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This isn’t what Jaebum is expecting when he opens the front door to his apartment. In fact, he doesn’t think he could have ever expected this and quite frankly, despite his general lack of awareness — Jinyoung’s words — this one isn’t something you can blame on him.
His brain feels like it might be short-circuiting, startled scream ripping out of his throat as he slams the door shut, horrified shudder running down his spine. He nearly topples Mark over in his haste, steady hands gripping his hips as he steps back.
“You...you saw that, too, right?”
“Our friends ass naked? Yeah.”
One of the old ladies down the hallway is poking her head out of her door, a discernible scowl on her face and Jaebum smiles tightly, despite the embarrassment burning hot from the tips of his ears to the curl of his toes.
“Right.”
Mark’s hands drop from his hips and the loss leaves him feeling less grounded, his hand still fixed on the door knob. He’s really not sure what to do with it so he leaves it there. Silence engulfs them until Jaebum is clearing his throat, taking another step back.
Right.
“Well…” he starts, glancing at Mark, who’s got this concerned furrow between his brows, mouth down turned into a pout.
“I thought you guys were, like, a thing?” Mark asks, eyes flickering up at Jaebum.
“Me and Jinyoung?” Jaebum splutters incredulously, a different sort of disgust swallowing him now. “I’ve known him since he was like five!”
“Oh,” Mark resounds, looks possibly more confused and Jaebum’s real number one priority right now is the assignment worth 15 percent of his grade that’s due at midnight, not squashing down a sudden urge to mollify Mark. “Huh.”
He’s about to suggest they just head to the library as they’d planned, snow storm be damned when the door opens. Jinyoung has a robe on now, and despite Jaebum’s best efforts to permanently erase the image of his best friend bent over their couch, naked, he can’t. He closes his eyes instead, lets out a breath before fixing Jinyoung with his best glare.
“You said you were going to the library.”
“It’s two-thirty in the afternoon.”
Jinyoung’s cheeks are tinged with red and Jaebum wants to believe it’s shame and not just the, uh, physical exertion he’s recently been through. Jinyoung’s track record with being discrete in his sexual forays is pretty great, Jaebum can admit as much, but he still didn’t want to see this. In fact, Jaebum’s been pretty convinced that Jinyoung schedules in his fucks. No, no, I can’t do Thursday at 9. How about Friday at 5?
“And Jackson? Really?” Jaebum adds, the air of embarrassment around Jinyoung increasing. He clenches his jaw, looking away from Jaebum and Mark before replying.
“Things happen.”
“You can say that again,” Mark mumbles, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Or well, I’d rather you didn’t.”
A loud shout from behind Jinyoung puts an end to their awkward conversation, Jackson’s tuft of blond hair popping up from behind Jinyoung’s shoulder. He’s fully clothed and Jaebum refuses to entertain his mind’s thoughts about whether or not they finished before they came to the door.
“Hey guys!” Jackson grins, not even the least bit ashamed and Jaebum wants to give him a good smack upside the head. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I live here,” Jaebum retorts, glaring and Jackson only grins wider.
“I know.”
Mark places a placating hand on Jaebum’s bicep, murmuring something about how Jaebum should take a deep breath. He listens, if only because the alternative might be that he pop’s Jackson’s head off.
“I’m, uh, just going to clean some stuff up,” Jinyoung interjects, grimacing. “Just wait here.” He closes the door in Jaebum’s face before he can retort back so he turns his aggravation toward Mark instead.
“Where exactly does he think we’re going to go?”
“The library?”
They should have gone to the library.
They probably would have been trapped at the library if they’d gone. Jaebum can’t see anything outside of the kitchen window, blur of white obliterating the city. It would have been impossible getting home and truth be told, Jaebum is really not all that fond of the library. Luckily, Jaebum begrudgingly supposes, in a cruel twist of fate, the universe had led them back to his place to face a different kind of horror.
At least he has food.
“How exactly did this start?” he asks, eventually, a bowl of ramen sat in front of him. He’s made one for Mark too, who’s happily slurping his noodles, dutifully ignoring the other two. If they want food, they can make it themselves.
“You want a play by play of me and Jinyoung fucking?” Jackson gasps, and Jaebum really can’t tell if he’s faking the surprise or not. “Kinky.”
“Can someone tape his mouth shut?” Jaebum asks. He already has a headache.
Jinyoung smacks Jackson in the arm, glaring.
“How about we not talk about this?” Mark offers, swatting away Jackson’s hands as they reach for his chopsticks.
“That sounds wonderful,” Jinyoung smiles, getting up from the table. Jaebum watches him until he sinks back into his seat, sighing. “Don’t you guys have an assignment that’s due or something?”
“Yeah,” Mark hums, lifting his bowl to drink the last of his broth. Jaebum’s barely made a dent in his bowl but then his appetite isn’t quite what it was.
“Come on guys, at least this’ll be a fun story to tell our grandchildren one day. We all have needs,” Jackson reasons, and Jaebum, quietly, wonders how someone could be so stupid.
“You’re planning to tell your grandchildren about how your friends walked in on you having sex?” He deadpans, watches as Jackson shrugs his shoulders.
“You have to start somewhere.”
This earns him another smack from Jinyoung.
They hole up in Jaebum’s room, and he’s thankful it’s not a complete mess given the fact that midterms are upon them. It’s still a mess, but Jaebum’s laundry is, for once, actually in his laundry basket and not littered on the floor in a haphazard heap. Presentable enough, he thinks to himself.
“Remind me why we took this class again?”
“Jinyoung said it would be easy,” Mark answers , flopping down on Jaebum’s bed. His sweater rides up, eyes closed as he lies on the mattress and Jaebum definitely doesn’t openly stare at the content expression on Mark’s face for that long. (He especially doesn’t look at the jut of Mark’s revealed hipbones.)
“We should stop listening to Jinyoung.”
“Agreed,” Mark hums, eyes flickering open and he’s staring at Jaebum with this half smile, fond and lazy and Jaebum’s heart does this thing. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “Guess we should finish the assignment, hmm?” Mark sounds tired, and not for the first time, Jaebum takes note of the dark circles hanging under his eyes like little half moons. “But man, the prof’s really an asshole; the midterm’s like a week away and he gives this to us now.”
“I’m beginning to think Jackson’s right,” Jaebum says, Mark’s eyebrows automatically shooting upwards. “You know, that all professors are unfeeling robots.”
“You agreeing with Jackson? Now that doesn’t happen often,” Mark laughs, delighted.
“We agree on stuff, just you know, usually he’s hellbent on being obnoxious but I suppose that’s what best friends are for,” Jaebum says, attention focused on pulling his laptop out of his backpack. He sinks onto the bed next to Mark, who’s got his own computer out and on. Mark’s smile has dropped, little furrow of concentration between his brows. Or at least, Jaebum thinks it’s concentration. He’s kind of pouting.
Speaking of best friends, Jaebum’s still kind of appalled that Mark thought he was dating Jinyoung of all people. It’s not like they were connected at the hip the way Jackson and Mark are and Jaebum’s never thought they were dating.
“Best friends,” Mark says thoughtfully, more to himself than to Jaebum and he’s almost not sure if he’s supposed to respond but Mark’s mumble has broken the (not so) comfortable silence settling between them. For a split second Jaebum thinks he’s maybe fucked up, it’s not like it’d be new but Mark doesn’t say anything more. The furrow between his brow darkens and Jaebum forces himself to look away.
He’s about halfway done his portion of the assignment’s first question, when Jaebum glances back up at Mark. His brain is ping ponging between thinking about his answer and about how Mark thought Jaebum and Jinyoung were together. He almost shudders in horror at the thought. And really it shouldn’t be getting under his skin so much but he also can’t wrap his head around how or why Mark came to such a conclusion. Jinyoung!
“Are you okay?” Mark asks, glancing back down to his laptop screen. Jaebum thinks he’s particularly tiny, almost kind of delicate.
“What’d you mean?”
“You keep making these faces like you’re going to be sick.”
Jaebum blanches. He really needs to stop broadcasting how he feels on his face. It’s not like he wants to have a conversation about how he’s totally not dating Jinyoung with Mark because well, there’s no conversation to be had. He’s not dating Jinyoung. Except for some reason he really wants to clarify that to Mark.
He opens his mouth to say something, thankful that Mark is still looking at his laptop and not his gaping mouth before closing it again. Scowling, Jaebum tries again:
“I’m not dating Jinyoung.”
Mark looks up from his laptop screen, blinks twice, an owlish sort of look. Jaebum can’t read anything into the expression, not that he’s particularly good at that sort of thing. Least of all with Mark. “Okay.”
Okay? What is he supposed to do with an okay?
“I’m not like, secretly in love with him or something either.”
Now Mark looks mildly alarmed, then amused, small smile breaking out over his face. Jaebum can’t say he doesn’t like it.
“That’s good.”
Jaebum turns back to his half of the assignment, quite frankly disgruntled by his need to clarify things to Mark. It’s not like Mark had even brought it back up. Jaebum purses his lips, annoyed at himself and possibly at Mark? Not that Mark’s done anything inherently wrong. Jaebum frowns.
They finish their assignment in record time.
The snow doesn’t plan on knocking it off anytime soon, and if it didn’t mean they were trapped in their dingy little apartment it would be almost fascinating. Except they are trapped in their apartment and eventually Jinyoung’s mother’s kimchi is going to run out, along with the two crates of tangerines she’d given them on her last visit. They’ve already decimated half of one.
“It could be worse,” Jackson says around a mouthful of citrus, burrowed into Jinyoung’s side. Normally it wouldn’t even register on Jaebum’s observation radar but his mind hasn’t blocked out the events leading up to their current predicament quite yet. “We could be trapped outside somewhere, defenseless against the brutality of winter.”
“Yeah,” Jaebum agrees. “That’s not nearly as bad as being trapped in here with you.”
Mark and Jinyoung snicker at the appalled look on Jackson’s face, Jaebum grinning as he reaches for another tangerine. His fingers brush Mark’s for a split second, whatever retort Jackson throws back at him falling on deaf ears.
“What?” Jaebum’s hand tingles.
Jackson makes a loud huffing sound, interrupted this time by the anchor woman on the news. “With snowfall predicted to reach up to a startling 3 feet, the city is currently on lockdown. All citizens are advised to stay indoors until further notice.” She cuts to camera footage of the city, cars literally abandoned in the middle of the streets, snow piling up higher and higher. Jaebum can’t see anything that isn’t covered in white.
“We should call the kids.” Jinyoung’s already got his phone whipped out, number dialed and phone pressed to his ear within seconds.
“They’re at Yugyeom and Bambam’s dorm room,” Mark says, leaning in to glance over at Jinyoung. “I texted them a while back.”
“Youngjae’s there too?” Jaebum asks, pulling his own phone out. He sends Youngjae a quick text anyways, wants to hear it himself.
“Yeah, they were gonna have dinner together,” Mark answers but Jinyoung’s already fussing over whoever he’s managed to call, asking a million questions at once.
“Guess we’re crashing here?” Jackson asks, hand running through his hair before he puts his snapback back on.
“No shit,” Jaebum replies, forcing himself to stand up. He should probably check what else they have to eat, maybe figure out if he has any extra blankets.
“It’s a sleepover!” Jackson grins, always excitable and Jaebum can’t help but smile.
“They’re going to starve,” Jinyoung wails, hanging up his phone call.
“Breathe bro, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Bambam’s good at flirting his way to some food.”
“Is that how you think the world works? The city’s on lockdown, no one is going to hand over food because you tell them their eyes are pretty.” Jinyoung looks exasperated.
“Uh, yeah they will? Works for me every time,” Jackson smirks, except it morphs into a goofy smile in seconds. Mark hides his laugh behind a hand and Jaebum definitely doesn’t stare.
It’s still there, that undercurrent of Mark thought you were with Jinyoung, like a ghost haunting him and he’s not sure why it’s bothering him so much but what else did Mark make assumptions about? They’d been friends for two years now, and Jackson probably would have mentioned something to Mark about liking him. Except Jinyoung hadn’t told Jaebum anything either. The thought irks him.
“Jaebum-hyung, bro, you alright?”
“Huh?”
“You’re staring.” Jackson looks from Jaebum to Mark and then back.
Mark’s got this frozen smile on his face, and he looks a little pink and okay, maybe Jaebum is staring.
“Right, sorry. I’m gonna — ” He makes a vague gesture with his hand before going to his room to look for those blankets. He probably doesn’t have any.
Jaebum steps out of the bathroom last, towel drying his wet hair, and as if on cue, the lights all zap out, leaving the apartment in a heady cloud of shadows. He shivers, the anticipation of the oncoming chill that’ll settle over the place already sinking in. Jackson’s phone illuminates his face for a brief second, the image burning in Jaebum’s eyes, eerie.
“Well,” Jinyoung offers, voice loud over the silence of darkness, “mercury is in retrograde.” As if that even begins to explain anything.
Murphy’s law states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Jaebum thinks the laws of physics need to back the fuck off because this is a little too much even for his resilient sensibilities. He’s staring at his narrow bed wondering exactly how he’s going to fit another person on it without, you know, essentially cuddling them. Except they’re going to need to share body heat so really, there’s no way out of this and Jaebum’s almost mad that he’s good enough at taking things in stride. He wishes he had Jackson’s flare for the dramatics.
The rest of the apartment flickers in and out of existence, Jinyoung’s excessively large candle collection put to some use. Mostly it’s only ever existed to assault Jaebum’s olfactory receptors.
“Well isn’t this romantic?” Jackson sing songs, entirely too delighted by the shitty turn of events. Jaebum would roll his eyes but that would involve using energy he doesn’t have. He spares his friend a quick glance, eyes finding Mark in the dark, always seeking.
“Tell me how romantic it is when you freeze your balls off,” he says dryly instead, watches Mark stifle a laugh as Jinyoung sighs in exasperation.
“I didn’t know you were so concerned for my nuts, hyung,” Jackson retorts, eyelashes fluttering and Jaebum scowls good naturedly. He has an image to uphold.
“Okay, okay, talk about your nuts later. Maybe in the morning,” Jinyoung grumbles, grabbing Jackson by the bicep and yanking him toward his room. It leaves Jaebum with Mark, and the ever-growing realization that he would have to share a bed with him, whether he chose to accept the fact or not.
As if sensing Jaebum’s inner turmoil, Mark smiles, Jaebum pretending the swoop in his chest is nerves and has nothing to do with him realizing Mark’s wearing his sweater. The red one. Jaebum’s favourite. It’s worn, the neckline wide on Mark’s lithe frame. “You think they’ll try again for round two?”
“I don’t want to go to bed sick,” Jaebum answers, pretending to gag and really, he doesn’t want to think about what the two of them get up to. His hands are already full.
Jaebum heads back into his room, Mark trailing after him and he’s a little like a skittish puppy, soft and cute and earnest. Standing by his bed, Jaebum scratches behind his ear, throat clearing. “I, uh, know it’s a little small but I think we’ll be okay? I mean — it’s gonna get cold anyways so…”
“I can take the floor, you know,” Mark offers, Jaebum glancing back at him. Jinyoung’s spared him two candles, the ones scattered around the apartment blown out as they’d made it to Jaebum’s room.
“I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor, hyung,” Jaebum frowns, turning to Mark. The room’s still shrouded in darkness, candles flickering shadows onto the walls. Mark’s quiet, lip caught between his teeth, hesitant smile growing stronger. Jaebum swallows, climbs into bed, can’t draw this out any longer. It’s already chilly in the apartment, and his two blankets might just be enough but probably not.
Mark lingers, moving only when Jaebum rolls his eyes and pats the bed next to him. He blows out one of the candles on his way over, the glow from the second guiding his way. When the bed dips next to Jaebum he shifts closer to the wall, suddenly unsure of his own body. His chest feels tighter, as if the locked into place like the blades of a fan.
“Thanks,” Mark says, tucked in under Jaebum’s blankets. They’ve somehow kept about a hand’s width of space between them. Jaebum’s back is flush against the wall and it’s cold, a shiver running down his spine. He’s staring at Mark’s profile, candlelight illuminating the swell of his lips, downward slant of his nose.
His room smells like apples, and Jaebum doesn’t mind it so much. “For what?”
“Letting me sleep here.”
Jaebum lets out a huff in exasperation, closing the distance between them until he can feel Mark’s body from shoulder to knee. “Friends don’t let friends freeze their junk off.”
“Unless they’re Jackson?”
“Unless they’re Jackson.”
Mark laughs, the tension easing out of the room and Jaebum’s happy for it, happier still to make Mark smile. They slip into silence, teetering on the edge of more contact and Jaebum’s so wrapped up what this could mean that he doesn’t notice Mark curling into him.
“You’re thinking too much.”
“Generally a good thing,” Jaebum mumbles, dutifully ignoring the way his heart leaps as Mark tucks his head under his chin.
“Not when it’s too much.” Jaebum lets his arm wrap around Mark’s shoulder, swallowing down the rising swell of panic that comes with it. They were sharing body heat. Mark smelled like Jaebum’s bodywash. “It’s cold.”
“Yeah,” Jaebum replies, doesn’t know if he’ll be able to fall asleep tonight but Mark is soft and pliable and it’s too much to think about. “Night, hyung.”
“Night.”
INTERLUDE
Jaebum meets Mark first. Except they’re not friends, that happens later when Jaebum meets Mark for the second time, Jinyoung and Jackson on either side of the doe eyed boy. He’d glanced up from his Information Systems textbook and found a shy smile on a boy he’d met maybe two weeks ago, at the time anything but shy.
He’d shown up at Jaebum’s dance practice, the university’s dance club something of an escape for him. At first glance Mark is just a skinny kid, kind of awkward in his own skin, narrow shoulders tapering down to equally narrow hips. He’s pretty, has that wide-eyed startled look to him, smile gummy, framed by full lips, and Jaebum doesn’t think much of him. He’s seen plenty of pretty boys.
Mark doesn’t remember him. Jaebum purses his lips, smiling only when Jinyoung’s glare, sharp and menacing, has him rethinking his unfriendliness. It’s not like Jaebum had remembered the kid’s name so it shouldn’t have mattered that Mark didn’t remember his face. Everyone had flaws; Jaebum more than most, probably.
And if Jaebum’s being honest, it’s not that he remembers Mark per se — he remembers Mark’s dancing, smooth and graceful in a way he’s never managed. Jaebum’s never been able to control his emotions quite the same way, always finding himself at the very ends of the spectrum: Too Much and Not Enough. Mark didn’t have Jaebum’s experience, hadn’t grown up dancing in a crew, is new to hiphop and b-boying, but he had the kind of determination Jaebum admired, respected.
If Jaebum was quantifiably good, Mark was a diamond in the rough.
Jaebum wakes up.
Jaebum wakes up and the first thing he notices is that Mark is pressed against him, face tucked into the curve of Jaebum’s neck and his breath hitches, heart stuttering to a stop, an engine out of gas. His brain races to catch up, left miles behind, Jaebum’s hand burning where it touches Mark’s naked skin, palm flat against the small of his back. Mark’s shirt has ridden up, Jaebum’s heart kicking back into motion, but it’s not smooth, like he’s caught on something.
Newton’s first law states that an object at rest will stay at rest unless an external force is applied to it. Jabeum thinks his resolve alone won’t get him moving.
Mark makes a little sound, halfway between a sigh and a snuffle and Jaebum’s chest tightens up, folding in on itself, a collapsing star. It’s not until Mark shifts, hand dragging down Jaebum’s side, fingers curling into the fabric of Jaebum’s sweatpants that he loses the sluggish awareness. His vision sharpens, sleep lost to a rising swell of panic. What was he doing? His left arm is trapped under Mark’s body, the other draped over Mark’s narrow frame and a very persistent part of him doesn’t want to move. It tastes like greed, sticks to the back of his throat, a desire to hold still, inhale the scent of Mark’s shampoo until he falls back asleep.
But his heartbeat is erratic, thundering past his ears, fear of the unknown a tricky beast, burrowing deeper into his bloodstream.
Mark smells like mint.
Jaebum blinks, pulls his hand out from under Mark’s shirt, notices for the first time that his alarm clock is flashing 12:00 at him. The electricity is back. Small mercies.
His back is plastered to the wall behind him, Mark leaving absolutely nothing between them, no space for Jaebum to pull his arm out, to get out. When he attempts to sit up, Mark’s brows furrow together, the peaceful expression on his face shifting to discomfort and Jaebum freezes. Mark is —
Another shift, and Jaebum can’t lie back down quick enough, eyes slipping shut, feigning sleep. Mark is waking up.
There’s a stifling silence, Mark’s body going rigid in Jaebum’s hold but to Jaebum’s surprise Mark doesn’t pull back right away. His hand loosens it’s grip on Jaebum’s sweatpants, hand trailing up Jaebum’s side and surely Mark can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat. Then the hand disappears and Jabeum’s arm, snug under Mark is free. He’s alone on the bed in the next heartbeat, eyes cracking open only when he hears his door creaking open.
He watches Mark leave, but the relief he’s expecting doesn’t come. Instead he feels...disappointed. He feels Mark’s skin burning against his own, the warmth of his body sinking into Jaebum’s bed and he falls into it, ignores the rational part of his brain asking him What are you doing?
And Jaebum is trying to figure out how he got to point D from point A. Jinyoung would accuse him of trying to solve this as if it were a math problem. Except Jaebum can solve those. He’s an engineering student.
Mark just makes no sense.
“How do you even know if you like someone?” Jaebum asks, purposefully indifferent, like he was asking Jinyoung about how his hot yoga class had gone. Jaebum never asks Jinyoung how his hot yoga class had gone. That would involve caring.
“Well, you start by being more emotionally cognizant.”
“English, please.”
Jinyoung only huffs, rolls his eyes, as he takes another bite of his apple. Jaebum’s hands never still as he continues to mince the onions, sniffling every now and then. Somewhere behind them, Mark and Jackson are trying to throttle each other in Super Smash Bro. Jaebum thinks he afforded his friends too much kindness. Why was he cutting the onions? He hated cutting onions.
Mark had mumbled a good morning to him when Jaebum had finally emerged from his room, careful to leave a solid thirty minutes between them. That had been it, Jaebum too chicken shit to look Mark in the eye, skirting away from him, as if terrified that if they touched, somehow Mark would know he’d been awake.
The thought sends a jolt of trepidation through him, Jaebum’s eyes flickering over to Jinyoung.
“What’s got you asking such philosophical questions this early in the morning anyways?” Jinyoung asks, eyebrow cocked up and Jaebum knows he knows. Somehow Jinyoung always does. He shoots him a glare, throws his chopped onions into the frying pan. Breakfast is omelettes, the last of their eggs going toward the meal.
There’s about three feet of snow outside, and it’s still falling, but without the vehemence that had buried the city alive. He’d checked the weather second, after he’d made sure Mark was, well, Jaebum doesn’t know what he was checking for. He had just wanted to see him, like he hadn’t just been spooning him.
“Oh, you know,” Jaebum says, “I was just wondering how you and Jackson happened.”
That catches Jinyoung off guard, the smug expression on his face faltering, tips of his ears burning. Jaebum gives him a sunny smile, the best one he can muster, pouring his eggs into the frying pan.
“We were just fooling around,” he mutters, and Jaebum can’t help but think that he enjoys embarrassment on Jinyoung. Knock him down a peg or two.
“So, what, he whipped out his dick and you said ‘Lemme get the lube’?”
“Fuck you,” Jinyoung snaps, threatening to throw his half eaten apple at Jaebum. “That’s not what happened.”
“Okay,” Jaebum says, flipping the omelette. Behind them, Jackson lets out a loud whoop, followed by the sound of a body or two hitting the ground. Neither of them spare their friends a glance. Jaebum waits for Jinyoung, who buckles under his carefully crafted nonchalance.
“It...it wasn’t the first time.”
Jaebum nearly drops his spatula, staring at Jinyoung incredulously. “What?”
Jinyoung gives him a meek smile. “We, uh, we hooked up at Namjoon’s party. A while back.” He’s pouting, like that’s going to make any of this better.
“Can’t believe you didn’t fucking tell me,” Jaebum hisses, annoyance spiking but then he supposes he wouldn’t want to say anything if they were just fooling around. He very purposefully doesn’t think about Mark.
“We were drunk,” Jinyoung points out, taking another bite of his apple. Jaebum slides his freshly made omelette onto an empty plate, starting the next one.
“Yeah, I start boning my best friends when I’m drunk, too.”
“Oh fuck off,” Jinyoung huffs, hand smacking Jaebum’s bicep. “You don’t get to act so smug.”
“Why not? In case you forgot, I’m not the one who got caught ass naked by my friends.”
“I don’t think you’d mind much if you were caught with a certain someone, right?” Jinyoung smirks, right back up on his high horse. Jaebum nearly drops his spatula, glaring at Jinyoung but even as he gathers up his biting retort, it dies on his lips.
I thought you guys were, like, a thing?
The thought slams into him, Jaebum suddenly feeling breathless. He shots a quick glance over at their living room, a complete mess now thanks to Jackson and Mark’s efforts. Jinyoung’s favourite quilt is lying on the floor, discarded behind the couch. It probably fell off.
“Funny story,” Jaebum says instead, very intently keeping his eyes on his frying pan. He’s on his last omelette. He clears his throat. “Mark thought we were dating.”
Jinyoung laughs, disbelief colouring his voice but more than that Jaebum picks up on very obvious amusement. He finally looks over, finds Jinyoung’s eyes crinkled up in mirth, a hand pressing to his mouth to stifle his snickers.
“Is that why you’re asking me about your feelings?”
“I don’t have any feelings,” Jaebum stresses, rolling his eyes at Jinyoung’s general uselessness. He’d expected more from his best friend.
“Oh, don’t worry, we all know that,” Jinyoung smiles, looking far too pleased with himself. Like laughing at Jaebum’s life is his favourite hobby. It probably is. “Figures that he’d be just as clueless.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Jinyoung waves a hand dismissively. “Breakfast’s ready assholes.”
There are, of course, worse ways to spend your snow days. Except there’s less free will involved here, but being trapped in an apartment with three of your closest friends is less of a punishment and more of a reward. Or, Jaebum would believe that if Jackson wasn’t slaughtering him in Call of Duty.
“I can’t believe you suck so much, hyung,” Jackson howls, and Jaebum watches himself die on screen again. He’s not bad at it. He just can’t stop staring at Mark’s head on Jinyoung’s shoulder, something biting and biting and biting at his heart. It’s not a feeling he can’t name, but he doesn’t want to. Naming things made them a little too real. Jaebum was rarely ready for that kind of commitment.
“You’re saying that like I haven’t handed your ass to you countless times,” Jaebum grunts, still distracted. Every now and then Jinyoung will glance over, give Jaebum a roll of his eyes or worse, a patronizing smile.
“That’s big talk for someone who’s managed to die every single game so far,” Jackson retorts, dropping his controller as the screen loads. Jaebum watches him roll his neck, ignores the tension in his own shoulders.
It’s easy enough hanging out with Jackson, it always has been. Jackson is loud, a loudness Jaebum finds himself slipping into in his company. It’s easy enough to do, the way Jackson’s presence alone lets him let loose, relax. Mark is different. Mark is quiet but comfortable, like Jaebum doesn’t have to be anything else to exist in that moment, he doesn’t have to slip into a role, there aren’t any guidelines. There’s just Mark, his arm around Jaebum’s shoulder as he smiles at him.
Jaebum finds the disparity disturbing, mouth twisting into a scowl. Jackson grins at him, takes another swig out of Jinyoung’s water bottle. Jaebum notes that Jinyoung doesn’t yell at him for it, didn’t the first time either, as if he hadn’t noticed. For someone lecturing Jaebum all the time Jinyoung could use some of his own advice.
“What’s this, round twenty?”
“Fourteen,” Mark corrects Jackson, Jaebum’s eyes glued to the screen for once. They’re still in the abandoned warehouse, both of them dying too quickly. Jackson’s antsy, keeps moving around where he’s sitting. They were supposed to play some basketball this weekend. Snowstorms had a way of putting a damper on most things, Jaebum supposes.
“Didn’t know you were keeping count,” Jackson says, shooting his way through three enemy soldiers.
Jaebum hadn’t thought so too, grabs a gun off some dead man’s body, taking the ammunition. Mark’s been quiet all morning, more so than usual, keeping mostly to himself. He can’t help but think it’s because of the whole sleeping thing. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
Sneaking another look over, Jaebum finds Mark staring at him, not the laptop screen. For once Jinyoung is focused, looks almost watery eyed. They were watching a drama, and Jaebum never did have the patience for those.
“Have to make sure you’re not cheating,” Mark mumbles, gaze shifting to Jackson, who lets out an affronted shout, excessively upset.
“I don’t cheat!”
“Sure you don’t,” Mark laughs, smile genuine for the first time that day. Jaebum dies on screen.
“Fuck, you’re useless,” Jackson mutters, but Jaebum’s not paying attention. It’s jealousy.
Jaebum names the beast, cursing under his breath, and it’s ridiculous. Jackson is Mark’s friend, as is Jinyoung. Jaebum can’t monopolize a person but suddenly it’s all he can think about. Making Mark smile hasn’t always been this important has it?
Jaebum’s eyes burn, but then nearly ten hours of playing video games did that to you. He’s managed to carefully avoid Mark, occupying himself with Jackson’s presence, but it comes at the cost of losing nearly every game they’ve played. The overly competitive part of himself is fuming but his head hurts, and his bed is still just as narrow as it was yesterday.
Dinner had been instant ramen, good enough for the time being. The snow had stopped sometime around four, adding another half foot to the city but the quiet left over by a city trapped indoors had been almost...peaceful. Too bad Jaebum had enough inner turmoil to set off a bomb.
Their hands had brushed together when Jaebum had passed Mark his ramen, the brief touch of Mark’s skin, burning through Jaebum until he feels like he’s touching Mark’s back again, soft breaths ghosting over Jaebum’s neck.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hand running through wet hair. Mark’s still in the shower and the desperate part of him, the one that feels kind of like a caged animal, wants out. He could sleep on the floor. The heat’s on. There’s no reason —
“You okay?”
Mark’s voice snaps him out of his daze, Jaebum bodily turning to look at him. He’s in another one of Jaebum’s shirts, the realization sinking into his skin with steady satisfaction. “Yeah, of course.”
It’s not very convincing because Mark’s raising an eyebrow and then shrugging just as quickly, as if deciding to press for an answer would be too much trouble. He’s right, of course. Jaebum doesn’t know what’s going on.
“Still cool if we share?” Mark asks, using the towel draped over his shoulders to dry off his hair further. He’s standing half a foot away from Jaebum, the scent of Jaebum’s body wash wafting off of him and he hadn’t noticed it yesterday. Brows furrowing, Jaebum pushes the thought aside, working his features into the best smile he can muster.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Mark mumbles something under his breath, eyes not meeting Jaebum’s and he doesn’t catch it at all, transfixed by the faint pink tinging Mark’s cheeks. Jaebum’s about to ask what’s wrong but thinks better of it, shifting toward his room’s light switch.
“You think they’ll have the streets cleared by tomorrow?” Mark asks, crawling into Jaebum’s bed. He tries not to think about what else he could be doing in said bed, cursing under his own breath.
“It’s a lot of snow,” Jaebum answers, wonders if he can handle another night sharing his bed with Mark.
“I’m worried about Coco, but Min noona said she’s looking after her,” Mark says, lip caught between his teeth again. Jaebum flicks the light off, moves toward his bed in the dark, thankful that he’d cleaned up his bedroom floor earlier that day.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Jaebum assures, squeezing in next to Mark. He doesn’t have the wall to push into today, thinks maybe he’s going to end up falling out of bed. Mark shifts, edges away from Jaebum to give him some more room and Jaebum doesn’t think, just reaches out for him, pulling him in closer. He’s warm, he’s always warm, Mark’s body momentarily stilling in his hold. The tension eases away, and when Jaebum finds Mark’s back pressed into his chest, he can’t help but tighten his hold. “I didn’t know you’d given Min noona a key to your apartment.”
“Jackson did, last summer when we went to Hong Kong.” Mark’s voice is quiet, but it seems to reverberate through Jaebum. If he tilted his head just a little bit more forward, he could kiss the back of Mark’s neck.
“And you never took it back?” Jaebum tries to keep his voice level, that familiar curl of envy wrapping around his heart. He feels ridiculous for it.
“Guess we forgot,” Mark mumbles, Jaebum’s palm flat against the plain of Mark’s belly. “But it worked out. I don’t know what I would have done if Coco was by herself.”
“I’m sure we could have trekked over to your apartment in a snowstorm. And I mean, if we froze into icicles along the way, I’m sure Coco would appreciate our efforts.”
Mark laughs, a pretty sound, filling the quiet of Jaebum’s room. He wishes, hand dragging in under Mark’s t-shirt, fingers seeking the warmth of his skin, he could replay the sound ad infinitum. Mark fits into him like he belongs there and Jaebum’s never thought about it that way before, like someone could.
He wonders, briefly, if that’s how it’s supposed to feel. If everything is meant to be balanced out. Jaebum’s wrathful rage for Mark’s quiet peace, one touch and Jaebum’s lulled back down. He thinks about Jinyoung and Jackson, like a set of scales, Jinyoung’s patience outlasting Jackson’s urgent need for quick, quicker, quickly.
Jackson is a constant force in motion, as if unable to stay still, and Jaebum knows that an object in motion will stay in motion unless an outside force acts upon it. Jaebum hurries to keep up, but Jinyoung knocks Jackson down, and Jaebum finds the realization comes with a sort of clarity he isn’t used to. Jaebum also realises that Mark has always been an object at rest, and Jaebum finds himself unwilling to hold back, wants to push push push.
“Goodnight hyung,” Jaebum says, but he thinks Mark’s already asleep.
His hand tingles.
INTERLUDE II
The first time Jaebum finds himself completely alone in Mark’s company is when he’s sitting in a hospital bed, leg in a fresh new cast. He’s being discharged in a few hours, Jackson and Jinyoung leaving the room to get Jaebum some real food, not the hospital gunk.
It’s awkward, to say the least. Mark doesn’t talk much and Jaebum’s never been all that great at starting conversations. There’s no Jackson to stand in as a buffer, endlessly talkative, and no Jinyoung to diplomatically steer the conversation to topics of mutual interest. Instead it’s just Mark, a wavering smile on his face, like he’s not sure if the occasion allows for a smile. Probably doesn’t help that Jaebum’s radiating rage.
It’s stupid, to be sitting in a room with someone Jaebum considers a close friend and not knowing what to say. He sighs, head falling back into his pillow as he wills himself to stop thinking about his broken leg and what that means and maybe try to stop scaring Mark. He’s been described as hostile before, and well, Jaebum can’t say he disagrees.
Surprisingly it isn’t Jaebum who breaks the silence, Mark’s quiet voice cutting through Jaebum’s self-pity. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jaebum retorts back with a little more bite than necessary. He doesn’t like pity.
Mark’s shoulders are hunched over, teeth worrying his lower lip, head bowed in his seat. He won’t look at Jaebum and somehow that’s even more annoying than the pity. He’s about to say something nasty, defense mechanisms being what they are when Mark looks up, eyes a little watery. Jaebum’s mouth closes.
“I know,” he whispers, “but this sucks. I was — I was really looking forward to the competition, getting to dance with you.”
Mark doesn’t cry, and Jaebum’s thankful for it, too bewildered to provide any kind of real comfort. This isn’t what he was expecting. Actually, the only thing Jaebum was expecting was silence, however tense. And it’s almost too much, all this concern, has Jaebum’s cheeks heating up, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. Mark is a wallflower, blends in easily because he enjoys his silence. He has Jackson to talk for him, as if making up for the excess, and Jaebum can relate, knows that Jinyoung fills in all the silences he leaves behind, as if compelled. Mark is different. He measures out every word as if he only has a limited supply per day and to waste even one would be criminal.
And maybe, sometimes, Jabeum thinks he just doesn’t like talking to him.
Except now he can’t fall back on that, not when he can see the slump of Mark’s shoulders or the way his knuckles have gone white, clutching the seat of his chair. He smiles for the first time since the doctor told him he wasn’t going to be dancing anytime soon. “It’s okay, shit happens. I’ll get better.”
“Yeah.” Mark’s quiet, drains the tension out of Jaebum like he’s pulling the plug out of a bathtub. He has a habit of doing that.
“Seriously, Mark, it’s okay. I’ll come watch you guys. You’ll have to dance for the both of us, yeah?”
Mark smiles, the sturdiest one all day, and Jaebum thinks it radiates through the whole room.
Jaebum wakes up to an empty bed, a quick glance at his alarm clock telling him it’s well past ten. He ignores the pang of disappointment, throwing his blanket off. For a moment he just lies there, groggy and disoriented, alertness seeping into him like coffee dripping through a filter.
He should get up, and it’s not like he’s tired, arms stretching up over his head as he yawns. The satisfying pull of muscles has him sinking back into the mattress, eyes closing until he hears Jackson’s voice.
“Oh come on! Who’s gonna say no to you?”
Jaebum sits up, fingers rubbing into his eyes as he finally swings his legs off the bed. By the time he makes it out of the room, Jackson’s gotten louder.
“You can’t just stay single forever, Mark. Come on, I’ll even ask her for you!” Jackson insists. He’s sitting next to Mark on the couch, Jinyoung hovering over them, eyes flickering from Jackson to Jaebum. There’s worry in his eyes.
“Ask who what?” Jaebum hears himself saying, heartbeat picking up. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, like an anchor hitting rock bottom.
“It’s nothing,” Jinyoung attempts to dismiss but Jackson frowns, already talking over him.
“I was just telling Mark he should give Min noona a shot. I’m like ninety-nine point nine percent sure she likes him.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Mark snorts, eyes fixed on his hands. He won’t look at any of them, and Jaebum finds himself willing him to look up, at him.
“She’s always asking me about you,” Jackson grins with a waggle of his eyebrows and Mark finally looks up, pink tinging his cheeks. “She definitely likes you.”
“Jackson,” Mark warns, eyes flickering to Jaebum, there and then gone. “I’m not interested.”
“Come on, Mark! You know she’d say yes,” Jackson insists. “Think about it, a mom for Coco.”
“She doesn’t need a mom,” Jinyoung huffs with a roll of his eyes, grabbing Jackson’s hand to pull him off the couch. Jackson goes all too willingly, as pliable as always, eyes bright.
“Everyone needs a mom,” Jackson retorts, allows himself to be pulled away by Jinyoung. They disappear into his room, Jaebum left with what feels like a hole in his gut. He doesn’t know why there’s such an ache in his chest. Except it’s not exactly inexplicable. It’s not exactly that he doesn’t know.
“Jackson thinks he’s cupid,” Mark says, offers as an explanation, the pink in his cheeks still there. Jaebum can’t tell if it’s embarrassment at the idea of dating Min or...or…
Jaebum should stop projecting.
“I mean, if you like her,” Jaebum says, shoulders shrugging. He can’t finish the sentence, swallows down the words and they burn on their way down, like molten lava searing through him. He turns to leave, gives Mark a tight smile before heading toward the bathroom.
“I don’t.”
Jaebum’s not sure if he’s hearing things, but he doesn’t look back. Doesn’t think he can, and Jaebum had learned young that heartbreak tasted like blood, metallic and unforgiving. But this, this glimmer of hope is too much to bear.
Jaebum comes out of the bathroom to find Jackson looking miserable on the couch, practically in Mark’s lap and he’d thought he’d heard raised voices but then Jinyoung and Jackson had a tendency of yelling at each other. He glances at Jinyoung’s closed door, padding over. Knocking, Jaebum waits for Jinyoung’s response, not quite wanting to push anything just yet.
“Not now,” comes Jinyoung’s curt response, and Jaebum wonders if he knows it’s him and not one of the others.
Glancing back to Jackson and Mark, Jaebum walks over slowly, hand reaching to ruffle Jackson’s hair. “What happened?”
“He won’t say,” Mark answers for him, looking up at Jaebum, lip caught between his teeth.
“It’s fine,” Jackson mumbles. “Just something dumb.”
“You look like they just announced that Keeping Up With The Kardashians got cancelled.”
“They would never cancel reality TV gold,” Jackson defends vehemently, eyes narrowing at Jaebum accusingly. It’s better than the kicked puppy expression he’s been wearing.
“Okay, so if it’s not that, then what is it?”
“Our first fight,” Jackson grumbles begrudgingly. If he could lie on top of Mark any more dramatically, Jaebum knows he would. To his credit, Mark takes everything in stride, as if absorbing all of their excesses.
“Trouble in paradise already?” Jaebum asks at the same time Mark says, “You guys are always fighting.”
It clicks a half second later, the significance of what Jackson’s said. Then they’re both in sync, surprise tinging their voices: “Wait, so you’re dating?”
“Uh, I thought that was obvious.”
“Define obvious.” Mark sounds… Jaebum can’t place it, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest. His eyes are wide, mouth downturn into a frown.
"You know," Jackson says, waving his hand about. Jaebum thinks that someone as expressive as Jackson would have the words for telling his friends what exactly is going on. But he doesn't and it's rather reassuring that Jackson can be rendered speechless, too. "I mean, I've been sleeping in his room."
"Mark and I are sharing my room, we're not dating," Jaebum points out, refuses to look at Mark as he says the words. He doesn't like the pang of hurt in his chest either.
"Yes. But, also, I didn't walk in on you, you know," Jackson says, as he makes a circle with one hand as the index finger of the other repeatedly thrusts into the circle. Jaebum wonders how he got so lucky.
"Right," Mark says, dumping Jackson out of his arms until he falls face first into the hardwood floor. Jaebum doesn't bother to help him up, Mark stepping over their friend's prone body as he heads for Jinyoung's room. He knocks on Jinyoung's door, "Hey, Jinyoung, it's Mark." The door opens a few seconds later and Jaebum is grateful Jinyoung is talking to someone.
“You know,” Jackson starts, “if you like him, why not just tell him?” They’ve been sitting, shoulder to shoulder on the couch, in their own bubble of quiet for the past ten minutes now. Jaebum supposes that he should be grateful Jackson’s lasted this long.
Jaebum pauses, looks up slowly at Jackson who’s got this furrow between his brows like he’s thinking too hard. “Like who?”
Jackson roll his eyes, a reaction just as loud and over exaggerated as him. “Really?”
“Sorry, I don’t happen to know how to read minds.” Jaebum knows he’s being stubborn, but Jackson also doesn’t have a tactful bone in his body and he doesn’t really want to have this conversation with him. It’s bad enough when Jinyoung gives him knowing looks mixed in with his long-suffering disappointment that Jaebum won’t do anything.
“Jinyoung said you’d be like this,” Jackson snorts, huffing as he slumps back into the couch. Jinyoung and Mark still haven’t emerged from his room. “You know, I’m pretty dense, but I didn’t think you were worse than me, hyung.”
“How long have you liked Jinyoung?” Jaebum asks instead, eyebrow quirked upwards.
Jackson doesn’t even look phased by the question and it kind of pisses Jaebum off. “Dunno. But I do.”
“How do you know you do?”
Jackson stares at him, and Jaebum immediately knows he was correct in assuming this wasn’t a conversation to be had with him. The smirk tugging at Jackson’s lips spells trouble and Jaebum wishes life had a rewind button. “If you want to suck his dick, you like him. And if you want to suck his dick multiple times, you wanna date him. Scientific facts, hyung.”
“Why do I even bother talking to you?”
“Because I’m adorable and most people think you’re scary so your options are very limited.”
Jaebum rolls his eyes, cursing under his breath and the way Jackson is waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously is enough to give him the beginnings of a headache. He decides this isn’t a conversation he wants to continue, changing direction as he gives Jackson his best threatening but not too threatening look.
“If you hurt him…” Jaebum leaves the rest unsaid. Jackson’s seen him knock a guy out while drunk.
“The feeling’s mutual,” Jackson replies, turning the TV on. “Oh, look! Descendents of the Sun is on!”
Jaebum sighs, wonders exactly what the fuck he keeps getting himself into before settling in next to Jackson. He’s pretty sure Jinyoung’s been making him watch this, or well. Weren’t they all the same?
INTERLUDE III
Kyungjoon slides, leg hooking through Mark’s ankles and Mark goes down faster than Jaebum can blink. This is the third time today and Jaebum’s starting to see red. He’s there, next to Mark before he even knows it, feet carrying him over half the field in seconds.
"You okay?" Jaebum asks as he helps Mark to his feet. There's a nasty bruise forming on his shin, mottled purple ugly even on Mark. Jackson's there in the next second and Jaebum leaves Mark to him, swinging around to face Kyungjoon, all the fury building in the slant of his shoulders hammering up until he's practically foaming at the mouth.
"What the fuck is your problem?" He snarls, hands fisted at his sides. It takes everything in him not to shove at him immediately.
"The fuck?" Kyungjoon sneers, has the audacity to look surprised. “Me? I don’t have a problem — him though, you should get his face checked out — it seems to have a problem with the ground. Pretty boy's gonna ruin his face.”
"You wanna say that again, motherfucker?" Jaebum spits out, stepping forward until he's in Kyungjoon's space, chest shoved against Kyungjoon's. Jaebum's a head shorter but that's never stopped him before.
Kyungjoon laughs, a particularly grating sound and knocks Jaebum back with a push at his shoulder. Jaebum takes one step back and then he's right back in his space, jaw set, mind set, fists ready to make impact. "If you can't take the heat, get off the field."
Jaebum can see the arrogance in his eyes and he doesn't think, blindsided, as his fist swings, collides with bone and Kyungjoon goes down like a falling bridge: all at once. Guys like him always do.
"Jaebum!" Jackson shouts, grabbing at Jaebum's arm but he yanks his arm away, snarling at Jackson to back the fuck off.
"Come on, you piece of shit, get up," Jaebum barks, laughing harshly. "This the best you got? A five year old's got bigger balls."
"You fucker," Kyungjoon spits, and there's blood mixed in, the sight of which sends a spark of satisfaction running through Jaebum. "You his fucking guard dog, he got you on a — "
Kyungjoon doesn't finish the sentence before Jaebum's grabbing him by the jersey and slamming his fist into his face again. This time he definitely breaks bone. He's ready to go in for another swing when two sets of hands are pulling him off and away, Jaebum thrashing against the hold.
"Jaebum." It's Mark's voice, painfully upset and right in the shell of his ear and Jaebum feels something go loose, immediately going limp in his friends' hold.
Shit.
"Fuck, I — "
"It's fine, lets just — lets go," Mark says quietly and he's got a hand wrapped around Jaebum's wrist as he pulls him off the field, Kyungjoon's taunts fading away in the background. The fury's still there, simmering just under the surface but he should have made sure Mark was okay and instead he'd. Fuck. He can almost see Jinyoung shaking his head.
They don't stop until Mark has them in the locker room, slumping down on a bench, hand still wrapped around Jaebum's wrist. His skin burns. Jaebum doesn't sit, knows Jackson is lingering somewhere on the periphery and Mark looks, not disappointed but not happy either. Jaebum can't figure him out.
"You didn't need to do that," Mark sighs, grip loosening on Jaebum's wrist. He doesn't want Mark to let go.
"He was doing it on purpose," Jaebum defends, sounds childish to his own ears.
"Yeah, he was but I'm fine. You broke his nose."
"He deserves worse."
Mark's hand slips but he looks up at Jaebum, the faintest of smiles on his lips. "Probably."
Jaebum grins.
Jaebum has spun around Mark in orbit for nearly two years now and he is no closer to understanding what makes Mark tic. It should leave him frustrated but it doesn’t and intrigue alone doesn’t have Jaebum unwilling to leave. Exit velocity, in this case, isn’t such an impossible thing. All matter has a gravitational pull, and Mark isn’t a supernova, burning through hydrogen faster than Jaebum can breathe. He’s much, much smaller. His hand fits into Jaebum’s easily.
There’s a chance Jaebum doesn’t want to leave.
Jaebum finds Jinyoung in the kitchen, standing by the coffee machine as a pot brews. He's thankful Jackson and Mark are busy gathering all their things, thinks it's best if he talks to Jinyoung alone.
"Hey," he greets, takes the cup of coffee Jinyoung offers him readily, although with a hint of surprise. Leave it to Jinyoung to always be prepared. "You alright?"
"Yeah," Jinyoung says, resigned. He takes a sip of his own coffee, black, and Jaebum knows he doesn't like it without some cream. They must be out. "Just annoyed."
"With Jackson?"
"I guess," Jinyoung answers but he sounds unsure. "Honestly, maybe I'm just tired. I have a fucking paper I should have been working on, instead I spent the weekend daydreaming about Jackson."
Jaebum laughs, takes a seat at the table. It's small, barely fits into their kitchen, taking over most of the space. "He's been here the whole time."
"Sometimes it's nice to fantasize, even if the object of your fantasies is right in front of you." Jinyoung gives Jaebum a pointed look and he really wishes everyone would stop doing that. Jaebum could understand his own emotions, thank you very much.
"So he's a better fantasy?"
"No," Jinyoung sighs. "Not what I said. I guess I just didn't expect we'd agree on the whole dating thing."
"Hmm," Jaebum hums, swallows a mouthful of coffee. "When were you gonna tell me about that by the way?"
"Maybe the next time you walked in on me and Jackson fucking."
"Ha ha," Jaebum huffs, glaring. Jinyoung gives him a smirk, looks a little better. "I mean, it's good that you figured everything out. Even if you didn't say anything."
"Oh, you mean the same way you've said so much, right?"
"Do all of you love being vague and cryptic?" Jaebum's annoyed, pushes the cup of coffee away just as Jinyoung sets his own aside.
"Minefields are difficult to navigate," Jinyoung snips, eyebrow raised.
Jaebum rubs a hand over his face and he's honestly too tired for this shit, but here he is. Again. "How about you just play house with Jackson and drop it? It's whatever, I get it. Date him, be happy."
“Are you giving me permission to date Jackson? I didn’t realise I needed it,” Jinyoung laughs in disbelief. Jaebum furrows his brows together.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying if that’s what you want —”
“I’m very good at figuring out what I want, thanks Jaebum,” Jinyoung snaps, all the amusement gone and Jaebum’s not sure why this is turning into a fight but the spike of irritation comes as it always does, ready to blast into full on rage. “Maybe you should figure your own shit out before trying to give me advice.”
“Yes because why would you ever need advice, right? You’ve got it all figured out,” Jaebum snorts derisively, hands clenching and unclenching. He doesn’t want to lose his shit over something so stupid. “All I said was that you should go ahead, he likes you.”
Jinyoung actually laughs, and Jaebum hears no amusement in it. “Fuck, I’m well aware. Do you just walk around with your eyes closed or are you actually that obtuse?”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Jaebum shouts, eyes narrowing. Jinyoung’s got his arms crossed over his chest, still leaning against the kitchen counter. Jaebum knows if he’d been standing, he’d be crowding into Jinyoung’s space by now, itching to punch him in the face; he’s grateful he’s sitting.
“It means, you fuckwit, to stop dangling your dick around and maybe, I don’t know, acknowledge you have feelings for someone else! He’s not going to wait forever.”
Jaebum’s jaw locks in place, furious that Jinyoung would bring up Mark, act like Jaebum doesn’t fucking know. “Fuck you, fuck you, what the fuck do you even know?”
“I know a five year old when I see one,” Jinyoung smiles, letting out a breath before he’s leaving the kitchen and Jaebum’s left with clenched fists and enough rage to slam a fist into the counter. If his knuckles burn, Jaebum doesn’t notice.
Jackson and Mark seem to pick up on the tension between them, because while Jinyoung holes up in his room again, Jaebum gets both his friends undivided attention.
"Thought you were heading out?" They'd heard that roads were starting to be cleared up, private snow removal companies coming in to the help the state, plus the added possibility of military help. Jaebum in't sure what they were going to do about it.
"Uh, that was before you and Jinyoung decided to file for divorce," Jackson states, sprawled out on Jaebum's bed. Mark's lying next to him and Jaebum doesn't even have room to sit on his own bed. Some friends.
"One fight doesn't require such drastic measures," Jaebum says dryily, shoving Jackson's legs off of his bed. He sits down in the empty spot, shrugging his shoulders at Jackson's offended expression. "My bed."
"You didn't shove Mark's legs off!" Jackson wears indignation a little too well.
"I like him more than you," Jaebum smiles, laughs when Jackson's jaw drops.
"I can't believe you're playing favourites!"
"You're already Jinyoung's favorite," Mark says, eyebrow quirked up and it shuts Jackson right up, face flushing.
"So?"
"So, Jaebum's mine. Right, Jaebum?" Mark looks expectantly at him and Jaebum's mouth has gone completely dry, heart stuttering to a stop before it kick-drums back into functioning.
"Y-yeah," Jaebum agrees, ensures that the heat he can feel in his cheeks doesn't bloom into any kind of full flush.
Jackson looks between them, smile spreading wider before he's collapsing back into Jaebum's bed, feet now in Jaebum's lap. He thinks about shoving them away again but well, it's not too bad.
Jaebum dozes off, or well, it’s the only way he can explain Jackson’s sudden disappearance and the comforting, pleasant weight of Mark’s head on his thigh. His back’s stiff from sitting against the wall, neck sore from his head’s odd angle. He can’t imagine he looks too attractive.
There’s a knock on his door, Jaebum glancing up. Mark’s still asleep next to him, and he dares Jinyoung to say anything about the position. He doesn’t, smile more of a grimace as he takes a step in.
“Mind if I come in?”
Jaebum just nods.
Jinyoung walks in slowly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to Jaebum’s thigh. They sit in silence for a while, and Jaebum should probably apologise, too. He’s about to open his mouth when Jinyoung speaks:
“You remember when we were sixteen and I told Seokjin I liked him?”
Jaebum’s jaw tightens at the memory but he nods, hand winding into Mark’s hair on its own accord. It’s not a pleasant memory, Jinyoung’s heartbreak like Jaebum’s own. Despite their differences, Jinyoung’s always stuck by Jaebum and he knows what a handful he’s been. Probably still is. Jaebum can admit that Jinyoung’s something like his moral compass, the thought of disappointing him enough to hold Jaebum back on most days. Jinyoung has a tendency of bringing out the best in people.
“And then I spent a month crying over it like it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It was, at the time, even if my moping was very dramatic. But I came out of it okay because I had you,” Jinyoung says and Jaebum’s really not sure where this is going but he listens anyways, Mark’s hair soft and silky under his touch. He scoots back in the bed, back hitting the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Jaebum. “You were always protecting me when we were kids.”
“You’re my best friend,” Jaebum says pointedly. “Even if you’re annoying.”
“You say that like you’re any better,” Jinyoung scoffs, hand lacing with Jaebum’s free one. He sighs. “Jackson and I got into a fight because he was being an ass. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“It’s fine,” Jaebum assures, fingers tightening over Jinyoung’s hand. “Did he say anything?”
“Not about me,” Jinyoung says quickly. “He — the date thing, with Mark. I told him to knock it off before you even woke up but in usual Jackson fashion, it went in one ear and out the other.”
Jaebum frowns. “Why would you get mad about that?”
“Because you’re my best friend, too.”
Jaebum rolls his eyes, almost laughs but Jinyoung is looking at him very seriously, concern in his eyes. “I’m not made out of glass,” he says, finally.
“Never said you were,” Jinyoung says quietly.
“Thanks.” And Jaebum hopes Jinyoung understands what he’s really thanking him for. “Where’s your boyfriend anyways?”
“Passed out on the couch,” Jinyoung answers. Jaebum notes that he doesn’t deny the label.
“Didn’t sleep much last night?” Jaebum teases, laughing when Jinyoung goes red, scowling as he pinches him in the side.
“Is that why Mark’s taking a nap?”
“Fuck off.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
There’s this niggling feeling in Jaebum’s gut, one that reminds him that his pillow kind of smells like Mark and not just his body wash, but Mark and that’s important. That’s important because Jaebum can’t stop thinking about it, about how it’ll fade eventually even if he resolves to never wash his pillow case.
The solution to the problem is obvious but Jaebum can’t seem to bring himself to act, rooted like a tree to his spot by the front door as he watches Mark pull on his boots. Jaebum hasn’t dared to look at Jinyoung yet and he’s thankful for it when Jackson goes over to kiss his boyfriend. They’ve made up and Jaebum imagines he’s going to have to suffer through a lot of that. Making up. That which follows.
“Text me when you get home,” Jinyoung mumbles and Jaebum still won’t look over, Mark and him sharing a look. Mark pretends to gag, smiling when Jaebum hides a laugh with a fake cough. He knows Ji nyoung’s glaring at him.
“He’s not going to war, he’ll come back,” he reminds Jinyoung.
“Shut up.” Curt as always.
Mark smiles at him, amusement colouring his eyes and Jaebum wishes he could stare at them longer, learn every little speck of brown in Mark’s eyes until he can’t forget.
“Give Coco a kiss for me,” Jaebum says to Mark, in lieu of the thousand other things he’d rather be saying but courage is a funny thing, slips through Jaebum’s fingers like grains of sand.
“Will do,” Mark agrees, grabbing Jackson by his backpack. “Come on, you can make out with him later.”
“I hate you,” Jackson whines, but he lets Mark drag him out the door, leaving Jinyoung and Jaebum in an apartment that suddenly feels rather empty.
It’s stupid really, how Jaebum can’t shake the feeling like he’s fucked something up. He’ll see Mark in a few days, sooner probably. One weekend can’t change everything and it sounds like he’s making up excuses. His stomach is filled with knots, growing heavier and heavier and when he glances at Jinyoung, finally, his heart shakes.
Jinyoung is giving him the most unimpressed look Jaebum’s ever been on the receiving end of, worse than the time when Jaebum had completely lost his shit at a dance competition when some cocky piece of shit had tried to start something with him. His mother’s name had been insulted, Jaebum wasn’t going to leave without knocking out a few teeth.
He knows what he has to do, he knows. He knew since — since, god, he’s always known, hasn’t he? But this is different, this is desperation, this is looking loss in the face and Jaebum’s so furiously stubborn, he won’t accept it. He’s never accepted it. Jaebum isn’t an object at rest.
Mark’s already gone, their front door shut, Jinyoung’s resignation echoing in the leftover emptiness. Jaebum stands, outside force push push pushing and he propels forward, the sudden speed of his movement nearly knocking Jinyoung down. The rate of change of the momentum of a body is directly proportional to the net force acting on it. He barely gets his feet into shoes, before he’s yanking his front door open and running down the hallway, forgoing elevators. It’s only five stories. Jaebum’s already in motion.
He runs.
He runs and it’s not like the world’s going to end, the seriousness of his need nearly blindsiding him in his haste and he’s forgotten a jacket, can distinctly remember the hollow echo of Jinyoung yelling after him for it. His t-shirt is threadbare and he feels it when he squeezes past the front door of the apartment complex, goosebumps raising all over as winter greets him with the same care it would an enemy. But he is an object in motion.
“Mark!” He stumbles in the snow, feels it slip into his shoes and it’s cold, it’s fucking cold but this is important, this is —
“Jaebum?” Mark’s eyes are wide, his figure standing out against the sparkling white surrounding them, nearly thigh deep in snow. The weather had really outdone itself.
Jaebum nearly trips twice, is thankful he doesn’t, thinks the universe can wait just a little longer before he gets such an intimate experience with a faceful of snow. “Mark, Mark — wait, just —”
And then he’s there, Mark standing in front of him, unmoving. An object at rest.
His lungs burn, either from the cold or the mda dash down here but he can see every exhale in white puffs as his breath leaves his body. Mark looks bewildered, eyes wide, hand resting on Jaebum’s bicep. “Jaebum?”
“Hyung,” Jaebum starts, sucks in a lungful of air, the cold leaving shivers behind in its wake. “Hyung,” he repeats, his brain still seeming to catch up with the rest of him.
“You okay?” Mark’s hand squeezes Jaebums bicep, brows knit together in concern and he’s so close, Jaebum can smell the spice of his bodywash on him. He reaches out, hand trembling as it finds Mark’s. The tips of his ears are burning, and Jaebum fools himself into believe it’s just the cold.
He licks his lips, finds himself staring at Mark’s mouth before he looks him in the eye, and with his usual smoothness, blurts everything out. “I'm going to kiss you now.”
There’s nothing for a beat, just Mark staring at Jaebum, his eyes seemingly wider if that were possible. Jaebum’s feet are wet. Then he nods, and Jaebum is reaching forward, hands fisting into Mark's jacket and Mark tastes like an answer, lips a little dry. Every knot twisting itself bigger and bigger in Jaebum’s body seems to unravel until he’s pressed, chest to chest, holding him in place, desperation hurling him forward. Mark leans into him, and Jaebum can feel his smile against his lips, finds himself grinning stupidly as he pulls back just a little, pressing quick, little kisses to Mark's mouth insistently.
"I think I like you," Jaebum tells Mark, shivers in the cold and Mark is kind enough to wrap both his arms around Jaebum, pulling him in as close as he can go. He's not warm, not by a long shot but he's close enough that he can suck in every exhale Mark lets out.
“And you thought now was the best time to tell me?” Mark says, slowly, teasingly, like Jaebum’s stupid and won’t understand the question. Suddenly his throat tightens up, heart seizing in his chest and he thought, he thought — the kiss —
"Try not to make me wait this long next time," Mark says as Jaebum attempts to even out his breathing, Mark leaning in again to kiss him again. Jaebum's heart swoops, like it just might burst out of his chest, a canon firing, and —
The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks them apart, Mark’s smile so big and wide, he can barely contain it and Jaebum’s cheeks hurt, his fingers are starting to feel a little numb but it’s worth it.
“I’m a little offended that you just forgot I was here,” Jackson accuses, but Jaebum can’t take his eyes off of Mark, the pink in his cheeks so pretty.
“I’ll make sure to forget you more often,” Jaebum smirks, finally looking at Jackson, deflating at the sight of Jackson holding his phone up.
“Please tell me,” Jaebum says very slowly, “that you didn’t just fucking film this.”
“Oh, I’m still filming,” Jackson smiles, delighted and then he’s running through three feet of snow like he’s going to get anywhere all that fast. “Jinyoung’s going to love this!”
“Let him go.” Mark squeezes Jaebum’s arm again, and when Jaebum looks at him, he finds amusement and softness in his eyes. “You should go back inside. You’ll catch a cold.”
Behind them, they distinctly hear Jackson shout as he most likely falls over into the snow. Serves him right. “Uh, yeah, good idea.”
“I’ll — I’ll text you,” Mark smiles, and Jaebum can’t help himself, leaning forward to kiss Mark again, ignoring the numbness in his cheeks. It’s quick, more an assurance than anything else.
“Destroy his phone.”
“He'll never see it again.”
Jaebum laughs, reluctant to let Mark go but he does. “I’ll see you later.”
“Go, I don’t want to date a popsicle,” Mark huffs, but there’s no bite to it.
Jaebum grins, and he must look like an idiot, giddy with happiness but he doesn’t care. “Going.”
He makes his way back into the apartment as quickly as he can, glancing back to watch Mark help Jackson back up to his feet. His jeans are soaked through and he’s going to need to bundle under maybe five blankets to get the feeling back in his toes but it’s still worth it.
Jaebum’s hand tingles.