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Mark’s going to be very, very late.
He only just missed his train, running up as the doors slid shut, plastic bag with takeout for his and Jaehyun’s dinner swinging from his wrist. He’s surprised food didn’t sling all over the floor with the way he skidded to a stop before colliding with the side of the train.
“It’ll only be five minutes,” someone grumbles nearby.
Mark resists the urge to curse, biting his tongue instead. Five minutes, sure, but he’ll miss his next train and then he still has to walk home, eat and change – Taeyong’s such a stickler for punctuality. He’ll have that sour, displeased twist to his lips when he greets him and Jaehyun at the door for Johnny’s party.
If only Mark hadn’t dawdled over the menu so long. He checks his watch, already feeling a headache beginning to form in the back of his neck.
“Mark?”
So cliché, Mark would think later, recalling the way that the world fell away around him, leaving only the man standing there on the platform, as casual as if he belonged there. As if he didn’t break up with Mark five years ago.
Renjun looks good. He looks great, actually, well-dressed with his hair pushed back from his face in a neat style, glowing like a model under the plain lights of the station. Seeing him is surprising enough. Renjun crossing the platform to him shocks Mark into stillness.
“Hi,” Renjun says, smiling. “You—wow, I didn’t expect this.”
Mark’s not sure what compels him to say it, but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, his hands frozen at his sides, and when his brain starts working again all that comes out is, “Do I know you?”
Renjun’s smile drops. His brows lift, disbelieving. “Are you serious?”
What are you doing? Mark’s brain screams. Mark’s body can’t seem to hear it. He smiles awkwardly, raising his hand to tap the faded scar on his temple. “I had an accident, um. I don’t remember anything from before a few years ago.”
“Oh, shit—“ Renjun says, eyes wide. “Are you—wow, an accident?”
“Yeah,” Mark says, “um. A crash.”
It was a crash alright – Donghyuck’s heel crashing into Mark’s jaw while showing him a high kick, Mark’s head crashing into the edge of the counter as he fell.
“Wow,” Renjun says again. He seems to hesitate for a moment before extending his hand. “My name’s Renjun. I—this may sound strange, but we used to know each other and…I’d love to catch up some time.”
Mark swallows hard, taking his hand. Renjun’s palm is dry and soft. There’s a dangerous moment after Mark grasps it where he’s uncertain if he can let go again. When he does, his hand tingles, static crawling up his wrist. “Um. Sure, Renjun. That sounds nice.”
Renjun smiles again, wide and earnest. “Let’s exchange numbers, then.”
Mark holds his breath as they swap phones, trading contact information. His number is still the same, but his contact has long been deleted in Renjun’s phone. He stares down at the screen as he tries to remember if he ever deleted Renjun’s – if he hasn’t, Renjun doesn’t mention it, just smiles as Mark hands the phone back to him.
“I’ll see you soon, then,” Renjun says.
Mark nods, watching Renjun as he steps away. They both board the same car when the train comes, standing at opposite ends, but Mark can’t keep his eyes off him.
Renjun meets his gaze, raises a hand, and gives him a little wave. Mark waves back.
Mark stands inside the door, inhaling deeply.
“Hey,” Jaehyun says from where he’s lounging on the sofa. He looks up from his phone when Mark doesn’t respond. He frowns. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I think that’s a real possibility,” Mark says slowly. He certainly feels haunted.
Jaehyun sits up. “Do you need some water? Or…do you want to sit down? Can you move?”
Mark can, he thinks. Probably. He puts his shoes on the rack by the door first, shrugs off his coat and hangs it, stares at the wall for a few seconds.
“I should put this away,” he says finally, picking up the plastic bag from where he’d dropped it.
“Don’t put it away—we’re eating it,” Jaehyun reminds him gently. “Mark, seriously, you’re freaking me out.”
Mark sets the takeout on the coffee table and sits in the big armchair Jaehyun bought cheap off an ex fling. Rubbing his palms over the rough fabric eases his mind a little, brings him back to the present where Jaehyun’s watching him and the world isn’t spinning so fast.
“I saw Renjun,” Mark says.
Jaehyun blinks at him. “Really? Where? Did you talk to him?”
“He talked to me,” Mark says. Then, groaning, he leans forward, holding his head in his hands. “Oh my god. Hyung. I told him I have amnesia.”
There probably isn’t anything that can make the situation better. At least Jaehyun rubbing his back leeches out a tenth of the misery coursing through him.
“That’s rough,” Jaehyun says after a long stretch of silence. “Why— you know, I’m not going to ask.”
“He wants to meet and catch up,” Mark mumbles. “Oh my god.”
“Are you going to?”
“Yes, of course,” Mark says, surprising himself. It takes a few seconds for his own decision to sink in. He looks up at Jaehyun. “Don’t I have to?”
Jaehyun laughs a little and he doesn’t even look sorry about it. “I don’t know. If you want to, then yeah, I guess you have to. But you should tell him you don’t have amnesia.”
“Yeah,” Mark says. “Yeah, I should tell him.”
He doesn’t tell him.
He plans to. He follows the directions Renjun sent him to the barbecue restaurant, rehearsing his confession as he walks. It’s a far cry from the last time he confessed to Renjun, just twenty-one, pink-haired, hands shaking in his pockets. He’s not twenty-one anymore and his hair hasn’t been touched in years, yet his hands still shake until he curls them into fists.
It’ll be easy. It’ll get a laugh. Renjun will think it’s a little weird, but Mark’s a little strange, right? Renjun should be used to thinking he’s odd.
The problem is that Renjun sees Mark coming. He looks up from his phone, smiles, and Mark can’t even speak, can barely breathe. All he can do is nod at his greeting and follow him inside. He grinds out a comment about the weather, asks about Renjun’s commute, how far he lives from here, and only just manages to order for them.
“So,” Renjun says halfway through their meal, “did you ask anyone about me?”
Mark swallows his mouthful of rice, glancing away.
“No?” Renjun murmurs. He doesn’t sound disappointed – the opposite, really. He sounds amused. “I should tell you, then. We used to date.”
Mark should probably make a scene, act surprised. Instead, he just nods a little, flips the meat on the grill, avoids his gaze.
“You don’t have any questions about that?”
Mark shrugs. “I don’t know. We don’t have to talk about it. Something must have happened, right?”
He’d like to know, really, what it is that happened. How they got here, five years after that dramatic scene. One minute Mark was making dinner, talking about his day, the next Renjun was dumping him and running away.
Renjun hums. “Not really.”
Mark scrunches his nose. “Nothing? Like, nobody fell out of love or…cheated?”
Renjun snorts.
Mark waits to hear the joke, his chopsticks poised to halfway to his mouth, and watches Renjun lifts his napkin, dab at the sauce on his lips.
He wonders if Renjun still likes toying with him, is committed to the chase in that same way, always running, always letting Mark hang at the other end of his pauses, or if he’s genuinely struggling to find the words.
Renjun drops the napkin on the table again. “Have you always known what you wanted, Mark?”
Mark blinks at him. “I guess, yeah.” A beat, and then, quickly, “I wouldn’t really remember, though.”
Renjun exhales slowly, leaning back in his seat. He folds his arms over his chest, tilting his face away as if looking somewhere over Mark’s shoulder.
It strikes Mark how small Renjun looks suddenly, compacting himself into something easy to carry along. Like this, quiet, he reminds Mark of the boy he used to know, and the realization sinks in his gut like a stone.
“I guess that’s right,” Renjun says finally. “I don’t think I’ve ever been good at making big decisions.”
Mark finishes his bite, chewing slowly because the rich beef tastes rotten and if he speaks too soon he might spew up the truth, all over the table, all over himself and Renjun.
But Renjun doesn’t seem eager to elaborate. By the time Mark swallows, he’s still quiet.
“Like what?” Mark asks.
Renjun smiles wryly. “School, my major—did you know I was undeclared for two and a half years, and then changed it four times after that? Only barely graduated… and work, where I want to live…”
He pauses, his lips still parted, and draws in a deep breath. Mark’s startled when he turns his eyes on him again, only just managing not to elbow his water cup off the table.
“And us too,” Renjun says.
His expression softens out as he looks down at the table, unable to hold Mark’s gaze again. He smiles, but Mark’s too off-kilter to tell if it’s shyness of shame that tugs on his lips in such an awkward way. His face isn’t meant to hold that expression, whatever it is, and Mark longs to reach across the grill and tear it off.
Despite that impulse, Mark remains in his seat, fists clenching on top of his thighs. Us rings in his ears like bells or – no, something more unpleasant, sharp, clanging. “Us?”
“Yeah,” Renjun says, “I was way too young and delusional for a relationship, you know? I mean, I guess you don’t. We fought a lot, though, over stupid stuff. Or—I guess I picked fights with you, really, because I wanted—“
“What?” Mark presses. Urgency spills into his voice, threatening to yank his lie out into the open, but Renjun must not notice.
“I guess I don’t know what it was that I wanted,” Renjun says.
They stare at each other for a moment and Mark is certain he’s going to throw up.
Instead, the thing that bursts from his throat is a laugh. He can’t stop it once it starts, either. All he can do is hold his hands over his face, letting out big, ugly guffaws.
Renjun must think he’s lost it. He’s going to get up and run, just like he did five years ago, and Mark’s never going to see him again and that’s fine because Mark’s life doesn’t revolve around a pretty boy who broke his heart.
Instead of the sound of fast feet, Mark hears a breathy giggle steadily building.
He drops his hands, too surprised to cover up his wide smile, and looks at Renjun again.
Renjun doesn’t cover his mouth anymore when he laughs either – just lets the sound out, lets the world see his joy without a trach of embarrassment over how he looks.
Good, Mark thinks, because he looks gorgeous, clapping his hands together, head tilted back.
Mark feels the stares of the other diners in the restaurant as they try to quiet themselves. It’s not easy. Renjun keeps catching his eye and then they dissolve into giggles again.
There’s a stitch in Mark’s side when he finally calms down. He groans quietly, rubbing the heel of his palm over his ribs. His chest doesn’t feel so tight anymore like laughter was all he needed to loosen the anxiety that had wrapped around his heart.
Across the table, Renjun leans his cheek in his palm, watching him. “Mark.”
“Mm?” Mark hums quietly.
Renjun’s stare is steady, focused. He presses his tongue to the corner of his mouth, considering him, and then says, “Let’s be friends, okay?”
“Okay,” Mark agrees.
Somewhere in Mark’s twisted brain, he convinces himself that it’s not really a lie.
He remembers Renjun, sure. He would recognize him anywhere – even in a crowd of a thousand people he could point him out by the top of his head.
He remembers dating Renjun, holding his hand, kissing him, pulling him into bed, waking up to his puffy face, his drool on the pillow.
He remembers how they ended, the words hurled like knives, the broken mug, the violent tears that wracked his body when he was left alone in their apartment, aching.
He remembers dreaming. He remembers wishing. He remembers wanting.
But he doesn’t remember their story quite the way Renjun tells it.
“It was hard,” Renjun admits one night as they walk by the river, their hands in their pockets. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did.”
“Then why did you?” Mark asks. He’s getting good at asking questions with an even tone, like someone unbiased, even though sometimes the answers make him feel like he’s going to drown, drowning, already drowned.
“It was never going to work,” Renjun says. “You wanted someone who didn’t exist and I was trying to become him.”
Mark can see that now. Renjun used to go along with anything Mark said. It was only at the end that his easy-going nature reared a hidden, beastly head.
Now, Renjun corrects Mark’s missteps, points out problems, nudges him away from poor decisions like fourth and fifth drinks. He laughs at everything, mostly Mark, unapologetically and openly. He describes his work with so much emphasis Mark can’t help but hang onto every word. Even when he doesn’t know what every technical term means, Mark nods along, urging him on. But Renjun doesn’t need his urging.
His shy, sweet Renjun doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe he never did.
“Sometimes it felt like your expectations were heavy enough to break me,” Renjun whispers one night in the back of a cab.
He’s leaning his head on Mark’s shoulder, dozing with cocktails on his breath. The lights of the city pass them by in a blur of color. Mark trails his fingers over the inside of Renjun’s wrist, playing with the idea of pressing their palms together.
“I wasn’t strong enough,” Renjun whispers, “I couldn’t do it all myself.”
Mark closes his eyes, swallows hard. “Was any of it good?”
“Oh, Mark,” Renjun breathes, “when it was good it was perfect.”
“But not good enough?”
“If I stayed, you would’ve killed me.” Renjun pauses.
Mark drinks in the relief of the quiet, but his heart hammers so hard it fills the whole car with its pitiful noise.
“If I was a little stupider,” Renjun continues, “I would’ve let you.”
For the first time Mark’s glad Renjun left. He’s glad he escaped.
They made it here: his rabbit heart, Renjun’s breath warm on his neck.
They might have known each other a long time ago, but years change people. Mark’s different, too, he knows. He’s a little more capable. He speaks up for himself. He knows how to fry an egg, too, which he’d be eager to show off if only the proposition to cook Renjun eggs didn’t sound so dirty.
And his life is good. He likes his life. But once Renjun steps back into it, the lights dial up to eleven, everything becomes crystal clear. It’s all wine, all singing, all Renjun’s hair falling in his eyes, re-introducing him to Jaehyun and dozing off on the couch while they argue about aliens or ghosts or whatever other theory makes Renjun’s eyes sparkle like stars.
He likes waking up with Renjun’s fingers in his hair, his head pillowed on his thigh. Every time he blinks awake, peering up at Renjun, Renjun just smiles, grazes his fingertips over the scar on his temple, tells him to go back to sleep.
In a perfect world, Mark would wake up to Renjun every day. His bed starts feeling colder, the spaces in his closet emptier. The ache returns.
It creeps in around his eyes at work and vanishes when he gets a text from Renjun. It slides over his back at night while he watches the rain tap against the window and slithers away when Renjun meets him for coffee.
It hounds his footsteps on the way to meet Renjun. Renjun’s wave and grin smash it into pieces. Renjun’s hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him into the noraebang after dinner, hacks away at the ache until it’s just dust for Mark to blow away on the chilly November wind.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” Renjun asks.
He’s the picture of innocence, eying Mark as he presses the mouth of his beer bottle to his lower lip.
“Uh,” Mark says, because how can he say, aren’t I seeing you?
How can he admit that he hasn’t dated anyone since they broke up, five vicious years ago? Not seriously, anyway, not anything more than favors for other friends, the ones who clap him on the shoulder and say, with pity shining in their eyes, Let me set you up with someone, Mark.
“No,” he says finally.
Renjun nods, face somber despite the twitch of his lips approaching something like a smile. Mark’s heart flutters – stupid, hopeful.
Mark sips his own drink and clears his throat. “What about you?”
Renjun hums. “You think anyone can put up with me?”
“Probably,” Mark says. “It would be worth it.”
For all the years between them, Renjun still tips his head to the side the same way, eyes brimming with something bright and burning. “What would be worth it?”
Renjun’s gaze must spark the layer of alcohol sitting over dinner in Mark’s stomach. The fire inside him spurns on his bravery, pushing it out of all the caverns he’d stashed it in.
Mark says, “You would be.”
He says, “You’re worth it.”
He says, “Renjun.”
Renjun kisses him before he can continue and the fire grows, licking over Mark’s insides as Renjun licks into his mouth, branding him with his touch as he cups Mark’s cheeks.
Mark’s holding his hips, steadying Renjun half in his lap, though Renjun doesn’t seem to mind the possibility of them both falling over together. The floor isn’t far, but it’s cold, and Renjun’s hands are so much warmer.
Something wet spreads under Mark’s thigh and distantly he thinks they must have knocked over his beer. It’s hard to care about when Renjun’s mouth is on his, when Mark’s sliding his hands over the dip of Renjun’s waist.
It far easier to focus on Renjun completely, to lose himself in the feeling of Renjun’s weight leaning on him, to let his thoughts buzz in the background, a drone of bees neglected.
Then Renjun’s hands slip down his chest, his fingers working deftly over Mark’s belt buckle, and the temperature drops.
Mark doesn’t shove him away, but it’s a near thing. He holds Renjun at arm’s length and stares at him. He must look like a wild animal, panting, wide-eyed. The reality of the last few minutes sinks in all at once.
“Renjun,” he says again, trying desperately to latch onto something meaningful to say that will ease the frown off Renjun’s wet, pink lips and still prevent him from punching Mark in the nose. “I—“
“I’m sorry,” Renjun blurts out before slapping a hand to his face. He sinks back down onto the bench, still so close that their knees press together as they shift to face each other. “I’m so sorry, that was… we can go slow. Is that it?”
Mark would gladly take Renjun’s hand and pull him all the way to the courthouse if it meant being kissed like that again. He would pick Renjun up and run there. Slow is not a word in his vocabulary when he looks at Renjun’s flushed cheeks, his fingers curved over Mark’s elbow, his bitten lips.
But he can’t let this go on with his lie hanging over them. He’s going to ruin them before they even start.
“Renjun,” Mark says.
“You said that already,” Renjun murmurs, smiling a little. “I’m listening.”
Mark can’t help but smile back, matching the quiet pleasure Renjun’s emitting just from being so close, having stepped over the boundary they’d let rise between them even if just for a moment. His stomach is doing backflips, though, and he can’t let them continue down this road. “I have to tell you something. Can you—will you promise not to be mad?”
Renjun’s smile starts to fall. “Probably not. What’s wrong?”
“I lied,” Mark says.
Renjun pulls his hand back. He’s doing it again, sinking into himself, looking at Mark with that hard, guarded expression he knows too well. “You are seeing someone.”
“No!” Mark says quickly.
He laughs, nervous, and reaches for Renjun’s hand again. It’s a mistake.
Renjun stands, crossing his arms over his chest.
The lights of the karaoke system dance over the side of his face – pink on his cheekbone, blue spotlighting his temple. Mark takes his time looking, studying the planes and curves of his face. If this is the last time he sees Renjun, he wants to commit it to memory, something beautiful to stand beside his other last-memory, when Renjun slammed the door and left Mark alone, vision blurring with fat, ugly tears.
“There’s no good way to put it,” Mark says. He swallows hard, lifting his gaze to meet Renjun’s. “I don’t have amnesia.”
Renjun doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.
Mark licks his lips, pressing on. “I don’t know why I said that. I was just…surprised to see you. And scared, too.”
“Scared,” Renjun repeats. Flat. Cold.
“Yeah, scared,” Mark says. He stands. “You disappeared, so it’s fine that you don’t know. It’s not like you had any responsibility to me, but—I was fucked up, after you. Everything was fucked up.”
There – a crack in Renjun’s ice. Mark can see the muscle along his jaw working as he chews on his bitter words, the things they both know he could say to break them, destroy whatever this is now. “I’m not going to apologize for that. You know how I felt.”
“I know now,” Mark murmurs. “I didn’t know then.”
“Fuck you,” Renjun says quietly. His voice wavers. He turns his face away, where the lights can’t reach it, and wipes at his cheeks. “Fuck, Mark. I thought this was going to be a second chance.”
“How is that fair?” Mark huffs. “You’ll only have me if I can’t remember you breaking my heart, is that it? Well, I’m sorry I remember. I’m sorry I loved you and messed it up back then. I’m trying to do the right thing so I don’t mess it up now.”
“It’s a little late,” Renjun snaps.
And then he’s going. He’s walking away, the door closing behind him, and Mark’s still standing there like a fool, the one who always gets left behind.
The ache wraps its icy hand around his ankle and climbs until he’s covered in it. There’s nothing left to keep him safe from it, so he lets it eat him whole. He picks up his coat and puts it on. He makes sure he has his wallet. He hesitates at the door and goes back for Renjun’s coat, draping it over his arm, then holding it to his chest, standing there, waiting for him to come back though he knows that’s not what Renjun does. Renjun doesn’t come back. He just runs.
It’s snowing when he steps outside. Not much, just enough for the flakes to fall and sting the back of his bare hands. The sensation grounds him where he stands. Mark takes a deep breath and tries to envision the way forward, the way to keep going.
He doesn’t have to go far alone.
A hand slips into his before he can cross the street. He follows it up to the owner, staring at Renjun’s flushed cheeks.
“I’m not leaving this time,” Renjun says, blinking watery eyes. “I’m pissed as hell, Mark, but. I’m not leaving.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Mark says quietly. “I swear.”
“I know,” Renjun says. He squeezes Mark’s hand. “Take me home?”
For all that Mark is supposed to accompany Renjun, he’s the one who ends up guided to his apartment, stumbling over his feet as he gets distracted by the feeling of Renjun’s hand in his.
Renjun helps him with his coat and hangs his own beside it.
He’s been here often in the past few months but has never made it through Mark’s doorway. Tonight, the truth hangs heavy between them, Mark’s head hanging heavier, and Renjun crosses over both their crumbling walls.
He sits on the edge of Mark’s bed. He doesn’t try to fold in on himself, looking small but not unassuming. In fact, he fills the room. Mark’s walls look a little brighter, with Renjun sitting there.
“Are you staying over?” Mark asks.
Renjun shrugs so Mark forgoes changing his clothes or offering Renjun a pair of his sweatpants. He sits beside him. They’re both quiet for some time, thinking, breathing. The urge to apologize again rises in Mark’s throat. He lets it stay there, knowing it wouldn’t do much good.
“You know,” Renjun says eventually, “you’ve changed a lot.”
“Probably,” Mark says. “It’s been a long time.”
Renjun hums. He taps his fingers on his knees, looking around the room. Mark wonders what he’s seeing, if there’s a distinctness between this space and the one they used to share together, if he likes the bedsheets, what color Renjun’s walls are.
He doesn’t ask any of that. “How long are you going to be mad at me?”
Renjun cuts him a look. “How long do you think I should be mad? What’s the usual penance for faking amnesia?”
Mark rubs the back of his neck. “A couple hours?”
Renjun snorts, shaking his head. He’s smiling.
“A couple days?” Mark tries.
“A few weeks, maybe,” Renjun says. “But maybe I’ll ease up for good behavior.”
If Mark laughs, Renjun might change his mind. He bites his lip, rubs his palms over his thighs, glances sideways at him. “There’s no chance you’ll forget about it, is there?”
Renjun twists around to grab Mark’s pillow and swings, smacking him dead center on the chest. The laugh bursts out before he can catch it again.
Renjun points a finger at him, the corner of the pillow still gripped loosely in his other hand. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make jokes about forgetting things.”
He can be angry, it’s fair. He can act it, too. Mark can survive a punishment. But he sees the glimmer of amusement in Renjun’s eyes. His lips curve upwards despite himself. Mark’s torn between letting him smile and kissing it off his face.
“Okay,” Mark hums, “I’ll try to remember that.”
He catches hold of the pillow before it can hit him again, wrenching it away. Instead of letting go, Renjun comes along with it, falling on top of him.
Mark laughs again as he falls onto his back on the mattress, Renjun hovering over him with the pillow held between them.
“I’ll smother you here, Mark,” Renjun says, “Jaehyun won’t know until the morning and he’ll let me get away with it, I promise you.”
“Well, if you promise,” Mark murmurs. It’s a useless fight – Mark’s still stronger than Renjun and he tosses the pillow to the floor when he wrests it from his grasp. He grabs Renjun’s wrists in lieu of it.
Renjun’s grin is dazzling. Mark blinks as if he can clear this dream from his vision, but Renjun’s still there every time he opens his eyes.
“What now, Mark?” Renjun asks.
When Mark’s grip loosens, Renjun slides his hands down and locks their fingers together, pressing Mark’s hands into the mattress. Mark’s pinned now, nowhere to go that isn’t Renjun. But there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
“Now?” Mark murmurs. “Now, we kiss.”
“Oh?” Renjun murmurs. “Sounds good to me.”