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The moment Mark sees Renjun approaching him, Mark knows that this, whatever this is, wouldn’t bring him any good. Why? Mark is already forming a whole ass list in his head. In bold letters, and all that jazz.
WHY THIS ISN’T GOOD:
- Renjun never talks to Mark.
- Point 1.
- The last time Mark talked to Renjun was during one of their very last sleepover where Mark had tried to rekindle their broken friendship, as a last hope, but only ended up being one of the awkwardest sleepover ever. So, no. No. in whatever context, this is not good.
- The last time they talked was six months ago.
Renjun is nearing Mark now. His stance, well, normal. Like how he usually walks, except there’s an air of jitters around him. Or maybe that’s just Mark. Mark knows he has jitters right now. It’s never good when your ex-bestie approaches you at school. This is getting so fucking awkward. Mark has literally been staring at Renjun the moment he noticed Renjun going towards him. Mark even usually ignores him when he sees him in hallway, and this is probably the longest he has ever looked at Renjun ever since they drifted apart. What if he wasn’t even going towards Mark? That would be fucking embarrassing. Mark has been staring. Oh, shoot.
He’s here.
Mark fakes looking down at his sprawled notes. The library is loud, as per usual. Mark remembers a few minutes ago the librarian was looking pissed as hell at the noise, but didn’t care enough to actually say something. Maybe she’ll snap. Mark hears a knock on his table. Who the fuck knocks on tables, Mark muses, his lips quirking up involuntarily at the oddness, and Mark manages to make the smirk disappear before he looks up.
Mark blinks, as if surprised Renjun is here, and Mark feels so ridiculously bare and fake. “Oh, hey. Need anything?” Haha. Smooth motherfucker.
Renjun blinks a little, and he fixes his glasses a little, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater. Mark can see a hint of smile on Renjun’s face, and Mark feels embarrassed. Knowing Renjun saw right through him, and probably knew Mark was just faking. They have drifted apart, but it didn’t mean the memory they had would just disappear. Renjun was--or even is-- the person that knows Mark all too well. They were best friends for so long. Mark just wonders where they went wrong. How did they end up like this. But this isn’t really the time to dwell over the past. Even though the subject of his past is right here, in front of his eyes, eyes sparkling and expectant.
“Hey, Mark,” Renjun starts. Okay, Mark can work with that. That’s okay. Renjun continues. “Um, so the letter.” That, Mark can’t work with. The first thing Mark’s brain comes up with is: what the fuck. Which is, okay, valid. Renjun then takes out something underneath his sleeves. Like, literally, not even metaphorically. The envelope is blue, and Mark’s brain immediately yells at Mark to fucking abort. To disappear somewhere, or wherever that doesn’t involve Renjun staring at him with his big, and sincere eyes. It’s baby blue, and Mark remembers choosing blue because blue is what Renjun is. Blue meaning serene, lovely, yet a hint of menace that’s hidden. Blue is-- was Renjun. “Look, uhm. I’m flattered--”
“Fuck,” Mark cuts off, and he snatches the letter out of Renjun’s outstretched hand. Renjun looks at him, biting on his bottom lip, looking guilty and so stupidly sad, that Mark feels sad. Mark looks up at Renjun, shaking his head vehemently. “You’re not supposed to see this.”
Renjun looks confused now. “Uh--”
Mark sighs, dropping the letter on the table, and running his fingers through his hair, looking at Renjun exasperatedly. “This isn’t me.”
Renjun looks sympathetic now. “Mark, I was--we were --close. We were close. I think I know that’s your handwriting when I see one. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m not here to embarrass you, Mark.”
Mark hates this so much. When Renjun looks at him like this. Like he’s a fucking kid, but Mark needs to make it clear. This is fucking humiliating. Good lord. Mark sighs. “Look, I don’t know how you got the damned letter, okay? But I wrote that, like, during freshman year. Like, forever ago. It was supposed to be a personal stash--”
“Stash?” Renjun questions incredulously. “So you have other letters for me?”
“Not for you, for other--God, why are we talking about this? Please. Burn that letter.” Mark takes the letter from the table, holding it up. “Even better, I’ll take it, alright! I’ll burn it, and we’ll act like this never happened, and go back to how our life used to be. I’m sorry. God. Please go away, Renjun.”
Renjun purses his lips. “You have letters...for other people? How many are there exactly?”
“Oh my God,” Mark gets up, packing his things quickly into his bag, and Renjun, detecting Mark’s hurriedness to run away, snatches the letter from his hand. “What the fuck, dude?” Mark scoffs, giving up, going back to shoving his things in his bag. “You know what, whatever. All I know is that letter is not supposed to be out, okay? Just, whatever. I can’t believe that’s all you got from my rant. God, Renjun.”
Mark exits the library in a hurry, and Renjun follows him. Of fucking course. Mark goes to his locker, which is inconveniently close to the library, which means Mark can’t exactly run away more. His next class is probably in five minutes. “What exactly do you want, Renjun? I’m sorry I had a crush on you, okay? Had. Had.”
Renjun leans against the row of lockers as Mark shoves his books in his locker, taking out his History books. “Nothing, Mark. Just glad I got closure.” Mark rolls his eyes at that, and Renjun only giggles. “Mark, you know. We could go back to how we were.” Mark shrugs at that. Renjun sighs. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Another wistful smile. Renjun then holds up the letter, as he backpedals towards the library. “I’m keeping this.”
Mark shrugs again, and Renjun is off.
Mark slams his head against his locker.
Fuck.
The letters are out.
All four of them.
-
Mark tries to remain positive. Well, as positive as it gets. In History, Mark taps his foot on the floor the whole hour that one kid from the back gives Mark a pointed look. His teacher even asks Mark if Mark needs to shit because Mark is so nervous that he’s sweating. This is fucking gross. Okay, fine. So one letter inexplicably got out to the recipient. It doesn’t mean that the other letters were out too, right? God, Mark fucking hopes so. How the hell did the letter even come out in the first place? It has never left Mark’s closet, and it’s even in the hidden pile of Mark’s closet. This is ridiculous. Mark hates feeling like this so much.
Mark exits class thinking that someone will bombard him, and well, no one did, but the next class after History makes Mark even more anxious since the supposed recipient is in this class. Mark wants to die. He really does. It would be better for the ground to swallow him up than for him to actually face life right now. The embarrassment is too much. Literally. The embarrassment is what made Mark take an entour from his locker after taking his Maths book to the toilet. After spending 10 minutes in the toilet, sitting on the covered toilet seat, tapping his foot uncontrollably, he finally goes to Maths.
His Maths teacher likes him too much to say anything anyways, so when Mark enters class 20 minutes late, with his earphones in, she barely bats an eye, and just told Mark to do the exercises on the board, pointedly telling Mark that he would have twenty less minutes to solve them since he came in late. That was the only form of beration that came from his teacher, and Mark thanks his past self for being such a good student that Mark can do something so undisciplined and not getting scolded for it. Mark avoids all of his classmates’ eyes, and proceeds to take out a paper, scribbling furiously on it. Mark spends about 15 minutes on working on the problems undisturbed. Before Mark hears a chair scraping on the floor near Mark.
Mark ignores it.
A cough is heard.
Mark ignores it, shoving his earbuds further.
Someone pulls on Mark’s earbuds, and Mark whips his head to the person in shock. Oh, no.
“What the hell, dude?” Mark frowns, ignoring the bubbling anxiety down his throat, and the person, Jaemin, smiles cheekily. Jaemin sits at the very back, while Mark sits at the very front. The front is always empty anyways, so Jaemin probably just got up from his seat, and decided to claim the empty seat next to Mark. “I have one more question to do.”
“And I have zero,” Jaemin fires back, still smiling. This is getting too much for Mark. Mark rolls his eyes, and goes back to his question. He knows why Jaemin is here, of course. Jaemin is the reason behind Mark’s anxiety of going to Maths. Jaemin is one of the recipient, which, well, since Jaemin is here, would confirm the dreadful theory of all the letters being out. This is horrendous, truly. Already two out of four of the receivers talked to him, and each time, it has him feeling like wanting to die and perish. This is ridiculous. How the fuck. Why the fuck.
Jaemin is still studying Mark. Jaemin whistles. “Wow, you’ve only been here for twenty, but you’re already on the last question.”
“It’s not like the questions are hard,” Mark mumbles absentmindedly as he punches some numbers into his calculator, his brows furrowed. Jaemin whistles again, and this time, to pass time, he decides to take one of Mark’s earbuds, and shove it in his ears, making the earphones connected, which makes Mark so stupidly flustered because of how intimate this all is. “Hey!”
“Hi,” Jaemin replies, shooting Mark a grin, and he continues amusedly. “You’re not even listening to anything. Did you just do it to make it seem as if you’re not listening?” Mark glowers. “Edgy.”
“Funny,” Mark growls, and he grudgingly passes Jaemin his phone, since Jaemin has his palms out as a command, and Mark opens his Spotify quickly so Jaemin can pick a song. “Get to the point, Jaemin.”
“But you’re not done with your work,” Jaemin points out, and the song by Silicon Estate plays through his earphones. Jaemin smiles. “You listen to them, huh? I thought I was the only one. Thought I’m the only edgy one in our intake.”
“Please stop overusing the word edgy,” Mark begs, and he writes down his answer, and slams his pen down, sighing. Suddenly, all of his thoughts and anxiety settle in his bones, and Mark feels this huge urge to take a nap. “I’m done, Jaemin. What do you want?”
Jaemin takes out a pink envelope out of his leather jacket. There must’ve been a pocket in there for Jaemin to store it there. It’s pink. It’s baby pink because Jaemin is exactly that. Fluffy, soft, wonderful, yet so cheeky. Mark doesn’t know where this habit of naming colours came from, but it’s more of a gut feeling kind of thing. Renjun is blue, Jaemin is pink, and the others are lavender and mint green. It’s just something that Mark deduce from looking at a person, and how they make him feel. Jaemin just happens to make him feel pink. Like everything good in the world and more. The fantasy Jaemin, at least.
“I appreciate you thinking my eyes sparkle like no tomorrow--”
“God, please shut up.” Mark groans, and Jaemin looks kind of confused. There’s this cute hint of smile, yet raise of an eyebrow on his face, and Mark feels his insides heat up. “Look, Jaemin--” Mark cuts himself off, and spares a look at the teacher, glad to see that she’s currently too invested in her laptop, obviously not caring whatever the hell the students are doing. “The letters are not supposed to be out, okay?”
“So it is from you, huh,” Jaemin hums, and his slender fingers toys with the envelope, flipping it between his fingers. “And there are letters? Am I supposed to receive more? Damn, Mark Lee, I’d never perceive you as the romantic type, but here we are.”
Mark bites his bottom lip, anxious. “They’re not all for you. Just--” Mark makes a move to take the letter from Jaemin’s hand, and Jaemin, expecting it, raises his hand up, his face still this mischievous one. “Look. Do whatever you want with it. Just know that they’re not supposed to be given out.”
Jaemin leans in closer, and the sound of the music in Mark’s ears feel even more serene. Silicon Estate is one of those indie bands, and the music is playing softly; in both Mark’s and Jaemin’s ears. Mark has this stupid thought of whether or not Jaemin is feeling the way he is right now. Thoughts heavy, breath laboured. He’s so fucking close. If Jaemin’s close, then Mark’s close, too right? Ridiculous. Jaemin is too composed to be feeling jittery around Mark.
“Do you mean everything you said here?” Jaemin holds up the letter questioningly, his eyes droop down to Mark’s whole face, and eventually back to his eyes.
“Does it matter?” Mark says weakly. Jaemin is admittedly the most recent letter Mark has written. It’s hard. To not have a crush on Jaemin. Not when he’s been nothing, but friendly and teasing to Mark. Not when Jaemin is this good looking. Not when they’ve grown into that acquaintance relationship ever since they’ve been placed in the same Maths class.
So, yes. Out of all the letters, Jaemin’s is probably the most genuine one at this point. Written just over one month ago.
“Hmm,” Jaemin jokingly muses, lifting his finger up to his chin as a way to exaggerate his way of thinking. “Yes.” His eyes are kind of sparkly. “Yes, it does.”
Mark swallows. The words are getting harder to leave his throat. As if lodged. Does Mark want to say it? Oh fuck. Fuck.
The bell is ringing. Their school bell is really fucking annoying. It’s unnecessarily long, and it’s been four years, but it still makes Mark feel like he’s in a fire drill or something.
“Right, submit your work, guys,” his teacher hollers over the loud bell, and Mark makes the move to the teacher’s table, forgetting that both him and Jaemin are connected by the earphones, so Mark gets pulled back.
Jaemin laughs, endeared. “Silly.” He softly pulls at Mark’s earphones so that Mark can go, and Mark feels warm under his gaze. This is too much. Jaemin hands out his work to Mark, and gives Mark his pleading eyes. “Submit mine too, please?” Mark does, and he pointedly puts Jaemin’s work on top of his which makes Jaemin giggle.
Mark quickly packs his things, and Jaemin goes to his original seat so that he can pack up his things. Mark tries to be faster than Jaemin in packing things, but Jaemin is still faster because he doesn’t have shit tons of things like Mark, so Jaemin ends up catching up with Mark right as Mark exits the classroom. They walk down together in the hallway. Mark immediately looks down.
“Look, Mark, let’s talk.”Jaemin says, and Mark pointedly walks faster to his locker. They arrive at Mark’s locker because Jaemin’s an ass who doesn’t understand, and Jaemin leans against the rows of locker, like Renjun did earlier. It’s both of their free block anyways, so they do have time to talk. It doesn’t mean Mark wants to talk, though, and how Mark knew Jaemin has a free block--well, that’s something to also not talk about.
“There’s literally nothing to talk about,” Mark says quickly, but he has stopped feeling anxious. He’s just really, really tired now. Mark wants more than anything to go home and cuddle up in his blanket. And sincd Mark has his study block after this anyways, Mark is really planning to just go home. His movements become slower. Knowing that Jaemin would be here until Mark is done, so it’s whatever.
“Do you wanna help me out?” Jaemin asks hopefully, and he softly pokes at Mark’s side.
Mark glances at Jaemin. “Depends.” Mark slams his locker shut, and leans against it, and Jaemin chooses to not lean his body against the locker to look at Mark properly.
“Let’s date.”
Mark stands there, shell shocked. Mark furrows his eyebrows at Jaemin questioningly. “Look, you don’t have to pity-like me, okay? The letter was--just. Not supposed to be given to you. I don’t know how it did get to you, but it did. Okay? Just---please pretent this never happened.”
“Fake date, then.” Jaemin shrugs. Jaemin puts his hand on Mark’s locker, and Mark feels like he felt when he was in Maths. Jaemin too close, and it’s making Mark so so warm. “I just need--”
Mark doesn’t hear what Jaemin says next, and instead, saw from behind Jaemin, Jeno. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Abort fucking mission. So Mark does one thing he doesn’t even know he’s capable of doing. Oh fucking god. Mark pulls Jaemin by his collar, and kisses him. On the lips.
Lips.
With Jeno watching them from the back, expression shocked.
Mark closes his eyes, and the last thing he sees before he does is Jaemin closing his eyes along with Mark.
Kissing back.
-
Mark is in his car, breath laboured, cheeks flushed.
That shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t have happened. Mark doesn’t know what possessed him to just kiss Jaemin out of blue like that, but it happened, and Mark is done. Truly. This is too much in one day. Not only did letters that are supposed to not be out are out, but now a boy he actually likes (at that moment, at least) wants to date--fake date--whatever--him.
Mark takes a deep breath and starts his car. Security doesn’t care much when students leave, so Mark drives off to his house, drowning in thoughts. How the hell is he even going to fix this problem, is beyond Mark. He has no idea why his mundane life is turning into this mess of a tragedy. This is horrible. Three-ish out of four of the recipients have said something to Mark, and--well, most of them weren’t actually assholes, but now they know Mark has--or had--a huge ass crush on each one of them.
Renjun, Mark remembers writing in the letter. You kind of make me happy in ways no one can. Mark remembers that. Mark remembers saying his appreciation for having someone like him. Mark remembers writing the ways Renjun look at him. Mark remembers being so immersed in his own emotions that he’s drowning. God, he’s drowning. In words, affections, and more. That’s what he feels each time he writes those letters. All four of the boys had made Mark feel so inexplicably warm and tingly.
In love is not quite the word.
Maybe infatuation is.
Mark remembers writing Jeno’s letter out of a moment of weakness. It was after PE, and that was the next crush Mark had after he got over Renjun when it was pretty obvious that they would remain platonic forever. Well, forever is apparently until the end of 10th grade. Anyways, after Renjun, it was Jeno. Jeno who had been in PE with Mark, and Jeno who is in volleyball team, who has arms that are to die for. It was probably during sophomore year. When they had the same PE class for the whole year, and Jeno never fails to make Mark laugh and help Mark make a serve.
Your arms, Mark remembers writing, thinking: who cares that he’s talking about this in these letters when it’s never going to be revealed. Yeah, fucking right. If only Mark could just talk to his old self to stop being so...yeah. Stop. Just stop writing those letters. Mark hits the steering wheel in frustration, the embarrassment is just too much at this point, and Mark wants to disappear. All the words Mark remembers having written is drowning him, and Mark feels so stupidly flustered.
“Ughhhhhhhhhhhh,” Mark groans. He didn’t even connect his phone to the AUX. Too immersed in embarrassment that he forgot. Mark turns on the radio, and it immediately connects to Mark’s phone, and the song by Silicon Estate plays. Fuck. Too many people remind him of this now. Jaemin was wrong. He and Jaemin are not the only edgy ones, but also Donghyuck.
Donghyuck. The one who has the Lavender letter. Mark hasn’t seen Donghyuck at all today, and that was probably for the good. Donghyuck was someone in Junior year. Probably the briefest crush Mark has had out of the four, probably for only two weeks before Mark lost interest. But it didn’t mean that it was not flaming like the rest of the crushes. It was. Fiery, and big. Mark had known Donghyuck since he got close to his brother, Chenle, which is--well. Mark has always enjoyed looking at good looking faces, and junior year Donghyuck was exactly that. Beautiful, and always hanging around Mark’s house. He’s that close with Chenle. But the more stupid shits Mark sees Donghyuck does with Chenle, the more the crush faded. And Chenle probably likes Donghyuck. Or not. Who knows, really.
It’s about 5 more minutes of driving.
Mark thinks of Jaemin. The senior year crush. Mark has had this crush for over a month now. Ever since the new school term started, and until now. They talk sometimes in Maths, but what truly made them sort-of-friends was getting paired up after the teacher saw Jaemin slacking at the back. But Jaemin doesn’t care much for rules, and ended up moving back to the back seat. Which made Mark pretty sad, but it’s whatever. But Mark thinks even if they don’t talk in Maths, the crush would still grow. Because Jaemin is that irresistible. He has the nicest smile Mark has ever since. He’s tall, and looks at people intently while they’re talking and it makes Mark feel some sort of special only to end up being disappointed to figure out that he talks and looks everyone like that. (Mark saw Jaemin and his volleyball mates in the hallways, and Jaemin had such a fond look on his face).
Mark wrote the letter probably around a month ago.
Baby pink, soft, lovely, like how Jaemin is. But a hint of mischievousness if Mark looks closely.
-
The first thing Mark smells when he’s at the entrance of their house is the smell of bolognese sauce. So Mark grudgingly walks to the kitchen, and his father is there, stirring the sauce in the pot while his phone is in his left hand. His father looks up, grinning at Mark, and Mark, despite his shitty ass day, gives his dad a tired grin.
“Hey,” Mark greets, and he plants a kiss on his father’s cheekbones. The lines on his face obvious as Mark looks closer. Mark sits down on the stool, looking at his father cook. “I forgot you don’t have a shift this afternoon. I was ready to cook for myself.”
His father gives a pitying smile at Mark, and Mark can’t help but rolls his eyes. He knows his father gets guilty when he spends too much time at the hospital, and he feels like he’s abandoning Mark and Chenle too much, which is probably far from the truth. He always has this look on his face when he feels like he’s not home as much. The guilt of being a single father getting to him. Mark gets fond when his father is like this.
“Only you and me?” His father asks, after asking Mark to take some bowls for the pasta.
“Same old,” Mark laughs. “Chenle has football practice. I’m picking him up later. At three.”
“I’ll pick him up,” his father dismisses. “I haven’t spent much time with him, anyways.”
Mark only rolls his eyes again. They both eat, and the lunch was spent with small talks here and there. His dad asks him about his latest grades, and if any college has replied to him yet, and all that jazz. Mark replies halfheartedly, and asks about his dad’s patients which he replies enthusiastically about, somehow managing to get into the personal details, but also not too personal.
Mark is just washing the dishes when they’re done that his mind drifts back to the letters. The cursed letters. What would Donghyuck say if he comes over? How the hell did the letter even get out in the first place?
“Jeez, chill, Mark,” his dad chastises, lowering the speed of the water. “What’s wrong?”
“Have you seen my box?” Mark blurts out. His dad looks at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“What box?”
“Like, the blue round one. Mum gave it to me when you guys gave it for my PSP,” Mark replies.
“Oh,” his dad says. “Dunno, Mark. I didn’t see it around, though.”
“M’kay,” Mark says, and the conversation is left at that. Mark hurriedly goes up to his room, rejecting his dad’s request of watching the TV together, knowing that his dad will end up napping anyways, and Mark is in a rush of needing to get his theory right. He dumps his bag on his desk, and goes straight to his closet. Straight to behind a pile of neatly organised rows of hoodies.
The box isn’t there.
All the letters are really out.
Mark chooses to do what any other person would do if their personal, wild thoughts are out to the world (well, four boys. Pretty much the same, right?). Mark takes a nap.
-
Mark wakes up to the dark, and to someone knocking insistently on his door. Mark probably knocked out cold at around 12 in the afternoon. Judging by the look of his room, it’s probably around 5 in the evening, making the time Mark spent napping amount to 5 hours. Mark is already dreading how he’s going to sleep tonight, and still manage to look presentable tomorrow. It’s only Wednesday, that odd day of the week. The insistent knocking is still there. Right.
“What?” Mark hollers, deciding that going to the door to unlock it is too much work for Mark. So Mark lays there, staring at the ceiling. Thinking of simultaneously nothing and everything.
“It’s Chenle,” Chenle hollers back, and Mark groans.
“The door is locked,” Mark says.
Chenle tugs on the doorknob. “Uh, yeah? And? Open it, dude.”
“I’m tired,” Mark complains.
“You literally just woke up, hyung,” Chenle fires back. Chenle reminds him too much of his mother. Mark grudgingly gets up to unlock the door, and switching on the lights, making Mark blink fast to get used to the new settings. Mark lays back down on his bed, his face to his pillows, defeated. The lights can go to hell. His head is pounding, Mark realises. It’s always like that when Mark sleeps too much in the afternoon. Mark doesn’t exactly know why it’s like that. Mark feels the bed dip, and Chenle’s small voice asking. “Are you okay?”
“Why would I not be,” Mark mumbles back, and there’s a line of thought in head asking if everybody in school knows that Mark had confessed to four boys at once, technically. At least that was how it seemed to people if they do know. “Did you...hear something?”
“Hear what?” Chenle asks, confusion tinting his tone, and Mark feels glad.
“Donghyuck didn’t tell you anything?” Mark asks, just to test the waters.
“Tell what?” Chenle asks, still with the same tone, and Mark can feel his jitters settling down.
“M’kay. Can you get my phone, please?” Mark says, making his voice as pitiful as he can make it out to be.
“You have a headache, don’t you?” Chenle scoffs, but he still leans over Mark’s body, making Mark let out a noise to get Mark’s phone from the bedside table. “How long did you even sleep? Jesus.” Chenle says, handing Mark his phone.
Mark places his back on the pillow, and glares at Chenle. “And you’re smelly from practice. God, why are you on my bed, that’s gross.” Chenle is still in his football shorts and jersey, and Mark gives him a stink eye in return.
“Whatever,” Chenle says, and gets up from Mark’s bed. “You promised to make brownies, by the way.” He then makes the move to exit the room.
“You’re washing the dishes after, then!” Mark yells. “And are we getting Japanese food tonight, or dad’s leftover pasta?”
“Pasta,” their dad hollers from downstairs, and Mark hears Chenle’s door shut softly.
-
Chenle bounds down the stairs ten minutes into Mark making the brownies, and that basically means five minutes of Mark picking what music to play, and the other five minutes finding utensils to start this.
“Shit, I forgot.” Mark curses. “Preheat the oven, please. 175.” Chenle does so without complaining, and he starts taking out the leftover pasta in the fridge, heating them up.
“Hey, so like, can you make another pan?” Mark quirks up an eyebrow, and Chenle gives him a pout. “Hyuuuung. Please. I wanna bring some to school tomorrow.”
“That means I have to make, like, three batches, Chenle.” Three batches aren’t really a lot since it’s just brownies. But it’s the thought of having to do it for Chenle that makes Mark feel the need to say something. They have two ovens, anyways. Of course baking brownies would be easy. But they’re still siblings, and saying those words are just defaults at this point.
“You mean two?” Chenle questions.
“No, three. I’m bringing some for my friends, too.” Mark shrugs.
“You have friends?” Chenle jokingly jabs, grinning at Mark cheekily as he leans his body on the counter, and Mark flips the middle finger to Chenle, right as his dad walks in.
Mark gets a pointed look from his dad, and Chenle laughs at his ass. Mark ends up baking three batches of brownies, and the three of them eat the first batch after dinner as the second Harry Potter movie plays in the big screen. Mark and Chenle pack up their brownies in cute little containers their mother used to buy that she would never let them use if she was still here. But she’s not, so Mark uses them to pack up his and Chenle’s brownies for tomorrow, storing them in the fridge. It kind of makes Mark feel like she’s still here.
-
Mark drives both Chenle and him to school everyday. Or, has been ever since Mark got his license around last year. Chenle has gotten his license, but his father insists that they should just carpool to save the environment, and Mark sees his point, so Mark doesn’t really argue with it. Most of the time, Chenle is in the passenger’s seat since Mark doesn’t trust Chenle enough at times, and plus, Mark likes having control over things. Driving, and deciding where to park falls exactly into the territory.
“Don’t forget the brownies,” Mark reminds when Chenle rushes out right after Mark parks the car. Chenle quickly takes his container, and runs off after yelling out a quick bye to Mark.
Mark stays in the car, since registration doesn’t start for another 20 minutes. Sipping on his coffee as he scrolls through his social media. His peace is immediately disturbed after exactly three minutes. Someone opens his car door, and Mark half expects Chenle or Changbin, his only friend at this point. But it’s Jaemin. With his stupid yellow flannel that fits him so stupidly well, and his sparkling eyes.
“Hi, good morning,” Jaemin greets. He opened Mark’s car door, not even the passenger, so he’s so close to Mark. it’s obviously intentional. He meant to talk to Mark like this. What exactly goes on in Jaemin’s mind, Mark truly truly doesn’t know. All he knows is Jaemin decided to open Mark’s car door because he knew it would be more intimate this way, and it’s shitty. Shitty because of affected Mark is by all this. His ripped-at-the-knees jeans, and his body leaning towards the car door. Jaemin leans in and kisses Mark on the cheek, and Mark can see two girls passing by his car looking at them in shock. Jesus.
“Jesus, Jaemin, what the fuck?” Mark splutters. Mark can feel his body heating up, flustered. Kind of like how he always is when Jaemin is around. Jaemin takes Mark’s coffee from Mark’s frozen hand, and takes a sip, blinking innocently.
“What, Mark?” Jaemin fires back, and he knocks his knees against Mark’s own bare ones. Mark is wearing ripped jeans like how Jaemin is. Except he’s just sporting a sweater. “You were the one who kissed me yesterday. I took that as a yes.” Jaemin’s eyes study Mark for a while, and he then looks around Mark’s car. “Nice car.” He spots Mark’s phone on his lap. His fingers are brushing against Mark’s thighs, not bare, thank you very much, but still very much tingly, like all Jaemin’s touch and closeness has been, Fuck. “Speaking of dating, if we are, I need your phone number, you know.”
Jaemin types in something in his phone, and takes a selfie, probably to save his contact number as. Jaemin hands Mark back his phone. “We’re already following each other on Instagram, so that’s cool.” Mark heats up, remembering being nervous as to whether or not Jaemin would follow him back (he did). Mark looks at his phone. Mark sees that Jaemin has saved his phone number as babylove with tons of pink love emojis, and the picture he took is so darn beautiful it’s infuriating Mark had to see that it only took Jaemin one take to get a perfect shot. That’s literally the pretty privileges. Jaemin has also sent a message that says hey babe to said number.
“Dad gave me the car,” Mark blurts out, and Jaemin lifts an eyebrow. “For me to share with Chenle, my brother.”
“Your dad gave you guys an Audi to share,” Jaemin muses, and he lands his hand on Mark’s knee. “Interesting.” The stupid and endearing thing is Jaemin really does look interested. God help him.
“We’ll talk later,” Mark takes the chance, and drops his hand on Jaemin’s own rested one on his knee. “Later during Maths. Or like free block. Whatever.” Mark pulls his hand away. “Come on, it’s almost registration.” Mark shuts his engine off, and they both walk up to the entrance, doing his best to ignore the looks from people around him. Mark hates hallways.
“You seem anxious,” Jaemin whispers close to Mark’s ear. Mark shrugs, and Jaemin pokes at Mark’s side.
“That’s because I am,” Mark whispers back, looking at Jaemin’s eyes. They’re so closely huddled. “Walking down in hallways make me anxious. Makes me feel like I’m being watched, or something.”
“Huh,” Jaemin says, probably not understanding. Mark doesn’t blame him for not getting it. “We’ll walk together to Maths, and registration everyday, then?”
“You don’t have to,” Mark argues weakly.
They arrive at Jaemin’s registration class. Mark stops. Jaemin stops, and kicks softly at Mark’s shoes. “I want to.”
-
Mark has free block for first period. Jaemin does, too. Jaemin remembers, somehow, so he texted Mark for them to meet at the outside lounge to discuss whatever it is they have to discuss. Mark texts back wht and gets left on read, so Mark guesses Mark has to go. Jaemin is always with his volleyball friends outside, so Mark knows where Jaemin is talking about. Except it’s kind of hot as ass, and Mark is wearing a sweater. But Mark doesn’t want to complain much, so he’s out here after registration. Jaemin is already waiting for him.
“You want a brownie?” Mark offers as a greeting, already handing out the container for Jaemin to take, and Jaemin takes it, setting it down on the table.
“Domestic,” Jaemin comments absentmindedly as he opens it up. “Did you make it from scratch?”
“Uh, yeah, duh,” Mark replies, and plops down on the seat across Jaemin. “So, us. What do we need to talk about?”
“Where we stand in each others’ lives obviously,” Jaemin fires back. “So, you used to like me--” Mark just coughs out his brownie a little at that. He definitely didn’t say that, but Jaemin continues, unbothered. “And I need help. You kissed me when I asked for help. But you get weirded out when I bring up the idea of dating each other. I brought up fake dating, and you kissed me. What exactly are we?”
Mark colours a little, munching on the brownie. “Why do you even need help, Jaemin?”
Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “What’s with that tone? What’s wrong with asking for help?”
“Nothing,” Mark mutters, and continues. “Why me? Why a dating-related help?”
“Look, this is kind of stupid--”Jaemin cuts himself off, chewing on the brownie in his hand. “But, I need to drive away my ex, okay?”
“Jisung? The sophomore?” Mark questions, and Jaemin nods passionately. “He’s friends with my brother. He’s kind of cool, though, no?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Jaemin says. “He’s cool, sure. He plays sport, cool. But, like, we broke up literally two weeks ago. He still thinks we’re together.”
“Maybe you just didn’t make it clear to him?” Mark suggests.
“I did,” Jaemin grimaces. “Trust me.”
“I don’t want to get in between you jocks, Jaemin,” Mark pleads, and he closes the container before they run out of brownie. Mark still needs to give some of his other friends anyways.
“You’re not, okay? Trust me!” Jaemin begs in return. Jaemin pouts at the closed box. “Can I please have another one?” Mark’s tummy churns at the word please. Fucking ridiculous. Bare minimum at its’ best. Mark opens the container in defeat, and Jaemin smiles happily at him, knocking Mark’s half-eaten brownie with his new on cutely, before biting into it. “Look, he cheated on me, okay?”
“Oh,” Mark says. Mark hasn’t really heard of that rumour. But it’s not like Mark is one for gossip either, so Mark is not surprised he doesn’t know. Except things that involve Chenle’s friends, Mark would usually know since Chenle doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, “Um.”
“It’s okay, Mark, don’t feel bad.” Jaemin laughs. “Not many people know. Don’t want to embarrass him, or whatever. He’s, like, the star player. Once I’m gone that is,” Jaemin winks, and Mark snorts.
“How will fake dating help?” Mark asks, not getting where Jaemin is going.
“It’ll help tremendously, duh!” Jaemin says excitedly, and he grips Mark’s hand. “Look, we’ll fake date, and Jisung will be convinced that we’ve broken up. We’ll do it for a few months, Mark. Few kisses--we’re familiar with that already--and holding hands here and there, and they’re all fooled. C’mon.”
Mark is already forming a list. This time with normal letters, since Mark’s brain is being rational.
What could possibly go wrong?
- This, the feeling of excitement and happiness in his chest. He shouldn’t get used to this. The fact that he’ll fall deeper for Jaemin when Jaemin is under the impression that Mark has stopped liking him. This is ridiculous.
- Liking Jaemin more than he intends to.
- Getting used to having Jaemin around.
- Too into the whole scheme that not only Jisung and the people are fooled, but also Mark.
- Fuck.
- Everything.
Yeah, well. Duh. But then, Mark could gain a little something from this arrangement. Maybe his father and Chenle will stop looking at him pitifully every time Mark stays in on a Saturday night to study, or the joking do you have friends joke would stop because the only people he has ever brought home are Renjun, Changbin. Now he has a boyfriend, so that would stop them from giving Mark looks and jabs that Mark pretends don’t hurt.
“So what you’re saying is you’re using me as a rebound?” Mark asks jokingly.
Jaemin shrugs. “I can say that you used me as a rebound-ish, too. Didn’t you kiss me the other day because you saw Jeno Lee at the back?”
Mark colours. “Uh.”
Jaemin gets pouty. His eyes sparkly and pleading. “Please, Mark.”
Before Mark can even dwell on it even more, Mark’s mouth says what he knows he wants to say: “Let’s do this, Jaemin.”
What could possibly go wrong, right?
-
The first change in Mark’s new life as Jaemin’s fake boyfriend is having to fake in front of people. Which is exactly what the premise is about, but Mark didn’t really think it through. It seemed simple at first. Mark only has to lie to Jisung, Chenle, his dad, and Changbin. Which are all pretty much the only people in Mark’s life, and the one Mark has to lie for in Jaemin’s life. Except Mark forgets that he’s in a big school, and uh, news flash, there are other people in this school. There’s Jaemin’s parents, there’s Jaemin’s teammates, there’s just--a lot of people. Which is valid, of course, but doesn’t mean that Mark is not overwhelmed.
Ever since he enters senior year, Mark never really stays back for lunch anymore since Mark can go wherever the hell he wants to go, and the security doesn’t care. Mark plans on going to lunch with Changbin today, but Jaemin texts him, and Mark finds that he has a hard time saying no when it comes to Jaemin.
babylove
hey babe where r u
markly ❤️
im going out for lunch w changbin
babylove
omg but i promised my teammates to introduce u to them :(
markly ❤️
tough luck jaemin
babylove
pleathes
markly ❤️
why r u making fun of people w lisps
babylove
…..
babylove
pls come to the table we were at earlier for one sec then u can go to lunch w changbin
markly ❤️
changbins class starts at 1 it’s literally already 12:30 jaem
babylove
changbins a lying ass bitch i have econs w him later we start at 1:30 liar
markly ❤️
ugh fine
So Mark ends up going to meet Jaemin’s teammates, which would mean Jisung is there since Jisung is in the volleyball team. Jaemin is waiting at the entrance of the school since Mark and Changbin were already in the car when Jaemin had textec Mark. Changbin only grumbled, but followed Mark out of the car since Mark says he won’t turn off the engine so that Changbin can wait.
“Hey,” Mark greets, kicking softly at Jaemin’s feet, and Jaemin kisses his cheek in reply, grinning.
“Hey,” Jaemin greets Changbin, doing the classic bro shake, and Jaemin drapes his arm over Mark’s shoulder, leaning his head against Mark’s head. “Your lunch is gonna have to wait. The dudes in the team can’t wait to meet Mark, Changbin.”
Changbin just nods, chuckling. “Yeah, whatever. I would, too. I didn’t even know you two were this close. All I knew was you and Mark sharing the same Maths class. Never thought it was this far.” Mark only grimaces, and Jaemin leads the way to where his teammates are, his hands dropping even low to Mark’s waist. Changbin following close behind.
Mark is introduced to the team. Quick and brief, and surprisingly, the people in the volleyball team are quite nice. Not the typical jock Mark imagines them to be. They all wolf whistled when Mark and Jaemin approaches them, and greets Mark nicely, telling him to take care of Jaemin well, which creates this weird feeling in Mark’s tummy as he grins at each one of them. Even Jisung is nice, although his gaze stays too long at the way Jaemin’s hand is squeezing Mark’s waist, close and intimate, probably like how they used to be. Jaemin excuses them after about fifteen minutes of chatting away, and Mark sees Changbin wandering off to his other friends, and Mark hears a buzz on his phone to see Changbin bailing on their lunch plans.
“You made me cancel my lunch plans,” Mark whines a little. Jaemin’s hand is still on Mark’s waist, a constant reminder that he’s close, as if Mark needs that reminder all the time when Jaemin’s presence itself is already ovewhelming.
“It’s not my fault Changbin decided to bail,” Jaemin shrugs, and Jaemin drops his hand down, only to grip Mark’s hand, grinning beautifully. “I’ll bring you somewhere. C’mon, our first date.”
“Funny,” Mark says, squeezing Jaemin’s hand pointedly, and Jaemin laughs, running towards the entrance, towards his car, forcing Mark to quicken his pace. Mark can’t help but giggle as they run, and when they eventually do get to the entrance, Mark is greeted by the sight of Jeno just coming in. Jeno looks at him in surprise.
“Oh, hey, Mark,” Jeno greets, and his eyes drop down towards Mark and Jaemin’s joined hands, looking back up quickly, as if afraid of intruding on an intimate moment. Is it intimate? “I’ll talk to you later?”
“Uhm. Yeah,” Jaemin squeezes Mark’s hand. “Just text me, I guess.”
They get in Jaemin’s car, but their hands are not attached anymore. Jaemin hums a song as they wait for the engine to warm up. When it does, Jaemin turns on the AC and the radio. Mark puts on his seatbelt. Jaemin’s car is nice, too. A mercedes. Mark points it out to Jaemin as Jaemin reverses.
“Hah, yeah. Dad bought it for me,” Jaemin drives, to this Thai place Mark had planned to go with Changbin. Mark talked about this plan this morning during their free block, and Mark is surprised Jaemin even remembers. “Y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask--” Mark glances at Jaemin, an eyebrow raised in question. Jaemin glances back. “I know you sent Jeno a letter. I know you sent me a letter. What about the others? Did you only send two letters?”
Mark figures he really doesn’t have anything to lose. Mark shrugs. “Sent out four. Other two are to Donghyuck Lee and Renjun Huang.”
Jaemin whistles. “Four, huh?” Mark only hums in reply. “You’re really interesting, Mark. Did you know that?”
Mark only laughs.
-
When Mark yells at Chenle to get the doorbell, Chenle! It’s because Mark expected the person behind the door is one of Chenle’s friends. What Mark doesn’t expect is Jaemin walking into the kitchen, with Chenle following closely behind him. Chenle looks at Mark exasperatedly.
“That’s your boyfriend,” Chenle grumbles, and Chenle goes back to looking over the stove for their teriyaki chicken.
“Sorry,” Mark grimaces, as he strains the rice. Jaemin goes over to him, and plants a soft kiss on Mark’s neck, then another one on Mark’s cheekbones. Mark can hear Chenle groaning at the side, and Jaemin laughs into Mark’s ear. “Why are you here?” Mark leans in closer to whisper in Jaemin’s ear. “You said address is just for when we happen to need each others’ rides, liar.”
Jaemin turns to look at Mark, which now makes them close, too close, and Jaemin whispers back, intimate. “Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry,” Mark whispers back, maintaining the eye contact, and when Jaemin only continues to stare in Mark’s eyes, Mark has this sudden courage to lean in and boop their nose together, before dropping a soft kiss on Jaemin’s lips. Mark pulls away when Chenle lets out another groan. Despite that, Mark can still see a hint of fondness on his face that makes Mark grin. “Sorry, Chenle,” Mark says again.
“Whatever,” Chenle grumbles, but he transfers the chicken to their big ceramic bowl. “Are we eating in front of the TV today?” Mark shrugs at that, which basically means yes, and goes over to the rice cooker to pour the rice into it. Then, taking mineral water, and filling it up to the necessary water level. Chenle looks hopefully at Jaemin who is just watching Mark work around the kitchen. “You’re joining us?”
“If there’s more room,” Jaemin says easily.
“It’s just the two of us tonight,” Chenle replies. “Dad’s working until nine.”
“Cool,” Jaemin smiles, and Chenle gives a thumbs up at Jaemin before going over to the living room, waiting for Mark to start cooking the water spinach. Jaemin turns to Mark as Mark prepares to cook it. “It’s weird to talk to Chenle as your boyfriend.” Mark ignores the way Jaemin left out the word fake. “When I was with Jisung we barely talked. We talked more just now than we did when I was with Jisung.”
“Huh,” Mark only says as a reply, dropping the water spinach on the pan. “Is it a bad different?”
“Nah,” Jaemin says, and Mark makes eye contact with him to give him a soft smile before turning back to the saucepan. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“Just take out three plates and the spoons and forks,” Mark says, and Jaemin does. “Why did you even come here, anyways?”
Jaemin shrugs. It’s a Saturday, which makes this even weirder. It’s been maybe around two weeks since they started fake dating. It’s true that Mark has grown so inexplicably close with Jaemin, and maybe maybe they’ve grown too affectionate for each other. Mark doesn’t know if he’s the only one feeling like it, since Mark can’t read Jaemin, and will never be able to. “No one was at home. I didn’t really have anything to do. Figured you’re doing something fun, and I was right.”
“You call cooking fun?” Mark laughs, and after a few more minutes of stirring the water spinach is done. “You’re funny, Jaemin.”
“Sure it is,” Jaemin laughs, and he leans over the counter, watching as Mark pour the water spinach on another ceramic bowl, but this one is more wide. “You really know how to cook, huh?”
Mark shrugs. “Learned a lot after mum passed away. Plus, it’s not like I don’t enjoy cooking, y’know, so it’s whatever.”
“Must be nice,” Jaemin muses.
“What, to have a parent who passed away?” Mark jokes, and when Jaemin looks guilty and traumatised, Mark backpedals. “It’s a joke, Jaemin, it’s okay. Mum passed away like five years ago. It still hurts, but it’s okay. And I know you meant the cooking thing, chill dude.”
“How did your mum pass away?” Jaemin asks softly, and Mark sits down on the stool on the counter, the one across where Jaemin is leaning his body on.
“Hmm, cancer. Breast cancer,” Mark shrugs. “She passed away when Chenle was ten, and I was eleven. Chenle was adopted when I was, like, three, maybe? So Chenle was two. And yeah, that’s my family.”
“Huh, so he is really adopted, huh. I’ve figured his name sounds not Korean, but I thought it would just be rude to ask,” Jaemin muses, and Mark shrugs.
“You have manners!” Mark jokingly gasps, and Jaemin gives him a stink eye which Mark laughs at. “Sorry, I’m joking. We’re all chill here, really. Chenle knew he was adopted since he was, like, five? Mum and dad made sure that he knows he’s practically same blood. And he is. It doesn’t matter where he came from.”
Jaemin drums his fingers on the counter. “You really care about him, huh?”
Mark shrugs. “Kind of the only person I have in the world. And dad. The two people that truly matters right now.” Jaemin looks like he’s going to interject, but the rice cooker dings, signalling that it’s cooked. Mark exhales, getting up. “Can you call for Chenle? His room is upstairs, the second one on the left stairs.”
Jaemin smiles at him one last time, and gets Chenle. Mark turns towards the rice cooker, scooping out rice with a bowl to have a perfect round-shaped rice to the plates Jaemin picked out earlier. Jaemin picked out the teal one, with flowery patterns on it, the plates Mark likes the best. Did he really just give out his whole life to Jaemin comfortably and with minimal prodding from Jaemin? Yeah, he did. Mark feels weird. He knows he’s comfortable with Jaemin, but he didn’t know that he was this comfortable, that his whole heart poured every time he looks at Jaemin. He didn’t know Jaemin had this big of an impact on Mark. it’s definitely because of the letter.
Jaemin could’ve been this Maths classmate that Mark had a minimal but blown crush on.
But now, he’s here. In Mark’s house, bounding down the stairs with Mark’s brother, talking animatedly about the most recent football league.
They’re now taking their own plates, and Jaemin brings the big bowl of teriyaki chicken while Chenle brings the water spinach. Mark stands there, watching as they both disappear to the living room. Jaemin pokes his head back out. “Are you okay, babe?”
Mark takes his own plate, coughing. “Yeah, yeah.” Mark gestures to the fridge. “You can get anything you want. There’s only minimal Coke Zeros. Dad limits them each month, so Chenle might have even finished it.”
“That’s alright,” Jaemin laughs, pecking Mark’s cheek as he passes him to go to the fridge. “There’s two Coke Zeros. You want one?”
“No,” Mark replies hoarsely.
“Chenle might,” Jaemin shrugs, and he takes both of them, closing the fridge shut, and they both then go to the living room, settling on the living room’s floor.
“What movie are we watching?” Chenle says hurriedly, insistent on not touching his food until a movie is picked.
“Dunno,” Mark replies. “I’m okay with whatever.”
Chenle turns to look at Jaemin expectantly, and Jaemin, who is scooping out one of the chicken, shrugs. “Princess Diaries?” Jaemin looks at Mark in confirmation.
Mark only shrugs in agreement.
So they eat dinner while watching Princess Diaries.
-
It’s past eight, and Jaemin and Chenle were insistent on washing the dishes and sweeping the kitchen, so Mark stays in the living room, half scrolling through his phone, and half watching the movie. Mark feels the couch next to him dip, and Mark turns away from his phone to find Jaemin close to him. Chenle is on the other sofa, watching the TV intently. Jaemin leans in closer to Mark, and Mark takes that as an invitation to cuddle closer, too. Jaemin’s head is on Mark’s chest, and Mark could probably run his fingers through Jaemin’s hair. So Mark does.
“What time are you going home?” Mark asks softly.
“Whenever you want me to,” Jaemin replies honestly, sounding soothed by the careful brush of his hair.
“Now?” Mark mumbles jokingly, and Jaemin pinches his tummy for that, making Mark let out a chuckle. “I’m joking. But my dad will be here soon, you know.”
“Does he mind you having a boyfriend?” Jaemin asks, looking up at Mark. Mark shakes his head softly, and goes back to watching the movie. “Well, then, I’m staying. I’d like to meet him.”
“Whatever you want, Jaem,” Mark says softly, and they continue watching the movie. Soon enough, Mark hears their door being unlocked. The living room is dark, so their dad probably thought they were upstairs.
“Oh, hey, boys,” their father says as a greeting, not expecting people in the living room, and he plants a kiss on Chenle’s forehead that Chenle leans in to. His father then turns to Mark, looking even more surprised at the boy in his arms. Jaemin instinctively gets up. “Well, well. You’re Mark’s friend?”
“Boyfriend,” Jaemin corrects cheekily, the bright smile he uses to make people for his charms back on his face, and his tiredness and softness earlier gone, replaced by this bright energy. Mark thinks both energy are absolutely fucking lively. “Jaemin Na.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” his dad replies, and Mark makes eye contact with Chenle to simultaneously roll their eyes. “Thought Mark would never introduce me to you. Even Chenle had to be the one to tell me Mark has a boyfriend, you know.” his father gives a pointed look to Mark that Mark chuckles at. His father plants a kiss to Mark’s forehead like he did with Chenle.
“Your food is in the fridge. Just heat it up. There’s chicken and water spinach,” Mark says, and his father thanks them both before heading to the kitchen.
Jaemin returns back to his original position. Mark’s hand isn’t on Jaemin’s hair, so Jaemin takes it in his, and intertwines their fingers, Jaemin’s thumb out to caress Mark’s hand. “Your dad is nice.”
“He’s sort of the best,” Mark admits. Jaemin only squeezes Mark’s hand.
-
They’re sharing earphones again. This time, boy pablo is playing, and it’s actually Mark’s discovery a few days ago, and they both haven’t stopped listening to it ever since.
“Dumbass, your answer from the beginning is wrong because you used three significant figures from the beginning,” Mark chastises, and Jaemin just gives Mark a stink eye in return, laughing at his mistake, and rubbing out his answer grudgingly.
“One day, I’ll find a mistake in your working, Mark,” Jaemin promises, giving Mark a timid glare, and Mark only laughs incredulously, bumping their knees together. They both go back to working on the problems on the board, and Jaemin tucks his chin on Mark’s shoulder to take a look at Mark’s working when he’s struggling when he could easily just lean over like Mark does whenever he wants to look at Jaemin’s methods. “Are you doing anything tonight?”
“Nope,” Mark says, scribbling his answer. “Why?”
“I’m invited to this party by one of the volleyball guys and I want you to go,” Jaemin says bluntly.
“Party?” Mark crinkles his nose. “Like, party, party?”
“Yes, party party,” Jaemin laughs. “Please? I’ll pick you up. We’ll leave early.”
Mark shrugs, agreeing.
-
Mark is kind of freaking out. Party has never been Mark’s scene. They’re too loud, and there are too many forced talks that Mark doesn’t know how to deal with. It would just be so much better to stay home, curled up with his laptop, binge watching movies and shows. Mark knows Jaemin really wants him to come, which is the only reason why he’s going.
Mark bounds down the stairs to see Jaemin talking to his dad. Mark furrows his brows, taking a kitkat, breaking it apart, eating one bar, and giving the other one to Jaemin, which Jaemin readily accepts with his mouth open. “You didn’t have to come out of the car, you know.”
“I know, silly, I want to.” Jaemin counters softly, and Mark only gives a small smile in return, going to their water dispenser with a mug, taking a sip, and offering Jaemin the cup, which Jaemin also accepts. Mark quickly takes the mug after Jaemin is done drinking it, quickly washing the mug, finally facing his father, only to find him looking at them with this fond smile.
Mark tugs at Jaemin’s shirt. “We’re going, dad.”
“Have fun,” his dad hollers, and they both wave as they get in the car.
“You look nice,” Jaemin points out as he drives, and Mark blinks.
“Oh, you do too,” Mark says, but it comes out as a question that Jaemin laughs his ass off. They spend the rest of the short car ride trying to fit in whatever music they currently have in their playlist.
“We’re chill, okay,” Jaemin says as they pull up in the driveway. There are quite a few cars around that they have to park outside. Jaemin takes Mark’s hand quickly to stop him from exiting the car. “We’ll leave if you feel uncomfortable, okay?”
“Okay, Jaemin,” Mark laughs, and squeezes Jaemin’s hand. “You chill, you worrywart.”
“Sorry I care about you,” Jaemin says jokingly, and Mark knows it’s a joke, but it still ends up making Mark’s heart flutter, beating even faster than it ever needs to be. They both exit the car. It’s a big house, Mark notices, with grand entrance, and a fountain the middle that is so fricking unnecessary.
Mark leans in a little towards Jaemin. “Whose house is this?”
“Sanha,” Jaemin replies with pursed lips. “It’s fucking huge.” Jaemin looks at Mark with a fond smile. “Kind of like your house, no?”
“My house isn’t this big,” Mark counters, pinching Jaemin’s side.
Once inside, they’re greeted by a long hallway that’s empty, with an exception of a grand staircase to the second floor. Mark guesses when you walk further down, that’s where the party truly starts. Jaemin grips Mark’s waist, looking at him in confirmation. “Ready?”
“Uh, yes. Why do you keep asking, Jaem?” Mark laughs, amused, and when Jaemin doesn’t return his laughter, Mark looks at Jaemin’s expression to find him looking at Mark in confusion.
“Don’t you get anxious when there’s a lot of people?” Jaemin asks sincerely, and Mark feels his blood kind of freeze a little. Mark didn’t expect Jaemin to remember at all. That is one of the most mundane thing ever, and Mark wonders why Jaemin think it would be something worth remembering. Mark told him that the first day they started fake dating, anyways. Almost three months ago. Forever ago, practically.
“Oh,” Mark says, and Jaemin is still looking at Mark intently, so Mark nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t think you’d remember that about me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Jaemin muses, sounding so genuinely confused Mark is flustered. “Everything about you is important to me.” Mark only lets out a nervous giggle. Jaemin smiles again. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” Mark says, and he is. Because Jaemin is here, and he remembers.
-
One thing Mark picks up from the party is that pretty much everyone is convinced that Mark and Jaemin are together.
Second thing Mark picks up from the party is the fact that he knows Jaemin is fully over Jisung since his eyes have never even left Mark ever since they get there.
Third thing Mark picks up is that all of the other recipients of his letters are all here. But all Mark can focus on is Jaemin.
Fourth thing, when Jaemin dances like he thinks he’s cool, with no care at all in the world, he looks the most beautiful.
Fifth thing, it has been a long time since they’ve ever even talked about their fake arrangement.
Sixth, are they even faking at this point? Is Mark the only one genuinely invested? Or is Jaemin still faking it?
-
“You’re so stupid,” Mark yelps fondly, when Jaemin drops the cold butter down to the floor. “That broke.”
“It’s fucking butter, Mark, it won’t break,” Jaemin chastises, and Mark lets out a loud groan when Jaemin picks up the unwrapped butter from the floor. Jaemin gives Mark a grimace. “We can scrape off the part that didn’t touch the floor and butter then pan with it?”
Mark sighs, rubbing his hand on Jaemin’s nape. “Thank God you’re smart.”
“I try my best,” Jaemin says in a high pitched voice, and Mark can’t help but laugh. Mark then drops half of the stick butter on the pan, quickly heating it up, and Jaemin stands behind him, with his head tucked on Mark’s shoulder, and his arms around Mark’s waist. “How do you know when it’s time to remove from the fire?”
“When it bubbles,” Mark replies. “I think. That’s how I usually do it. The recipe doesn’t really say anything.”
“M’kay,” Jaemin mumbles, and he kisses Mark’s neck.
“Jesus, guys,” Mark looks up from the saucepan to Chenle dropping the keys on the counter, his friends, Donghyuck and Jisung following closely behind. “You two might as well be married.”
“Marriage is a scam,” Mark says absentmindedly, half jokingly, and Jaemin snorts at that, still having his head perched on Mark’s shoulder. “Hey, Donghyuck, Jisung.”
Jisung waves, and Donghyuck raises an eyebrow as a greeting.
“What are you guys making?” Donghyuck asks, and Jisung goes over to the water dispenser to help himself to some water while Chenle prepares snacks for him to bring to the living room so that they can play Chenle’s newly bought game.
“Brownies,” Jaemin replies, grinning. “We’ll give you guys some. Right?”
Mark only hums in agreement, transferring the melted butter from the saucepan to the large bowl. “Dude, put the car keys at the front. And don’t make the living room dirty, okay?”
“Kay,” Chenle says absentmindedly, and he takes the car keys and the tray he has set up, bringing them to the living room. Jisung and Donghyuck following after waving bye at Mark and Jaemin.
Jisung turns back just as Jaemin unwraps his arm to plant a kiss on Mark’s cheek, and to start mixing all the wet ingredients. Mark laughs at the cheesy kiss. Jisung watches all that, and finally makes himself known by coughing.
“You guys are really cute together,” Jisung says sincerely, and Mark laughs awkwardly, kicking at Jaemin’s feet. “I mean it. You two are lucky to have each other.” Jisung gives them one last awkward smile before darting off to the living room.
“Huh,” Mark says. “That was nice.”
“Mmhmm,” Jaemin agrees, and he starts adding the dry ingredients in the recipe. “I’m the cute one, obviously.”
“Funny.” Mark says, giving Jaemin a look. Jaemin replies with blowing flour to Mark’s face.
-
What does Mark do when the feelings he has for someone is literally so strong there’s nothing Mark can do about it? Mark writes letters. But it’s Jaemin. Jaemin who had already received a letter, and who gives the best kiss and hugs, who makes Mark feel so stupidly loved and content. Jaemin who has a soft spot for Mark is Mark looks closely, but if Mark pulls away, it would say affections are available for everyone. Mark doesn’t know.
Mark doesn’t know, and he still resorts to writing. Writing about how lovely Jaemin is. How Jaemin is one heck of a boy, and the only person in the whole goddamn world that makes Mark feel everything and more. How Jaemin is the only person who managed to break Mark out of the shell he didn’t even know he was in. How Jaemin had made Mark believe in love again when Mark didn’t even know he stopped believing in them ever since his mother died.
Mark writes, writes, writes.
I wish what we have is real.
-
Mark mailed the letter on Friday, right after Jaemin kisses him on his doorstep before driving off to help his mum grocery shop,
Mark receives a letter on Sunday. Jaemin had texted him all weekend, strangely not coming over, or asking if Mark’s free like he usually does every weekend which made Mark all jittery, but the fact that Jaemin keeps texting him comforts him in ways only Jaemin could.
It’s Sunday, and it’s a letter from Jaemin.
To Markly,
I was going to make fun of you for writing another letter. But then it crosses my mind: is this another old letter? Are you really genuinely confessing your..affections towards me, or are we stuck in a universe where everything comes back in full circle? But then I read further, and you talk about me in ways no one has ever before. You talk about me like I’m something special when I’m least from it.
All I’m saying, or what I’m trying to say is: I want it to be real. All of my love and affections towards you this whole time have been nothing, but genuine. I’m not a Literature student like you, Markly. I can’t write things that are flowery like you do, and I can’t make your heart flutter the way your words do to mine. But do know that these words come from the bottom of my heart, and I mean every words I say.
The moment you gave me that letter, I’ve always thought it was something close to serendipity. I was in a slump. Maybe you didn’t notice, maybe you did. I have never been as good as perceiving you as i do others. But when that letter came along, and you came along, it rekindles something inside of me. You make me happiest in ways no other person can. When you’re close, you kind of feel like home. I’m sorry I’m always around, and always quite literally clinging to you. But you do say that I give best hugs, right? Haha, sorry, I couldn’t resist.
Is this short? I don’t know. It is a full page, though, no?
All I know is: yes, let it be real. No fake, no nothing. Call me when you receive this, okay?
All my love,
Babylove. Hahahahaha.
-
Mark drives immediately to where Jaemin is. Mark knows Jaemin is currently at his house, so Mark keys in the address in Waze, trying to not bawl over the letter and also the Waze’s confusing directions. They texted all day--have been, ever since Jaemin went now-explained MIA on Mark. Well, as far as MIA goes, really. They did text from Friday to Sunday, so really--yeah. Mark arrives soon enough, and Mark runs out of the car, the letter in his hand, fiddling with it nervously. He has never been the one to receive letters before. Mark rings the doorbell, breath laboured. Bouncing on his tippy toes as he waits for the door to be opened.
Jaemin opens the door, confused, but his eyes light up when he sees Mark. Mark feels ridiculous for thinking that any other person has that impact on Jaemin. “Hey, Mark,” Jaemin says softly, leaning forward immediately to hug him, and when he pulls away to see the letter, he laughs nervously. “Oh, you got it. I thought they don’t deliver on Sundays.”
“Thanks for indulging me,” Mark mumbles under his breath, still bouncing on his tippy toes, trying to keep his nerves at bay.
“Indulging?” Jaemin asks in confusion, and takes Mark’s hand to link their pinkies together.
“You didn’t have to write a letter, you know. I wrote the letter because it’s the only clear way I can express myself,” Mark says, and Mark leans in closer, and Jaemin is grinning now. Fond. So, so fond.
“I wanted to. I thought you would like it,” Jaemin says, and with that, Mark leans forward to hug Jaemin.
“Stop being so nice it’s making me love you more,” Mark mumbles into Jaemin’s neck, and Jaemin laughs, incredulous, dropping his hand to Mark’s waist, tightening their hug.
“You love me?” Jaemin asks, cupping Mark’s face to look at him properly.
“I think I do,” Mark says, and he leans forward, kissing Jaemin, closing his eyes, and right before he does, he sees Jaemin closing his too, with the small whisper of I love you too.
END.
“It’s nice that it’s just the two of us,” Chenle says as another episode of the K-drama they’re watching now plays on the TV.
“Aw,” Mark says mockingly, but kicks at Chenle’s feet affectionately. “What, too much Jaemin lately?”
“Eh.” Chenle says. “I like him. I’m glad you have each other.” Mark only laughs. “Hey, can I tell you something?”
“Yeah,” Mark says absentmindedly, mind too invested in the drama.
“Promise you won’t get angry?”
“Yes, God, just spill.”
“I was the one who sent the letters out,” Chenle grimaces. “I didn’t send Donghyuck’s letter out at first because I have a crush on him. I’ll tell Donghyuck if you want for everyone to receive the letter. I’m sorry, hyung.”
Mark sighs. “I should’ve guessed.” Mark then shrugs. “Jaemin and I did get together after the letter, so I can’t really be too mad at you, y’know.”
“Oh,” Chenle says, relieved. “Thanks?”
Silence.
Silence.
“You know that means you’ll have to get me something super expensive for Christmas, right?”
“Fuck.”