Archive of Our Own

“The coast is clear… Let’s move, broskii!” 

Mark was grabbed by the hand and led through one of the empty back halls of the prestigious Eden’s Garden Academy. Classes had long ended for the day at that point, most staff had already headed home, and all students were relaxing in their dorms in preparation for the next day ahead… Well, all save for two. 

Instead of studying for their upcoming exams or resting up, Mark was being taken to some sort of surprise. What the surprise was, he didn’t know for sure, but the mastermind behind such an event had graciously granted him a few hints: no, the mastermind would not make him go back to Buffalo Wild Wings again to watch Cassidy “get beat” in a wing eating contest, and, no, he wasn’t being dragged to a surprise party. Mark wasn’t a fan of surprise parties… the mastermind knew this fact very well. Buffalo Wild Wings was in the same boat— the fries were just okay, and the atmosphere was subpar despite the mastermind’s continuous arguments in favor of the chain restaurant. 

If Mark were being escorted through the empty hallways of the school by any other person, blindly paraded around by any other student in their class of ultimates, Mark would have outright refused the journey. It was going to be his birthday, after all, and he wanted to spend it without the stress of being the unwilling center of their attention. He wasn’t the biggest fan of his own birthday, anyways, so there wasn’t much of a point in making a big deal about the whole thing. Sometimes it felt like there was nothing worth celebrating each 6th of February. 

Actually, saying “sometimes” would make the statement more of an optimistic lie. Each passing year, that day filled him with a dread that never quite went away, stirring in the very back of his mind at all times. It only grew worse and worse as months would pass and February 6th would rear its ugly head again. 

However, when the mastermind heard this, he insisted otherwise. Even if Mark didn’t want to have a party with his classmates, he’d find another way to celebrate the special day, the mastermind claimed confidently. No matter how hard Mark could even attempt to try, the soon-to-be birthday boy was entirely powerless to stop him. No other student was as irritatingly stubborn as the man leading him around, and that was more evident than ever in that very moment in time. Alas, that was how Mark found himself sneaking through those empty halls in the latest hours of February 5th, holding hands with none other than the energetic Jett Dawson, the aforementioned mastermind behind the mysterious operation. 

Jett told him not to worry. With his “decoys” in place, nobody would even know they were gone. Mark had neither the time nor the energy to request elaboration on the decoys. 

In Jett’s hands, one held Mark’s, and the other held the worn-out straps of an old backpack. It was filled nearly to the brim with God only knew what, heavier than Mark expected the bag to be. That was not the first question Mark thought to ask, though. 

“Jett, where are we going?” Mark asked with a sigh. 

“Shh! I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” replied Jett. “Uhm…” 

Their quick pace slowed ever-so-slightly. 

“You didn’t happen to see the door leading to… uh… Faculty Lot B, did you?” 

Mark shook his head. “No.”

Jett let out a nervous laugh, squeezing Mark’s hand gently. He began to gradually spin around in a circle in search of whatever lot he was looking for. 

“Nyeh… was it even B… ?” Jett murmured to himself. “It couldn’t have been the other one… That’s on the other side of the school…”

“Hmm…” replied Mark, unsure of how to best help the situation… not that he was particularly eager to discover Jett’s plan. “What do we need to be in the parking lot for, anyway?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, my little broskii,” Jett chirped the annoying nickname in rhythm with a little kid show’s theme song of a similar title. “Wouldn’t wanna spoil the surprise!”

Mark could see Jett wink under the visor of his helmet. Whether it be because of that stupid nickname or the gesture itself, Mark wasn’t sure, his face started to heat up, probably looking more like a ripened summer tomato than a human. He glanced away, embarrassed at the fact that Jett had somehow managed that reaction out of him. He wasn’t even able to fully pull his beanie over his face due to Jett’s iron grip on his left hand. Thankfully Jett didn’t seem to notice the redness… or else Mark would have undoubtedly been facing an endless bout of teasing. 

“OH! I remember!” Jett exclaimed.

“Jett!” Mark hushed him. 

“Oops, sorry!” chuckled Jett in a much lower voice. “I remember which exit it was now! Heh, I knew we’d find our way out lickety-split. Follow me!” 

Mark couldn’t help but roll his eyes, led farther and farther down the hall. Eventually, they stopped in front of a set of double doors with small windows allowing a view of the outside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; a nearly-empty parking lot awaited them just beyond the doors, the darkening sky acting as a backdrop to the pavement lit up by dim lighting poles. 

“After you, my man,” Jett purred, letting go of Mark’s hand, leaning over, and holding open one of the doors. 

Mark really wasn’t in the mood for Jett’s theatrics, and neither was he in the mood for the warm sensation of blood rushing to his cheeks again. To make matters worse, Jett had definitely noticed the second time, evidenced by his smug little chuckles that drove Mark insane in the most infuriating way possible. 

Scoffing at Jett, Mark marched past him and into the cold air of the winter night. It was almost unbearable how icy it felt… and they’d only been out there for a few seconds. Mark was quick to zip up his coat as he turned to face Jett behind him.

“Why are we out here?” Mark demanded through chattering teeth. 

Jett appeared to be entirely unbothered by the harsh weather, his chipper attitude never faltering. Again he took Mark’s hand and waltzed him off in some direction.

“This way!” he sang. “We’re almost to part one of the birthday surprise.”

“I don’t know if I should be annoyed with you or afraid of you right now,” Mark replied. “Could you just tell me what the hell’s going on?”

“Wha-?! Neither! You should be excited!” Jett insisted. “C’mon, you’re gonna love this.”

Jett took him to the farthest corner of the parking lot in which the moonlight did more to highlight their surroundings than the now distant parking lights. He stopped in front of a neatly-trimmed bush before dropping the backpack in his grasp at his feet. Next, he stepped behind the big green shrub, using both hands to grab and pull something out from behind it. 

“Close your eyes, broskii!” instructed Jett. 

“…”

“Close them!”

“… Fine.”

Mark wasn’t sure what to expect, so curiosity took complete control over his mind. Jett was making him wait far too long for whatever was behind that bush. What could he possibly have brought Mark that warranted such a reveal? It couldn’t have been something from inside the school— they’d still be in there and out of the cold, then. Even Jett wasn’t strange enough to throw something that could easily be revealed indoors behind some random bush in the lesser-used faculty parking lot. 

“Okay, you can open them now!”

Mark slowly opened his eyes to find Jett’s surprise sitting in front of him. Confusion instantly overtook Mark as he looked over what Jett was so giddy about— it was something covered by a large tarp. Whatever it was, the thing was about as tall as Jett’s waist and a couple feet long. Jett’s hands were clutched onto the sheet, the rest of his body unmoving but eyes wide and energy uncontainable. Mark didn’t have time to properly react before Jett unveiled what lay underneath the tarp.

“Ta-da!” 

In one grand movement, Jett’s arms swung to the side, revealing a red-and-black motorcycle with spotless white accents sitting there. He threw the tarp onto the ground, rested his hands on his hips, and held his head high in a triumphant stance. Mark, meanwhile, could only stare in more confusion.

“What is that?” was all he asked. “Why-”

“Watch, listen, and learn, broskii,” Jett held the vehicle by its handles. “This beauty’s known as an adventure tourer… the best I could get for the occasion! The specific model’s a-”

“Where did you get it… ?” Mark continued slowly. “How’d you get it? We’re not allowed to have cars here. You know that.”

He truly had no clue what was going on in Jett’s head sometimes. This wasn’t a gift for him, was it? The UTP was strict as hell when it came to the students having vehicles on campus, and Jett understood that fact very well. Mark would never forget the time Jett tried to rope him into collaborating on a petition to allow the students their own cars and motorbikes on school property. To make a long story short… The school didn’t find the petition nearly as amusing as Jett or their classmates did, and the best compromise they could give him was a more reliable bus schedule for their weekly free time hours in exchange for Jett leaving their office. It seemed like that new and improved bus schedule wasn’t enough, clear through Jett’s apparent actions. 

“I got him from the car shop in town!” Jett explained as if the situation were the most normal thing in the world. 

“Look, Jett… I, uh, appreciate the thought, I guess, but where… where am I supposed to store this?” Mark slumped his shoulders. “And it’s not like I can drive a motorcycle… or at all…”

Jett stared at him for a moment, tilting his head to the side like a dog observing a foreign object. Then, he was right back to his energetic self. 

“Ooooh, I get what you mean now!” said Jett. “Don’t worry, bro— this isn’t your present! It’s just a means to an end if ya catch my drift!”

“I don’t.”

“Get ready for the ride of your life! You, Mark Berskii, Ultimate Music Producer, world-famous mixing demon Mayhem, are in for the greatest adventure known to mankind… the most amazing birthday experience in the history of birthday experiences…” 

Suddenly, Jett extended his hand to Mark, beaming brighter than the distant lights. 

“And I’m gonna be the one to take you!” he finished. 

Perhaps out of there being no other option, perhaps because of his sheer dumbfounded state, or perhaps due to the trust that he would always so foolishly grant the man before him, Mark reached for his hand less cautiously than he probably should have. After realizing what he’d done, Mark stumbled to get his next words out right, stopping right before he could make contact with Jett. 

“W-where the hell are we going?!” he demanded desperately. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Try as much as you want, I’m not gonna ruin the surprise,” answered Jett. “You’ll just have to wait and see, broskii.”

Jett took out a key from his pocket and stuck it in the ignition, messing with the knobs and buttons near the dashboard. Mark sure as hell didn’t know what any of them meant or did. Either way, the motorcycle was running, and Jett looked more than ready to drag Mark off to wherever it was he wanted to take him.

“I still don’t understand your plan,” Mark sighed. “How are you going to hide this thing from the school?”

“Oh, no need for any of that! I’m borrowing this bad boy!”

“You borrowed it?”

“Yup! From my buddies at the shop! They love me over there… with my dashing good looks and my charming personality, it was easy as pie convincing ‘em to let me take him for a li’l joyride!” 

Mark wasn’t sure what to say, so he only watched as Jett continued to tinker with the motorcycle. 

“Dashing good looks, charming personality, skills for days… and twenty bucks,” Jett added nonchalantly. “Gotta get him back by lunchtime tomorrow, but that’s doable.”

Mark rolled his eyes when Jett made eye contact with him, knowing just what reaction Jett must have been looking for. Following this, Jett hopped onto the motorcycle and then handed Mark a helmet. 

“Safety first,” Jett spoke. “Put this on!”

Mark observed the helmet without doing much else. He hesitated, unsure if he was going to regret agreeing to this “adventure” Jett was proposing. The direction Jett had taken was certainly unexpected, and the UTP would no doubt flip its lid if they knew Mark and Jett had been sneaking out on a motorcycle borrowed off of twenty dollars and Jett’s dashing good looks and charming personality of all things. 

“Could you wear this, too?” Jett handed him the backpack afterwards. “It has all your birthday presents in there, so be super careful! Me n’ Cass worked so hard on that cake.”

Mark took the backpack and put it on, still uncertain more than anything. The pause came not from his confidence in Jett’s ability to work a motorcycle, not from the harsh cold, and not from a lack of appreciation towards his efforts, but from an everlasting dread that continuously lived alongside any celebration or mere acknowledgement of his birthday. Mark didn’t expect Jett to understand. Even more so did he not want to go through the trouble of burdening Jett with that conversation. 

“Hop on, broskii. Lemme take you out celebrating Dawson-style.”

Jett dramatically extended his hand out to Mark for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Mark knew he could just say no— if he really felt like it, he could just turn and walk away from the entire thing. Jett would be powerless to stop him from marching right back up to his dorm room and barricading the door. Despite this, something about that little glow in Jett’s eyes kept Mark standing close. 

“Do you trust me?” Jett asked softly… playfully, even. 

The little glow grew brighter. Mark almost scoffed Jett’s attempts at getting him on the motorcycle— he’d never been faced with anything so horribly cheesy in his entire life— yet he’d never be able to deny the fact that he finally accepted Jett’s hand and climbed onto the back of the vehicle. He’d never be able to fully explain why, either. 

“Not entirely…” was all Mark could reply with. “But… God, you know what? Fuck it— let’s just go.”

“Hell yeah! That’s what I like to hear. You’re gonna love it… trust,” Jett said that word again in a different tone that time. “Hold on tight, okay?”

Mark slid on the large helmet and adjusted himself to the seat, comfortable enough until it came time to place his hands on Jett’s torso. Awkwardly, Mark tried to find the best position without making everything weirder than it already was. However, giving Mark no time to decide what it was he wanted, the ever-impatient Jett took matters into his own hands, reaching back to find Mark’s arms and positioning them right above his plush gut. 

“Let’s rock and roll, broskii!” 

Without any further warning, Jett raised his idle foot off the ground and sped off, making Mark let out an embarrassing yelp. Jett cackled, that asshole, as he drove them out of Faculty Lot B and onto the roads leading away from Eden’s Garden Academy. 

———

Mark regretted everything during his first few minutes on the back of Jett’s questionably-sourced vehicle. Every turn they made would send the pit of his stomach into a frenzy, leading him to squeeze on for dear life in fear of tumbling right off. Jett reassured him again and again that everything was fine… at the speed they were going, Mark really had no choice but to suck it up and believe him.

Gradually, as the roads became less populated by cars and, as Mark grew accustomed to the sensations, he began to relax, resting the chin of his helmet on Jett’s shoulder. The winter air was bearable thanks to the warmth radiating off of Jett’s body, and the soft touch of his larger figure made for a comfortable ride… not that he’d ever willingly hug Jett from behind in public, of course. In all fairness, what else was he supposed to do? Lean back and let gravity and his meager leg strength take care of things? Hugging was always Jett’s idea of love and not always Mark’s, but Mark wouldn’t dare take any chances. He was just doing whatever needed to be done for the weird surprise going on— nothing else.

They couldn’t speak much during the ride due to the loud roaring of the motorcycle’s engine. When a stoplight would slow their progress, therefore minimizing the harshness of the vehicle, Jett would ask him the same questions over and over again:

“How are you holding up, broskii?” 

“Comfortable?”

“Isn’t this awesome? I wish we could do this all the time.”

To every question, Mark would lazily nod against Jett’s shoulder. Oddly enough, in Mark’s mind, the situation was not too different from their usual nightly routine. Sure, they weren’t speeding down roads and highways going God knows where each night, but the same contentment still applied. Their nights at the academy consisted of late-hour conversations guided entirely by their own sleep-deprived selves; if sleeping were the sister to the song of the running motorcycle, Jett’s midnight whispers of “ah, shoot… oops! Fell asleep again” and “you can stay in my dorm for the night” were comparable to his questions in the silence of their stops. The passing lights of cars and street lights were just as soothing as the glow from Mark’s equipment or the neon lights decorating Jett’s walls in the dimness of night. The UTP could emphasize the importance of studying and spending their nights in their own dorms all they wanted, but that wouldn’t stop Mark; similarly, they certainly couldn’t stop Jett’s plans for outside exploration as evidenced by his recent success. Mark could only hope for one final likeness between that night and their usual: not getting caught by the school. 

Mark thought about what would happen if they were ever found out. Something in him told him to be worried, though he had trouble taking it any seriously. Really, what was the worst UTP staff could do? They couldn’t possibly force people to stop hanging out. Wasn’t building friendships and connections what they were all about? It sure as hell seemed encouraged, what with all of the “team building” exercises their class was constantly forced into. So what if he spent a little more time with the racer? It wasn’t like his academic performance was being affected at all, no— performance was what his management team wouldn’t shut up about…

“I’m glad to hear that you’re doing better and well in the academy, but…” said one of his managers during a call with Mark. “We’ve listened through everything you’ve sent us, and we’re concerned about the implications of some of those songs… Are every single one of these new demos really about your boyfriend?”

Judgement seeped through the phone speaker like the first drops of water out of an overflowing tank. Mark replied with some snide remark that made the manager chew him out afterward. He hadn’t bothered to listen.

When he’d sent over his work, Mark hadn’t mentioned anything at all about having a boyfriend. His managers jumping to conclusions wasn’t new, of course… but what should they care if the lyrics read that way? It wasn’t like Mark had taken the risk of switching genres for once. God forbid Mark feel or write about anything other than the cloud of existential despair that had hung over his head for practically his entire life. How dare he stray away from anything that would jeopardize the Mayhem brand’s financial gain! After taking a year-long health break, too… How dare Mark act in such a way? The sheer audacity! 

Okay, fine… maybe they’d guessed right about the boyfriend part, yet his point still stood. Mark gritted his teeth thinking about the topic. It wasn’t just his managers; some of his classmates would make stupid, unwanted comments that made Mark’s blood boil even if Jett insisted they were mostly harmless. He was damn certain his parents would have strong opinions on his choice of lover when they inevitably found out too. 

God, what should they care? That was all Mark could wonder. What should they care whose name he sang when he was finally fortunate enough to feel alive ? If Jett made his heart pump blood, his lungs breathe air, and willed his body to move, what should they care? It was his business, not theirs, never theirs, after all… something that he wished would concern nobody else. They could never understand how he felt, what he’d been through, so why was it that they forced their own beliefs and opinions upon him?

In the same way, it should be none of the UTP’s concern what he decided to do on his good-for-nothing birthday. So what if-

“Almost there, broskii!”

Mark was taken out of his thoughts by Jett’s voice. The motorcycle was quieter, sitting at a red light. Again, Mark nodded into Jett’s shoulder, holding him just a little tighter than before. 

Fuck everyone else anyway.

———

Mark was definitely not expecting their first stop on Jett’s adventure. On some remote road, Jett slowed the motorcycle to a stop on the side, adjusting its position so it was behind some unkempt shrubs. Other than a few faraway streetlights, the rest of the area stood with nothing besides the road itself and surrounding nature. He followed Jett off the vehicle and removed the bulky helmet from his head, waiting for further explanation as Jett hummed some song to himself. 

“Welcome to the first experience of your epic birthday ride,” Jett announced, checking his phone quickly. “Right on time, too! Midnight’s still far, so we got plenty of time to spare.”

Mark glanced down at his own phone, “It’s really not.”

“Well, then we can’t just stand here waiting around! Time’s-a-ticking!”

“I’m following you, Jett… Lead the way.”

Jett took Mark into the grass where Mark instantly realized the road they’d parked on had been on higher ground than the adjacent grass. He nearly slipped had it not been for Jett’s arm with such a sudden and steep angle the dirt took. Once they made their way onto flatter ground— a concrete path— Jett turned, pointing excitedly and insistently at something.

“Here we are!” 

Mark’s gaze followed his pointed finger, revealing a pedestrian underpass some feet away from them. Jett happily trotted over to the tunnel.

“Backpack, please and thank you, my dude!” Jett said. 

Mark slid the bag off his back and handed it to Jett, who immediately unzipped one of the few pouches and began to dig through. The first item he produced was a flashlight which he tossed over to Mark. 

“Ugh… where the hell’d I stash it?!” Jett questioned. 

Mark turned on the flashlight, shining it at the walls of the underpass. Most of it had been clearly painted over in a white color that did very little to hide the years’ worth of graffiti underneath. It almost looked like incoherent scribblings done by dulled coloring crayons, shamefully covered by a sheet of thin white paper. Admittedly, it looked pretty cool for what it was— part of Mark wanted to snap an artsy photo. Jett interrupted him before he could do so, however. 

“Here it is!”

Jett revealed a can of red spray paint, gleaming as he showed it off to Mark. 

“Taking me out to vandalize, huh?” Mark asked and shone the flashlight at the little can. 

“I prefer to call it tagging turf ,” replied Jett. “Back home, my buddies and I would get together for our birthdays and go to this one abandoned building to spray paint everywhere… Every time we’d come back to all our tagging painted over all neat, so it became kind of a tradition to go back a couple times a year and reclaim our territory!”

Jett knelt down and faced the blank wall, shaking the can rapidly. The sound of the plastic ball trapped within the can filled the area.

“That’s kinda dumb,” Mark snarked. “If you do it in the same place, then you’re just asking to get caught.”

“Wha- It is not dumb!” cried the offended Jett. “And you’re part of the Coyote Pack now! As a treasured member of my pack, I’ve gotta get you in on this! Besides… we only almost got caught, like, once…”

“First off, I never agreed to that-”

“You just gotta make sure you don’t paint anything too incriminating, you know?” Jett sprayed the contents of the can onto the off-white wall, making a small red dot. “Lowkey and chill… That’s what it’s all about!”

Jett’s piece gradually began to take formation; the small red dot transformed into a bigger red oval shape with a few more streaks of paint. Then, some more red circles were placed above to complete the image: a paw print. He repeated the same motions twice more, creating a jagged line of them, like a coyote with big paws had crawled up the wall. It looked crudely done, but Mark thought it was kind of cute. You know— in the dumb way. In the Jett way, really. 

“Voilà!” Jett exclaimed. “Behold: the heart and soul of Jett Dawson now on display here. Your turn.”

Clearly proud of his work, Jett handed the spray paint over to Mark in exchange for the flashlight. He did the same as Mark had, pointing the light at the pawprints. 

“So… what do I paint?” questioned Mark.

“Anything you want! It’s gonna be your birthday, dude! The world is your canvas!” 

“Hmm…”

Mark thought for a moment, unsure as to what he should add to Jett’s work. He had that whole coyote thing going on, didn’t he? He was already sworn into the “Coyote Pack” although Mark still wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed. He supposed he could try doing something related to that, even if he personally liked alligators a bit better. Then again… why was he entertaining this?

When he looked at Jett again, he found the man staring back at him expectantly, and the explanation was clear. There was only one person who could stand him out in the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold without completely pissing him off. 

All of a sudden, an idea popped into Mark’s head. 

“I think I got something,” Mark told Jett. “Not a drawing. It’ll be words.”

“Whatcha got, broskii?”

Mark shook the can, listening to the interior ball hit the sides with each swing, “I think I’m gonna write…”

Part of Mark wanted to look away when he said what he said, yet another part didn’t. Perhaps it was payback for every bout of teasing Jett had put him through in their few months of knowing each other. Maybe it was merely to fluster him— Mark would never, ever say admit this out loud, but a flustered Jett was a cute Jett, just like those pawprints. 

“How about… Jett Dawson loves sucking dick ?”

At first, Jett merely stared at him, doing that thing where he tilted his head to the side to communicate his confusion. Then, everything seemed to set in perfectly. 

“HEY! That’s slanderous!” Even in the near dark, Mark could see Jett’s eyes widen under the helmet. “I-I do not … !”

“Oh? You don't?” Mark prodded, unable to keep a straight face. “You’re a little too late. I’ve made my decision.”

He raised the can up to the wall, his finger on the nob and a teasing smirk on his face. As expected, two hands grabbed for the canister from behind him. Mark turned around, his back towards the wall and front facing a much closer Jett, to hide the bottle of spray paint. The flashlight Jett had been holding had already fallen to the ground, its bright glow illuminating the beginning of Jett and Mark’s battle like stage lights. First, Jett tried worming the can away through gentle grabs that left Mark disappointed. If Mark was going to put up such a fight, Jett was surely going to have to try better than that. Neither Jett nor Mark were strangers to a little bit of friendly roughhousing, after all; why should this tussle be any different? 

Whispers and giggling acted as the soundtrack. With the lighting set and players ready, the fight commenced. 

“What happened to the world being my canvas, huh?” Mark teased, holding the can over his head. 

“I can’t believe you’re slandering my name like that! If the paparazzi finds that, it’s over, broskii!” Jett was doing very poorly in both holding back laughter and grabbing the spray paint. “The word would spread overnight! Everyone would think-”

“Oh, come on!” Mark barely dodged Jett’s reach that time. “Don’t be so dramatic. Besides, it’s so obvious just from looking at you.”

“Okay, rude ,” Jett pulled in closer. “Don’t make me use my secret move on you, man. It’s not gonna be pretty!”

Mark huffed at him, dodging another swipe for the canister. Before he knew it, Mark was abruptly lifted up off the ground, spun around a few times, and hoisted up on Jett’s shoulder. Again, Mark was not a stranger to this, but that didn’t stop his thrashing and protests. 

“No!” Mark gasped as the can tumbled onto the ground below. 

“Rehehehe,” Jett laughed. “Gotcha.”

Jett took the opportunity to play the drums on Mark’s backside, to which Mark didn’t even bother fighting after his humiliating loss. 

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “Could you put me back on the ground?”

“Just a few more minutes,” requested Jett. “I like this, and you can’t be trusted.”

“Are you sure about that? We’ve got, like, thirty minutes until midnight…” Mark pointed out. 

“Shit, really?!” Jett gasped. 

Mark opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a distant shout that made his blood run cold. 

“Hey, the hell’s goin’ on over there?!”

Mark shuffled out of Jett’s grasp, his feet hitting the concrete with a light thud. Now that their attention had returned to their surroundings, both Jett and Mark exchanged concerned looks. Whereas Mark was sure he was starting to sweat bullets, maybe sink under his beanie too, Jett’s entire body was tensed up based on the one quick glance Mark had given him. The bob of a flashlight was visible in their peripheral vision, and the sound of rapid footsteps was audible. Mark didn’t want to see who’d called out to them… for he already had a feeling who he might find.

“It’s okay, broskii, I’ll handle this,” Jett whispered. “I’ve dealt with cops before… no biggie…”

Mark reached for the spray paint can on the ground as if evidence of what they’d done hadn’t been sitting on the wall right beside them. Still… it could have been worth a shot… if the cop hadn’t seen him go for it. 

“Nooo-up!” shouted the officer. “Don’t move! Put that down and answer the question!”

Jett stepped in front of Mark, leaning casually on the underpass wall. The cop was still far enough away that Jett had to speak louder than usual (if that were even possible).

“What seems to be the problem here, officer?” 

“What are you doing out here?!” 

“We’re… uh… we’re taking a walk, and we were… uh… just looking for a bathroom!”

Was that seriously the best thing he could have come up with?

“God, you are awful at this,” Mark muttered. 

“I’m trying my best, man!”

From all the way over at the other end of the tunnel, the cop marched towards them with no intent of stopping, a walkie-talkie in one hand and the flashlight in the other. He wasn’t running, nor was he walking, really. It was more of a speedy waddle if anything. Despite the cop’s not-entirely-intimidating composure, Mark’s heart raced unsteadily— they weren’t seriously going to just stand there, were they? Standing there would mean the jig was up, the academy would be notified of their wrongdoings, and they’d likely be spending the rest of the night in the back of a cop car, arrested by the least threatening cop he’d ever seen… not ideal.

Following the rush of adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Mark reached for Jett’s hand to get his attention. 

“Jett, what the fuck are we gonna do?!” Mark demanded quietly. 

“Okay, okay, uh…” Jett sighed. “Shit, uh… We’re gonna…”

Mark didn’t wait for Jett to finish his sentence. Instead, he took off, dragging Jett close behind. Jett let out a yelp without any further protest, entirely giving in to Mark’s idea. They scooped up their backpack and flashlight while ignoring the screeches of the cop left in the tunnel. Once outside, Mark let Jett take the lead, and they began bolting up the small incline to reunite with the motorcycle in its hiding spot. 

“Oh, thank fuck! There he is!” Jett pointed at the vehicle hidden behind a bush. 

“Hurry, Jett… !” Mark said desperately. “The guy’s right there!”

Mark looked out over their previous escape route, finding that their opponent wasn’t too far behind. As swiftly as he possibly could, Mark slid on the bulky helmet and climbed onto the back seat. Jett sat in front, giving an audible groan when violently digging through the bag. 

“Where’d I put it… ?!” he hissed. “Where’d the goddamn key go?!”

“STOP IT! Get off the vehicle NOW!”

Mark turned to look at the police officer again. Waddle gone, he was gaining on them. At that rate, if Jett didn’t take off soon, they’d be coming face-to-face with the man chasing them.

They were running out of time. Mark knew he had to think fast. In a split-second decision, Mark raised his arm without quite aiming, threw it back, and chucked it forward, releasing the can of spray paint into the air. The paint soared through the night like that of a magnificent bird’s flight. During the following seconds, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion; the canister of paint was still airborne, the officer was still charging at them, and Jett was still panicking. All Mark could do was hold his breath and silently pray for the best. 

“Found it!” Jett exclaimed.

Just as Jett pulled out the key, the spray paint bottle ended its journey… 

CRASH… Right on the face of the cop! 

Mark heard the cop shout profanities following the impact. Even Jett turned around to see what had happened.

“DUDE!” Jett cried. “You just hit him in the face!”

“What?! I panicked!”

Unfortunately, the moment of peace soon ended as the cop recovered from the blow. A bruise visible even from where Jett and Mark stood, the officer approached with a new, world-ending rage written all over him.

“Shit! Go! Go!” Mark shouted, swatting at Jett’s upper body in pure desperation. “Go!”

“Hold on!”

Mark did as he was told, hugging onto Jett’s torso like his life depended on it. The motorcycle’s engine roared to life, providing a quick escape to the situation at hand. 

“Woohoo… !” Mark could hear Jett howl out into the wind. “That was insane, broskii!”

Speeding through the night, Mark felt the most relieved he’d ever experienced in his entire life. He could barely hear the questions Jett was shouting to him over the sound of the engine, yet still he nodded out of nothing but pure joy at the fact that they’d escaped.

———

“Do you hear anything?”

On some old backroad, Jett and Mark had pulled off to the side, the only source of light being that of the motorcycle itself. They both stared back at the empty road they’d come from with adrenaline still pumping through their veins. Mark could feel his heart about to leap out of his chest, and he could almost hear Jett’s pounding heartbeat over the low growl of the motorcycle engine.

“I think we’re safe…” Mark breathed. “Goddamn…”

“Jesus Christ, broskii!” Jett laughed, playfully shoving Mark’s shoulder. “What was that all about?! What an arm! You sure you’re not the Ultimate Baseball Star or something?”

The shove turned into a full-on hug; Jett had fully turned himself around on the motorcycle, his arms tightly wrapped around Mark’s upper body. Their helmets clinked together, somewhat disorienting the already-frazzled Mark. Further flusters were not what Mark needed, yet he didn’t fight the man sending his mind and heart into a weird mash of panic and daze. 

“I… I don’t know!” Mark fought, defensive. “You couldn’t find the stupid key and he was coming up so fast, so I… I just panicked, okay?! How is it my fault you couldn’t get to the key before he…”

Mark paused, took a deep breath, and softened his tone. He didn’t mean to raise his voice at Jett. The way Jett went quiet further diminished his edge.

“Sorry…” Mark offered, wishing he could better see Jett’s eyes through the visor to get a better guess at his expression. 

Jett began to laugh again. Small giggles turned louder, an awkward pause melting away into familiar sensations. When Jett lightly headbutted Mark’s helmet, the soft sound of the tap was enough to shake away the most of Mark’s worries. He, too, fell into laughter, all anxiety turning into pure disbelief and awe at what had just happened. 

“It’s okay, broskii,” said Jett. “You’re my hero! You saved us!”

“Yeah, whatever… Something like that. Would you please let go?” Mark groaned, disbelief turned back to being flustered by the drag racer. 

“Alrighty, alrighty…” Jett finally relented. “Don’t worry, broskii! It won’t be too long until the final destination of our trip…”

“I hope the cops don’t follow us there,” Mark said, glancing around cautiously. 

“They won’t! They one-thousand percent won’t!” Jett insisted. “If they haven’t found us by now, they won’t find us over there.”

“Will you at least tell me where we’re going now that we’ve had the first life-threatening experience of the night?”

“Nope! You’ll just have to wait and see! Trust me— the cops won’t find us! And plus… we have the Ultimate Lawyer on our side! What’s the worst the law can do about a little bit of spray paint, huh?!”

Mark rolled his eyes as Jett got back into driving position. Leaning his head on Jett’s shoulder, he thought about what Wolfgang may say to them when he found out they’d gotten caught sneaking out, spray painting an underpass, and (maybe… supposedly… allegedly ) assaulting an officer. The true details on that last part were still fuzzy… Hopefully Wolfgang would understand. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to tell Wolfgang at all. 

———

The rest of the ride to the final birthday destination was a short but concerning one. Jett had driven them through some backroads with woods on either side of the area, the only breaks in the everlasting sea of trees being dirt driveways to distant houses they couldn’t see in the dark. Jett eventually turned at a wide opening branch, slowly rolling the motorcycle up to a metal gate with a large red sign on the front. 

“NO TRESPASSING,” read the big sign. “VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED.”

“Okay, Jett… Where are we?” Mark sighed. “What is this?”

“Oh, this? Don’t worry about it, bro,” Jett climbed off the motorcycle, took the key out of the ignition, and happily made his way towards the clear warning. “We’ve got nothing to worry about! Desmond told me about this place— the guy who owns the land lets the UTP’s sporty training stuff happen out here on his property, and there’s a really good spot up ahead. The guy’s not even living out here in the winter, so it’s not like he’ll ever know!”

Mark pulled off his helmet and stood next to the motorcycle. He must have looked hesitant, for Jett grabbed his hand gently and led him over to the gate. 

“We’ll be a-okay! Pinky promise! I’ll make sure of it.” 

Jett slipped his pinky around Mark’s, giving it a tight squeeze. The feeling tugged at Mark’s heart. He was quick to make Jett think otherwise, though.

“Nothing screams a-okay like murder woods,” Mark grimaced. 

“Don’t you worry, broskii! I’ll protect you from any monsters out there!” Jett started dramatically karate-swiping the air, finishing off his moves with a few horribly-performed punches someone could only ever find on old television shows or crappy action movies from years long past. “Hi-YAH! I’d like to see any of them try!”

Mark was made entirely speechless by Jett’s display of… strength , he supposed, if that was even the right word to use. Maybe unbridled delusion would be better suited. He couldn’t think of any night-prowling creature who would be scared off by Jett’s threats. Against all odds, however, Mark felt safer than he’d ever felt his entire life. That in itself was certainly an accomplishment. Did Jett need to hear about this accomplishment? No, Mark thought not; the embarrassment could surely wait for another time… and Jett would certainly never let him forget it after hearing that. 

“Or, if there are any coming at us from a distance,” Jett chatted on. “You can just throw something at them… like a can of spray paint!”

“I’ll throw something at you if you don’t shut up.”

“Yeowch! Okay, okay!”

After hiding the motorcycle, Jett led Mark through the open gate and down the short path to the surprise. Climbing up a small hill brought them to a wide clearing— a line of trees separated the surrounding forest on all sides save for one, which was completely open, offering a view filled with lights and sounds. Curious, Mark walked closer to find that the clearing was rather high up— much higher than he’d anticipated— and granted them an overlook of the city. When Mark looked up, he was pleasantly surprised to find sprinkles of stars above, shining just as bright as the faraway lights. 

Jett and Mark walked to the far edge in which a railing had been put into place. Jett took in a deep breath as he leaned onto it.

“Surprise!” he gleamed. “This is rad, isn’t it?”

Mark didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. It really was beautiful. 

“AH! Crap! I’ve only got five minutes to set up!” Jett exclaimed, throwing the backpack onto the ground. 

Mark checked his phone. Lo and behold, the time was 11:55 P.M. on February 5th. 

“You need any help?” Mark asked. 

“No, you just wait there, broskii!” replied Jett. “I’ll be done so fast this backpack won’t even know what hit ‘em!”

“Alright…” Mark chuckled slightly. “Whatever that means.”

Mark watched as Jett unpacked the first item needed for the setup: a plaid picnic blanket. It was then that he realized just how much stuff Jett had managed to fit into that bag. First came the blanket, then came a piece of tupperware, next was a card, and the final step was to shove the rest of the backpack to the side. Jett unrolled the blanket and set it out on the dirt below them, using his hands to smooth out the uneven wrinkles. He triumphantly plopped himself down on the plaid-patterned sheet, only further messing it up. Mark took a seat next to him, careful not to touch any bugs that might have already crawled on. 

“Almost there, broskii!” Jett stared at his phone excitedly. “Three minutes!”

Jett then reached for the tupperware. It was rather small, the container able to fit neatly both in the bag and in Jett’s hands. He removed the lid to reveal a tiny cake covered in sprinkles and icing. It looked as if the base layer was coated in a chocolate frosting, somewhat sloppily-applied but still appetizing at the very least. Atop it was “BROSKII” frosted in white, colorful sprinkles surrounding it on the cake’s edges. A large pink heart sat in the middle of the giant O. Mark had to hold back his smile.

“It took Cass and me almost all day to make this…” Jett admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it came out great, though.”

“Guess we won’t know for sure ‘til we taste it,” replied Mark. 

“Oh, no…”

“What? What is it?”

Jett looked around, pawing at the blanket underneath them. “Do you see any paper plates anywhere?”

“No…” Mark shook his head. 

“Damn,” Jett said. “Guess I forgot them. Alright… Well, it’s fine! We’ll just use what we got!”

Jett pulled out a candle and stuck it into the cake, right in its center. He reached back into the backpack and brought out one more necessary item for the creation— a lighter. 

“Shit! One more minute!” he exclaimed. “Get ready, broskii! It’s almost time!”

It was almost time. 

Mark bit the inside of his mouth thinking about it. Would this year be any different? His classmates, new school, music, misadventures, Jett … Would any of it do anything to shoo away the dread that built itself back up again every year? Neither Singing, cake, nor the presents ever did anything to fill up the empty sockets he felt deep within. He’d been granted the fortune of forgetting about the feeling for the past few hours, but, just like every other day of his existence, it always came back in the quiet moments. The quiet moments like when waiting for the clock to strike midnight, or watching Jett glance between the candle on the cake and the time display on his phone. 

Jett turned around to hide the cake from Mark’s view. Just as Mark was about to question him, he heard the sound of the lighter click, and Jett quickly turned around with his coyote helmet illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight.

“Happy birthday to you…” Jett sang. “Happy birthday to you!”

Mark felt his face flush as Jett inched closer.

“Happy birthday, dear broskii… !” Jett held out the line for far too long. “Happy birthday to you!”

Jett held the cake out in front of Mark expectantly. Mark took in some air in preparation to blow out the candle.

“WAIT!” Jett cried. 

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes and make a wish!” Jett whispered. 

“Okay, okay…” Mark sighed. 

“But don’t tell me what it is or else it won’t come true!” 

If Mark’s eyes were open, he would have rolled them. He supposed he would humor Jett and play along. Taking a few moments to think of his wish, Mark hummed, took in a deep breath, made his selection, and blew out the candle. 

“Yay!” Jett cheered. “Happy birthday, Mark!”

Jett placed the cake to the side before wrapping his arms around Mark. Mark really had no choice but to fall into the hug.

“I love you!” 

No matter how many times that phrase was uttered, Mark still thought it was too good to be true. More times than not, he would leave his own reaction blank so as to not risk facing the possibility he feared worst… no matter how silly it may seem. The sentiment was forever there: Jett was far too good to be true.

“Mmhmm,” Mark murmured into his shoulder.

Jett pulled away (too fast) and plucked the partially-melted candle out of the cake. Something important must have been coming; Mark had expected the hug to last at least a little bit longer. 

“Present time!” he sang. “First in line: your card, of course!”

Jett handed him a white envelope with his name written on the front. The material within felt exceptionally sturdy, a hard piece of something tangible in the center of the card. Mark tore the envelope open, discovering a dark green card sealed inside. On the front read “gator your friends…” in a neon yellow color and stylized font. When Mark opened the card up, he was instantly greeted by blaring music and a rapidly-shaking alligator in the very center, the sound coming from a miniscule sound box hidden between the layers of cardstock. The singing (if you could even call it that) was high-pitched, sounding more like a chipmunk than an alligator in a party hat and admittedly cool shades.

“It’s time to PARTY!” was what lay written as the punchline. Mark hated to admit it, but the phrase was pretty funny.

Both on the opposite half of the open card and surrounding the dancing alligator were signatures from several parties. Mark started counting up every written name there, surprised at just how many were contained in the two pages. Was this everyone in his class? 

Beginning at the top left, Mark found a short paragraph written in pink glitter pen with hearts and flowers drawn next to the name.

“Happiest of birthdays to you, Mark! Thank you for being such an amazing classmate! You are so talented and I always look forward to seeing what music you create next! Wishing you lots of presents and lots of fun on your special day! Your friend, Diana”

That was nice. Diana was always too nice. Underneath Diana’s was a much shorter message, but pleasant nonetheless. 

“Happy birthday to you! – Eloise”

More filled the left side of the card:

“May your day be full of joy! All the best to you, Jean”

“Hope you have a great day! – Desmond”

“Happy happy happy birthday to you! From: Kai”

“Damon”

“Jett’s telling me to write something deep and personal. I don’t know what else to say, but I hope you have a good birthday. Eva”

“A most blessed birthday to you, Mark! Keep on shining! Love, Ingrid”

“Happy birthday! – Grace”

Mark was surprised by how normal Grace’s message to him was. He expected her to insult him above anything. Next, he read over the right side of the card. 

On the very top was a message in borderline illegible cursive handwriting. Mark could just barely make out the gist of the paragraph; it was from Wolfgang, who was clearly very proud of Mark and all of his accomplishments as a fellow Ultimate. Mark squinted, trying to decipher the writing against all odds. After a few seconds, Mark ultimately gave up. Sometimes things were better left up to imagination. 

“I see in your heart a yearning for true love and a compassion unlike any other. Let your desire guide you towards eternal might! — Toshiko Kayura”

“Best wishes! — Ulysses”

A fancy-looking signature sat underneath. Mark guessed it to be Wenona’s. 

“Stay cool my brotha. Hope you like da cake. We worked super hard on it! Your bestie, Cassidy”

At the very bottom of the card, right underneath the alligator who had now run out of song and dance, and taking up nearly the entire bottom half was one more signature. Mark bit the side of his mouth to hold back a smile as he read through the final message. 

“To my number one fan and my number one broskii: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Nobody else is as awesome as you are! I have said it and will say it one million billion more times: love you! Yours truly, Mayhem’s number one fan, Ultimate Epic Drag Racer, Jett Dawson” 

Jett’s message was larger than any other on the page, so much so that it may have appeared a little bit obnoxious to anyone trying to get in a longer note to the birthday boy. However, Mark found that he didn’t care. He didn’t care that all of his classmates had most likely bore witness to Jett’s declaration of love. He didn’t care that Jett took up most of the space for himself. He didn’t care much about his hatred of his own birthday anymore; he would have much rather focused on the man before him. 

“It was so hard finding everyone in time,” Jett laughed. “I lost the pen twice… and the card once… But I eventually got them all! They all really wanted you to have the best birthday ever! Message from them to you… their words, too!”

The smile finally broke through, though now Mark was trying desperately to hold back the slightest beginnings of tears. Nobody had ever made him feel this way before— so attended to, so cared for, so cherished. Mark would have usually paid no mind to meaningless birthday affirmations written by people in joke cards… yet this time, it all felt different. Seeing the person behind it all sitting right in front of him, it was like he’d been granted a wish and given indisputable proof that it came true. Still, he didn’t want Jett to see him cry (that may have been a little too embarrassing), so Mark wiped away any wet formation in his eyes and instead blushed. That was much harder to cover up, after all. Thankfully, Jett was too distracted by the next activity to notice Mark’s reaction. 

“Time for presents: part two!” Jett cheered, his arms deep within the backpack. “I got you some great stuff, trust! First up is…”

He rummaged through the bag a bit more, pulling out a parcel bag that looked like it was going to burst at its paper and bubble wrap seams.

“This! I was actually gonna give you this, like, a while ago… but the mailroom at school has been hell to get through,” Jett explained. 

“I believe it,” Mark replied, taking the large parcel. “Where’d you get it shipped in from?”

“My dad had to send it to me!”

Curious, Mark tore open the package and reached his hand within. He immediately felt something rough in texture— was it leather?— and pulled it out. What was inside had been a black-and-red leather jacket with intricate patterns, various patches, and DAWSON largely printed on the backside. Mark smirked at Jett after fully observing the jacket.

“Was this yours?” Mark asked. “You’re giving it to me?”

Mark removed the coat he was wearing, took Jett’s jacket, and slid his arms through the sleeves, adjusting it upon his body.

“Well, yeah…” stammered Jett, surprisingly reading as embarrassed. “I just thought… since, you know, you liked wearing that one hoodie of mine so much that you might like wearing something that actually fits… As you can probably guess, it doesn’t fit me anymore, heh…”

Jett was right— it was slightly loose, but comfortable. Mark didn’t have many leather jackets… hell, he may not have ever owned one at all, but wearing Jett’s felt pretty badass. What made things all the better was how much the sight appeared to fluster the too-cool-to-ever-feel-shame drag racer. 

“Do you like it?” Jett asked. 

Before Mark gave his response, he asked a question of his own: “Do you have a marker in that bag?”

“Uhh… maybe? Lemme check.”

Following a bit of searching, Jett was able to dig up a silver marker. He offered it to Mark.

“What for?”

Mark turned around so his back faced Jett. 

“Sign it.”

“Oh… okay! Cool idea! Whatever you want, broskii!”

Mark heard the cap being removed from the marker with a quiet click. He felt the light pressure of the marker against his back, Jett’s movements characteristically quick and free. 

“Done! One autograph complete!”

Mark turned back around, removed the leather racing jacket, and stared at Jett’s signature. Big and proud, JETT DAWSON sat right in the center. 

“It looks good on you, broskii,” Jett said, lightly shaking Mark’s shoulder. “Real good.”

“Yeah, thanks for the autograph,” replied Mark. 

“Rehehehehe! You just made the value skyrocket!” Jett gleamed. “My signature’s worth thousands… maybe even more than that…”

“Great! Perfect for when I sell it on eBay,” teased Mark.

“No!” Jett gasped. “Broskii, you wouldn’t… !”

For a second, Jett looked genuinely heartbroken. The sight was enough to send Mark into damage control.

“I’m kidding, doofus,” he shoved Jett playfully. “It’s comfy. I’ll keep it.”

Jett laughed, returning his own gentle shove. He went for the backpack again.

“Okay, now time for birthday gift: part three!” Jett announced. “Here you go, broskii! From me to you!”

Jett handed Mark the final gift, which had been wrapped up in a plastic bag. Inside were two alligator plushies dressed in casual wear, their sides connected through little magnets from within the stuffing. Mark smiled at the little creatures, their cartoony faces and expressions filling him with a whimsical joy he hadn’t quite experienced in years. 

“They’re kinda like us,” Jett took the plushies and sat them on the picnic blanket, making their long alligator noses touch. “Don’t ya think?”

“Sure,” Mark chuckled. “I guess you could say that.”

“Do you like them?” Jett asked cheerfully. “I can see that smile!”

Mark felt his face flush again, the heat rising to his cheeks and staying there for a humiliatingly-obvious amount of time. Words completely escaped him; what he should say to Jett to express his gratitude was something that should have been easy. Perhaps it would have been easy for anyone else, Mark thought, but Mark was Mark, and Mark didn’t know how to keep his head on straight when it came to that sort of thing. Expressing feelings was always difficult… especially when they concerned the feelings he had towards Jett. 

Jett backed off from asking again, instead changing the topic to the cake that sat beside them.

“Alrighty, I’m starving,” he spoke. “Cake time?”

“Sure… yeah. That sounds good.”

“Let’s dig in,” said Jett, reaching for more items from the backpack. “Nyeh… I guess there’s no point in cutting it into all these pieces if we don’t have any plates, right? I’ll just…”

Jett cut the small cake in half down the middle. Handing Mark one of the plastic forks, Jett prepared to take a bite. 

“Bone appetite!” he exclaimed. “Or however you say it!”

Mark stuck his fork into his half of the cake, scooping out a small chunk of the heavily-frosted dessert. It was sweet as all hell, both the cake itself and the icing that coated it, but it was tasty. He had to give credit where credit was due: considering everything that could have possibly gone wrong with that cake-baking duo, Jett and Cassidy did a good job. 

He was about to mention this to the man beside him when an abrupt sound interrupted him.

“A… Achoo!” The sneeze was clear as day, muffled by nothing. “God… every single time! I think it’s all the dust…”

Mark turned his head to find Jett sitting there. His gaze was first drawn to Jett’s helmet which lay on the picnic blanket. Next, Mark looked at the forkful of cake escaping the tupperware by hand of Jett. Finally, he saw Jett’s face, dark eyes and those bushy eyebrows so graciously greeting him with a bashful expression. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time Mark had seen Jett’s unmasked face, no; spending so much time together in their dorms, being so close both physically and emotionally, it was natural that Jett had revealed to Mark his face in several instances, whether that be during their more intimate experiences or merely to get some fresh air when Mark was nearby. Mark held close to his heart the fact that Jett trusted him enough for such exposure. Mark himself had never had anyone he was able to share his own scars with until he met Jett in the halls of the academy. Having someone to trust him— someone to listen and love him despite everything— was still something Mark couldn’t quite believe was real. Maybe, Mark feared, one day he would wake up back in that hospital bed, the white walls acting as the first indicator of his eternal reality. Perhaps he would discover that everything he’d found to live for was a dream… a cruel prank of fate on the weak-minded and pitiful Mark Berskii. Shackled to his past life and his past choices… What could he ever hope to achieve other than everything he’d already known? 

If his current life was a dream, Mark would do all in his power to stay asleep. He would do absolutely anything to stay with Jett, the one person who made the prison called life at least somewhat bearable.

“How is it?” Jett smiled at him, and Mark realized he must have been staring a little too hard. “Best cake you’ve ever had, right?”

Mark would be lying if he said he didn’t find the famous Jett Dawson to be attractive. He shone brighter than the sun’s rays of light and stronger than the moon’s glow on the world below. 

Something powerful overtook Mark. He placed his fork into the cake below, leaving it planted there for the time being. He hugged Jett’s shoulders for balance before placing a kiss on Jett’s scarred cheek, soft and gentle as he could be against the area. Mark found the responses to Jett’s questions— the questions about his birthday experience thus far, the presents, the cake, everything.

“Amazing,” he finally answered. “Thank you… thank you for everything. You’re the best, Jett.”

Two arms wrapped around Mark’s body, pulling him closer and closer to Jett’s until their noses were almost touching. He grasped at Jett’s shoulders so as not to lose his balance. The two of them were far from graceful when their lips eventually met, Mark kissing him like there would be no tomorrow otherwise. All of the uncomfortable winter air was melted away by Jett’s warmth, and the surrounding nature seemed to kindly quiet itself so Mark could place full focus on Jett and Jett alone. Mark’s hands traveled from Jett’s shoulders to his upper and lower back while Jett gripped at his waist with one hand and nestled the other on the back of Mark’s head, holding him in place. Neither of them minded the uncomfortable position, Mark didn’t mind the way Jett’s dry lips itched against his own, and he was almost certain Jett didn’t mind the way Mark silently demanded more. 

It had been far too long since their last kiss. Mark knew he needed to savor the moment lest the light ever stop shining upon him. Alas it was Jett who broke their contact first, much to Mark’s silent disappointment.

“I love you, broskii,” Jett whispered. “More than anything in the whole wide world.”

“I love you, too,” murmured Mark. 

A big, dopey grin came upon Jett’s face. It made Mark’s heart melt on sight.

“You taste like cake,” Jett told him softly. 

“Oh? No shit, Sherlock…” Mark sarcastically responded. “I wonder why that could be.”

He leaned in for another kiss, reeling back in both surprise and utter sorrow when Jett placed a single finger to Mark’s lips which effectively stopped him in his tracks.

“Before we get back to that,” Jett started. “There’s actually one more thing I have to give you!”

“Hmm?”

“Pass me the backpack!”

Mark did so, his curiosity piqued. 

“Lemme tell ya… it’s a good thing we got away from that cop when we did, ‘cause…”

Jett reached into the backpack and retrieved a Ziploc bag. He tossed it over to Mark, and Mark picked it up quizzically. Within the clear plastic sat a pile of buds, some paper, and a filter.

“For your ‘bud!’ Haha. Happy birthday!” was written on the front. Mark couldn’t quite believe his eyes at first; if the UTP was considered strict about curfews and vehicle rules, their rules on smoking— especially weed— made them look more like a ruthless empire void of any mercy than an academy. Something told Mark that the UTP would have a much easier time sending him to death over weed as opposed to dating his classmate or even sneaking out. Mark kept rereading the note, so shocked that he forgot to ask for an explanation.

“There’s a guy at the shop who’s really into weed and all that,” Jett explained, plopping himself next to where the still-baffled Mark sat. “We were talking and I told him about you’re all, like, super stoner too, and he was all like, ‘well, we should all get together and smoke, then,’ and I was like, ‘we totally would, but we’d have to work around getting there without the school finding out’ and all that… He says happy birthday, and this is his gift to you! Wasn’t that awesome of him?” 

Mark snapped out of his bewilderment and ripped open the plastic bag, never having been so glad to see the little green plants in his entire life. The months he’d gone without smoking were like torture— a horrible, nervewrecking, but ultimately bearable torture. Just like that, there was another reason to worship Jett’s every influence in his being. 

“You wanna have some, broskii?” Jett’s voice pulled Mark’s attention away. “Cause I kinda do…”

Jett and Mark exchanged looks.

“I don’t think you even have to ask.”

———

“Y’know, you remind me of mac and cheese.”

“… How so?” Mark exhaled, a cloud of smoke pooling into the cool air above his head. 

“I love mac and cheese.”

Mark scoffed, grinning at whatever the hell Jett had just attempted on him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the line worked, evidenced by the blush of pink coating his cheeks. He handed the joint over to Jett, who mirrored Mark’s grin with some slow blinks. It felt like they were flirting… the type of flirting where you’re already dating the person, but the whole thing feels like… 

Mark didn’t know. He didn’t know what he was thinking. Everything felt good, though. The world moved in slow motion, and every breath he took sizzled in his throat and lungs. God, it had been far too long since he last smoked. He couldn’t even worry about that either. Passing over the joint to Jett, he watched as the man took another hit, releasing another bunch of smoke. The conversation was pleasantly light, the kind of comfortable quiet that hung in the air before sleeping, or a lull in topics to talk about. Mark enjoyed it, sober or not. 

Just minutes earlier, the ever eager-to-impress Jett attempted to roll their joint. The entire debacle had been both sad and funny— the way Jett wouldn’t quite give up at first, the minute-by-minute struggle, how Mark had to practically pry the operation out of his hands before it was too late. Jett pouted, but Mark thought he should be happy it ended up that way, since the situation was endearing (maybe even cute) to watch. Mark, of course, made sure not to tell him this, for it would be much too embarrassing to admit… even when high. Jett could probably just guess Mark liked the show anyways based on the looks they were giving each other alone. 

Jett passed him the joint, still giggling from his mac and cheese line. Mark took it, though he couldn’t stray his focus away from the shape of Jett’s lips. The way his teeth peeked out from under the top lip, and the way his scarring danced up right against the bottom and side… he was almost entranced. 

Mark got a cool idea. He beckoned Jett forward.

“Jett, c’mere.”

Jett did as told, leaning in while staring at him with sleepy eyes. Mark took in some smoke, leaning in to meet Jett’s mouth. His plan was oh-so cruelly thwarted when he instead felt Jett kiss the space between his eyebrow and eyelid— he’d probably been going for Mark’s forehead. Mark had no choice but to exhale and open his eyes once more, giving Jett the best form of an annoyed glare he could manage in his current state. Jett only chuckled slowly with that infuriating, smug grin plastered on his face.

“Hold still.”

Mark tried again, only to find that Jett was more than happy to continue teasing him. The next kiss was on the opposite cheek.

“Hold still!” Mark was more persistent that time. 

He took his free hand and roughly cupped Jett’s chin. Ready to take aim, Mark held him there, putting considerable pressure on the man’s squished lower face. 

“Ow!” Jett whimpered. 

It took Mark a moment to realize what he’d done to cause the whine. After just a few seconds, the conclusion was clear: the way his fingers dug into the scarring on Jett’s face. Mark drew back immediately as his heart sank into the pits of his stomach out of guilt.

“Oh, God, Jett! I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly, Jett didn’t look at all hurt anymore. Rather he began to smirk again, shaking at the laughter he was stifling poorly. Mark couldn’t believe his eyes.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Mark grumbled at the cheeky liar. 

“Mmhmm. I’m sure you know that better than anyone.”

That just about did it. Mark was tired of Jett’s shenanigans. He needed to take matters into his own hands, just as he’d done with rolling the joint. 

Mark took a hit, perhaps the most determined breath of smoke he’d ever inhaled, and kissed Jett hard. No longer teasing Mark, Jett opened his mouth, allowing the puff of smoke within. When the transfer was over, they separated very gradually, as if there were a magnet right about to pull them back together. The sight of Jett sitting there with Mark’s smoke trickling out of his pursed lips was enough to send Mark’s heart into overdrive. He needed another hit. 

“Wow…” Jett rasped. “ Kachow .”

“…”

Something within Mark Berskii broke. Something, Mark had no clue what, shattered at the sound of what Jett said. He spat into a coughing fit which enveloped his lungs and throat with every shaky movement of his heaving body. 

“You okay, man?! …I thought that was pretty cool.”

It took Mark a moment to catch his breath. Even high, he would need a moment to process the ever-confusing Jett Dawson.

———

They finished off the joint with no further incident, Mark giving a detailed demonstration on how to properly stomp out the flame on the dirt next to their picnic blanket. There was no way either of them were sober enough to operate a motorcycle, so they decided to spend more time atop the blanket, bodies curled up next to one another and gazes pointed up at the glowing stars. Between bites of the remaining birthday cake, they talked about whatever their half-high brains could conjure. Everything was still so warm, and their breaths still reeked of weed.

“So, I was thinking…” Jett spouted.

“Uh oh.”

“What if… since we can’t exactly get matching tattoos with how my skin’s healing up now… you got a really big one for both of us?”

“Tattoo of what?”

“I dunno! Something rad, though.”

Jett was leaning on his side, his right arm acting as a cushion for his head. Mark lay right next to him, practically no space left empty between them. Jett placed a gloved hand on Mark’s chest. He traced a shape that wasn’t there. With how gentle he was, it felt kind of nice against his skin. 

“What about my dragster right along here?”

Mark just cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“Really? You don’t like that idea?”

“No comment.”

“Okay, well… Hmm… How about…”

Jett spread out his hand and placed it in full on the center of Mark’s chest. 

“My face! My face right here!”

“Oh, definitely not…” 

“Yeowch… Fine, fine. You’re an impossible customer, broskii… How’s about this? What tattoo would you give me?”

Mark turned onto his side, mirroring Jett’s position. They were so close their foreheads were nearly touching. 

“I dunno…” Mark shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve thought much about what tattoos I’d pick for you in my day-to-day.”

“C’mon! There’s gotta be something you’d give me!” Jett poked his shoulder. “I’d get your face tattooed on my chest.”

“Okay, okay, I’m thinking… Just give me a minute…”

Mark decided to take the question seriously if only just to answer the topic Jett wouldn’t shut up about. As Mark finally thought up a good idea, he first paused, and then proceeded despite the hesitation. Maybe it was because he was still high, or maybe it was because he truly no longer felt the need for reservations between himself and Jett anymore— he gave his honest choice. 

“I’d give you Polaris…” he pointed to where Jett’s heart was. “Right here.”

“Oh! The auto manufacturing company!” Jett gasped excitedly. “They sponsored me once!”

“What? No… I meant Polaris the star…” Mark explained. 

“The star?”

“Yeah. You know, Polaris? The north star?” 

“Ooooh… Yeah, kinda! Why that one?”

“It’s…”

Mark didn’t know if his brain had the power to explain itself in his current state. Still, he tried. 

“I dunno, really…” Mark gave up, finding it too difficult. “It’s… I like it as a symbol, I guess.”

“A symbol, huh?” Jett followed quietly. “If you like it, then I like it too, broskii! North star it is!”

Mark watched as Jett reached his hand up into the air like he wanted to grab at the dapples of white stars hanging in the sky. Mark smiled at the sight, almost doing the same. In the end, he felt such gestures were meant for Jett and Jett alone. 

Jett returned his gaze to Mark. “How’s your birthday been so far, broskii?”

“Great,” Mark replied. “It’s been great. You asked me that before.”

“I was just making sure,” Jett tousled his hair. “That makes me happy. Mission accomplished!”

“Yeah… thanks,” Mark smiled. “Mission accomplished.”

“We should probably get going soon,” Jett yawned. “Once we sober up…”

Mark hated the idea of leaving so soon, but he understood why they had to do it. The fact that they didn’t have much longer to be in the little clearing under the sky of stars did nothing to stop them from snuggling just a little bit more, Jett wrapping his arm around Mark to keep him close. Mark rested his head on Jett’s chest, listening to the sound of Jett’s heartbeat against his ear. It was almost as relaxing as the weed. Shutting their eyes and relaxing for a while wouldn’t do too much harm, surely. 

———

Mark groggily opened his eyes to find a pale blue sky awaiting him. So many different sounds flooded his ears: Jett snoring next to him, the chatter of birds in the trees, a familiar, repeating tone emanating from somewhere… It was all very discombobulating. He leaned up from the ground and rubbed his eyes. It certainly wasn’t daylight out yet, but some time had clearly passed, so much so that Mark could make out details on surrounding trees that he hadn’t spotted in the dark of the night before. 

Something caught his attention on the nearest tree to their picnic blanket setup. Mark crawled over to investigate, careful not to disturb Jett’s slumber. It appeared that a chunk of the top layer of bark had been carved away, a design etched onto the new space. Mark squinted to get a better look.

Carved there was a heart with initials written inside: J + M. Mark sighed hopelessly, his face morphing into that of a smile. When did Jett even have the time to do that? 

Mark removed his phone from his pants pocket to snap a photo in case he never got to see the tree and its new design again. He was surprised to find that his phone had been buzzing insistently and playing the repeating alarm he’d heard earlier. Now that he was fully awake, Mark opened his phone, and turned off the alarm. It was 7:03 in the morning on February 6th.

He took the photo (clearly more important) and thought about the alarm… the alarm… 

“Shit!” Mark exclaimed— it was 7:03 on a weekday! “Jett, Jett! Wake up! We fell asleep!” 

“Huh? Whazza… Whazzat, broskii?” Jett said, drool falling from the side of his mouth. “Good mornin’…”

“We have class in an hour!” Mark told him, and Jett’s eyes widened.

“Ah, shit!”

In a panicked frenzy, Jett and Mark gathered their things and bolted from the clearing. As quickly as they possibly could, the duo raced to the hidden motorcycle, got it running, and began their return. Mark wasn’t entirely sure what Jett’s plan to get them in discreetly was, though there was a bigger question on Mark’s mind. 

“Hey, Jett,” he called to the coyote-masked man through his own helmet as the motorcycle started. 

“What’s up, broskii?”

Mark opened his mouth to ask about the carved initials, stopping himself right as the words were about to form. 

“Everything okay?”

Mark thought for a moment. “Yeah… everything’s great.”

“Cool beans! We’ll be back quicker than you can say… I don’t know! Something! We’ll be back soon!”

“I believe it.”

Mark was content to wait— it would be funny to spring the topic of the carving later on when he could get a full view on how flustered Jett may become. In the meantime, he rested his head on Jett’s shoulder, opting to think about the events leading up to where they were now. More than anything, Mark felt a deepening appreciation for the mastermind behind such a dangerous and daring operation. The fearless Jett Dawson had accomplished the near impossible. For that reason and many, many more, Mark was happy to be dragged anywhere by him.