Archive of Our Own

The first year Mark goes out without his mom, he feels pretty good about himself.

“Chill on that shit,” Baekhyun says, and he swings Mark’s candy pillowcase around in a wide loop. “This is your first taste of independence as an eleven year old, and it’s not even real. I’m your babysitter.”

“First, I go out by myself all the time. Second, you’re not my babysitter,” Mark asserts. “You’re the adult tasked with making sure I’m not kidnapped.”

“Calling me an adult feels wrong,” Baekhyun says. “I’m still in high school.”

“Stop swinging around my loot,” Mark says. “If I lose so much as a Kit-Kat...”

“What, they haven’t taught you about centrifugal force yet?” Baekhyun asks, and he whips the pillowcase around even faster. “Haven’t got to that unit in, what grade are you in anyway, fourth?”

“Sixth,” Mark stresses. “God, I can’t believe this.”

“I can’t believe you wanted to dress up as a dated detective reference,” Baekhyun laughs, and he reaches over, twirling Mark’s mustache. “Isn’t that a bit, I dunno, niche?”

Mark shrugs. “I’m on the spectrum.”

“You can’t just say that anytime you feel like it,” Baekhyun says, and he reaches into Mark’s pillowcase, stealing a Snickers. When Mark raises a brow, Baekhyun lifts his shoulders. “What? I’m checking it for razorblades.”

“Calling Hercule Poirot dated is insane, he’s the most famous detective of all time,” Mark says.

“Sherlock?”

“Shut up,” Mark says. “What you just said should be a crime.”

“Well, you cracked the case, buddy. It was me. Take me away.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Give me a Twix.”

“Your candy preferences,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head as he passes one over. “Leaving much to be desired.”

“It seems like you desire a thirty percent cut of all my earnings,” Mark says. “You wouldn’t get very far without me, I’ll remind you.”

“Hush up,” Baekhyun says. “I could go to the Costco in New Rochelle and get two bags of this shit for like, I dunno, two dollars.”

“Have you been to a Costco before?”

“No, but who cares, I get the gist,” Baekhyun says, and he waves his hands as they walk down the busy street. “Bulk.”

“It doesn’t matter. My point is that you have to pay for that,” Mark says. “I’m your ticket to free stuff. I am your link to youth.”

“I’m only seventeen for Christ’s sake,” Baekhyun says, and he stops suddenly, sitting on the curb.

Mark sits beside him, and he watches as Baekhyun digs into the haul. Baekhyun passes Mark an Almond Joy. Sweet. His second favorite. He unwraps the little candy bar as Baekhyun fishes for another Reese’s, and the two of them indulge.

“No one would give candy to you,” Mark says, and he looks over at Baekhyun, “even if you were in costume.”

“I look fourteen,” Baekhyun says. “I am the very picture of youth.”

“I think I see a wrinkle.”

“You wanna fight me?” Baekhyun says. “I’ve seen about a dozen white vans so far. I will chuck you into the back of one of ‘em. I won’t feel bad either.”

Mark smiles, goes back to eating his candy, and Baekhyun bumps his shoulder into Mark’s as they sit there.

“So, hey… listen,” Baekhyun says. “Next year. I’ll be eighteen. I’ll be… well, you know.”

Mark’s stomach drops. He knows what’s coming. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. And Baekhyun’s no dummy, no matter how much he pretends. Plus Mark pays more attention than anyone knows. He’s seen the big books hanging from Baekhyun’s arm whenever he gets out of soccer to come hang out with Mark. He’s seen the little worry lines.

He’s an overachiever, just like Mark. And he’s going somewhere good.

“I got my letters, you know,” Baekhyun says.

“Barnard, Colgate, and RPI,” Mark recites. “I think, for a reach school, Barnard is a little below you, don’t you think? You could go to Columbia if you wanted. I saw your SAT scores. You’re kinda smart.”

Baekhyun scoffs. “Kinda.”

“Well, compared to some,” Mark says flatly.

“I’m staying close,” Baekhyun says. “That’s the point. I’ll be in the state no matter what. A-And Barnard is, like, right around the corner.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark says. “You should go where you want to go.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

There is some silence, some stillness. Even with the laughter of Halloween night, even with the children streaking by under the streetlights, even with the chocolate and the caramel and the sugar… Mark feels like the words have been pulled from him. He usually has a lot of words, a lot of thoughts. He doesn’t know. Something about right then… it steals them all away.

“Mark.”

Mark looks over, and Baekhyun has a Reese’s wrapper hanging from his hand.

“What?”

“I’ll only ever be a phone call away. You know that, right?” Baekhyun says.

Mark has been thinking about it for a while. Normally, he doesn’t analyze himself with too much depth. He feels what he feels, and that’s it. He is what he is.

“I don’t want you to go,” Mark says.

Baekhyun sighs, and it sounds loud to Mark’s ears.

“That’s probably the first time since I met you that you ever sounded your age,” Baekhyun says, and he reaches back into the pillowcase. “Here.”

He passes Mark a small pink box. Good & Plenty, the box reads. A classic dud candy, and not even the acceptable kind of duds like Milk Duds.

“I don’t want this,” Mark says, not completely able to hide the disgust from his voice.

“That’s life, kid,” Baekhyun says. “Eat the garbage, and thank God that at least it’s technically candy.”

Mark pops open the box, and he shakes a few of the little pink and white pellets into his hand. Baekhyun sticks out his own hand, and Mark does the same for him. Baekhyun balls his hand into a fist around the candies, if you could call them such, and then proceeds to bump his fist into Mark’s.

“Salut,” Baekhyun says.

“We’re Korean.”

“Geonbae, whatever, what does it matter?” Baekhyun says. “Cheers.”

Mark watches as Baekhyun tosses back the Good & Plenty, so he does the same. The taste of sweet licorice coats his tongue, and he swallows as soon as he can, sticking his tongue out after.

“W-What was the point of that?” Mark asks.

“I dunno,” Baekhyun says. “Felt symbolic.”

A beat, and then a question Mark can’t stop. “Do you really have to go?”

A beat, and a simple word that Mark knows Baekhyun can’t not say. “Yeah.”

“All right,” Mark says.

“Just like that? All right?”

“Yeah.”

Baekhyun smiles. “I like you.” He stands up, dusts off his butt before offering Mark his hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Poirot. Several more places to hit up before I return you.”

Mark smiles, and he takes Baekhyun’s hand, whisked away into the night.

Mark discovers that seventh grade and middle school in general isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. His mom keeps stressing that this is an important year to make some friends, and she tells him that he can invite whoever he wants over to the apartment whenever he wants.

He just doesn’t feel like it. Doesn’t like anyone enough to share his space with them. And he doesn’t think anyone likes him enough to want to try.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out tonight?” his mom asks. “Plenty of neighborhood kids are going. You could tag along.”

Mark sits on the couch, shrugging his left shoulder. “I don’t have a costume. I don’t want to go.”

“We could throw something together,” his mom encourages. “If you wanted to do Sherlock—”

“I don’t want to do Sherlock,” Mark says.

“Honey, I know it’s been hard since school started,” she says, but Mark is smart enough to fill in the blanks. Since Baekhyun left. “I really do think it’s important for you not to just sit home every day that you aren’t working on one of your projects.”

“I just don’t wanna go,” he says. He blinks at the television. “Sorry.”

He sees her sigh, the soft movement of her shoulders, out of his peripherals. He feels bad, wishes he could do something, but his hands are tied here.

“You know I have to go take care of grandma tonight,” she says. “I don’t feel good leaving you alone.”

“I don’t want to go to grandma’s,” Mark says.

“I would feel better if you came with me,” his mom says, and she folds her arms across her chest. She’s putting her foot down.

Mark is just about to open his mouth to argue (he’s been on his own plenty of times, he can dial 911 just fine, and he knows how to make himself various different meals without burning the building down) when his mother gets a phone call.

“Hello?” she answers, and then her face goes bright. “Oh, really?” A beat. “Really? Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” Another beat. “Honey. Oh, I’m really happy. He’ll be thrilled. Thank you.” She smiles. “Great. Okay. Bye bye now.” She hangs up and grabs her bag, chucking her phone into it.

“Who was that?” Mark asks.

“The next door neighbor,” she lies.

Mark’s mouth flattens to a line. “Are you nuts? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” she says. “Lock the door behind me. Give me a call if you need anything, okay?”

“What, you’re leaving?”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want to go?”

Mark shrugs, looks back to the blank television screen. “Yeah.”

“So then I’m going,” she says. “Have fun.”

Mark frowns as the door closes, and he gets up a couple seconds later to lock the door like she said. He put on a big show, but he didn’t really think she’d leave without him. And what was with that neighbor lie? They don’t talk to the neighbors outside of when they politely ask Mark to stop raising hell in the evenings, drumming on his desk (and occasionally the wall) as he thinks.

He puts it together just as there is a knock at the door, and he sucks in a breath. He doesn’t like to be pitied, but—

He opens the door, and Baekhyun is standing there, looking down at him.

“What up, short stuff?”

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Mark asks.

“I thought I’d come by for Halloween,” Baekhyun says. “It’s our little tradition or whatever. Didn’t wanna leave you hanging.” Baekhyun looks him up and down. Mark is dressed in his school clothes still. “Where’s the costume?”

“I didn’t wanna go out this year,” Mark says.

“No?”

“No,” Mark says. “What does it matter to you anyway?”

“Oh my God,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes. “Can I come in, or am I gonna be standing outside like a hooligan the whole night?”

Mark steps to the side, and Baekhyun enters, dropping his weekend bag at the door before kicking off his shoes. In truth, Mark is happy, but it feels a little childish to be so excited about Baekhyun dropping stuff just to come see him, so he puts a lid on it.

“Why are you here?” Mark asks. “Did my mom ask you to come?”

Baekhyun scoffs as he sits on the couch. “Why would you assume that?”

“She’s worried about me,” Mark says.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t have friends,” Mark says.

“Why not?”

“How should I know?” Mark asks.

“You’re the detective,” Baekhyun says. “Detect.”

Mark looks away, annoyed. “I dunno. People don’t like people like me.”

“Well, fuck people,” Baekhyun says, adding an “excuse my language” quickly.

Mark’s mouth moves before he can settle it. “Aren’t there, like, parties at college? For Halloween?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says, and he lets that be that.

“You didn’t have to come,” Mark says.

“Yeah, looks like a real riveting evening you’ve got going on here,” Baekhyun says. “What are your plans, huh? You gonna eat instant noodles and cry?”

Mark swallows over the pathetic feeling of bile that rises up in his throat.

“No,” he says defiantly.

“Then what?”

“I don’t know,” Mark says. “I don’t need you, you know.”

“You need someone,” Baekhyun says, and Mark frowns.

He doesn’t want to need anyone. He likes being on his own. He keeps telling everyone that. Maybe one day it will feel like the truth.

“Are you staying the weekend?” Mark asks.

“You want me to stay?” Baekhyun asks, and that’s when Mark susses it out. Figures out what Baekhyun wants. “I could go to my parents’ place. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

He wants Mark to admit that he wants him around.

“Whatever,” Mark says. “I don’t care.”

Baekhyun sighs. “Teenagers fucking suck,” he says.

“I’m twelve, thank you,” Mark says. “Not a teenager.”

“Whatever, a technicality. Come sit down,” Baekhyun says. “You wanna watch something scary or just spooky?”

Baekhyun is tapping at his phone, and Mark sits down next to him. “Just spooky, I guess.”

“Halloweentown it is,” he says, and he lifts his phone to his face. “Hi. Delivery? Yeah. One large pepperoni...”

“And cheese fries,” Mark interjects.

“And an order of cheese fries. And a two liter of Coke. Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” Baekhyun says before quickly rattling off the address. “Okay, how much and how long? Okay. Great. Thanks.” He hangs up, looks at Mark looking at him. “What?”

“I don’t have money.”

“I got cash,” Baekhyun says, patting his pocket. “Go get my bag. I got the movie in there too.”

Mark goes to Baekhyun’s bag, unzipping it to find a large bag of mini-sized generic brand candy bars. Mark frowns. He probably stopped at the Costco on his drive back from school.

Underneath the candy, Mark finds the movie options.

“You were going to show me Saw?” Mark asks, holding up the DVD box.

“I dunno what kids like,” Baekhyun shrugs. “Bring over the children’s entertainment. Oh, and the candy.”

Mark is pretty smart for his age, he knows that. He’s smart enough to know that they both try to act older than they are.

For now, they can just be, he thinks. They eat their candy, their pizza when it comes, and they talk about Disney Channel Original Movies. Mark doesn’t think about friends for the rest of the marking period. He’s got at least one, and that’s better than none.

They don’t even do anything special in school. He misses being younger sometimes. They would get parties, at least. Days when he could do puzzles in his book or busily write notes to himself about cases.

He goes home that day, some random Wednesday, and on the way back, he stops and picks himself up a candy bar. Buys it, like, with money and everything. On Halloween of all days. It should be illegal for a kid to buy his own candy on Halloween.

Mark doesn’t know why it matters. He’s never really been big on holidays.

Sometimes he remembers when he was little, wishing with all his heart that he was bigger than he was. Older. Mark already wishes he could go back. Things were better. He didn’t realize how alone he was then. He was oblivious to it in a lot of ways.

Baekhyun comes over after his mom leaves for her night shift. He brings pizza, a movie, and a friend.

“I thought your mom said you were gonna go trick or treating before we came,” Baekhyun says, coming in and kicking off his shoes. He gestures at Mark’s school clothes. “What gives?”

Mark stares at the boy who follows Baekhyun in. Mark’s never thought of himself as jealous. What’s there to be jealous of, anyway?

“I’m getting a little old for it, don’t you think? I mean, I’m in eighth grade. Besides, I had something to work on,” Mark says, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at the other boy. “Who’s he?”

“My friend from school,” Baekhyun says, and he throws his arm around the boy’s neck, knocking their heads together lightly. “This is Jongin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jongin says cheerfully. “Baekhyun’s told me a lot about you!”

Mark looks Jongin over. He speaks with a tone that I’m good with kids, a smile that says I love being good with kids.

“He hasn’t mentioned you,” Mark says.

“Oh, come on,” Baekhyun says. “I’ve told you about him.”

“No,” Mark says. “I have a good memory. Crystal clear.”

Jongin turns to Baekhyun, and he socks him in the shoulder. “Don’t talk about me, huh?”

“I talk about you, I talk about you!” Baekhyun says before turning to Mark. “You’re a shithead sometimes.”

He walks to the kitchen table, sets the pizza down, and goes to Mark’s fridge. Just who does he think he is, anyway? So comfortable in Mark’s place… it’s been months since Baekhyun’s come over, and now he just comes back like it doesn’t matter.

“Didn’t you get cheese fries?” Mark asks.

“Sorry bud, money’s tight,” Baekhyun says, and he pulls a couple cans of Coke from Mark’s fridge. “I’m a broke college student, after all.”

“I would have gotten them,” Jongin says. “Why didn’t you say?”

“You always pay for everything.”

Mark looks between them, angry and confused. He huffs, opens the pizza box, and grabs himself a slice. He walks back to the couch, leaving them in the dust. It’s funny, just a couple hours ago, he was wishing he was younger, and now he’s back to wanting the opposite.

He feels dumb as he sits on the little loveseat by himself. He doesn’t care that Baekhyun has friends, after all. He should have friends. Everyone should.

“So, Baekhyun tells me you’re a detective,” Jongin says, and he folds both legs underneath himself as they sit on the couch. “That’s so cool.”

Mark shrugs. “Pays the bills.”

“Oh my God,” Jongin says, looking at Baekhyun. “He’s adorable.”

“He’s got ears,” Mark says.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jongin says. “Just, you know… your reputation precedes you. I hear all these stories about the cases you solved and stuff.” He takes a bite of his pizza, chewing it. “Anything cool lately?”

There has been, of course. It’s been good. Keeping his mind off of everything else. Being able to focus on something.

“Yeah,” Mark says, and he doesn’t elaborate.

Jongin seems to get the hint, doesn’t engage with him any further. Mark is happy. It’s not that he doesn’t like Jongin. He just doesn’t know Jongin.

They eat their food and watch Ghostbusters in near silence, and once Jongin gets up to go to the bathroom, Baekhyun swoops down on him.

“Hey, what’s your problem?”

“You didn’t even tell me you were bringing someone,” Mark says. “It’s my house, you know.”

“It’s a school night. We took the train together,” Baekhyun says. “Chill.”

“It’s just not very considerate is all.”

“Well, I’ll try to consider you a little harder next time I’m going out of my way to visit,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes before he seems to think better of it with a huff. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll tell you next time.”

“Okay,” Mark says.

“Okay.” A beat. “He’s cool, you know. And he really does like hearing about what you’re working on. He asks about you a lot.”

Mark’s mouth moves. “Okay.”

“Maybe you could tell him about what you’re doing now,” Baekhyun says. “All that stuff with the fundraiser money.”

“Yeah,” Mark says.

“Any leads?”

Mark shrugs. He’s being awful but sometimes he can’t stop himself.

Jongin comes back, smiling. “Sorry. We can unpause.”

Jongin sits down on the couch next to Baekhyun, and Mark watches as Jongin pats Baekhyun on the thigh. Mark is confused, but for some reason, it makes him change his mind.

“I’m trying to figure out who stole money for the pond fundraiser,” Mark says as Rick Moranis monologues. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh yeah?” Jongin smiles. “Any leads?”

“I should get my notebook if we want to talk business,” Mark says.

Jongin raises his arms like be my guest, so Mark leaps up off the couch and heads to his bedroom. He pauses just before leaving his room, ear near the door. He can hear the whispers, but he can’t make out the words. Something turns his stomach, but he goes back into the living room, and Baekhyun and Jongin smile at him, splitting apart on the couch so he can sit between them with his notebook.

He cracks it open, and he flips to the page neatly labeled The Case of the Missing Pond Funds.

“Wow,” Jongin says. “Very professional.”

“You have to be,” Mark says, “or no one will ever take you seriously.”

Mark is walking down the street, and Jongin is at his back. Jongin is wearing a sweater with a sequined pumpkin on it.

“You can slow down, you know,” Jongin says. “It’s not a race.”

“I don’t want to miss anything,” Mark says.

“It’s paused.”

“Still.”

Jongin jogs up beside Mark. “What kind of soda do you like best?”

“Orange,” Mark says.

“Yeah? Any particular brand?”

“You know Royal Tru Orange?” Mark asks.

“No?”

“It’s from the Philippines,” Mark says. “That’s the best.”

“Really? You had it shipped?”

Mark nods. “I take orange soda seriously. I find brands. I drink them. I judge them. I put them on a list.”

“Where’s, like, something like Crush fall on the list? Just your standard, run of the mill orange soda.”

Normally, Mark would quibble with the phrasing. Standard is subjective, after all, but he’s gotten pretty good at overlooking things like that. Or if he isn’t overlooking them, he doesn’t need to voice every little objection of his.

“It’s fifth,” Mark says. “But I have a bias.”

“What’s your bias?”

“I prefer that… that fountain taste,” Mark says. “Like you know how McDonald's orange drink tastes? The Hi-C stuff?”

“Of course,” Jongin says, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Nostalgia colors my world,” Mark says. “So I’m biased. Sweet but not so much that it hurts your teeth. A little sour. A little biting. Nice and bubbly. Something that makes you go ah after you’ve tasted it.”

“The illustrious ah factor,” Jongin laughs. “You ever have a Stewarts?”

“I didn’t include any specifically branded orange and cream sodas in the ranking,” Mark says, and he looks over at Jongin. “But yeah I’ve had it.”

“What’s the verdict?”

“Pretty delicious,” Mark says.

“See, this is a man with taste,” Jongin says, and he puts his arm around Mark’s neck as they walk down the street.

In that moment, Mark is forced to reflect on the past year. He never really thought he’d be here, walking down the street on Halloween night with Jongin of all people, but the two of them, Jongin and Baekhyun… they’ve been making the effort to come see Mark a lot. They drive down on the weekends, and they help him with detective stuff. They drive him to jobs, they take him to get food, and they even help his mom with grocery shopping.

Sometimes he doesn’t get it.

They get to the corner store, and Jongin starts grabbing things off the shelves. Mark’s mom only left him a twenty though, so Mark clears his throat.

Jongin turns. “What?”

Mark whips out his crisp bill and waves it. “Twenty bucks.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, and he goes back to grabbing snacks like a hunter-gatherer. “I got it, buddy.”

Jongin always does that, offers to buy. Mark shrugs because Jongin grabbed a little bag of Munchos, and Mark really likes those.

It still sometimes feels like Jongin is trying to win him over. Mark should say that he’s already been won.

They go through the winding, pleasantly small aisles before arriving at the counter. The man smiles at Mark, and Jongin slides the money across. The man smiles at Jongin before handing him the bags, and Jongin carries two while he gives Mark the lightest one, filled with the chips.

“I can carry heavy stuff,” Mark argues. “I hit a growth spurt.”

“I was gonna say,” Jongin says, and he pushes through the door, the little bell jingling. “You’re gonna be taller than Baekhyun soon.”

Mark shouts out a laugh. “Do you think?”

“Oh yeah,” Jongin says, and they begin their walk home. “Short shit like him? You’ll be there by next year probably.” He looks back, dead serious. “Don’t tell him I said that. He’s very sensitive.”

Mark finds himself smiling as they walk.

“I heard you found a new friend,” Jongin says.

“Oh,” Mark says. “Y-Yeah, Johnny.”

He thinks back to the case at the end of the last year, to everything that’s happened since. The falling out with Baekhyun, the… the everything. It feels like he’s changed so much in such a short period of time. It's like when the bones stretch overnight, and you’re left with growing pains in the morning.

“You guys still talk? You and Johnny?”

Mark shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“He went to college this year, right?” Jongin asks. Mark nods. “Where’d he go?”

“Some theater school,” Mark says. “I dunno.”

Mark knows, of course, but he wants to sound adult and nonchalant.

“So he’s busy, huh?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Mark says, and his throat aches. It bursts out of him. “It’s just that anytime I make a friend, they immediately have to go someplace else.”

He walks down the street, and the lights get blurry.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jongin says. “I mean, we’re friends, right?”

Mark looks at him. “We wouldn’t be friends if it weren’t for Baekhyun.”

“I wouldn’t be friends with Baekhyun if it weren’t for school bringing us together,” Jongin says. “I mean, you can play that game with anyone, right?” Jongin moves his hands. “Certain things bring us together. But that doesn’t mean we necessarily jive.”

“R-Right,” Mark says.

“But you and me,” Jongin smiles. “We jive, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So whenever something’s up between you and Baekhyun, you can always come to me,” Jongin says. “Or even… even if there isn’t anything up between you two. We can talk. You’ve got my number, right?”

“Yeah,” Mark says.

“Then don’t be afraid to use it,” Jongin smiles. “I’m always here for my favorite detective.”

Mark watches Jongin as they finish their walk in silence. They walk up to the apartment, and Baekhyun opens the door.

“God, what took you so long?” he asks, grabbing the bags from Jongin’s hands. “You two get lost?”

“Shut up,” Mark says. “You’re the lazy one who didn’t wanna go.”

“I was watching the house,” Baekhyun says, and he unpacks all the snacks onto the counter. “Burglary is up in this neighborhood.”

Mark rolls his eyes, takes his seat on the couch, and lets the two of them sort out the food situation. He looks back, watching them move around each other in the tiny kitchen, and their hips bump. They smile at each other, and Mark looks away, puzzled. He knew they were close, but… well, it doesn’t matter.

Sometimes it still feels like Jongin’s only around because of Baekhyun, but some things… some things stick out.

Baekhyun is about to pour a Coke for Mark, and Jongin sticks out his hand. Mark looks back, watching him grab for the bottle of Sunkist.

“You don’t even know his favorite soda?” Jongin asks, and he tsks.

“Hey, I was here first, fucker,” Baekhyun says. “He’s my friend, not yours.”

Mark looks back to the television, paused on a scene of The Addams Family. He has to remind himself. His friend count is up to three.

He knew this Halloween night would not be normal.

“Well, if you knew it wouldn’t be normal, you could have warned me,” Baekhyun says, stepping through the mud in his precious name brand sneakers.

Mark laughs as he keeps trekking through the forgotten forest by the abandoned hospital. The footprints led them here, back around the building, and if they led towards the highway, well… then Mark had a whole other mystery on his hands. Did he hop in a car? Why would he take off without another word with no money?

“Now remember, your mom said home by ten,” Jongin reminds them.

“I got it, I got it,” Baekhyun says. “I got an alarm on my phone.”

“Well, I just don’t want us to get lost,” Jongin says, and he looks around the tree trunks. “S-So we’re following footprints.”

“And it’s gonna rain again tomorrow,” Baekhyun groans. “It seems like it rained pretty damn recently to me.”

“Enough about the shoes,” Jongin says. “You’re pitiful.”

“Am I? Well I’m using your toothbrush to clean ‘em.”

“Shh,” Mark says, looking back over his shoulder. “I’m trying to think here.”

“Yeah,” Jongin says, looking back at Baekhyun who, in turn, is looking at his shoes. “Shh.”

Mark rolls his eyes, and he looks back to the winding trail. Why run? Why lead them on this wild goose chase? He must have known he would be followed. He must have known that there would be people looking for him. He wants to lose them. Why, he asks himself. Who would ever want to be lost?

They make their way through the dark woods, and as they walk, Mark can’t help but think it is the perfect journey for a Halloween night. The sky is black, the stars are yellow and bright, and the trees are without their leaves. They are hunting for clues, he’s tracing back the footprints with his two of his best friends, and Mark’s heart… he feels silly thinking it, but he’s never been so happy, even when he hits a dead end.

They make it to the highway, and the traffic is thin but still there. There’s no car in sight, and Mark puts his hands on his hips in frustration.

“What?” Baekhyun asks. “What’s wrong? Why’s he doing the Sad Mark pose?”

“Come on,” Mark says with a frown. “We’re not gonna get anywhere tonight.”

“Maybe, like, CCTV footage,” Jongin suggests. And he points towards the toll station nearby. “They’d have that, right?”

“Like I said,” Mark says, “nowhere tonight.”

“Dang,” Jongin says. “I’m sorry, bud. I know this one has been hard.”

Mark shrugs. “You win some, you lose some.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Baekhyun says, and when they look back, he has sat himself on the guard rail, trying to scrape the thick layer of mud off the sides of his shoes.

Jongin nudges him softly, and then, all hell breaks loose.

Baekhyun loses his balance, screeching as he falls, and he swiftly lands in the dirt. Or… it would have been dirt.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” Baekhyun whines, hands thick with mud, streaked up his sides too. “You said you loved me! Now look at me! I look like the fucking swamp monster from Candy Land.”

“Gloppy,” Mark informs him fondly.

“Not important right now, Mark.”

“Right, sorry,” Mark says, and he turns to Jongin. “Do you have a sheet in your car?”

“I do,” Jongin says. “Come on, let’s get you into some clean clothes.”

Jongin offers Baekhyun a hand, but Baekhyun smacks it out of the way, grumbling as he stands.

“Never again,” Baekhyun says. “Never again!”

The car ride is funny, and eventually, Baekhyun relents.

“I’m a good actor,” Baekhyun says. “I’m very funny, but also I’m very committed to my bit.”

“That was not a bit,” Jongin laughs. “You were legitimately mad.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

Mark watches from the back seat as they squabble back and forth, hands braced on his notebook over his lap. When they get back to the house, Baekhyun informs them that from now on, they will keep detective work to November 1st and that Halloween is reserved for their annual tradition of pizza, movies, and soda.

“Go get a shower,” Mark says. “You have pajamas anyway, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Baekhyun says, and he wraps Jongin’s sheet a little tighter around his body, almost like he’s a mummy, before grabbing his overnight bag from the table. “The point is that now it feels like we’re having a sleepover. Like I’m twelve. Like I’m your age. Like I’m not about to graduate. From college.”

“You have a pair of sweats in my car if you’re embarrassed by the footie pajamas,” Jongin smiles.

“Also, I’m fifteen, okay?” Mark screeches, and his voice cracks horribly. The two of them look at him with delight. “Oh my God. I’m going away. I’m going to jump out the nearest window.”

Baekhyun bursts into a fit of laughter, but it diligently fades as he tries to avoid tracking mud through Mark’s home. He closes the door to the bathroom behind him, and a few seconds later, he hears the shower turn on.

“Do you feel bad?” Mark asks.

“A little,” Jongin says. “I didn’t think he’d fall.”

Mark shrugs. “Sometimes he deserves it.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Don’t,” Mark pleads. “I was only joking.”

Jongin pulls him forward, gives him a quick hug. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

“I try my best.”

Mark’s never been to a party before that hasn’t been for a family member or himself.

“No sweat,” Johnny says, and he reaches over, patting Mark on the leg as they drive. “It’s close, you’ll be safe, I promise. No worries.”

As long as Mark’s known Johnny, that’s been his motto. No worries. Mark has some worries, and he thinks that’s normal. He’s always wanted to go to a party though, so for that night, he puts all his worry aside and he focuses on the cool music Johnny puts on in the car.

The drive is over quickly, though, and they pull up at an apartment building that Mark’s never seen before. It’s old brick and stone, kind of a shady neighborhood. Mark pats his pocket to remind himself that he’s got his phone.

“Ready?” Johnny asks, locking up his car with a smile.

Mark nods, and he follows Johnny upstairs. As soon as they get to the first landing, Mark hears the music thumping through the building. It is a bit overwhelming, the bass and drums thrumming in his ears already, but he follows Johnny up anyway. When they step inside the apartment, it is packed with people, and there is smoke in the air. There are string lights of orange and purple strung haphazardly along the walls, and it gives the smoke a spooky vibe.

Mark coughs sharply.

“Sorry,” Johnny says, and he looks back at Mark. “You sure you’re okay with this kind of thing? We could go back to my dorm and just watch movies.”

Mark frowns. “I’m fine with this.”

“You sure? Anytime you wanna leave, just let me know, okay? And no drinking, obviously.”

“Are you my dad?” Mark asks.

“You’re my responsibility,” Johnny says. “So be good.”

Mark shrugs, and he dips his hands into his pockets as he looks around. There is a game of beer pong that is on-going, and Mark wanders over on his own. He watches a few rounds go back and forth before one of the people looks at him.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Mark,” he says. “I’m Johnny’s friend.”

“Oh my God, you’re so cute,” a girl says, cooing. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Mark says. “Well, I just turned sixteen. I’ve been sixteen for a minute or two.”

“Have you ever played pong before?” she asks, and she slips a bit to the side.

She’s drunk, he realizes. It’s weird. He’s seen drunk people in movies before, and he’s seen a few people on the street, but he’s never seen someone so young this drunk. It’s just strange.

“Have you ever been to Dave & Buster’s?” Mark asks, raising his voice to yell over the music.

“Dave?” she asks, confused, and she looks across the room. “What do you mean?”

“They have this game there,” Mark says. “It’s called Red Cup Challenge. I think they brand it that way because they can’t legally call it Beer Pong, I dunno. And they can’t use the word SOLO either, you know? Copyright.”

“I’m not following,” she says, and she brushes her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

“I’m good at Red Cup Challenge,” Mark clarifies.

“Oh,” she says with a smile. “You should play. You wanna be on my team?”

He looks at the table, shrugs. “Okay.”

The girl puts her arm around Mark’s neck, and she smells like beer and perfume. It’s a weird combination.

“Me and Mark got next,” she says.

“Who is he?” one of the other guys asks.

“He’s Mark,” she says. “He’s my little brother.”

“Cool,” the guy says, and he waves. “I’m Dave.”

“Oh,” Mark says, and he looks between the girl and Dave. “I get it.”

“Get what?”

“Never mind,” Mark says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Are you old enough to drink?” another guy asks.

“I started drinking when I was fourteen,” Dave scoffs.

“That’s not admirable,” the other guy says. “Where’s John?”

“It’s okay,” Mark says quickly. “I’ve drank before. I drink all the time.”

“Yeah?” The guy narrows his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “How many beers do you drink? Just, like, normal night?”

“Twelve,” Mark says, trying to appear confident.

“You’re a bad liar,” the girl says. “My name is Megan.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mark says, and she grabs her can of beer. Natural Light, Mark notes. “A-Am I still allowed to play?”

“I’ll drink for you,” Megan says. “How’s that?”

Mark’s never made a friend so quickly before.

“Sounds good,” Mark says, and he stands off to the side, waiting for their turn on the table.

Much later in the evening, after Mark and his friend Megan have swept the other team six rounds in a row, she heads to the bathroom. Dave and Sal have ordered pizza from down the street, and over a slice of pepperoni, Mark fishes his hand into the cooler when no one is looking. He grabs a Natural Light, pops the tab on it, and sniffs at it. It just smells like cold white bread, like white bread that’s been stored in the fridge, so he takes a curious sip. It honestly doesn’t taste like much, doesn’t taste that bad either, so he takes another couple sips and then takes a bite of his pizza.

It’s a good combination, pizza and beer, and suddenly, Mark understands why people drink. It’s fun. He looks around, and he sees Johnny leaning against a wall, a soda in his hand as he talks to a girl. Mark smiles. Johnny’s nice. Mark’s glad he came.

Mark drinks three beers before it goes to his head. Unfortunately, that is exactly when Johnny spots him.

“What the fuck,” Johnny says, and he takes Mark by the arm. “Are you crazy?”

“No,” Mark says. “But I think I’m a little drunk.”

“Of course you’re drunk, you’re like eighty pounds soaking wet,” Johnny says. He looks around, furious, and then when he looks back to Mark, he looks super concerned. “Oh my God, what am I gonna do? I’m gonna get in so much trouble.” He drags Mark to his feet. “I told you to be good.”

“I was good,” Mark says. “I won beer pong. I am the champion.”

“Yeah, I heard, you’re fucking awesome,” Johnny says, and it’s the angriest Mark’s ever seen him.

“Don’t be mad at me,” Mark says weakly, and he holds onto Johnny’s hand as they walk through the door, down the stairs. “Don’t be mad. Don’t call my mom.”

“I’m not gonna call your mom,” Johnny says. “I’m driving you home, and you’re not mentioning this to anyone. Ever.”

The ride home is silent, but it can’t quiet the heartbeat in Mark’s ears. He can do whatever he wants. He’s not held back by… by preconceived notion or by himself. He can be the person he wants to be. He can be anyone.

“Hey,” Johnny says sharply, and he nudges Mark on the shoulder. “You fell asleep.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mark says.

“Get upstairs,” Johnny says. “Drink water. Text me in the morning. I swear to God, Mark…”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Mark says. “I just wanted to try.”

Johnny frowns, but he leans over and pulls Mark into a hug. “Don’t do that shit again.”

“Okay,” Mark says. “Megan was nice.”

“Yeah, she’s cool.”

“Date her,” Mark says.

Johnny scoffs, and he pushes Mark back with a smile. “Upstairs. Water. Text in the morning.”

Mark wobbles out of the car and up the stairs. He locks the door behind him, and he grabs a water bottle from the fridge. He opens it up, drinks about half of it in one go, and goes to his mom’s room.

He opens the door softly, and she stirs immediately.

“What time ‘s it?” she asks sleepily.

“Uh, late,” Mark says.

She leans up on her elbow, and she glares at him. “How late?”

Mark checks his phone. “T-Three.”

“In the morning?” she asks, her voice cracking.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Johnny,” she shakes her head.

“It was my fault,” Mark says. “I told him I wanted to stay.”

She lays back down. “Go to sleep. You have to do your chores tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Mark says. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiles, and Mark closes the door behind him.

Mark goes to his room, and he flops onto his bed. He pulls out his phone, and he texts in the group chat with Baekhyun and Jongin.

I drank tonight, he says, a secret smile on his face.

The response is immediate and overwhelming. His phone rings with Jongin’s number popping up, and as soon as he answers, he is met with an incredible wall of noise.

“Alcohol?” Jongin asks. “You drank alcohol?”

“What’d you drink?” Baekhyun asks in the background. “Did you throw up?”

“I drank three beers,” Mark boasts.

“What kind of beer?” Baekhyun asks.

“Stop encouraging him,” Jongin says. “He’s sixteen.”

“He’s gonna get into trouble sometime.”

“Because he grew up around you,” Jongin says.

“As if I’m such a bad influence,” Baekhyun says.

“You are with stuff like this. Boys will be boys.”

“I didn’t say that, don’t put that evil on me.”

Mark closes his eyes, listening to them bicker. That’s exactly how he falls asleep, and in the morning, he apologizes to Johnny.

They’re both busy on Mark’s birthday which is fine. It was a weeknight, and he understands it’s hard for them now. They’re, like, real adults, and not like the kind he’ll be next year. Eighteen and expected to know everything. And Mark’s different, obviously—he knows most things. Still, it feels a little different, knowing Baekhyun and Jongin are old enough to have full time jobs with obligations and responsibilities and stuff.

They promise to celebrate on Halloween, and that’s good enough for Mark. He tried something different last year and it was fun, but ultimately, he decided that this was better.

They arrive early in the morning, and Baekhyun zips around the apartment with Mark’s mom, bags being stuffed into Mark’s mom’s bedroom. Mark furrows his eyebrows.

“What the hell is going on?” he asks.

“Language,” his mom says.

“What the heck is going on?” he corrects.

“I’m gonna take you out for some breakfast,” Jongin says happily. “They’re gonna set stuff up.”

“For what?” Mark asks. “What are you setting up?”

“What does it matter?” Baekhyun calls. “Stop being nosey and go get your donut.”

“We’re getting donuts?” Mark asks Jongin.

“Is that what you want?”

Mark shrugs. “I could go for a bagel.”

“Then let’s go get a bagel.”

They eat outside, and the morning holds a pleasant chill. Jongin gets him a chocolate milk, and Mark wants to tell him that he actually started drinking coffee but he feels like Jongin might chastise him for that. He keeps his mouth shut.

It’s nice seeing Jongin after a pretty long time apart, but Mark is heartened to remember that he has other friends, has a good little group of people his own age for the first time. He loves Baekhyun and Jongin, obviously, but it’s nice to have options, isn’t it?

They eat in the cold October air, and Jongin nudges him under the table with his foot.

“What?” Mark asks, mouth full of onion bagel.

“We missed you,” Jongin says.

Mark feels his face heat a little. “I missed you guys too.”

“How’s school?”

Mark shrugs. “It’s school.”

“You excited for college?” Jongin asks.

Mark shrugs again. “I guess.”

“No excitement? No wonder?”

“I dunno,” Mark says. “I guess. I mostly… I feel like I’m gonna miss it here.”

“You will,” Jongin nods, and he sips at his own milk. “I think that part is natural. But also, you’ll have a lot of fun. You’ll meet people you like. You’ll find some work.”

“Shut up,” Mark smiles, looking away towards the street.

“But I’m serious,” Jongin says. “It’s okay to leave us in the rearview, bud.”

“I don’t want that.”

“We’ll always be here waiting for you to come home,” Jongin assures him.

That kind of thing doesn’t usually work on him, getting him all teary-eyed. Must be the air. The spirit of the holiday. Mark smiles. He likes knowing that they’ll be waiting.

Mark finishes his bagel, and they go to the car. He goes to hop in the passenger seat when he notices Baekhyun’s things strewn about the backseat, most noticeably a pair of underwear that he knows aren’t Jongin’s. Jongin wears boxer-briefs. These are boxers. They must be Baekhyun’s.

“Why do you have Baekhyun’s underwear in your car?” Mark asks, slipping into the seat and buckling his seatbelt.

“You know we live together, right?” Jongin snorts, and he puts the car into drive before pulling away from the curb. “And we share a car?”

“Yeah, but…” and he looks back to the haphazard collection of Baekhyun’s things in Jongin’s car, suddenly piecing everything together.

Over the years. The way they look at each other. It’s not exactly normal, and Mark should know. He’s never been normal either.

“A-Are you guys boyfriends?” Mark asks suddenly.

“O-Oh my God,” Jongin says, and he keeps his eyes forward, very careful. “Maybe we should wait until later to talk about this.”

“Well, are you?”

“Baekhyun should be here for this,” Jongin says, and he suddenly begins to drive a lot more erratically than normally. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Mark asks. “Is it a secret?”

“Shut up,” Jongin says, “I’m sorry. Shush.”

“Why? Are you boyfriends?”

Jongin’s face is red, and his hand is tight on the wheel. He pulls out his phone, quickly calling Baekhyun, the phone held out to the side.

“You’re on speaker,” Jongin says quickly.

“What’s up?” Baekhyun answers. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you guys gay together?” Mark yells.

Baekhyun erupts into a fit of laughter, and at Mark’s side, Jongin fumes.

“It’s not funny,” Jongin says.

“Like it’s an emergency,” Baekhyun says.

“We never talked about this possibility.”

“What possibility?” Mark asks. “What’s going on?”

“We’re gay together,” Baekhyun confirms. “I was gonna tell you eventually. I didn’t think you’d ever figure it out.”

Mark frowns. He doesn’t like the feeling of being late to the party.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark asks. “Huh?”

“I honest to God thought you’d figure it out before now,” Baekhyun says, voice thin over the phone. “Mr. Detective.”

“Shut up!” Mark says. “You guys were hiding it!”

“We were not,” Baekhyun says. “We didn’t hide.”

“I didn’t see you guys kiss once,” Mark says.

“Well, that would not have been very appropriate,” Jongin says quietly.

“You need us to kiss in front of you in order to deduce we’re dating?” Baekhyun says loudly. “What kind of detective are you, huh?”

Mark folds his arms across his chest, and he flops back into the seat.

“You’re not mad, right?” Jongin asks.

“If you’re mad, that’s super childish,” Baekhyun inserts.

“Shut up,” Jongin says.

“I’m not mad,” Mark says. “I just wish I had figured it out before now.”

“We all have off days,” Jongin says, and he reaches over to pat Mark on the leg.

“I’ve been off every day since I was thirteen?” Mark asks.

Baekhyun laughs sharply, and Jongin chastises him again. In truth, it doesn’t matter that much. A little injury to his pride? He can take that. He’s mostly just glad they’re happy.

When they get back to the house, he walks in and they have decorated everything in orange, purple, and black. There is a small cake box on the table, his mom is pulling something from the oven, and Baekhyun is sitting on the couch, feet on the floor. He bets his mom already scolded him and told him to get his feet off the coffee table. He smiles to himself, and Baekhyun looks back over his shoulder.

“What’s up?” Baekhyun asks. “Have fun?”

“Yeah, it was fun,” Mark says, and he kicks off his shoes. “Jongin’s a wreck.”

“I’m not a wreck,” Jongin says, hair looking distinctly frazzled.

“Help with these Rice Krispie treats,” his mom says, stirring at the pot on the stove.

“Yes, Mrs. Lee,” Jongin says, and he hurries to the kitchen.

Mark goes to the couch, and he sits down next to Baekhyun.

“Thanks for coming,” Mark says. “Thanks for doing all this.”

“You only turn seventeen once,” Baekhyun says.

“Two months ago,” Mark smiles.

“Oh, hold it over my head forever, why don’t you?” Baekhyun says, and he takes Mark’s neck under his arm, rubbing his knuckles against Mark’s scalp.

Mark is too big for that now, pretty much bigger than Baekhyun, but he lets Baekhyun do whatever he wants.

He thinks he’ll miss moments like this, the more he grows. He thinks he should commit them to memory while he can.