the tone of a clingy five-year-old whose bedtime has rolled around.
“call someone.”
“as i never fail to remind you, as i never fail to be reminded of, i only have two fucking friends, for not many can match up to my high standard,” declares the older dramatically. the elevator dings and jinyoung steps out, a long exhale fluttering over his lips. he stops right outside his apartment, intending to finish the conversation before having to confront his useless flatmate. “never mind, i’ll just go on my own. if anyone asks, i’ll just say i have an awful best friend who ditched me to go out with my other best friend. even ron wouldn’t ditch harry if he had a date with hermione.”
“oh, please. that boy was whipped.”
much like you, jinyoung is tempted to say, but he contains himself with an affectionate eye-roll. “but of course he wouldn’t!”
“no, actually speaking, harry would get it.”
“i’m not being harry in this situation,” says jinyoung, a small smile on his lips.
“either way, you can’t date my sister!” whines youngjae playfully.
“either way, i do not possess the sexual orientation to do that...also, you can’t make jaebum hyung hermione because we both know he’s not smart enough to deserve that. i mean, he’s a nerd of the highest order, and i know you’re whipped for him, but between the three of us, even you should admit—”
“all right, all right, all right!” a small giggle. then a short pause. “why are we still talking?”
“oh, wow, now you’re why are we still talking zoning me? i am offended, choi youngjae. fuck you. have fun on your date. i know i shall, even though i don’t have a fucking date!” huffs the older. getting offended easily is one of his talents that he never mentions in his curriculum vitaes.
“hyung! i— ”
click.
jinyoung smiles in vindictive pleasure. he goes to put his key in the lock, only to watch the door open right at that moment. a boy the same age as him opens the door, his oak-brown locks roughly parted and swept to the side, making it look like he hasn’t put much effort into the way it looks, but jinyoung would bet anything that it took him at least twelve minutes to get it that exact way. the brunet wears a checked red-and-black hoodie with black jeans, cross earrings dangling from his ears and a bright grin resting on his face.
“jinyoung-ah! got my books?” asks the boy, grabbing the satchel from jinyoung.
“patience, jaebum hyung!” jinyoung tugs his satchel back from jaebum, taking it off his shoulder at an aggravatingly slow pace just to annoy the brunet. “yeah, i got your books.”
“thanks a ton!” grins jaebum, checking the contents of the satchel before chucking it onto the couch in the middle of the living room.
jinyoung quirks an eyebrow. it’s barely ever that he sees jaebum this jovial. he can’t help but think that the prospect of a date with a certain blond he knows could be the reason behind the mood change. speaking of which—
“hey, i was speaking to youngjae while i was driving,” says jinyoung, trying to not let a mixture of teasing, anticipation and irritation surface in his tone and give him away.
jaebum's head flicks up from his phone. he tries to sound nonchalant as he responds, saying, “youngjae? didn’t he get done with his end-sems yesterday? i should call him, maybe ask him how they went.”
jinyoung tries to frown but the only thing that flits across his face is amusement. jaebum is such a bad liar. “you pull off lying worse than I pull off athletics.” jaebum looks confused. jinyoung finds watching jaebum’s acting painful. “yeah, I know you two are going out today,” he deadpans.
shock, surprise and guilt take over jaebum’s expression alternately before he settles with a sheepish smile. “i was going to tell you.”
“rea-lly?” asks jinyoung, incredulousness leaching into both syllables as his eyebrows fly upwards. “highly doubted. first of all, i’m disappointed in you. you didn’t even lecture me about not talking on the phone and driving. a prime example of how the simplest mention of a person's significant other clouds judgment. second of all, i know you’d have even told me until after the date was over, because then i wouldn’t have a chance to sing the jaebummie hyung’s got a date song.”
“jinyoung-ah, you made that up during second year,” groans jaebum, who had evidently been hoping that the younger would have forgotten about that dreaded song. “of high school.”
“that song is special to our friendship! that was how we became friends! i’m wounded! wounded. do you not even remember? and it was barely a couple years ago.” jinyoung throws out a series of hand gestures to punctuate every syllable said and ends his performance with his hand theatrically clutching his heart.
“six years ago, actually. and that song was the reason i hated you,” reminds jaebum, bopping hyperactive jinyoung on the tip of his nose. it's a cute gesture. again, not one he sees from jaebum often.
“it's been that long? my god, we're old. also, you were my sole competition in class, and you were dating my best friend! of course i was going to rag you.”
“ex-best friend, if i remember correctly,” corrects jaebum, scrunching up his nose as memories with a certain dark-haired girl with a bright laugh and a cat addiction to equal his own flit across his mind in clips of quality reminiscent to the videos saved from years when they were in barely any color.
jinyoung nods. “look how far we’ve come though. you’re still dating my best friend, only this time i’m sure this one isn’t going to run away with an sergeant.”
“please change the subject.” it's not a simple request, having more of the tone of an order. jaebum sounds like his throat has filled with ice.
jinyoung instantly regrets bringing it up, not wanting to bring his best friend’s mood down when it's so unnaturally high. he sighs softly, sparing one more sentence before he moves on. “i still wonder how she’s doing sometimes. where did this conversation start? oh, right. hush, now, and listen to my performance.” a pause as jinyoung’s face contorts in an almost constipated fashion. “oh, shit, i can’t remember the lyrics.”
a happy laugh escapes jaebum. “so much for ‘this song is special to our friendship’,” he mimics, dragging exaggerated air quotes in front of jinyoung's face just to rub it in a little more.
“fuck you.” a frown sets itself on jinyoung’s face again. “hyung, i was going to take jae to the thrill zone today. at least until you walked in and ruined my plans. i thought you had plans today!” he pauses suddenly and narrows his eyes. “your plans had to do with jae?”
jaebum’s eyes widen. “what?”
“i asked if your plans had to do with jae.”
jaebum’s expression melts into one of obvious relief. “right. i misheard.”
jinyoung smacks his forehead, raising his eyebrows. “don't tell me you actually heard me as ‘your plans were to do—’”
jaebum claps his hand over jinyoung’s mouth with a loud laugh. “never mind! just go on.”
jinyoung glares at jaebum as the hand is pulled away from his mouth. “don't even think about it.” he puts his hands on his hips like a diva and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “but for real, hyung? you know for a fucking fact that he’s going to choose you over me.”
“okay, first of all, when you asked me, i actually did have plans, but they got canceled, and i forgot to tell you, and second of all…”
jinyoung waits for jaebum to break open the box of apologies. he’s disappointed.
“...i can’t believe how far up the ladder i am to be placed over you!” cackles jaebum, slapping jinyoung’s shoulder and bursting into laughter. “you’re like, his best friend, aren’t you? i mean, i know he has minseun, but you’re the fucking fifteen-year friend and damn ” jinyoung’s still glaring, but jaebum doesn’t shut up. “hang on. fucking fifteen-year friend. f, f, f. isn't that called something in your poetic lingo? a hyperbole?”
“you're lucky you don't have any other friends in the literary branch, because they'd tear you apart for that mistake,” spits jinyoung, shaking his head condescendingly. “and it's called an alliteration.”
he's still glaring at jaebum with a piercing, unblinking stare, so the brunet opts to pat him sweetly on the head. “actually, jinyoung-ah...s’okay. you can take him to thrill zone if you want to—”
“no!” exclaims jinyoung, stepping out of jaebum's reach and internally cursing his annoying obligingness towards his two best friends. the grin on jaebum’s face tells him that that was exactly what he was expecting. jinyoung sighs and says in barely a murmur, “you can take him out today. but you’re going to have to pay the next ten times we go for dinner together.”
jaebum raises his eyebrows. “you’re going to have to be the one keeping track, but awesome. we’re even now.”
“this causes me the loss of the money for one thrill zone ticket. this causes you the loss of so much more.” a small smirk graces jinyoung’s lips for the most fleeting of moments, comprising of three parts of malicious, one part of satisfied and six parts of i-am-already-lost-at-the-thought-of-food. jaebum merely shrugs, to which jinyoung remarks, “holy christ, you must really like him to agree to feed me ten times.”
jaebum smiles shyly, and jinyoung isn’t even mad anymore. (that may have had more to do with the promise of free food, but i guess we’ll never know.) he laughs and ruffles jaebum’s hair, only for jaebum to step back and hiss. jinyoung chuckles, “shoo, go enjoy your date. take care of my boy. protect him from assholes and don't be one yourself.”
“your boy? you’re not his mother.”
“i may as well be, i’ve raised him for fifteen years.”
“all right, i’ll take care of him. but being completely honest, you smother more than mother.” it was common knowledge, at least among the three of them, that jinyoung was basically no one if not youngjae’s helicopter mom.
“get the hell out here before i get over how cute you two lovebirds are and decide to punch you in the face instead.”
jaebum grins. he’s gotten that threat so many times, but jinyoung’s never actually carried it out. “see ya, park.” he takes the car keys from the younger boy’s hand, jinyoung slapping the other boy’s brown hair playfully. jaebum catches jinyoung’s eyes with a grin as he walks out the door, and then jinyoung’s left in an empty apartment, not sure what to do.
his options are between staying in and binge-watching a few dramas he has saved on his drive, staying in and working on three stories he has pending, staying in and finishing some of his literary project for the coming semester, and going out to the thrill zone on his own.
binge-watching? he’s seen them all about five times over.
writing? not in the mood.
project? no thanks.
that leaves?
sigh.
==
—16 FEBRUARY
10:45
mark swears he’s going to hunt jackson down if it's the last thing he does.
all the younger boy had said was “markiepooh, i have a date for you today! get yourself ready, you’re going out!” and put down the phone before mark could finish saying “what the f—” a small growl emanates from the back of mark’s throat as his phone buzzes and lights up as a message from jackson reaches him. jackson had always threatened to set him up on a date, to get him to meet new people or some bullshit like that, but mark never expected that he would actually set him up on a date. like, the real, actual thing. a date.
>snackson
two thrill zone tickets attached !! have fun !! dw you’ll <3 her !! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
markmywords<
wtf ihysm
>snackson
you won’t in a few years when you’re married to her and having babies will you (♥ω♥*)
markmywords<
drop the act
markmywords<
this is bc of wurin right
>snackson
UH NO Y WOULF U SAAY THTA LOL
(σ｀・д･)σ
markmywords<
stop pretending
>snackson
look i’m tired of him picking on u bc u single kヽ(#`Д´)ﾉ
markmywords<
how is setting me up on a blind date going to help that you asshole
>snackson
look u might actually like her k (￣^￣)
markmywords<
look i know i won’t
>snackson
just this once to get it off my back and to get wurin off your back (´･ω･`)
>snackson
tickets on me mah dude (*´・ｖ・)
>snackson
pls go
>snackson
i can’t cancel the tickets (*≧m≦*)
markmywords<
sigh
markmywords<
just remember that i’m only doing this for you
>snackson
& ily for that <3
>snackson
just this once k (=^-ω-^=)
markmywords<
aight
>snackson
(ノ^∇^) <3 <4 <5 <6
mark slips the phone into his pocket with a sigh. he was supposed to be enjoying his holiday. he had a whole bunch of nothing planned for the day. only, no.
truth be told, he doesn’t hate very many things, but he does hate jeong wurin, who is the reason he has to go through hell and back on a sunny saturday.
a date. mark thinks he hates dates as well. especially blind dates. how are you supposed to enjoy yourself with a person you don’t even know? mark isn’t even that good with the people he knows well. meeting new people intimidates him, in the way bungee jumping scares acrophobic people. he mostly likes to keep to himself, or keep the company of the few people he knows well.
he never met jackson. jackson adopted him. the younger boy had entered college early, ending up in a batch full of people an entire year older than him. that hadn’t stopped him from walking up to mark on the very first day and introducing himself, saying, “hi, i’m jackson. i’d like to make a friend and you seem like you’d be an amazing one.” it was cheesy, the way he put it, and it was said in broken, awful korean, but mark also wanted a friend, mark also sucked at korean, and mark anyway figured he could do a lot worse, so he accepted. just like that, they became friends, inseparable in three months, their friendship strengthened by the fact that the concept of language barrier didn't exist to them. their conversations were carried out in a mix of korean, mandarin and english.
mark had asked jackson about a year later why he chose to become friends with him, to which the younger replied, “i knew you needed a friend, and i can honestly think of no better friendship to grace you with than my own.” the only other people mark knew well enough were the ones he worked with at the café. but then again, they were about as shameless as jackson.
his thoughts were brought back to earth with a thud as his phone buzzed again.
>snackson
she’ll be there at 11:30 so ya might wanna get moving :)
with a sigh, mark pulls himself off the couch, brushing chip bits off the front of his loose t-shirt and placing the rest of his packet of pringles on the edge of the sofa. he figures jackson will finish it off later when he gets back to their dorm. he glances at the dial on the phone, figuring he has about ten minutes to get ready and get into his car. mark was never fast at dressing, so it’s with a string of expletives that he rushes through his shower, barely looking when he picks out his outfit.
it’s only when he’s revving up the car that he realizes that he’s worn two different earrings on his ears. the difference is not that significant—one is a thin silver elliptical ring with an engraved design, whereas the other is an identical ring with three blood-red stones set in the middle. his hair is messed up, his contacts are making his eyes water and he’s wearing a t-shirt which says ‘i can only be nice to one person a day. today’s not your day. tomorrow’s not looking too good either.’ probably not the best thing to wear on the date.
on the trip over, mark decides that despite all his initial negativity and awful wardrobe choices, he’s still going to try to make a good enough impression. so what? he can say that the earrings are a statement for the upliftment of people who are considered misfits in society or some bullshit like that. he can say that the message on the t-shirt is for everyone else because he plans to be nice to her today. and his hair looks good even when it is messed up. jackson has expressed “mark, i am so jealous that you are so good-looking” in every variant available in english, korean and chinese—and once in french and spanish as well.
mark almost laughs out loud when he realizes what he’s stressing about. he hasn’t even met this person. and this girl, what was her name again?
fuck.
then he realizes he doesn’t even know how this girl looks. he should have asked jackson. he was so panicked at the prospect of a date that it completely slipped his mind. stupid lapse in judgment. he should have known that jackson wouldn’t have said it himself, that he would’ve spoken in vague pronouns.
fuck.
waiting at a signal, he fishes out his phone from his pocket, punching the first number on his speed dial and hitting the speaker button, almost dropping his phone in his panic.
“hello?”
“jackson! jackson, jackson, jackson. who have you set me up with?”
“slow down. i set you up with chae ana, didn't i mention that?”
mark’s heart drops. chae ana was in their year, so obviously he’d have no problem identifying her. ana’s major was mechanical engineering, just like mark, but the difference was the level of seriousness that they respectively exhibited towards the subject. mark always did the bare minimum to get by. having been blessed by genetics with a rather well-functioning neural system, and cursed with a laziness streak a mile wide, he managed to do well enough with not much effort and no desire to put in any more effort. ana, on the other hand, could only be defined as a workaholic. she spent most of her time at her professor’s lab, burying herself in research and theories. not that there was anything wrong with that—mark just didn’t see how he’d be able to relate on any level.
“but why did you set me up with her?”
“because i thought you two might get along well, duh. both of you are introverts. you're shy and you don't talk much.”
mark groans, his breathing speeding up like it generally does when he doesn't know how to deal with a situation. he starts consciously counting his breaths, continuing to speak once his breathing has evened out again. “boy, please tell me you’re not serious. how am i supposed to start a conversation? how am i supposed to start a conversation? i don’t even do that with you! unless it’s something super high priority, but still!”
“mark, would you calm down?”
“you set up the most asocial boy in our year with the most asocial girl in our year. what is wrong with you?” mark would normally feel bad for yelling at anyone, but he's really not in the best mood right now.
“a lot, being completely honest. i don't know! start a conversation on how you can't start a conversation? pretty cool, yeah?"
the signal turns green, and mark places his phone on his lap maneuvering to right lane so people can overtake him, his next words gritted out with white-hot anger. “jackson, i’m going to kill you.”
“i probably deserve it, but this is for your own good, hon! you don't have to deal with wurin anymore because you can say you tried and i'll stop getting mad because he picks on you because you apparently never try. you never see chae ana again or you see her again a lot more. we all get on with our lives and this has no consequences. done and dusted, markiepooh. the end.” mark can hear the sunshine in jackson's voice, and it pisses him off, how jackson always makes the worst decisions thinking he's doing something remarkable for society. or maybe he's just that way when it comes to making decisions involving mark.
“...”
“mark?"
“...”
“markie?"
“...”
“mark, unless you respond, i'm going to think you got into an accident and i'm calling the police.”
every word is measured and even, since mark’s annoyance had crossed a limit beyond which it can't be expressed. “your logic is the most screwed up thing on the planet. what is wrong with you.”
“mark, please…” jackson had a habit of using mark’s name in every sentence when he was trying to get him to do something.
“i’ll do it. i said i will, i can’t go back now,” says the addressed in the same low voice. “but i am never agreeing to this again. don’t tell me there will never be an again, i know there will be. but not if i have any say.”
“look, mark, i said i'm sorry."
“you'd better be.”
mark presses the red button to end the call before jackson can even frame a defense. he knows how annoyingly convincing the younger can be at times, and he’s not in the mood to be pacified at the moment. he keeps his eyes on the road for the next half an hour, biting his bottom lip hard to keep his emotions in check until he reaches the parking lot of the thrill zone.
he hasn’t been here very many times. he went with his siblings when he first came to korea, during his first year, and his sisters and brother had wanted to do something memorable with him before they left to go back to the states. even looking at the colorful theme park sends a small pang to his heart. he could have been home for spring break, if only l.a. wasn’t so far away. he’s only been here once after that, with jackson.
he’s a little nervous and jittery, pulling at his fingers nonstop as he makes his way to the ticket counter, standing in the line of all holders of pre-paid passes. the line is extremely long. obviously, he should've guessed. he could barely find a parking space. he stands quietly, trying to get pushed back by the boisterous family in front of him. a harried set of parents desperately try to keep their son and daughter in order. twins, by the look of them. the girl is pulling the boy’s hair and their mom looks close to pulling her own hair out. they’re both yelling in excitement. would be about ten—twelve?—years old, by the look of them. mark observes them in seconds that he has between checking for ana (maybe he should’ve got her phone number, dammit, but he doesn't want to call jackson to ask), missing the days when he could get sugar-high like that. jackson still does. mark envies him.
finally, after an agonizing wait of almost twenty-five minutes, mark gets to the counter, tickets open on his phone. a girl stands behind it, bright pink lipstick decorating her plump lips. she has a large welcoming smile. “tickets, sir?”
panic suddenly rises in mark’s throat. ana isn’t here yet. he isn’t even sure if she has the tickets.
fuck.
he really should’ve thought enough to wait for her in the parking lot or something. what if she’s searching for him now?
fuck.
“see, the thing is, my date isn’t really here yet.”
“oh?” her smile remains as bright, but just a tad more strained.
“um, yeah. is there any way—”
“sir, you are aware that once i allot your tickets as per the code on your phone, the code stands to be null, meaning that no one can enter the park with your exact code. so if your date isn’t here yet, i suggest you wait.”
mark chews on his bottom lip anxiously. he can't go through that excruciatingly long wait again . his anger level is rising again, but he chooses to appear calm. “right, i know that. i just—is there possibly any way that i could—”
“i’m afraid not, sir.”
mark casts a quick glance behind him, hoping against hope that he will see ana. “look, i can’t go back and wait, the line is huge, and i’ve already been standing for quite a while…” begins the brunet, uncertainty blunting the rough edge he meant to give his words. he wants to tell them that they have a shitty system of entrance that is also inconvenient and inconsiderate, but the words don't reach his mouth.
“we regret that we can’t help you out, sir. please do understand.”
“are you sure—”
that’s when mark is interrupted by an annoyed male behind him.
“look, there are other people trying to get into the park as well, you know?”
mark whirls around, coming face to face with a male who looks about his age, wearing a black half-sleeved button-down shirt with hair of an equally dark shade to match, eyebrows drawn together in a disgruntled frown and eyes as cold as the last couple months have been.
“i’m sorry, it’s just—” begins mark, feeling like a cornered animal. he's not at all skilled at dealing with strangers.
“i get it, but you can’t hold up the line and waste everyone else’s time.” the male’s lips are pressed together in a thin line. mark actually slightly understands. the heat and the crowd haven’t put him in a stable emotional state right now either. embarrassment blooms in his gut.
“i’m really sorry.” he turns back to the ticket counter lady. “one ticket, please,” he murmurs, showing her the code on his phone. she checks the code off the list on the ipad in front of her and hands him a pass.
“have a good day, sir.”
oh, he’s having a great one.
==