Archive of Our Own

Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

I can't let you go now that I got it.

— BØRNS, "Electric Love"

.

"I got your mail!" Dejun announces a little breathlessly as he balances a pile of packages and letters against his chest, blindly kicking off his shoes at the door. A pair of hands ghost over his own for a second, freshly painted red nails and all, and unceremoniously shove the pile onto the floor so that Mark can lean in and tug at the front of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss. "Oh, um— hi to you too?"

"Hello, gorgeous," Mark replies with a cheeky smile as he leans back. "Thanks for the mail, that was really sweet. I ordered a new skirt last week, do you want to see it?"

Dejun nods, crouching down on the floor so he can help him collect the fallen mail. Five months ago, when he moved into a shoebox apartment near his new university, one of Dejun's seniors had texted him a phone number saying that he'd might hit off with Mark Lee, and, well, he supposes he trusts Johnny's judgement a lot better now. Mark might just be the best thing this city has to offer — he's funny, he's smart, he's gorgeous, he has bright pink hair and both of his ears pierced. Dejun might as well call him a dream when he allows himself to. "Was it the one with the pockets that you talked about the other day?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Mark hums. He goes over the letters as they move to the living room, muttering under his breath; Dejun sets two packages on the coffee table and sits down by the leather couch Mark's pushed under a window. "Geez, where are my manners, do you want something to drink? You look like you ran all the way up here."

"I did, actually," Dejun replies, chuckling. "The elevator was under maintenance."

"Again?" Mark discards the letters carelessly before heading to the kitchen. He comes back with a glass of iced water that Dejun gulps down in two seconds — he, for one, should consider going back to the gym if it means he'll want to die after climbing up four flights of stairs. "You poor thing. When I can't use the elevator I simply don't leave or come home, for that matter."

Dejun lets out a laugh, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand, and Mark smiles proudly at himself as he plops down on the couch by his side, reaching for one of the packages. He struggles at opening it and Dejun pries it out of his hands before he ends up biting the tape off, and Mark bounces on his seat in expectancy. Once Dejun hands him the skirt, he leans in and presses a loud kiss to his cheek before getting up.

"I'll be back in a minute. Pick a movie for us?"

"Okay, but don't complain this time."

He knows for a fact that Mark will, and they'll probably bicker over it until none of them want to watch a movie anymore and find something more interesting to do — admittedly, as soon as Mark disappears inside his room, he gets comfortable on the couch and zaps through Netflix without paying much attention to it. It comes back to the fact that Mark really must be the best thing about this entire city, and Dejun really enjoys spending time with him. They click just fine ever since Johnny managed to get the both of them inside the same room and Mark complimented his makeup; it ended up with them making out at a bathroom in someone's house and later on taking over an empty room.

Now Dejun knows the route to Mark's place by heart even though he still gets lost in public transportation — he likes it like this. He settles for some random new release and watches the trailer with half a heart, but Mark is back in quick steps, standing in front of him with his hands on his hips.

"How do I look?" he asks with a big smile, then shoves his hands inside the pockets. "It has pockets!"

"It looks really good on you," Dejun replies wholeheartedly. He watches as Mark spins on his feet, clearly enjoying it; it's a simple, black midi skirt that makes Mark's waist look impossibly tiny, and he politely tries not to stare.

Mark makes a show out of kicking invisible enemies. "I feel very free," he admits. "I think everyone should wear skirts, don't you think so?"

If everyone looked like Mark does, maybe. Dejun doesn't voice his thoughts, but Mark doesn't give him a chance to — he walks over to him and braces one hand on Dejun's shoulder, climbing onto the couch with a knee and sitting down on his lap. Dejun's hands naturally wander to his waist, and Mark flashes him a smile. "Did you really like it?" he nods. "I only bought it so you could take it off."

"You did not," Dejun replies with a laugh. "You never do shit like this for anyone."

"That's your word against mine," Mark argues. He cards his fingers through the hairs on the back of Dejun's neck absentmindedly. "So, how about you do your part of the deal now?"

Later on, Dejun curses under his breath as he slips off Mark's skirt onto the floor, kicking it to the side so he can pick his bag from where it's thrown near the couch, and Mark's phone rings absurdly loud somewhere, Avril Lavigne startling the shit out of him. "Turn it down," Dejun asks, and Mark lets out a loud laugh as he rolls off the couch lazily, searching for his phone on the floor. He doesn't want to pry on Mark's call, so Dejun heads to the kitchen to get a drink before he leaves — normally he'd stay over, but his theatre crew has a rehearsal scheduled around dinnertime. Dejun observes the corny magnets on Mark's fridge as he sips on a glass of orange juice.

In the living room, Mark lets out a squeal; Dejun looks back to find him tripping over himself and picking his skirt from the floor, slipping it on. He talks quickly with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, gesturing excitedly in front of himself, and Dejun lets out a chuckle as he heads to the sink to wash his glass.

"Hey, I'll get going now," he tells him, and Mark looks up from where he was collecting the mail he left scattered on the coffee table.

"Already?" Mark pouts, tucking the mail under his arm as he walks over to him, pulling Dejun to a quick kiss. He's often more touchy-feely than Dejun would expect him to be, not that he's complaining; he's learned to get used to Mark Lee's wandering hands. When they meet up at uni, he's more reserved. "I have to put this away real quick, but I'll walk you--"

Dejun shakes his head and smiles. "It's fine, really. See you around, Mark."

Flashing him a smile in return, Mark squeezes his shoulder slightly. "See you!", and then he turns around in his heels and rushes to the corridor that leads to his room. Dejun takes it as a cue to get his shoes by the door. He's just finished slipping them on when the door opens, almost knocking him to the ground, and through it enters an angel—

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," the angel extends a hand, offering him a kind smile. "Are you alright? I'm Jaemin."

"Um," he replies eloquently, wary of taking the other man's hand and finding out he's hallucinating. He's never seen someone use a diamond choker along with sweatpants and a simple white shirt. "It's fine, I— Dejun? I mean. Yeah. Hi."

Realizing that he was holding onto Jaemin's hand for too long, Dejun retrieves it quickly. He doesn't even mind that he got hit by a door because Jaemin smiles just so brightly — who is he? Why do people like this even exist? Before Dejun can embarrass himself any further, Jaemin asks: "Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes," he insists, nodding. "I better get going. Um, nice to meet you? Bye!"

"Bye bye," Jaemin replies rather softly, turning around to watch as he pretends not to be bolting down the corridor. Dejun will not look back, and it's only when he hears the familiar sound of Mark's door closing that he allows himself to breathe. What the fuck. Had he known Mark's friends looked like supermodels… He doesn't even know what he's thinking.

Once the elevator's doors open, Dejun steps in and catches sight of himself in the mirror, and obsessively tries to pat his hair down. He can't believe he just met a stranger while looking absolutely debauched and— wearing Mark's greasy band t-shirt? How great.

.

So Dejun was not thinking about it, but maybe he was.

"Mind if I ask you," he tells Mark during lunch, as he watches Mark pour an absurd amount of cheese onto his pasta. "Who's that cute-- who's that guy that came over when I was at your place?"

Mark's eyes double in size, which means they come close to the size of the Moon, and then he raises an eyebrow: "Minnie?" he laughs. "Oh, he mentioned you! I completely forgot about it."

"He… did?"

Mark nods, quietly offering him some pasta, and Dejun politely declines with a nod of his head. "Yeah, he said he knocked you off your feet," precisely. "With my door. What the hell, right? Jaemin has a thing for barging into rooms, I guess. When we were dating, he'd simply show up out of nowhere and—"

Dejun blacks out as soon as the word dating is thrown onto the table, and it's like he's seeing Mark under a different light right now. Admittedly, his pink hair looks brighter under the artificial light of their uni's cafeteria, but it is more than that; of course, if someone were to date Mr. Supermodel, it'd be Mark. Look at him! He looks like those beautiful people you can find on Pinterest when you're looking for new hairstyle ideas. When they met, Mark had just dyed his buzzcut in flowery patterns — "I just found out my head is such a strange shape, so I had to do something" —, and he enjoyed putting stickers on his face. He is like this, and Jaemin is like that, and it's clear that Dejun won't be able to take the idea of them dating off his head now.

"— So that's how we walked into our friends making out not only once, but twice," Mark concludes, waving his bamboo fork around. "Like, I'm sure Jeno has forgiven me already, but I'd rather not step on her toes again. She's, like, super tall and could bench press me any day. I bet she can carry her two girlfriends over her shoulders."

"Aha," Dejun replies. "I see."

Mark raises an eyebrow at him. "You're not interested in hearing about my girl, big space in between the words, friends. Would you perhaps be more interested in Jaemin?"

"No," Dejun replies firmly, and Mark kicks him on his shin under the table. "No, he's your ex. This feels illegal."

"So what?" Mark gestures between the two of them. A bit of tomato sauce flies from his fork to Dejun's shirt, and Mark leans over to clean it with his napkin. "We're not even dating, and it's Minnie. I'm legally allowed to talk about him at any time. Did you find him gorgeous, gorgeous?"

"Maybe? I mean, he is very beautiful."

"And?"

"And what?" Dejun shrugs, looking down at his meal. "And nothing. I talked to him for five seconds."

Mark nods, calmly putting his cutlery down and patting the pockets of his oversized jacket. He pulls his phone out and waves it in front of Dejun's face. "Do you want his number?"

"For what?" he repeats: "I talked to him for five seconds. God."

"You don't need to call me God," Mark smiles teasingly. "But if you're into that, I mean… I could be, too."

Dejun kicks him under the table in retaliation, and Mark's bottom lip juts out as he holds his phone close to his chest. He lists the various reasons why Dejun would like to get Jaemin's number, starting from the fact that he is very gorgeous, he's an Engineering major, he has a big— "Heart," Mark nods, failing to twirl spaghetti on his fork once again. "Among other things. You know, I could be your wingman, just say the word. I think Jaemin would adore you."

Though Dejun knows that there are no strings attached when it comes to what he and Mark have, it's still funny to think that Mark is trying to set him up with his ex. He supposes Mark is just like that; Dejun wouldn't expect him to behave differently. "Like, I can totally teach you how to woo Jaemin," Mark adds, and this time Dejun frowns at him. "I mean, if you want to date him. He's pretty much boyfriend material."

"You're a very weird guy, did you know that?" Dejun comments instead, because it's true. "Do you— are you serious? Why?"

Mark nods, propping his chin up on his hand. "No reason at all. I just think you'd look good together."

Dejun can't say he doesn't get flustered at that — though he knows objectively that he is, say, good looking, he thinks of Jaemin's supermodel looks and wonders why exactly Mark thinks they'd be a good match. And don't even get him started on clashing aesthetics; Jaemin wears pink chokers with diamonds on it, and Dejun spends most of his time in the morning putting black eyeshadow on, or learning how to nail red winged eyeliner. "And," Mark raises a finger, which means there comes trouble. "I bet he thought you were very charming. I know Jaemin like the palm of my hand."

"That's not as reassuring as you think it is," Dejun replies, though mostly half-heartedly. "I don't know, Mark. I don't even know him."

"You weren't this shy when you jumped me at Jaehyun's party."

"That was— Mark Lee. That was different."

Mark raises his hands in surrender, though giggling softly to himself. "Just saying. It's actually cute that Jaemin's got you flustered, I've never seen you like this. Let me know if you want to get to know him, okay?"

Dejun doesn't think it's cute. He, for one, thinks it's a little ridiculous — he doesn't get like this over people, especially over strangers. It's simply not natural. Back at his hometown, he had no problem finding people to hook up with, or to date for that matter. Things were simple with Guanheng, and just as simple with Yukhei, and even simpler with both of them… The list goes on. He's not one to get shy, and he's definitely not one to get flustered because of Mark Lee's ex-boyfriend, of all people. When he goes home later that day, after his daily rehearsal, Dejun sighs audibly as he takes his makeup off, rubbing cotton over his eye with too much force, muttering under his breath just how much this isn't right.

.

The second time he sees Jaemin, Dejun is nursing a bottle of beer and kicking at his own boots in a frat house somewhere, and his eyes double in size at the sight of the other man's silk dress shirt.

It's been weeks since Dejun last saw him at Mark's apartment, and now every time he comes over, Mark has a brand new Jaemin fact for him: what Dejun remembers the most is that he is, indeed, a model. A real one. The kind that has deals with brands and can afford to show up at parties wearing fancy pyjamas that are probably worth more than Dejun's apartment. It makes all the sense in the world, honestly.

"Hellooooo, Earth to XJ?" Yangyang asks, snapping their fingers in front of his face. "Are you drunker than you're telling me? Please, don't die."

"I am not going to die," Dejun tells them decidedly, though he looks around in search of Mark to be sure of it. "I just remembered something. Do you, by any chance, know anyone named Jaemin?"

Yangyang lets out a giggle: "Are you talking about Na Jaemin? Of course. Everybody knows him."

Though he wants to point out that there could be many people named Jaemin in their campus, but Yangyang knows better than to let it slip. They nudge him on the ribs with one bony elbow. "Why, though? He caught your eye? Get in line, Dejun."

Scoffing, Dejun pushes them away. Yangyang kisses the tip of their fingers and presses them to his cheek before slipping into the crowded dance floor. Dejun loses track of Jaemin's silk pyjamas, so he resorts to drinking the rest of his beer in just one go. Yeah, of course, Jaemin probably has a long, long list of people wanting to be with him. It's not like he could ever stand a chance… If he wanted to. Which he doesn't. Dejun pushes himself off the wall he'd been lying against and heads to the nearest trash can to get rid of his empty bottle, stumbling into a few known people on the way.

He hasn't been here for long, but Dejun likes to believe he's in good hands. The idea of transferring universities was terrifying once — he's this close to graduating, and wouldn't want to risk jeopardizing it —, but a change of scenery has been doing wonders for him. The theatre crew welcomed him as if he'd been here the whole time, he has Yangyang and other artsy people to hang out with, he has cool seniors and, well, he has Mark. He honestly doesn't need anything else, Dejun believes. He nods and smiles and chats because the night is still young after all, and so is he.

"Hey, I've been looking for you," mutters a voice against his ear. Dejun doesn't need to turn around to know it's Mark, judging by the familiar squeeze on his shoulder. He leans into his side out of habit, accepting the joint Mark offers him. "Jaemin is here." He adds.

"Yeah, I know," Dejun replies after he takes a drag. He motions to hand it back but Mark points at the rolled joint he's stored behind his ear, so Dejun doesn't mind finishing this one on his own. "I saw him."

"You saw him?" Mark echoes. His hands press slightly to Dejun's hips, face dangerously close. "What did you think?"

Dejun raises an eyebrow: "Wouldn't you like to know, huh?"

Mark smiles sheepishly, and Dejun backs him up against a pillar, successfully knocking over some of the frat's decoration. "I'd like to know that, yes," Mark replies nonchalantly. "A penny for your thoughts on him?"

"I don't think about Jaemin."

Rolling his eyes, Mark pokes at him with long fingers until Dejun is laughing, trying to step away, but Mark pulls him back by the belt loops of his pants. They make out lazily until the joint in Dejun's hand burns out completely, and then a little bit more — he'd be more than happy to stay here and let Mark bite his lip ring playfully all night, but they eventually part to get more drinks.

He likes partying with Mark, as he's great company and an even better dancer. When they head to the dance floor, Dejun let's his hands rest on Mark's waist, over the patch of skin between his skirt's waistband and his shirt, the one Mark has cut messily to improvise a crop top. He toys with the hem of the binder underneath and Mark slides his hands into his hair — everyone else is dancing to a different rhythm, which only makes them look like fools, but he doesn't mind. He'll happily sway around the room while Mark presses small kisses to his jaw.

"I think I want to smoke another one," Mark tells him at some point, as he plays with the hairs at the back of Dejun's neck. "Join me?"

He should've known Mark is very sneaky— when he guides him outside, to the garden, the first thing he lays his eyes on is Jaemin sitting cross legged on a lounge, laughing at something Huang Renjun just said. Dejun must've expected them to share a social circle, but he's still taken aback by it; Jaemin looks far too ethereal to be here anyway.

Definitely not discreetly, Mark pushes him in the direction of the free space by Jaemin's side as he sits down with Jeno on the floor, one of her arms wrapping around his shoulders protectively. Dejun is not awkward, nor was he raised in a barn, so he ignores the way Mark wiggles eyebrows at him suggestively and sits by Jaemin's side without making a fuss. The latter turns to him with a bright smile.

"We meet again!" he says, with eyes the size of the Moon to rival Mark's own. Dejun's only partially haunted by both pairs. "Dejun, right? You're Mark's friend."

He nods. "Hi, Jaemin."

They do not have a chance to make small talk, as there was already conversation going on. He chats a little with Renjun, who's sitting closer, and takes his time to observe the rest. He has never talked to Jeno a lot, but she's a sweetheart; one of her girlfriends is a fellow actress in Dejun's crew and he sometimes sees them together at the entrance to the Performing Arts Department, and she's Mark's best friend after all. He cannot bring himself to stop talking about her; they chat among themselves in a quiet tone as Mark lights up the joint he'd been saving, his voice ever so laced with laughter. Of course, there are also Donghyuck and Yangyang, who are joined at the hip — a nightmare for everyone else, the fact that they simply click. Dejun is not oblivious to the fact that Donghyuck is smitten, but he wonders if Yangyang knows; they probably don't.

He looks away from them before Yangyang notices, and accepts the joint when Renjun passes it to him. He takes a long, long drag and then passes it along to Jaemin, who smiles beautifully as he takes it from his hand and hands it to Donghyuck right after.

So he doesn't smoke — for the entirety of their sweet time, Jaemin chats and laughs and delivers the joint from him to Donghyuck until it's almost finished and Yangyang asks if they can do the honors. As Mark rolls up another one, Dejun lets himself lean back on his hands and takes a deep breath, feeling relaxed and lazy. At some point Renjun gets up, claiming that he wants to dance, and takes Jeno with him by the hand. Since Yangyang and Donghyuck are in their own little world, Mark scoots closer to the two in the lounge, looking up at Jaemin with a mischievous grin: "Bet you can hold this with your eyelashes," he says, lifting up the unlit joint.

Dejun lets out a laugh. Mark is insane, but Jaemin shrugs, taking it from his hand, so that he can only lean in to watch. He hasn't noticed before, but he does now: Jaemin has impossibly long eyelashes, and he urges Mark to be quiet as he lifts the joint and—

"No way," he finds himself saying, and Jaemin gestures to his face, a pleased grin on his lips. He's able to equilibrate the thin joint on his eyelashes for a few seconds before it eventually falls, and he hands it back to Mark.

Mark turns to Dejun: "Jaemin is a man of many talents."

"Shut up," Jaemin laughs, waving it off. "You're so silly, Minhyung."

Dejun wants to comment about Mark's Korean name, but can't bring himself to it — he gets distracted by Jaemin's face, his elegant features, his perfectly tousled dark hair, his eyes the size of the Moon. Of course, it is all coated with honey, Dejun doubts he'd stare so boldly if he was sober; but he'll allow himself to do this a little. He's not hurting anybody. When Jaemin turns and asks about him, Dejun smiles: "I'm an actor."

"A very good one," Mark points out, the joint between his lips. Jaemin widens his eyes:

"Is that so? Any movies I'd know?"

"I find my place on the stage, actually."

Jaemin nods. He asks him about any upcoming plays, they talk musicals, they talk movies — Dejun doesn't even notice the time flying by. Mark makes little to no commentary, which is uncharacteristic for him, but he's also high as kites, leaning back on his hands and watching the both of them. He wiggles his eyebrows at Dejun and there is no way that Jaemin didn't notice, but he must be used to Mark's antics himself. When Jaemin excuses himself to the bathroom, Mark lunges forward as if spellbound, resting his hands on Dejun's knees.

"You're so into him," he whispers, or tries to — it comes out loud anyway. Dejun looks up to see if anyone listened, but they're alone. Mark smiles dumbly as he raises a hand to pat Dejun's cheek: "You have my blessing. Be happy. Have gorgeous babies that I will gladly be the godfather of."

To which Dejun replies: "You don't know what you're talking about. You're high as fuck."

Mark scoffs, retrieving his hand and resting it on his knee once more, sliding his fingers under the rips of his jeans. "I stopped being high half an hour ago. I think he'll come back, do you want me to leave? I should've left. But I was high — I'd fall on the pool."

He'd fall on the pool. Dejun shakes his head: "Stop, I'm not a teenager. I know how to flirt, and I don't think he's into me. He's just being polite. You'd know."

After a moment of silence, Mark tilts his head to the side. "Maybe so. But—" he says, leaning in a little. Dejun leans down to listen: "—he could be into you. He will. I could teach you, I know what Jaemin likes."

Dejun nods. He presses his lips into a fine line — maybe… "Would you really be alright with me going out with your ex?"

"You do realize I am the one who's trying to hook you up, right?" Mark laughs. Dejun can't help but laugh, too. "Seriously, gorgeous, what's the matter? I'm telling you to go for it."

"I don't know," he replies truthfully. "I guess it's just funny. I'll take up on your offer."

Mark pinches a patch of skin on his knee — when Dejun tries to push him off, he raises his fists in the air, victorious, and smiles brightly at him. There is nothing else Dejun could do but let him.

.

"First things first," Mark announces as he plops down on Dejun's couch, throwing his legs over the other's even though he'd been reading, the book forgotten under Mark's bare calves. "Minnie is a romantic. He doesn't do one night stands."

Dejun sighs as he looks at him, trying to push Mark's legs off, to no avail. When Mark texted him saying he'd come over, Dejun imagined it'd be later at night, he'd even try to tidy his apartment, but Mark was already at the door. "Do you mind?" he asks, looking down. Mark rolls his eyes as he raises his legs momentaneously only so that he can close the book and throw it on the coffee table. "What else is there to know about him?"

Mark counts with his fingers: "He enjoys being courted, but he's not a prude. He likes it when people pay attention to him; he thinks it comes back to it. Love. It comes back to attention. He likes being doted on, and likes to dote on people too. And he really fucking hates pinneaple on pizza, just so you know."

"How does pizza have to do with all that you just said?"

Mark shrugs. "Dunno, just thought of it because I didn't have lunch yet," he replies, patting his stomach. The weather is nicer these days, the windows in Dejun's apartment are all open, but he's wearing a loose black shirt that's at least two sizes too big for him — a stark difference to what he was wearing at the party. His mid calf socks are checkered and he kicks the side of Dejun's thigh with his heel playfully. "As I was saying, Minnie is a flirt. Once he gets to know you, he'll try to get you flustered to see if you'll try and do the same. He'll want you to do the same."

Dejun nods. "He's a flirt, okay, noted. Anything else?"

"Yes," Mark sits up, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he leans into Dejun's space — he's so close that he could count Mark's eyelashes if he wanted to. "I think that for every tip I give you on how to woo Jaemin, you should give me a kiss. As payment for my services, of course."

"And I should do that because… ?"

Mark smiles: "I know the way to his heart. It's the least you could do, Dejun. I'll have to remind you that you'll be receiving many more kisses if you succeed at dating him, so you have nothing to lose."

Dejun can't help the bubble of laughter that inflates his chest. "You're such an idiot," he says. "Such a dork, Minhyung."

Pressing his hands to his face, Mark groans: "Not you. No one ever calls me that," he confides, lowering his hands. He rests one on Dejun's chest. "Like, when I came out, I asked my grandmother to give me another Korean name. I didn't think she'd do it but she did. I don't even go by it, though."

"It's a beautiful name," Dejun tells him. "You don't mind when Jaemin calls you that."

Mark nods. He reaches out to scratch at the back of Dejun's neck. "I like Jaemin a lot," he says, and then adds: "As a friend. He is a very good lover. He's the kind of guy that deserves a book-worthy, going down in history kind of love — kind of like you, actually."

"What about you? What kind of love do you deserve?"

Mark makes a face, the corners of his mouth tugging downwards as he shrugs. "I've come to realize I am not very good at dating people. I don't know, I'm still figuring it out. Until then I'll be the wine aunt to Jaemin's children."

Letting out a laugh, Dejun places his hands over Mark's legs, pinching lightly at the side of his thigh. "Is that why you two broke up? You said, hey Jaemin, maybe I'll just be the wine aunt to your children?"

"Ah, it was just some stupid shit. A fight, I think. Actually, it's a funny story," he lets out a giggle. "We never broke up. Like, no one said: I'm breaking up with you, etc and all. We just stopped seeing each other, and then started talking again but without the romantic aspect of it all. Like Fall Out Boy once said, they knew it was over..."

"They just didn't know the date," Dejun quotes. "Now that's something. Hyphotetically speaking, if I date Jaemin, does that automatically make all of us three a polyamorous couple?"

"Of course not," Mark replies firmly. "Hypothetically speaking, you'd both have to win me over. I have high standards and I am not part of a package deal, thank you."

Because Dejun is feeling funny, he replies: "I think you are. Maybe if I were to order Jaemin online, you'd be one of those freebies that come attached to him."

"I would not be the freebie! I'm older than him, he would come attached to me," the other protests, though he's laughing. He grabs at Dejun's chin and holds him in place, leaning in. "You think you're hilarious, don't you? You piss me off. I'll destroy for that."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Mark doesn't reply, and neither Dejun waits for him to do so — when Mark kisses him, he's living up to his words; wrapping hands around his waist, Dejun pulls him closer, sighing into his mouth. He doesn't care about his messy apartment anymore, or that he has a test coming up soon, as Mark more often than not is capable of making everything else about him fade away. They kiss until the sky outside the window is tinted reds and pinks and the beginning of blue, and then Dejun pushes him against the cushions to press his lips under Mark's jaw, latching onto the skin lazily.

He hadn't had the chance to see Mark in the past week, both too busy studying and working — he'd known for a fact that Mark was working on a friend's mixtape nonstop, and he was quite surprised to know he'd be coming over; Dejun himself had been preparing for an upcoming play. The time they spent together at that frat house seems too far away, a distant memory, but he'll make up for it, a shiver running down his spine when Mark slides his hands under his shirt.

For a moment, he wonders if it was like this when Mark dated Jaemin, if he touched Jaemin like this, warm hands and wandering fingers — it is not a jealous feeling, of course, just curious. He's curious, naturally so, to know if Mark kisses him differently, and the thought progresses: if he were to be with Jaemin, would it be like this? He knows the planes and curves of Mark's body well, but Jaemin is taller, broader— it feels kind of silly to be thinking of someone else while they're here, entangled in each other, but when he mentions it to Mark, the latter lets out a breathless laugh and says: "You really got it bad for Minnie, huh?"

"When you put it like that," Dejun mutters. He feels as Mark tugs at the hem of his shirt and sits back on Mark's thighs to take it off. "I'm sorry, it must be awkward. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Hey, it's not awkward," Mark replies, thumbing at his hip bones. It makes Dejun squirm as he lets his shirt fall to the floor, and he tries to bat Mark's hands away to no avail, as they slide up his sides and come to rest on his waist. "It's kind of hot, actually. Why don't you tell me what you'd do to Jaemin if he was here?"

Dejun shakes his head: "You're actually insane."

"Consider it practice. I'm dying to know."

He rolls his eyes, lowering himself once more, careful not to crush him under his weight, and Mark wraps arms around his neck to pull him closer. Dejun is not going to tell him, but perhaps he can show, as he presses a kiss to the underside of Mark's jaw—

"Did your stomach just growl?"

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter," Mark interrupts him, and as Dejun tries to sit up once more, he keeps him in place with a tight embrace. "No, go on. Seriously, go on, I'm— Xiao Dejun. Seriously? Fuck."

He can't help but laugh, face pressed to Mark's neck, and Mark pulls at his hair in annoyance before letting him go. Dejun braces himself on his hands to lean back and look down at him. "Let's get you something to eat. We'll continue later."

Mark scoffs, scandalized: "You bet we will continue, thanks!"

Laughing, Dejun pecks him on the lips before rolling off the couch. Though quite grumpily, Mark follows him to the kitchen stomping his feet. Of course, Dejun would pretty much like to continue, but he'd rather not keep Mark from eating any further — besides, he knows how to make mean noodles, and neither of them have night classes. Maybe Mark will even stay over tonight.

As Dejun collects bowls and ingredients, Mark lurks by the doorstep, watching him with a funny face. Dejun raises his eyebrows, what is it?, but the other doesn't reply, stepping into the kitchen to corner him against the counter. "You need to eat," Dejun reminds him.

"I wasn't going to do anything," Mark mutters. He rests one hand on Dejun's hip once more and the other he lifts to his face, thumb brushing on his cheek. "You're not wearing any makeup today. I thought it was cute."

"If that's the case, thank you."

"How fast can you cook?"

"Uh—" Dejun shrugs. "Like, twenty minutes?"

Mark nods happily, and then leans in to press a loud kiss to his cheek. He steps away and says: "Let's make it fifteen. I'll cut the vegetables."

.

Dejun sighs as he lets his bag fall on top of a chair by the wall. Admittedly, he didn't get much sleep the night before, and walking into a loud and crowded room in the morning is the least thing he'd like to do. But rehearsal is rehearsal, and he chose this for himself, so he might as well just endure it.

"Good morning, sunshine," Mina greets him from where she's sitting cross legged on the floor, carefully braiding her light brown hair. Beside her, Eunwoo looks far too interested in the stash of papers on his lap to notice him. "You look like you're falling asleep on your feet. Had much fun last night?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he replies, sitting down by her side. "I hate morning schedules. Why can't we only have night practice?"

"Because the play is coming up and we need to be prepared," Eunwoo chimes in, finally looking up. He hands Dejun a bunch of paper sheets. "Fixed your script. Jinyoung wants to know who you're bringing to the opening night so he can book enough seats."

Dejun tilts his head to the side, scrunching up his nose as he looks down at the script. "No one? My dad doesn't live here. You guys can take my reserved seats."

Mina scoffs, nudging Eunwoo on the ribs with an elbow before she tucks a few stray strands of hair behind her adorable ears. "He's kidding. He'll invite Mark Lee."

"Mark won't come."

"Did he specifically tell you that?"

"No…?" Dejun frowns. "I mean, he has better things to do, probably. I didn't even tell him the date."

She looks at Eunwoo again."Mark Lee from Latam Studies will come. Write that down."

He's not particularly fond of the way Mina is so sure that Mark will come to the opening night — she's taken a liking in teasing Dejun, and he figures that it must be a trick of the Universe that he ended up befriending one of Mark's closest friends. It seems to him that everywhere he looks in this university, Mark is there somehow; not that it is a problem anyway. It means that Mina pulls at his pigtails more often than not because she's certain that they're dating.

Which they aren't. What he has with Mark is one hundred percent no strings attached. But Eunwoo wiggles eyebrows at him after he writes Mark's name down on the list, and Dejun waves him off with a scoff.

Slowly, his classmates start to fill the room. Black, heavy curtains are pulled over the big windows, rendering the place completely dark for a moment before the stage lights are turned on, and Dejun helps pushing the three big wooden tables together for their makeshift stage, greeting a few colleagues in the process. Once he's sat by Sicheng's side on the floor, waiting for their professor and director to arrive, Dejun lets himself lean into the other man's side just for a couple of seconds.

"Don't fall asleep on me," Sicheng says playfully, though he raises a hand to pet Dejun's hair. "You have to look presentable. Some Photography majors will tag along today."

Dejun straightens his back. "To take pictures for the banners and flyers? No way!" he groans, slapping his own forehead. Sicheng lets out a confused laugh, patting him on the back. "I forgot that was today. Shit."

He didn't even wash his hair; Dejun had woken up late due to Mark Lee related things, and put himself through the quickest shower ever so that he wouldn't show up to class reeking of other Mark Lee related things. God damn it. Dejun pats his pockets in search of his phone, so that he can try to make himself look decent, but finds them empty — he must've left it in his bag.

"Don't worry, you look cute as always," Sicheng tells him, as if sensing his inner turmoil. "And they'll put makeup on you anyway. Loosen up."

Sighing, Dejun nods. Usually, he's not that messy. The room falls to silence as the doors open and Park Jinyoung walks in, disentangling himself from a long red scarf. It's far too hot outside for him to be wearing that, but everyone in this room is a little bit eccentric anyway; Dejun, for one, worships the ground his professor walks on. He'd wear scarfs to class if Jinyoung told him to, probably, all because he's starred in Dejun's favorite plays, the ones he'd die to have a starring role in. He'd be lying if he said he didn't choose this university solely for the chance of being under Jinyoung's tutelage.

"Everyone up," Jinyoung says in lieu of a greeting, motioning for them to get moving. "Let's start with routine exercises before the photographers get here."

And there they go. Dejun partners up with Mina, Yeeun and Chani for the time being, though he eventually ends up in Sicheng's group as they have the same role in the upcoming play. He doesn't notice the time passing by until the doors to the classroom open again and a group of strangers walk in, carrying trunks and bags of equipment, and Dejun lets Eunwoo drag him along to greet them.

As he chats with one of the photographers about the play, Dejun notices a familiar face across the room, too busy cleaning his camera's lenses to notice him. Not believing his luck — or lack of thereof, since he always seems to look greasy and untidy when meeting the man in question —, Dejun excuses himself and makes his way to Jaemin.

"Fancy seeing you here," he says tentatively, hands in the pockets of his pants, and Jaemin's head snaps up immediately, mouth falling open at the sight of him.

"Xiao Dejun!" Jaemin exclaims, now smiling. "It's good to see you."

"The feeling's mutual," he replies. "I thought you were the one being photographed usually, not the other way around?"

Jaemin lets out a laugh. "What can I say? I like being on both sides of the camera," he shrugs. "And I didn't know you were one of Jinyoung's pupils; I worked with him a couple times before. Don't remember seeing you, though."

"Yeah, well, I transferred not long ago. It's my first time working with him."

Nodding, Jaemin crosses his arms. He has that kind of smile that hardly ever wears off, Dejun notices, as if anything and everything is capable of pleasing him. "I know, Mark told me."

Dejun raises his eyebrows: "Is that so? What else did he tell you? Great things I hope."

"Not much, actually. He says I'll have to find out the rest for myself."

He says it very smoothly, fumbling with the leather strap of his camera, and Dejun is about to ask if he wants to grab a coffee later when one of Jaemin's classmates taps him on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear before excusing himself, and Jaemin turns back to him with a sheepish smile, raising the camera in his hands. "I gotta get to work," he says. "Give me your best angles today?"

Dejun nods: "I'll try my best."

He does try his best — though something about having Jaemin walking around with a camera during rehearsal makes him feel a little uneasy, Dejun pushes that thought to the back of his mind and tries to deliver the best of his acting, listening with attention to what Jinyoung has to say and encouraging his peers as well. At some point he's dragged to another room to get makeup done so they'll take pictures for the play's banners, but his photographer isn't Jaemin — which is disappointing to say the least. Dejun watches longingly as the other chats with Seokmin after his shoot, and then gets surprised by Hyunjin poking at his side.

"Hey, you!" they say. "We're all planning to have lunch together after this, what do you say? Do you have afternoon classes?"

"I do, actually. Um, well—" he shoots Jaemin another glance. "I'll tag along. I just have to do something first."

Hyunjin smiles cheerily as they tie their long blonde hair in a tight bun, and follows his gaze, letting out a hum. "Oh, that's Jaemin. We were roommates in my first year."

"You were?" Dejun raises his eyebrows. "How come I've never seen him before? He's everywhere."

Hyunjin shrugs. "People come into our lives when we need them. Somebody said this," and before Dejun can comment, they raise a finger in the air: "Maybe it was a Pinterest motivation board. I don't remember."

"Or maybe you are just a romantic, Hyunjin. Do you tell those things to Jisung, too?"

Hyunjin's cheeks blush an impossible red, and they scoff, crossing arms tightly over their chest. Essentially, one day they'll marry Han Jisung, who's one of Mark's closest friends and most importantly a menace of a boy. Dejun didn't mean to meddle in their love life, but he was there that one time Jisung tried to get Hyunjin jealous by asking Jeno out and kindly spent some time sitting outside the party with him after he got rejected, waiting for Mark to come rescue him. Jisung has his heart in the right place, he's just hard to keep up with sometimes.

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Hyunjin replies at last. "Go ask Jaemin out, then. You Leo people are obsessed with each other, anyway."

Dejun is not offended by it because he doesn't know a thing about astrology, and when Hyunjin pushes him in Jaemin's general direction, he walks up to him decisively. At the sight of him, Jaemin flashes him a smile and raises his camera, the shutter going off before Dejun can stop him. "What did you do that for?" he asks.

Jaemin fakes surprise, holding the camera out of Dejun's reach. "Excuse me, this is my job. I'm legally allowed to take pictures of you," he replies matter-of-factly, and Dejun supposes he cannot argue against it. "I just thought the light was lovely. In fact, let me just—" he takes another picture, and laughs as Dejun rolls his eyes. "Yes, thank you very much."

"I'm not even in character anymore," Dejun points out.

Nodding, Jaemin shuts off the camera. "You're the star, aren't you? Boy of the year. You don't need to be in character for that," he replies. "But I think I'll just have to keep these for myself, just in case."

Oh, so they're really doing this. Dejun takes a deep breath and puts on his best smile as he says: "Would you send them to me? I'll give you my number."

"That sounds great," Jaemin nods, pulling his phone out. Dejun does the same, and then he's left staring at the many cute animal stickers Jaemin has glued to the back of his rose gold phone before turning it around to add his contact. He's patting himself in the back for this. He didn't think he'd be able to say more than a couple of words to Jaemin anyway. "Here you go! I'll be the only Jaemin in your contact list, but I put an emoji just so you won't forget."

"Hardly doubt that will happen," he laughs, handing his phone back. As Jaemin cheerily checks his contact, Dejun pockets his phone."So, um, will you be sticking around to see the rest of rehearsal?"

He doesn't know why Jaemin would even consider that, but it doesn't hurt asking. The latter widens his eyes: "Can I?"

"Sure?" Dejun shrugs. "I mean, no one ever comes to watch us, but you're free to do so. It's mostly people complaining about each other. Or screaming."

How nice, he's rambling. Dejun lets out a small sigh as he forces himself to shut up. But Jaemin smiles — do his cheeks ever hurt because of it ? — and nods.

"Then I'd love to stay," he replies. In a spur of courage, Dejun motions for the door that leads to the main classroom:

"Shall we?"

.

In the quiet of the night, the music softly playing from Mark's speakers rivals the sound of the latter's breathing, and Dejun is awfully aware of both.

He sighs to himself as he stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep, and hooks an arm under his head as he turns on his side. Mark's bed is pushed under the only window in his room, which is broken so every once in a while Dejun feels a breeze on the top of his head because Mark keeps it open with a book. He says it'll never open again once it's closed, and Dejun has told him to fix it a thousand times, but he must admit there's some charm to it. He watches as the breeze touches Mark's hair briefly, his face illuminated by moonlight, and wonders why he hasn't left already.

He could. He'd just have to roll over and walk on his tippy toes, searching his clothes with the help of his phone's flashlight, and Mark wouldn't even stir awake because he sleeps like the dead. But Dejun is not particularly fond of taking public transportation this late at night, and neither is he particularly fond of slipping into his own bed alone. He's used to it most of the time, but now right now. If Mark hasn't kicked him out — he never does, actually, mostly Dejun just walks out —, he would rather stay.

He knows for a fact that at some point the battery will die and the speakers will stop on their own, and the volume is so low that he wouldn't hear it if the rest of the room were so quiet. It's a calm tune, one of those Mark enjoys listening to when he just wants to feel good, and he can even make out a part of the lyrics if he tries hard enough. When the room finally falls to silence, Mark's breaths sound as loud as thunder though he sleeps peacefully, on his back, one hand over his clothed stomach and the other tucked under his pillow, mouth hanging open slightly.

Mouth-breather, he is. He sometimes speaks, also, muttering nonsense under his breath, and Dejun has woken up in the middle of the night startled by his laughter more than once. Mark claims not to remember any of it when he's awake, and that Dejun is only trying to embarrass him every time he mentions it.

He, for one, wishes sleep would come to him as easily as it comes to Mark. He'd dozed off momentaneously at some point but the sound of the shower running had woken him, and he should've left then — Mark is not chatty after sex, he pressed against Dejun once more and dozed off immediately, his body a furnace from the shower, and he couldn't bring himself to move if his life depended on it.

Sighing, Dejun rubs a hand against his face and closes his eyes, trying to force himself into sleepiness. It'll be opening night soon and he has no business feeling like death on stage. The motion is enough for Mark to stir in his sleep, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, and Dejun has to stop himself from laughing when Mark lets out a giggle. His face scrunches up for a second before he rolls on his side, and Dejun lets out a groan as he's partially crushed under Mark's weight.

I can't stay over because it's hell to sleep with me, Mark had said once as he fixed his binder in the mirror behind Dejun's bedroom door. I can't stay still. I'd end up kicking you out of bed. You'd hate me for it and I can't have you hating me, it'd break my heart.

Dejun doesn't hate him for any of those kicks. He rests his arm over Mark's back and finds a more comfortable position for himself, Mark's head tucked under his chin.

The digital clock on the nightstand turns 04:34. His eyes start prickling with tiredness, but it's the familiar weight of Mark's body that lulls him back to sleep.

He wakes up on accident, eyelids heavy with sleep as he blinks, and is met with Mark looking down at him, hands on either side of his head. They stare at each other until Dejun crooks out: "Hi?"

"Hello," Mark replies, sitting back on his knees. Dejun raises himself up on his elbows to look at him. "I wasn't watching you like a creep or something, I just woke up. I was just— you never spend the night. I swear I wasn't watching. I was just curious."

He nods, though in silence, and Mark keeps looking at him, bare faced and big eyed, wearing the loose tank top Dejun had worn the night before, his hair sticking up in weird places. "I wasn't going to stay over," Dejun replies at last, rubbing at an eye with his knuckle. "I— sorry? I didn't want to, um, be alone. I can go now if you want."

Mark's eyes soften as he lets out a laugh. "What are you saying? It's chill. It's just—" he gestures vaguely and plops down by his side once more, pulling the covers over the both of them. "It's chill. Let's just sleep some more."

Slowly, Dejun lowers himself to the mattress once more. He couldn't bring himself back to sleep if he tried, but it's not like he's the only one. Mark stares at the ceiling with half of his face hidden by the duvet, completely unmoving and disturbingly quiet, and maybe Dejun should leave. It's just too awkward.

Although, when he makes a motion to, Mark's hand curls around his wrist and gently pulls him back. "Are you nervous because of your play tonight?" he asks, rolling to the side.

Dejun turns to face him, wrist still caged by Mark's fingers between the both of them, and replies: "I don't know, maybe. I just woke up. I think I'll be nervous after breakfast."

Mark rolls his eyes. "I mean it. It's okay if you are. You're gonna rock it anyway, you always do. Wait, I'm not supposed to say that, right? You're gonna— you're gonna be shit, or something. How about that?"

"That's not how you say it either," Dejun laughs. "You have no idea what you're doing."

Mark presses his face to the pillow, embarrassed, and Dejun mutters: "It's okay, I understood it. Thank you."

He doesn't reply, not immediately anyway. Mark turns his face to him again, presses his thumb to his pulse point briefly and then retrieves his hand. He looks pretty much asleep still, and Dejun wonders what time it is. He clears his throat: "How did you know it's opening night tonight?"

"Jeno told me," Mark replies, which is obvious. "She said you guys worked really hard. In fact, I was wondering—" he stays quiet for a while, and then adds: "—if I could come see you?"

Caught by surprise, Dejun says: "Of course. I didn't know you were into theatre, so I didn't even say anything."

"Yeah, I am, very! I mean," he leans in, whispering: "I haven't watched a play since I was a kid, though. But I think you might be just as interesting as The Lion King, so I'll give it a try."

Dejun rolls his eyes and Mark giggles proudly at himself. Admittedly, he wasn't expecting Mark to bring the play up — Eunwoo did put him on the guest list, but Dejun wasn't going to invite him. He doesn't know why. Maybe he was afraid of overstepping something. There are some things you won't even admit to yourself anyway.

Once Mark's laughter dies out, Dejun reaches out to flick a stray eyelash from under his eye. It's been bothering him for a while. Before he can pull away, Mark grabs his wrist delicately once more, tugging at it lightly.

Dejun scoots closer, though not too much, and Mark lets out an exaggerated sigh as he pulls at his wrist more insistently, and only lets go once Dejun is partially on top of him, holding himself up with an arm, unsure of what to do. When he leans in to kiss him, Mark presses a finger to his lips.

"I have morning breath," he says, and Dejun lets out a laugh. "Let's just stay like this for a little while."

"Okay," he replies, and Mark's arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer.

.

jaemin 🍑💌 (06:53 pm)

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hey boy of the year

sorry it took me so long to send them

but here they are

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

you (07:00 pm)

hello!!

i didn't know u took the last one lol

na jaemin 🍑💌 (07:02 pm)

caught you by surprise?

you (07:02 pm)

something like that

thanks for the pics, you're great :^) <3

na jaemin 🍑💌 (07:04 pm)

np cutie (≧◡≦)

break a leg tonight!!

"Oh boy," Dejun mutters, letting the phone fall to his table and pressing his hands to his face as he takes a deep breath. The dressing room is loud and chaotic, just the way it always is, but familiarity does nothing to prevent his heart from beating this loud. "We're really in it now, huh."

.

Dejun's hands are clammy when he holds onto Sicheng's and Minghao's for dear life. Essentially, he's been on a stage since he was old enough to walk, thanks to his father's enthusiasm, but there is just something so exhilarating about the end of a play. This is where the hard work pays off: his hair sticking to their faces with sweat and a familiar glint in all of his peers' eyes, the loud sound of clapping and praises from the audience. It's a feeling like none other.

On the front row, Mark nudges Jeno on the side one he catches him looking, and they both send him thumbs up and funny faces that leave Dejun chuckling once they're onto the last bow. Admittedly, Jeno had practically camped in front of the auditorium just to be the first in line, but he hadn't seen Mark until the play began, sneaking into his seat with Heejin in tow.

"Hey," Sicheng says, squeezing at his shoulder, and Dejun takes his eyes off the trio to look at him. "Great job today!"

Dejun thanks him with a nod, and lets himself be pulled into a brief tight hug. He then greets each of his fellow actors, bowing to seniors and escaping from Yangyang's attempts to kiss his face once they barge out of the sound management pit. Once he's able to meet his friends, Dejun is even more tired than before, but that doesn't stop him from being crushed in a hug from Mark.

"You were amazing," he says. "Best actor of this generation, I've been telling everyone."

Dejun scoffs, batting Mark's hand away once it moves to pinch at his cheek just for the sake of it. "Thanks for coming," he says instead. "Did you like it?"

"Yes! And I brought, well, Jeno and I brought—" Mark gestures to somewhere behind him. "—flowers, but I gave mine to Heejin so she could give it to Yeeun. So I'll have to owe you one, I'm sorry. Had to do it for the lesbians."

He laughs: "That's completely fine, seriously. Thank you for the effort."

Mark nods, smiling, and turns his attention to Mina, who was passing by, giving her a tight hug as well. Dejun takes a minute to take a breath before greeting and thanking other people for coming. He's in the middle of explaining an aspect of the play to Renjun when he catches sight of a familiar face and, shocked, excuses himself to meander by Mark's side again, tugging at his sleeve.

He leans in: "Jaemin is—

"Here? Did you invite him?" Mark chin drops, then he squeezes Dejun's arm once he shakes his head negatively. "He came to see you! Let's talk to him!"

He supposes he couldn't stop Mark if he tried — the latter pulls him by the arm in Jaemin's direction as soon as he spots him, and nothing could prepare him to see the size of Jaemin's smile. Dejun feels a little dizzy just by looking at those pearly white teeth when he didn't expect to see them in the first place.

"Hello to you two!" Jaemin greets them, but his eyes are on Dejun. "You did great. Got me hooked for the entirety of it."

Over Jaemin's shoulder, Mark gives him two thumbs up and a few crude gestures that make Dejun regret having woken up that morning, so he turns his attention to Jaemin. "Thank you so much, and thanks for coming as well. That was really nice."

"Really nice!" Mark echoes as he gives Jaemin's shoulder a playful slap. "You know, he's going to perform for, like, a month. You totally come see the play every weekend. It's never the same thing."

Dejun clears his throat: "He's exaggerating, but I'll be playing the judge next week. We're always switching roles."

Jaemin raises his eyebrows. "Really? I'll come back for sure, then." He reaches out to touch Dejun's arm briefly. "Well, I just wanted to congratulate you, I gotta get going."

"Of course. Thanks again."

Jaemin smiles brightly, and Dejun feels a tug at the back of his shirt as Mina leans in to tell him they should go backstage to wrap things up. He excuses himself and watches from the distance as Mark tries to convince Jaemin to give him a ride, and then turns his back to them, chuckling to himself.

.

The first thing that walks into the library's study room is a large checkered coat and a pair of Balenciaga shoes, and Dejun has approximately two seconds to duck under the table before Jaemin appears right after.

With a surprised squeal, Yangyang leans back on their chair to ask: "Did you lose a contact or are you just gay?"

"Shut up," he replies, watching as Jaemin's shoes walk right past their table and towards the back of the study room. "I didn't think he'd be here today."

"And?"

Dejun sits cross-legged on the floor, gesturing at his face as he looks up at Yangyang. "And I look like I pulled an all-nighter. Two out of three times I meet Jaemin, I'm looking like shit; I'd rather not make it a tradition. Is he with a friend?"

Yangyang leans back once more, stretching their neck to see. "No, but he's not even looking in this direction, so you can act like an adult now. We still have an essay to finish, remember?"

Sighing, Dejun braces his hands on the table to push himself off the floor, and Yangyang taps the chair beside them happily with a hand. Though he hates group projects for theoric studies with a passion, it's a good thing that they share this class — Dejun is this close to handing in the last of his class projects before winter break, anyway. He can almost taste it as he sits down once more, extending a hand to pull Yangyang's computer closer to himself.

"Alright, let's do this," the latter says, leaning in to point out a paragraph. "For this section, I was thinking we should highlight the importance of—" Yangyang lets out a giggle. Dejun nudges them on the ribs so they can continue, but Yangyang pulls at the sleeve of his jacket insistently in return. Stressed out, Dejun turns to confront them, noticing a figure standing behind them.

"Hello!" Jaemin smiles. "I hope I'm not intruding? But your friend was making funny faces at me."

"Oh, is that so?" Dejun glares at Yangyang, who's conveniently busy typing on the computer and pretending to ignore them. He sighs, but smiles at Jaemin: "It's fine, we're almost done anyway. What brings you here?"

Jaemin gestures vaguely to the back of the study room. "I was meeting up with a friend but got stood up. I wonder if I have permission to snatch you for a little bit?"

Before he can reply, Yangyang shuts the computer close, grabs their bag and turns to him. "Yes, please, take him anywhere you'd like. I just remembered I have to get my dog from the pet shop, how silly of me! Goodbye to you two."

Dejun watches wordlessly as they slide off their seat and rush to the door — he can't believe he'll actually have to kill Yangyang some day. As for Jaemin, he takes it as a cue to sit on the vacant seat, turning his entire body in Dejun's direction.

"They're lying, they don't actually have a dog," he explains, and Jaemin lets out a laugh in delight. "I'm sorry for it. Do you— how about we grab a coffee? I know a place."

Jaemin nods: "I would like nothing more."

The hole in the wall café bar isn't the best spot in the city, and certainly not somewhere he pictures Jaemin hanging out, but it's cozy and the drinks are amazing, and there's live poetry on the weekends. Everybody wears heavy makeup at ten in the morning on a Wednesday and Dejun adores it. And it seems that Jaemin does as well, as he smiles cheerily once they find a booth for themselves.

"This is really nice," he says. "It's too bad I don't have my camera with me, this could be a perfect shot."

Dejun frowns as he looks at the table menu, wondering what Jaemin would even want to photograph, and he looks up to find the latter doing a framing motion with his fingers in his direction. He shakes his head: "Yeah, I'm sure the bags under my eyes are super camera worthy."

Jaemin waves him off. "I'm starting to think you've never looked in the mirror before, dearie."

For his own sake, Dejun ignores that compliment, commenting which beverages he usually orders, and Jaemin keeps looking at him with a funny expression as if he can see right through his bullshit. He probably does — Mark says Jaemin is the smartest —, and there's nothing Dejun can do about it but playing it cool. He hopes at least that the concealer he applied in the morning was enough to stop him from looking like death.

It comes back to the fact that Jaemin is too nice. His coat is so big that a part of it ends up on Dejun's lap and he looks straight out of a photo shoot himself; he might as well be the most interesting thing about this cafe anyway.

He gets up to get their orders, slightly upset that his usual barista isn't on duty today, and watches Jaemin from afar as he types on his phone. Dejun feels stupidly giddy for some reason, perhaps he hasn't done this in a while; actively seeking someone, going on dates, all that — it was different with Mark, starting from the fact that they didn't date, or neither will they; they just fell into this friends with benefits sort of thing.

It feels new and exhilarating. When the barista calls for his name, Dejun has to wipe a dumb smile off his face so he won't end up looking like a total moron. He slides Jaemin's coffee in his direction and says: "I'm glad you're a coffee person as well. Mark only drinks tea."

Jaemin widens his eyes: "I know, right! He's always like, don't call me crying when you have—"

"—ulceras for ingesting this much caffeine!" he completes, laughing. "I mean, I know he's right, but I can't help it. The last time he was over at my place, he tried to make me drink matcha tea. He even said he'd make it himself."

"And he doesn't know how to properly make matcha tea."

"Exactly! We had to Google it. It was a mess."

Jaemin laughs, leaning his chin on his hand. Dejun takes it as a chance to sip on his coffee, sighing happily to himself, and then Jaemin asks: "So, since when are you and Mark dating?"

He coughs, spilling coffee on himself. "Since when—" Dejun shakes his head as Jaemin hands him a couple of napkins. Great. That's totally going to leave a stain on his jacket. "Um, I… We're not. Dating. We're not dating."

"Oh?" Jaemin's mouth falls open. That makes two of them. Since when he and Mark— what even. "That's… I'm sorry. I'm a moron."

"You're not!" Dejun insists as he puts down the used napkins. "It's alright, um, I guess it's a thing that people assume," he scratches his cheek awkwardly. "We're seeing each other but it's not like that. I thought he told you?"

Letting out a chuckle, Jaemin says softly: "Mark has a bit of a communication issue. Things fly by his head more often than not. So, just to be clear, are you seeing anyone else that isn't him?"

"At this moment, no."

Jaemin nods. After a moment, he adds: "And do you want to?"

He doesn't need to think about it. "Yes." Dejun replies.

This time, Jaemin smiles as he nods once more. "Let me buy you another coffee, then."

.

So they've been texting.

Admittedly, Dejun didn't expect him to be a thing. The goblin inside his mind kept telling him that Jaemin had no reason at all to text a guy he's met three times before, but the goblin currently raiding his fridge tells him: "That's how people get to know each other, Xiao Dejun," and promptly shoves a spoonful of leftover lasagna inside his mouth. "I mean, that's how Jaemin and I got to know each other also."

"Is that so?" Dejun asks, turning around on the couch to look at him. The phone in his lap showcases at least five new texts from Jaemin from the last two minutes. "How did that go, by the way?"

Mark hums, plucking the spoon out of his mouth with a loud noise as he paces around the kitchen. "We met in one of my classes."

"And?"

"And then I decided that I really wanted his pretty little tongue down my throat and other places, what do you expect me to say?"

Dejun sighs. He doesn't know why he even asked. "You're the literal most anticlimactic person I have ever met," he points out. "You don't have a single drop of romance in your bloodstream."

Mark chews on another bit of lasagna as he watches him, swallows and says: "Yeah, I wish I had that, but I only have your mom's phone number and this enormous dick."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dejun turns back to his phone. He's in the middle of figuring out something smart to say when Mark plops down on the couch by his side, equilibrating the bowl of lasagna on his knee as he leans in to read their private chat.

"You know, it's funny because sometimes people make that joke and you can't possibly know the size of their dick," Mark adds. "But I can say it confidently because I did choose my own dick. Trans boy joy!"

"That's very lovely, but stop talking about your dick while I'm trying to romance your ex," Dejun replies, and then turns to him with a pleading look. "How do I romance your ex? I have no idea what to say. I feel like my brain just stopped working."

Mark lets out a giggle, reaching out to pull the phone from his hands. Dejun lets him but keeps a close watch because who knows what might happen, it wouldn't be the first time Mark causes problems on purpose, but the latter only scrolls up their conversation lazily as he eats.

"I think you're doing great," he says at last, dropping the phone on Dejun's lap once more. "You can ask him more stuff about his life, he can be shy sometimes because he always feels as if he's talking too much. And, like, drop a Vine reference every once in a while, he's going to swoon over you in a heartbeat."

"I don't know any Vine reference, though."

Mark pats his knee with a sympathetic look. "I forgot that you grew up emo and spent your childhood on Myspace. If you tell Jaemin about your knee high Converses, he'll ask you out for sure."

"Wait, for real?"

"Of course not," Mark laughs. "I mean, I'm sure he'd think those were neat. Jaemin's a normie, he's never had a scene phase. He thought your piercings were fake."

Instinctively, Dejun brings a hand to his bottom lip. "Why would I even use fake ones?"

Mark shrugs, scraping the last bits of food with his spoon. "Dunno. He can't get piercings himself because of his model gigs, so that might be it. But don't worry, he thinks it's really hot."

Dejun's chest inflates with pride. "For real?" he repeats, and Mark sends him a look.

"Yeah? I mean, I have one too and he thought it was awesome," he points at his helix piercing. "But you have plenty more. The more the merrier, right? Hey, you should invite him with you when you get another piercing!"

"But I'm not planning on getting another piercing," Dejun replies, and then it hits him. "Oh, right. I'll think of something. Piercing date."

Mark smiles cheerily as he suggests: "Nose ring?"

Dejun hums. "Maybe. I haven't had a nose ring since high school. I could just go for an antitragus or something."

"Or I could try to pierce your nose at home, so you don't have to spend money!"

"You are not sticking a needle anywhere near my face, thanks."

Mark's bottom lip juts out at the same time that Dejun's phone lights up with another text. Jaemin has an astounding ability to find the right kaomoji for every situation and Dejun can't seem to get enough of it. Every time a notification pops up on his screen he can't help but smile, which earns him a painful squeeze on the cheek from Mark, who gets up to get more food.

It's just that Jaemin is so... he doesn't even know where to begin. He's witty and sweet and caring and a little bit of a dork, and it's hard to believe that someone like this exists at arm's reach. It's different when Mark talks about him — Mark paints the things he adores rose colored without realizing, though it's not in the words he uses. It's just in the look on his face, Dejun thinks, or the undeniably fond tone of his voice.

And real life Jaemin is tangible and sometimes he says weird things that he makes fun of himself, and he initiates conversation by sending cat gifs "on accident". Dejun likes both versions. He figures he'd paint Jaemin rose colored too if he were to fall in love with him.

He thinks he will. Anyway, when Mark sits down once more, he reaches out with a hand and pulls at a strand of Dejun's hair. The latter looks at him with eyebrows raised: "What was that for?"

"I gave you crucial Jaemin information and you didn't even pay me," he replies matter-of-factly before taking a tip of his ice tea. Dejun eyes the beverage in curiosity, as he doesn't remember buying it. "Oh, the exploitation of labor. Might as well just call you an European superpower."

"At this point you're just saying things."

"Maybe," Mark shrugs. He taps his own cheek with a finger. "C'mon, I don't have all day. I told Heejin I'd meet her at the skate park today."

Rolling his eyes, Dejun leans in, delivering a kiss right on top of the mole on his cheek. Mark hums happily to himself before he gets up. "Hey, can I borrow a shirt? I got mine dirty with tomato sauce."

"Sure, knock yourself out."

Jaemin tells him he has a photoshoot now, so Dejun is left staring at their chat until the screen of his phone becomes black. He leaves it on the couch and gets up to head to his room just to bother Mark a little further.

"I was thinking of taking Jaemin on a date," he says, and Mark looks at him over his shoulder from where he's digging through Dejun's dresser with eyebrows raised for a moment before going back to his task. "Any suggestions?"

Mark scratches at his back lazily, his chipped painted nails over the faint red lines left behind by his binder, now discarded on Dejun's bed. Although they have seen each other in various stages of undress already, he's still amused by the fact that Mark gets naked at any chance he gets, even if it means leaving his clothes on Dejun's floor for him to slip on in the mornings. Mark smacks his lips loudly:

"Picnic in a park, remember that he hates strawberries and you should buy organic juice. Museums can be fun but he's going to want to make out in the Greeks & Romans session to honor Achilles or some shit and, I mean, I know I taught him that, but who buys museum tickets to make out? That shit's expensive."

"That sounds like a very you thing to do, though."

Mark puts on a striped long sleeved shirt and then a simple black tee over it, turning around to look at him with hands on his hips. Even then Dejun can catch a glimpse of the tattoo on his hip bone, as his pants hang low — it's a watermelon slice. He said it's a matching tattoo with Jaemin and that Dejun will have an aneurism once he finds out where Jaemin's is, and he tries not to think too much about it.

"You think you're so funny," Mark says. "Mind you, I respect the Classics. I'd wait for us to arrive at the Renaissance at least."

Dejun laughs at his ridiculousness. Mildly vexed, Mark sticks his very pink tongue out at him and begins picking up his discarded clothes — he had found one of his pants inexplicably lost inside Dejun's dresser, but his many layers of shirts from the night before stayed on the floor. He picks them up, looking torn between shoving them inside his bag or just leaving them on top of the dresser, and Dejun says: "Don't worry about it. I'll wash them for you."

Happily, Mark flashes him a smile as he makes a show out of throwing the ball of clothes inside his laundry basket. "Thanks, gorgeous. Do you wanna go to the skatepark with me?"

Dejun hums, looking over to where his skateboard is resting against the wall, near his desk. It's been a while since he's done this. "Sure, let's do it."

Once they're both inside the bus, Mark holding onto the handrail and Dejun holding onto his arm, he watches for a while as Mark scrolls down his Twitter timeline, retweeting stupid things and giggling to himself, and then asks:

"What if I take him to the movies?"

"Why do you want to pay money to kiss Jaemin?" Mark asks, locking his phone and pocketing it to look at him. "Jesus Christ. He'll literally do it for free. Look at your face."

Dejun shrugs. "What if I just want to have a good time with him? Before making out?"

Mark lets out a scoff. Dejun knows he's putting on an act, so he lets it slide, but still pinches at Mark's arm over his shirt. The bus comes to a stop and a bunch of people climb inside, so Dejun scoots closer to him. Mark absentmindedly fixes his beanie for him and says:

"I think that Jaemin will like pretty much anything you do, you shouldn't worry much about it. You're an ace at wooing people."

"Now you're just saying things," Dejun protests. "What if I embarrass myself? He's, I don't know, different. He's too chic for me."

"You won't embarrass yourself. You have to remember that he has dated me. I can't believe Jaemin ate your self confidence for breakfast."

Dejun shakes his head, breathing out: "Can you blame me? Look at him."

"Look at you, Xiao Dejun."

He sighs. "I mean it."

Mark stays silent for a while, tapping a finger against his cheek. He says: "I get you. I've been there. I'll tell you something embarrassing about Jaemin so you'll feel better," and then leans in to whisper: "He always bawls his eyes out while watching Legally Blonde."

"That's actually very endearing I think."

"You've never seen Legally Blonde before, have you?"

"No."

Mark lets out a sigh, reaching out to cup the back of Dejun's neck with a hand and pull him closer. "You're lucky that you're so cute," he says. "Speaking of which, good luck kiss for today?"

He doesn't need to reply. Mark presses a loud kiss to his lips and leans back, looking quite pleased with himself, and then busies himself with fumbling with his skateboard poking out of his bag, at their feet, as Dejun watches him. There's something in the back of his mind that's been intriguing him for a while, and before he can stop himself, Dejun clears his throat:

"Did you know that Jaemin thought you and I were dating?"

At first, Mark doesn't react, still looking down at their bags, but his eyebrow twitches just a little as he fights back a frown and Dejun has no idea what it means — then, Mark lets out a laugh, looking out of the window. "Did he? What did you say?"

"That we're not," he replies matter-of-factly. "He looked very confused. I thought it was strange because—" Dejun hums, frowning at his own words. "You guys are friends, so he'd know we're not, right?"

"Right," Mark echoes. He stays silent for an awfully long time, his eyes somewhere in the city unfolding on the other side of the window, and then adds: "Yeah, like… Jaemin's a hopeless romantic anyway. Don't mind him."

Dejun nods, but Mark wouldn't know because he's still not looking, so he mutters: "Yeah," and calls it a day.

The bus arrives at their stop shortly, and then it's just a few minutes walk to the skatepark, all of which they skate in complete silence, and Dejun can't shake off the feeling that something's wrong. He's sure he's never seen Mark so quiet before, but can't bring himself to point it out.

Suddenly regretting that he even brought up the subject, Dejun curses himself mentally — honestly, is he stupid? Why would he even bring it up? It happened so long ago. It was very embarrassing when Jaemin said it and it was very embarrassing to talk about it, so Dejun can't understand why he possibly wanted to make himself go through it again. What he has with Mark is perfectly fine; Jaemin isn't the first person to mistake them as boyfriends and he probably won't be the last. Or so Dejun thinks. He doesn't know. He shouldn't even be thinking about it now because Mark is right there, skating a few meters in front of him. It feels wrong somehow.

As if he could sense that Dejun is staring at the back of his head — he's redone the dye on his hair and it's as bright as ever, his ears stained with hot pink —, Mark looks at him over his shoulder once and then looks away. A few seconds later, he looks back at him again and says: "Bet I can beat you there, huh?"

"Oh, you wish!" Dejun replies, and Mark lets out a giggle as he speeds up.

.

The sound of a shutter going off tears Dejun's gaze away from the garden eels as he looks back to frown at Jaemin. "Again?" he asks.

"Again," Jaemin replies, his eyes curling with a smile. "I swear I was taking a picture of the eels. You happened to be in the way."

Rising to his feet, Dejun brushes the dirt from his knees and takes a step closer to him, but Jaemin cradles the camera to his chest and moves his pointer finger left and right, and Dejun puts his best pleading look on. "Later," Jaemin insists in a softer tone. "Let's move on to the next section, hm?"

Admittedly, he doesn't care much for the pictures. Jaemin is an amazing photographer, but Dejun is far more interested in who's behind the lenses. He figures that Jaemin has picked up on the ulterior motives behind him asking to see the pictures — Dejun could be here all day, if only to spend a little more time counting Jaemin's eyelashes.

The aquarium was a good idea. Some kid had handed him a flyer back at the skate park and Dejun kept thinking that he hadn't stepped into an aquarium since he was a kid — Jaemin liked it, too. He's got that bright look on his face ever since Dejun bought the tickets at the entrance. They're not even halfway through the exhibitions and Dejun just knows this has got to be one of the best dates he's ever been.

Which brings them back to, well, the elephant in the room. He doesn't know when it is acceptable to hold Jaemin's hand, but perhaps the shark section might be a good excuse.

"This one looks really scary," Dejun mutters as a sawshark swims right in front of them as they enter the tunnel. A bunch of kids gasp at the sight of other critters. "Don't you think?"

Jaemin hums, absentmindedly toying with the strap of his camera. Here, the eerily glow of blue lighting makes him look like something out of a dream. Not even the most dangerous looking shark would be more interesting than the shadows cast by his eyelashes against his cheeks.

"Don't worry," he says playfully as he looks back at Dejun. Although the tunnel isn't crowded, he inches closer just enough for their hands to bump against one another. "In case you ever find one of these in real life, it would have already spotted you for a couple of hours. Isn't the ocean just so amazing?"

"Very much indeed. Any other tip on encountering fish that would have me for dinner?"

"I didn't have time to memorize any more information from the board at the entrance, so no," Jaemin pouts. "I could make things up if you want. For example, there's no way to tell if a shark isn't just trying to make some friends. That's just a bit of friendly nibbling!"

Laughing, Dejun lets his hand brush against Jaemin's own tentatively. He's sure that the other hasn't taken the hint until a few seconds later when Jaemin — finally — intertwines their fingers. It makes Dejun feel so giddy that he almost lets go of him.

Fortunately, he's not the only one — Jaemin looks away, but the curve of his smile is still noticeable. Dejun gives his hand a light squeeze before saying: "I think I'd rather hang out with the dolphins or something with less threatening teeth."

Jaemin clicks his tongue, looking back at him. "Silly, I'll protect you from the sharks. They don't even have bones. Let's go see some stingrays."

Dejun nods happily — he would let Jaemin take him anywhere, from the ray tank to the time they spend discussing whether or not it was obvious that bluefin tuna are as tall and as large as a fridge. They take pictures with the penguins, they have ice cream at the cafe, Jaemin tucks his shiny dark brown hair inside a baseball cap with embroidered shark figures and Dejun's gut feeling is that he should make sure he doesn't let Na Jaemin get away.

"You didn't have to drive me home," he says once they're a couple of blocks away from his apartment. He has never hated lack of traffic before; if only he could stay here, in Jaemin's car, for a little longer. "Like, seriously, you live on the other side of town."

Jaemin shrugs. "I like driving, beautiful. It's no biggie. Besides, you bought me a hat! It's the least I can do."

Dejun rolls his eyes playfully. He doesn't know how to break it to Jaemin that they're inside an Audi and that Jaemin has a diamond choker that he wears to do laundry — a silly baseball cap from the aquarium could never compare. "Yeah, right, Mr. Supermodel," he chuckles as he looks at Jaemin's side profile. It's infuriating at best for someone to be this good looking, anyway. Dejun doesn't know what to do with himself. "But that's just because someone refused to let me buy a plushie."

"It was expensive!" Jaemin pouts. They stop near his building because you can never find places to park and he turns to him, and one of Jaemin's hands finds his. Dejun doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't, and Jaemin offers him a smile: "I really liked our date, did you know that?"

"Now I know," Dejun replies, a bit timid. "It was great, really. We should do it again if you'd like… ?"

Jaemin nods excitedly, and Dejun squeezes his hand lightly when a car behind them starts honking. He hates this neighborhood profoundly. Jaemin lets out a sigh as he lets go of his hand to pop his head out of the window to yell at the other driver, and Dejun takes it as his cue to get out of the car and heads to the sidewalk.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Jaemin motions for him to walk, and then drives forward a couple of meters. Dejun laughs as he follows him, and once Jaemin manages to squeeze his car in between a couple of motorcycles and a dumpster, he decides to shoot his shot and leans over the driver's window.

"Can I?" he asks, and Jaemin raises an eyebrow.

"I don't know, can you what?"

He sighs: "Can I kiss you goodbye, Jaemin?"

Jaemin nods. "You may." And Dejun cups his face with both hands, leaning in to kiss him square on the mouth. It's sweet and quick, and he bumps his head on the car's window frame when he leans back. Very cool, Dejun, what a great way to woo a guy!

Before he can apologize for being a mess, Jaemin promptly opens the car's doors, and he has two seconds to step out of the way until a pair of hands is tugging at the front of his shirt. Dejun lets out a surprised hum when Jaemin kisses him again, and his eyes close instantly — he's going to memorize the shape and taste of Jaemin's mouth or else he won't be able to sleep tonight. Dejun presses him against the car's door, arms wrapped around his neck, and Jaemin lets out a soft sigh against his lips.

"This doesn't feel like a goodbye kiss," Jaemin teases when he leans back, hands resting on Dejun's waist. His face is flushed a lovely shade of pink, and it takes all of Dejun's willpower not to take a picture so he'll be able to see it later — he must not be in a different state, anyway.

"It was supposed to be one," he replies, brushing his thumbs against Jaemin's cheekbones. "But someone got carried away."

Jaemin rolls his eyes playfully; when he smiles, Dejun's knees shake. He presses a small peck to the other's lips before pulling away completely, watching as Jaemin's hands fall to his sides.

"Goodnight, Jaemin."

"Are you really going to just leave?" when he nods, Jaemin lets out a breathy chuckle. "Goodnight, beautiful. I'll see you around."

.

"You seem awfully happy and it's starting to annoy me," Ten points as she wipes the counter, one eyebrow raised at Dejun suspiciously as he sips on his irish coffee. "Let me see, is it the one with the purple hair, hm? You two dating?"

"First of all, why must my happiness have something to do with someone else?" he replies, and when Ten doesn't reply, he adds: "And Yangyang is like a younger sibling to me. A very loving but very annoying younger sibling. Don't ever say that again."

"Could be the one with the phoenix eyes that comes here sometimes," Kun chimes in, still typing loudly on her computer. Dejun leans in to take a peek but it's just a scientific report that he has no idea what's about. "Or the one who can't stop talking for the life of him. Is it the one who can't stop talking for the life of him? I really hope it's the one who can't stop talking for the life of him."

Ten echoes: "I hope so too. He's the funniest. He tags me on giveaways on Instagram and it's always weird stuff."

"It's not Mark," he replies. "Why does everyone keep saying that? We— it's just sex. I know other people. I can go out with other people— I never went out with him. It's not Mark."

Kun's bottom lip juts out, and as her half rimmed glasses slip down the slope of her nose, Ten reaches out with a hand to put it in place. They're quite the couple, Dejun thinks — where Ten is sharp and witty, pitch black hair cut to her chin messily and tattoos all over, even on her long fingers, Kun wears fancy blazers and her soft brown hair is always neatly tied in a ponytail or an elegant braid. "That's too bad, we like him very much, he's lovely," Kun says softly. "Who is it, then?"

Dejun hums. He didn't expect to be at Ten's café bar late at night to talk about boys — but there aren't many people in tonight and he really just wanted to have something for dinner that isn't instant ramen. Ten makes the meanest sandwiches around here anyway.

"His name is Jaemin and he's an angel," he says, to which Ten mimics him in a mocking tone, although she smiles sweetly. "He takes pictures but he's also a model, he's the type that wears Gucci to take his semi-finals and has never dyed his hair, ever. We've been seeing each other and I'm going positively insane because my brain turns to mush when I think of him, and when I'm with him, I become stupid. He's incredible. His kisses are actually out of the world insane."

After a beat of silence, Dejun adds: "Oh, and he's also Mark's ex. Can I get another drink?"

Ten drops the glass she was holding — luckily, it doesn't shatter, rolling on the counter slowly, but Dejun gets startled at the sound. He reaches out to catch it before it falls to the floor.

"You are dating your fuck buddy's ex," she says. Kun glares, but she holds her hands up in surrender. "Baby, what am I supposed to say? He's dick sisters with his fuck buddy. Literally dick sisters with his fuck buddy. This sounds like a Reddit post."

"It doesn't sound like a Reddit post," Dejun chimes in.

"It does!" Ten exclaims. "It would be like, @djxiao888: My [21M] FWB [21M] has been trying to set me up with his ex [20M], but now I might be falling for the both of them. Thoughts? And then I'd be there to say, and prayers!"

She laughs at her own joke like it's the funniest thing in the world — admittedly, it is a little bit funny. Clearly refusing to laugh, Kun turns to Dejun: "Sometimes queer people within a social circle end up in relationships with their friend's exes and such. It happens more often than you think. I'm sure Mark will understand when you tell him. It's natural."

"What? No, he knows, he was the one who told me to go out with Jaemin" Dejun replies, motioning vaguely. "He even taught me how to woo him. It was his idea all along."

As he takes one more sip of his drink, Ten lets out a squeal, her palms spread on the counter as she leans forward to stare at him, too far into Dejun's personal space, so he has to lean back. "You're proving yourself to be full of surprises, Xiao Dejun," she says.

"Why, do you think it's weird?"

Ten shrugs. "I think it's cute. Nerd around here think it's cute as well, right, baby?"

"Young queer people—" Kun starts, and Ten turns around in her heels to fetch a client's order, and Kun sighs audibly as she leans her chin on her hand. "You know, I can't believe I'm going to marry her and she keeps walking out on me. She straight up leaves when I talk."

"I think you guys are lovely."

"I think so, too. And are you happy, Dejun?"

He raises his eyebrows: "Like, in general?"

"With that Jaemin boy of yours."

"Very," he replies, though quicker than he intended too. Kun smiles sweetly, and he has to look away so she won't notice how embarrassed he is. "I mean, he's cool. Cooler than cool. It's been a while since I dated anyone. It feels nice and natural, so I guess I'm doing fine."

Kun nods. She pats him on the back lightly before going back to her report. "I'm happy to know that. It's good to hear."

Dejun thinks it's good to hear, too.

.

On a Wednesday night, Dejun gets a text.

As in, he's woken up by his phone lighting up uncomfortably close to his face — he must've fallen asleep talking to Jaemin. Again. He was just so tired after rehearsal that he just passed out during conversation, and Dejun squints at the screen to realize it's not even that late. He types a quick apology to Jaemin and clicks on the notification.

mark (09:34 pm)

hi

uhhh

we haven't seen e/o in a while

so i was wondering if u wanna come over

and replace my helix piercing for me!

mark (09:35 pm)

and hang out obviously lmao

anyway miss u

*miss hanging out with u

He hums, surprised, and rubs the sleep of his face before replying:

you (09:37 pm)

hi!

you mean come over right now?

mark (09:37 pm)

i mean u can sleep over ofc

u don't have morning classes tomorrow

mark (09:37 pm)

i think lol, i wouldn't know

you (09:38 pm)

i really don't, actually

mark (09:39 pm)

soooooooo are u coming over :D

i'll order food ok i haven't eaten yet

you (09:40 pm)

i'll be there in a few then!

mark (09:41 pm)

❤️

*🤙

Dejun stares at the heart emoji for a while. Although he doesn't doubt that Mark had sent it on accident, strangely a part of him wishes that he didn't…? He rolls eyes at himself, pushing that thought off his mind before quickly typing he'll be there soon.

The ride to Mark's place is quicker than usual due to the late hour, and Dejun suddenly realizes that they indeed haven't seen each other in a while as he walks past the familiar small shops on the way from the bus stop.

He's been busy. They're still performing The Exception and the Rule, he had a few last essays to hand in and, well, there's Jaemin. When Dejun is not acting or studying, he's crossing the city to meet Jaemin for lunch or facetiming him from home. And Mark had been radio silent as well, probably busy with uni work and his freelance jobs.

It comes back to the fact that Dejun pushed that awkward conversation he had with Mark weeks before to the back of his mind. If he kept dwelling on it, he'd most probably start reading into things that aren't really there. At the end of the day he just misses hanging out with Mark, and Mark misses hanging out with him, and that's all that there is. He swears on it.

The doorman lets him inside as soon as he steps closer to the gate, and Dejun greets him with a nod. He pats the pocket of his pants when his phone vibrates, and finds a text from Jaemim waiting for him.

Back at the bus, after much thought, Dejun had told him: I'm going over to Mark's. He decided that he wanted to be honest with Jaemin because that's just how Dejun does open relationships, with dialogue at all times, and he's glad that they settled it that way. And Jaemin's an angel, of course, as he writes tell him i said hi!!! have a goodnight baby, and Dejun sends him a <3 before getting on the elevator.

Mark is waiting for him by the door when Dejun arrives on his floor, with eyes this big and wearing a black hoodie that comes down to the middle of his thighs, in contrast to the cat print pyjama pants. Although Dejun has seen him without his usual colorful makeup before, it is still a very cute sight to be quite honest, and he doesn't realize he's lingering in the corridor until Mark raises his eyebrows at him and says:

"I don't think the corridor is a good spot to hang out, as I'm pretty sure my neighbor lets her cat pee around here every day. My couch, on the other hand..."

"You know your couch sucks," Dejun tells him in lieu of a greeting. "Fucks up my back all the time."

Mark scoffs, hands on his hips. "Because you're the only fool who'd rather sleep there. It has seen better days, sure, but I'll defend its honor with tooth and nail."

"Sure thing. You know you're as intimidating as a kitten, right?"

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, and it takes all of Dejun's willpower not to burst out laughing. At last, the other says: "Are you going to stand there and make fun of me all night long? We have business to do."

Right. Dejun takes a step forward and Mark steps away from the door. He leaves his shoes next to three pairs of Mark's favorites and winces when his feet come in contact with the freezing floor. "I thought you talked to your landlord about subfloor heating?" Dejun comments. "It feels like Antarctica here."

Mark waves dismissively as he heads to the kitchen. "You know this building is ancient, they can't do many things or it will collapse or something. Buy me a rug if you're that bothered."

"Maybe I will," he replies, following him. Mark fumbles with a few takeout boxes, humming under his breath, and Dejun takes his time to observe him.

Objectively speaking, there is nothing new. It's the same old Mark Lee, clad in the gym shorts he usually wears to sleep, mismatched socks, hair wavy at the back where he hasn't bothered straightening. As familiar as it can get. But, for some reason, it's like Dejun is looking at his bony shoulders for the first time. Like he has never seen the mole on his neck, right next to a hair dye stain.

He supposes he missed Mark very much. They eat the takeout out the couch while watching an episode from a show they both like. Mark asks about Jaemin, even though he already knows pretty much everything Dejun could tell him because Jaemin told him beforehand — it's funny to think that the three of them are joined at the hip, each in their own way. Dejun asks him about his work. Mark complains about his work and asks him about theatre instead, and Dejun complains about it too, and it feels good and organic to be here. And as Dejun ponders whether or not to eat another chicken wing, Mark nudges him on the side lightly and says:

"Hey, so, yeah, I'm sorry I've been weird."

Dejun frowns, turning to look at him. "You haven't, though? What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, it's just..." Mark shrugs, his eyes set on the almost empty tray of fried chicken. He reaches out for a napkin and starts cleaning his fingers neatly. "I missed hanging out with you, but I didn't know how to say it because I didn't want to be weird? And you're going out with Jaemin which is awesome, by the way, and you're welcome for that—" Mark chuckles, but it dies out quickly. "I don't know. I'm just saying things. I didn't even think you'd come over. I keep saying shit. Shit."

"Hey," Dejun pokes at his arm, if only to get Mark to look back at him. "Hey, I missed you, of course I'd come over, I really like being with you. I don't think you've ever been weird," he pauses. "You're weird for other reasons, but not because—"

Mark groans loudly: "Okay, enough of this talk, thank you, glad to know you still like me as a human being, as I also like you very much. Can you change my piercing now?"

"You're full of second intentions with me, aren't you?"

Letting out a giggle, Mark pats him on the shoulder. "Maybe so. Come on, now that we're good, let's put those hands of yours to use."

Dejun rolls his eyes, but does get up to follow him. He thinks of Jaemin's words from a while back — Mark isn't good at talking about his feelings. But even if he's going to pretend that this talk never happened, Dejun is glad. He more than happily follows him inside the bathroom.

Mark's bathroom is usually too messy, makeup and skincare products all over the place, but tonight it is clean and tidy — he probably shoved everything inside the cabinet. Dejun knows him too well. He leans in to inspect the utensils on the counter as Mark sits down on the closed toilet, releasing a nervous sigh.

"Don't worry, it's not going to hurt," Dejun tells him. "But it's better if you stand."

Mark grimaces as he stands up. He tugs at his piercing nervously and Dejun bats his hand away. "Stay still," the latter says.

"I am staying still."

"You're not. I don't want to hurt you."

Mark lets out a long, exasperated sigh, bracing himself against the counter and closing his eyes for a second, but as soon as Dejun's fingers brush his ear, he starts squirming once more. "I can't do this if you keep moving!" Dejun insists, flicking him on the back of his ear. "Do you want me to open the piercing or not? It's going to hurt if you don't stop moving."

"I am very sensitive to pain!" Mark protests, staring at him through the mirror. "If you just stopped with funny business we'd be over with this already."

"Funny business?" Dejun raises his eyebrows. "I'm trying to get you comfortable and relaxed so you don't get hurt. Sorry for being a gentleman."

Mark turns around to look at him, leaning his lower back against the counter as he crosses his arms. He says: "This is not out first time doing sex, Dejun, it's just a piercing that I want off my ear, hopefully before the second coming of Jesus Christ, but only if Little Miss Sunshine over here stops—"

With a hand to his waist, Dejun leans in, pressing his lips to Mark's lightly. It was mainly for shutting up reasons, but changed his mind just as soon, pressing in more insistently and humming, satisfied, when Mark wraps his arms around his neck. Dejun drops the pair of ring opening pliers on the counter to rest both hands on the other's waist.

"You're such a dick," Mark tells him between kisses. "I'm sorry for rambling. I'm nervous. I am very…"

His words trail off, distracted, and Dejun leans back to add: "Sensitive to pain. I know. You don't have to worry, I've done this a million times."

It is not a lie. Dejun has changed the jewelry for his piercings alone at home countless times before, but it's different when it's someone else. He doesn't want to end up hurting Mark or something of the likes, so when the latter turns around to face the mirror once more, he picks up the pair of pliers and takes a minute or two to regain his breath. Maybe kissing wasn't that much of a good idea.

Finally, he gently places a hand over the curve of Mark's jaw to hold him in place just to be sure before pulling away, then and slides the pliers through the ring. Opening it takes less than a second, and he quickly gathers the loose bead and places it on the tray Mark had put over the counter.

"Did it hurt?" he asks, and Mark shakes his head negatively. "Alright, I'll replace it with the other one now."

Not more than five minutes later, Mark's ear sports a cute little barbell piercing with spiked ends. Dejun meant to tell him that he should keep the surgical steel one in case of an allergy, but Mark accidentally knocks it down the sink and spends a good time with both hands pressed to his face, cursing under his breath.

"Those aren't even expensive," Dejun tells him, patting his shoulder. "I'll buy you a new one if that makes you feel better."

"It had sentimental value, I've had that piercing since high school," Mark replies, his face scrunching up as he leans closer to the mirror to admire the new one, and then smiles proudly at himself. "Okay, yeah, well, this looks way more radical than that one. Thanks for helping me out, gorgeous."

Dejun finds himself smiling softly at the pet name, but he quickly wipes it off his face before Mark notices. It's just that it's been a while since he's last heard it. It makes him feel funny things that he hasn't felt before, for some reason, and Dejun slips out of the bathroom before he ends up doing something dumb.

.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Jaemin lets out a non-committal grunt. From this angle, Dejun can see the reflection of his phone screen's on his eyes and the eternal pout on his lips. He digs his chin on Jaemin's bare chest insistently, pinching at his side with a hand, and Jaemin giggles as he lets his phone fall to the side of the bed, resting a hand on top of Dejun's head.

"Ask away," he replies, and Dejun crawls over him a little bit more so he can hook his head under Jaemin's chin, not really keen on facing him. "Is everything alright, Jun?"

Dejun lets out a hum. "Yeah, don't worry. I was just wondering… How was it like when you and Mark dated?"

"I've always been a great boyfriend," Jaemin promptly replies with a chuckle, and when Dejun pinches him on the side again, he adds: "Well, it was good. I enjoyed it. But we were fresh out of high school and didn't have much experience on the dating aspect, I suppose. But it was good while it lasted."

Dejun hums once more. It's not really the answer he wanted, and Jaemin seems to notice, because he wraps his arms around him and rolls them over, pushing himself up on his hands to look down at him. "You want to know what our dear Minhyung is like as a boyfriend," Jaemin announces with a grin, and Dejun rolls his eyes as he turns his head to the side, staring at Jaemin's dresser from across the room. The latter gently holds at his chin and cajoles Dejun into facing him once more.

"Could've just said you have a crush, beautiful," Jaemin says. "I'd be glad to share all my knowledge and past experiences."

"I don't have a crush," Dejun responds. "You two are ridiculous. I'm asking out of pure curiosity and that's it. Jesus."

Jaemin hums mockingly as he nods, lowering himself to capture Dejun's lips in a lazy kiss, and he's too much of a goner not to let himself be distracted, immediately reaching for his waist with both hands.

The weight of Jaemin's body over his is numbing enough; he's a lucid dream. Dejun can't get enough of it.

"You have a cute little crush on Minhyung," he teases. "You wish he was here right now, don't you? What would you do if he was?"

"Stop that," Dejun pleads, bringing a hand to cover his face. Jaemin tugs at his wrist until he lowers it. He can feel his face getting hotter by the second, and it isn't just because there's a supermodel on top of him. "It's not— I don't know, okay. I don't know. It's not like that."

Jaemin giggles as he sits back on Dejun's lap, crossing arms over his chest. He has such an amused look on his face; Dejun had soon found out that he finds joy in being a menace. Thinking he'd be an exception is a foolish mistake.

"Baby, you're in love," Jaemin declares. "I know a man in love with Mark Lee when I see him. You don't have to be shy, it's me you're talking to."

"That's not as reassuring as you think it is."

"We've all been romantically involved, I'm the best person to talk to," Jaemin continues. "And Mark adores you, he cannot shut up about you. You adore him, you've slept with him countless times. You're practically dating already."

Dejun pushes himself up on his elbows. "Jaemin, I'm dating you. Mark is something else."

"Could be dating him by association, as we've never officially broken up."

"Jaemin."

The latter raises his hands in surrender, and slides off Dejun's lap to sit by his side on the bed, one hand coming up to pet his hair. "I'm just pulling at your pigtails, beautiful," he says, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Dejun's ear. "If you like him, you can tell me. We're all adults around here."

"I don't know," he repeats, truthfully, leaning into Jaemin's touch. "I think I'm blurring the lines here. Or maybe they were always blurred in the first place, and I just didn't notice? Sometimes I think—" Dejun inhales a sharp breath. "—sometimes I think he likes me. When we're together, it doesn't feel like there are no strings attached. But maybe I'm the one projecting and he doesn't care at all. Am I making sense?"

Jaemin hums, resting a hand against his cheek for a moment. "From my perspective," he says very carefully. "You fell in love and it's natural, and you're worried because it's not what you agreed on, but..." Jaemin leans in, whispering in his ear: "To be honest, I don't think Mark would be mad to know you like him. Quite the opposite, actually. You should go for it."

Dejun widens his eyes, and immediately tries to tackle him down to the mattress. "You know!" he exclaims. "You literally know and you made me talk about it when you could just tell me if Mark likes me back or not. Honestly, Jaemin, you're a pest! You're worse than Mark himself."

Jaemin laughs as he pushes him off, trying to hold Dejun's hand in his. "We're a package deal!" he replies as if it answers anything. "All of us. I can't just snitch on Mark's feelings like that. He'd kill me. It's a breach of contract."

He's so ridiculous. Dejun sighs, letting himself fall sideways on the mattress, and presses his face to Jaemin's pillow. He can't believe they're having this conversation — he can't believe it's about Mark, of all people. It feels strange and funny, and definitely not like them, but it doesn't feel wrong either.

Objectively speaking, he has never seen Mark like that. As a Boyfriend with a capital B, like Jaemin is. Mark is— was someone he had fun with, someone he liked spending the night with. But he's funny, and he's smart, and he bought all of that organic food for his apartment and leaves his binders on Dejun's floor and kisses him too sweetly. Neither of them were looking for anything serious until, well, until Jaemin happened.

It's such a weird story, Dejun thinks. Nothing like the movies. He sighs and looks back at Jaemin again, the latter's cheek squished against the pillow as he looks at him in expectation. The catalyst of it all, this man right here. Dejun reaches out with a hand to brush his thumb against Jaemin's cheek tenderly.

"Would you really be alright with me going out with your ex?" he asks.

Jaemin nods, scooting closer. He presses a kiss to the tip of Dejun's nose. "Don't worry, you don't have to do it alone. I'll go out with him with you.'

Dejun nods in return, leaning in to kiss him, but leans back suddenly. "Wait. Are you… Do you have a crush on your ex, Na Jaemin?"

"Maybe so. He's so cute when he's in love with you. And I've always been weak for high cheekbones, you're one to tell."

"Shut up," he mutters. "I can't believe we're actually a package deal. Mark is going to be so pissed if we ask him out."

"When we ask him out," Jaemin corrects. "I know you're actually dying to, I told you that you don't have to be shy!"

Dejun doesn't reply, just hooks his arm around the back of his neck and pulls him closer, knowing damn well that the only way to get Jaemin to shut up is to put his mouth to use.

.

The phone on the coffee table rings for a solid minute before Jaemin gets tired of Dejun stalling, and he's not fast enough to prevent him from picking it up.

"Hi!" Jaemin exclaims, pushing Dejun off with a hand. "It's on speakers."

"What do you want?" Mark asks, ever so kind and thoughtful. Dejun's heart squeezes painfully. "It's too early, you guys."

Dejun clears his throat — Jaemin wiggles eyebrows at him, and he slaps him on the thigh for it. "Hello to you too, Mark," he says. "It's, like, 10 am?"

"The early bird catches the worm," Jaemin chimes in. He's one to tell; Dejun had to drag him out of bed because he, personally, wasn't able to sleep all night. For many reasons. Anyway. He scoots closer to Jaemin and stares at Mark's picture on his phone's screen like he's never seen it before.

"Too early for me and you know it. What do I owe the honor of this call from my favorite people?"

Jaemin mouths: we're his favorite people! Dejun motions for him to quit it. He pouts and hands him the phone, and Dejun considers his words for a while before finally saying:

"So, we wanted to ask… Well, it's funny, actually—" he rolls eyes at himself. "Are you free on Saturday?"

"No one is ever free under capitalism, gorgeous."

Dejun looks at Jaemin, mouthing: he's an idiot. Jaemin motions for him to continue.

"Go out with us," Dejun says decidedly. "There's a fair in town, so on a date with Jaemin and I on Saturday."

"A date. You guys and I on a date," Mark repeats. He stays silent for so long that Dejun checks if the call had ended accidentally, but it didn't, and he's sure that they both misunderstood Mark's intentions, but the latter speaks up: "Are you 100% sure that you want me to go out on a date with you two? As in, a gay date? As in, not platonic? Because as you know, I am a raging homosexual who doesn't undestand social clues so—"

Jaemin lets out a loud sigh, pulling the phone from Dejun's hand and bringing it close to his face. "We want to go on a very gay and very romantic date with you, Minhyung. As in, definitely not platonic. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Crystal clear," Mark replies. "If that's the case, I will take up on your offer. Dejun, bring me flowers or I won't go."

"I will bring you flowers, so please go," he replies. Jaemin nudges him on the side teasingly. "We'll text you the details, okay?"

"Alrighty then. Oh, remember I prefer—"

"Violets," Jaemin adds. "Are you done or would you like anything else?"

"I think I'm good, but I'll let you know if something comes up. Can I go back to sleep now?"

Dejun pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh. He can't believe Mark is the most ridiculous person he's ever met. Jaemin sends him flying kisses as Mark promptly hangs up on them, and then lets the phone fall to the cushions with a squeal, as if he can't quite believe himself, and Dejun can't either. He presses his face to the curve of Jaemin's neck and lets himself smile.

.

Jaemin is the first to spot him, standing near the ferris wheel and typing on his phone, and squeezes Dejun's shoulder lightly as he says: "There he is. I could see the pink hair from a mile away."

Dejun looks down at the flowers — violets! — in his hand as Jaemin takes the lead, and follows him in Mark's direction shortly after. Admittedly, he didn't think he'd be this agitated. It's Mark, but this time it's different, and Dejun is glad to find out he isn't the only one to be nervous — at the sight of them, Mark blindly tries to pocket his phone, only for it to slide down his jacket and fall to the ground.

"Fuck me," he curses loudly, crouching down to pick it up. A couple of mothers with children nearby look at the three of them in shock and Jaemin apologizes with a smile. When Mark gets up, he rubs at his cracked screen and turns to them: "I haven't even finished paying for this shit, you guys."

"Hello to you, too, Minhyung," Jaemin says as he leans in to give him a hug. "That's a very lovely dress."

Mark gives Dejun an embarrassed smile over his shoulder. He looks lovely indeed — it's not always that he ditches his baggy clothes for something else, and Dejun can't take his eyes off the little sparkling stars on his baby pink dress once Jaemin leans back. He is out for him, he swears to God, and he knows it because he raises his eyebrows at Dejun.

"Hi," the latter says softly. "These are for you."

Mark accepts the flowers with a smile, holding the small bouquet to his chest. Jaemin wanted to buy the biggest they could find, but it wouldn't fit the car, and Mark is probably going to lose it in thirty minutes, and Dejun likes the handheld arrangement better. He's quite proud of himself for choosing it.

"Well?" Jaemin clasps his hands together. "I say we try the drop tower first."

Mark's mood sours immediately. "You're only saying that because you know I'm afraid of heights, and you know what—"

Dejun pushes both of them in the direction of the merry-go-round, because you can't go wrong with that. It takes fifteen minutes for Mark and Jaemin to stop arguing and twenty five for Mark to forget the flowers on a bench, but it's fine, Dejun is very good at winning prizes at fairs. He'll find something else for him.

They go on every ride, including the ones for kids, and Mark waits patiently for them at the end of every roller coaster. Jaemin is terrible at fishing plastic fish and runs away from the haunted house when they're not looking, which leaves Dejun and Mark alone with a bunch of zombies and very little dignity — it's a good day. It's an awesome day and Dejun couldn't be more happy.

"I can't believe the tunnel of love doesn't fit three people in the same boat," Mark complains loudly as he munches on popcorn. "That's literally bullshit. Jaemin could literally just sit on my lap and we'd call it a day."

Jaemin nods in agreement as he looks down at the pictures he's taken. Dejun lets out a sigh: "Guys, it's against the safety protocols. He could fall on that water and we don't know what's in there."

"Being in contact with unknown bacteria builds character," Mark retorts. When he reaches for more popcorn, Dejun holds the bucket out of his hold on purpose. "You're so annoying. Jaemin, do something useful for once."

"I'm doing something," he replies, holding the camera to his eyes as he snaps another picture. Dejun doesn't even try to stop him anymore, it's useless — at this point he's got a billion pictures of Mark terrorizing them through the day. "I'm keeping memories. Baby, come on, smile for me."

Dejun smiles. When Mark does as well, he nudges him on the ribs with force: "You just smiled for Jaemin when he said baby," he accuses, and Mark widens his eyes, shaking his head negatively. "You literally did, stop lying to my face!"

Ignoring him, Mark turns to Jaemin: "I think he ate too much cotton candy, he's a bit..." he twirls a finger next to his ear, and Jaemin lets out a high pitched laugh. "Poor thing. Imagining things."

Dejun lets out a sigh in defeat, letting himself fall to one of the benches installed at the fair. He throws the almost empty bucket of popcorn on the trash can near him, and watches as Mark approaches him with a timid smile, sitting down by his side. The hem of his dress falls over Dejun's leg and he absentmindedly runs a finger through the fabric.

When Jaemin sits down as well, Dejun observes them as they chat about the pictures. All in all, he's always thought that Mark and Jaemin made a beautiful couple — how could they not? They're the best people he knows. They might as well be the best thing about this city.

Noticing his silence, Jaemin cocks his head to the side to look at him, one eyebrow raised, and Mark follows his gaze to mimic the expression at Dejun.

"A penny for your thoughts?" they ask in unison.

"I'm just really happy," he replies truthfully. Jaemin smiles sweetly.

As for Mark, he sighs, leaning back on the bench to wrap his arms around their necks. "People," he starts saying, and Dejun groans just to get a rise out of him. Naturally, Mark tugs at his ear for it. "During the time I spent trying to get you to date, I've realized that the time we spend together, but separately, just ain't it." He makes a dramatic pause. "Please forget your scarves in my life and come back for them. I am a lonely place when you're not here."

Jaemin hums. "Minhyung, it's summer. Why would we wear scarves?"

"It's a metaphor, for fuck's sake," Mark shakes his head. "Alright, you know what, my speech is ruined, I'll skip to the point. I accept the task of being your boyfriend."

"We didn't even ask you to be," Dejun teases.

Mark motions dismissively. "You don't have to. I know both of you like I know my own mind."

"Sure," Dejun nods, leaning into his side. "Well, if that's the case, I'm sure you won't be mad—"

Jaemin leans in as well. "—if we give you a little something," he adds, and before Mark can frown at their words, the both of them press loud kisses to his cheeks.

He lets out a squeal, arms squeezing around their necks tightly before it just turns into a hug, and Dejun rests his head on Mark's shoulder with a satisfied grin. The latter presses his cheek to the top of his head for a moment before he does the same to Jaemin. "So," he clears his throat. "Can we go home and—"

"Enjoy the tender moment, Minhyung," Jaemin says softly. "Just enjoy the tender moment for once."

Mark scoffs, and Dejun looks up to press a small kiss to his jaw. Personally, he thinks the three of them will be just fine. He's the luckiest guy on Earth. He's boy of the year.