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I feel like shit now. Thanks a lot.
-
Mark was drunk.
Well, judging from the half empty champagne bottle and the open box of chocolates and Mark sprawled on the floor next to them with his hair in a disarray and shirt riding up like he was posing for a shoot, it was logical to arrive at that conclusion.
Jinyoung turned the lights on. “I’m home.” Mark blinked slowly and turned his head slowly to look at Jinyoung, squinting against the harsh light with a frown. His frown turned into a smile that lit up his whole face. His eyes sparkled. Jinyoung suddenly had to sit down.
Mark was looking at him with those eyes, eyes that looked at him like he hung the fucking moon. Jinyoung hated those eyes. He only ever got to see them when Mark was like this.
Jinyoung cleared his throat. “Where are the others?” Something moved in the corner of the room and Kunta emerged from the shadows. The black cat ambled over to Mark, taking an interest in one of his hands.
“That tickles,” giggled Mark, as Kunta set about licking the chocolate residue from his fingers, nipping each when he was done. Mark squealed. Jinyoung felt like his insides were being squeezed by a fist.
Kunta gave one last nip to Mark’s fingers and moved towards the box, which spurred Jinyoung into action. “No,” he said, plucking the box up and out of the cat’s reach. “No,” Jinyoung repeated firmly when the cat continued to glare at him. After a brief staring contest, Kunta huffed and stalked off.
“Jinyoung, you’re mean,” whined Mark, tugging on Jinyoung’s leg with clumsy hands.
“Jaebum would’ve had our heads if he found out Kunta had chocolate. You know it’s not good for them.” He looked down and took stock of where he was; standing on top of Mark with the other boy between his legs. Mark, obviously having realized the same thing, seized Jinyoung by the waistband of his jeans and pulled him down with unexpected strength.
Jinyoung went down, landing painfully on his knees, barely managing hang on to the box and not crush Mark at the same time. “Jinyoungie fell,” sang Mark in a high-pitched voice.
How the fuck had no one woken up yet?
One of Mark’s hands tugged at his collar but Jinyoung caught it. Mark’s fingers were long and delicate and his hand was quite warm. Mark spread his fingers out, aligning it with Jinyoung’s hand. Mark’s brow furrowed, as if displeased. “Your hands are too big.”
Jinyoung laughed, hopelessly charmed. Fuck, Mark Tuan had him wrapped around his finger. He reached out with his other hand and wiped a stray smear of chocolate from Mark’s flushed cheek. His hand lingered, wanting to mold his fingers to the shape of his cheekbone and commit it to memory.
A memory came to him then, of him and Jackson, bent over their drinks at some dingy bar in Osaka. “You’ll break him. Don’t do it unless you know you won’t hurt him.”
Jinyoung let out a shaky breath, and let Mark’s hand go. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“But I’m not sleepy,” mumbled Mark, his head lolling to the side and looking at Jinyoung with half lidded eyes.
“Yes, you are,” insisted Jinyoung, picking him up. They made it to Mark’s bed without stepping on any cats or bumping into anything, which was an accomplishment given Mark’s disposition as an uncoordinated drunk.
Mark mumbled something he couldn’t make out while Jinyoung tucked him into bed. He placed water and hangover medicine on the bedside table. “I love you,” murmured Mark as he curled up into a ball under the comforter.
Jackson would’ve said, “Me too, bro.” Youngjae would’ve laughed it off and bid him goodnight. The others would’ve dismissed it as drunk talk. But Jinyoung could only stand there, a lump in his throat and watch Mark slip into slumber.
He flopped down on the couch a few minutes later, exhaustion in each inch of his bones. He considered falling asleep right there but found that he was wide awake. The bottle of champagne beckoned him and Jinyoung, not in the mood to stay up all night with his feelings, grabbed the bottle and prepared to drink himself to sleep.
Kunta appeared from whatever corner of hell he’d fucked off to and slithered his way into Jinyoung’s lap. He regarded the bottle in Jinyoung’s hand with disapproval.
“I feel like shit now. Thanks a lot.” Kunta blinked slowly at him, as if he gave no fucks whatsoever about the state of Jinyoung’s inner turmoil. He probably didn’t; Kunta was a cat and no matter what Jaebum said about cats being as intelligent as humans, he couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of his feelings regarding Mark Tuan.
Kunta bumped his head against Jinyoung’s hand, demanding he be petted.
Jinyoung sighed, and curling his hand through the soft fur, took another sip.
It was going to be one of those nights.