Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mark still remembers the day he met Jaehyun. Of course he does—it was also the day he met Jeno.

Like all spiritual experiences, it’d happened in church, on a Sunday. He was seven years old, still young enough for Sunday school but old enough to resent being lumped in with the other babies. Mark’s mom had knocked on the door to the schoolhouse while they were in the middle of a warbling rendition of Amazing Grace, holding hands with a little boy who looked even younger and shyer than Mark. She’d quickly whispered something into their teacher’s ear, motioning to the boy.

“This is Jeno,” she’d explained, slotting him into the desk next to Mark’s when neither of them moved to respond to that. “His family just moved here from Korea, so I expect you to take the reigns when it comes to showing him around, Mark. Okay?”

“Okay.” Mark wasn’t sure what take the reigns meant but he’d nodded all the same. His mom left as quickly as she came, opening the door just wide enough to reveal another middle-aged woman who had the same eye-smile as Jeno, except she wasn’t trying as hard to hide it. She was holding the hand of another young boy. That one looked older than Mark, old enough to sit with the more mature kids in the main service. Like Jeno and the woman, he had a sweet, gentle eye smile of his own. Dimples to match. Then the door closed.

“How old are you?” Mark asked Jeno as soon as their teacher announced play time, just in case Jeno was one of those kids who would seem chill when parents weren’t just to tattle behind you back when they showed up again. He didn’t want to get in trouble with his parents later for not taking the reigns.

Jeno stared at him blankly.

“Oh,” Mark remembered. He tried again in choppy Korean. “How old?”

Jeno still looked confused, but he held up six stubby fingers.

“I’m seven.” Mark held up the correct amount of fingers and gestured to himself. “Who was that in the, uh, doorway?”

“Eomma,” Jeno whispered. It was also possible that he just spoke really really softly.

“No, the other kid.”

Jeno only perked up imperceptibly, but still enough for Mark to understand that whoever the other boy was, Jeno looked up to him tremendously. “Oh, that’s my hyung. Yoonoh.”

That was the end of the conversation. Past that, Mark’s Korean was embarrassingly rudimentary, as his parents so often liked to remind him. He didn’t think Jeno would appreciate Mark counting to one hundred or reciting the days of the week, so he shut up.

Looking back, Mark can’t say what had changed in the twenty minutes between his mom dropping Jeno off at class and that short conversation that made him decide he wanted to be friends with Jeno. Maybe it was the realization that Jeno’s quietness seemed less malicious and more plain out shy. Or the fact that it could be kind of nice to have another Asian kid around at church. It even could’ve been the brownie points he’d receive from his mom later for being welcoming.

More accurately, Mark doesn’t want to say what had changed.

(That’s my hyung. Yoonoh.)

(Hyung. Yoonoh.)

(Yoonoh.)

As it goes, Mark spends the first few years after befriending Jeno and Yoonoh pitying them. He doesn’t mean to, or even want to, really—but he does.

It’s just, he knows from experience that it’s kind of a drag being anything other than normal in their small New England town. Normal, to be clear, almost always means white. When Mark moved to town a few years back, the other kids had been straight up terrible towards him, and that was being generous (Mark is always generous.) They’d asked if he could even see with his little eyes (Mark literally wore glasses,) spoke to him in slow, emphasized English (Mark was literally born in Canada,) and flat-out told him to go back to China (Mark was literally Korean.)

They’d loosened up as the years went on and it became clear that Mark would not be going back—to Canada or China. Though Mark has a sneaking suspicion it was his middling friendship with Jaemin, the only other Asian kid at their school, that had really stopped the taunting. No one ever made fun of Jaemin because his mom was a stern fifth grade teacher who didn’t hesitate to call the parents of anyone she caught being a bully. (Also, Jaemin had a reputation as a bit of a biter. Mark had never caught him at it, but he wouldn’t put it past him, and the rumours worked in their favor, anyway.)

The point is that Mark’s been through a lot since moving to Connecticut. It’d kill him if he had to watch Jeno and Yoonoh go through the same thing.

So naturally, Jeno and Yoonoh never have to go through the same thing. Mark’s only a little bit envious of how easy it is for them to transition into small-town life. Mostly he’s happy for them. Really.

Their classmates quickly realize that Jeno, for one, is simply too pitiful to tease. He’s the type of kid who tears up when someone else falls off the swing sets, and he hesitates, unsure, at the first sign of bullying as if he can’t fathom why any kid would be mean to another.

If Jeno escapes the microaggressions because he inspires sympathy in others, Yoonoh gets off for inspiring adoration. Jeno’s hyung gets popular overnight—a result of devastatingly good looks mixed with just enough reservation to come across as mysterious but not aloof. Everybody loves him, which is only odd because he doesn’t seem to like anyone back. He’s as quiet as Jeno but not nearly as smiley. Both brothers have a rather odd sense of humor that Mark only gets because their families spend so much time together. The type where you don’t realize a joke is being made until it’s too late.

Not that it matters. Every girl at their school giggles when Yoonoh talks anyway, as rare as that is. He picks up English fast, a bit faster than Jeno, a lot faster than Mark can get good at Korean, but sometimes Mark catches Yoonoh blinking up at people in false confusion when they speak until they give up and walk away. Mark knows that Yoonoh’s fluent, but he never says anything to out him. It feels a bit like their little secret. Mark likes that.

When Mark is ten, Yoonoh goes to middle school and Mark stops seeing him as much outside of in passing at playdates over Jeno’s house, or when he cranes his neck on Sunday mornings to see the Jeong family sitting a few pews away. Mark’s mother always pinches his ear until he faces forward again, hissing that he can play with Jeno later! but Yoonoh never even looks in their direction. His eyes are always trained forward, gazing up at the pastor with dizzying single-mindedness.

Mark’s twelve when he hears from Jeno that Yoonoh is changing his name to Jaehyun.

“What?” Mark demands. They’re in Mark’s bedroom, lying on their bellies against the thick rug and playing Nintendo. There’s a tray of baby carrots and apple sauce that his mom had brought up on Mark’s desk. “Since when?”

Jeno doesn’t look up from the screen where he’s playing as Mario. (Mark is Luigi, but only begrudgingly. It’s because he can still hear his mother’s voice from all those years ago in his head. Take the reigns.) Jeno shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s been talking about it since, like, Christmas. But Eomma just agreed last week.”

“How come?” Mark presses. “What’s wrong with Yoonoh?”

“Bro, I told you I don’t kn—watch out!” Jeno huffs as Mario gets shot by a fireball and dies. “Way to go.”

“I just don’t get it.” Mark closes his Nintendo. “Yoonoh’s a good name.”

“Well, you know how Western kids are,” Jeno mutters. “Can’t pronounce anything. No offense. I think he wants his friends to call him Jay or something.”

“Jay,” Mark echoes beneath his breath. An unexpected flair of—annoyance? anger? clouds his visions for a second. He wants to go up to every kid who ever even implied there was anything wrong with Yoonoh’s name and punch them in the face, even though he’s never thrown a punch before and the thought of doing so kinda makes him want to cry.

He’s not sure why. In the moment, he chalks it up to some misplaced immigrant-kid solidarity. It’s not until much later that little episodes like this, inexplicable instances that cause Mark’s cheeks to flame up, or Jeno to give him an odd look, start to add up and point to one glaring explanation. But that’s much later.

(Yoonoh.)

By the time Mark’s a freshman in high school Jaehyun is newly licensed and driving around town in the Jeep Wrangler his parents gifted him for his sixteenth birthday. He has no time at all for his little brother, let alone his little brother’s best friend.

Which is fine, because there are plenty of other things to focus on that year. Mark’s dad is promoted to head pastor at church. His parents finally allow him to get contacts. Both Mark and Jeno get their braces off. They go to their first high school party and Mark throws up after having two sips of warm beer (he wasn’t drunk; just so guilty he felt nauseous.) At the same party, Jeno gets asked out by a sophomore girl but proceeds to freak out and ignore all her text messages the next day.

It’s out of solidarity with Mark, he claims. Mark’s parents won’t let him date until he’s sixteen, so it’d be unfair if Jeno had a girlfriend for a whole two years before him. Mark kind of calls his bluff, but he doesn’t say anything because he’s secretly pleased. He doesn’t want Jeno to get a girlfriend. He doesn’t even like when Jeno ditches him once in a while to hang out with Jaemin, whom it turns out he’s surprisingly compatible with. Jaemin’s family doesn’t go to church. Jeno once told Mark that Jaemin doesn’t even believe in God.

Jaehyun doesn’t seem to have the same reservations about dating that his little brother does. He starts dating the most popular girl in their grade around the same time he gets the car. Not only is Natalie Jacobs head cheerleader and class president, she’s just plain nice. Like, sometimes Jeno’s mom makes Jaehyun drive them to choir practice on Thursday evenings, and if Natalie happens to be sitting in the passenger seat, she’ll turn around to coo at them and ask how midterms went like she actually cares. She’s like Jaehyun, in that way. Hard to dislike.

For reasons he can’t comprehend, Mark’s stupid brain keeps trying to think of reasons why Natalie and Jaehyun don’t fit together.

“Don’t you think?” Mark asks Jeno casually. They’re in Jeno’s living room that evening. Jaehyun just dropped them back here after choir before leaving to bring Natalie home, too. They’re supposed to be working on their science fair project, but Jaemin’s mom is one of the judges so they’re pretty much a shoo-in for third place. “I bet they’ll break up before college.”

Jeno frowns. “Doubt it. The other day my eomma was joking around about naming their kids and hyung only told her or shut up once. They’re gonna like, get married.”

Mark winces, then remembers that he doesn’t care either way. “Dude, you’re gonna have wasian nieces and nephews.”

“Dude!” Jeno laughs.

When Jaehyun gets home around midnight, way past curfew, Jeno’s sound asleep in his bed, lightly snoring and probably drooling. Mark’s still awake, on the floor in the designated sleepover air bed they’d been dragging back and forth between their two houses for years. He can hear Jaehyun locking the front door behind him.

There’s a sliver of light peeking in from the hallway because they always leave the bedroom door cracked (Jeno’s still scared of the dark but too embarrassed to use his plastic Jesus night light when Mark’s over.) (Mark has one, too.)

Jaehyun tiptoes by with his hair all mussed and lips all swollen. The collar of his shirt is pulled slightly askew, and oh, suddenly Mark is breathing heavy, uncomfortable in Jeno’s old pajama pants and too warm beneath the blanket.

Just before entering his own bedroom, Jaehyun turns around and looks across the hall—like he can feel Mark staring. He grins, raises a finger to his lips as if to say shh, don’t tell.

Mark just swallows. He never tells. It feels a bit like their little secret. Mark likes that. A lot.

The thing is, Mark has a hyung, too.

Most people in town don’t remember. Of the ones that do, Mark’s parents have probably convinced them to forget.

Johnny is even older than Jaehyun. Mark’s first memory is of himself at four years old, eavesdropping at the top of the staircase as his parents argued in whispered Korean he could only barely understand.

What are we going to do about him? That was Mark’s mom’s voice.

Send him to school in Seoul for a year? Mark’s dad. They’ll whip him into shape—

Mark’s mom again, this time around a gasp: Why? So my parents can say I told you so? Call us failures? It’s just a phase. He’ll grow out of it.

But what if he doesn’t?

Having heard enough, Mark turned around to go back to bed, only to find Johnny listening directly behind him. Johnny was a tall and lanky kid, even as a middle schooler, but seeing him sitting on the top step in his pajamas, eyes wide and skinny body curled around the banister…he looked small. Smaller than Mark, even.

Johnny had simply winked and smiled comfortingly at Mark, as if to say, don’t worry. It’ll be alright.

He was wrong. Mark grows older, loses his first tooth, starts preschool. They leave Canada and move to Connecticut. Johnny gets expelled again. Mark gets used to hearing, eat your greens or you’ll turn out like your brother. Do your homework or they’ll kick you out of school like they did your brother. Pray every night or God will abandon you like he did your brother.

Mark never understood what Johnny did that was so bad, even as their parents listed off the offenses nightly: first it’s the piercings. Then the drinking. Tattoos. Weed. Still, Mark likes to think their parents would’ve let all of that go. And maybe they would’ve, if it wasn’t for the final nail in the coffin. It’d happened just two weeks before Jeno and Jaehyun had moved to the states.

Bisexual. Mark’s parents had repeated it like it was a dirty word. Maybe it was.

Mark had hid under his covers with his fingers plugging his ears but that still hadn’t been enough to escape the yelling. Pieces and bits of the conversation floated up to him. So disappointed. How could you? Disgusting.

And, never step foot in this house again!

Mark knew then and there that he could never be on the receiving side of comments like that. It’d kill him. He promised to himself that he would try his hardest to be the perfect kid. And for a long time, he was. He paid attention in Sunday school. Got good grades. Did the right thing. Whenever he came to a crossroads, or was confronted with the question why? he remembered that day. His dad’s voice. His mom’s tears. Disgusting. Disgusting.

When Mark woke in the morning, Johnny was gone.

Mark and Jeno survive sophomore year of high school. Jaehyun and Natalie go to prom together. They’ll go to college together, too, in the fall. Jaehyun gets a full scholarship to the University of Connecticut. They host his graduation party at the church one weekend, and Mark’s dad says a prayer for Jaehyun’s health and success in college. Dear Lord, they pray, Don’t let worldly temptations keep our son from your heavenly kingdom. Protect him from perversion, sin, and unholy lifestyles. Help him to focus on your love and never waver in his loyalty to you. Amen.

“Amen,” Mark whispers.

Mark and Jeno leave for camp the next morning. They’ve gone to upsate New York for Camp Faith every year since Jeno moved here to spend their July swimming in the lake, reciting Bible verses, and getting hazed by the older kids. It’s the first year that Jaehyun’s too old to join. It’s also the first year that they’re old enough to be camp counselors. Technically, Mark was old enough last summer, but he didn’t mind waiting around for Jeno so they could do it together. He never minds waiting around for Jeno.

Camp is as fun as it is every year, especially on the counselor side of things. Mark gets assigned to a cabin of seventh graders and makes fast friends with Jisung, a new camper all the way from San Francisco who looks like he’s gonna throw up every time a new ice-breaker activity is suggested. Most of the campers here are from uber-religious families, other kids of preachers and Sunday school teachers. Jisung’s one of those rare cases, not particularly religious but just ended up here because his parents have enough money to afford it. He seems happy enough to follow Mark around, anyway.

Mark’s also really looking forward to seeing some of the regular campers, their old friends Renjun and Chenle. Renjun’s from right here in New York, but he’s been bringing his cousin from China, Chenle, to Camp Faith since they were kids. Mark always thinks that it’s kind of a funny way for Chenle to spend his few precious weeks of vacation in the States, but he never voices this. He loves having them around.

Chenle never stops talking, even when half the time, the only person who understands his half-Mandarin, half-English rambling is Renjun. Renjun is headstrong and opinionated, the kind of kid to raise his hand in the middle of Bible study and ask something like, if God really sees everything, why didn’t he stop slavery? Renjun’s questions usually get him scolded by their senior counselors, and they kind of make Mark uncomfortable sometimes. They kind of excite Mark sometimes, too.

Except, this year Chenle shows up to camp alone.

“What do you mean, he’s in Jilin?” Jeno asks. They’re sitting around the campfire with some of the other campers, and the shadows from the flames are casting weird lines over his expression, emphasizing his frown. “He hasn’t been to China since we were like, ten. And he hates your extended family. No offense.”

“His parents sent him,” Chenle mumbles. “I didn’t even get to see him before my flight here.”

“He really didn’t say why?” Mark presses. He twists his skewer just so; he’s demonstrating to Jisung how to roast the perfect marshmallow. “He won’t answer any of my texts.”

“Yeah, I think they took his phone.”

“Jeez, what happened?”

Chenle says something under his breath.

“What?” Jeno leans in closer. “You’re mumbling.”

“I said, they caught him kissing Yangyang.” Chenle darts his eyes around nervously.

“Yangyang?” Mark echoes. The name sounds vaguely familiar, he remembers Renjun going on about one of his close friends from school. “But isn’t Yangyang a—”

“Boy,” Jeno finishes pitifully. “Woah, oh my God.”

It’s quiet after that. Mark so desperately wants to look up and see Jeno’s expression—was that an oh my God, how disgusting? Or an oh my God, poor Renjun? He never finds out. The atmosphere is suddenly awkward, everybody looking down at their own feet. Mark burns the marshmallow; he has to wipe it off the skewer and start another one.

Jisung creeps up beside him, blinking tiredly as Mark leads his group back to their cabin after evening worship. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“That kid you guys were talking about earlier, Ren—?”

“Renjun,” Mark says firmly.

“Yeah. His parents really sent him away just because he kissed a boy?”

Mark shrugs, though he doesn’t really want to talk about it. “I guess so.”

“Is that really so bad though?” Jisung asks sleepily. “I mean, why is it so bad?”

Later, Mark will look back on this moment, this whole summer, and recognize it as a crossroads. A time when he had the chance to see things as they really are, acknowledge the elephant in his brain that’s been taking up space for so many years.

Hindsight is 20/20. He knows Jisung looks up to him, has watched Jisung accept his every word as scripture since camp started, but Mark still makes the wrong decision, one that he’ll always regret, one that will set Jisung on a path of confusion for years to come. Until someone braver and smarter than Mark comes along to set things right again.

“It just is. Boys are supposed to kiss other girls. Adam and Eve, remember? Don’t get any ideas, though, you’re still too young to kiss anybody.” Mark swallows. Then he gives Jisung a playful little push on the shoulder, herds him into the cabin with the other kids. “Alright everyone, lights out in twenty!”

No one really brings up Renjun again, but it’s like his ghost is lingering around camp. Mark can see Renjun’s dark hair, plastered across his forehead when they play chicken in the lake. He can hear Renjun’s voice asking one of those questions that always stump their teachers during Bible study. The only thing he can’t do is go back in time, tell Jisung that it isn’t so bad, tell Renjun that he’s the bravest friend Mark’s ever had, tell Jeno that—

No. That train of thought’s too dangerous. The rest of the summer melts away like ice cream left out in the sun. Mark turns sixteen the day before the camp session ends. They go back to their small town like they always do. Mark doesn’t see Renjun again for a very long time.

Mark gets his license a month into the new school year and since Jeno’s still too young to drive, his parents buy Jaehyun’s old Jeep off the Jeongs at a discounted price.

It’s weird driving Jaehyun’s old car, which still sort of smells like his cologne, amber and bergamot. Even sitting in there when Jaehyun’s not is weird, period. Mark always used to get fidgety when Jaehyun left them in the backseat to go pump gas or something.

Even though Jaehyun’s off at school, between the car and Jaehyun’s general…Jaehyuness, Mark feels like he never really left. The kids at their school still ask about Jeno’s cool older brother every single day, which is as annoying as it is useful for getting them invited to parties. When Mark goes over for dinner, Jeno’s parents gush about how well Jaehyun’s doing at college—he’s made the dean’s list, joined the Christian student association, become fast friends with his roommate, Doyoung.

At Mark’s own house, his parents mention Jaehyun a lot, too. Why can’t Mark be more involved around church, like Jaehyun was? Why did Mark still spend most of his basketball games on the bench, hadn’t Jaehyun been a starter by the time he was a junior? When was Mark going to get over his shyness and try for a choir solo, doesn’t he remember how angelic Jaehyun had sounded at Easter service last year? Jaehyun’s Korean is so good—

“Mom,” Mark interrupts. “He literally grew up in Korea.”

Mark’s mom just tuts at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to school? You’re gonna be late. And bring a jacket!”

Mark shovels down the rest of his cereal and heads out to his car, even though he’s actually ten minutes early. He parks outside Jeno’s house, fiddling with the aux while he waits for Jeno to come out. When Jeno swings his way into the Jeep, he’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt that's tight around his upper arms.

“Dude,” Mark says, fully aware that he’s quoting his mom. “No coat?”

Jeno gives him a funny look. “It’s gonna be seventy degrees later.”

“Yeah, but—” Mark isn’t sure what, actually. “Forget it, let’s go.”

That’s the other weird thing that’s happened since getting back from camp. Jeno gets handsome. Or at least, that’s the word Mark’s mom used.

Jeno’s never been into sports much but that September he starts lifting weights with Jaemin and bulking up. He’s like, twice Mark’s size these days, which is making Mark feel half inadequate, half something else he doesn’t really want to examine. According to all the girls at school, Jeno’s typical goofy smile has gone from super cute to really attractive. He’s still painfully awkward but even that’s become endearing. He never completely loses his Korean accent, even though Jaehyun has and they’ve been fluent in English for a decade. You have to really be listening to hear it, but Mark hears it. Mark’s always listening to Jeno.

A few weeks before the school year ends, Jeno starts talking about how his parents are looking into buying a new car for him, something he can share with Jaehyun when he comes home for the summer.

At home, Mark’s parents are on his ass about finalizing his list of colleges.

His mom is the one to bring it up. “You know, you’d look a lot better to colleges if you could supplement your application with the Korean SAT Subject Test.”

Mark frowns. He knows about as much Korean as he’ll ever need. Jeno had taught him all the swears and dirty words like years ago. “Mom. Even Jeno’s not taking that.”

“Jeno didn’t get a B in statistics last semester,” Mark’s mom reminds. As she had every single day since last semester. “Plus, you know enough that it shouldn’t be that hard to sharpen your reading comprehension in time for the exam. I’m thinking maybe just a month or two of tutoring?”

“Tutoring?” Mark repeats wearily.

“Mrs. Jeong was saying how Jaehyun could use some extra cash while he’s home for the summer.”

That’s how they get here, Mark stalling outside of Jaehyun’s bedroom after wasting more time than is appropriate in the kitchen talking to Jaehyun’s dad about tax exemptions. He’s got a textbook in one hand and he uses the other to knock.

“Hey, Yoon—I mean, Jaehyun?” He doesn’t think Jaehyun notices. He hopes Jaehyun doesn’t notice.

Jaehyun opens the door and gives Mark a little bro hug, gesturing for Mark to take a seat at the desk. “Man, you still call me that?” Jaehyun asks. “No one’s called me that in years.”

Mark’s ears heats up. “Dude, it was a slip of the tongue.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to call me hyung, you know. If you really wanna sound natural in Korean.”

Mark's entire face heats up. There’s no way he’s doing that. “Um, my mom ordered this practice book online?”

Jaehyun perches on the edge of the bed and looks over the practice exams while Mark catalogs the bedroom. He hasn’t been in Jaehyun’s room since they were kids and Jaehyun still had a four-poster twin bed. The walls are still a familiar navy blue, but he doesn’t recognize anything else. There’s a new full bed, a shiny macbook on the desk, some dumbbells in the corner. Pictures on the wall. One of Jaehyun and a guy who must be his roommate Doyoung at a campus club fair. Jaehyun and Jeno with their grandparents in Korea. Jaehyun and Natalie at prom.

“Hey,” Jaehyun says suddenly. “I heard you bought the old Jeep. How’s it treating you?”

Mark grins. “I’ve only had to call roadside assistance like, twice. This month.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Well, I’m glad it’s in good hands.”

It’s such a tiny thing, the implication that good somehow equals Mark, but he likes it all the same. The lesson flies by. Mark had forgotten how easy Jaehyun was to talk to. You had to ignore how handsome he was to be able to get through a conversation, sure, but once you did—smooth sailing. He’s oddly patient, too, leading Mark through verb conjugations and explaining the differences between polite and informal speech. The hour passes so quickly that Mark doesn’t remember to feel awkward again.

It’s easy after that. Mark meets up with Jaehyun every Monday and Wednesday evening in June—on the third Wednesday of the month, they even go out and have their lesson at a local cafe to make room for Mrs. Jeong’s book club. It’s nothing particularly spectacular. Mark’s Korean is improving marginally, but it has more to do with him being a quick learner when he actually applies himself than any magical flair for teaching on Jaehyun’s part. Still, Mark looks forward to their lessons more than anything else that month.

They head up to Camp Faith in July like always, the only difference is that this year they drive themselves, Mark and Jeno switching out of the driver’s seat every hour and a half until they arrive. They take turns controlling the aux, too, and it’s a nice drive, munching on the lunches their moms packed, trading snacks like they used to back in elementary school.

They leave at the crack of dawn and arrive just after sunset. Jeno falls asleep about thirty minutes before they get there, and Mark can’t help but keep sneaking looks at his face in the soft orange light as he slumps against the window. Jeno’s a pretty open book, has never had an emotion you can’t see in his eyes, but in sleep, there’s something pure about him. Vulnerable. It reminds Mark of when they first met, Jeno holding up six little fingers and not meeting his eyes. Mark focuses back on the road.

When they get to camp they’re assigned two cabins directly next to each other. Mark wasn’t expecting them but after doing a little bit of peeking around the other cabins, he accepts the fact that both Renjun and Chenle won’t be around this summer. Jisung doesn’t show up again, either.

No one mentions it. They’re senior counselors now, and between shepherding their cabins from camp chores to worship sessions to group activities, there’s barely time to talk about anything at all. Mark feels like he’s watching Jeno from afar all summer, even when they’re standing elbow to elbow lifeguarding, or leading an arts and crafts session in the mess hall.

The day before Mark’s seventeenth birthday—and the last morning of camp—they sneak off into the woods to sit at the lake like they used to as kids, except there are no senior counselors to catch them and scold anymore.

“Isn’t it weird?” Jeno asks. “That it’s really our last summer here?”

“Hey, technically you’re still young enough to come one more time,” Mark points out. They’re only in the same grade because Jeno’s mom had thrown a fit about respecting the Korean educational system when Jeno started at Mark’s elementary school.

Jeno’s voice is weirdly earnest. “I’d never come here without you.”

“Oh,” Mark says. It’s an obvious thing to say, they’ve come together every year, but it feels weird to hear it aloud.

Jeno smiles and kicks at some water with his foot. “Remember one year you convinced me that the Loch Ness monster was gonna bite off my toes if I dipped both feet in at once?”

Mark smiles, too. “You believed it, too! God, I felt so bad.”

“Yeah, cause I got so scared I cried.”

“And peed,” Mark adds. He’s laughing, now.

“Did not,” Jeno quips.

“You totally did. I had to go get Jaehyun to come carry you back but then you started crying harder because I left you alone in the dark.” Mark wipes a tear from one eye. “Man, that was a good summer.”

“Whatever,” Jeno mutters, but he’s laughing, too. “I was eleven that year, I think? It’s crazy, I thought so much would have changed by the time we were old enough to be counselors, but it’s the same, really.”

Mark toes at a pebble with his sneaker. “What do you mean?”

Jeno shrugs. It’s hard to tell in the dim moonlight, but his face seems flushed. “Just, we used to talk about how we would’ve been on our fifth or sixth girlfriends by the time we got to senior year. I haven’t even kissed one girl.”

Mark has never really wanted to kiss a girl in his life. He doesn’t know what it’s like for Jeno because as close as they are, they don’t really talk about that stuff. “Dude, not for lack of trying. Last year in chem the girls were drawing straws for who got to be your lab partner.”

Jeno laughs self-consciously. “Yeah, but they never actually talk to me.”

“I think they want you to talk to them.” This line of conversation is annoying Mark, for some reason. He toes at another pebble, this time kicking it into the lake.

“You know I’m too shy for that,” Jeno reminds, and he sounds genuinely put out about it. Sad in that way that makes Mark remember his mom’s voice, all those years ago. Take the reigns. “I don’t know, I just wish there was some way I could get it over with without actually having to ask some random girl from chem out. I hate going out.”

“You do hate going out,” Mark agrees. He’s not sure what else to say. There’s an idea brewing in his head, one that’s been forming since the minute Jeno said the word kiss, or maybe even earlier than that, since the car ride up here, Jeno’s mouth soft and slack as he dozed in the passenger seat of Mark’s Jeep. Jaehyun’s Jeep. But there’s no way that Jeno would agree to it, not in a million years, not if pigs flied, not if—

Jeno brings it up first. “You’ve never kissed anyone either, right?”

Mark swallows. “Right.”

“So, what if we tried?”

“Tried? You mean—we should—together—?” Mark splutters, even though he’d known it was coming. Had thought of suggesting it himself.

“Forget it,” Jeno says quickly. “That was stupid. I don’t know why I said that. Sorry.”

“Wait, no.” It’s still impossible to make out Jeno’s expression in the dark, but Mark’s heart is twisting at the tone of his voice, panicked and mortified; the last thing Mark wants to do is make Jeno sound like that. “I mean, why not? It’s not like it means anything. I mean, haha, we’re bros. Plus, you’re right, if we got it over with now, maybe we’d be less nervous about doing it in real life. You know, with girls.”

“I guess,” Jeno says. He still sounds mortified. And afraid, oh so afraid. All at once, Mark thinks of Johnny, back held straight as he told their parents I’m bisexual, of Jisung, clinging to his shoulder to ask, is it really so bad?, of Renjun, at his grandparents' house in Jilin, all scared and alone. And suddenly, Mark doesn’t want to think anymore.

He leans forward and kisses his best friend.

Or, tries to. He misses the first time and is met with a mouthful of Jeno’s strong jaw. There’s a brief second where Jeno gasps—Mark’s so close he can feel the intake of breath against his nose—then they’re realigning, finding each other’s lips in the dark. It’s barely a kiss. Maybe not even a peck. It’s just their lips touching for one, two, three seconds, long enough to discover that Jeno tastes like the smores they’d had after evening worship, but not long enough for Mark to remember to close his eyes.

They separate like they’d been shocked.

“Jeno,” Mark whispers.

It’s like the sound of his own name rouses Jeno from paralysis. He flinches, leaps into action, splashing lake water onto Mark’s shins as he scrambles to stand up.

“Don’t,” Jeno spits, and it’s the harshest tone Mark has ever heard from him. He didn’t even know Jeno could sound like that.

“Never do that again,” he adds and Mark hears him, he does, but mostly he hears Never step foot in this house again!

Never, never, never. On repeat. Mark finally closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, they’re wet. Jeno’s long gone. Mark only has a minute to be thankful for the fact that the lake won’t be open for swimming tomorrow; then he leans over to throw up into it.

They don’t talk much on the way home. An alarm goes off every hour and a half for them to switch seats. They pull over and do it in silence each time.

“Where’s Jeno?” Mark’s mom asks when he gets home, dropping his duffel bag in the middle of the doorway. It’s the kind of thing she’d scold him for, usually, but she seems to get that he’s not in the mood.

“Dropped him off at home,” Mark says curtly.

“What? Why? I bought cake, your favorite. I thought he’d come over to cut it with you like you guys do every year.”

Mark shrugs. “He was tired.”

“See, I knew you guys shouldn’t have driven all that way alone—”

“I’m actually pretty beat, too. Can we do cake tomorrow or something?”

They never cut the cake. Mark runs out of excuses for why Jeno won’t come over, and eventually, his mom gives up and brings the cake for the Sunday school kids to have after service so it doesn’t go to waste.

Jeno’s there, on Sunday. Sitting in between Jaehyun and his dad a couple pews away like always. He doesn’t look at Mark, so Mark trains his eyes to God, instead.

Dear Lord, he prays when his dad motions for them to bow their heads, Don’t let worldly temptations keep me from your heavenly kingdom. Protect me from perversion, sin, and unholy lifestyles. Protect Jeno, too. Amen.

Mark’s napping the next evening when his mom bangs on his door, opening it anyway when she doesn’t get a response. “It’s six. What do you think you’re doing?”

Mark yawns. “Napping?”

“You think we’re paying Jaehyun for you to be at home sleeping?”

“I—what—Jaehyun?” Marks mouth is all dry. He’d forgotten about their Korean lessons, figured they’d call it quits because of camp.

“Get dressed and get over there,” Mark’s mom orders. She slams the door behind her.

Mark can’t think of a good enough explanation to not do so. The drive to the Jeong house is five minutes long, familiar, but he spends another five minutes twiddling his thumbs in the driveway. Jeno’s new car isn’t in the lot but that could mean anything. After another five minutes, he shuts off the car and rings the doorbell.

It’s Jaehyun that answers, looking sleep-soft in a pair of sweats and college t-shirt. His hair is flat on one side like he’d been napping, too. “Mark, hey. Figured you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry,” Mark says. “I, uh, didn’t know my mom was paying you for the whole summer. You know, since we had to stop for camp and all…”

Jaehyun reaches past him to shut the door. He’s moving slowly, like he’s still half asleep. His arm brushes Mark’s ear as he turns the lock and Mark almost jumps a foot in the air. Jaehyun smells a bit of sweat and sleep and like that light scent of bergamot that never really left the Jeep. “How was that, anyway? Jeno’s been acting all weird since you guys got back.”

“He has?” Mark squeaks.

“A little. But I guess he’s always a little weird, so.” Jaehyun gestures for them to go up to his room.

They pass Mrs. Jeong in the kitchen chopping up cabbage. She asks Mark how he’s doing in Korean and Mark blunders the simple I’m fine and you? so badly that it’s embarrassing. Jaehyun didn’t even teach him that one, he’s known it since preschool.

“Damn, maybe we should’ve done FaceTime lessons or something while you were upstate," Jaehyun laughs. "How are you getting worse?”

The thought of FaceTiming with Jaehyun makes Mark feel like he’ll lose the last thread of sanity he's been so desperately holding onto since returning from Camp Faith.

Their lesson goes by without much fanfare. Mark drives home after without bumping into Jeno once, even after he gets bullied into taking some banchan to his parents from Mrs. Jeong. Mark returns that Wednesday, too. Still no Jeno. It occurs to Mark that Jeno’s avoiding home on purpose. He wonders where Jeno even goes. He hates going out and Mark’s never seen him say more than two sentences at a time to anyone at school.

The next Monday, just as he’s about to get in his car and head over, he gets a text from Jeno.

Wanna play fifa after your tutoring thingy is over?

Make texts back, sure.

Sure enough, when Mark exits Jaehyun’s room later that evening the door to Jeno’s room is propped open. Jeno’s lying on the floor on his belly fiddling with his Playstation controller.

“Hey,” Mark says.

Jeno looks up. “Hey.”

And that’s that. They play Fifa. They head down to eat dinner with Jeno’s parents and Jaehyun when his mom shouts for them. They don’t talk about what happened out at the lake for a very long time.

They do talk around it, though.

Two weeks later there’s a party at Natalie’s house to celebrate the end of the summer. Well, technically it’s being hosted by Natalie’s younger sister, Emma, who’s in the same grade as Jeno and Mark. Since their parents are out of town, Natalie’s hanging around to chaperone and naturally, Jaehyun comes, too.

He even offers to be their designated driver, which is silly, because neither Mark or Jeno have drunk since that one time freshman year. But they take the ride anyway, and it’s kind of like old times, giggling with each other in the back seat while some 80s playlist of Jaehyun’s croons softly over the speakers.

Except Jeno leans over with an unusually serious glint in his eye and tells Mark that he wants to try and, “Get my first kiss tonight. Before the school year starts and we gotta ask people out to prom.”

“Oh,” Mark says. “Awesome. You got this.”

First kiss, Jeno said. Mark stares out the window and watches the familiar houses and neighborhoods fly by, the streets he could traverse with his eyes closed.

“Woah, look how grown up you guys got. Jay, why didn’t you say they got cute?” Natalie accuses when she opens the front door. She’s still as pretty as ever, long hair and a slender, chiseled face. “I bet the girls at school are tripping over themselves to fight over you two.”

Mark and Jeno glance at each other, then away.

Jaehyun leans in to kiss Natalie on her glossy pink lips. When he pulls back his lips are shiny, too. “Leave them alone, Nat. Yo, just text when you guys wanna leave.”

Then they’re gone, disappearing up the stairs like a couple straight out of a magazine. To go have sex, presumably, Mark thinks, and then suddenly he’s turning to Jeno and saying— “Dude, maybe we should drink a little.”

What they don’t tell you about religious kids is that when it comes to drinking, drugs, or sex, they’re just as bad as their secular counterparts—maybe even worse. Maybe it’s all the repression. It helps that their town isn’t completely Christian. Most families go to church, but there’s a decent amount of families, like Jaemin’s, that don’t go at all, even on major holidays. There’s some popular trap song playing over the speakers, the type of music that Mark likes but feels weird about listening to, even privately with his airpods in. More kids filter in and a keg comes out. Mark and Jeno both fill their respective solo cups and sip awkwardly, sitting on the steps. He thinks there are some kids smoking weed from a pipe out on the porch.

At some point, Jaemin arrives and holds up a joint. “Hey losers. Wanna go to the roof?”

“Sure,” Jeno says, at the same time that Mark goes, “We don’t smoke.”

They glance at each other. Then away.

“Oookay.” Jaemin raises his eyebrows. “God, you Mormon kids are so weird.”

“We’re not Mormon,” Mark snaps. He doesn’t know why he dislikes Jaemin so much, except that he kind of reminds Mark of Renjun, loud, opinionated, not afraid to speak his own mind and too strong-willed to get peer pressured into following the status quo. Except it’s all wrong, Renjun never looked at Jeno like he wanted to eat him. To Jeno, he says, “You go. I’m gonna, uh, get another drink.”

His cup's still half full, beer sloshing around as Mark moves to let Jeno and Jaemin walk up the steps. He wonders what they even talk about together; because it’s true, Jeno doesn’t smoke. He’s been mildly asthmatic since first grade.

“Hey, you,” someone else says, and Mark looks up to see Emma. It’s crazy how much she looks like a smaller version of Natalie, except Emma still has blonde hair and Natalie dyed hers brunette years ago.

“Me?” Mark says, because Emma’s looking at him like…that, eyelashes batting all prettily, soft and nervous smile on her face.

“Duh,” and she giggles lightly. “Do you hate my party, or something? Why are you pouting in the corner?”

“What? No? The party’s sick.” Mark scratches his neck. “I’m not pouting.”

“You are. Hey, if you’re so bored, we can go up to my room? I’m keeping the hard stuff up there so these idiots don’t drink it all. I have Pink Whitney.”

Mark has no idea what that is, but he hopes it’s not a drink. And he’s almost positive now that Emma is flirting, which makes him feel weird, because he’s pretty sure they only got invited because Emma has a crush on Jeno. But also it feels like one of those offers that he can’t really refuse, lest every single person in their grade hear about it by the first day of school. Jeno’s right to be worried about them being behind when it comes to girls. People start to talk. Tease. Taunt.

So he follows Emma up to her room. There’s a sparkly purple E over her door, which is directly across from one that has an N on it. That must be where Jaehyun is. Mark wonders where Jeno is. Emma closes the door behind them.

He’s not sure how it happens. He feels like he’s watching from outside of his body as he crosses the threshold to sit at the edge of Emma’s bed, accepts the solo cup of pink liquid that’s warm and thicker than any alcohol should have the right to be. He pretends to take a sip when she does, and then she’s setting both their cups on her nightstand, and leaning in to kiss him.

Mark kisses her back. She tastes like the alcohol he hadn’t drunk and coconut lip balm. It’s not bad, in fact Mark actually thinks it’d be nice, if it wasn’t for the voice in his head screaming wrong wrong wrong, the knowledge that Jaehyun is next door, the lack of knowledge about where Jeno is.

Emma’s pushing him to lie back on the soft bed, her hair falling around their faces like a curtain. That smells like coconuts, too. Then she’s on his lap, grinding against Mark’s crotch. It feels okay, but not in a way that gets him hard. The bass from the speaker is muffled but still audible, not loud enough to disguise her little grunts of effort. “Do you get whiskey dick or something?”

“What?” Mark’s flushing down to his toes. “I barely drank.”

She sits up to stare at him. Mark’s relieved to have a break from the kissing. His jaw aches and the spit on his lips has begun to grow cold, vaguely gross. “Let’s—”

She tugs her shirt of to reveal a lacy blue bra. Her boobs are perky and pretty small, nothing like Natalie’s, though Mark’s not sure why he’s thinking about Natalie, which makes him think about Jaehyun again. Mark rises up on his elbows to tug off his own shirt. Another relief—he was burning up.

Natalie reaches for his belt, unbuckles it, unzips his jeans, and just…pulls his dick out. It’s warm and soft in her hand, which is also warm and soft. She starts stroking up and down it and finally Mark can tell that she’s never done this before, either, from the way she’s looking anywhere but between them, fingers shaking nervously around his length. Which is still soft.

“Come on,” she mutters, but her frustration is just making things worse, and Mark knows it’s already over. There’s no way he’s going to get hard now. “Do you not find me attractive or something?”

“Of course I d—” Mark starts to lie, but he’s interrupted by the sound of someone banging on the door.

“Em, what the fuck, one of your stupid friends is spazzing out in the living room from an edible and if she throws up on Mom’s antique rug I’m so not covering for you—”

“Shit.” Emma pales. She lets go of Mark’s dick, it falls limply onto his thigh. There are tears welling in the corner of her eyes. She seems panicked, not the perpetually chill Emma she is at school, cool younger sister of the Natalie Jacobs. For the first time, it occurs to Mark that he might not be the only one with something to prove.

Mark is feeling a little teary, too. He tries to comfort her. “I’m sorry, it’s not you—”

“What else would it be?” She snaps, even though he’s never known her to be particularly mean before. “If you tell anybody about this…”

“I won’t,” Mark promises. It’s one of the first things he’s said tonight that he actually means. “Trust me.”

She doesn’t look at him again as she shrugs her top back on. Mark puts his dick away just as she yanks open the door. Natalie’s behind it, mid-knock, hand still raised in the air. Jaehyun’s behind her like a shadow. Music floods back into the room. “Did you not hear me say someone’s about to puke on Mom’s—are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Mark’s mortified. He can only hear the tail end of their conversation as the sisters disappear into the hall. “—thinks I’m repulsive,” Emma is sniffling.

Mark’s still on the bed, belt unbuckled, shirt somewhere on the floor. He’s crying, way more than Emma was, pitiful little sobs wracking his chest. He isn’t sure when he started or why. Jaehyun peeks around the door to look at him. Mark doesn’t offer any explanation but for a brief second it feels like everything in Mark’s heart is laid bare, like his chest is made of glass and Jaehyun is looking right through it.

Mark feels like he has to says something, anything, set the record straight somehow. “I—”

“You're okay,” Jaehyun says. It’s the softest voice ever. A fresh set of tears springs to Mark’s eyes. “There’s a bathroom down the hall. Clean yourself up and I’ll take you home.”

“Okay,” Mark whispers.

Jaehyun nods once.

In the bathroom, Mark rinses his face and pats it dry with paper towels and does his best to avoid his reflection in the mirror. As promised, Jaehyun is waiting in the parking lot, car on. For his part, he doesn’t say anything about what happened inside when Mark tugs open the door.

Jeno’s already in the passenger seat, smiling goofily about something. “Got my kiss,” is all he says, though he doesn’t offer up anything else and Mark’s in no mood to ask.

“Good for you,” Mark mutters. He leans his head against the window. It feels like Jaehyun is trying to meet his eyes in the mirror the whole drive, but Mark’s too scared to look. So he doesn’t.

Mark has them drop him off at home even though he usually sleeps over with Jeno after parties.

“Mark?” His dad calls as Mark trudges up the stairs. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Mark mumbles, knowing full well his parents won’t hear it through their closed door. He goes into his room and lies on the bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes. His head is pounding with voices that aren’t even his.

His father’s, during church service this morning. He’d read from the gospel of Mark, the one he was named after. Verse twenty-one. For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery…

Emma’s, tonight. Repulsive.

His mother’s, a decade ago. Disgusting.

Jeno’s, that summer. Never do that again.

(That’s my hyung, Yoonoh.)

Mark doesn’t get more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. There’s something wrong with him, there must be, tonight was just the proof. The same thing that was wrong with Renjun, the same thing that had been wrong with Johnny. Maybe it's genetic.

Jisung’s voice. Is that really so bad?

(It isn’t. It isn’t.)

It is.

Instead of sleeping, Mark bows his head. Dear Lord, he prays. Protect me.

Mark hears his parents get up in the morning and go to work. Right, it’s a normal Monday morning. His mom calls for him to wake up and eat breakfast but he doesn’t move. It feels like no time at all passes before she’s knocking on the door again. She busts inside when Mark doesn’t answer. “Your father should’ve taken you to help out today if you were just gonna lie around all day and waste your life away.”

“I’m sick,” Mark mumbles into his pillow.

His mom yanks his head up with force but the palm she presses to his forehead is gentle. “You’re not sick, you’re moping,” she decides. “Are you going to tell me why?”

“I’m sick,” Mark insists again.

She lets his head fall back to the pillow unceremoniously. “Get up and go for your language lesson. It’s the last one.”

Mark groans. “Do I have to?”

“Now.” She slams the door behind her.

Someone has left the door open for Mark at the Jeong household. There’s no other cars in the driveway, not even the one that Jeno and Jaehyun share, nor does Jeno answer any of Mark’s panicked texts:

hey

u home?

Mark Lee emphasized a message.

DUDE???

Mark Lee questioned a message.

It’s an unnaturally hot day, even for the end of August. Sweat beads at Mark’s temple. He shuts the front door when he gets inside; the AC is leaking right out.

“Mrs. Jeong?” Mark calls. “Jaehyun?”

“In my room!”

Mark takes his time going up. It’s even hotter upstairs, like the AC isn’t on at all. Jaehyun’s door is also open. He’s sitting on his bed over the covers like normal, scrolling on his phone. He barely looks up when Mark walks into the room. And Mark doesn’t know if it’s the domesticity of the scene, or the heat, or the ugly mess of a thing that’s been churning in his stomach since last night. Or maybe always.

But he blurts out, “There’s something wrong with me.”

(There isn’t. There isn’t.)

Jaehyun’s still looking at his phone. “It’s normal to have wayward thoughts, Mark. Everybody does.”

So he does know. Or suspects.

“I think this is more than just…wayward thoughts.”

Jaehyun finally puts his phone down. When he looks up at Mark, there’s something there, in his expression. Something Mark recognizes.

“Hyung?” He doesn’t know why he switches into Korean. Just that it feels safe there, familiar. Like their little secret.

“Come here,” Jaehyun says, also in Korean. Ili oseyo. “Sit.”

Mark goes, he does, doesn’t Jaehyun know by now that Mark would do anything he asked? It’s so obvious, and suddenly the fact of it, lingering plainly between them, makes a bundle of nerves settle at Mark’s nape.

When Mark sits at the edge of the bed, Jaehyun reaches forward to caress him, there, exactly, where his hair is short and spiky.

“Hyung.” Even the one quick syllable comes out shaky.

“Mark-ah,” Jaehyun responds. He swings his legs around until his thigh, warm and strong and covered in downy brown hairs, touches Mark’s. Even though no one’s home, Mark is hyper aware of the fact that the bedroom door is still open. He wants to ask Jaehyun to close it, but then Jaehyun places one large palm on Mark’s knee and Mark can’t think of the words in Korean or English.

“What about…” Mark can’t say her name. “Your girlfriend?”

Jaehyun laughs. It’s a dark little thing. “Don’t worry about her. This isn’t like that. I’m just helping out my little brother’s friend.”

His hand moves further up Mark’s thigh, towards the seam of Mark’s shorts, a steady pressure. For a long moment, he doesn’t go higher, just rubs small circles into the smoothest part of Mark’s thigh. He’s so hard it’s painful, has been since he entered the room and Jaehyun wouldn’t look at him. Mark screws his eyes shut. He can’t look.

“Hyung,” he repeats, but it’s barely more than a breath of air.

“Sometimes,” Jaehyun murmurs. “You just need to get it out of your system.”

He ghosts his hand over where Mark’s tenting in shorts, not even touching. Mark gasps at the hint of warmth, his thighs snapping together, then comes with a shudder, just like that.

It’s silent, after. Mark feels gooey, boneless, too spacey to be mortified about the fact that he—literally—blew it. He cleans himself off in the bathroom, ducking into Jeno’s room to borrow a new pair of shorts because Jaehyun never offered.

When he jerks off alone at home in the dead of night when he’s sure his parents are asleep, it usually takes him a while to finish. In fact, more often than not it takes him a while to get hard in general, like with Emma the night before. Performance anxiety, even when there’s no one to perform for.

He didn’t feel like he had to perform for Jaehyun. He’s never felt like he had to be anything other than himself with him. It was that, he thinks, that got him there so quickly—the impossibility of the situation, the thought that Jaehyun would ever want to touch Mark like that. Never in his wildest dreams would Mark have dared to wish for that.

For the first time in longer than he can remember Mark feels light, fearless. There’d been a balloon of trepidation swelling in his chest since they’d gotten back from Camp Faith and finally it has begun to deflate. Jaehyun wants him.

“Hyung?” Mark calls when he gets back from the bathroom. He toes the door open. Jaehyun’s not on the bed, not in the room at all. “Hyu—”

Then he sees the note on the desk. It’s a little post-it, stuck to the top of the SAT prep book Mark’s mom had ordered online.

Had to run out for a second. There’s only one more practice test, I’m sure you can do it yourself. Have a good school year.

The balloon swells again, back to full in seconds. Maybe balloon is not the right word. It feels more like a pail of cement.

Chapter Text

Mark’s not sure why, but he takes the sticky note home with him. Maybe because it’s a reminder of an experience he’s not quite ready to forget yet. Maybe it’s Jaehyun’s handwriting, neat and uniform, the same red ink he uses to correct Mark’s practice tests. Or, maybe—have a good school year. Why write that if you don’t care? Or maybe it’s politeness; Jaehyun’s always been polite.

The next day, Mark hears from Jeno that Jaehyun has gone back to campus.

“Isn’t that early?”

Jeno shrugs. “He probably just wants to fuck Nat without our parents listening in.”

Mark doesn’t ask any questions after that. He does his best not to think about Jeno’s brother at all.

Senior year begins. There are other good things to come out of the lessons. Mark takes the SATs and gets a perfect score on the Korean language subject test. He does alright on the other sections, too, and his acceptance letter to New York University comes in the mail a few weeks before Christmas. Jeno’s waitlisted, but he gets into Columbia, which is objectively more of an accomplishment. To Mark’s chagrin, Jaemin gets into NYU, too, with an arts scholarship.

Mark’s parents are hesitant about sending him to the city, but they’re less worried when they hear that Jeno’s parents are doing it, too. Mark’s sort of surprised. He’d figured that Jeno would follow his hyung to UCONN.

“Nah, I’d rather stay with you,” Jeno explains after accepting his spot at Columbia. He blushes. “I mean, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Mark says, and he means it. If he had it his way, they’d be on the same campus.

Jaehyun comes home for Christmas, Easter. Mark only sees him in church, from the corner of one eye, as handsome and aloof as ever. When Mark goes over with his parents so they can make small chat with the Jeongs after service, Jaehyun just gives a polite smile like always, asks whether Mark has chosen a major yet. It’s almost like he doesn’t remember what happened. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Jaehyun has helped plenty of people get it out of their systems before. He’s nice like that, after all. Mark’s dad says he’d make a great youth pastor.

The school year is over before they can blink. They visit NYC with their parents and practice taking the subway between their two campuses. Jeno goes to prom with Emma. Mark takes some girl from choir who goes to school in the next town. Less people for her to gossip—about how he drops her off at home after the dance with nothing but a kiss to the cheek—with. Graduation comes and goes. No Camp Faith this year, so they screw around in town all summer, going to pool parties and shooting hoops at the park until nightfall. During the day Mark helps out his dad at the church, repainting the shutters or printing out tracks. He ropes Jeno in, too, more often than not. He collapses in bed every night, pleasantly tired, falling asleep instantly. It’s nice; he prefers it this way.

Mark’s freshman year roommate is an international student from Korea named Donghyuck Lee.

“But I’m rebranding to Haechan,” he announces as he tapes up a life-size poster of Michael Jackson above his bed. “It’s easier for you Americans to say. Easier for guys to moan, too.”

Oh, yeah, Donghyuck’s gay. And openly, not in that quiet secretive way a handful of kids from their high school were. He told Mark this information over the summer through Instagram DM, but he narrows his eyes when Mark arrives at their dorm and repeats it again in person. “You’re cool, with that, right?”

Mark can be so cool. “Sure, no problem.”

The Haechan thing never really catches on, but Donghyuck becomes one of the most popular kids on campus within a couple of weeks, anyway. When they take the subway uptown to meet Jeno, a handful of kids from the Columbia campus greet them by name. Mark becomes sort of popular-by-association, gains a hundred new followers on social media.

Donghyuck gets along with Jeno pretty well, something Mark didn’t even realize he was holding his breath over. It’s Jaemin that he butts heads with, not that Mark blames him. Except, Jaemin’s actually been pretty useful since starting school. He’s the most suited to New York out of all of them, handsome in a vaguely threatening way, artsy but not pretentious, just weird enough to be considered East-Village normal. It takes him about ten minutes to get them invited to every Brooklyn artist’s collective and underground DJ set in the city.

For Mark’s part, he spends the semester staying open to trying new things. He joins clubs, goes clubbing, finally gets the hang of drinking. He learns that everything they say about New York, good and bad, is true. It’s a place where anyone can be anything they want to and not have to worry about someone giving them a second glance for it. That scares Mark as much as it excites him.

The academic side of things is just as hectic. He’s not sure what he’s majoring in yet. His parents are not-so-subtly nudging him towards the premed track, and it doesn’t help that Jeno’s already looking at veterinary schools. He also makes plans to join the Christians on Campus club, but their meetings just so happen to fall on the evenings Mark has his favorite class, so he makes a note to attend next semester.

So far, the only class Mark’s really been interested in is Intro to Creative Writing. Each student gets to bring in one short story and a handful of poems to workshop with the class. Mark writes a little flash fiction piece about a summer at Camp Faith, the year Jaehyun was a senior counselor and would sneak Jeno and him extra marshmallows at the campfire. Almost everybody in the class corners him afterwards to compliment it. It makes Mark feel—really good.

He doesn’t have much time to think about things not immediately related to school.

In May, just before finals week, they decide to go to one last party. The four of them, they'd sort of become a friend group, when did that happen? But it almost feels natural.

It’s at the friend of a friend's luxury apartment in Williamsburg. Mark’s gotten more comfortable with partying, so he doesn’t mind as much when his friends go their separate ways after taking exactly one shot each of green apple Smirnoff together. He wanders up to the rooftop, chatting with a girl from his creative writing class. They’re deep into a conversation about whether or not it’s worth it to pursue the writing minor when Donghyuck texts him: CME OUTSIDE NOW!!!!

The elevator’s stalling, so Mark takes the steps two at a time, all the way from the tenth floor. When he busts open the front door into the cool spring night, his friends are a few feet away on the sidewalk, Jaemin petting Jeno’s head as he gets violently sick into the bushes.

Donghyuck narrates, looking only vaguely grossed out. “He won’t stop throwing up.”

Which is not completely abnormal for a college student after a night of green apple Smirnoff.

So Mark remains calm—he’s the oldest, after all. They buy a few water bottles from the deli and use them to hose Jeno off. Jaemin insists they keep one for him to drink if he feels up to it later, which Mark has to admit is a good idea. Mark’s a little tipsy himself; he’d had a beer or two with his classmate. Or three? Things are a bit fuzzy.

Still, he makes the executive decision for them to take Jeno home—to the NYU campus, not his own, because it’s closer to Brooklyn. It’s during the short subway ride that Mark starts to get worried. Jeno’s still not talking apart from an occasional moan of acknowledgement. His head lolls limply against the plastic seat, skin pale and clammy.

“What the hell did you give him?” Mark demands.

Jaemin winces. He’s cradling Jeno halfway in his lap even though he has no right to, that should be Mark’s job; Jeno’s Mark’s best friend. “We just had a couple more shots, it wasn’t a big d—”

“It was!” Mark snaps. “He threw up half his guts and now he can barely open his eyes.”

“Yo,” Donghyuck interrupts. “Mark, chill out, you’re not helping anyone.”

But Mark can’t chill out. Jeno’s deadweight passed out. It takes all three of them to half drag, half carry him up the subway steps and into Jaemin’s dorm, which is the closest to the station. They dump him on Jaemin’s bed as gently as they can.

“I think we should prop his head up,” Donghyuck is saying.

“Yeah, let’s—” Jaemin’s trying to force feed the bottle of water past Jeno’s slack lips.

Jaemin’s roommate, Jungwoo, throws a pillow over his head and mutters for them to shut the fuck up.

There’s blood roaring in Mark’s ears. All he can hear is his mother's voice: I expect you to take the reins, Mark. Okay?

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he calls Jaehyun.

It’s a two-hour long drive from Connecticut to New York. Jaehyun gets there in an hour and a half. Mark has to go downstairs and sign him in as a guest. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he babbles. “The student health center’s closed on weekends and if we went to the hospital your parents would freak…”

When they get back up to Jaemin’s room, Jeno’s still virtually unresponsive. Jaehyun takes a long look at Jeno, puts a hand on his forehead, another against his ribcage. And then sighs. “He’s fine.”

“Really?” Jaemin asks, before Mark can.

“Jesus Christ, have you guys really never seen anyone get blackout drunk before?”

“So, he’s gonna be okay?” Mark’s line again, delivered all wrong.

Jaehyun shakes his head in disbelief. “Yeah, just give him more water and something greasy to eat in the morning. Keep his head propped up.”

“Told you,” Donghuck mutters, but there’s clear relief on his face.

“Thank God,” Jaemin breathes. Any other time Mark would have taken the opportunity to comment on how ironic that is, except Jaemin is too busy burying his face into the crook of Jeno’s shoulder, which is crazy because Jeno definitely reeks of puke, Mark can smell it across the room.

Now that it’s right in front of him, Mark’s not sure how he missed it.

Jeno’s odd insistence on being friends with Jaemin since they were in grade school.

Jaemin taking the train up to Columbia every weekend, even more than Mark does.

Jeno going up to the roof with Jaemin and coming back with his first kiss.

Jeno and Jaemin. Jaemin and Jeno.

“Call me if he needs anything,” Mark mutters. Then he leaves the room.

He walks the ten minutes back to his own dorm, taking his time. When he gets inside he tosses his phone and student ID onto the desk and collapses in bed. His heart is beating wildly, a hundred memories playing through his head on a broken loop.

Disgusting.

Don’t. Never do that again.

Jeno and Jaemin.

Time passes, Mark’s not sure how much. He’s still rigid and awake in bed. He’s angry. He’s sad. He knows why and doesn’t at the same time. When the door eventually creaks open he’s expecting Donghyuck.

It’s not Donghyuck.

Mark doesn’t realize he’s been shaking until Jaehyun’s hand comes up to soothe his arm.

“You’re okay,” Jaehyun murmurs, which doesn’t make sense, because Jeno’s the one they should be worried about. “You’re okay, Mark.”

As if the night couldn’t get any weirder, Jaehyun lies down beside him. They barely fit in his twin XL, Mark barely fits in it alone. But somehow it works, the backs of Mark's knees coming up against Jaehyun’s legs, Jaehyun’s chest pressed into his spine. He doesn’t stop caressing Mark’s arm.

Mark has a hundred questions. Did you know about Jeno? Is that how you guessed about me? How did you get into my dorm without an ID—?

But Jaehyun just keeps repeating, you’re okay, you’re okay, and Mark, despite himself, gets lulled into a gentle sleep.

In the morning they give Jeno lots of water and order McDonald’s breakfast via Ubereats. He throws up one more time but Jaehyun was right. He’s fucking fine. More embarrassed than anything. Donghyuck won’t stop teasing him.

Jaehyun’s gone when Mark wakes up, Donghyuck lying in his bed across the room and snoring softly. Mark wants to ask if he caught Jaehyun in his room, but decides against it. Donghyuck’s the type who would have questioned Mark about it himself if he’d seen.

A week later they finish their finals, pack up their dorm rooms, and go back home.

It’s another weird summer; though maybe Mark should’ve predicted that.

Mark doesn’t tell Jeno what he knows, even though he’s kind of offended that Jeno thinks he can hide something so critical from him. How would he bring it up, anyway? Hey dude, I know you’re dating Jaemin and I just wanna say it’s wrong and you should repent.

Though that particular line of thinking is starting to feel rehearsed and off-kilter to Mark these days, especially after his year in the city.

It was so easy to chalk it up to wrong when it was Johnny, who Mark barely knew outside of his parent’s narrative of him. Or Renjun, who Mark only saw for a few weeks every summer.

It’s different that it’s Jeno, sweet, pure, innocent Jeno, the kindest guy in the entire world. The little kid who couldn’t pronounce his English l sounds. The middle schooler who believed that the Loch Ness monster lived in a lake in upstate New York. The college student who wants to be a vet because he likes helping others but is too shy to talk to strangers. Mark’s best friend.

Mark doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he gets a part time job delivering pizzas for a local restaurant in town, and uses the idle time between deliveries to chip away at a new short story. He tries not to stay home too much. Since returning from college, the house is starting to feel oddly small. When he’s home, his mom almost always wrangles him into helping out at church.

For the record, Mark loves church. The community, the songs, the idea of everybody being gathered together to bask in the love of the creator of love.

It’s not church that’s the problem. It’s not even the weird thoughts that have been bugging him lately, that Renjun-sounding voice in the back of his head. If God sees everything, why did he let slavery happen? Or cancer? Or—?

No, the problem is that Jaehyun chooses this summer to take Mark’s dad up on a long standing offer. He becomes a youth pastor.

Mark starts seeing him nearly every day. It’s weird, being on the other side of things, old enough to actually know this summer’s youth pastor. It’s hard to reconcile the Jaehyun who leads Bible study and takes a group of middle schoolers on educational field trips with the Jaehyun who knows what it looks like when someone’s blackout drunk, has premarital sex with Natalie, ghosts his hand over Mark’s shorts and tells him to get it out of his system.

For the first week or so, Jaehyun doesn’t talk to Mark at all outside of the expected pleasantries. Mark pretends to be okay with this. Then, one morning, Jaehyun tugs him into a dark, abandoned schoolroom towards the back of the church, claiming to need Mark’s help with something.

“Did you have a good school year?” Jaehyun asks, and it’s easy, so easy, for Mark to understand that he’s asking something else entirely.

Mark nods. Yes. For Jaehyun, it’s always yes.

Jaehyun crosses the room in three long strides and attaches his lips to Mark’s throat without another word. Mark had been expecting it this time but he still has to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from shaking. Jaehyun nips, sucks, licks at the skin until Mark’s a whining mess, then he slips his hand beneath the waistband of Mark’s shorts again.

It’s so similar to last time. It’s completely different. Mark’s not so scared anymore. He maintains enough tact to make note of Jaehyun’s smell, his warmth, the unused strength in his hand as he strokes Mark’s dick to full hardness. It’s still over quickly, but this time Mark remembers to focus on Jaehyun’s face when he pulls his hand away. It’s triumphant. Like he’s into this, somehow: Mark coming in his pants like the inexperienced virgin he is.

A few days later, Jaehyun pulls him into a broom closet and blows Mark until his eyes roll back. Again, not that this takes very long. After Mark gets to his knees, Jaehyun teaches him how to return the favor. Mark has never even touched Jaehyun there but it feels completely natural to take him into his mouth. The taste is entirely Jaehyun’s, salty and concentrated. When Jaehyun comes, Mark swallows it all. He likes that taste, too.

It—sneaking into back rooms and corners—becomes a near daily occurrence. Mark wants to feel more guilty about doing this at church but Jaehyun doesn’t seem to and if anyone’s right with the Lord, it’s Jaehyun Jeong. Mark learns that Jaehyun is fond of leaving marks on him, so vivid and in such obvious places that he has no choice but to purchase and learn how to use concealer. He never lets Mark leave any evidence on him. And they never kiss.

They still use Korean with each other during those moments; it’s their thing. Mark appreciates that. Outside of his parents when they were mad, or Donghyuck when he was being difficult, he barely speaks Korean with anyone else and so somehow Korean has become their language, the hyungs and juseyos and stiff SAT prep diction.

Somehow they make it through the whole summer without exchanging any real conversation with each other. They don’t only do sexual things; once in a while Jaehyun will ask him to shoot some hoops before Bible study. One time Jeno comes over and Mark’s dad makes them sort all the files in his office for an afternoon. Mark’s dad comments that he’s glad to see them spend so much time together; Jaehyun’s a perfect role model.

Mark feels bad about keeping it from Jeno but what is he supposed to say? Hey dude, I had your brother’s dick in my mouth but I know it’s wrong and I’m gonna repent.

Besides, Jeno has secrets of his own.

Overall the summer is nice, if a little nerve-wracking, and Mark wants to think that all of it—the held glances and secret smiles and subtle touches—will change something.

It doesn’t. They go back to school for sophomore year and it’s radio silence from Jaehyun, even after Mark texts him to have a good school year. Jaehyun doesn’t reply, or call. Though, Mark realizes, he’s never really done that before. They just sort of…fell in together.

They're allowed to choose their roommates this year but Mark opts to live with Donghyuck again. Hyuck pretends to be indifferent about it, agrees on one condition. (He tackles Mark into the ground and suffocates him with a pillow until Mark gives in and repeats that Donghyuck is the prettiest, coolest, smartest boy in the world.) It’s worth it, Donghyuck’s a good friend.

One of Mark’s professors tells him to submit a poem he wrote about the inherent melancholy of summer evenings to a student journal. It’s accepted. Mark decides to declare a minor in creative writing. He’s not able to join Christians on Campus, again. His professor says it’ll be good for his writing career if he takes an editor position at the student paper, so he does. The meetings coincide. He promises he’ll join next year.

At some point, Jeno mentions that Jaehyun’s studying abroad in Seoul this semester. There’s a picture in their family group chat of Natalie meeting their grandparents. Mark doesn’t care.

In November, he gets invited to an FIT party by one of the senior editors on the paper, Ten, who also doubles as a fashion major. Mark feels extremely underdressed when he arrives at the party, though he should have expected that.

Naturally, he ends up gravitating towards one of the less intimidating people in the room, a guy with his hair bleached ash-blonde. His name’s Yangyang. The name sounds kind of familiar but Mark can’t quite place it. Until he comments that his boyfriend Renjun is actually right in the next room and—

“Holy shit,” Mark says, standing up. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, just that he needs to get far, far away from here.

The voice behind him is so incredibly familiar. “Mark?”

“Renjun,” Mark breathes. “Holy shit.”

So that’s how he finds himself sitting on the fire escape of some random fashion student’s Bushwick apartment, sipping on a warm beer while Renjun rolls a cigarette. Mark’s trying not to stare. He’s probably doing a bad job.

“My cousins taught me how to last time I visited China.” Renjun smiles slightly; adds some tobacco to the rolling paper. “They’re healthier than packaged cigs.”

“How’s Chenle?” Mark wonders.

“Chenle?” Renjun smiles some more. “He’s in California living his international student best life right now.”

Mark’s surprised. “Cali? How’d he end up over there?”

“It’s where Jisung lives,” Renjun says plainly.

“Jisung? Woah. Oh, shit, cool. I didn’t realize they were such good friends.”

“Good friends,” Renjun snorts at that. “Huh. Yeah. Something like that.”

He offers Mark the cigarette once it’s rolled.

“Oh, nah, I don’t. Sorry.” He waits for Renjun to light it before he starts. “Look, I always wanted to say that I’m, uh, sorry about what happened. That year you stopped coming to camp? I wanted to text, but your number was blocked.”

“Oh yeah, my parents took my phone. They were so fucking dramatic that year.” Renjun laughs. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I don’t know.” Mark scratches the back of his neck. “I remember the campers would crack some pretty nasty jokes about uh, guys who like other guys back then. I guess I’m sorry I never did more to stop them? And sorry that I laughed, too.”

Renjun stares at him. “Mark, I laughed at that shit, too. Not saying it was okay, but what were we supposed to do? Dismantle several centuries of compulsory heterosexuality as twelve year olds at a Jesus camp? Why are you apologizing for that? I barely even remember that stuff.”

And when Renjun puts it like that, Mark sees how silly it seems. Mark had spent so much time thinking of that moment. They caught Renjun kissing a boy. He hadn’t stopped to consider the fact that Renjun probably wasn’t even thinking of him that summer at all.

He winces. “Guess I just felt bad.” Understatement. It’s been eating him alive.

“Don’t. I missed you guys that summer but honestly that camp fucking sucked. My parents are pretty chill about it now, too, I think they just weren’t sure how to react back then and panicked.” Renjun shrugs. “By the way, did Jeno follow your ass to this god forsaken city too?”

Renjun’s always been sharp. “Yeah, he’s up at Columbia.”

“Nice. If you guys want, we should all catch up sometime. Get drinks or something. I think Yangyang likes you.”

“I’d like that,'' Mark agrees. Another understatement.

In the spring, the Jeongs stop by campus to pick Jeno up for Jaehyun’s graduation ceremony. They say it's fine if Mark wants to tag along, too, they’re driving Jeno back later anyway. Mark declines, makes up some excuse about polishing up a last essay.

Mark actually spends the evening polishing off the crumbs from their small snack cabinet, figures he’s doing Donghyuck a favor, less stuff to pack when they move out.

He’s halfway through an episode of Our Beloved Summer—the kdramas help his Korean stay fresh—when he gets an Instagram DM from an unfamiliar account. Some skater looking dude, with long hair and a ton of followers. DJ account tagged in the bio. NYC as the location on most of the photos.

It takes Mark a minute to realize that the account belongs to his brother.

It seems unfair, that Mark’s whole life, Johnny has just been a short drive away. And just plain cruel, that for the past two years, he’s been a short walk away.

Mark meets him at a cafe a few blocks from campus the day before he’s supposed to return home to Connecticut for the summer.

The conversation flows easily. It feels like they never lost contact at all, which is only weird because Mark’s not sure he would have recognized Johnny if they bumped into each other on the street.

Johnny lets Mark fill him in on life up until now, only interjecting with minimal comments (“Woah, Camp Faith is still running?” or “Damn, go figure another Korean family would move to town as soon as I left.”)

In return, he tells Mark about his past several years in New York, couch hopping with internet friends until he made enough money working in retail to afford a shoebox room in a shoebox apartment. It’s only recently that his DJ career started to kick off, gain some traction.

“I’ve played a couple big clubs recently,” Johnny says, like it’s no big deal. “One Oak, Soho House.”

“Woah, that’s awesome,” Mark says earnestly. “I guess it kind of worked out for you in the end, huh.”

“What did?”

“You know, getting kicked out.”

“Kicked out?” Johnny snorts. “Man, I ran away.”

“You—wait—what?” Mark splutters. Because he still has his fathers voice rattling around his head. I don’t want to see you in this house ever again! Had he misunderstood every event in his childhood? “But—why?”

“It was fucking hard,” Johnny says, and for the first time that afternoon a damper falls over his expression. “Having to live up to the perfect preacher's kid label. I couldn’t handle it. Felt like I was gonna crawl out of my own skin sometimes. I guess that’s why I started acting out so much. Like, if I couldn’t be the perfect kid, I might as well be the exact opposite. I’m not like you.”

“Like me?” His own name never came to mind when he thought of perfect. That was a label better suited towards Jeno. Or Jaehyun.

“Yeah,” Johnny sighs. “Even back then, you were always a good son.”

Mark laughs. “Dude, I was seven.”

“Still,” Johnny insists. “Also, I may have stalked your Instagram a bit.”

Then they both laugh.

“Damn, I really thought they chased you off.”

“I mean, technically they did.” Johnny winces. “But Dad came out looking for me in the morning, a friend told me he drove up and down the whole state. And I had a hundred voicemails on my phone from Mom, begging me to come back and just talk about it.”

Mark doesn’t remember any of that. “Why didn’t you?”

“I guess I was tired of having to defend myself. Even at that age, I knew who I was. I always thought it was such a waste, to spend your whole life hiding away from who you were just because other people told you to. And for what?” Johnny shakes his head.

Johnny pays for their sandwiches and expensive bubble teas. After they eat they go outside and Johnny smokes a cigarette. Mark tries not to stare.

“It’s okay,” Johnny laughs. “You can. I’ve been staring at you too, you know. You grew up so much.”

Mark ducks his head, blushes. “I was a kid last time you saw me.”

Johnny shrugs. “Still, you did.”

He stubs out the cigarette on a railing, tosses the butt in a trash can.

“Can I see you again?” Mark wants to know. “When I come back to the city, I mean. For next semester.”

Johnny smiles. It’s a reassuring thing that takes Mark back to standing atop the stairs, listening as their parents argued. It’ll be alright. “Duh. Of course.”

Marks has been home from school for a month when he gets a text from Jaehyun.

A super casual, what’s up?

It makes Mark kind of want to rip out his hair. But he answers. Of course he does.

nm. u?

you didn’t come to my graduation, Jaehyun writes back. :(

Really? Was that why Jaehyun had been avoiding him like the plague all summer? Radio silence aside, Mark had sort of figured they’d fall back into last summer’s routine. But apparently Jaehyun wasn’t even youth pastoring this summer. He’d had to find out from his mom.

sorry, i had an assignment due. congratulations btw

thanks :)

They text a little that summer, in bits and pieces. He wants to ask Jaehyun something real, like what do you want from me? But he’s too scared to scare him away. This is the first time they’ve chatted normally since the language lessons. Mark learns that Jaehyun’s got an internship at some marketing firm this summer. In return, Mark tells Jaehyun about his own life. On August 2nd, Jaehyun texts him happy 21st birthday with a little gif of a cartoon kitten drinking a glass of whiskey. It’s friendly, no pressure or expectations. Sometimes it takes Jaehyun a whole week to reply.

It’s the first time in three years that it occurs to Mark that this is sort of a game for Jaehyun, that all the things that make it fun for Jaehyun are exactly what make it upsetting for Mark—not knowing when Jaehyun will text, if Jaehyun will look at him that day, if Jaehyun is really still just helping out his little brother’s friend or something else. It’s probably not something else.

Junior year. Mark gets dinner with Johnny the day he arrives in the city. They do a good job of making up for lost time. Johnny takes him around Manhattan, gets them reservations at high-scale places Mark wouldn’t even think to visit on his own. When they’re both busy with work and school, Johnny texts him regularly: links to playlists and Facebook memes (showing his age a bit,) or a simple how was class today? Mark finds he really likes having a hyung.

He still hasn’t told his parents about Johnny reaching out, but it’s a nonissue. It’s none of their business. Mark should be allowed to talk to his brother if he wants to.

He also takes Renjun up on his offer to hang out. It turns out he shares a small, but quaint apartment with Yangyang in the Lower East Side. The couple host Mark and Jeno for a chill wine night and it’s impressive how well they still get along after all this time. After that first evening, they invite Donghyuck and Jaemin, too. It turns out that Jaemin knows Renjun from some artist's collective already, and Donghyuck’s “never met a twink he didn’t like. Except for the ones I don’t like.” (His own words.) (Renjun had smacked him over the head for it, but Mark’s counting it as friendly playfulness.) They hang out all the time after that, and it’s good.

Mark didn’t know how many things his life had been missing until he did.

Early in December, Mark’s mom calls him to remind him to pack his nice coat and Lactaid tablets when he comes home for Christmas.

“And don’t forget that we’ll be going on that mission trip towards the end of your break, so make sure you arrange to get a ride with Jeno back to school. That is, if you’d still rather not come with us?”

“I’ll have grad school applications to work on,” Mark reminds her. Also, the thought of going on a mission trip makes him feel uncomfortable. He’s never had a problem with it before, when his parents used to drag him around the country as a kid. But now… “I don’t mind being alone for a few days.”

“If you say so. Oh!” She adds. “I almost hung up before telling you the good news. Jaehyun and Natalie are getting married!”

Mark can’t respond. He’s been so careful not to give his parents any reason to suspect, and yet, when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. His mouth feels dry and useless. He’s no longer on the phone with his mother. He’s sitting at a Sunday school desk asking Jeno who was that in the doorway? He’s walking into a bedroom and being told I’m glad it’s in good hands. He’s crying on a stranger’s bed and the softest voice in the world is saying I’ll take you home.

“High school sweethearts,” Mark gushes over the phone, not seeming to notice his silence. “Oh, isn’t it wonderful?”

What the fuck is Mark supposed to do, not go home for Christmas? It’s less that he doesn’t think he can avoid Jaehyun well enough for the few weeks of break and more like he doesn’t want to be in the same state as Jaehyun ever again. Doesn’t want to be on the same planet, even.

Thinking logically, he knows it’s stupid. Jaehyun and Natalie have been dating for seven years. It’s just—he’d hoped that—maybe. But that line of thinking is stupid, too.

Also, he’s surprised that Jeno didn’t break the news to him first.

“We were right in the middle of midterms when they told me.” Jeno shrugs.

They’re on the Metro North from Grand Central to New Haven. It hasn’t snowed yet this year but it’s so cold that there are little flakes of frost forming on the windows. Jeno’s tracing one through the glass with his fingertip.

“You forgot your only brother got engaged?” Mark knows he’s showing more frustration than the situation calls for. But he can’t stop himself.

Jeno shrugs again. He’s not facing Mark, focused on the New England woods outside. But there’s something weird in his voice, something knowledgeable, something that makes Mark wish he’d never asked. “It slipped my mind,” he says finally.

He’s lying. Jeno’s never been able to keep a secret from Mark in his life.

Christmas comes a few days after they arrive back home. Mark wears his nice coat and takes his lactaid pills and they go to the special church service. Mark’s dad preaches a nice sermon about forgiveness. “Do not judge,” he instructs the congregation, “and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

Natalie usually goes to another church in town but she's there, that Sunday, flashing a pretty diamond and sitting in the same pew as the Jeong family. Or maybe she’s just part of the Jeong family, now.

After the service Mark’s forced to go over and say hello. He has no choice but to offer the happy couple a stiff, “Congratulations.”

All he gets back from Jaehyun is a nod. As if it hadn’t killed Mark to force that greeting out. And Jeno’s giving Mark that look, again, the one Mark can’t stand.

He ends up spending most of the break alone. There’s no one to force him into church activities since his parents are too busy preparing for their trip. Jeno’s off pretending not to be hanging out with Jaemin every single day. Once in a while, Johnny will call to check on him, but Mark’s too nervous to talk to him around the house. He spends fourteen hours in bed a day. He wallows. He writes.

Three days before Mark’s set to return to the city, his parents leave for their mission trip. Mark drives them the three hours all the way to the airport and comes back alone. By the time he pulls the Jeep back into the driveway, it’s dusk. There’s another smaller car parked against the sidewalk. He gets out and locks the Jeep.

He doesn’t really have to look to know that it’s Jaehyun waiting for him on the porch steps but of course he does. It’s Jaehyun. Mark does more than look; he drinks him in.

“I’m surprised that old thing survived a whole trip to JFK,” Jaehyun comments. Lightly. Like the Jeep being shitty is their precious inside joke.

“Barely,” Mark says. He’s not really in the mood for joking around. “But I made it, so.”

“Yeah.” The lightness in Jaehyun’s voice has been replaced by an almost urgent seriousness. “You made it.”

Mark doesn’t exactly let Jaehyun into the house. He just leaves the door open behind him, sure that Jaehyun will follow, and he does. Maybe that was a bad decision. Mark’s supposed to be getting wiser with age. He’s not.

They fuck in Mark’s childhood bed, and it’s a spiritual experience if Mark’s ever had one. It almost makes Mark realize that he’s never really had one before.

They undress. Mark lays down without question; he’s always been good at obedience. There’s something in Jaehyun’s eyes as he crawls on top of Mark, hovering over him with his arms propped into the sheets. But Mark’s never been good enough at reading his expressions and he should know better than to think Jaehyun’s going to offer up any actual words.

Except for Mark’s little gasps, it’s quiet as Jaehyun mouths down his body, leaving red all across his collarbone, chest, hips. It’s not an uncomfortable silence; Mark’s too used to them for him to feel anything other than a muted anticipation. Want, want, want. Even now. Even after everything.

Jaehyun’s touching him impossibly gently, like Mark is something fragile. A tender hand at Mark’s nape, another hooked in the waistband of his boxers. Usually Mark would resent it but he feels that way tonight, small and breakable.

“Have you done this before?” Mark dares to ask. He keeps his voice quiet so as not to disturb their small bubble. He remembers to speak in Korean, too. “Gone the whole way?”

He knows he doesn’t have to add, with a man.

He’s surprised that Jaehyun answers. “Just once.”

“Oh.” Mark’s not sure how to feel about that. Who—? Not anyone in town, surely. Jaehyun was too careful for that. Perhaps someone from his college? Mark thinks of the Polaroid picture in Jaehyun’s room, his freshman year roommate Doyoung smiling widely.

Mark’s never been as good at hiding his emotions as Jaehyun is. Jaehyun seems to pick up on this; he kisses the inside of Mark’s thigh ever so gently.

“It wasn’t as good as it’ll be with you,” Jaehyun says simply.

“Oh,” Mark repeats.

He doesn’t know where to look as Jaehyun spreads his legs and scissors his fingers inside Mark with some lotion from the nightstand. It’s not an entirely unfamiliar feeling; he’d tried this once or twice in his dorm room, nights when Donghyuck was away with a date. It’d rarely amounted to anything—he’d feel overcome with guilt or shame and end up jerking off the normal way, a fingertip pressed to his rim if he felt sneaky enough.

So, he’s surprised again by how much he wants it when it’s Jaehyun’s hand. He squirms when Jaehyun adds another, and then a third. The anxious thoughts running through his mind—about whether Jaehyun was enjoying himself, or how he should’ve showered after spending half the day behind the wheel—fade away to nothing at all once Jaehyun crooks his fingers just so. Then he’s whimpering, chasing something that feels like the build up to a normal orgasm from his dick but also like something else entirely.

“Is it okay?” Jaehyun’s voice is strained.

Even if it wasn’t, Mark knows he’d say that it is. And it is. “Mm.”

“Use your words.”

“It’s good, hyung,” Mark whispers. “I’m almost—”

Jaehyun removes his hand. He’s quick, rushed, even, to pull a condom from the wallet in the pocket of his discarded sweatpants. It’s still enough time for Mark to feel on edge and self conscious, fighting the urge to close his legs. Jaehyun slides the condom on, strokes himself a few times. His dick is a little smaller than Mark’s, almost as thick but not nearly as long. It fits him, another piece of the perfect puzzle that is his pale, lovely, Grecian statue of a body.

He goes slow when he pushes into Mark but it still hurts. He takes Mark’s hand and holds it. Kisses his knuckles. It’s this gesture, so loving and terrible, that finally causes a tear to slip from one of Mark’s eyes. Then another.

“Should I stop?” Jaehyun asks.

Mark shakes his head no, remembers himself. “No, hyung, please don’t stop.”

Jaehyun’s practiced at obedience, too. He fucks Mark until the pain gives way to pleasure, until Mark’s half hard again against his stomach. The same spot he’d touched inside with his fingers, he prods at with his length until Mark cries out. Mark brings his hands up to wrap around Jaehyun’s shoulders and—he’s shaking. Jaehyun is, for once. Or, maybe they both are. Mark feels anything but still.

Years later, Mark won’t remember how it ended, how Jaehyun had jerked him to completion before chasing his own release. Nor will he remember that Jaehyun had cleaned them up after, more gentle hands and easy caressing. He definitely won’t remember the easy way they fell asleep in each other’s arms, like they did this all the time.

What he does remember is that it started snowing at some point during the night. The first snow of the year.

He remembers how Jaehyun hadn’t looked at him when they woke up. How he’d said, “We can’t do this again.”

“I know,” Mark responded. He remembers saying that very clearly.

He remembers thinking, how fitting that their first time would also be their last time.

“I’ll leave you alone, now,” Jaehyun added. Whatever that meant. He borrowed a shovel from the garage to dig his car out of the snow. Mark hadn’t helped. He’d stayed inside and shut the blinds.

Jaehyun lied.

He texts Mark when he gets back to campus, a few weeks into the new year. Wants to know how he’s been. Mark blocks his number.

“Good for you,” Donghyuck tells him, even though he only sort of knows the barest of details about the situation. “Know your worth.”

Mark rolls his eyes, but it does feel sort of gratifying, the new ability to exercise a little self control.

He feels mature. Grown. He's not sure if that little ache he has for Jaehyun will ever go away, but he doesn’t mind so much, anymore. He’s old enough now to know that wanting someone enough doesn’t always make the hard parts worth it.

He’s also old enough to not be so scared of wanting someone in the first place. No matter who they are.

Mark finishes junior year and starts senior year without event. After hearing back from grad schools he decides to stay in the city and get his MFA in creative nonfiction at Columbia, which is only funny because Jeno decides to go to Veterinary school at NYU.

Mark’s parents think pursuing a writing career is a bad idea. Mark…doesn’t care. They’re thin lipped and stiff at Mark’s graduation, even more so when Mark finally admits he’s getting to know Johnny again.

Mark…doesn’t care.

He gets a studio apartment in Brooklyn because it’s cheaper and now that Donghyuck’s moving home to Seoul, he can’t really imagine sharing with anyone else.

When he's packing, a wrinkled sticky note falls out of the corner of one of the novels on his bookshelf. It’s ripped in one corner, the red ink smudged and faded.

Had to run out for a second. There’s only one more practice test, I’m sure you can do it yourself. Have a good school year.

Mark tosses it in the trash.

Then he fishes it out, smooths it on the edge of his desk, and puts it back in the book.

He rents a U-haul and together with Jeno, is able to move the small amount of his personal items in one afternoon.

“Can we talk?” Jeno asks when they’re done and drinking cool beers from the bodega downstairs.

“We’ve been talking all day,” Mark says, weary. But he takes a seat on one of exactly two folding chairs he owns.

Jeno takes the other one. “So, I’m moving in with Jaemin. We put a deposit down on an apartment in Chinatown.”

“Oh,” Mark says. “Uh, cool.”

“But, like.” Jeno swallows. “Not as roommates. As, um, partners.”

“Oh,” Mark repeats. He’s known they were dating for so long it seems almost silly to finally hear it acknowledged. “Cool? Dude, I figured.”

It’s easy after that. Jeno recounts the last ten years from his perspective, so does Mark, with the exception of mentioning Jaehyun. He’s surprised, then not, to find out that Jeno had been going through the exact same thing as him. The shame, confusion, mental anguish, all of it. If only they’d talked to each other.

In return, Mark tells him about Johnny, about how scared he’d been growing up, of his parents, of God, of everything.

And Jeno just…understands.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. Especially after that time at camp…” Jeno sighs. “I should’ve said this years ago, but I’m sorry I was so mean that night. I just, freaked out.”

At his worst, Jeno’s about as mean as a newborn puppy. Mark never held that night against him. He says as much. “I was freaked out, too.”

“I never regretted it, though,” Jeno continues.

“What?”

“You being my first kiss. I really wanted it to be with someone I love.”

“Dude,” Mark says. His face heats up. “Shut up. Bring it in.”

They hug it out. When they pull away from each other it’s only a little awkward, clearing their throats and wiping at eyes.

“What about you?” Jeno asks after a minute.

“What about me?”

Jeno frowns at him. “Seriously? Look me in the eye and tell me the ‘hot older guy’ you’ve had a crush on for a ‘very long time’ is not my brother.”

“I—it’s not like that,” Mark splutters.

“You’re not the only one with eyes, Mark,” Jeno says. The little shit.

Mark’s embarrassed. If Jeno, who is oblivious at the best of times, had noticed, then who else had? All this time, had he been gallivanting around with his heart so clearly on his sleeve?

“Really, it isn’t. We haven’t spoken in forever. Besides, he has Natalie.”

“Nata—” Jeno frowns. “Man, I thought your mom would’ve told you. They broke off the engagement like, a year and a half ago.”

A year and a half ago. Christmas break. Or soon after.

“Shortest engagement ever,” Jeno mutters.

Mark’s heart is racing. “Wait, really?”

Jeno gives him a funny look. “Yeah. I always thought it had something to do with…well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

It doesn't change anything. Mark turns twenty-two, then twenty-three. He gets his MFA. Dates a poet from his program, Xiaojun. Breaks up with him when they find out they’re better off as friends. He finishes a draft of his book. Starts working as an editor at an up-and-coming publishing house. The pay is shit, but the work is rewarding. Sometimes Johnny takes pity on him and sends over a couple hundred bucks for rent. Mark feels like a little kid, embarrassed, tries to send the money back each time.

Johnny waves him off. “Lighten up a little. It’s nothing; I’ve got fifteen years of big brother duties to catch up on.”

Big brother. Mark’s hyung. He’s glad.

In the spring Chenle and Jisung come up from Cali for their spring break. It coincides with one of Donghyuck’s semi-annual work trips to the city, and Renjun invites them all to get lunch, Jeno and Jaemin, too.

Chenle falls in love with the city; what rich kid wouldn’t? They’ve both grown up well. Mark has a feeling they’ll be seeing him and Jisung a lot more often after they graduate. And something about that feels right, the seven of them.

For his twenty-fifth birthday Johnny gifts him a round trip plane ticket from JFK to Seoul.

“What? Really?” Mark says, turning the paper over in his hands.

“Yeah, of course,” Johnny says. “I went a couple years back and I’m glad I did. You should see it, too. And when you like it, maybe we can go together sometime.”

So Mark goes.

It doesn’t feel like home, exactly. Mark’s not expecting it to. But it is familiar, in a way he didn’t expect either. He spends the week and a half in Donghyuck’s nice high rise apartment and eats more food than he’d thought possible. They bike along the Han River and drink three bottles of soju each at noraebang.

Mark’s Korean is basically fluent, but he hadn’t calculated for the amount of slang and cultural lingo that would fly over his head. He meets some of Donghyuck’s friends, who tease him until he can’t help but understand, and Mark feels like he’s part of something.

Before Mark leaves, Donghyuck takes him to Jeju for dinner with his parents, and it’s maybe the nicest meal he’s had in his life ever. It’s not even the food, though the food is great. It feels vaguely like a snippet of a life Mark could’ve had if things were just slightly different. If his parents had never immigrated, if they were open and accepted Mark exactly as he was.

They stuff Mark full until he’s scared he’ll have to be rolled back to New York. Donghyuck’s mom smooths his hair and thanks him for being such a good friend to Donghyuck in the States while they were roommates.

“He mentioned you every time he called us,” she coos. “I was so thankful he had made an American friend.”

“Eomma,” Donghyuck whines. “She’s exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not.”

Mark mourns for what he could’ve had. But then Donghyuck kicks his foot beneath the table and he remembers that he’s here because of a ticket his brother bought him. On his phone, there are a hundred messages from the seven of them’s group chat, everyone responding to the pictures he sent earlier of the trip. So he puts a stop to that and starts being thankful for what he has.

Renjun and Yangyang get married a few weeks after Mark’s twenty-sixth birthday. Mark knows you’re not supposed to say this about someone else’s wedding, but it’s kind of the best day of his life. To no one’s surprise, Renjun’s vows are the most romantic shit Mark’s ever heard in his life. Mark’s beyond grateful to be a groomsman, but for some odd reason he still doesn’t understand, Renjun chooses Jaemin to be his best man. Fucking weird. Mark still cries from the minute he sees Renjun in the tux until they leave for the honeymoon, anyway. And then again when Jeno catches the fake-ass bouquet throw. (Yangyang had tossed it directly into his hands.)

That fall, he gets offered a book deal. Harper Collins wants to publish his autofiction manuscript. It’s titled Baby Tiger Scratching At The Door, because that’s what he’s felt like for most of his life.

He’s apprehensive to take the deal at first. He’s still young, what if the book flops and he sullies his chance to be a serious author because he’s not ready? Johnny tells him not to look a gift horse in the mouth. His friends tell him to shut the fuck up and take the money.

He starts talking to his parents more again, after that. They heard about his book. They’re happy for him. Did Mark hear that Jaehyun moved to Midtown for his fancy new job? They want to know when he’ll visit home, if he’ll come to church.

“I don’t know,” Mark says, and he doesn’t. Maybe soon. Maybe never.

“Well, we’ll be here when you figure it out,” his mom says through the phone. When had she started sounded so old? He wonders if her hair has gone fully grey now. He hasn’t seen her in years.

“Not just for you,” his dad adds. “John, too. The two of you should come together.”

It’s not much. In fact, it’s barely anything.

(Still, it’s something.)

It’s just after Mark’s twenty-seventh birthday. It’s a Monday morning and he’s in Times Square—gross—meeting with his manager in preparation for the book tour he’ll be going on in a few weeks. He’s heading towards the subway station when he bumps into some loser coming out of an Equinox and spills his coffee onto the street and down into a gutter.

He looks up, ready to rip the asshole a new one (New York hardens you, what can he say?) except the Equinox loser is Jaehyun Jeong, wearing expensive headphones and basketball shorts, looking sort of like an angel in mesh in the midday sun. “Woah,” Mark blurts before he can stop himself. “How did you get better looking?”

Jaehyun’s sheepish about it, like he always is, as if he isn't still the most beautiful man Mark’s ever seen. “Do you have a minute to chat? Let me buy you another coffee.”

The ball’s in Mark’s court. He finds that he kind of likes it there. He shrugs. “Sure.”

They end up having to wave the waitress off three different times because they’re so deep in conversation they haven’t looked at the menu.

Mark waits to feel inadequate, sitting across the table from this older, mature Jaehyun. But he’s older and mature, too. He asks Jaehyun all sorts of questions, twenty years worth of them, because he expects Jaehyun to actually answer this time. And he does.

“I was scared, too,” Jaehyun says.

He says, “I felt guilty and ashamed.”

He admits, “I wanted you so much.”

“What changed?”

“I did. I stopped going to church. Realized it wasn’t for me.”

“You stopped youth pastoring,” Mark remembers.

“Yeah, because I felt like doing that while I was, you know…I thought it’d get me a one way ticket to hell.”

“And what do you think now?”

“That all that Bible thumping is a load of shit. I’ve thought that for a while, actually.”

“Really?” It’s obvious that Jaehyun’s changed, but Mark couldn’t have predicted how much. “You mean…you just don’t believe in God anymore?”

“Yup.”

“Just like that?”

Jaehyun looks surprised. “Wait, you still go to church?”

“Not church. But I still believe,” Mark admits. “Not in all the ‘gay people will undergo a punishment of eternal fire stuff.’ But like, I do believe there’s something out there, watching over me and guiding me towards the right path.”

Of course he does; Mark’s had the pleasure of meeting several angels throughout his life. Not that he says this part aloud. Too cheesy.

”I see.” Jaehyun’s dimples pops, like he’s biting back a smile. “That’s very…you.”

The waitress that had been clearly waiting around for a lull in their conversation finally comes over to take their orders.

“You kept running away,” Mark points out when she leaves. He’s leaving no stone unturned.

“True. That first time…” Jaehyun shakes his head as if to wipe the memory away. “I was fucking terrified, felt like I’d taken advantage of you, or something. Your mom was paying me to tutor you, for God’s sake.”

Mark laughs. That’s why he’d left that stupid sticky note? “Dude, I wanted it. I wanted it so bad, you have no idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that then. And then there was Nat, poor Nat.”

Mark has to agree. Poor Natalie.

“The only good thing I ever did to that girl was break up with her. I just regret that it took me as long as it did. I thought, even if I broke up with her, what would I tell my parents?” Jaehyun snorts. “Then Jeno brings Jaemin home one summer and introduces him as his boyfriend and it’s no big deal. They were literally so chill.”

“Hey,” Mark frowns. “That wasn’t easy for him.”

“I know,” Jaehyun says. “That’s the point. It made me feel inadequate, somehow—that my kid brother was brave enough to come out to them before I could.”

Mark shrugs. “There’s no timeline for these things.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, but he still sounds unsure. “Anyway, when I finally broke things off with Nat, you blocked my number. I figured it was a sign to leave you alone. I just regretted not being able to apologize for being such an ass to you for…basically my entire adult life.”

“Wait, you cut off your engagement for…me?” It seems obvious, but also completely outlandish. “You never said anything.”

“Yeah, because you blocked my number when I tried to reach out,” Jaehyun reminds.

“Oh.”

“Hey, I deserved it.”

“Yeah, but all that wasted time…” To think, they might’ve been together, dating even, for years now? It makes Mark’s head spin to imagine.

“Nah,” Jaehyun says lightly. “I was still an ass even then. I had some major growing up to do.”

“Yeah?” Mark asks. “And now?”

“All grown up,” Jaehyun promises. He’s trying not to smile again but his cheeks dimple anyway.

“Good.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry I was so terrible to you, Mark. I’m not looking for your forgiveness. I just want you to know.”

So Mark doesn’t give his forgiveness. Instead he says, “I remember your first day at church.”

All he has to do is close his eyes and he’s there. Perfect Jaehyun, ten years old and already well behaved enough to sit with the older kids. Perfect Jaehyun, with his dimples and cute hair cut. Perfect Jaehyun, who was honest-to-god born on Valentine’s day.

(My hyung. Yoonoh.)

“Really?” Jaehyun smiles wryly.

“Yeah. You were holding your mom’s hand. Bowl cut. So prim and proper while you waited to go back to the big service. I asked Jeno what your name was right away. I think that’s why we became friends, actually. Because I wanted to know more about you.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Don’t blame that relationship on me.”

Mark shrugs. “It’s true.”

“I remember you, too.”

“The first day?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Nah, not meeting you. Noticing you. For real, for the first time. I was what, almost fifteen? You guys must’ve been like twelve. Jeno came home and told me you were mad I was changing my name.”

“He did?” Fucking traitor, Mark thinks.

“Why were you? Mad, I mean?”

“Dunno. That was so long ago,” but Mark’s deflecting. Blood is roaring in his ears. “I think because I just liked you how you were? I always did. It made me sad that you felt like you had to change.”

Jaehyun looks bewildered. “Mark, what the hell?”

Their coffees come before they can say anything else. Jaheyun knows how Mark takes it, one sugar because it's morning, oat milk because of his lactose intolerance. More things he’s quietly noticed and remembered about Mark without ever saying so. It doesn’t make Mark sad anymore. All that missed opportunity. It makes Mark feel hopeful.

“I saw you.” Mark takes a sip of his coffee. Perfect. “All the time. It seemed like no one else cared to defend you—”

“There was nothing I needed defending from.” Jaehyun laughs, and Mark thinks, only a perfect man with a perfect face who’s lived a perfect life would say some shit like that.

Except, he knows now that Jaehyun’s life couldn't have been perfect. Not if Jaehyun was hiding, too. “Everybody needs defending,” he says simply.

“I saw you, too, you know. It just didn’t matter. First we were kids, then I was so sure I was straight, then there was Nat, and you being Jeno’s best friend…It wouldn't have worked.”

“Until now,” Mark notes. He crosses each thing off the metaphorical list. They’re not kids anymore. Not straight. No Natalie. He has Jeno’s blessing.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun ducks his head. “Until now.”

“You know,” Jaehyun says after he pays for their overpriced drinks and they head outside. “You’re the only one who still thinks of me with that name. Even my parents barely remember.”

“Is that annoying?” Mark asks, nervous for the first time that morning.

“No, I—ah,” Jaehyun mumbles. He sounds embarrassed; it’s a new tone on him and Mark’s enjoying it. “I like it, actually.”

“It’s okay, then? If I call you that sometimes?”

Jaehyun nods. “More than okay.”

“Okay, then. Yoonoh. Yoonoh hyung,” Mark adds, smiling wide.

Jaehyun beams back.

They walk together to the end of the block before doing that awkward New York thing where one person goes, “Well, I’m this way.”

“I’m that way,” Mark gestures.

For a second, they just look at each other.

Then Jaehyun wraps him up in a hug. His arms are strong and familiar. He smells like bergamot, amber, the old Jeep Mark’s parents got rid of years ago. There’s some deep shit communicated in that hug. Mark breathes in his woodsy smell and can tell without words that Jaehyun missed him, wants him, maybe even loves him. Still, he wants to hear the words. He’s expecting them later, in fact.

They clutch at each other for what’s probably longer than is socially acceptable, except it’s Times Square and no one gives them a second glance.

When they pull back Jaehyun has to clear his throat. Aw. “Actually, do you want to come over?”

Yes.

But a tiny part of Mark still wants to make him work for it, even if he wants to agree as badly as he wants anything in the world. Mark shrugs, tries to play it cool, even though he can tell from the matching stupid grin on Jaehyun’s face that he’s failing miserably.

“Maybe later,” Mark tells him.

He gets the feeling that they kind of have all the time in the world.