Work Text:
Nothing had changed in the area that Mark and Hoseok go to get their hoettok and ice cream fix. While it had been harder to meet up there, as their groups had their own schedules, it was one of the few other routines Mark had in Seoul. After a day of getting over jet lag, after dinner, they’d meet up – schedules allowing it. On more stressful days of course, even at odd hours, they made it happen.
The dessert stand was near a convenience store, a chicken and beer restaurant, and a second-hand shop. The area was the cheaper end of the neighborhood, safe but away from the crowds that would recognize them.
Nothing has changed, Mark realized. Even the nature of their conversation, going from showing off new youtube videos of new hip hop acts and street artists, to snippets of life on the road that didn’t reach the gossip rags.
Mark liked the company of got7, but it was also work. As part of a group that had docu-series and who were strongly encouraged to curate their social media to millions of fans, sometimes it was hard to draw a line between work and play. He felt more like himself with Hoseok.
Nothing has changed in the area, but it felt like it had changed. They had been on that corner, leaning against the trunk of Hoseok’s car, going to the same dessert stand for months, but it was different that night. The stars were brighter and the colors were more vivid.
Hoseok was on what Mark had nicknamed “soft filter”. It had started almost several weeks after the hoetteok and ice cream habit. The most they’d wear as make up would be some powder on, and that was only if they met after a shoot. But even without make-up, even on days when Hoseok had a hair band on to keep his bangs out of his face, Mark would find his features so soft.
His fingers itched to touch him.
Hoseok, the neat freak, would sometimes automatically clean off the ice cream or crumbs that ended up on Mark’s shirt. In one of their earlier meet-ups, the start of the “soft”, Hoseok had gotten a towelette and wiped off some ice cream that had gotten by Mark’s lips.
“You could give someone ideas with that.” Mark had said.
As the internet meme would joke, ‘Me. I’m someone.’
“Ideas?” Hoseok asked, and noticed some of the ice cream stains below the collar. He got another towelette sheet and started cleaning up there, “You’ll want to soak this in mild solution when you get home.”
The ‘idea’ sat there and grew. It grew with every time Hoseok would arrive at the GotBang chill dinners they had since Namjoon and Jackson got together. Mark had begun to notice little things that he would normally not care about with other people – such as Hoseok’s fingers tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel at stop lights, how his eyes never seemed to stop twinkling, the tip of his tongue slipping out to wet his lips as he mulled over a thought. How he always smelled like whipped cream and scented antiseptic.
Mark wanted to be a part of every one of those details.
And that night, something in Mark wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
It was like doing tricks, Mark would remember. In one instance, you couldn’t overthink or delay it. Any shred of doubt down to the second would only lead to total wipe out.
He had spaced out, and suddenly Hoseok was facing him, towelettes in hand.
“Got some on your chin this time.” Hoseok said. Mark doesn’t even protest as Hoseok started wiping it off him.
So close.
“Hoseok...when we started this, I was saying you’d give other people ideas.”
Cue laughter. Mark was good at laughing off the awkwardness. Fans liked that, and it helped keep tempers in check when they were all to tired to think.
But he didn’t laugh.
In board speak - step and the kick.
Balance .
The defense mechanism hadn’t kicked in. Mark wasn’t laughing.
“I have this idea.” He said.
Hoseok had stepped away from him, and their eyes met. He waited for Mark to continue.
Kick to maintain speed on the approach.
“I got…I got this idea of us and it’s stupid. And you know I don’t overthink things. I really like your company.”
Hoseok was waiting.
“I like you,” Mark blurted out.
A tumble.
“I like you, not just…” His voice trailed, and his throat felt dry, but the words seemed to be pushing out of him, “Interrupt me or something, because I don’t know if I should finish that sentence.”
Jump.
A pause. One that felt like a full year before Hoseok spoke,
“Keep talking.” His voice was even. Mark couldn’t tell how he was feeling. His gaze remained steady.
And the last breath before the jump. Mark thought of the first time he managed to do an ollie.
“I don’t just like you as a friend,” And there it was, “But I can pretend this never happened for as long as we can stay friends.”
“Not as a friend?” Hoseok echoed, “I don’t want to assume, Hyung--”
“You aren’t assuming. I’m telling you.”
Land.
Hoseok blinked. Mark had never noticed that look on him before. The closest he’d seen it was when Hoseok had gone with Tae-hyung to the skate park, and he had watched how easily Mark and Tae-hyung had done more complex flips and tandem tricks.
Of the many love songs he’d heard and sung, there was at least passing mention of how confessions were a kind of freedom. So there it was, out there, free. And never mind if this particular jump gets him to eat the pavement. In the last five minutes, though it chilled him to the bone, Mark relished the high he got from being so sure of the words that came out. And even if he had to pretend it never happened, he would never take them back.
Hoseok took a deep breath, and started picking up their discarded food wrappers. He doesn’t look at Mark.
“Get inside.” He says softly.
Mark nodded and did as he was told, taking the passenger’s seat.
It wasn’t winter, but it had become chilly. He rubbed his arms, which were covered by the sleeves of his hoodie. Back to spacing out and not thinking. He’ll be heading back to the house that got7 shared together. Maybe he'll join JB as he mixed a new track in the studio, or a game with Bambam and Yugyeom. Worse comes to worse, he’ll just crash into his bunk -- unbothered by Jackson's sleep-talking in his own bed.
Hoseok got into the driver’s seat. He turned the key, and the lights of the radio turned on. But he doesn’t drive on just yet. Mark doesn’t look at him.
“Marku-hyung.” Hoseok calls.
Mark looked at him, then sees that he’s pointing at the radio. He had stuck the USB into its slot, and a list of tracks was onscreen.
Track 1 – Laugh.
Track 2 – Smile
Track 3 - Hoettok and Ice Cream Drip.
Track 4 – Chicken Rice Bowl
Track 5 – Two Shots of Soju
Track 6 – Skatepark
Track 7 – Walk
Track 8 – Hoodie
Track 9 – Hello Again
Track 10 – Passenger’s Seat
All mundane, part of things they’ve had and done together in the last few months.
Chicken Rice Bowl, from when Hoseok was ill and Mark popped by to check on him.
Two shots of soju, the most they’d have at parties because they didn't hold liquor very well.
The skate park, from one night when JB was in a foul mood, Mark had asked Hoseok to go with him so he could watch kids skate to unwind.
Hello again, he had greeted Hoseok in English playfully when they had come back from the Calling My Name world tour.
Passenger’s seat, where Mark sat.
They were beats, foundations for songs.
Laugh was playing, a lo-fi melody that had the riff of high synth notes. Mark recalled some of their happier times in the place they were in now, when he’d suddenly burst into laughter over one of the stories Hoseok shared.
The song faded out, signalling its end.
“I’m not good with words, hyung.” Hoseok said, his voice soft.
Mark looked at Hoseok and saw that his eyes were brimming with tears. He felt fragile as he reached out – gently wiping his tears away with his fingers, gently cupping the side of his face. He beamed as he did, and while Hoseok was shy about having their gazes meet, Mark insisted – looking right at him.
“Something there.” Mark said, “Let me clean that off for you.”
In spite of himself, Hoseok exclaimed in amusement.
“Marku.” He said.
And then, the finish, as Mark leaned in to capture Hoseok’s trembling lips with his own in a kiss.