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“Chew on this,” Chenle told Mark other day, seated across the dining table, his words bolded in his own special brand of brazen conviction despite being muffled by a mouthful of rice, and Mark had a snort slash ‘chew on your food first’ ready when Chenle asked, “what does The Dude have that you don’t?”
A license, Mark answers in his head, belatedly, begrudgingly, because if he hadn’t forgotten his wallet at the apartment, he wouldn’t be in the passenger seat of Renjun’s car at some godforsaken hour trying his best not to unbuckle this seatbelt (suddenly suffocating) and jump out the vehicle as it speeds down the parkway; but Renjun keeps his promises despite the physical pain that this awkwardness (practically palpable) is most definitely causing him, pain worse than this never-before-seen, never-even-a-consideration-in-anybody’s-mind bruise painting itself across Mark’s knuckles, one that only sears red-hot when they make fleeting, accidental eye contact in the rear view mirror; in those instances, in the wordlessness, the car seems smaller, their bodies feel closer, and his face burns hotter.
Because Mark is usually careful but when it comes to Renjun he isn’t— he’s clumsy and he’s stupid and his heart acts before his head can pull the trigger on the starting pistol, running some million miles a second in his chest, running races that he knows he can’t win; because he didn’t know— no— he tried not to think about how much he cared until right before his fist went flying into The Dude’s jaw; because he knew The Dude, in all his words cloyingly saccharine sweet, never cared anyway; because when Mark looks away after meeting Renjun’s eyes, his gaze lands on the just-as-bruised knuckles lining the steering wheel and he plants his palms into his lap to stop himself from reaching out and bringing the knuckles to his lips; because calling this awkward is a cop-out and with everything that’s happened, they might as well stop lying to themselves, let their gazes linger for a little longer, and call it what it is.
Tension likes to make itself known after the fact— in the dimples his grip leaves on the steering wheel, in the deeper breath he takes at every red light, in the far too drawn out space that follows the milliseconds where Renjun’s eyes meet Mark’s; it’s a well-known fact that Renjun will always relent, constantly weaponized against him by Chenle and/or Jisung— that plus their being youngest wielded as perfect dual swords for when they’re hungry and particularly broke— and Renjun tries so hard to convince himself that he knows precisely what’s good for him, but the condition comes with a fine print: Renjun will always relent if he wants it too; Renjun agrees to pay for Chenle and Jisung’s meals because, to him, hot pot can never not be a good idea; Renjun steal glances because he wants to find Mark there, because he’s beginning to think that there’s no point in holding back.
Because, once, when he hadn’t eaten an entire day, Mark showed up to the library with a clumsily-constructed sandwich, an Iced Americano, and a sheepish smile; because when it was pouring out and neither of them had an umbrella, Mark gave him his windbreaker even though they were bound to get soaked anyway; because when he needed the club fair banner done by the morning, Mark stayed up with him, doing his best to keep the paint in the lines; because when The Dude stood him up, Mark came straight from practice, still in his basketball shorts and some ratty t-shirt, and had that fancy dinner with him instead (and paid for everything); because The Dude was never anything more than just some dude, and as much as he’d like to believe that his intuition is to thank for it, for being able to see past the practiced smile soon enough, he knows— he feels otherwise; so Renjun didn’t care that the dude found another to sweet-talk, he didn’t even care that the dude started shit-talking him, but he did care that the other girl was more than just uncomfortable, cared enough to confront the dude right then there, and before he knew it, after what felt like a mere beat later, hot, drunken breath steamed his face and hands gripped along his collar and his eyes sealed shut and he braced for the worst… but the worst did not come.
Suddenly released from the hold, Renjun gasped for air and he opened his eyes to find the dude staggering up from the floor, a hand cradling his jaw; Mark to his right, stunned; the dude’s eyes landed on Mark, as if locked in on a target, and Renjun’s fist escaped him— hard.
Then Mark felt a vice grip yank his hand backwards and in a split second, he frantically wove through curious bystanders and dancers and drunks and lovers, faces blurred into the fluorescent neon lights as he rushed past; the rapid reverberations of his heartbeat deafened him, drowned out the shouts, calls, cheers, and booming bass of some remixed Big Bang single; one blink— the expanse of the night; one blink— the whir of the engine; one blink— they’re speeding down the parkway.
The adrenaline has waned away now, so they sit in the cool and dark, gazes fixed on the road ahead (solely as a measure to keep their hearts in line, one that is often forgotten), the only sound being the soft rumble of the car down the road... that is, until they pull up to Mark’s apartment… and time comes to a standstill… and Mark didn’t realize how loud his heartbeat was until he began to hear it past the car engine; he turns to Renjun, still playing safe with his gaze, and opens his mouth to speak because when he’s nervous he can’t help but have that running too, but when a hand, all roughed-up and red, carefully comes up to his cheek, the distance closes and all the words ready on his lips leave him.
Sweetness, gentle yet certain… but they part far too soon for Mark to understand what was happening, leaving him in a daze; then, for the first time since the car ride, in what feels like the first time in ages, Mark and Renjun see each other, their gazes held in easy slowness, in disarming clarity despite the noise that surrounds them now and surrounded them minutes ago; Mark’s heart is, as usual, leagues ahead of him, but this time it’s trying to catch up to what’s ahead... so his eyes flutter shut, he leans in, and Mark does what he does best: meet Renjun there.