until dusk;

the kid saw nothing. nothing at all.

He wasn’t entirely surprised when the man took a step closer, his hand coming to take a startling grasp on the collar of Mark’s shirt - somehow he didn’t think he’d get it right, and the thought sent a chill through him, like ice freezing his blood in his veins, leaving him stiff, every muscle tense. 

Hope lost, Mark wondered whether he should even try and give an answer. There was always the chance his next answer would make things worse for him, but not giving one at all wouldn’t be good either. 

He was doomed. 

“J-Just...I saw...I didn’t see...Um...” Like a ball of yarn his words tangled within his skull, a muddle of ‘violence’, ‘aggression’ and ‘run’ curling around every other thought and suffocating it. He knows what he saw, and he couldn’t deny to himself he’d seen it, but he couldn’t say what he’d seen to the man stood so close - close enough he could practically feel his body heat seeping into his skin. It wasn’t enough to warm the ice within him, however. If he did, he most likely wouldn’t live to see another day. 

So he stilled - his limbs frozen in place, breath caught within his lungs. He’d gone into defense mode. 

“d-did you just hear that?”

she was stammering, but why? 

However now he wasn’t quite sure. Analysing their behaviour – yes, it could be seen in a ‘couple’ way. The hugs, the affectionate touches, feeding each other and sleeping in the same bed when they had sleepovers – it was definitely coupley. But it made Mark wonder – did he feel anything, in that way for Seohyun?

He’d never thought about it…

Suddenly it felt…weird. Holding hands felt weird, and the thought of hugging made him blush and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was…awkward. The grip on his hand made his hands suddenly clammy, and his chest constrict nervously, so with a sudden tug he pulled his hand away, shoving both deep within the confines of his pockets.

Ignoring Seohyun’s question, for the moment, he forced a smile to the woman behind the stall, his words falling ungracefully from his lips with a thud.

“Oh, we’re…we’re just friends.” But his words seemed to have the opposite effect of what he’d wanted.

“She’ll come around, you’re a handsome boy.”

He didn’t want Seohyun to ‘come around’, at least he thought he didn’t.

It’s funny how things can change within just a split second, feelings can become incomprehensible and emotions can spike. He no longer felt like he could hold her hand without it meaning something. Did she maybe feel that way? Did he feel that way?

With a glance over to Seohyun he cleared his throat, then dipped his head with respect to the old woman. As he began to lead the way out of the market, the silence that hung around them lay thick – even the hustle and bustle of the fish market couldn’t penetrate it.

His breath caught in his throat and stuck as Jinyoung closed any distance that remained between them as he leant his forehead to Mark’s shoulder, the simple touch sparking a fire beneath his skin that slowly spread through his veins. Everything about Jinyoung made him feel as if he had been set ablaze, the simplest touch having such a strong effect he worried that anything more and he’d be unable to control his impulses. 

It only worsened as Jinyoung’s chest came into contact with his own and he could clearly feel the thumping of the boy’s heart, almost in time with his own - erratic. Though before he could formulate an explanation for it, something to prevent him getting his hopes up, the younger’s words met his ears. 

Jinyoung liked him back?

“You... You do?” Even he could hear the hope in his voice, the hope that Jinyoung’s words rang true, and weren’t some cruel joke - though he highly doubted Jr would do that. Simply unable to stop himself from expecting the worst, he paused for a moment before continuing, licking over his lips slowly before speaking. 

{ ⌛ }

But when he did draw his attention to the person playing, he recalled the guitarist familiar face. And he was pretty good. Certainly wouldn’t spoil his appetite. But he was intrigued to ask him about the song he had been playing. Twisting in his chair to face the other playing on the small set, he wanted to ask but not until his performance was done. He would have felt bad had he interrupted the enjoyment others were experiencing with his playing. So when his waiter returned he eagerly asked him if he would relay a message to the musician when he was done. Feeling as if though this would be an effective way to get a conversation across with a colleague in the realm of music. 

Music had always been a great comfort to Mark, something to fall back on and submerge himself in when life got a little too much - when he needed to forget everything that remained real. It was an escape. The real world was a terrifying place, and the land of nightmares even worse, but music had always been there to wrap him in a bubble of lilting notes that floated through the air and danced like colour and warmth around him. 

It had begun with a love for the piano as a young child after listening to his father play - he’d wanted to learn, so he did. His first escape in the form of ivory keys and rims of hard maple - he was a natural, the notes flowing from his fingertips like water across stones, a river of soothing beauty that hung in the air long after the keys had been pressed. 

Not long after his discovery of the beauty of pianos, he’d found a new comfort in the violin, the high notes drawn from strings strung tight around bridges of maple, clinging to spruce soundboards and hardwood frames. The instrument sat comfortably in his grip, and once again he drew pleasure from the way the strings shivered at the touch of horsehair.

It had only been a few years later that he had taken the guitar into his steadily lengthening arms, slightly too long as he grew at odds and ends, until he evened out and the body fell perfectly to him, fit like a puzzle piece beneath his fingers. It may have been the most convenient and well loved instrument when taken with him for public entertainment, sharing his adoration of music with others at bars, cafes, even pubs. Never would it be a means of making money for him - he had enough to live comfortably. Music was simply a form of art he felt he should share with those around him. 

So he did. 

A pub he’d once played at had held his attention with weekly open mics, so it had become a usual haunt of his, somewhat of an outlet, since his neighbors didn’t exactly hold the same love of music he did. He’d spend around an hour on stage before drifting off as if he’d never even been there. However, as he was packing away the rich wood instrument into a case lined with padded velvet a waiter approached, one whom he was relatively familiar with, from his frequent visits. Upon gaining the information that a certain male sat near to the stage, one he had glanced at a few times during his performance, taking in his audience, desired to speak with him, he finished packing up and made his way over, stilling beside the table, curiosity prodding at his mind. 

Seolhyun had been a help right from the start, even though the first time Mark hadn’t even known why he’d gone to her. As he recalled it he’d been in such a distraught state that he’d simply rushed through the city, finding the first place that seemed even remotely familiar and pounding the door with his clammy fists until a life form emerged to bring even the slightest bit of warmth to his chilled body.

He knew Seolhyun wasn’t one to offer comfort, or be very good at providing it, but somehow the simple words and gentle touches soothed him, and he felt safe around her. Knowing her well enough to assume she’d be more than capable of protecting them both in the event anything happened, right from the very first instance he’d calmed quickly in her presence. 

At first the strokes to his hair had made him feel as if he were being babied, like he was just a naive child who’d come running to their parents after having a nightmare (probably about a clown), but they’d quickly come to be exactly what he needed. A gentle caress to the hair, sending calming waves over his body, aching from staying tensed and shivering for so long, he was able to breathe easier. 

his long fingers tap against the others thigh and he gives out a low hum, “ so you like him, right? does he like you? “

He hadn’t expected Sungyeol to guess so easily where he affections lay, but then again Sungyeol was a close friend who knew Mark well, and he’d never prided himself on an ability to hide his feelings - he was almost a sheet of glass when it came to hiding how he felt, especially when it burnt so brightly within his chest. 

Sighing heavily he gave a slow nod. 

“Yeah... Yeah, it’s Jin.” The addition of the word ‘cute’ on Sungyeol’s tongue when paired with Jinyoung sent a surge of something unpleasant through him, though it only remained for a second, before ebbing away as he reassured himself Sungyeol didn’t mean it in any way that held affection, just purely an observation, because Jinyoung was cute. 

Did Jinyoung like him?

That was the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks, maybe months now. Like a forever present stone of fear in his chest, fighting the warmth that seeped through his skin at every touch he shared with his roommate. He was scared his feelings would be found out, and it would ruin the friendship he so dearly cherished with the younger. 

“is it really? or is it from something else?” is it from me?

that’s what he really wanted to ask, but again. rejection was something that jinyoung was horribly afraid of. 

At the touch to his knee he froze completely, a short gasp passing as he realised how sensitive he was to the younger’s touch.  His eyes had become somewhat accustomed to the dark - he’d always been able to see in the dark better than others, so when Jinyoung’s tongue ran over his lips, he caught the slight movement, noting exactly what it was a moment later, and biting his own lip, holding back a frustrated whine. 

The question had him flustered. Did Jinyoung know? He couldn’t, could he? Had Mark made it completely obvious that the tightening at the front of his pants was Jinyoung’s fault? 

“I-I...” Unable to vocally respond, to tell Jinyoung the truth, he simply gave a rhythmless shake of his head, hoping the younger would see the action and understand - if not Mark feared he’d be unable to explain himself at all, ultimately resulting in an awkward, silent situation wherein Mark freaked out internally before running away, as he seemed to be doing both mentally and physically a lot recently. He’d run away from thoughts tied to Jinyoung many times. 

“S-Something...Something else....” His voice came out so feeble and quiet he wondered whether Jinyoung would even hear him.

jinyoung took in the sight of mark’s smile, let it warm himself up a bit. always, he found 

Mark knew Jinyoung loved his sleep, and didn’t function the best when deprived of it, so the suggestion of waiting out the night worried him. A grumpy, sleeping Jinyoung wasn’t his favourite, though he knew that sleeping in a public place where anything could happen at any time, and they were far from safe, would only pile more anxiety on Jinyoung. 

“I think we should try and get some sleep, you need your sleep. If it makes you feel better I’ll stay up to make sure nothing happens to you. I know it’s not the most comfortable or safe place to sleep, but I’ll make sure nothing happens.” 

Staying awake probably wasn’t the best idea for Mark, since he had a lot to do during the next day - planning his classes and thinking up new dances; tedious things. He’d also been wanting to finish writing a piano piece he’d spent almost a month trying to figure out already - he’d not be able to do any of it well if he didn’t get enough sleep.