Archive of Our Own ^beta

_

Tuesday.

Mark hums along to the music coursing through his headphones, tapping out the beat on his thigh as he walks. Stopping at the crosswalk, he reaches up and twirls the helix piercing in his left ear; it's new and he's still getting over the itchy phase of the addition to his collection.

The florist shop is open already when he walks by, typical for a Tuesday, and Mark waves a tattooed arm at the brunette inside the shop, but doesn’t stop in. He’s already late.

Jaebeom and BamBam have already opened the studio, the neon red sign flipped to OPEN with a little handwritten note beside it saying, “Now accepting walk-ins.”

“Hey,” Mark calls out, stepping through the doorway and pulling the headphones from his ears to flash a smile at his co-workers.

BamBam smirks at him from where he’s disinfecting a counter. “You’re late today, too busy helping lover boy with his flowers?” he teases.

Mark rolls his eyes. “I overslept and missed my bus,” he admits. He leans closer to the mirror on one wall and inspects his ear, making sure it’s not too pink.

“New piercing?” BamBam asks, glancing over at him.

“Yeah, I was bored last night and figured I’d add another one. I think this might be it for this ear though,” he shrugs, turning so BamBam can see.

“Looks good, man. I was thinking about piercing my belly button, any thoughts?”

“Is that just an excuse to wear more crop tops to work and show off for Yugyeom?”

BamBam’s mouth drops open, and he glances around to make sure the younger boy didn’t overhear them. Thankfully, he’s not paying attention. “Of course not! It’s a fashion statement, okay? I’m trying to break the norms.”

Mark smiles genuinely. “I’m only teasing, you know you can pull off anything Bam. I can help you with it later if you want.”

BamBam bounds over and gives Mark a side hug, squeezing him tight. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

Mark giggles, “Get off me you weirdo.”

BamBam flicks him on the forehead before heading back to his station.

“Any bookings so far?” Mark wonders, heading to the front counter and flipping through their appointment book.

“Skull at twelve, and the dragonfly lady at three,” Yugyeom replies, clicking away at something on their store computer. “But I put the sign up so we could get walk-ins.”

Mark nods and ruffles the boy’s fluffy hair. “Sounds good Gyeom.” He brushes a piece of his own dark blond hair out of his eyes. “I might get JB to add a filler to my sleeve later, so you can watch and learn.”

The boy’s eyes light up at the idea. “That would be great,” he nods, excitedly.

Mark smiles fondly at him before heading over to his own workstation and wiping down his tools for the day.

He hadn’t always wanted to be a tattoo artist, but he had always wanted to be an artist. Ever since he was young he always loved creating- taking a thought in your mind and transforming it into something real- making it come alive. Pencils and paper were fine when he was young, but he never made it past doodling in the margins of test papers. Canvas and paint took him farther, earning him many wins in local competitions, but he never got super into it. His passion, what he loved, was skin and ink.

Carving his art on people, adding his own personal touch and style to their ideas, producing something that, on a few occasions had brought people to tears, was the most rewarding part of his job. Something about the whole process of it, taking pain and using it, turning it into art- it’s beautiful. He’s never going back.

It’s how he met Jaebeom, actually. He had been on the train going to his old job at an electronics store when Jaebeom had got to talking to him about some of the ink he already had poking out of his shirt sleeves. Jaebeom was more than impressed when Mark told him that it was actually his drawing, he had just gone to a professional to get it inked. Jaebeom didn’t mind that Mark was kind of quiet, and they had fun showing eachother their own designs.

That was three years ago. Since then, they’d worked together at a studio on the other side of town. It had been a great experience, but Yuno was a bit of a know it all and didn’t give them the creative freedom they wanted, so they pooled their money with another artist- BamBam- and bought their little hole in the wall shop, working their asses off to get the proper equipment and licenses, and then started taking clients.

Four months in, and things were going as well as they could hope. They didn’t make a ton of money, but it was enough that they could all scrape by and still have enough to pay the bills. The customers were good, and they had built up a loyal clientele who would only stop coming when they had no skin left to fill, and by then they’d told all their friends.

Mark would be lying, though, if he said the best part of the gig wasn’t the location of the studio.

He lives close, only a bus ride away, but the real treat was that their tattoo studio was wedged in a row of busy business’, with a hair salon on one side and a florist shop on the other.

Mark loves the florist shop. He might be a little in love with the actual florist too.

Youngjae is bright and kind, with soft brown hair and a laugh that could make anyone's day better.

Every Tuesday after a new shipment of flowers arrived, Youngjae would bring in a small arrangement for their front counter because he thought the place looked too dark and uninviting without them.

He’d never charged the boys for the flowers, so Mark would normally repay him by helping bring the shipment in; except he’d been late today and missed out.

“So are you gonna go over and explain why you didn’t help out?” Jaebeom asks, coming out of the back room with a box full of new needles.

Mark shrugs, playing with a bracelet on his wrist. “He saw me walk past, he knows I was late.”

Jaebeom rolls his eyes. “Not the point. When are you going to ask him out?”

Mark flushes pink all the way to the tips of his ears. “I’m not. It’s a silly crush, so just drop it, okay?”

The taller boy laughs and salutes as he drops the box at his station and heads into the back again.

_

By time lunch rolls around, Mark has done a simple skull tattoo on an older man and has gotten Jaebeom to add a burst of perfect black stars between two of his larger pieces on his right sleeve.

Yugyeom had watched, fascinated, his big eyes wide with wonder. He only asked a few questions and at the end wondered if Jaebeom or Mark would mind if they showed him how to add some shading to the stars.

It would be a great learning experience for their newest worker, and JB was happy to keep working, so Mark just let it happen, opting to take a quick nap while Jaebeom explained the process to Yugyeom, putting complete trust in his best friend.

“All done,” Jaebeom calls, shaking Mark lightly to wake him up.

Mark blinks and ruffles up his hair, looking down at his arm as JB covers it with plastic wrap.

“Looks great,” Mark says quietly, humming in appreciation of his friend's talents.

Jaebeom nods. “Thanks. Now do I need to go over tattoo care with you?” he teases, making his voice higher at the end.

Mark flips him his middle finger, moving to pull his lunch from his bag, opening the noodles up and hopping on the waist high counter to sit with BamBam.

The bell on their door chimes and opens up a crack.

“Little help?” a voice calls. It’s Youngjae, holding a large vase of beautiful blue and purple flowers with rich green foliage.

Yugyeom is up in an instant, holding the door open wide for him. Youngjae flashes him a thankful smile and moves to the counter.

“Afternoon,” he says, smiling directly at Mark who almost chokes on his lunch, trying to swallow quickly enough to reply.

Youngjae laughs at Mark’s expression and sets the vase down, picking up the old one and putting it on the floor, out of the way while he moves the new one in place, turning the vase this way and that to make sure it has the maximum impact when people walk in the door.

“Hey Youngjae, they look good,” BamBam greets.

“Thanks, they’re Japanese lilies and Irises,” he explains,“And a few flax palm leaves, because why not?”

“It’s great,” Mark manages to get out.

Youngjae gives him a brilliant smile. “Thanks! I knew it would brighten this place up.”

Jaebeom looks between the two of them, who were still holding eye contact and smiling like idiots. He rolls his eyes and lets out a breath. “I’m going to go... stuff... backroom. BamBam, you’re with me!”

“Coming!”

“I saw you were late today,” Youngjae comments, once it was just the two of them, “Miss your bus again?”

Mark smiles guiltily. “Sorry, I overslept. Were you okay with the flowers by yourself?”

Youngjae waves it off. “Oh it was fine.” He flexes his muscles playfully. “Gotta put these bad boys to use at some point. And besides, Brian from the butchers across the street helped.”

Mark doesn’t know why, but that makes something cold spread across his body. It’s not like he has any ground to stand on. He wasn’t there, so Youngjae got someone else to help out. It makes sense, what with all the friends Youngjae has. Still, though, it’s always been him.

“Oh,” is all Mark can think to reply with.

The room becomes silent for a second until Youngjae fills it up with mindless chatter about his day. Mark smiles and lets Youngjae’s voice wash over him. He really is very handsome. The way his lips move when he laughs is everything Mark wants and more, he can only imagine what-

“Mark?”

Mark startles, realizing Youngjae had been waiting for an answer.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, sorry, must’ve spaced out. What were you saying?”

“That’s okay,” Youngjae says fondly, “I’m used to it. Anyway, I was just saying that I should probably get back…” He sighs, gesturing behind him to the door.

“Oh... oh yeah. Can’t keep the customers waiting,” Mark teases.

Youngjae nods, still smiling, and heads out the front door. As soon as he’s out of sight Mark drops his head onto the counter and bangs it twice.

“Stupid, stupid.”

“Try hitting it harder, I don’t think that’s helping you yet,” BamBam smirks, coming back out after giving the two their privacy.

Mark rests his forehead against the polished wood and groans, lifting his hand to give BamBam the finger.

_

“Well?” Jackson asks, his eyes bright with excitement. “Did you talk to him?”

Youngjae blushes but nods, trying to keep the grin off his face.

“And?” Jackson presses, looking eager as ever, practically falling out of his seat in anticipation.

“He was fucking gorgeous like he always is, and he said he liked the flowers, and that he was sorry he couldn’t help with the shipment today.”

Jackson grins. “See, I told you! He does like you. You just need to ask him out.”

The smile slips off Youngjae’s face. “He’s like, 100% straight, I know he is.”

“Did you explicitly ask him?” Jinyoung pipes up from behind the cash register.

“Well, no... but-”

Jinyoung quirks an eyebrow, giving him a patent ‘judgy’ face. “Then maybe you shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“But Jinyoung-”

“No buts!” Jackson interrupts, “He’s totally into you, silly. You need to ask him out. Or should I go drop something in front of him so you have to conveniently bend over to pick it up?”

Youngjae cracks a grin despite himself. “Shut up, you know that shit only works if you have an ass like Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything, but he looks decidedly smug from over in his corner.

Youngjae huffs. “I’ll go see him tomorrow, at lunch, he shouldn’t have any clients then.”

“Clients... sounds like he’s a hooker,” Jackson teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “Get back to work. The Kang wedding is Friday.”

“Shit,” Jackson curses. Big events like weddings paid most of their bills, but they were hectic and always left them exhausted. Jackson was a romantic at heart and loved love, he just didn’t love the indecisive husbands or control freak mother in laws. “Do I have to?”

Youngjae scrubs a hand over his face. “Unfortunately. Now, c’mon, move it.”

_

Wednesday.

“It was so hard but I got through it, and I'm better because of it.”

Mark nods along as the girl speaks.

“And I just figured it was a good idea. I’ve grown so much and gone through this transformation, so why not get a phoenix tattoo to represent that, you know?”

Mark hums in response, but she seems like she genuinely wants his input, so he gathers the thoughts in his head. “You’re really brave Lisa,” he says, “It’s admirable. And you could have gone the cliché route of a butterfly, but I like that it’s a phoenix.”

“Right!” she exclaims, “That was my main concern, a butterfly is so feminine and nothing against that, but I wanted something that was more personal, that would be taken seriously.”

Mark nods. “Trust me, when I’m finished with it, everyone will take it seriously.” He lifts his head from his work to give her a soft smile before returning to adding vibrant orange swirls to the fire emmenating off the bird's tail.

The phoenix was massive, stretching across her whole back, the beak near her neck, right where the top notch of her spine was, and the body stretching downwards, feathers and fire wrapping around her curves and ending at the hip.

This was the third and final session with her. The first he had done the outline, the second was filling and colouring, and today was shading and touching up all the fine details.

“Alright,” Mark speaks up, sitting back and looking over the work. “I think we’re done.”

Lisa twists to get a look in the mirror. “Oh wow,” she gasps, “It’s.. I’m... thank you.”

Mark’s lips curve up. Art is therapy, and no one can tell him otherwise. “You’re welcome. Let me get you wrapped up and then we’ll be good to go.”

She nods, wiping shyly at the unshed tears in her eyes while he covers her in cling wrap and tapes it down.

“Do I need to go over care instructions again?”

“Wash it with warm soapy water tonight, don’t cover it again. Then put the tattoo cream from last time on it twice or three times a day as needed to keep it moist and not dry out. No sun exposure and no soaking until it’s scabbed and healed,” she recites.

Mark grins as she pulls her shirt on. “Seems like you’ve got it covered.”

He pulls off his black gloves with a snap and rolls his shoulders, a little stiff from being hunched over for so long. When he finishes disposing the needles and cleaning his workstation, Lisa is just paying.

“Thank you again,” she tells him when she catches his eye. Her voice is wobbly, still slightly emotional. “This means a lot to me.”

“No problem,” Mark says sincerely, “I’m glad I could help.”

She rushes over and wraps him in a hug, closing her eyes. Mark hugs back tentatively, careful not to brush the fresh wound, but touched at her display of gratitude.

And this is it, this is the reason he wakes up everyday; to take broken people and listen to them, stitching them back together with soft smiles and sharp needles, moving the healing process along until they can show it off to the world. That they’ve gone through hell and only came out more beautiful.

_

Youngjae swears that if time moves any slower it won’t be moving at all, and they’ll all be stuck at a stand still. What was that saying? A watched pot never boils? Well he’s been watching the clock and maybe the same logic applies.

It’s not unusual for him to stop by during lunch and hang out with the boys in the tattoo studio, but he’s just waiting for the right time. He knows when Mark normally takes his lunch break and he wants to sync it perfectly with his half hour so that they have as much time as possible to talk.

He’s been trying to gather up all of his courage and shove away his awkward laughter in order to ask Mark out for coffee, or something that would signify that he wants to be more than just casual friends.

Jinyoung waves a hand in front of Youngjae’s face. “Hello, earth to Youngjae? Stop watching the clock. You still have fifteen minutes to go. Just help me finish this order and then you’re good.”

Youngjae groans but does as he’s told. Fifteen minutes later to the second, he grabs his sandwich and heads next door, leaving Jinyoung with a pile of chrysanthemums.

He pushes open the studio door, expecting to see Yugyeom behind the counter, but is instead greeted with Mark hugging a girl.

“I’ll come back soon,” the girl promises, pulling away from Mark and tucking her shiny hair behind an ear. She waves and then turns, shooting Youngjae a smile when she passes him on the way out.

Something ugly tugs on Youngjae’s heart, but he pushes it down.

“You hug all your clients?” he teases, hoping to make Mark laugh.

Mark ducks his head down and shrugs. “Only the ones with tragic backstories behind their tattoos.”

Yugyeom laughs. “And who leave their numbers for you?” he adds, holding the credit card receipt out for everyone to see. In neat cursive it says, For Mark xx, with her number underneath it.

Youngjae punches Mark’s arm lightly. “Someone’s popular.” He’s aiming for a joke, but it falls flat.

Mark hands the receipt back to Yugyeom. “She’s sweet, but I’m not interested.” He cranes his neck towards the backroom. “BamBam, you want Lisa’s number?”

“I already have it!” BamBam shouts back.

Mark turns to Youngjae. “Lunch time?” he asks, nodding his head towards the sandwich in the younger boy’s hands.

“Oh, yeah. I hope you’re not busy or anything,” Youngjae says, aiming for casual. He knows Mark isn’t busy. He timed it.

Mark waves him off. “Never too busy for you. C’mon, sit, you know you’re always welcome here if you need a break.”

Mark leads him over to the leather couch in the waiting area, flopping down into it. Youngjae follows suit and can’t help but sigh when he sits on the material. He’d been on his feet all day.

“Tough day?”

Youngjae shrugs. “Not as bad as tomorrow will be. We’re clearing out as many orders as we can since we have wedding prep all day tomorrow and then the delivery Friday morning.”

Mark makes a noise of sympathy. “Must be pretty draining. But hey, I mean, it pays the bills,” he offers, unwrapping his own lunch.

Youngjae nods and bites into his sandwich before launching into a horror story about his last wedding order. They talk (Youngjae talks) and eat (mostly Mark, he ends up finishing Youngjae’s sandwich on top of his own lunch) and before long the half hour is up.

Youngjae stares forlornly at the door. “Do I have to go back?” he pouts.

Mark’s breath catches in his throat. He loves watching all the facial expressions Youngjae makes, each one more endearing than the last. He could watch the boy for hours and not be bored.

“Yeah,” Mark nods reluctantly, “I’d hide you here, but I know Jinyoung would know exactly where to find you.”

Youngjae nods, blushing a bit at the fact that he’s always here. “Yeah.”

“You gonna be okay with tomorrow?” Mark asks.

Youngjae watches how Mark’s eyebrows scrunch in genuine concern, his blond hair falling into his eyes. “Yeah,” he smiles, “We’ll survive.”

“Come round on your lunch break. Don’t take it in there or you’ll end up working.”

Youngjae rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny that his mouth is kind of dry with how sweet Mark is being. “Yes mom,” he teases. He glances down at his watch and curses, getting up off the couch. “Damn, I gotta go. See you tomorrow, Yien.”

Mark freezes from where he’s standing up and wiping crumbs off his shirt. “Yien?”

Youngjae flushes bright red. “I... sorry. I saw your studio license the other day and it said your full name and...” he trails off, trying not to dig himself any deeper into the hole he had created. “It’s.. nice?”

“Mark hates being called Yien,” BamBam chimes in, shit eating grin on his face.

Youngjae frowns and Mark is quick to clarify, staring daggers at BamBam. “Only when you say it.” He turns back to Youngjae. “You can call me Yien,” he promises.

Youngjae smiles widely. “Are you sure?”

Anything. Mark would do anything to see Youngjae smile like that all the time. “Positive. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.... Yien.” Youngjae heads out the door.

BamBam holds onto his laughter as long as he can before he’s bursting out loud, doubling over and wiping the tears from his eyes

“What?” Mark demands, dazedly looking at the door that Youngjae had just exited.

“Yien, oh Yien,” BamBam sing songs, his voice obnoxiously high pitched.

If Mark rolls his eyes any harder he swears they’re gonna pop right out of his head.

“What’s all the fuss?” Jaebeom calls out as he comes out of the backroom.

“JB!” BamBam gasps, “You missed it, it was amazing!”

“What?”

BamBam waves his hands around, almost knocking over a tray of ink thinner. “Youngjae came over here to have lunch with Mark and he called him Yien, and the idiot gave him permission to do it.”

Jaebeom starts laughing. “He calls you Yien? That’s so sweet,” he says, trying to keep the smirk out of his voice.

Mark glares at them.

“Dude, he’s so in love with you, just ask him out,” BamBam complains, looking at Mark like it’s just that easy.

Mark pulls at a loose thread in his ripped jeans. “He’s really not. We’re just friends.”

Jaebeom and BamBam share a look.

“Fine,” BamBam holds his hands up in surrender, “Think what you want, but I swear, that boy is head over heels for you.”

Mark shakes his head and when a lady comes in asking for a nose piercing, he jumps on the distraction, getting her ready and cleaning the area.

“Mark,” BamBam says, once the needle is already in the woman’s nose and Mark is expertly replacing it with a little green stud.

Mark doesn’t look at BamBam. “Drop it.”

The skinny boy opens his mouth to continue, but Jaebeom shakes his head. The rest of the afternoon is pretty quiet.

_

Thursday.

Youngjae is up to his armpits in pink roses. He’s been carefully sorting through them, plucking out the petals that weren’t exactly perfect to ensure that the blooms were up to their standard. He and Jackson had spent the morning threading flowers onto wire and crafting pink rose crowns with little white flowers to cover the wire and fill the gaps.

“These are kind of cute,” Jackson smiles, placing one on his head.

Youngjae rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the grin off his face at how Jackson looks- a puppy with flowers in his hair.

He turns back to his creation. “As long as they stay in place,” he mutters and puts one on his head, adjusting it and looking in their small mirror. “They’re a good proportion, not too big and not too small.”

Jackson nods and snaps a photo of Youngjae while he isn’t looking. He grins at the screen. “This is going on Instagram.”

Youngjae’s mouth drops open. “You wouldn’t.”

Jackson’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “Oh you know I would.”

Youngjae runs through his mental list of blackmail material. “I’ll tell Jinyoung that you were the one who spilled coffee on his favourite sweater,” he threatens.

Jackson laughs loudly. “Jinyoung would never believe you over me. I’m his favourite. And besides, this is just payback for the time you ditched me in that restaurant.”

Youngjae groans. Jackson will never let him forget that.

In a last ditch attempt, Youngjae lunges for the phone and they squabble for a bit until he’s successfully deleted the photo. Then Jinyoung comes in and nags at them, so they eventually go back to weaving flower crowns, and when they're finished they start on the bridesmaid bouquets.

Jinyoung is busy confirming the drop off details with the venue, and taking other orders but he glances up at his coworkers. “Hey, it’s almost two, did you take your lunch yet?” he asks as Youngjae curls ribbons to decorate the bouquets.

The boy looks up, startled after being so focused on his work. “Oh.” He puts his scissors down when his stomach lets out a loud growl. “Oops.”

He grabs his food and heads out the door, waving to Jackson.

“Youngjae wait!” Jackson calls after him, but the door has already swung shut.

Oh well, he thinks. Hopefully the tattoo boys don’t make fun of the flower crown too much.

_

Mark is sitting cross legged on the countertop when Youngjae walks in the door. The bell rings on his way in, but Mark doesn’t look up, too engrossed in his drawing. He’s got a sketchbook in his lap, with a grey lead pencil in his hand, flying across the page in careful strokes.

His head is ducked down, blond hair messy, and he’s biting on his lip in concentration. Youngjae may or may not be having a heart attack. One of Mark’s sharp teeth poke out and catch at his lip ring and Youngjae has to swallow to keep himself from drooling.

He leans closer to try and get a look at Mark’s drawing but then Yugyeom is waving at him and calling his name. “Youngjae!”

Mark startles at the noise, immediately hugging his sketchbook close to hide it from view. He looks up at Youngjae, and all but gasps.

Sitting atop Youngjae’s soft brown hair is a pink flower crown. He looks stunning.

“I ...Hi,” Mark manages to get out, his tongue clumsy around the words.

For some reason, Youngjae looks equally as flustered as Mark feels. Mark uncurls his legs from under himself and hops off the counter, landing closer to Youngjae than he estimated. From this distance Mark can smell something sweet and sugary, and wonders if it's lingering from the florist shop or if it’s just the boy himself.

“Sorry I’m later than usual,” Youngjae says, “I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” Mark breathes out. The stand like that for longer than is strictly necessary, eyes roaming each other for different reasons. BamBam clears his throat and Mark snaps out of it.

“I was about to come over and make you take a break,” he jokes, trying to regain his mental footing. He walks over to the couch, Youngjae trailing behind him.

Youngjae smiles. “We’re almost done. I’m fucking exhausted,” he sighs, his stomach growling again. “And hungry,” he admits, taking out his lunch.

“And a pixy!” BamBam calls out from where he’s wrapping up a teenager’s leg.

Youngjae frowns at him, obviously not following.

BamBam grabs a fresh bottle of tattoo ointment. “The headband thing,” he explains, gesturing to Youngjae’s head.

The brunette’s eyes widen in horror as he reaches up and confirms that, yes, he is still wearing the damn flower crown. BamBam and Yugyeom laugh at the look on his face, but Mark just smiles.

“I think you look good, it suits you,” he offers quietly.

“He could be a woodland elf!” BamBam teases.

Mark shoots him a look that screams ‘be quiet if you know what’s good for you’ and BamBam wisely shuts up.

“A cute elf,” Mark promises, “Not like the ones in World of Warcraft.”

And Mark has managed to not only compliment Youngjae, but also mention one of his favourite video games, all in one sentence. Is he even real? “Thanks Yien,” Youngjae blushes, looking down at his kimbap.

Mark fiddles with his bracelet. “You should eat,” he encourages, and Youngjae is more than happy to comply, shoving a roll in his mouth.

The teenager from earlier walks out, a dragon on his leg and a smile on his face. “So Youngjae, you’re in here every day, when are you going to get a tat?” BamBam asks, flopping down on the arm of the couch next to Mark.

Youngjae shrugs. “When I stop being afraid of needles I guess.”

BamBam lets out a small laugh. “How can you stand being in here then?”

Youngjae tilts his head. “I mean I don’t mind the sound, and I can watch other people, but the idea of having a needle repeatedly jabbed into my skin...” he breaks off to shiver. “Nope, not my idea of fun.”

“But tattoos aren’t fun,” Jaebeom interjects, leaning over the back of the couch to join the conversation. “They’re a product of pain, time and effort. It’s about suffering for your art.” His voice is dead serious, but his eyes are laughing, and Youngjae knows it’s a joke.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not getting a tattoo. Besides, I know how much you guys charge. I don’t have that kind of cash spare.”

Jaebeom gives Mark a pointed look.

“Well,” Mark starts, his voice soft, making Youngjae lean unconsciously closer to him-

“We had a conversation and, since you bring us flowers and-”

“And grace us with your glowing presence, your elven-majesty,” BamBam salutes, playfully.

Mark throws the eraser clutched in his hand at him. “Since you’ve given to us without return, I’m happy to do a tattoo for you, for free.”

Youngjae stares blankly, before blinking a few times. “Really?”

Mark nods.

“Well, I-” Youngjae stutters, not sure how to proceed.

“You don’t have to, but if you get over that aversion to needles, I’d be happy to ink you up,” Mark promises earnestly. In truth, he hopes Youngjae will take him up on the offer, because his mind has been wandering towards the younger more often than not, and he’s created a few designs with Youngjae in mind.

Mark is looking at him so sincerely, his dark eyes glittering with so much trust, that Youngjae has to look away. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

BamBam pouts. “Boo!” he whines, but it’s ruined by the smile on his face. “You two are boring. I’m going back to work.” He stands up and pulls Jaebeom with him, dragging him away.

Mark shrugs. “Sorry about him, I’d say he was dropped as a baby but we all know he was thrown.”

Youngjae lets out a snort of laughter, throwing his head back. “That explains so much,” he giggles.

Mark smiles at the sight and moves an inch closer. “So are you-”

“Markkkk!” a loud yell interrupts them, along with the bell on the door.

Mark waves at the girl in the entrance. “Hey Joy,” he calls, “Two minutes.”

She nods, and leans on the front counter, talking with Yugyeom.

“I have to get back anyway,” Youngjae says apologetically, already standing up.

Mark’s smile falters for a second. “Oh, uhm. Okay. Will I see you tomorrow? I mean... are you at the shop tomorrow?” he asks, running his tongue over his lip ring nervously.

“Maybe, depends on how smooth the delivery and setup goes. If not I’ll see you Saturday,” Youngjae assures.

Mark nods and tries to breathe normally, contemplating his next move. “Okay.” He flashes his teeth and then thinks, fuck it, and decides to take a chance, bowling low.

“Until we meet again, Sir Elven King,” he jokes, making his voice even lower than normal.

Youngjae laughs and rolls his eyes before returning the bow, sweeping his hand dramatically. “Until we meet again, Royal Artist Yien,” he replies and turns on his heel, heading out the door.

The door clicks shut and Joy looks between it and Mark. “Are you fucking the pixy?”

Mark flushes bright red and he hides his face in his hands, groaning.

He needs new friends.

_

Youngjae was still giggling as he entered the florist shop again.

“Oh god, I know that look,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, already preparing for the headache that is Youngjae’s love life.

“He wants to tattoo me,” Youngjae blurts out.

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“He offered me a free tattoo and I don’t know, I know he’s shy, but he looked like he really meant it, not like it was just some off hand comment.” He looks to his best friend for help. “I have no idea what to do.”

Jinyoung takes pity on him and moves over, gently taking the flower crown off Youngjae’s head and leaning against the bench next to him.

“You like him, he likes you. He’s offering you something important to him. You told me once that when he’s tattooing he looks so peaceful and happy. He wants to do that with you.”

Youngjae frowns. “I’m scared of needles.”

“Even more reason to let him. Show him you’re willing to work through a fear for him. He loves his art and he wants to share it with you in the best way he knows how.”

Youngjae squints at Jinyoung, wrinkling his nose. “Did you become a motivational coach while I wasn’t looking?”

Jinyoung sighs so deeply that his hair ruffles with the gust of air. “No sweetie, I’m a man who has had to put up with your pining for months.”

“I have not-”

“Yes,” Jinyoung cuts him off. “You have been.”

Youngjae pouts. “Let's finish this order, I want them ready for the delivery truck tomorrow.”

Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose. One day he would succeed in getting those idiots together. One day.

_

Friday.

“So are you gonna to tell me about the pixy boy from yesterday?” Joy asks, wincing when Mark’s needle strikes a nerve over her rib.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” the boy replies, continuing to work.

“Please,” she huffs dramatically, “I’m not blind. He was adorable and you couldn’t take your eyes off him, not to mention the whole bowing thing?”

“Mark here is in love with flower boy,” BamBam jumps in.

“I am not.”

“You so are,” BamBam counters with all the attitude of a third grader.

Joy laughs. “That’s so cute, are you two dating?”

BamBam groans. “They would be if chicken legs over there had the balls to ask him out.”

Joy shrugs her shoulders, trying to make eye contact with Mark. “Just ask him out.”

Mark stays glued to his work, jaw clenched. “Can we not, please?” He spares a glance at Joy. “Besides, you’re getting married! We need to celebrate and talk about that,” he says, effectively changing the subject.

“You’re getting married?” BamBam exclaims, sliding over on his rolly stool.

“I am. You boys remember Jimin, the girl I brought with me last session?”

BamBam nods.

Joy’s eyes turn soft. “Yeah.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Joy winks. “Thanks," she smiles.

“So are we invited?” BamBam demands, already planning out a wedding outfit in his head.

“Of course, I followed you over to the other side of town to keep getting tatted by you boys, you’re totally invited. It’s just a small thing, like forty guests at most, but I can make room for you boys,” she promises.

Mark adds some more shading. “You guys got everything picked out?”

“Not yet. We have a venue and they do the catering so that's sorted, we just need to organise dresses, music and flowers.”

Mark smiles. “I know an awesome florist and I’m sure he could get you a good deal,” he teases.

“Yes, the Elven King! He can do my flowers,” Joy nods. “Will you come with me and help me pick some out? I’m useless at this shit.”

Mark stops working and looks up at her. “You want me to help?”

Joy shrugs, “Sure, I mean you’ve known me for ages and you’re one of my closest friends.”

Mark ducks his head to try and hide the slight blush on his cheeks. “Of course I’ll come with.”

“Also gives him a chance to perve on his lover boy,” BamBam adds.

Joy snorts a laugh and tries to cover it up with a cough when Mark digs the needle just a tad deeper than necessary.

_

Youngjae has the delivery truck full and ready to go by 8am. By nine he’s at the venue, Jackson back behind at the store in case they have any walk-ins.

He delivers all the flowers to the venue, having the mother of the bride sign off on them and thank him profusely for such gorgeous blooms. Youngjae charms her with his smile and thanks her for her kindness, getting to work setting up the table pieces and laying out the flower crowns with their matching bouquets for the bridal party.

By the time he’s done and drives back to the shop, it’s almost midday.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Jackson asks as soon as Youngjae walks in the door.

Youngjae gives him a big grin and hands over the receipt for their files. “It was perfect Jackson. Everything was pink and white, and I even got a look at the bride’s dress and it was gorgeous.”

Jackson smiles- everyone at the florist shop are truly hopeless romantics- filing the receipt away and hands Youngjae a glass of water. “You look like you need it.”

“I need some food,” Youngjae whines.

“I just came back, Mark is tattooing at the moment, but I’m sure he won’t mind your company,” Jackson winks.

Youngjae rolls his eyes at the comment, but he finds himself getting up anyway. “I’ll just stick my head in. I won’t be long.”

Jackson holds his hands up. “Take all the time you need. I’m fine here.”

_

Mark is just finishing up the major shading on Joy’s abs when Youngjae comes in. His eyes light up when he sees Youngjae at the door, and Youngjae pretends that it doesn’t make his heart flutter.

“Youngjae,” Mark exclaims, motioning him over, “How are you?”

Youngjae grins, subconsciously fixing his hair before grabbing BamBam’s unused rolly stool and dragging it over to where Mark is working, making sure he isn’t in the way before sitting down.

“I’m tired. I can’t wait to go home and sleep,” he replies.

“Sleep?” Joy smiles. “It’s a friday night, love. You’re young and gorgeous, go out and have fun.”

Youngjae blushes at her words. “Thank you. But I just got off a busy week and I’d love to go home and play COD. Maybe I’ll go out with Jackson next week. Besides I have to open the shop tomorrow morning at eight.”

“Ouch,” Joy winces, both at the early open time and at the needle poking into her side.

Mark gives her a small smile. “You wanted it on your ribs, embrace the pain,” he teases.

Joy sticks her tongue out at him.

“How much does it hurt?” Youngjae finds himself asking as he watches Mark effortlessly swirl colours into her skin.

Mark looks up for a second to flick Youngjae’s knee softly. “Get one and find out,” he whispers.

“It hurts but it’s a different kind of pain,” Joy explains. “At first it’s this sharp stinging pain that makes you think “I can’t do this”, but after a few minutes the pain sort of fades into the background and it becomes really cathartic. An hour in and you don’t even feel it anymore.”

“An hour?” Youngjae gapes, eyes wide.

Mark shakes his head, not turning away from his work. “They take different amounts of time depending on the size and detail. Simple ones might only take twenty minutes.”

Youngjae nods.“Where hurts the least?” he asks, directing his question at both of them.

Mark shrugs. “Anywhere with more flesh than bone. Shoulder, calf, upper back.”

“Thigh,” Joy adds in.

“ASS!” BamBam shouts from across the room.

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “I’m not getting a tattoo on my ass.”

“So you’re getting a tattoo?” Joy prods, interest peaked.

Youngjae looks down at his shoes. They’re dirty from days spent in his garden. “Maybe. I’m thinking about it. I have no idea what I’d even get though.”

“You should get Mark to design something for you!” Joy gushes enthusiastically. “He’s really good at taking ideas and bringing them to life.”

Mark blushes and adds an extra layer of highlight ink.

“Well he’s the only one I’d let tattoo me so I guess that makes sense,” Youngjae says distractedly, too busy looking at Mark’s side profile as he leans over Joy.

Only when Mark looks up and catches Youngjae’s eye, his canine teeth poking out cutely, does Youngjae realize what he just said.

“Oh god,” BamBam groans from his station.

Youngjae turns his beautiful brown eyes away at the sound and Mark whips his head around to glare at BamBam. The younger boy only smirks.

Youngjae spends the next half an hour watching Mark infuse Joy’s pale skin with deep blue and bright fuschia. He covers it for her and they stand up together.

“I’ll see you later, and remember we have that flower date tomorrow,” Joy reminds Mark as she pays.

Mark smiles. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Youngjae feels his stomach drop.

Date.

It’s not like he’s particularly surprised, after all he was pretty sure Mark was straight, but it’s just- now he knows, and that little drop of hope he had been keeping for himself, protecting, despite his doubts, has finally evaporated, leaving him dry and cracking.

“You okay?” Mark asks, eyebrows pinched in concern at the change in Youngjae’s expression.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, just a little distracted,” he stutters.

And Mark is an expert on deflecting conversations when he doesn’t want to talk to people, so he recognizes it when Youngjae pulls the same trick on him. He puts a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder and squeezes gently.

“Why don’t you head back to the shop, make sure Jackson hasn’t burnt it down, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Youngjae smiles in relief at the out Mark is giving him and nods, waving on his way out.

Even after Youngjae leaves, Mark stands for a second, breathing, because the air around him still smells sweet, like lilies.

_

Saturday.

Mark makes sure to keep his schedule clear around lunch time, blocking out twelve until two to pick out flowers with Joy. He knows it won’t take that long, but he’s hoping they can somehow draw it out so he spends more time with Youngjae.

Youngjae had been a bit weird yesterday, and the more Mark thought about it, the more he had a sinking suspicion that it was because of him, but he's not sure why. He hopes it’s just himself over thinking things as usual.

Finishing off a brilliantly coloured koi fish, Mark gives the care instructions to the young lady and watches as Yugyeom puts through the payment before shaking the girl’s hand and waving her off.

He comes up behind his friend, placing his hands on Yugyeom’s broad shoulders. “How’re you doing Yugyeomie?”

Yugyeom shrugs and sniffles a bit. Mark spins Yugyeom’s chair around so that he’s facing the older boy. “Gyeom?”

Yugyeom rubs at his already red eyes. “I’m fine.”

Mark frowns. “Did that kid from your class say something again?

Yugyeom nods almost imperceptibly. Mark’s jaw clenches. “Do you want me to talk to him? You know I wouldn’t mind going to scare him off. We can even bring JB if you really want him to piss himself.”

“It’s okay Mark, it was nothing,” Yugyeom placates, grabbing Mark’s hands to calm the older boy down.

Mark tries to soften his features. “It’s not nothing,” he sighs, rubbing his thumb over Yugyeom’s hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Yugyeom shakes his head.

Mark gives Yugyeom’s hand a squeeze. “Alright. But you know I’m always here for you, right? I know we give you shit and tease you because you’re the newbie, but we do care about you.”

Yugyeom gives him a small smile. “Thanks Mark.”

Mark ruffles Yugyeom’s hair. “Anytime. I’m gonna see if Joy is here, I’m off until two.”

Yugyeom nods. “See you.”

_

Joy is waiting out in front of the florist’s, oversized sunglasses on her face and a coffee in her hand as she looks at some of the hanging flowers outside the shop window.

“Hey baby,” Joy greets, smiling at Mark when she sees him.

“Ready to find some wedding flowers?”

“You know it!” she giggles and links arms with Mark, pulling him inside the shop.

The front counter is empty when they enter and Mark looks around before calling out, “Hello?”

“Yien?” Youngjae replies, sticking his head out of the refrigerator room. In all the times they’d spoken to each other, it was always outside or at the tattoo studio, never once in the florist shop. Mark sticks out like a sore thumb, the black and red ink pouring down his arms and trickling up his neck contrasting harshly with the soft petals and vines all around him.

Youngjae loves it.

Until, he sees who Mark is with.

“We’ve come for expert advice,” Mark says, looking at Youngjae.

“We need wedding flowers,” Joy informs him, her black hair in annoyingly perfect ringlets. “I don’t want white though, that’s too traditional, and we’re not a traditional pair.”

“Tell me about it,” Mark teases, thinking about all the extravagant things the couple has done.

Joy swats his arm before turning back to Youngjae. “I’m hoping for purples or blues, I know they’re kind of hard to get but Mark promised you were the best and I have complete faith in you.”

Youngjae’s brain finally catches up to what’s going on and his stomach twists uncomfortably. Not only was Mark straight, but he was getting married. Actually no, scratch that, not only was he getting married, but he hadn’t even bothered to tell Youngjae he was getting married.

Youngjae swallows thickly, blinking to clear his eyes of the unshed tears and nods, trying to calm himself, compose himself.

He can do this. He is a professional.

“Sure, classic purples are Irises, they’re always a favourite because they can be in white with a purple centre, like this,” he says pulling out a large folder with photos. “Or they can be purple with yellow centres like this.”

Joy claps her hands together, tugging on Mark’s arm. “Oh, Mark! Look at how pretty the white and purple ones are!”

Mark isn’t really listening. He swore to himself that he would be attentive and actually help Joy pick out flowers, but Youngjae is right there with his brown fluffy hair and big round eyes, and hey, he’s only human. His gaze falls to the curve of Youngjae’s lips. “Very pretty,” he agrees.

“Okay,” Joy nods, jabbing her finger on the page, “I totally want them, but I need something to contrast. Maybe something blue?”

“Blue, alright, let's have a look.” Youngjae flicks through the book, until he finds the page he’s looking for. “Okay, blue flowers are kinda pricey because most of them need to be treated or dyed because strong natural blue is just too rare.”

Joy nods along.

“So we can do blue hydrangeas, orchids, cornflowers, sunflowers, and daisy’s,” Youngjae continues, twisting the book around to show her the page filled with blue flowers.

Joy looks them over, scrunching up her nose. “What do you think?” she asks Mark who had been quiet for a long while.

“I like the orchids,” he says, “They have the same kind of open-y thing as the other ones.”

Joy rolls her eyes. “I like those too, but really? Open-y thing?”

Mark blushes a little. “I don’t know what it’s called”

That makes Youngjae break out in a small smile. “It’s called a pollinia. So how many would you need, are they for bouquets or for decoration?”

“Six bouquets for all the bridesmaids,” Joy confirms.

“Would you need any corsages for the men?” Youngjae asks.

Joy raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Not really unless my dad wants one.”

Mark laughs too, like it’s some inside joke. “No,” he directs at Youngjae, “No corsages, just the bouquets.”

Youngjae wants to disappear into the ground, but instead he picks up a pencil and writes down prices and grabs a calculator, doing quick math. “So they’d usually come to about this,” he says, pointing at the number, “But I can drop it to this,” he points to a significantly smaller number, “for a friend’s discount.”

Joy lets out a high squeak and ditches Mark’s arm in order to hug Youngjae.

“You’re the best Elven King ever!” she cries happily. “Thank you for this, really. Mark! He’s perfect! You should bring him,” she hints.

Mark turns red. “I’m sure he has better things to do than go to a wedding he supplied the flowers for.”

Youngjae nods. “Sorry, weddings aren’t my thing, but congratulations,” he lies, playing with the hem of his shirt. Flowers, and pretty clothes, and free food? What’s not to like?

“Awe that’s too bad,” Joy pouts. “Anyway, where do I sign? I wanna get this organised and then I’m stealing my main man for lunch.”

They complete the paperwork, and every line Joy signs feels like a nail being pounded into Youngjae’s heart.

Mark is quiet, observing as he always is, and he can see how uncomfortable the florist is. He wants to ask what’s wrong, but he knows he can’t, not with Joy around.

“Hey why don’t you head out, I just want to talk to Youngjae for a sec,” Mark suggests.

“Sure babe,” Joy calls, already typing away on her phone, “I’ll be in the cafe on the corner.”

Mark nods. He waits until the door closes all the way and then turns to the Youngjae. “Are you okay?”

Youngjae can’t decide if he wants to throttle Mark or surge forward and cry in his arms. Maybe both. Of course he isn’t oh-fucking-kay. He’s been lied to and strung along for the last few months and now he’s stuck supplying flowers for the wedding of the man that he’s stupidly in love with.

“I’m fine.”

Mark doesn’t buy it. “Is this because of the flowers? You didn’t have to give us a discount, your prices are always reasonable compared to other places...”

“It has nothing to do with the money,” Youngjae snaps, “I’m always happy to help out friends.”

Mark takes a small step back at the tone of Youngjae’s voice, brushing his hair back nervously. “We all have bad days,” he says softly, reaching out to hold the younger boy’s hand.

Youngjae snatches his hand aways. “I’m having a great day.”

Mark tries to find his sunshine, his flower boy, but all he sees is the angry lines of Youngjae’s frown and it makes him angry too. “Look, I don’t know what I did wrong, but I hate that you’re mad at me. I’m gonna go now, but if you want to tell me what the hell your problem is, I’ll be next door.”

Confused and upset, Mark leaves.

_

Monday.

“And you just let him leave? Without setting him straight?” Jinyoung fumes.

“He is straight,” Youngjae replies sadly.

“Don’t get smart on me now. He comes in here, rubs this shit in your face when he knows how you feel and you didn’t correct him? Didn’t tell him where to go?”

Youngjae shakes his head. “What’s the point?” he wonders, “He’s just a dumb boy who doesn’t care about my feelings. I don’t want to make things worse.”

Jinyoung is furious. “You know what? I’m going over there.”

“No you’re not,” Youngjae glares, blocking the door, “This isn’t your concern, it’s none of your business. My personal life has nothing to do with you. Leave it alone and do your job. That’s all I want.”

Jinyoung frowns, wanting to make it better, but he knows when to quit, especially when his friend looks so upset. “Okay,” he nods and moves over to Youngjae and wraps his arms around the boy, hugging him.

“I’m sorry. I won’t cause trouble,” he promises.

Youngjae whimpers, hugging him back, trying to swallow his tears. How can you mourn the loss of someone you never had? But, fuck, here he is, crying over a boy who never cared- not the way Youngjae wants him to.

Jinyoung just holds Youngjae, rocking him slowly until the sobs subside. He hands Youngjae a tissue and lets him clean his face before tilting his chin up with a finger. “Look at me. You’re amazing, you know that right? Any man would be lucky to date someone as kind and handsome as you. You will get through this.”

Youngjae sighs. “I know. I just need time to go from seeing Mark everyday, to seeing Mark- a married man- everyday.”

Jinyoung rubs his back. “Take a few days off then, spend some time at home in your garden. Jackson and I can hold the fort.”

Youngjae closes his eyes for a second. “Maybe I will,” he considers. He’d been meaning to dig up those bulbs and turn over the soil to replant anyway.

Jinyoung nods, and gives Youngjae a final pat on the back before straightening up. “Now help me sort through the carnations and then we’ll call it a day.”

Youngjae’s lips twitch up in what Jinyoung will count as a smile.

_

Tuesday.

Mark makes sure to be early on Tuesday, setting an extra alarm so he doesn’t fall back to sleep, and taking the early bus into work. He couldn’t stop thinking about Youngjae all night.

Mark had never heard Youngjae use that tone of voice or seen him act so cold. The residual annoyance from yesterday has worn off completely, leaving Mark slightly confused but mostly concerned. You never know what’s going on in someone’s life- what if something bad had happened? More than anything he just wants to see Youngjae, talk to him.

The supply truck is already in front of the shop when he gets there. Only this time, Youngjae isn’t there to unload it, instead it’s Jinyoung, the guy he works with.

He goes over to help anyway, waving as he jogs up. “Hey.”

Jinyoung barely spares him a glance to acknowledge his presence, and keeps taking crates out of the truck.

Mark grabs a crate himself. “Is Youngjae in?”

Jinyoung doesn’t look at him. “He’s taking some time off. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Mark hops in the truck, nudging a large crate closer to the edge so it’s easier to lift. “Oh,” Mark says slowly, “You mean today or...”

“At all. He might not come back,” Jinyoung snaps, prying the crate out of Mark’s hands forcefully. It’s not true, Youngjae loves his job, but Jinyoung is petty, and the look on Mark’s face is worth the lie.

Mark feels his head spin and he has to focus not to stumble. “Not coming back,” he repeats to himself before looking into Jinyoung’s cold glare. “Why? Is he okay?” he worries, trying to keep the rising panic at bay.

Jinyoung stops unloading completely and his lip curls. “Youngjae’s business is exactly that, Youngjae’s and not yours. Leave him alone.”

Mark takes a step back, unconsciously fidgeting with his sweater sleeve. “He’s my friend. I just want to make sure he’s okay,” he replies softly, his voice coming out small.

Jinyoung puts his hands on his hips and goes in for the kill. “He’s not your friend and he never was. Stop stringing him along and go back to your own life,” he spits, grabbing the last crate and yanking the truck door down. He turns on his heel and heads into the shop, leaving Mark in the dust.

He stands there, wondering what he missed. Youngjae didn’t think of him as a friend?

But he came over almost every day for lunch. He brought them flowers, and smiled so prettily, and laughed at all of Mark’s bad puns. He can’t have been imagining this. Could he?

The little voice in Mark’s head - the one that makes him crave the pain of a new tattoo a little too much, the one that makes him drink more than he should on Friday nights, the one that won’t let him sleep at night- tells him that he was just a distraction. That Mark was a dumb boy who fell in love and delusionally convinced himself there was something when there was nothing.

Fuck.

He needs to do something now, or else he might start to believe the little voice.

With a sigh he turns and unlocks the door of the studio, flipping the switch on the sign so that neon letters glare back at him. OPEN.

_

“What are you moping about?” BamBam asks, nudging Mark as the older boy scribbles angry lines into his sketchbook.

Mark burrows further into his sweater and shrugs.

Jaebeom’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is this about Youngjae?”

Mark shrugs again.

“For fucks sake. Use your words dumbass.”

Mark looks up at him through his eyelashes, his pencil stilling on the page momentarily, “Apparently Youngjae was never my friend and he’s avoiding me.”

BamBam sighs dramatically. “What did you do?”

Mark scoffs. “Why do you assume I did something?” he demands defensively.

BamBam picks at his chipped nail polish. He’s not getting paid enough to deal with Mark’s pathetic love life. “Because you’re an idiot. Tell me what happened.”

Mark huffs and tells BamBam and Jaebeom the whole story, starting from when Youngjae came in to see him on Friday while he was tattooing Joy, and ending with this morning.

Jaebeom stares at him.“You’re even dumber than I expected,” he tells the blond. “You need to go and apologise to Youngjae and tell him you’re in love with him.”

Mark is just about fed up with everyone insulting his intelligence because he finished with 96% in calculus thank you very much, and he starts to protest. “Apologize? I haven’t even done anything, what the fuck am I supposed to aplogize for-”

“Idiot,” Jaebeom says again, cutting him off, “He thinks you’re dating Joy.”

Mark opens his mouth, but all the words he could say dry on his tongue as he takes a second to actually consider his friend’s words.

“Oh,” he says quietly, realization sinking into his bones, “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right,” BamBam nods, getting up and leaving Mark to his own thoughts.

_

Friday.

Mark spends three whole days trying to figure out how he’s going to make all of this up to Youngjae.

On Wednesday he hoped Youngjae would be back, but realistically he knew he wouldn’t be yet. On Thursday he kept an almost constant vigil at the door when he wasn’t tattooing, watching and hoping the florist would turn up. By Friday afternoon Mark was still Youngjae-less and more distracted than usual.

A few of his regulars noticed that he was distant while he worked. He wasn’t a big talker, but he was always an attentive listener, and would chime in with his input occasionally. Now he couldn’t even find it in himself to nod along to whatever was being said.

Jaebeom and BamBam stage an intervention late Friday when Mark is all packed up and about to head home.

Jaebeom locks the door and stands in front of it with his arms crossed, probably trying to look intimidating. Mark frowns and glances behind him to see that BamBam and Yugyeom have arranged their rolly stools in a circle.

Jaebeom’s eyes soften and he points at a chair. “Sit down, we need to talk.”

Reluctantly, Mark turns and drops his bag, slumping down into a chair, avoiding the eye contact of the two youngests.

_

Saturday.

Youngjae had spent his week trying to ignore and forget everything involving Mark.

The past few days had been warm, and he spent them in his garden, watering, pruning and turning over the soil. By the time Saturday rolled around he was calmer, and had sort of accepted the fact that he could live without Mark’s friendship. He did it before and he could do it again.

Of course, that all came crashing down when he showed up to open the flower shop and saw Mark sitting there on the doorstep.

_

Mark’s leg jiggles up and down incessantly as he runs over the meanings and symbolism in his head again.

Damn. Is he sweating? He might be sweating. What if he got all the meanings wrong and he accidentally tells Youngjae that he hates him or something? Fuck. Maybe he should google it again, there’s still some time if he has to change the-

“What,” Youngjae says from above him, mouth frozen open.

Mark stands up so fast his head spins. “Oh, uhm, hi,” he stutters, thrusting the flowers into Youngjae’s hands. “I hope I got the meanings right.”

Youngjae studies them carefully, his brain eager to take this distraction so he doesn’t have to look directly at Mark yet.

“Purple hyacinth,” he says, more to himself than anything, “You’re sorry and want forgiveness. Sunflowers, you are a valued friend. White violets, let’s take a chance.”

His breath leaves him as he looks at the last flower. “A single rose. Love.”

He tears his eyes away from the flowers and looks at Mark. “I don’t understand,” he says stubbornly, even though he kind of does.

“I’m sorry,” Mark whispers, his voice shaky. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sorry Youngjae. You didn’t deserve what I put you through. It’s my fault because I’ve been too chicken shit to tell you how I feel. I didn’t... I didn’t know you would assume I was with Joy, because I thought…” he trails off, running a frustrated hand through his hair, “I figured you knew how I felt about you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Youngjae yells, on the verge of tears, confusion and realization and denial all weighing down on his shoulders.

“I’m not dating Joy!” Mark yells back, the loudest Youngjae has ever heard him. “I never was. I’m not marrying her, or anyone. I... I’m gay, and she’s also gay, and I’m so in love with you it’s stupid.”

He’s breathing heavy, the air thick after his confession.

Youngjae stares, awestruck by what Mark had just said. “I...” he starts, unable to finish the thought.

“Could we maybe, go out sometime?” Mark asks, expression hopeful, voice so sincere.

“I don’t know,” Youngjae admits, his mind all over the place. “I don’t know what I want, or what I think I want, or anything. I just, I need time.”

He pushes past Mark, grabbing his keys to open up and heads into the shop, closing the door firmly behind himself so Mark can’t follow.

_

Tuesday.

By Tuesday- a whole 48 hours of agony after his confession- Mark still hasn’t heard anything from Youngjae.

“Maybe that’s his answer, he doesn’t want to see you?” BamBam offers, attempting to be helpful.

The expression on Mark’s face breaks Jaebeom’s heart. “Don’t be cruel BamBam,” he scolds, before turning to Mark. “He loves you too, kid, but you did kind of pull a 180 on him there. Just give him time.”

Mark wants to scream, or cry, or maybe go for a really long run, but instead he settles for groaning and turning back to his sketchbook. He’s been spending all his free time working on small simple designs for Youngjae, just in case the younger changes his mind about the tattoo.

He wants it to be simple- less lines means less pain for Youngjae- but still beautiful and complete. He’s drawn flowers, geometric designs, little otters and dogs, a moon, you name it. Close to twenty designs all for Youngjae.

If he ever decided to speak to Mark again.

“Dude, go get some food,” BamBam nudges the eldest, bringing him back to the world around him and out of his own head.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Put down the damn sketchbook and go get some food,” Jaebeom orders from where he’s shading a tiger face on some guy’s bicep. “I know you haven’t eaten in days.”

Mark glances between the two and sighs, knowing he can’t win between them both. Dropping the book to the table he stands, cracking his knuckles and heads to the door.

“Hey Yugyeom, you wanna come with?” he asks, poking at the younger boy as he passes.

Yugyeom nods eagerly and grabs his bag, racing after Mark chatting happily about some of his own designs he’d been trying.

As soon as they’re out of sight, Jaebeom nods at BamBam, and grabs Mark’s book making a beeline for the Florist.

_

“What do you want?” Youngjae sighs. Really, he’s been lucky that the boys have left him alone for so long. He fully expected to see BamBam, or Jaebeom, or even Yugyeom yesterday, but they’d all been good and kept their distance. Until now.

“Look,” Jaebeom says frankly. “I’m not going to pretend I know what the fuck is going on between you two, but I thought you should see this. You’ve got about twenty minutes before he realizes it’s missing.”

He sticks his hand out and thrusts something into Youngjae’s arms. Reluctantly, Youngjae takes the object and turns it over. He recognizes it immediately. Of course he does- where Mark is, his trusty leatherbound sketchbook is never far away.

He brings his head back up to say something to Jaebeom, but the older boy has already left. He runs his hand over the worn edge of the book. This is a huge breach of privacy, isn’t it?

“Oh just open it!” Jinyoung grumbles, glaring at him before turning back to the arrangement he’s doing.

Youngjae swallows thickly, afraid to open the book, as if it’s contents could burn him. Slowly, he flips to the first page.

It’s a realistic human heart with a needle sticking into it, all in black pencil. Instead of blood pouring out of the heart though, it’s flower petals, bright red and haunting. Youngjae knows this tattoo, he’s seen it on Mark’s collar bone numerous times thanks to the baggy clothing the older boy always wears, the blood petals trailing down his chest in clusters.

He hadn’t realized that Mark had designed it himself. He squints to try and read the chicken scratch under the sketch. sensitivity isn’t a weakness.

Fuck. Youngjae already knows he’s in too deep. He flips through countless pages of insanely detailed and heartfelt sketches, all annotated with messy writing and arrows and numbers that Youngjae can’t make sense of, in a perfect storm that’s so Mark it almost hurts.

He stops when he sees something more recent. It’s the phoenix he’d seen Mark do a few weeks ago, Lisa: born again from the ashes, fierce like fire, written crudely in the top right hand corner.

The sketches stop after another few pages, but there’s more at the very back. Pages and pages of smaller ideas, moons and rivers and woodland creatures. Simple and beautiful.

It takes Youngjae a while to realize they’re for him. That Mark had been drawing him designs this whole time, just on the off chance he’d accept. He painstakingly reads every scribbled note, follows every smudged arrow. He gasps when he reaches a full page sketch of himself.

He’s wearing the stupid flower crown from the wedding, his head tipped back and eyes scrunched up as he laughs at something. It’s gorgeous. So much so that Youngjae can’t believe he’s looking at himself. It’s so lovingly drawn, emotion poured into each stroke, and Youngjae hopes for a second that one day he’ll see himself as beautiful as Mark seems to see him.

Youngjae slams the book shut.

Jinyoung jumps at the noise. “You okay?”

“I need you to hold the fort,” Youngjae replies, determination clear in his voice.

Jinyoung smiles knowingly. “Take your time, I’ve got it here.”

_

The bell chimes as Youngjae walks in the studio’s front door, but no one turns to greet him.

“You know how important that sketchbook is to me, so seriously, where the fuck is it?” Mark is spitting, glaring at Jaebeom.

Jaebeom’s eyes are wide and he looks slightly guilty before he catches sight of the man in the doorway, and promptly throws him under the bus. “No idea, ask him,” he says, pointing behind the blond’s shoulder.

Mark turns, fully ready to ready whoop BamBam’s ass, but instead, he finds himself face to face with Youngjae.

“Oh,” he mumbles, staring like an idiot before his eyes travel down the length of Youngjae’s pale skin and land on the book- not just a book, Mark thinks, but his soul, his soul manifested on paper- that the man is carrying.

“Where did you find that?” he demands, his voice low, and harsher than he means it to be.

“It doesn’t matter,” Youngjae says, looking into Mark’s almond eyes. “I’m here for a tattoo.”

Mark’s mind floods with thoughts, swirling sickeningly but moving too fast for him to grasp at just one. “What?” he manages to stutter, confused and as eloquent as ever.

Youngjae flips open the book to a picture of a half bloomed Iris. It’s beautifully drawn. But it’s the writing that matters.

for youngjae, my first true love; iris - trust, hope, wisdom

“I want this one in bright red,” he tells Mark, “And I want you to do it.”

Red. Mark thinks of his own tattoos which are limited to exclusively black and red ink. His lips curve up, parting and letting his canine teeth poke out.

“Are you sure?”

Youngjae’s heart is beating out of his chest. “Yes.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” Mark warns, his eyebrows creasing in slight hesitation.

Youngjae resists the urge to reach forward and smooth out the lines, settling for grabbing Mark’s hand. “That’s okay. You’ll just have to bring me more flowers,” he teases.

Mark squeezes Youngjae’s hand, his dark eyes boring into Youngjae’s soul. “Well in that case,” he moves to his station, sitting on the rolly chair and patting the client seat.

Youngjae takes a deep breath, moving to sit. “I’m ready.”

It’s about more than just the tattoo, more than just today.

Mark closes his eyes for a second, just to savour the moment. His head is empty, only YoungjaeYoungjaeYoungjae playing on repeat. Mark prays that this isn’t a dream, that when he opens his eyes Youngjae will still be there. Mark flutters his eyes open.

And there Youngjae is, warm and bright and here, waiting for Mark.

“Me too.”