~"Approval Over Understanding"~

Thursday, October 9th, 1997

Τhere is a fine line between love and passion. It is easy to confuse one for the other, and sometimes the boundaries become so blurry that love merges into passion and passion merges into love. Passion is a state of being — it resembles a phase of complete ecstasy that you wish would last forever. It fills you with a sudden burst of happiness that is so strong, it needs to become temporary, otherwise its effect weakens.

Love is more of a state of living — it draws you in, it roams around you like the strong scent of cologne, it captivates you in an invisible way, almost as if it does not exist and no matter what your state of mind or being is, it will always find you in the form of solace. This is exactly what gives it longevity in its effect.

You tried to keep a mental note of these thoughts for the time being until you could write them down, before you completely forgot about them and they ceased to exist.

You were standing outside your favorite café in Seoul, patting your hair and brushing your fingers through thick strands to untangle them. Fall was your favorite season when you could hear the crunchy sound of leaves under your shoes or the patter of raindrops on your umbrella, but one thing you were certainly sure of was that you were not particularly very fond of the wind.

With a firm push on the door, you stepped inside the place you liked to call your second home and, almost in a cartoon-like way, you rushed towards the front counter, drawn in by the magical, mythical, delicious scent of caramel.

The boy behind the counter was busy placing pastries in a paper box and didn’t immediately notice your presence, even though you thought that he could sense how much you were craving that cup of hot caramel latte you were dreaming about all morning.

“Jisung,” you raised your voice as you spoke, and the boy jolted up in the air at the sound of somebody calling his name. You liked to mess with him in this way because of his sensitivity towards abrupt loud noises. You didn’t want to, but it always spread your lips into a smiley smirk when he would jump around and drop whatever he was holding. Exactly what happened right now.

“Oh my God, Y/n,” he said breathlessly, pressing one hand on his chest to calm his heartbeat. You let out a soft giggle at his reaction and he narrowed his eyes at you. “I just like to tease you, Ji,” you said as he bent down to pick up the box and the now dirty pastries. He threw away the pastries in a trash can under the counter and placed the box aside in the counter behind him. He rolled his shoulders backwards as he came towards the cash register and swayed his head left and right to move his bangs out of his face. “Alright, alright,” he whispered to himself and he cleared his throat, straightening his back even further. He flashed a wide smile towards you and spoke in a voice that seemed loud to him, but to your ears it still sounded like his usual velvety soft tone. “Welcome to ‘'Caramel Craze’,  what can I get you?”

“Just my regular, Ji,” you said and he kept a note of your order on a small scratch pad, even though he knew your order by heart. “I’ll go sit down at our table, you can come join me when your shift ends. Also, just so you know, Yerim is coming too so be more alert. You know I go easy on you with the jumpscares but she doesn’t,” you said and he laughed at the mention of your friend Yerim, who liked to tease him just a little bit more.

“Okay, you go sit and I’ll be back with your order,” Jisung said and you stretched your arm to ruffle his hair playfully.

You always sat at the table furthest back in the shop right next to the wall-length window. Whatever the season, you enjoyed the access to viewing the outside world through the perspective of the glass that separated you from the people on the other side of it. Today, the atmosphere was covered by dark clouds of gloom that seemed harmless, with no intention of rain. You hadn’t realized how angry the wind was until you looked at the way the branches of the trees moved back and forth to the wind’s direction and the people struggling to walk through the windy force. Behind the glass window, it was peaceful and quiet.

You sat down at your and your friends’ designated table and took out your sketchbook and pencils. Looking around the small coffee shop, you noticed a girl standing, waiting in line to order her drink and possibly a little sweet treat to go along with it. She was wearing a long plaid skirt, falling down to her ankles, paired with a short jean jacket that ended right at the start of her waist. What if she added a leather corset? The length of the skirt kinda throws me off. Maybe a shorter skirt, chunkier shoes, different texture on the jacket-

You picked up your pencil and quickly drew lines that resembled a female human figure. Eyes darting from the girl to your sketchbook, back at the girl and your sketchbook again, you started gaining inspiration for new clothing designs. That’s why you decided to study fashion design; the possibilities of mixing and matching colors, patterns and textures were endless, and your creative mind couldn’t help but be fascinated by the art of fashion.

You were drawing quick rough sketches of clothes, making small changes here and there, trying to find a new, innovative, interesting design to present in class. For the last couple weeks, you were completely stuck and couldn’t create anything. The scholarship abroad wouldn’t be yours if you presented some boring, mediocre stuff.

Lately, you found yourself deprived of inspiration. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why this was the case, but anytime you picked up your pencil to draw new patterns of clothes, your hand automatically moved away from your sketchbook and gravitated towards the pocket-sized notebook you kept on the side of your desk, and all you could do with your pencil was to write words.

the flowers inside my mind wither and fall; dark fog covers the sky that hangs above my consciousness i hate to see you wilt — perhaps a new seed will grow on the ground and replace the void with color regeneration mirrors the art of becoming again

Setting your sketchbook and pencil on the side, you moved to take out the small notebook from the front pocket of your bag, flipping the pages to find a blank one and quickly writing down the words that came to your mind at that moment. This is what you always did when you felt stuck. You could never voice the thoughts occupying your mind, so you wrote them down instead. It was always easier to put them in place this way.

A loud bang resonated in the small café and you jolted up in surprise, dropping your pencil on the table. This is probably how Jisung feels, I get it now. You lifted your head to see your friend Yerim setting her bag and extra books on the table as she sat down on the chair across from yours.

“You scared me, Yerimie,” you said in a shaky voice and her lips lifted up to a smirk. “And I thought Jisung was the fun one to tease,” she said.

You scoffed at her comment and dismissed it. Yerim’s eyes dropped to the sketchbook and pencils scattered everywhere around the table, peeking at your trembling designs and the black smudges all over the pages that covered the designs you didn’t like.

“Still on designer’s block?” Yerim asked and you shook your head lightly. “I actually made some progress today,” you smiled, “I might have some ideas about what to make. These are pretty much the very first draft of it. If you can call it a draft,” you said pointing at your sketchbook.

Yerim hummed in understanding, but her eyes betrayed her true thoughts. Doubt? Hope? Simply processing what you said? You couldn't tell.

“Hey, listen, I have an extra class right now so I won’t stay, wanna meet me later in the library? I know you prefer studying here but I just came to pick up my coffee,” Yerim said. As if they communicated telepathically, Jisung approached your table holding two plastic cups with your beloved coffee shop’s logo on them. The intensely sweet scent of caramel betrayed what the liquid inside the cups was and you felt dizzy even at the thought of finally tasting the drink you were so desperately craving.

“Here you are, girls,” it felt almost as if Jisung mouthed the words by how softly he spoke. With shaky hands, he placed the cups on the table and smiled at himself for successfully bringing them all the way there without dropping them and spilling the hot coffee all over the shop’s floor.

“Are you coming too, Ji? To the library,” Yerim turned to him and Jisung nodded eagerly. “Of course! I’ll be there after my shift ends. Sorry Y/n, I can’t stay at the café all day, it's getting boring and it reminds me of work,” Jisung apologized to you and frowned.

“Don’t worry, guys, I’ll join you. Besides, apparently I also need to find this book for my project. You can go and I’ll meet you there later,” you said and you were going to keep your promise. 

Yerim grabbed her things and leaned over the table to give you a hug. She winked at you and waved at both you and Jisung on her way out the coffee shop. Jisung smiled and shook his head at Yerim’s sassy attitude and you couldn’t help but smile too at how adorable he was.

“You’d better get back to work Ji, or else someone out there is gonna rob all the money you keep in the cash register,” you reminded him and his posture stiffened, smile dropping and eyes widening when he remembered that his shift, in fact, hadn’t ended yet. 

“Oh, you’re right. But wait,” he said, putting his hand inside the pocket of his apron, only to take out a soft caramel cookie wrapped in sealed plastic packaging. He slid it into your hand under the table and offered you a shy smile. “It’s on the house. You need some energy,” he said softly as he walked away towards the back of the café.

You looked at the cookie and quickly put it inside your bag. You were sitting alone once again, blocking your surroundings as you stared outside the window to take a look at the outside world. The wind had calmed down significantly.

The flapping of pages one after the other echoed in the deafening silence of the spacious room. A few careful steps on the thick wool of the carpeted floors and the rhythmic clicking of fingers on keyboards filled in each quiet seconds that passed. The library was great for studying, but deadly boring.

Yerim was squinting her eyes at the screen of one of the library’s old desktops, scrolling and scheming through an article that she found important. Jisung, sitting next to her, fell asleep in the midst of keeping notes, head falling with a thud on the hardcover encyclopedia he was supposed to be reading. A soft snore escaped him, which earned a frown from Yerim. “Poor boy, he works and studies so hard,” she whispered.

You hummed under your breath in agreement as you sat up. “I’m gonna go look for the book I want. Care to join?” you asked Yerim but she shook her head instead. “I have to finish my work in 20 minutes, another girl needs to use the computer and all the others are occupied,” she answered and you encouraged her to keep on working.

You left your two friends to carry on with studying – or at least one of them – and slowly walked towards the massive corridors filled with shelves full of books. It was so intimidating. Tall bookshelves packed with books, aligned in continuous rows, leading you to the dead-ends of each corridor, almost in a maze-like effect. For a place that is supposed to be calm and quiet, it was safe to say that it rather filled you with anxiety.

You held your post-it note in your hand, looking at the name and serial number of the book you wanted to find. Despite the careful organizing of each shelf, you never seemed to find what you were looking for.

Eyes trailing along the shelves, you spent what felt like hours reading every single title on the spines of the books in hopes of finding what you wanted. Tracing your fingers along the shelves, moving your eyes up and down following the alignment of the books, you were trying your hardest to spot the title you needed before you got dizzy from the overwhelming sensation.

And bingo. The book was right there. Except, it was placed on the very top shelf.

You left an integral groan, trying to remain calm. You can do this, Y/n. Taking a deep breath and then exhaling, you gathered all your strength to stretch out your legs and arms in an attempt to reach the top shelf. Wiggling and pushing yourself on your tiptoes, you tried to hold on to the shelf with your one hand and grab the book with the other.

This plan could really work, yet instead of grabbing the book, you pushed it further into the shelf. There was a stepladder around here the last time, where the fuck is it now?

Sighing in frustration, your feet touched the ground again. Asking for help isn’t an option; you would rather lock yourself up in a room to hide the embarrassment of showing such a weakness. And it wasn't even a weakness, just your pure stupidity.

Looking around the corridors in hopes of finding that stepladder you needed, a shadow came upon you, reaching out a hand over your head.

“You were looking for this?” a low voice asked, barely upon a whisper. You turned around to see a boy your age standing in front of you, very close to you, stretching out his hand to you. And he was holding the book you wanted.

You blinked a few times, moving your gaze from him to the book and back to him. With swift movements, you took the book from his hands. “Yeah, thanks,” you whispered, looking down at your feet.

The boy didn’t move. He was standing still in front of you and you had no idea why. You could feel his burning gaze on you, traveling up and down your body to take in your full figure, his soft breathing as the only sound that could be distinguished in such an awkward silence.

“So,” he trailed off, with a prominent vocal fry in the way he spoke. He cleared his throat and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. “Introduction to Fashion Design, huh?” he asked.

His eyes were colored brown, so dark that they almost looked like an abyss you could get lost in. His nose was sharp, placed right in the center of his face, balancing every single one of his other features. His completely non-bumpy nose bridge led down to his lips, not thin but not full, stretched in an unreadable, Mona Lisa-like smirk that you couldn’t interpret. His jawline was forming a perfect triangular symmetry, connecting all his characteristics together in harmonious ways. You looked back into his eyes to finally notice the thick, expressive eyebrows framing every single detail on his face, slightly lifted due to the question he asked you seconds ago. His hair was short and bleached to a whitish platinum blonde color, neatly styled in a way that his bangs were parted to the sides of his forehead, split in an almost mathematical manner. You tried to find a flaw, something that didn’t fit with the rest of his facial features, but your attempts were in vain. He was perfect.

He was in fact gorgeous. Where the hell was he hidden all this time? Maybe you should have been coming to the library more often when Yerim and Jisung asked you to. 

You realized you were now staring at him, because he chuckled, smirk lifting upwards to show his ironic and teasing intention hidden behind it, eyes glimmering and brows going even higher. You also failed to notice that he was now leaning towards you, as he rested his arm on the shelf behind you, the one right above your head. “Staring much, kitten?” the teasing tone now obvious in his voice.

You gulped and dragged your eyes along his body, fully taking a look of his entire figure. He was taller than you, and he seemed quite buff under the hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing. The broadness of his shoulders and sturdiness of his stance betrayed his athletic physique. You tried to keep eye contact with him, smiling in an attempt to return the teasing attitude he had. “Are you flirting, Mr. buff guy?” you provoked him, laughing at the intentional choice of the teasing nickname. And you had no idea how you could master to give off such an attitude when you had such a good-looking guy standing inches away from you.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes playfully at your witty comment, looking right into your eyes, The fooling smirk he had plastered across his lips earlier was now replaced by a smile, a genuine one that hinted some interest. “You’re fun, I like you,” he said.

“Do you mean fun or funny?” you kept toying with him as he seemed to like it. “So you’re amusing, too” he said, but his voice implied that this comment wasn’t addressed to you, rather it was an observation he voiced out loud.

“Well, you seem amused so I won’t deny it,” you said and he laughed out of embarrassment. His laugh probably came out louder than what he intended, because someone from the corridor behind you shushed him, reminding him of what this place was. So he wasn’t that hard to read, after all. “Why do you need this huge ass book, anyway?” he changed the subject, tossing the conversation to you.

“Well, as you can see I study fashion design,” you said, “and I am currently suffering from a severe designer’s block so maybe this book will help me”.

“I’ve written some articles on fashion,” he said nonchalantly. “I can send you some of them, if you want. You might get some inspiration,” he added.

“You? Articles? About fashion?” you asked him in disbelief and he responded with one of his annoying chuckles he gave you earlier. “I study journalism, kitten. Writing magazine articles is part of the job, so I was assigned some fashion bits at some point,” he said.

“Now I’m amused,” you confessed honestly, raising your eyebrows. This was the last thing you expected from a guy that looked like that, whatever that would mean. He suddenly wasn't just a handsome, flirty boy but he actually became quite interesting.

“Yeah, maybe you’ve read some of them already. Well, I hope you haven’t because this way I have an excuse to contact you. I’m Na Jaemin,” he introduced himself, stretching out his hand initiating a handshake.

You accepted his handshake and introduced yourself too. “I’m Y/n,” you said, smirking at him due to his smooth flirtatious tactics that you hated to admit that they had you swept under his feet so easily.

“You can send the articles to my email address, do you happen to have a pen on you?” you asked him and he rolled his eyes once again. After all this time you were talking so close to one another, he took a step further back to search through the pockets of his sweatpants. He took out a scratch pad from his right pocket and a pen from his left. He moved the objects in the air triumphantly, raising his eyebrows at you. “I study journalism, remember?” he pouted and you chuckled.

He handed you the pen and notebook and you scribbled your email address on a random blank page you found as you flipped it open. You gave it back to him and he took it, looking at what you wrote down with drawn eyebrows, as if he tried to memorize it. “I was actually expecting you to write your phone number too, but it’s cool,” he said with a fake sadness in his flirty tone.

You giggled. “You can’t send me articles through my phone number, you know?”

He lifted his head and smirked at you, but in a way he hadn’t done so already. You could sense some excitement. “We’ll be in touch, kitten,” he said before turning on his heels, leaving you standing on the empty library corridor, burning like a rising flame.

hot lava builds up inside me, upon a single glance of yours scorching hot, scalding, sizzling, roasting, boiling, one more look from your fiery eyes, and my volcano will erupt — without any warning.

Friday, October 10th, 1997

“So you’re telling me that you carried out this full conversation while whispering?” Yerim asked confused, sipping from her caramel flavored hot chocolate.

“Basically, yeah. I mean, we were at the library. That’s how people are supposed to talk there,” you answered and she glared at you. “People aren’t supposed to talk at all in the library, Y/n,” Yerim deadpanned and you scoffed.

“That’s not the issue now, Yerim, focus,” you told her, averting her attention to what you had to say. “The thing is, I’ve never seen him before. And now he suddenly comes, looking as if he were sculpted by the gods, and he flirts with me!” you exclaimed.

Yerim opened her mouth to speak but she was cut off by Jisung, who rushed to your table with a coffee cup in his hand, slipping into one of the empty chairs. “Who haven’t you seen before?” he asked.

Last night, after your encounter with this guy, Jaemin, you couldn’t concentrate anymore. Your mind was occupied with the image of him, the way he looked into your eyes so attentively, the amusing tone of his words and the bulky physique that you could already remember in detail because of how much you stared at him. 

So you took your things and left the library because you felt shy. The confidence that had completely engulfed you while you were talking with him vanished abruptly and you immediately came back to your regular, shy self. You couldn’t admit to anyone, not even yourself, how flustered he left you after your brief first meeting with him, so you couldn’t face your friends after this, because your shyness would turn into embarrassment.

Jaemin sent you the fashion articles he had written, indeed, but that was it. You simply sent him back a ‘thank you’ email and that was the end of the conversation. Since neither of the two tried to continue it, you decided to just leave him be for the moment. You wouldn’t be able to say, or rather email him, anything proper after how bashful he left you. You actually took the time to read his articles instead, but they weren’t as helpful as you hoped they would be. At least you were thankful he kept his word and put in some effort.

You didn’t know Jaemin. But during the few minutes that you met him, the only thing you could read about him was that he was unreadable. Or, at least, difficult to read. The sharpness in his soft features, the softness of his tough body, and the deep brown eyes that were imprinted inside your mind hid things you couldn’t decipher.

His external appearance definitely lured you in, but the mysterious nature of his mind was what kept you intrigued.

So the next morning, you asked Yerim and Jisung to hang out at ‘Caramel Craze’. Jisung had a morning shift, so during his lunch break, he would have time to catch up with everything you had to say about Jaemin.

Jisung’s eyes traveled between you and Yerim, waiting for one of you to answer his question. You turned to him and hit him back with another question instead of answering his. “Ji, do you happen to know any Na Jaemin?”

His eyes lit up in realization. “Yeah, I do. He comes here quite often,” he said. In a matter of milliseconds, he narrowed his eyes at your confused ones. “Why, what about him?” he asked.

You blinked a few times. “You know him? And he comes here? Here, as in ‘Caramel Craze’? How have I never seen him?” you fired him with all your thoughts that you voiced out into questions and he stayed still, looking at you as if you were a madwoman.

“Yeah,” he trailed off, “I mean, how could you see him when you always look out the window? And then you constantly write on your notebook?” Jisung said and Yerim laughed.

“Don’t do her like that, Ji,” Yerim said. “She met him last night in the library. And apparently she developed a crush on him overnight,” she said and you slapped her shoulder. She let out a yelp and rubbed her shoulder right where you hit her, obviously in a dramatic manner.

“I don’t have a crush on him,” you said. But you do have a crush on him. Maybe it wasn’t a crush, but it was a great interest. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and the most frustrating thing was that you didn’t know what was so charming about him that he had you acting like this. You were too ashamed to admit to any growing feelings towards him, because you didn’t even know him. And even if you did have feelings, you would never voice them out; the words were stuck in your throat and could only be released through your silly little poems.

You repeated everything you told Yerim earlier so that Jisung knew about what happened at the library. Jisung listened closely, sipping from his coffee cup, nodding and humming at each of your sentences. When you finished, he placed his coffee cup on the table and leaned back into his chair, shrugging. “Why don’t you ask him to hang out?” he suggested.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks blazed with heat. “Are you serious?” you asked him.

“I might have to agree with him, Y/n,” Yerim pouted while fiddling with her fingers.

“I didn’t tell you to ask him out,” Jisung started, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards the table, “I told you to ask him to hang out. There’s a difference. You want to get to know him better, so you need to spend time with him” he said.

You realized that Jisung was right. He didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know, but hearing it out put some sense into you and prompted you to act beyond your thoughts. You were too shy to approach him, though. It still amazed you how well you handled his flirting and you were afraid that your actual reserved personality would put him off.

You didn’t even know why you were so curious about his idea of you. Were you that interested in him? You didn’t particularly mean to impress him, you just wanted to meet his expectations, whatever they might be. Your way of thinking was unknown to you, which made you believe you were starting to sound kind of desperate. And you absolutely hated that a boy had you acting so unsure of yourself.

Monday, October 13th, 1997

“So, what did you think about my articles? Were they any help?” Jaemin asked you curiously as he slowly propped himself up, resting on his elbows that were touching the moist grass.

You had just finished your morning classes and were heading to your dorm when you bumped into none other than Na Jaemin himself. You preferred the fact that you met him this way, on a random day on campus. It saved you from all your embarrassment and second thoughts you had about sending him an email. Who even sends an email for such a silly reason? It was times like this that you wished he had given you his phone number. So it was better this way. He seemed quite thrilled to see you, so you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse his offer of an impromptu picnic on the campus’ hill.

The weather wasn’t very ideal for a picnic, though. Spring needed to wait for her turn to come, so for now fall was in charge of setting the mood. The soft gray clouds were playing hide and seek with the sun and, if the sun cheated, the clouds would drop a couple of tears here and there out of annoyance. The freshly-cut grass beneath you was clearly affected by the clouds’ behavior, so you laid your jacket down and sat on it in order to prevent the dampness from wetting your pants.

You sat down on your jacket, knees drawn to your chest. You were looking ahead of you, eyes scanning around the open campus thinking of where all these people were going. Faces kept on coming and going, mouths talking and laughing and screaming, brains occupied with thoughts and stress and concerns. You could spend an entire fortune if it meant that you could have access to every little thing all these people were thinking about. But you were mostly interested in the thoughts and concerns that occupied the brain of the boy who was laying right beside you.

“Thank you for sending the articles, really. I honestly didn’t expect you to do it, but thanks. The thing is, though, they didn’t help me that much. But still, I appreciate it,” you answered with more honesty than what you intended. You didn’t have the heart to tell Jaemin that his articles were almost useless for what you wanted, so you tried to say it to him as carefully as possible. It wasn’t even his fault, there were good articles and this surprised you pleasantly, it was too bad they didn’t work for the topic of your assignment.

Jaemin frowned at your response. “Damn, were they that bad?” he voiced out his thoughts with a tone that hinted at some sadness, and you immediately turned to look at him. You lifted your hand to use it as a shield, as a sunray peeked through the clouds and fell right on your eyes. 

“What? No, what are you talking about? Your articles were great, just not what I needed,” you reassured him but he shook his head, lost in worry. The sunray moved and rested on Jaemin’s face, which earned a frowning look from him, squinting his eyes at the violence of the light.

“I don’t know,” he started, not looking directly at you, “sometimes I feel like I suck at what I do. I am probably a shit journalist.”

You fully turned your body to look at him directly and you couldn’t explain why you felt the sudden urge to slap some sense into him. The last thing you expected from a guy like him was to be insecure of himself and his capabilities.

“What are you even talking about?” you said, and he turned to look up at you, waiting for what you had to say next. “Those articles were great; your writing was precise, the content was informative and it was crystal clear that you worked your ass off to do this type of research. Look, I’ve only known you for like, what, five days? And we haven’t even talked during half of them, but you seem like a really good journalist. Never underestimate yourself again,” you encouraged him but the frown never left his beautiful face.

Jaemin scoffed and looked down on his lap, swaying his feet so the tips of his shoes touched each other. “I don’t know, it’s just,” he started again, pausing a little to think. He lifted his head and looked at you with his deep brown eyes, that hid a slight sign of dissatisfaction. “Everything is so much easier with photos,” he said.

You visibly blinked a couple of times at the ambiguity of his words and he took it as a sign to elaborate. “You know, sometimes I just wish I could abandon everything, grab my camera and just…just take pictures of things,” he said.

You stared at him. His words went right into you. You resonated with what he said, you related to his concern and just stayed still, eyes focused on the grass, reflecting on his worries.

Sometimes you felt like this too. Sometimes, you just wanted to leave everything and everyone behind, lock yourself in the comfort of your room and get lost in words. You wanted to block everything, focus on your notebook and just start pouring out your entire inner self onto the paper. 

“I think,” you whispered, “I think I understand how you feel,” you said and Jaemin nodded his head. It wasn’t a nod of agreement, nor a nod of understanding, but rather a nod of feeling heard.

You were taken aback by the way Jaemin opened up to you so easily. Behind the façade of the flirty, witty, handsome boy hid a boy full of concern, worry and insecurity. His mindset intrigued you even more, and you were captivated with the way he expressed himself to you with such firmness. It felt as if you just turned over the hardcover of a huge book, eagerly but hesitantly brushing your finger against the front page.

my journey to the vastness of your intellect began — let me travel all over it, walk along your roads, skip around the corners of your parks, run through the sand of your beaches, jump on the train to your heart. i just took the first snapshot of your mind; i would love to stay in this place.

Something light and wet fell on top of your head, landing right on the middle part of your hair. You winced at the sudden sensation, lifting your head upwards instinctively. Jaemin did the same, and a droplet of rain fell on his cheek. The clouds lost another round of hide and seek to the sun, and their anger started becoming obvious as more and more droplets fell on your faces and down to the already damp grass.

You exchanged a quick look with Jaemin and quickly got up from the grass, picking up your jackets. The back of your jacket was damp and a lot of tiny green specs were stuck all over it. You made a vain attempt to shake them off, but the droplets fell quicker with a sharper manner and soon enough the water seeped through your clothes.

You shivered a little but remained still, not moving the slightest. Jaemin was standing still too, looking at you attentively with one of those expressions you could never read. Was he smirking? Smiling? Grinning? His face started becoming a bit blurry due to a couple of rain droplets that fell in your eyes.

You rubbed the droplets off your eyes and looked at Jaemin with a clearer eyesight. Now he was indeed smiling. You didn’t know why he was smiling, and you didn’t realize how contagious his smile was because now you were smiling at him too. And as more droplets fell on your bodies, your smiles turned into laughter.

You and Jaemin were laughing, for no particular reason. Your clothes clung to your body due to the rain, and your hair was almost soaking wet. Despite the shivers running down your body from the abrupt change of the weather, your heart was filled with comfortable warmth and you didn’t bother to move until Jaemin spoke in between his laughter. “Quick, we’re gonna get wet!”

He held his jacket above his head to create a makeshift umbrella and you followed by doing the same, even though both of you were practically soaked. Without any warning, he grabbed your hand with his firm one and started running. You followed him, turning your fast walking into a quick run in order to match his pace. You let him lead you, smiles never leaving your faces, running towards an undefined destination.

Later during the day, when the sun was slowly moving further down the horizon, you found yourself laying in the comfort of your bedsheets, feeling surprisingly calm despite the almost aggressive pattering of raindrops on your window. You could say that this sound was rather the reason for keeping your mind at ease, because if it weren’t for this distraction, you would be going insane.

After you ran away from the campus park with Jaemin due to the sudden heavy rainfall, the two of you found yourselves drawn to the closest and coziest place that would keep you covered from the rain; and that is ‘Caramel Craze’. With Jaemin leading you by a couple steps, he barged into the coffee shop, practically passing through the glass door and entering the caramel-scented atmosphere that blocked away the threatening water force that soaked you entirely. Thankfully, the shop was relatively empty, and thankfully, Jisung was working there at that moment.

At the abrupt sound of you and Jaemin violently entering the coffee shop, Jisung knocked over a plastic coffee cup on the counter, right before he was about to hand it to the customer who just ordered it. Luckily, he had sealed the top part of the cup very well, so there was no sign of the liquid container spilled. Jisung apologized to the customer numerous times, panting and bowing nervously. The customer spared him a lopsided smile and left the shop, leaving Jisung behind, who was still apologizing under his breath.

He didn’t blame you or Jaemin for scaring him; he always blamed himself for being so sensitive to sounds, even though both you and Yerim had told him multiple times that it wasn’t his fault either.

Jisung then noticed that you and Jaemin were wet everywhere from the very top of your head down to your toes, water droplets falling from your hair down to the tiled floor and mud smeared from your shoes on the same tiled floor with every hesitant step you took. He quickly walked over the counter and came closer to you, offering you some hand towels he kept in his apron to help you dry yourselves as much as possible.

He then gave you his umbrella and asked both of you to go home. You, then, told him to keep his umbrella because he would need it, but he denied, saying something along the lines of ‘you guys will get a cold’ and ‘Yerim will pick me up’.

So you left ‘Caramel Craze’ with Jaemin, shortly after you patted your clothes somewhat dry and caught your breath from your previous marathon in the rain. Jaemin insisted on walking you home first to make sure that you wouldn’t get struck by lightning on your way, and then he would go to his dorm too. He kept his word and only left when he saw you enter the front door of your dorm building, keeping Jisung’s umbrella with him, as the rain didn’t seem to get any calmer at all.

And now, after you took a warm shower, you stayed in your room, hugging your pillows while lying in bed, trying to keep your thoughts away from the one thing that keeps on occupying your mind.

And that is Jaemin.

Only a week before today, you had no idea that this guy even existed. You had never seen him around, or even heard of him, and now, after one brief encounter you had with him at the library, he has become the only thing you’ve been thinking about. And the fact that you keep on having more and more encounters with him doesn’t help at all.

You didn't know Jaemin very well. In fact, you barely knew him. The only times you talked with him were when you first met, then a couple of emails you exchanged, and finally today with your eventful hangout.

You didn’t know him for a long time, definitely, and all these brief encounters with him weren’t enough for you to know him better. But even from this little time that you had spent with him, you knew for sure that he was a person worth getting to know better.

Jaemin was flirty, funny, smooth with his words, wrapping you around his finger in an instant and hooking you with just a smile that lights up his entire face. He is willing to help, he is curious and careful. But Jaemin is also just a regular college student, just like you, and he shares the same anxieties as you do. You were surprised by his openness and honesty earlier today, and, even though you were a little shy around him before, now you feel like you grew significantly closer to him.

All these traits you found in him made you realize how much you respected Jaemin as a friend. Although you couldn’t call him a friend yet, you knew well enough that you wanted to keep him as one. And the more he kept on occupying your mind and you kept on thinking not only of his personality but also his insanely good looks, you started to wonder if you wanted to develop a relationship with him that went beyond what you called friendship.

It was too soon to admit that you were slowly developing a crush on him. You were even more embarrassed to admit it when you thought about how fast you were falling for him and how the most trivial of things made you swoon over him. Instead, you kept on denying any feelings that were building up inside your heart because you knew that, if you let them free, you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on the repeating pattering sound of the rain when your eyes fell on the books and notes scattered everywhere on top of your desk. Your focus shifted to your studies, using them as an excuse to keep your mind from constantly thinking about the platinum blond-haired boy with the wide smile and the broad shoulders.

It was already mid fall. You were supposed to deliver your assignment by the end of the winter semester if you wanted to earn that scholarship abroad. With every leaf that crunched under your shoe, every droplet of rain that fell, every branch of the trees that moved along the wind, you were getting closer and closer to what you wanted the most; to pursue your studies in a foreign country, meet a different culture and broaden your horizons, just like every young fashion designer should do.

Yet, you were afraid. You were afraid of all the new things that awaited you, all the troubles that you may encounter, all the people that might judge you. 

The rain kept on hitting the double-glass window of your dorm room and you sank deeper and deeper into your mattress. You hugged your pillows as tight as you could, bringing them closer to your body and letting your head fall back, closing your eyes softly, inviting sleep to bring you comfort. You wished you had one of those delicious caramel lattes that you always drank at ‘Caramel Craze’. And most importantly, you wished you had a pair of broad shoulders wrapped around your body and a platinum blond head resting on the crook of your neck.

Tuesday, October 14th, 1997

The next morning, the sun and the clouds seemed to have made up from their last night’s aggressive fight, as the sun spread his sunrays all over the place, hitting your window and dancing all over your room. Their intensity of light sat violently on top of your eyes, forcing them open in an instant.

The sun wasn’t the only reason for your waking up, though. You felt an intense heaviness in your lungs, your throat was dry and your nose was so stuffy that the breathing air could hardly pass through your nostrils.

Fucking rain. You had a cold.

With weak movements, you managed to get out of bed and tried to find something that would ease your cold. You grabbed a spare hoodie you had on your desk chair and put it on, as a sudden shiver ran through your body. Your dorm wasn’t that cold, but your body sure was.

Searching through your bathroom’s cabinets, you managed to find a thermometer that was barely working. I hope it still does the job. Indeed, it didn’t take too long before it beeped and the temperature written on the tiny screen was enough evidence to know that you also had a fever. Great.

Your body felt heavy and weak, you found it hard and exhausting to breathe and the atmosphere around the closed space was inexplicably cold. Jisung warned you not to catch a cold, but it turns out that it was an inevitable outcome concerning last night’s weather.

With long, dragging steps, you managed to take a painkiller and make yourself some hot green tea. With frail fingers, you turned on your desktop to check today’s news. While you were waiting for the computer to load, you noticed the tiny screen of your Nokia flashing, indicating that you had voicemails. You opened your phone to listen to them as you logged into your email account.

You have six voicemails from: Jisung

You smiled at the notification and pressed play. Jisung’s deep anxious voice resonated in the small dorm room and you couldn't help but giggle at how worried he sounded about your well-being. You made a mental note to call him later and assure him that you were fine, even though you were burning in fever.

When you turned your attention back to your computer, you found one unread email from Jaemin. You weren’t sure if you expected it or not, but it made you curious when you saw the time the email was delivered. 20 minutes ago.

He could just leave a voicemail or send a short SMS like normal people. Why does he have to be so dramatic? Oh, yeah. He still doesn’t have my number.

You quickly opened the email and read through it very carefully. Apparently, he was feeling the same way as you did. His throat was sore, his body was aching and when he tried to talk, the soreness of his throat led him to a coughing mess.

Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid getting soaked in the rain, and the fact that you took it even further by running into this mess of a weather wasn’t the brightest idea. But you can’t say that you regretted it, not even the slightest; the memory of you and the boy that piqued your interest to the fullest, running, laughing and holding hands in the rain may be recent, but it is definitely engraved in your mind. And it certainly awoke feelings that you hadn’t felt for another human being before.

After drinking half of your cup of tea, your body felt a bit stronger than it was earlier, signifying that the painkiller started to work. You quickly sent Jaemin an email asking him for his phone number. It would be so much easier this way. You were bold about it and the shame hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn't keep on communicating with him solely through emails. You needed something quicker and more direct than that. 

Jaemin was quick to respond with his phone number, accompanied with a smiley emoticon. You smirked at that and slowly and carefully pressed the number he sent you on the tiny device. Gathering all your courage, you cleared your throat and waited for him to pick up at each beeping sound that passed.

You almost didn’t want him to pick up, though. The fast beating of your heart and the sharp breaths you took revealed your nervousness. No matter how comfortable you felt in his presence, any initiation of contact between the two of you from your part still made you nervous. You didn’t know how to approach him without feeling like you’re embarrassing yourself and this made your relationship with him awkward in theory.

“Hello?” his voice, deep and hoarse, echoed in your ear and your fingers trembled at the sound, finding it difficult to properly hold the phone in place. “Hey, Jaemin,” you cleared your throat but your voice still sounded quite husky, “how are you?” you asked.

You heard Jaemin sigh from the other side of the phone before he quickly cleared his throat. “Not very well,kitten,” he coughed, “I think you can probably tell”.

You let out a breathy laugh, completely ignoring the familiar nickname he liked to use. Your voice was giving up already and this was the loudest it would come out. “Likewise, I feel awful” you said and it was his turn to laugh now.

“Listen,” he groaned and immediately coughed a few times to open up his voice, “our little hangout session didn’t end well, so,” he trailed off, “do you wanna come over later? At my dorm?” he asked.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you felt your fever rising again at his straightforwardness.

“B-but,” you stuttered, “we both have a cold. Do you think it’s a good idea?” you asked, trying to avoid seeing him in this situation.

“Exactly! We’re both cold, so what’s the matter? I j-just wanted to s-see you,” he stuttered his words due to his dry coughing.

He was right. You both already had a cold, so there was no risk of spreading any viruses between you. And it would be a huge lie if you said you didn’t want to see him. As much as he made you nervous, there was no denying the fact that he offered you great comfort. His presence felt warm and homely like an embrace and the quietness of his thoughts left room for conversations to unfold. You were grateful he was the one who asked you to hang out, because, as much as you liked him and his company, his intimidating aura and your slowly-developing crush on him were enough excuses for you to avoid initiating any contact.

You finally sighed and smirked at Jaemin’s tone, which was far from persuasive but whiny enough for you to fold. “Make sure to drink something warm. I’ll be coming over later,” you said and you smiled brightly at the childish exclamation of happiness from the other side of the phone.

“Your room is cleaner than I thought,” you said as you sat down on the edge of Jaemin’s bed in the middle of his dorm room. Jaemin scoffed and put a hand over his heart, as a way of expressing hurt and betrayal. “Now I feel offended,” he said, but his voice cracked due to his cold which sent both of you in a laughing outburst.

His room was indeed very neat and put-together. Upon entering, you could clearly tell that it belonged to a boy strictly from the boyish scent that engulfed the atmosphere inside those four walls. With minimal furniture and decoration, the room felt almost plain, as if he didn’t actually live there. The only sign of personality inside the room were the pictures hanging on the walls, as well as the journalism books scattered on top of the desk. On the right side of the bed, the short wooden bedside table had collected some specs of dust around the reading lamp. On the left side, closer to the wall, Jaemin had positioned his camera on a tripod.

“Would you like some tea? I had boiled some water earlier and I think there’s still some of it left. It must be enough for two cups,” Jaemin suggested and you nodded, accepting his kind offer.

You didn’t have to speak a word in order for Jaemin to understand you. For some reason, a short and simple up and down movement of your head was the only sign he needed to grasp the positive answer you expressed at his offer. He was quick to turn his heel and go to the single kitchen counter of the dorm to grab two tea cups, placing one chamomile tea bag on each of the cups and slowly pouring the boiled water from a kettle in the cups.

You could see his actions unfolding with the corner of your eye. His dorm room was just a little smaller than yours; there was one big room that functioned both as a living room and a kitchen, a bathroom big enough to fit just one person and a bedroom which included a bed, a tall and narrow double wardrobe, a nightstand and a desk. You found yourself staring at Jaemin, watching him carefully as he filled the cups with the flavored warm liquid, his movements slow and weakened due to his ill state. He would halt his movements sometimes to cough on the inside of his elbow and then go back to what he was doing. His broad back and shoulders hunched as he slightly bent his body downwards to reach the short countertop, and you imagined how his toned back muscles would flex under his hoodie with his every movement.

You couldn’t see the entirety of his face, just a glimpse of his side profile every time he moved around the so-called kitchen area of the room. His defined features darkened due to the shadow that casted upon his face, created by the yellow light that illuminated the tiny space. You weren’t sure why but you felt incredibly attracted to him at that moment. Even with the dark circles under his eyes, indicating his lack of sleep due to his cold, his puffy red nose and swollen lips, he still looked beautiful.

You’ve never called him beautiful. Your attraction towards him was clear, but the fact that you still find him presentable in such a state ringed a bell inside your head and you didn’t really like the sound of it.

Jaemin placed the kettle back on the counter and picked up the now full tea cups, clearing his throat in order to suppress a cough. You quickly teared your gaze away from him, fixing it on the pictures hanging on his walls. Your eyes landed upon a picture of the open sea.

“What are you looking at?” Jaemin asked as he handed you one of the teacups, his voice rough. He coughed a few times, giving you time to think of an answer. He placed his own teacup on his bedside table and then climbed on his bed, sitting cross-legged with his back pressed against the headboard.

I was looking at you thinking about how beautiful you look and how amazed I am by your aura and how I am afraid I am falling in love with you but I don’t want to admit it because it’s stupid, I’ve only known you for a week. You obviously couldn't say that.

You mimicked his position and crossed your legs on the bed too, still holding your cup. “These pictures are beautiful,” you said in a breathy voice, probably due to your cold and not due to your sudden nervousness.

Jaemin suppressed a smile, biting down on his lower lip and quickly shooting a look at the picture-covered wall and then looking back at you. “Thank you,” he said with a rasp, yet it sounded genuine.

You brought the cup to your lips, taking a few sips of the hot chamomile tea, swallowing it carefully as you let it glide down your throat, opening up your vocal chords. “How did you even take a picture of the open sea? Can you fly or something?” you asked him, voice coming out a lot clearer and now Jaemin let out a throaty laugh.

“No, silly. I was at the beach. I took it using this,” he said gesturing towards the tripod on the side of the bed, “It’s called a tripod. With the right angle and zooming in, you get this kind of result,” he finished and you stared at the picture once again.

The sea had a slight movement to it, little waves rising and falling as the bright blue color of the sky reflected a darkness on the water. You couldn’t understand how a photo, a still image of something could contain so many kinetic elements, and the more you focused on it, the more you could see your own eyes appearing through the sea waters because of the reflection caused by the light of Jaemin’s bedroom.

“What’s in that pretty little head of yours, kitten?” Jaemin asked in a whisper, protecting his voice. Without taking your eyes off the photo, you spoke up as loud as you could. “The sea looks so…” you trailed off, “sad,” you found the word you were looking for. This simple small word made Jaemin tilt his head to the side, squinting his eyes in thought. “Why do you say that?” he asked you.

You pouted your lips. “I don’t know”.

His silence prompted you to think further and voice out your thoughts, to make sense of the feeling this image created inside you. At that moment, you wished you had your notebook in hand so that you could write down everything that was inside your head instead of voicing it out. It would be so much easier. But doing that would make the silence awkward rather than comforting, so you gathered all your strength and tried to put into words the emotions you were feeling.

“There’s something about the sea, its blue color and the unexplored depth that evokes such melancholy,” you started, “I just feel empty looking at it. Like there’s a hole inside me as deep as the open sea and it’s so hollow that it oozes with gloom and somberness,” you finished and Jaemin let out a stifled laugh, hinting at an ironic tone.

You turned to face him for the first time after you entered his dorm and your expression must have looked as if you were misunderstood, so Jaemin stopped his laugh abruptly and his features molded to a serious face. “I mean, you poets are so desperate to read so much into things. Not everything has to be depressing or sad. I look at this image as something that gives me calmness, serenity. The blue color fills me with peace and imagination. Why is blue considered a color that represents sadness when it brings such tranquility? I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jaemin said and you cracked a smile at his final comment.

“I’m not offended, I just never thought of it that way,” you whispered and you sipped some of your tea to ease your throat which had become hoarse again. “And I’m not a poet,” you deadpanned.

Jaemin couldn’t help but smile widely, his full teeth on display. You could swear that you had never seen such a perfect set of teeth before, or just a beautiful smile per se, and you mentally slapped yourself for finding someone’s teeth attractive.

“But you are, I’ve seen that notebook you have. That day at the library. You didn’t notice me but after you went back to study I followed you and saw you writing on it. I couldn’t make out what you were writing, but the format of it looked like a poem,” Jaemin said and your mouth dropped open. You never wanted him to find out about this. These little ‘poems’ were everything you were feeling, it was just between you and yourself. Only Yerim and Jisung knew about it and they had never landed a hand on it. Only you were allowed to see what was inside of it.

“I will not comment on the fact that you followed me, stalker,” you emphasized the last word and Jaemin managed to smile even wider, “but in a sense, yeah, I am a poet. But it’s not what you think it is,” you said, drifting your gaze to somewhere, anywhere, away from his eyes.

“Then what is it?” he asked, waiting for you to elaborate.

You didn’t know Jaemin for a long time. That was for sure. But what you definitely knew very well was the urge to open up to him, to finally be able to say everything you felt, everything you thought about without any inhibitions or any fear of judgment. You’ve never clicked like this with anyone before. Jaemin was indeed calmness personified; you knew that he would listen to you whenever you just wanted to vent. He had his way of bringing out your true self, he radiated such security and you just couldn’t help but let your inner self loose, stripping your inner consciousness naked and allowing him to access your bare mind.

“The reason I use this notebook is because it helps me express myself,” you began and Jaemin’s eyes softened. “I-I struggle with this sometimes, you know, saying what I want or what I feel,” you said and gulped in an attempt to ease your sore throat, the teacup in your hands long forgotten. “So I use this to write down all of my thoughts. This way I can let it all out without feeling any pressure from others to talk about things,” you finished off and Jaemin stood still, searching for your eyes which now landed on his compassionate gaze.

“This is so beautiful,” he said with a squeaky raspy voice and the both of you struggled not to laugh at the sound. “I totally understand you, I’m not the best at expressing myself either,” he said and looked around his room, gesturing at the walls. “That’s why I take these,” he mumbled, moving his eyes around to look at the hanging photos, “photography helps me put some boundaries inside my head and kinda gives my feelings substance, like they become tangible, you know?” he said and you nodded in understanding.

“I guess we’re not that different after all,” you smiled and Jaemin giggled at your observation. “You know, when we first met at the library you seemed so cocky, so confident, as if you owned the place. You made me feel shy, but it turns out you’re as much of a hopeless romantic as I am. It’s a shame, it ruins your buff aesthetic,” you said and Jaemin burst into laughter.

He coughed a couple times because laughing caused damage to his already sick vocal cords and regained his composure. “Maybe we’re both too emotionally intelligent and seek ways to express ourselves artistically. The difference is that you picture your emotions through words, while I try to voice out my own feelings with photos,” he said.

You liked what he said because it was true. Your poems were your way of conversing with yourself and the means to communicate what you wanted. Jaemin probably felt the same way about his photos and it seemed to you that maybe you could gain access to his mind through them, speaking to each other through a code of communication that only you and him shared.

“Now who’s the actual poet?” you joked and Jaemin threw his bunny plushie at you. The two of you were laughing, and this simple action just felt so intimate with Jaemin. If every time you spent time with him was like this, then you surely wanted to spend a big part of your life with him.

You brought the teacup to your lips but Jaemin’s sudden movement made your hands wiggle, causing a few droplets of tea to fly up and down your shirt. “Hey, now I have tea stains!” you squealed and you immediately regretted having this reaction as you physically felt your throat ache.

“Oh shut up,” Jaemin said playfully, moving towards the camera resting on the tripod. He took the camera in his hands and sat back down on the bed, right at the place he was sitting earlier. With a few clicks on some buttons, he brought the camera close to his face. He lifted one knee and rested the elbow of the hand holding the camera for support. Jaemin squinted his eye and with a quick push of a button, a soft click was heard in the quiet room.

You stood there still, looking at Jaemin with a confused look as he set his camera aside and grabbed his teacup instead, tilting his head backwards to gulp down all the liquid content left inside the cup. He gulped loudly as he finished and placed the cup on his nightstand with a thud.

“Um, what did you do, exactly?” you asked him and he shrugged. “I took a picture of you. Too bad you can’t see it now. I have to print it first,” he said and you froze.

“Are you an idiot? Why would you do that? I probably look awful! I mean, you didn’t even warn me,” you whined and Jaemin rolled his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic, Y/n. It was just a picture. You know, to remember our little sick hang out session. You’re gonna look back at it in a few months and laugh at our pathetic condition. Also, don’t yell, kitten, you’ll damage your voice,” Jaemin said and you frowned, you hated that he was right.

“And if you want my honest opinion,” he continued, “you didn’t look awful. Y-You actually looked very beautiful,” he whispered the last part of his sentence and focused on the bunny plushie you threw at you earlier, suddenly finding it interesting.

You suppressed a smile and muttered a small ‘thanks’ under your breath. You didn’t know if he heard it or not. If he did, he acted as if he didn’t hear it. Jaemin thinks I’m beautiful.

“Can I ask you something, Y/n?” Jaemin said after a few awkward seconds and you looked into his eyes expectantly, waiting for his question. “Do you know what a ‘blue person’ is?” he asked and you made a confused face which earned a giggle from him.

“Well,” he started, “it’s a person who comes into your life when you need them the most. A person who inspires stability and loyalty, who makes you change your perspective in life for the better, someone who has a soothing effect on you,” he said and took a moment to process this.

You’ve never thought about it before, but in that moment, sitting on Jaemin’s bed talking about things that are serious yet make no sense at all, drinking warm tea and laughing at your sick condition which was caused by your silliness and carelessness, you brought a particular face in your mind, coming to the sudden realization that you knew exactly who your blue person was.

Saturday, November 15th, 1997

“Do you smell that?” Jaemin asked as he sniffed, his nose scrunching at the apparent unpleasant scent he could sense. “No?” you responded confused, sniffing in an attempt to smell whatever he was smelling.

“How can you not? This place is 20 square meters big. I swear something is burning,” he said and kept on scrunching his nose, as he took his yellow highlighter and went back to underlining things he found important on the newspaper spread across his lap.

Your eyes widened in surprise when you finally remembered the cinnamon rolls you put earlier in the microwave. “Oh no,” you muttered and stood up from your chair abruptly, going towards the built-in kitchen counters of your dorm. Without even turning off the microwave, you opened the microwave door and pulled out the plate with the two cinnamon rolls, hissing at the touch of your fingers on the hot glass plate. You placed the plate on the empty space of the kitchen counter, looking at the brown-colored cinnamon rolls with almost teary eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Jaemin asked as he walked towards you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you turned your head to look at him, “I hope you don’t mind eating a slightly burnt cinnamon roll,” you said and shook his hand off your shoulder, opening the small fridge under the counter to grab a bowl. “I mean, once I put the glaze on top you won’t even be able to taste the burn,” you laughed awkwardly.

Jaemin grabbed your hand and turned your body around fully so that you were entirely facing him. He squeezed your hand slightly and with his free hand and moved a strand of hair that fell on your face behind your ear. “It’s okay, we don’t have to eat them, don’t stress about it. I’ll go grab some fresh ones down at ‘Caramel Craze’. My treat,” he said soothingly, rubbing his thumb unconsciously over the palm of your hand that he was holding.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you let go of his hold and turned back around, grabbing a spoon and dipping it into the bowl with the glaze, scooping some of the glaze with the spoon and spilling it over the cinnamon rolls. “Ugh, I’m so dumb! I can’t even make microwavable pastries!” you cried out and dropped the bowl on the counter as your shaky hands couldn’t hold it anymore. You run both your hands through your hair, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Jaemin moved closer to you and started rubbing your back in circles, as you hunched over the kitchen counter. 

“You’re not dumb, don’t make me listen to bullshit. It was just a little mishap, no big deal. In fact,” Jaemin trailed off and let go of your back to grab a cinnamon roll from the plate. You pouted at the sudden lack of his touch, but he didn’t notice. Jaemin took a big bite of the cinnamon roll, chewed a few times and looked at you. “With the glaze on top, you can’t even taste the burn,” he said with a smile and winked at you as he went back inside your bedroom, sitting down at your bed to continue reading the newspaper.

You had known Jaemin for about a month now. And you spent almost every single day with him. Yerim and Jisung whined at you, saying that you don’t make enough time for them anymore and that they’re not your favorite friends now that you’ve met Jaemin. This was not true, but it definitely rubbed them the wrong way when they wouldn’t see you every day, like they used to, because Jaemin would make plans for you and him on the spot.

During this period, you and Jaemin grew significantly closer. You could confidently walk around and say that the two of you were friends, despite the underlying flirty attitude on both sides, and the looks people gave you upon hearing this statement were priceless.

Nobody could understand how a girl like you, shy, introverted, soft-spoken, could hang out with a guy like Jaemin, popular, friendly, outgoing. The two of you might seem the complete opposite of one another, but in reality, you had so many more things in common than people could imagine. They just didn’t wanna see past a person’s external appearance and initial vibe. That’s why your friendship with Jaemin seemed weird and unexpected to them, but to you, it was just right.

You would be fooling yourself though if you said that you only wanted him as your friend. It was undeniable that every time your hands brushed against each other, every time he hugged you, every time he would play with your hair or pinch your cheeks, you wished you could call him more than a friend. Skinship with Jaemin felt so natural, nothing he or you did was forced and there were always genuine intentions behind each touch. You had already laid out your inner self to him, both of you had opened up to each other about different thoughts and worries you had. Expressing your feelings vocally gradually became easier, the words slipping out of your tongue every time Jaemin would ask you what was wrong, and you just melted at the sincere concern in his voice and the curious eyes he looked at you with. So being more comfortable with each others’ bodies was bound to happen at some point. 

He made you feel listened to. You didn’t remember when the last time you wrote poems in your notebook was. You didn’t have to. But, to be honest, you also didn’t have the time to write anything. School became hectic and the pressure of deadlines was enough to make you stressed about the assignment that was supposed to earn you the scholarship abroad.

You stood still, taking deep breaths to help yourself calm down. Picking up the plate with the remaining cinnamon roll, you straightened your back and headed towards your desk. You sat down at the chair, turning to face your messy sketchbook filled with semi-colored designs. Your project was progressing a lot and you were kinda proud of it, but not entirely. You kept having doubts about it and the pressure to succeed messed with your entire mentality.

You made a move to pick up your pencil to add a couple of details on a jacket you just designed but you decided otherwise. You hesitated for a second but mastered all your courage instead. Turning your chair around, you looked at Jaemin. He was wearing a concentrated expression on his face, eyebrows drawn together as he was seemingly reading something he found important.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and immediately cleared your throat. You didn’t expect your voice to come out so small.

At the faint sound of your voice, Jaemin averted his gaze from the newspaper to your eyes. “About what?” he asked, his furrowed eyebrows carrying confusion now.

“About whatever that was earlier. I don’t know what’s got to me, I feel stupid for behaving like this. I’m sorry,” you said and lowered your head to look at your lap. You felt weak under Jaemin’s concerned eyes, and holding eye contact with him at that moment felt like an extreme sport.

Jaemin put down the newspaper and turned his full attention to you. “Aw kitten,” he murmured and your head jolted up at the sound of the nickname he had given you. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize about anything,” he reassured you and you felt your lips lift upwards into a grimace that you hoped resembled a smile. “I know you’re stressed about the assignment, I would be too if I were in your shoes. Forget about it already, will you?” he said and you nodded.

Jaemin went to grab his highlighter when your voice halted his movements. “How can you always stay so positive?” you asked him out of pure interest. You were a bit jealous of him, of his way of viewing the world. Even in the worst of moments, when there is no sign of light, he would still find a tiny glimpse of hope to hold on to. You wished you could do that too.

Jaemin offered you a tight lipped smile. “Kitten,” he started, “if people didn’t stay positive about life, we wouldn’t be able to move forward in anything”.

His honesty caught you off guard. He didn’t notice your tangled face as he immediately refocused on his school work. You decided not to push him any further, moving what he said to the very back of your mind. When he felt ready, he would open up to me.

You turned your chair and started working on your assignment too. For a few minutes, both of you remained silent. The room was filled with sounds of pages turning and pencils scratching on paper. Your mind was entirely focused on your project, completely forgetting about the boy who was in the room with you.

Jaemin was keeping notes on the side of a newspaper article when he spoke up, addressing you. “Remind me again, where is that scholarship supposed to be?”

“Canada,” you answered his question without losing your concentration on what you were doing.

Jaemin lost focus and his mind went blank, forming different thoughts inside it. “Damn, that’s,” he mumbled, “that’s a bit far away,” he said with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah,” you smiled nervously, not being able to hide your disbelief. You couldn’t believe an opportunity like that was offered to you, so you had to give your all into that silly project.

“At least you have something planned. You know, something to look forward to, for your career,” he said casually. “Unlike me. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, let alone what I wanna do in the future,” he continued.

“Well,” you started, picking up a red-colored pencil to paint the inside of a coat, “I haven’t got the scholarship yet. If I do, then we’ll talk about it”. You switched the red pencil for a blue black. “And you still have lots of time to think about your career, no need to stress about it now”.

“Whatever. The point is, you will get the scholarship, I know you will. I’ve seen your designs and if these don’t deserve a scholarship abroad, then I don’t know what does,” Jaemin said and you giggled at his encouraging words.

“Thank you Jaem,” you said and you couldn't see him, but his eyes lit up with love at the sound of the nickname you gave him on the spot. The beating of his heart quickened abruptly and the pen he was holding slipped from his fingers as his hands became sweaty. He swore his hands weren’t sweaty a few seconds ago.

Before he resumed with his homework, he spared a last glance at you and gulped. He knew that he shouldn’t be feeling whatever it was that he was feeling at that moment.

Friday, December 19th, 1997

Shades of blue, red and yellow reflected on the thick glass of the wall-length window, trapping the little specks of light inside it in such a way it made them look like colorful halos. The fun and playful nature of Christmas lights gave the dull and moody winter atmosphere a hopeful tone, the kind that was in complete contrast with the darkness of this cold season. Feathery flakes of snow in the color of purity were falling rhythmically on the already snow-covered ground, making a little dance in the air due to the chilly breeze in the sky. It was already late afternoon; people were roaming in the streets of Seoul, walking quickly with their heads hanging low in an attempt to prevent the crispiness of the cold from hitting their face. Whether they had finished their night classes or their corporate jobs, all of them were walking towards one specific purpose, the warmth and comfort of their own homes.

You were an exception to this rule, though. Well, not just you. ‘Caramel Craze’ would still be open for about an hour. Students were still sitting at the shop’s tables with their books scattered across the wooden surfaces and their warm coffees accompanying them in plastic cups. Looking at them, you could sympathize with them. Their dark circles under their eyes were prominent and the strong and sweet scent of caramel-flavored coffee made them more sleepy than they already were.

Sitting at your favorite table, you wrapped your fingers around your plastic cup to help transfer some of the liquid’s temperature to your freezing fingers. Winter offers itself for plenty of layering and experimentation in fashion, but the cold weather it comes with is unbearable. 

“Hey, girl,” Yerim’s voice shook you out of your thoughts and you greeted her back as she unwrapped the scarf from her neck and folded it at the back of her chair. She sat down, dusting the front of her coat to shake off some snowflakes that had landed on its woolen material and eventually took it off too.

You and Yerim started chit-chatting about your day. She started filling you in with all the details about some guys yelling at each other on campus, but the context of the reason behind their argument was unknown.

Your conversation was interrupted by the screeching of the chair on the tiled floor to your right. You winced at the sound and turned to look at the culprit. Jisung pressed his lips together apologetically and greeted you and Yerim softly. He sat down carefully and lifted the chair as he dragged it closer to the table, shutting his eyes closed as if this would help him avoid any more screeching.

“So, what did you want to tell us Y/n? Come on, I can’t wait anymore,” Jisung complained and you ruffled his hair playfully. “Just wait a bit more, please? Jaemin is not here yet,” you said and he nodded in understanding.

“Oh yeah, we’re still waiting for you boyfriend,” Yerim commented and Jisung snorted, covering his mouth with his fist to prevent his laughing.

“How many times do I have to tell you? He is not my boyfriend,” you reminded them but your defensive tone didn’t seem very convincing to them. Jisung raised his eyebrows and Yerim rolled her eyes, but you couldn’t really do anything about it.

The truth is, you didn’t know what your relationship with Jaemin could be labeled as. He was a very good friend, indeed. But at the same time, he didn’t act like just a friend. During the past month, you and Jaemin practically became attached to the hip; wherever he went you went and wherever you went he went too. He grew closer with Yerim and Jisung too, and the four of you started hanging out together quite often. Jaemin liked your friends a lot and they liked him back too, even though Yerim was a little skeptical about him at first, saying that a popular guy like him couldn’t possibly be that nice. Jisung always disagreed, saying that he found him easy-going and fun to talk to, but he always muttered this under his breath to prevent Yerim from getting angry.

The four of you made a really good team. But there was no denying that Jaemin treated you differently from the other two. At first, you thought that it was maybe because he was more comfortable with you and that it would take him some time to warm up to the others. Time passed, and you were finally able to see the Jaemin you knew with Yerim and Jisung too. But he never found excuses to touch them, or hold deep eye contact with them, or buy them coffees or ask them to hangout without you. He only did all those things with you.

Yerim found this suspicious, but you kept telling her that she was delusional and none of all of this was true. She was just trying to make you feel better about your huge crush on him by feeding into your own delusions, but her tactics made things even worse because every time Jaemin did something remotely romantic, you would overthink about it for days.

It’s not like you couldn’t open up to him about your feelings. The two of you had already gone past that stage. You could talk to Jaemin freely about anything that bothered you and you knew that he would listen, just like you would do. Expressing yourself wasn’t so hard anymore. Jaemin made everything easier. But these were not just any feelings. These were your feelings about him. No matter how bad you wanted to let it all out, the words were stuck in your throat and, even worse, you found it difficult to even write them on paper. So all you could do was ignore them.

A cool gust of wind entered the cozy café when the front door opened, revealing the boy you have been dying to see all day long. Jaemin took a couple of glances around the room to spot where you were sitting, although he knew you would probably be sitting at your favorite table, unless some other people went there first.

His eyes landed on yours, staring at him and waiting eagerly for him to come towards you. With dragging steps, he made his way towards your table and sat down on the chair to your left, his deep brown eyes never leaving yours. “I’m not too late, am I?” he asked, addressing Yerim and Jisung too this time.

“It’s fine, man. I just came too,” Jisung replied to him casually and you didn’t miss the way Yerim smiled at the volume of Jisung’s voice, which was noticeably louder than his usual speaking tone. 

“Don’t you have a shift, Jisung?” Jaemin asked as he made himself comfortable on the chair, refusing to take off his puffer jacket. By looking at his shifting posture, you could tell he was feeling a bit uncomfortable in it.

“No, I was working in the morning. Chenle is covering the afternoon shift,” Jisung said and Jaemin nodded, muttering a soft ‘cool’ under his breath.

“Okay, so,” you began speaking to grab their attention. It was becoming harder and harder to keep the secret from them any longer. You just wanted to get it done and over with.

“Let me guess,” Yerim interrupted you, lifting her finger, “you have already booked tickets for our Christmas holiday vacation,” she said and you stared blankly at her.

“Oh I knew it!” Jisung exclaimed, eyes widening. “It’s Jeju, isn’t it?” he asked with great anticipation. Jaemin remained suspiciously calm.

“Jeju in winter? Are you serious?” Yerim cut off Jisung’s enthusiasm in a second, his eyes dropping and lips forming into a soft frown.

“No, actually I’m going back home for the Christmas holidays this year. I’m spending time with my family,” you said but Yerim shrugged upon hearing this statement.

“So? I bet you booked it for after the Christmas holidays then,” he said and turned to Jisung. “But it can’t be Jeju, right?” Yerim asked but the question was mostly directed at Jisung who just sighed in annoyance.

“Actually, guys,” you started, leaning more towards the table to feel physically closer to them. Jaemin mimicked your stance, but the other two remained still in their positions. “I’m not gonna come back to Seoul after the holidays,” you said and they froze.

“What?” Yerim whispered, looking at you with confusion spread across her face.

“Well,” you said, suppressing the smile that was creeping up your lips, “I won’t be back because I got the scholarship. I’m going to Canada!” you said and this time you couldn’t help the wide smile that appeared on your lips.

All three of them looked at you with wide eyes, swarming you with a bunch of exclamations that sounded like a mix of ‘congratulations!’ and ‘I knew you could do it!’ and ‘you deserve this so much’. Yerim even got up from her seat and came to sit next to you in the booth, hugging you so tightly you found it difficult to breathe.

Your eyes were searching your friends’ bright ones filled with excitement for you. They were proud of you. It was obvious. You have been constantly talking about the scholarship and now that you actually got it, it seemed unreal.

Yerim let go of you but still remained seated beside you. “I’m so happy for you, I can’t even think about how much I’m gonna miss you! How did I forget about it completely? What a shitty friend, I was too busy studying for my exams. I gotta tell my friend Mark about it, he’s gonna be so excited!” she said, clapping her hands together.

“Who’s Mark?” Jaemin asked, his voice as cold as the temperature outside. “He’s the coolest! I’ve only met him once but he’s so nice, man,” Jisung said with more excitement than he intended to show.

Yerim turned to Jaemin, reaching for his puffer jacket to remove a platinum blonde hair that fell from his head. “He is a friend of mine. He moved to Canada when we were in elementary school. I had told him about Y/n’s interest in this scholarship and he promised to help her with anything she needed if she got it. And now she did! I’m so excited for you, you can’t imagine!” Yerim addressed her last sentence to you and the smile plastered across your face could not die down at all.

“Don’t bother him too much, Yerim. He’ll probably think I’m completely clueless. Trust me, I can handle myself in a foreign country,” you reassured her but she waved her hands at you, going into a full rambling mode. Jisung would butt in the conversation from time to time to add his own comments, but mostly to agree with Yerim on whatever it was she was saying. Jaemin remained silent, eyes fixed on the wooden table in front of him.

You were fully immersed in the conversation you were having with Yerim and Jisung, which mostly revolved around tips about what to do abroad and warnings about creepy strangers. A loud screeching of a chair echoed in the room, following the rustling of clothes and the decisive thumping of footsteps. You turned your head to see that Jaemin had got up from his chair and was heading towards the café’s front door, opening it and letting it shut close behind him.

You exchanged a weird look with your friends before you got up and followed suit after him. You went outside the crisp atmosphere, your skin meeting the frosty environment. You felt your eyes water at the sudden cold sensation, so you pulled your coat closer to your body. Damn, I left my scarf inside.

Among the huge crowd of people, you managed to spot a certain platinum-haired boy walking towards somewhere you didn’t know. You called out his name, skipping and pushing through the people walking towards the opposite direction, not having the time to apologize to them for your rude behavior.

“Jaemin!” you finally called once you were closer to him and he heard you, turning around to search for the source of the voice calling his name.

Once he spotted you, he sighed and slowly turned his heel to continue walking away. You were quick enough to tug at his jacket before he could make more steps ahead. “Jaemin, listen to me,” you said, your chest heaving up and down.

“What happened? Why did you leave like that?” you asked him, raising your tone of voice thinking that he wouldn’t be able to hear you in the midst of the busy street. 

“What was I supposed to do? Sit there and listen to your friends planning out your life abroad? About that random guy you’re supposed to meet there? No, I don’t wanna listen to any of these,” he said with a hint of anger, making a move to turn around again.

You were still holding onto him. You pulled him again and he turned around, sighing deeply. “B-But I thought you were proud of me, I thought you were supporting me on this,” you said. Your vision became blurry, thick clear liquid forming at your lower lash line. It wasn’t the cold that caused this.

“Of course I support you and of course I’m happy for you, you have no idea how proud of you I am. But-”

“But what? What, Jaemin?” you interrupted him.

He shook his head, gulping thickly before he opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t want you to go. I’m not ready for this, okay? For the past two months, I have been living my best life with you around me. I-I can’t just sit here and watch you leave. You’re leaving, Y/n. You’re leaving me,” he said, his voice breaking at his last sentence.

You stared at him in disbelief. He can’t be serious right now. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Jaemin. I really am. But what you’re saying is irrational. It’s only gonna be one semester! I’ll be back before you even notice it. And we’ll always be in touch!” you said, your throat itchy from the shouting, and the tears you were holding in. 

“You will forget about me,” he said, lowering his gaze.

“I will not-”

“Yes you will. Y-You know what, Y/n? I was really rooting for you. And I still am. And maybe I’m saying this because I don’t feel ready to let you go, but you don’t really want to pursue this career. Deep inside, you know this too,” Jaemin said and walked away, leaving you in the middle of the pavement, tears streaming down your face uncontrollably, frozen in place like a centuries old iceberg.

thick as ice, my heart burning from the cold inside it, throbbing and shaking like a weeping child; your knife, freshly sharpened at the edges points and cuts through me crack! — shatters fly up and I am bleeding as you melt away, far away

Sunday, January 11th, 1998

As soon as you stepped your foot out of the plane, your body immediately reacted to the winter breeze of the atmosphere. Although you knew that the temperatures in Canada weren’t that different from the ones in Korea, the air in Vancouver felt much fresher and cleaner than the urbanity it carries in Seoul. But as you were standing outside the airport for nearly half an hour with two heavy suitcases in both hands, the cold air became a lot crispier and your clothes weren’t warm enough to keep you from practically freezing.

Yerim promised you that she would send her friend Mark to come pick you up from the airport as soon as you landed. You insisted that he didn’t have to, you were capable enough of finding a taxi and your English was almost at the level of fluency, so arriving safely at your new dorm wouldn’t be a hard task. But you also knew better than to argue with Yerim, so you just let her do her thing. The problem was, you didn’t know what Mark looked like and the fact that you were waiting for so long wasn’t a good sign.

You looked at the watch on your wrist and sighed. He must be in some kind of trouble, it’s been 40 minutes now. You had no means to contact this guy and even if you did, you weren’t sure if your Korean phone number could work in a foreign country. You promised yourself you wouldn’t panic if things don’t go the way you wanted, but at that moment, the fact that you were far away from home started to fully kick in. You were standing outside an airport of a foreign country, in the midst of thousands of strangers passing by you, with no familiar faces in your peripheral vision. The idea of studying abroad was fun in theory, but in practice it actually was scarier than you imagined.

But you had to manage somehow. Winter offered itself for coziness, hot drinks and movie nights; the situation you were currently in reminded you of the exact opposite side of the cold season. You let out a deep sigh, visible like cigarette smoke in the crisp air. You noticed a line of taxis on the other side of the airport entrance and decided that it was the best thing you could do to avoid your fingers and toes from going completely numb. Gathering your luggage, you turned your heel towards the lined-up taxis and made a mental note to explain everything to Yerim later.

“Um, excuse me?” you heard a voice behind you and halted as you recognized that this person was speaking Korean. You turned around and noticed a guy your age with flustered cheeks, wide eyes and heavy breathing staring at you. You understood that he was speaking to you and the gears in your head turned upon realizing who he might be.

“You must be Y/n, am I right?” he asked and you moved closer to him, flashing him a smile. “And you must be the guy who was supposed to pick me up. Mark, I guess?” you asked him back and he offered you a boyish grin. That was cute.

He walked towards you and lifted one of your suitcases. He went to grab the other one too but you stopped him, taking it yourself. “Look, I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting. I know I have no excuse but trust me, when I tell you the traffic in Vancouver is a mess, I really mean it,” he apologized as he began walking towards the airport’s parking lot. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” he said in English, his tone revealing the sincerity of the words he uttered.

“Don’t apologize, I’m the one who should be sorry,” you followed him, trying to match his pace but you realized that he was walking quite fast and with the suitcase weighing you down, you had difficulty catching up with him. “I told Yerim I could manage on my own, but she was so persistent. I didn't want to be a burden,” you apologized. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” you said in English too, just like he did earlier. Mark turned to catch a glimpse of you, smiling at the sound of you switching to the country’s language. His smile didn’t last long; it was replaced by his widening his eyes when he saw how far behind him you actually were.

He stopped to wait for you and when you finally caught up, he stretched his free hand to take your other suitcase from your hand, muttering ‘Give me that, I got this’ under his breath.

Mark sighed as he resumed walking. “I guess you can’t really argue with Yerim, huh?” he asked in English but this didn’t take you by surprise. You decided to start using your English more from now on, since you’ll be needing it more often now.

As soon as you reached the parking lot, Mark stopped at a gray Audi 100 and put your suitcases on the ground as he searched inside his jacket pockets to find the keys. “You own a car?” you asked him in English and he took a double take at you before smiling. “It’s actually my brother’s,” he said as he opened the car trunk, putting your suitcases inside. “I asked him to borrow it, he said no, but I took it anyway,” he said, closing the trunk and you laughed at his nonchalance.

Mark walked towards the driver’s door to unlock the car and quickly stepped inside, unlocking the door at the passenger’s seat from inside so you could get in. He carried such an easy-going and comfortable aura around him, cracking jokes and making you feel welcome even though you only knew him for a few minutes. He was talkative, extroverted and seemed nice. Right away, you knew that reading into him wouldn’t be that difficult, his facial expressions betrayed every single emotion he carried in his heart and you only got that from one simple conversation. He was the exact opposite of Jaemin. But you didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to specifically compare these two boys with each other.

After your last encounter with Jaemin before Christmas holidays, you didn’t see him or speak to him again. You did not go back to Seoul, but neither you or him made an attempt to contact each other and you weren’t sure why. You didn’t like the way your last encounter with him ended. At that moment, you thought that he was being utterly selfish for speaking to you like that. But looking back at it now, you can see how it must have looked like from his point of view. A person you grew so close with leaving you for a semi-long period of time. It must be as hard for Jaemin as it is for you, even though he is the one who stayed behind. Yerim and Jisung also noticed that Jaemin was distancing himself from them, but they did their best to cheer him up as much as they could.

You missed him. And you missed your friends too. But you missed Jaemin differently because he was more than just a friend. And things became even more complicated because he was less than a lover. This confusing situation between the two of you was becoming a mess, and since neither of you would open up to each other, you thought that maybe taking some distance from one another would be for the best. It was times like this when Jaemin became unreadable, and no matter how close you two were, his deepest thoughts still remained unexplored and far away from the surface.

The sound of a car honk shook you out of your reverie and you were reminded of your surroundings and the person waiting for you inside the car. You skipped towards the right sight of the car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat, stepping inside.

“Everything okay out there?” Mark asked you as he revved up the engine. “Yes,” you responded, wearing your seatbelt, “it’s just that it just hit me that I’m in a foreign country, away from my family and stuff, you know?” you said and Mark nodded, turning on the air conditioning of the car as he reversed the car to drive off the parking lot. The car engine made a loud noise as Mark pressed on the gas, and you guessed that it might be due to the weight it carried and the high temperature of the air condition. The car wasn’t in its best condition anyway.

“That’s how I first felt when I came here,” Mark shrugged, looking at his rear view mirror, “it’s hard at first, but you get used to it. When you’ll have to go back, you won’t even want to leave,” he told you and you smirked, thinking that this scenario is highly likely to happen.

“Yerim forgot to mention what your field of studies is,” Mark initiated the conversation and you realized that comfortable silence wasn’t something he enjoyed.

“I study fashion design,” you said and his mouth dropped open, eyes never leaving the road ahead of him. “No shit!” he exclaimed and you giggled at the sight of his surprised expression, his cartoon-like eyes so wide you thought they would fall off his face any second now. “Damn, I should have worn something better then,” Mark said as he briefly eyed his outfit and you burst into a fit of laughter. “Don’t worry, I don’t dress my kind either,” you said and he giggled playfully, the sound making you take a better look at him.

You could only see his side profile now but you managed to take a quick good look at his face earlier. His eyes had a bambi shape and were a deep shade of brown, carrying a youthful spark in them almost resembling a starry night. His features were sharp, cheekbones popping out and jawline clean-cut as a knife. His small nose had a faintly red undertone to it due to him previously being in the cold for a long time. His thin lips were slightly parted as he stirred the wheel on a crossroad, revealing a set of small teeth that looked a bit crooked from the side, even though you noticed earlier that they are not. His hair was a natural dark brown-black shade, his wavy bangs falling into his eyes in a bowl-cut shape, even though you could see the clean-shaved undercut from the side. As he turned his head to speak to you, you also noticed the uneven shape of his eyes, which added some uniqueness and personality in his looks. Even though he didn’t look like the type of guy you usually found attractive, this particular combination of features in his visuals made him look interestingly adorable.

“That’s true, those fashion majors are kinda loud with their outfit choices. I wouldn’t guess you majored in fashion because, no offense to those crazy-dressed people, you dress normally,” Mark said and you narrowed your eyes at him, sparing him a soft chuckle.

“You didn’t mention what you are studying,” you said, eager to know more about him as his sense of humor and witty responses piqued your interest to the fullest.

“I study literature,” he said and he didn’t miss your surprised expression because he turned his head again, grinning at you with confused eyes. “Wh-What’s wrong with that?” his question sounded genuine, but also hinted at a nervous undertone.

“This is so cool!” you exclaimed and you saw him visibly relax. Just when you thought he was just a fun guy to hang around with, he became one of the coolest people you know with this simple statement.

Mark giggled nervously, eyes back on the road. “Not gonna lie, you had me there for a second. I thought you would find me weird or something,” he said and you rolled your eyes at his response.

“Are you kidding me? I love literature! It’s so cool that you major in it. I actually write small poems from time to time,” you confessed and it was Mark’s turn to widen his eyes and open his mouth in surprise. Again. 

Indeed you loved literature and you did write poems, that was true. Those little things you called poems were just all your emotions poured into words in a piece of paper. When Jaemin called you a poet, you immediately denied this title but you knew better than everyone that he was kinda right. Yet your poems were just for you and not many people knew about them. You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was that made you open up to Mark so much already, but you just felt safe with him. Similarly to how Jaemin made you feel. You revealed to Mark a part of yourself with so much ease, yet it took you longer to talk to Jaemin about your silly notebook.

Why do I keep comparing Mark to Jaemin?

“Damn, you write poems? Dude, you gotta show me someday. I’m more of a novelist but that’s just too pretentious to admit,” Mark was laughing away both his nervousness and excitement, code-switching between English and Korean. The glimmer in his eyes couldn’t go unnoticed either and you just found his speaking habits cuter and cuter.

I can’t show you my poems, but I like your enthusiasm, you wanted to tell him but you couldn’t. You just nodded instead.

Mark slowed down his driving speed, swerving into a parking lot outside a tall building with plenty of small windows, which you assumed were the dorms. “Well, you know what? I’m actually mad at Yerim now, she didn’t mention that you were so cool,” Mark said and you felt your cheeks burning at his comment.

“I’m mad at her too because how could she forget such an important detail?” you said and Mark parked the car just before he burst into a shrieking laughter, the loud volume of which made you wince. What a weirdly charming guy.

Mark turned off the engine of the car. Pulling up the hoodie of his jacket, he opened the door to step outside, immediately moving to the back of the car to open the trunk and take out your suitcases. You got out of the car too, closing the door carefully behind you. The door made a soft clicking noise and you stared at it confused. “It needs a little more pressure to close properly, here,” Mark said when he noticed your baffled face and stepped closer to you, stretching out his arm to grab the door handle. You took a step back,distancing yourself from him. The sudden proximity of his body to yours made your cheeks blush. Despite the freezing atmosphere, Mark radiated a comfortable warmth that couldn’t explain. Pulling the handle, Mark slammed the car door shut with a loud thud. You shut your eyes momentarily at the sound and Mark turned to you with a sly grin across his face. “That’s how it’s done. You could say she likes it a little rough,” he joked and your face was boiling hot at how explicit he was with his jokes. Maybe it’s a cultural thing.

Closing the trunk shut, Mark handed you your suitcases and gestured at the tall building behind you. “So here’s where you’ll be staying. My dorms are down the street, just a five-minute walk from here. If you ever need anything, you will find me at the 7th building, room 200. So,” he trailed off, “we’ll be in touch?” he offered you a tight lipped smile and you nodded.

“We’ll be in touch” you confirmed. Lifting your suitcases, you turned on your heel towards the entrance to your new experiences of your student life. “Will you be okay with these? I can help!” Mark shouted and you turned your head while still walking. “I’m fine! Go get some rest Mark, you deserve it. Thanks a lot for today!” you said and you turned your head back quickly, missing the wide smile that spread across Mark’s face and the sparkle that lit up inside his eyes.

Upon entering the 15 square meter room that was supposed to be your home for the next five months, you dropped your suitcases on the floor, putting off unpacking for later. Shuffling through your backpack, you pulled out a pen and the small notebook, a couple of its pages creased. You searched for a blank page, sitting cross-legged on the carpet of the tiled floor, lifting up your knee as a supporting surface to place your notebook. Taking off the cap of the pen with a pulling of your teeth, you scribbled on the page to warm up the ink of the pen, before you started pouring out your thoughts.

have you ever noticed how all snowflakes are different? shape, size, design, even color, intricate is their form, sculpted in detail and care, you will find not one that looks like another — their beauty lies in their uniqueness. “what’s the strangest snowflake you’ve ever seen?” “one that delicately landed suddenly on my cheek; its texture unusual, its form not as elaborate as the others, yet once i picked it up with the softest brushing of my finger, i realized that it was the most beautiful snowflake of all”

Sunday, January 11th, 1998

The first snow of winter had already fallen in Seoul weeks ago. The white season was already in the midst of it, crossing its deepest parts with the temperatures dropping to the lowest degrees of the latest days. Jaemin found this coldness excessively present, as his heart has been frozen ever since Christmas.

Jaemin hadn’t talked to you since your last encounter before Christmas holidays, which ended in an emotional argument. Ever since that day, he kept feeling guilty of the way he spoke to you; he wished he could turn back time to relive that moment with you, filter his words better and tell you all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say that day. All because he was scared.

The sentences he spoke that day kept on pondering all over his brain, over and over again. No matter what he did to distract his thoughts, everything came back to that painful day. ‘You will forget about me’. ‘You don’t really want to pursue this career’. Even though he truly felt everything he said, he deeply regretted every time he recalled in his memory your tear-stained face and the thought that he had hurt you.

Jaemin was scared of losing you. Despite being popular and hanging out with large groups of people, he had difficulty getting substantially closer to other people, opening up to them and allowing them to see his true self, allowing them to discover his inner world and feeling like he didn’t have to hide things or pretend to be someone that he’s not. All it took from you was a look of sincerity from your bright eyes, a genuine smile promising him that everything is going to be alright and a touch of your tender hand to know how much you loved him.

Jaemin was sure of it. You didn’t have to say anything; he could sense it all. He viewed people as pictures; people are just moving images, they don’t have to make a single sound to express what they want. A careful look at their body language was all it took to reveal a plethora of things that words could never describe.

You didn’t have to say anything for him to know how you felt about him. Or maybe he was trying to excuse himself and justify his delusions, because his feelings for you were probably even stronger. He was sure that somewhere in that little notebook you carried, scribbled with messy letters on a random page you flipped open, was where your feelings for him were laying. He once tried to take a peek at it, in hopes of finding what he wanted. Fortunately, he soon realized that what he was about to do was a violation of your privacy.

He regretted how he handled the announcement of your departure. He wished he could express his happiness more, he wished he had told you all his worries in a more intimate way, he wished he didn’t storm off like that, he wished his anxiety didn’t realize as anger but as love, he wished he could tell you how much you meant to him. Whatever he did, the result would be the same; you would still leave. He just wished you didn’t leave thinking he was mad at you for doing so.

It wasn’t too late to make things up. Looking at the clock on his nightstand, Jaemin realized that you would have probably already landed in Canada. He was counting down the hours, keeping notes of the different time zones. He refused to go to sleep without knowing you had arrived safe and sound. He hated the fact that you were so far away from him. Just when he had you so close to him, he lost you in a slip of time. His growing fear of people leaving him behind kept on becoming reality with every single encounter he had in his life. No matter what you promised him, and no matter that he knew you would always keep that promise, a part of him creeping up like a little devil on his shoulder knew that eventually you would get tired of him and leave.

Pulling the drawer of his nightstand, Jaemin took out a picture and studied it, a precious smile appearing on his solemn face. The picture he took of you that day the both of you were sick. There was so much movement and color in this photo; your nose looked exactly like Rudolf’s, your eyes were puffy from your lack of sleep due to your difficulty to breathe properly, your mouth opened in a weird way because he snapped the picture while you were talking. A normal person would find you completely appalling, yet Jaemin treasured this photo in his heart because through the lens of his own eyes, you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

This is exactly how he felt. If anyone would ask him how he felt about you, he would show them this exact picture. All his emotions were captured perfectly in this random snapshot of your life with him. A single moment in time hiding an entire relationship only available to the two of you. No one else would understand. No one but you and him.

Jaemin hated himself for keeping distance from you. The physical distance was hard enough to deal with on its own, but the mental distance was what killed him the most. He wished you knew how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you and how much he hoped that one day he could say all of this without fear of rejection. Your actions were enough for him to understand that the same feelings he had for you were reciprocated, yet the constant fear of misunderstanding held him back from acting on his emotions.

He needed to take small steps at a time. With you being in Canada and Jaemin being in Korea, he wanted to, at least, get you to start talking to him again. Jaemin realized that he was in the wrong, it was his responsibility to make things right. He thought his reactions were justified then, but now he had no excuse for excluding you from his life before you even did anything to leave from it.

I don’t have my way with words, but I will try, he thought, keeping mental notes of what he would say to you first thing tomorrow morning in his attempt to compose a readable email. Jaemin drifted away to a lovely, peaceful sleep, one he hadn’t had in weeks, dreaming of you and only you.

Saturday, February 21st, 1998

Mark’s lips were softly pressing on yours, moving rhythmically in a slow yet passionate motion, his hand gently cupping your cheek. You played with his hair, tangling your fingers between short strands falling at the back of his head and scratching the nape of his neck in between. You had been kissing nonstop for over 20 minutes now, and the temperature of his room started feeling warmer than before.

Pulling away from Mark’s lips with a last loud smooch, you let your head fall slightly back, breathing heavily through your mouth. Mark opened his eyes in surprise, his bottom lip, swollen and pink, falling into a nervous frown. “Everything okay, love?” he asked in a raspy tone, his hand falling from your face and dropping to his side.

You smiled. “I got kinda tired there, Mark. I felt like I was suffocating,” you said, fanning yourself with your hands to create some air.

Mark’s expression turned into a smug one. “I really took your breath there, huh? Sorry, love,” he smirked and leaned closer to you, pressing a soft peck on your temple before wrapping his arm around the small of your back. The familiarity of his touch spread warmth all over your body, the scent of his freshly washed clothes calming the storm inside your mind as you let yourself melt into his embrace. The old bed inside his dorm squeaked at the sudden movement of your body.

You and Mark had been dating for a week. He asked you to be his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day, cliché. But you found this action extremely adorable and that was purely because it was Mark Lee the one who did it. 

The two of you had gone out initially as friends, to comfort each other for being single on the day of love. For the past month you were in Vancouver, Mark was the only person you came this close with. While you were hanging around large groups of exchange students from all over the world, none of them stuck with you the way Mark did. He was there for you all the time, helping you adjust to the new place at first, introducing you to his friends and keeping you company during lunch and dinner so that you wouldn’t have to sit and eat alone. He was always there.

You hadn’t realized your growing feelings for him until the moment he blurted out the question. “Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” That’s all he said. He didn’t have to say anything more. It was something in the way his bambi eyes glimmered under the streetlamp that illuminated the sharp features of his adorable face, his crispy delicate voice asking you with so much tenderness hiding in his tone, the snow falling and landing in tiny snowflakes on his damp wavy bangs. Mark looked at you as if he treasured you in his eyes and heart; he waited patiently for your response, taking in your appearance as if he was taking a picture with his eyes. For the very first time in a month, it was the only day you didn’t think about Jaemin at all.

You said yes in an instant. Mark scooped you up in his arms, laughing awkwardly at the disbelief of what had just happened. He spun you around in the snow, holding you tight in his arms and wishing you would never let go. He was beaming with happiness and his radiant energy transferred to you, smiling so wide your cheeks went numb. The moment your lips touched, you were sure that this day was the warmest day of winter.

That night, Mark took you back to your dorm, not being able to let you go until you closed the door to your apartment. That very same night, you filled your notebook with poems. You stayed up all night, pouring yourself on the paper, the pen in your hands running fast across the lines of the pages, filling the blank space with nothing but emotions. All the things you kept bottled up inside your heart finally resonated in your mind. The realization hit you like a snowstorm, there was a tornado of emotions building up inside you all along, and it took one simply phrased question from Mark to let it all out.

The last time you were standing on a snowy street was back in December in Seoul, when Jaemin left you alone with the coldest heart and stalactite tears. This painful memory, although very recent, was luckily replaced by one of the happiest experiences you’ve ever had, when Mark confessed his feelings for you on the snowy streets of Vancouver.

You didn’t like to compare Mark to Jaemin. But at the same time, the comparison was unavoidable. Everything Mark was, Jaemin wasn’t. The two of them were comically the opposite of the other and you couldn’t help but notice the different versions of yourself that each one of them brought out. While Jaemin was steadily trying to open you up to the best version of yourself, Mark was highlighting the already existing good version.

You hated how much alike you and Jaemin were, you only realized this once you warmed up to Mark. When you first met Jaemin, you were instantly attracted to him because of how different from you he seemed. The confident aura around him, the smugness he carried himself with, his flirty nature were all characteristics you would never have. Once you got close to him, though, you realized that he was so much more than what he presented himself to be. And the fact that both of you had issues communicating with other people made you so similar in character that everything else didn’t matter.

You shared the same mindset with Jaemin, but your views of the world were different. He offered you his own perspective of things, and you offered him yours. You would spend hours bickering about your different opinions which most of the time resulted in Jaemin convincing you to view things from the brighter side. Yet your beliefs originated from the same place; an overly romanticized view of the world.

You and Jaemin were polar opposite when it came to everything else but the emotional aspect of your personalities. Both of your inability to communicate in a healthy way was probably the reason why you couldn’t understand each other, even after you became so comfortable around each other’s presence. Perhaps your expressing of your emotions wasn’t as transparent as you thought it was.

Maybe this was the reason why you found such comfort in Mark now. You hadn’t heard of Jaemin in months. The only updates you had of him were through Yerim and Jisung, who claimed that Jaemin was hanging out less with them now and that he became suspiciously introverted. They also told you that Jaemin asked about you a lot, but they couldn’t figure out why he didn’t ask you directly about your wellbeing.

That’s why Mark was a big emotional support for you. You weren’t as open with him as you were with Jaemin, but part of it was probably because Mark was so expressive and open to talk about everything he thought or felt. He made communication so much easier this way, so you were content with keeping things to yourself, like you always have, and the only one who had access to your emotional state was you and the silly poem-filled notebook.

Mark was slowly dragging his fingers down your hair, as you rested your head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind, love?” Mark said, his eyes searching your thoughtful ones.

“Nothing,” you replied nonchalantly, eyes vacant staring at nothing in particular.

Mark leaned his head to meet your face, seeing your empty expression. “Alright, there’s clearly something bothering you, so tell me, talk to me,” Mark said, gently lifting your head to meet him at eye level.

“You know I’m not good with that stuff, Mark,” you said and he huffed. “I know, but please. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I’ll listen,” Mark encouraged you and you found him cute for trying to help you speak your mind, even though his attempts were completely useless.

You remained silent for a few seconds. Sighing, opening and closing your mouth, Mark noticed your discomfort and the struggle to speak. Cupping your face with the palms of his flimsy hands, he turned your face towards him. “I know this is hard for you, so let’s play a game. I like to call this game, ‘what color is your emotion’,” he said and you giggled loudly.

Mark scrunched his nose as a tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He let go of your face and grabbed your hands, resting them on top of his lap as he drew circles around the back of your hands with his thumb. “So, tell me,” he started, “what color is your emotion?” he asked, the smile still evident in his small face.

You thought hard about it. Searching all over Mark’s room, you tried to find the color that best described your state of emotions at that moment. Mark’s room was full of personality, unlike Jaemin’s. He had painted the walls himself a shade of light beige, adorned with posters of his favorite superheroes along with quotes he cut out from his literature books. The chair of his desk was piled up with worn clothes he didn’t have the time to wash and his shoes were all lined in the small empty space between his desk and the moldy wall. The bookshelves hanging above the desk were filled with books and comics, which he had organized so neatly it reminded you of a library. Beside the creaky bed covered in a plaid blanket, he kept his beloved acoustic guitar. The building was old, but Mark had managed to bring out some freshness through his personal touches.

“My emotion right now is blue,” you said after a while and Mark gulped, his previously smiley face turning stone cold.

“B-But I thought you were having fun,” he trailed off, moving his hands away from yours. “Did I do anything wrong?” he asked, worried.

You smiled and shook your head, taking his hands in your again. “No, silly. I don’t mean blue as sad. Although I think there’s some melancholy in how I’m feeling. I miss home sometimes. But I meant blue as in calm. Did you know that blue can also symbolize calmness and serenity?” you said and Mark looked at you completely baffled.

“Yeah, I knew that, but that’s not the first thing that came to mind,” Mark said. “I’m glad you feel calm with me, and I’m sorry you miss home”.

“You know,” you said after a couple of seconds, “I never saw blue as a happy color. It always carried so much sadness for me. A friend of mine told me it can mean calmness too. He says it’s supposed to bring you peace and tranquility,” you said and Mark smirked.

“He? You didn’t mention any friends other than Yerim and Jising,” he said and you smiled. “Well, yeah, it just wasn’t brought up. His name is Jaemin. Although we haven’t talked in months so things are a bit weird between us,” you said and Mark got up from the bed, moving to sit at his desk chair, throwing a pair of pants on the floor to make room for him to sit. 

“So…Nothing happened between you and him? Like, romantically,” Mark asked, crossing his arms in defense. You laughed awkwardly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. This question was more complicated to answer than what he thought.

“No” you said sternly, a tone you used more to convince yourself rather than Mark. “He’s just a friend. Nothing else,” you said. Liar.

Mark’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but something in his eyes betrayed his true thoughts. It was the first time you had ever mentioned Jaemin to Mark, but you didn’t think he would feel threatened by another guy. His eyes were filled with flames.

“It’s my turn now,” you said with a sigh, grabbing the spider pillow on Mark’s bed and throwing it playfully at him. Mark’s reflections were fast, catching it in the air with one hand. “What color is your emotion?” you asked, voice hinting a glimpse of fear.

He placed the pillow on his lap and looked at you with the same perplexed eyes he had earlier, gritting his teeth, before speaking with the raspiest tone. 

“Dark green”.

Tuesday, March 17th, 1998

“What’s with all this gloominess, lover boy?” Yerim asked Jaemin, flicking her finger at his forehead to grab his attention. Jisung, although busy and occupied with doodling random things on the page margins of the book he was trying to read, winced at the sharp tapping sound.

“Nothing really to smile about,” Jaemin said, shrugging, his eyes focused on nothing in particular, void of any sign of emotion.

Yerim started laughing hysterically, hitting Jaemin’s shoulder during her laughing outburst. Jisung hesitantly looked up from his book, smiling awkwardly in an attempt to catch up with what was going on between his other two friends, muttering a soft ‘what happened’ with a breathy voice.

Jaemin didn’t flinch at all with Yerim’s reaction. He started twiddling his thumbs, lowering his sorrowful gaze at his lap, trying to avoid the confrontation that was about to come.

Ever since Jaemin found out about your relationship with Mark, he’s had a hard time enjoying himself in life. As dramatic as it sounded, when he found out that Mark wasn’t just a friend but he was your boyfriend, he realized that whatever it was he was feeling for you ran deeper than he thought. He tried to capture this feeling with pictures. Carrying his camera with him everywhere he went, he took pictures of whatever he felt like was mirroring his current emotional state, even if it was the most random object or place or person or food or clothes. Looking back at his collection of photos, all his recent ones captured, in one way or another, the exact same feeling; heartbreak.

Jaemin was punishing himself for feeling heartbroken. He tried to convince himself he didn’t have the right to feel this way. He never had you in the first place. He blamed himself for not making good use of all the time he had with you to express himself more clearly. He hated himself for being so selfless back then, and he hated himself for being so selfish now. 

Jaemin never sent you that email he wrote. He was afraid of you feeling repulsed by him. He didn’t have any excuse for his behavior, and by sending you a crappy email of him trying to apologize he thought it made him seem desperate and insincere. He kept putting it off, saying that one day he’ll find the courage to do it. He missed you more than he wished to admit, and it was killing him that he couldn’t have you near him either physically or mentally. Once Yerim broke the news of you having a boyfriend in Canada, it was a complete dealbreaker.

He didn’t have to voice out his feelings for you. His reactions to things betrayed everything. Yerim very easily caught on to how Jaemin was feeling for you, although she was a bit ignorant about it at first. After Yerim confronted Jaemin about it, he started hanging out with her and Jisung again, and even grew much closer with them too. They liked Jaemin. They realized he was actually very good company, like you had said, and started to see the side of him you always talked to them about. Even Jisung became comfortable around Jaemin to the point they had no problem teasing each other about nonsense.

Yet your absence was sensed deeply. Yerim, although very close with Jisung and slowly becoming close with Jaemin, missed the feeling of having her girl best friend around. Jisung missed his friend who acted like his good older sister who counterbalanced the evil big sister nature that Yerim radiated. Jaemin, most of all, missed the person who highlighted the best of him and the person he fell madly in love with.

The group of friends was having a picnic at the campus’ hill. Yerim said that the first sunny day of spring needed to be celebrated. March graced himself with the usual weather instability, with the cold nights and rainy mornings which mostly resembled autumn rather than spring. Every single day of March it had been raining non stop, the rain drops falling from dark clouds covering the vastness of blue placidity that usually describes the sky, transforming the atmosphere into an abyssal calamity that could only be stopped by the sun’s miraculous appearance. Jaemin thought about how much the weather inspired you and smiled bitterly to himself thinking about the connotations you would make when you related the weather with your feelings. It’s a habit he adopted too when he considered the pictures he took.

Jaemin cleared his throat, interrupting Yerim’s laughing outburst. “Don’t laugh, Yerim. You know how much I miss her. She’s probably hanging out with this Mark guy now, and he’s probably telling her jokes which she pretends to find funny. And if we take into account that it’s night time in Canada now, I don’t even wanna think about what they could be doing,” he said, his monotonous voice making Yerim laugh even harder. Jisung brought his fist to mouth, covering a stifled laugh that threatened to come out.

“People can do the thing you think about even during the day, virgin. Even Jisung knows this,” Yerim told Jaemin in between her laughs and Jaemin glared at her. “I’m not a virgin, you know,” he said but Yerim dismissed him. Yerim earned a surprised glare from Jisung too, who was called out without even saying a single word.

Yerim sighed, reaching over to Jaemin to rub his back gently. He visibly relaxed at the touch of comfort, taking a deep breath and raising his head to look up at the gloomy sky mirroring his feelings, batting his long eyelashes to prevent his own downpour falling from his cloudy eyes. “I miss her too, you know,” Yerim said and Jaemin nodded.

“I was the one who convinced to go follow her dreams and now I’m complaining about her being on the other side of the world,” Jaemin said in a low voice after a few beats, and the two friends nodded. “Why am I sad now? I should be happy for her, this is all so selfish. I keep thinking about everything I told her before she left and I just wish I could take it all back, I was being mean because I was scared of losing her,” he continued his confession and Yerim leaned her head on his shoulder, pouting.

“You know what, Jaem,” Yerim started, raising her head to look at her friend, “fuck the past. You keep thinking about the past like it’s something you can erase and rewrite. But you can’t, so let it go. You said things you didn’t mean and it was all a projection of your fears. So instead of whining about it, think about ways to make it up to her,” she said and Jisung hummed, widening his eyes in surprise at the girl’s unexpected wise piece of advice.

“What if she stays with that other guy? What if he treats her better and she loves him more?” Jaemin’s jealousy made him insecure, his eyes burning with anger and the threatening falling of tears.

“Dude, if she loves you, she’ll come around. I’m sure she will,” Jisung said with confidence that even took himself aback and everyone else nodded in agreement.

Tuesday, April 21st, 1998

“Let us go then, you and I, / When the evening is spread out against the sky / Like a patient etherized upon a table;” the middle-aged woman started reciting and you let yourself get lost in the words.

Despite the weather being deep into spring, the only thing resembling the blossoming season was the sun peaking through the freshly cleaned window, hitting Mark’s concentrated face in a way it turned his eyes into pools of honey. His hair, grown out of the boyish undercut he had when you first met him, was longer now, brushing the nape of neck.

You were sitting next to each other cross-legged with your big plaid scarf spread above your legs. The temperatures were significantly higher than they were in winter, yet the Canadian mountain climate was sensed even inside the back room of the cozy café. It wasn’t as good as ‘Caramel Craze’, but it was the one that came closest to the feeling your comfort place back in Seoul gave you.

You and Mark decided to join a book club three weeks ago. At the end of each week, the book club would meet at different spots around Vancouver and every member would read a poem or a passage from a book, give recommendations and start discussions around different literary pieces. Even though this wasn’t related to your field of studies, being surrounded by people who valued literature and its craft as much as you did filled you with happiness and content you couldn’t find in anything else, not even in fashion design.

“That was ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’, hope you enjoyed it,” the middle-aged woman finished reciting her poem of choice and everybody clapped as she sat down on the floor. 

“Did you know this poem?” Mark whispered towards you, pushing his glasses further into his face because they had slid down his nose. You shook your head and he couldn’t help but crack a smile at your wowed expression. The poem was beautiful.

As soon as the applause came to an end, you raised your hand to ask permission to speak. The coordinator of the book club was a girl only a few years older than you. As you waited for her to notice you, you carefully scanned her outfit which was particularly creative today, keeping mental notes of it so that you could draw something similar later.

“I find the message behind this poem devastatingly beautiful,” you started after you were given permission. A few people hummed positively, urging you to continue. Mark’s warm gaze was fully attended to you, crossing his arms in anticipation of what you were about to say.

“All of the speaker’s anxieties and preoccupations of his inner life, his romantic hesitations and regrets, everything was voiced out so beautifully to the point it becomes devastating. Hence my description,” you said, averting your gaze to your lap. “I loved the line ‘Do I dare / Disturb the universe? / In a minute there is time / For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse’, I think it perfectly captures fate and our inability to change it because everything can have a different outcome depending on what time brings and what time cannot take back. I don’t know, I think it’s perfectly worded,” you said and noticed a few approving looks at the other book club members’ faces.

Turning towards Mark, you noticed a ridiculously wide smile plastered across his small face, to the point you didn’t think a person could smile this wide. “Wow,” he breathed out, “you’re becoming even better than me. Are you sure you don’t wanna pursue this thing professionally?” he joked and you giggled, yet something in your heart sank for a moment.

“I just expressed what the poem made me feel,” you said. And it was true. You and Mark were spending so much time together to the point you were inseparable. You were surprised how neither of you had grown sick of one another at this point. Most of the time, you would spend hours cramped up inside either of your dorm rooms, reading and writing poems and songs for hours in between hot makeout sessions and other things. You grew so close to him to the point neither of you hid anything from each other. Ever since you talked to him about your confessional poetry notebook and your struggle with expressing yourself, Mark has made the impossible things possible to help you be at peace with your emotional world and be open with what you feel.

Part of the reason why he suggested that the two of you joined a book club was to see your progress become tangible. You had become profoundly open with him, and his encouraging words kept you wanting to keep on trying more and more. Mark thought that being in a safe space, where you felt the most comfortable in, you would manage to overcome this suppressing state. Once again, like in many other things, he was right.

A man with his little son started reading a passage from a children’s book and his soothing tone made your eyelids flutter as you stifled a yawn. Mark gently wrapped his arm around your waist, bringing you a bit closer to him. You nuzzled your nose against the fuzzy fabric of his sweater, which smelled like a mix of detergent, Mark’s cologne and a slight scent of his skin. He noticed that you started getting sleepy, something that was always betrayed by your clinginess, and he moved his arm to stroke your hair and your back as you rested your head on his chest. An old lady noticed your affectionate state and flashed a warm smile at Mark. He returned the kind gesture before leaning to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

Mark’s attention was back at the man reading the book, trying his best to make sense of what the story was about based on the context. As you were laying on his chest, the faint sound of his steady heartbeat acted as a lullaby, becoming the background music for the thoughts that occupied your tired brain. As much as the warmth of Mark’s body calmed you down and eased your consciousness, it brought your senses into reality at the same time. No matter how much you wanted to freeze frame this moment and forever stay in his arms, you knew that sooner or later this moment would come to an end and eventually cease to exist. You would have to go back home.

Defining home has become difficult for you now. Your whole life, your home was Seoul. Home was your family back in Korea, your best friends for life Yerim and Jisung, Jaemin. You remember how hard it was for you to let them go, but you knew that your leaving was only temporary and you would soon go back to them, go back home.

Yet home took a different face now. Home was engulfed in Mark’s face, who stood by you throughout the journey of finding yourself in the premises of an unknown land. You grew to love Canada, you became used to the habits of Vancouver’s local residents, you met people from all over the world who shared their experiences with you, your horizons broadened in ways you didn’t even imagine they could when you were limited to the restricted views of the place you grew up in. You had grown so used to everything new around you that even the thought of having to go back to Korea at the beginning of summer saddened you.

Your thoughts momentarily fleeted to the face of a boy you held dearly in your heart. You hadn’t spoken to Jaemin in months. Neither of you made any attempt to initiate any type of conversation, so the air between you two remained foggy like a Halloween night. The opaque veil of grey clouds that rested upon you spread all the way across the ocean, reaching the heart of a boy who bore heartbreak without you even knowing.

You hated that Jaemin still had a place in your mind and heart when you knew you loved Mark a lot. You didn’t dare to admit it, you were scared that at times you wished it was Jaemin who kissed you instead of Mark, you wished it was Jaemin the one who you would come home to after your classes and talk about your day, you wished everything that Mark did it was Jaemin in his place. A part of you felt guilty for even thinking this, let alone wanting this, and you despised yourself for betraying Mark’s love and trust like this. Jaemin probably didn’t want to do anything with you after you left things hanging this way, so why even bother with him?

But you had come to terms with the fact that everything you did in Canada would be temporary. The initial fireworks of excitement died down after a couple of months, and reality kept reminding you that all good things come to an end. It would realistically be difficult to maintain a long-distance relationship with a boy on the other side of the globe. You loved Mark but you slowly had to learn how to unlove him. This way leaving would hurt you a bit less.

Mark’s soft caressing of your hair shot waves of safety over your body, the man’s voice reading the book was simply a bedtime story to your ears. Before you slowly drifted away to a peaceful sleep, behind your eyes flashed the image of a certain platinum-haired boy, wishing that it was him holding you to sleep at that moment.

oh how much i love you seoul! even though i left you oh how much i miss you! walking on every filthy pavement in hongdae, crossing every busy itaewon street, wandering around every beautiful night in gangnam — but you left me too. oh! how many days and nights will i spend without you so that we can meet again? your presence is always mirrored  in every place that i see

Friday, May 8th, 1998

The chopsticks he was holding cluttered against each other as he reached down his bowl to grab a bite-sized portion of rice, bringing it hastily to his mouth. He chewed the food obnoxiously, not caring about looking polite or well-behaved, his ears ringing for a reason unknown to him. The girl sitting across from him on the restaurant table hadn’t touched her food yet. She was too busy running her mouth nonstop ever since they arrived at the cozy traditional place.

“So, what do you think about all that, Bun Bun?” the girl asked, batting her eyelashes in anticipation. Jaemin stared at her but his eyes weren’t looking at her. His ears weren’t listening to her. His mind wasn’t present at the moment. He continued chewing his rice, swallowing with a loud gulp. He reached for the glass of water on his left, chugging the cool liquid down his dry throat. With a thud, Jaemin placed the glass on the table, licking his teeth in an attempt to clean them from any remaining food that could be stuck in between. With a click of his tongue, he addressed the girl in front of him for the first time since the food arrived at their table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Minjeong. You see, I was busy eating. Something you didn’t do because you talk all the damn time,” Jaemin said and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Oh for God’s sake, Bun Bun, I told you about this last week too. Remember my friend Soyeon who was dating that guy from Chemistry whose name I cannot remember now but he wears glasses and his hair is like dyed blonde with a side part and he…” Minjeong started and Jaemin’s ears started ringing again.

For about a month now, Jaemin has been going on dates with a girl from his journalism classes, Minjeong. The girl has been eyeing him for quite some time now, but Jaemin never paid her any attention, neither during classes nor after that. When she found the courage to go up to him and ask him out, both she and Jaemin himself were surprised he actually said yes.

Even more surprised were none other than Yerim and Jisung, whose eyeballs practically fell out of their faces when Jaemin came into ‘Caramel Craze’ holding Minjeong’s hand. Jisung was very curious about how everything happened, but he never cared to ask Jaemin about it, not because he feared his reaction but because it made Jisung himself uncomfortable. He didn’t want to pressure Jaemin to talk about it because he knew that whatever Jaemin’s reason behind this was, he would talk about it once he felt ready. Yerim’s nosy nature, however, urged her to learn as much as she possibly could. One warm spring evening, right before ‘Caramel Craze’ got rid of all its customers at the dusk of day, Yerim yanked Jaemin down a table and began interrogating him.

“What’s up with you?” she snarled, eyes darting him up and down. Jaemin sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, preparing himself for Yerim’s upcoming rant.

“Look, I’ll break up with her, okay? Not that we’re actually dating but…” Jaemin trailed off and Yerim’s eyes softened, holding herself back from screaming at him like an overprotective mother once she saw his hands tremble on the table.

“It’s just that I will never have a chance with Y/n. She’s coming back next month but at what cost? I never apologized to her because I’m a coward, and now I can’t bring myself to face her. She has moved on anyway, so I must do the same,” he said and Yerim reached across the table to grab Jaemin’s hands, rubbing soft circles to ease his trembling.

“I’m sorry, Jaem,” she started, “it’s that, I-” Yerim struggled to form her thoughts. She inhaled with her eyes closed and opened them slowly once she exhaled, looking at her friend with a sadness filled with sympathy. “I don’t know if that’s good for you. Of course you can’t wait for Y/n all your life but-” Yerim pressed her lips shut.

“But what?” Jaemin whispered, removing his hands from Yerim’s grip.

“I want both of you to be happy. If you choose to move on, then I won’t stop you. I support both of you and you’d better apologize when Y/n comes back, I can’t stand seeing two of my best friends act like total strangers,” Yerim said and Jaemin flashed her one of his widest and brightest smiles which hid a malicious smirk behind it.

“You think I’m your friend?” he asked her, earning an eye-roll from Yerim as she stood up to leave.

“Jisung has to close up the place, we’d better go. And if you want to move on, at least pick a girl who’s not that annoying,” she said and Jaemin laughed at this remark.

He didn’t really think through Yerim’s advice, dismissing it at the time saying that Minjeong wasn’t that bad. But he started to realize that Yerim was, as always, right after all, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly that drew him towards Minjeong. He kept regretting asking her out time and time again for dinner when he couldn’t bear listening to her talk. After giving it some thought, Jaemin came to the conclusion that Minjeong was just the only available option for him at the moment.

Jaemin didn’t like the fact that he was leading the girl on. Minjeong was clearly into him and his behavior towards her was inexplicably awful. On the outside, he seemed like the perfect guy any girl could potentially call her boyfriend; he took her out on the regular, he waited for her to finish her classes, held her hand in public and caressed her hair on the weirdly windy days of May to prevent it from getting tangled. On paper, and on image, he was perfect. In fact, however, behind all the nosy eyes running their mouths, Jaemin was trapped in a relationship he forced himself to be in. He was so bored of Minjeong to the point he dreaded spending time alone with her. He had to pretend to be the popular campus crush that everyone else around him always knew him as, and all this acting had him exhausted by the end of the day.

It was very pretentious of him to say this but he became a different person once he met you. It was a blessing and a curse for him. Sometimes he wishes he had never picked up that book for you in the library and sometimes he keeps thinking of the possible turns his life would have taken if he had paid you no mind at all that very same day. 

The thought of you tortured him. It pained him that he couldn’t have you anymore, yet he didn’t have the right to think like this because he was the one who messed things up. Now all he could do to make himself feel at least slightly better was to find someone else.

Minjeong was the first person that came to him. Jaemin saw the chance and he took it, wasting no time to ponder over whether he liked her enough or not or if they would be a good match together. None of these things mattered to him; he would learn how to like it, he would eventually grow feelings for her and they would find ways to fit their personalities and interests like pieces of a puzzle and at some point his attraction for Minjeong would grow and grow until his feelings for you became so suppressed and then completely vanished.

This was his plan. But everything Minjeong did, Jaemin would always find a way to compare her to you.

Minjeong kept on rambling about whatever drama she was interested in. She made short pauses to eat a little, although her bites were so small it would take her hours to finish her meal. Jaemin nodded or hummed from time to time in an attempt to show her a little interest, to make her feel that he was present.

Jaemin’s attention shifted for a moment to the world outside, his mind void of any preoccupations, eyes resting on the cherry blossom trees and the people walking around them aimlessly, admiring the beauty of nature. The season of love was at its peak; the flowers were blooming in every corner of Seoul and for a fleeting moment Jaemin wondered how the scenery in front of him would look like through your eyes, through your own lens, through the ink of your pen.

“Bun Bun, can you take some pictures of me?” Minjeong shook Jaemin out of his daydreaming state and he blinked.

With a deep sigh, Jaemin pinched the bridge of his nose, offering Minjeong a sad smile. “Ugh, um- sorry love I don’t bring my camera. I forgot,” he apologized and winced at the use of the pet name he used.

“You never bring it when I ask you to! I swear it’s like you forget it on purpose,” Minjeong whined and Jaemin pressed his lips in a tight smile. “I know, sorry. Promise I’ll bring it next time, okay?” he said, hinting at a hopeful undertone in his voice. He looked at Minjeong tentatively, searching for an answer in her eyes. She held eye contact with Jaemin for a few seconds, her expression stoic and still like a museum painting. Jaemin pouted softly at her and Minjeong rolled her eyes at him for the second time tonight. 

“Whatever,” she muttered under her breath and reached for her purse to pull out her lip gloss. Jaemin leaned back to his chair, sighing in frustration at his actions. His gaze rested briefly at his backpack spread next to his lap, the round camera lens staring back at him.

She wouldn’t look as pretty, anyway.

Sunday, May 31st, 1998

“I think we should break up,” you said sharply, exhaling deeply in an attempt to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

Mark’s eyes widened in surprise, and you swore you saw them turn glassy under the artificial lighting of your dorm room. “What?” his voice trembled, searching for your wavering gaze which you averted anywhere you could but his eyes.

“I said we should break up,” you repeated, clearing your throat. You never had to have a talk as hard as this one and you definitely weren’t very happy with the news you had to break into the boy you devoted your whole heart to for the past four months. 

“I-I don’t get it,” Mark started, his voice uneasy. “I mean, technology has advanced, like, we can keep in touch even when you’re away, right? I don’t get it,” Mark ran his hands through his hair, pacing around the tiny room which felt to him extremely smaller than he thought it actually was.

“I know,” you started, taking a step closer to him, reaching for his hand. Your fingers felt his touch only for part of a second as they brushed, Mark was too quick to yank his arm back creating distance between the two of you.

His reaction was perfectly reasonable and you expected him to respond the exact way he did; knowing Mark all these months and spending the majority of your time with him, it was safe to say that you knew him like the back of your hand. You were sure he would try to find a solution to the problem, brainstorming even the dumbest ideas just to make things work, just to keep you by his side.

Both of you knew that one day you’d have to go back to Korea and Mark wouldn’t be able to follow along. What he didn’t count for was how soon that day would come.

“Listen, Mark, I know you’re frustrated-”

“You’re still in love with that other guy, aren’t you?” Mark scoffed, giggling out of nervousness.

“Where does that even come from?” you asked, eyebrows drawn.

“I’m not dumb, Y/n, I mean, come on. I’ve seen how your face literally lights up when you talk about him. It doesn’t really take a genius to know,” Mark spared you a glance before he turned around to look outside the window.

It was ironic; in a few hours, May would finish his yearly duties and give his place to June, who would initiate the beginning of summer. The sun wouldn’t set until the early evening, the breeze would be welcoming enough for strolls around the fully bloomed parks and everyone would be carefree, looking forward to a few months of rest and relaxation before the start of the new semester of the academic year. If you didn’t have to leave in two days, you would rather spend your time walking hand in hand with Mark, talking about nonsense. Instead, you called him up to the old dorm room to break things off with him.

You didn’t blame him for reacting this way, you expected it. But you never thought that he would bring up Jaemin. There was no reason for him to do so, but he did anyway and suddenly everything made sense.

Mark was jealous of Jaemin. And it made him feel insecure knowing that you had feelings for both of them.

Which was true. You don’t know how Mark figured it out but he actually knew you better than you knew yourself. He could read through you just as easily as you could read through him. You just weren’t aware of how strong your feelings for Jaemin remained still, that Mark became insecure of your feelings for him. No wonder he thought of Jaemin as the reason you wanted to break up with him.

You couldn’t even lie to Mark about this either. After you mentioned Jaemin once, you found it easier to bring his name up in conversation along with Yerim and Jisung. He was one of your friends after all. Although you doubted he still liked you as a friend, let alone romantically.

You grew to love Mark a lot all these months. It was very hard for you to separate from him too, you didn’t want to break things off but realistically a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work and you were afraid that with Jaemin in your presence back in Seoul, things would be even harder for you to handle. You didn’t want to deceive Mark when clearly your heart was split in two.

You lowered your gaze to your feet, raising them up to your tip toes and back down. You huffed, turning to face Mark’s slouchy figure. Your eyes rested on his shoulders, contemplating whether you should go rub them in comfort or whether this act of affection would stir more hate in him for you. 

“I love you too much Mark, it’s best if I let you go,” you said and heat spread all over your reddened face. Mark whipped his head back at the sudden sound of your upright confession. “It’s not the time to admit something like this Y/n, you’re breaking me,” he whispered in a breath.

You noticed a stain on his cheek, like a shadow of a running river with crystal clear waters. You didn’t realise that he was crying. You took a hesitant step towards him, lifting your arm to touch him, feel him any way you could, but you were quick to keep it to yourself.

You softly cleared your throat. Mark wasn’t speaking. “We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, and I hate that it has to be this way because you taught me things about myself. You taught me how to express myself, communicate my feelings, live life without any concerns, follow my dreams and do what makes me happy. I don’t have the words to thank you enough for all of that,” you said and Mark nodded softly, a lingering question falling from his lips.

“So what changed?” was all he said with a desperate sigh.

You didn’t have any good answer to his question. Anything you could come up with at that moment sounded like a lazy excuse. You used distance as the most reasonable one, when in fact the thought of seeing Jaemin again and having all your past feelings for him resurface was what pushed to end things with Mark, even though you were unsure of Jaemin’s feelings for you.

You were willing to take the risk. You were thankful for Mark, you were beyond thankful for everything he taught you about yourself. You learned how to handle your feelings without fear of expressing them and you learned that being loved can be as easy as loving someone, all because of Mark. It was completely and utterly wrong of you to use all of this experience you had with Mark to learn how to love Jaemin easier. You despised yourself for that, having to fully devote your heart to one person when you were confused about who you wanted to devote your heart to.

“I’m so confused, Mark. Honestly. I don’t want you to think I used you because this is not true at all. I'm trying very hard to be optimistic but unfortunately I’m thinking reasonably this time. It’s best if we part ways,” you trailed off the last words.

Mark shook his head, nipping at his bottom lip. Running a hand through his hair, he started pacing in circles around himself. “No, Y/n, I think you’re thinking with your heart right now, because reason would urge you to stay with me. Your heart tells you it belongs to someone else, and this doesn’t happen to be me,” he said, stopping to finally look you in your eyes.

You stood still, frozen in place, keeping your eyes locked with his. In an alternative scenario, Mark would describe you as a newly blossomed flower that didn’t know which way to lean to look at the sun yet. In this scenario, you looked like a stone plaque standing in his way of moving forward.

You opened your mouth to speak but Mark was ahead of you. “I love you, Y/n. And I always will. You taught me things about myself too. For the past five months I’ve known you, I found myself smiling more, looking forward to the new beginnings every morning because I knew I would share all my happiness and sadness with you. We understand each other, Y/n. And because we do, I understand that you are conflicted right now. I respect your decision so that’s why I won’t fight you, I know you won’t change your mind,” he said and you both giggled.

Mark nodded his head a couple of times as if he was having an inner monologue. “I’ll miss you, you know? Promise we won’t be those exes who never speak to each other again. I would hate that. I’d be delighted to hear your news, to know that you are doing well, to know that you are still following your dreams, ” he said and your eyes stung, blurring your vision.

“I promise, Mark. You’re too precious for me to lose you entirely,” you said and he hesitantly took a few steps closer to you. In your current heartbroken state, you believed you would actually manage to keep this promise. But time would eventually heal this wound and you couldn’t bring yourself to say this to Mark.

the prettiest snowflake melted into the river; winter into spring

“C-Can I, um, can I at least kiss you, once? One last time,” Mark pleaded you with his eyes and you threw yourself at him, beating him to it by pressing your lips onto his.

Mark responded to your touch in an instant, cupping your face with both of his hands, kissing you back with so much passion it made the kiss look desperate. For a fleeting moment, the entire time you spent with him flashed before your eyes and you felt luckier than ever that you had met a person like him.

You parted your lips for his, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. You looked at him in his glimmering eyes, before giving him one last peck. “Take care, Mark. I love you,” you whispered, softly caressing his cheek.

Mark nodded and took a step back, grabbing his things to leave. As he approached the door, he stopped in his tracks. “Will he love you like I do?” he asked, locking his eyes with your teary ones.

You thought for a second. “I hope he does. At least I know I love him like I love you,” you said and felt your heart mend, as if the broken pieces found their way back to each other.

Mark smiled softly, reaching the doorknob. “If this is what you truly want, if this is what your heart really aches for and desires, then I won’t dare disturb the universe”.

Wednesday, June 3rd, 1998

The atmosphere around you hung heavy as you walked past the busy crowd of Seoul, making regular breathing feel like exhausting exercise. The humidity of summertime in Korea left a feeling of a thick lump resting on top of your lungs, paired with your baby hairs sticking everywhere around your sweaty face and neck. This type of weather was the thing you were looking forward to the least on your flight back home, but you kept on trying to convince yourself that summer in the city wasn’t as bad as you remembered. The effort, however, wasn’t very successful, as you immediately started reminiscing about the Vancouver frostiness.

The change of environment was sudden; one day you were at the other side of the globe, watching the flowers bloom in a city that thrives in between snowflakes and icy pavements, and the next day you were back to your core roots, sweat accumulating around every hollow place in your body, in a city that thrives in crunchy orange leaves and soft breezes. You came to understand that in life, you always want what you cannot have.

Through the thick atmosphere hanging above you, you tried to trace with your nostrils the scent that lead you to your inner calmness. It had been six whole months that felt like agonizing eternity since you tasted the specific caramel lattes on your tongue, the enjoyable sweetness of the complementary glucose mixed with the comfortable bitterness of the main ingredient of the drink that couldn’t be compared to any other similar recipes in any coffee shop in the world other than ‘Caramel Craze’. Tracing this beloved scent was particularly harder while walking through a sweaty crowd in one of the busiest streets in Seoul.

Since you stepped foot onto Korean ground, it was like everything you experienced in Canada was wiped off your brain storage. On your entire flight back, you read through the notes you kept about everything that happened so that you could fill in both Yerim and Jisung about all the things you saw there without leaving any details out. Reading back your notes helped you refresh your memory, but your brain at that moment only had room for the memories of two boys, split in half.

You had broken off things with Mark only a couple days before your departure. The decision you made was definite, no matter how much it hurt you and the boy whom you devoted your whole mind and soul to for the past five months. You came back home with the sole purpose of reuniting with the person you loved the most, although you had no idea how to approach the situation.

Fate works in mysterious ways. Walking with your head tilted towards the ground, you swayed your ponytail to the side to fan the back of your neck with your palm. Keeping your eyes glued to your feet, careful with your steps, you bumped into a shoulder, sturdy and equally as sweaty as yours. Lifting your head to apologize, you’re met with the eyes that took up the other half of your brain.

You froze in your place as Jaemin stood in front of you, mouth slightly agape due to his surprise upon seeing you, or because of his fast breathing caused by his rapid steps. You couldn’t tell which one it was. Your heart beat anxiously, sweat turning colder at the sight of the boy you were dreading to meet yet looking forward to meeting. 

Jaemin looked good, but different. His hair had faded into its natural dark brown color, his skin looked slightly tanner than it did in the winter and his shoulders and chest indicated that he particularly worked on building his muscles even more. The black tank top he was wearing was hugging his torso tightly, arms glistening in sweat under the burning sun. Even though he didn’t look exactly the way you remembered him, the way his eyes shined and the smile he tried to suppress once he took in your figure showed you that he still was the same boy you were in love with.

Jaemin lifted his arms in an open gesture, as if he wanted to pull you into his embrace, but he halted his actions by scoffing, finally breaking into a wide but hesitant smile. “You’re back,” he breathed out.

The sound of his voice immediately helped calm down your rapid heartbeat. You missed him. You missed him more than you could imagine, and it took seeing him in person to realise it. Your eyes creased as the corners of your lips lifted up, greeting him back. “I’m back,” you giggled.

Both of you stayed there. Standing still in the midst of the walking crowd, a scene that gave you déjà vu, reminiscent of the moment you parted ways in winter only to recreate it again when the two of you came back for each other. Jaemin lowered his gaze and you started twiddling your thumbs, thinking of what to do or what to say.

“Liste-” Jaemin started.

“So-” you said at the same time. Both of you stopped your sentences abruptly, giggling at the incident. 

Jaemin, with a wave of his arm, gestured towards you. “You can go first,” he said.

“Why didn’t you contact me while I was abroad?” you didn’t waste any second, firing him with the question you always wanted to ask him ever since you stepped foot in your homeland.

Jaemin opened and closed his mouth, sucking in his bottom lip while thinking of what answer to form. An old man passing by yelled something about you blocking the way for those in a hurry, but you didn’t pay him any mind. All you wanted was to hear an answer, any answer that would justify Jaemin’s actions.

“I could say that I was busy with school or that the time zones were weird but that would be the lamest excuse ever and I don’t wanna lie to you. I wasted too much time being a coward that it took me losing you to another guy to realise how much I love you,” Jaemin said in a breath, and you took a small step back, blinking at his blunt and forward confession.

“What are you talking about?” you asked softly, genuinely confused, waiting for an elaborate explanation.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n. I didn’t want you to find out this way but this is exactly the reason I never reached out to you,” he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“T-This d-doesn’t make any sense! At all! You’re confusing me, Jaemin, I…” you trailed off, your turn now to wipe off the sweat caused by your confusion, the humid heatiness of the weather long forgotten.

Jaemin gulped, moving a step forward to close in the gap between your bodies. “The day I invited you over to my dorm room, after we caught a cold because of the heavy rainfall, that’s when I knew. I had fallen in love with you. But I was cherishing your friendship so much I didn’t want to push you away and ruin things if I said anything about it, I was so unsure of your feelings,” he said, taking a deep, shaky breath.

Licking his lips, he continued. “You were so happy when you got the scholarship, it was all you had been thinking about before getting it. And I was rooting for you so much, I always told you how much you deserved it, that you would get it no matter what. But even though I was completely sure you would get it, I hadn’t thought very thoroughly about what I would do once you left,” he said.

Jaemin paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Looking into your softening eyes, he continued his confession. “That’s why I was such a jerk when you announced it to us, that day in the snow. I-I didn’t know what to do, you were slipping away from me and I was completely losing it. It’s such a selfish thing to say and I only realised how awfully I spoke to you until after you were gone,” he ran his fingers through his hair, composing himself.

“And then,” he let out a big sigh, “I learnt that you had a boyfriend. I tried to be happy for you but, to be honest, I was so fucking jealous. I regretted all the time I wasted not talking to you about my feelings but I knew that it was too late to change anything because you didn’t feel the same, and if you did, you had clearly moved on. I even tried dating other people hoping I would forget about you but it didn’t work. In fact, I just broke up with the girl I was seeing. She was boring as fuck, it took me too long to do it because I wanted to keep trying, I was pushing myself to convince my heart and mind to move on, but the truth is, no else can compare to you Y/n. You’re the one I want. I only had the courage to break things off with that girl today because, in the back of my mind, there was a glimmer of hope that when I see you again and explain everything, you might want to try giving me a chance to make up for things and let me treat you like I’m your actual boyfriend,” Jaemin said, breathing heavily after letting out all the thoughts he kept suppressed all this time.

You waited a moment to fully grasp everything. Jaemin loved you. He had always been in love with you. It took him blatantly confessing to you to realise how much in love with him you were too. You thought that whatever it was you were feeling with Mark was love. You loved Mark too, but the feeling of that love was different than what you're feeling right now about Jaemin. So this, this is what love was supposed to feel like. You just knew.

Sighing with a soft smile, you completely closed the gap between you and Jaemin by grabbing the hem at the collar of his tank top, pushing your lips against his. Jaemin reacted in a millisecond, melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you even closer, as close as it was physically possible. Your arms moved to rest on his shoulders, sliding down to his chest. Your lips moved rhythmically, finally tasting the love he had for you. The high temperature in the atmosphere could not be compared to the heat of the moment the two of you shared.

Pulling away to take a few breaths, you looked at Jaemin’s swollen lips and loving gaze. “You finally talked to me about your feelings,” you said and placed a soft peck on his lips before you lifted your toes up and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on top of his shoulder. “And you finally showed me yours,” Jaemin said.

You stayed there, closing your eyes to take in his familiar scent, fully grasping the moment. You were finally able to fully open up your mind and soul to the person you felt the closest to. Your heartbeat had calmed down, your breathing was steady and your mind was at ease. You turn to speak into Jaemin’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine due to the proximity of your bodies. Public display of affection was the last thing on your mind at that moment.

“You know, I broke up with Mark thinking I would come back to you. I was hoping you would accept my feelings even though we had drifted apart these months. We’re such huge idiots, huh?” you said and you felt Jaemin’s chest vibrating as he laughed.

“Remember when you asked me if I knew what a ‘blue person’ was?” you asked him and Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows, although you couldn’t see, but you knew. You came back down on your feet to look at him, keeping your arms around his neck. You gave him a bright smile filled with love, a contagious one, as he pressed his own lips into a tight smile. “I didn’t know what it meant, but when you told me, I knew exactly that you were my blue person, Jaemin,” you said and now it was his turn to respond by locking your lips with his. 

You were both smiling while pressing small soft kisses onto each other’s mouths. You pulled just a little bit back, enough to meet his loving eyes. “I love you, Jaemin,” you confessed, three words that took all of your strength to come out. Jaemin’s eyes lit up, pressing his nose onto yours. “I know that now,” he said.

Jaemin released himself from you and you whined at the sudden lack of his touch. He noticed and immediately grabbed your sweaty palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Come on,” he led the way towards ‘Caramel Craze’, “you have to fill us in with all the details about your studies abroad. Yerim and Jisung will be thrilled,” he said and you leaned into his side, walking together as if not a single day had passed.

you splashed color onto the confused abyss of mine you shed light onto the maze of my soul and you let me see the progress of you doing it — the summer to my winter, the picture of my thoughts, the answer to my question 

Saturday, September 12th, 1998

September was your favorite month of the year. September usually signaled fresh beginnings and change, blended the warmth of summer and the chill of fall, and was the month during which drinking caramel lattes became the most acceptable.

You were holding a paper cup of hot caramel latte on your hand as you walked with slow steps looking at the different photos displayed around the small exhibition hall, with Yerim and Jisung tailing right behind you, each holding a cup of their own drink of choice.

Today was Jaemin’s first ever photo exhibition. Jisung made sure to have the day off from work so that he and Yerim could attend the opening. Still, the three of you stopped by your beloved coffee shop before heading to the exhibition to equip yourselves with your favorite warm drink.

Summer was slowly fading into fall, yet it still left some remnants of the hot and bright moments you shared with Jaemin. You had been officially dating for three months now, and neither of you intended to back out from this relationship anytime soon. Or ever. It became easier to understand each other now; the initial hesitation of speaking your mind or expressing your emotions which engulfed you in the beginning of your friendship had completely vanished the moment Jaemin broke it with his confession back in June. Both of you still struggled with communication, but as soon as you felt Jaemin’s reassuring hand on your timid one, it was as if your heart was released from the shuckles surrounding it and your tongue spoke the words you always wanted to say.

You showed Jaemin your poems. You opened up your most vulnerable self to him and he let you in, embraced you and held you firmly in his arms, all of you. You made sure to equally act as a safe space for him too, letting him in too and keeping him there, too scared to let go and too much in love to hurt him. You were each other’s person.

Yerim and Jisung’s reaction to your relationship was nonexistent; it’s like they were waiting for the moment you and Jaemin finally admitted to your feelings and let your egos aside just for a moment so that your hearts get what they deserve. You swear you saw Yerim wipe a tear when you announced it to them, but she convinced you that the summer wind brought a grit to her eye.

Over the course of summertime, Jaemin expressed his want to quit journalism and pursue photography as his career. He was so confident in taking this decision. He claimed that something inside him clicked, he just knew what was right for him in every aspect of his life. Journalism was what he thought was his passion, what he would love to do for a living, the career path that was guaranteed to make him happy. But when he held the camera in his hands, looked at the world through the camera lens, through his own eyes, he felt as if he could transform the world into anything he wanted. And this is what made him truly happy.

His rebellious spirit went into your own head and you started contemplating whether fashion design was the career for you. After showing Jaemin your poems, he wouldn’t stop saying how talented you are and how much potential these little drabbles of your thoughts have. You weren’t ready to leave school and everything you had worked so hard for behind, so you convinced yourself to push through college and graduate, even if life has other plans laid out for you later on.

So when Jaemin told you he would host his own photography exhibition, you couldn’t help but feel the happiness he radiated at the sound of this announcement. It was a huge step for him, and he could only do it with your help. “I want you to write the captions to my photos. You are the only one who can capture the essence of an image into such few words,” he told you with glistening eyes and the bright smile you fell in love with. You would never decline this offer.

You were standing in the middle of the exhibition hall, where Jaemin had placed the main photo of his collection. An image very familiar to you; you spent hours arguing about whether it was a good idea to include such an intimate picture in a collection for the whole world to see, but Jaemin insisted. “It’s the world seen through my lens. It needs to be included,” he said holding both of your hands dearly, his voice trembling in nervousness.

So here was hanging on the big white wall a collage of two images; a cutout of your sitting figure, teacup in hand accompanied with a puffy face, red nose, mouth open mid-sentence glued on the background of the dark open sea. The caption you chose for this picture was placed underneath it, carved in small italic letters on a glass engraving:

shades of blue; the color of you

You hated this picture. But it was so special to Jaemin. He kept saying how beautiful you looked in it, over and over again. It was raw, unfiltered, it captured reality; it represented the very moment he realised he was in love with you.

You stood in front of the image, taking it in. This was the result of your and Jaemin’s combined love for art and everything it expressed. It was an indicator of the love you two shared. Yerim and Jisung stood on either of your sides, looking at the image with as much appreciation.

“You look a little funny,” Jisung muttered and Yerim didn’t let this comment slip, giving him a light slap at the back of his head.

You giggled at the interaction between your two friends. They still hadn’t seen their own picture, a still image of them bickering about nonsense, with Yerim threatening to throw a huge encyclopedia on Jisung’s head, and Jisung raising up his arms as a shield. They have no idea that Jaemin was quick enough to capture this endearing moment.

“Have you guys seen Jaemin, by any chance?” you asked and Yerim pointed towards the space behind the main exhibit. “He’s over there, with these fancy looking guys,” she said and you nodded, heading towards him.

You approached Jaemin as he shook hands with the two middle-aged men, bidding them goodbye. You slipped your arm around his neck and pulled his free hand, bringing his body closer to yours to peck his lips. His arms easily rested at the small of your back, tracing circles with his thumb.

“Everything is so beautiful, Jaem. I’m so proud of you,” you said softly, feeling his cheeks heat up at the sound of your compliment. “It was all possible because of you, my love. Thank you,” he said, locking his lips with yours once again.

Pulling apart, you grabbed his hand and motioned him to walk around the exhibition hall. “Who were those men, by the way?” you asked out of curiosity and Jaemin’s eyes beamed. “Those were the director of the exhibition and another photographer. He’s professional. They came to congratulate me and I can tell they liked my collection a lot. I don’t want to brag or get ahead of myself but I’m sensing a job offer of some sort,” he said and you stopped in your tracks to squeeze him into a tight hug.

“That’s so amazing! You deserve this so much, baby,” your voice was muffled as your mouth was blocked by his shoulder, but Jaemin still managed to hear you, chuckling at your excitement. “Thank you, kitten, but nothing is for sure yet. So far, everything is running smoothly, though,” he said.

After about two hours, the exhibition officially came to an end. It would be open to the general audience again tomorrow, and then again for two more weekends ahead. The first day was crowned a success; Jaemin received a lot of positive feedback on his work and people seemed to genuinely enjoy their time there.

As the hall closed, your friend group gathered at the entrance, escorting the last remaining people out, thanking them for their attendance. Once the four of you were the only ones who remained, Jisung spoke up. “I have an idea. I know it’s late but that’s the fun part. I have the keys to the coffee shop. ‘Caramel Craze’. I know we should be out celebrating with alcohol but none of us likes that stuff. So what do you say? We sneak in and celebrate there. No one will notice,” he said and this offer sounded particularly delicious at the moment.

Entering the coffee shop, the cozy familiar place seemed a lot different in the dark. Jisung didn’t lift up the blinds nor turned the lights on. Instead, he grabbed a torch light from behind the register counter and headed towards your favorite table, setting the torch in the middle to light up the space around the four of you. Going to the back, in the little café’s kitchen, Jisung quickly heated up some frozen cinnamon rolls which were meant to be displayed and sold in the morning. When he came back, the four of you sat in a comfortable silence eating the warm pastries.

As Yerim was about to speak, she was interrupted by the coffee shop’s phone ringing. Jisung stood up mid bite, yelling with his mouth full. “What the hell? Who’s calling this late, we’re closed!” he said, running to the phone. As he picked it up, he whispered to himself, ‘please don’t let it be the boss’.

He brings the phone to his ear with a soft ‘hello’ and he remains still and expressionless for a few seconds before he tilts his head towards the table you were sitting at. “Y/n, they say it’s for you,” he yelled and you blinked in confusion, Jaemin and Yerim giving you the same expression.

You stand up, grabbing the phone from Jisung’s hand with hesitation. You nodded to him and he turned his heel towards your friends. 

Sighing, you place the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing your universe,” the familiar raspy voice reverberated through your ear, your back straightening at the sound of the boy you once loved.

Turning you back to your friends, you greeted the boy back. “Hey, Mark,” you said in a whisper, although your friends were too busy chatting to pay attention to you.

“I saw an article online about your friend’s – um, your boyfriend’s photo exhibition. It was today, right? I-I mean, the time zones are a bit weird, a-and I wanted to congratulate you both on the project. I didn’t expect anyone to pick up though, I j-just made a guess to call the coffee shop since you always said you spend all your time there, a-and I didn’t want to disturb you on your own phone and an email seemed too impersonal-”

“Mark, you’re rambling,” you chuckled and he sighed with a soft giggle. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous. If you can tell,” he said.

“Yeah, Mark, I can tell. Relax, it’s just me,” you said and the silence from the other line dragged on for longer than what you would’ve liked.

Finally, Mark broke the silence by sighing again. “Listen, Y/n, I just wanted to say congratulations. I’m so glad you decided to follow your dreams, with slow steps at a time,” he said, the smile evident in his tone of voice.

Your lips stretched upwards too, though you tried to suppress the smile. “Thank you, Mark. It’s such an honor hearing that from you”.

Another pause. You began to speak, you needed an excuse to hang up the phone now, you were missing from your friend group for quite some time now.

“Liste-,” you and Mark said at the same time, but you stopped, giving him permission to speak.

“Listen,” he cleared his throat, “I just want to know that you’re happy. That’s all that matters to me. Are you happy?” Mark asked and your eyes dropped to your feet.

Were you happy? How could you answer this question so easily? You tried to think, swaying in your place, running your mind through places to find an answer. Turning your head to the sound of Yerim’s loud laugh, you saw your friends throwing small chunks of food at each other, Jisung running around the table in an attempt to avoid Jaemin’s attacks, his lovable bright smile on full display.

You smiled to yourself. “Yes, I am happy,” you said and you could feel Mark nodding from the other side of the line. “Good, good. That’s great, that’s all I needed to hear. Congratulations again, Y/n, you deserve it,” he said.

“Thank you, Mark. You too. Stay happy and take care,” you whispered and slowly hung up the phone, without waiting for him to say anything else, if he wanted to that is.

You stood there, unable to move. Jaemin’s lovely voice brought your conscience back to reality. “Who was that, my love?” he asked, Yerim and Jisung stopping their food fight to look at you, waiting for your answer.

You pressed your lips and shook your head, shoulders lifting upwards. You looked Jaemin in his eyes, which looked glossy under the light of the torch. You flashed him one of your brightest smiles, as you walked towards his open arms.

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab

@matchahyuck @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @doieslefttoe

@uwuheeseungie @markleefuckme @letmein2urheart @jungaji @minhwalovebot

@museulgii @lelengerine @neocity-net

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: it's been a year since I last updated the happy together series, I guess I lied when I said the stupid girl incident wouldn't happen with this one but hey it's finally over! this is an epilogue for happy together but can be read as it’s own part. yn’s character here isn’t the same as happy together, this is a completely different yn!! fun fact I came up with this before happy together lol

‘No one wants to think about it. About how your love may run out or hang by a thread because it’s that big, not able to be supported by one person alone. To even have the fleeting negative thought race in your mind. No one wants that.’ — April 25, 2004.

Life was sweet, it was a new romance never felt before (at least in your case). The type to make your heart swell at any sweet action. He was tender, sweet, and attentive. Whatever you asked of him, he’d have for you, ready and in your hands. Mark used to go out of his way for you but slowly the small things became a burden and any little task, he never wanted to do anymore.

Even so, now as you sit on your knees in between his legs, hearing his grunts from the pleasure he is enduring, you put off your own pleasure for his as long as the satisfaction of him feeling loved continues.

With his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark held onto the messy comforter while you kept going. Your nose hitting his pubic bone, staying still for seconds just so he could feel the warmth of your throat around him.

At that feeling Mark allowed a disgruntled moan, loud and perfect. His hips buckle forward, causing you to gag. Tearing up and finger nails softly claw his thighs. That’s the most damage you allowed yourself to cause him. His hand wraps around your hair, the sting of his pulling mirroring the one of your clawing, he was relentless unlike you.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so good, fuck!” He groans, eyes tightly shut. “I love when you gag around me, it feels so good. As if your throat still hasn’t gotten used to me after all these years, pretty girl.”

Raking your nails on the lower back of his thighs, he hisses. With his hands holding onto your head, his thrusts get harder— almost as a counter attack.

The hand you had on his thigh comes in contact with his balls, pinching them where he likes. Playing with and twirling them. Mark’s thrusts become slow but harder, hitting the back of your throat more painful, nothing you wouldn’t take unwillingly, though. He knows you can and will take anything he gives you.

That’s how you knew he was extremely close. When his thrusts were rough and slow, the grip on your hair became tighter when he pushed you further down, becoming extra sensitive to the way you handle his testicles. 

“Ah~ y/n… Please, just a bit more. Ahh…” He pants, stopping his thrusting momentarily until you pinch his scrotum, to which he whimpers loudly. Some sweat had accumulated on his neck and forehead. Glistening, he looked so beautiful, much more than he already is. Mark’s eyes were closed but he could feel your lingering gaze on him. He could feel the penetrating stare that looked at him with adoration.

When he couldn’t handle it furthermore and his thrusts against your throat were becoming sloppy, Mark’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at you, giving you one of his most tender smiles. You never got used to the way he looked at you. Even when he gave you his coldest glares, there was always a sense of adoration to them. 

So one can only imagine the warmth and giddiness you felt when he looked at you this lovingly. Lovingly enough that he removed one hand from your head and placed it on your cheek. Thumb caressing your flesh, soft strokes contradicting the ones abusing your throat.

“What I wouldn’t do to be like this with you forever.” The words contradictory and cheeky to his caring caress, almost conniving. 

Mark’s hips jolted forward, disgruntled moans left his lips but his eyes never left yours. Even after he screwed them shut momentarily from pleasure, he’d always open them to let you know how good he felt. Head thrown back, trying to regain his breath and calmness after the orgasm you had just given him. His hand strokes your head softly whilst you gaze up at him lovingly, your head resting on his thigh. 

“Morning,” your voice snaps him out of it, looking down at you with a smile. “Really good morning.” He chuckles in a breath, leaning down as much to give you a soft and tender kiss, tasting himself on you. Pulling apart, Mark stands up, helping you up from the aching position you were in. Rubbing your knees momentarily to soothe the pang. 

It didn’t take long enough to forget his care and make his path to the kitchen, you trailing behind like a lost puppy, ignoring your ache just to start the day for both of you. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Your soft voice squeaked against his ear, making him turn to you slowly. A gleam of hope on your part as always.

“What is it?” You could see his emotions coursing through, already looking for excuses as always. “Just— can you pick up an order at Cafe 7 Dream? It’s for Venetia’s pregnancy leave party but I don’t have time to pick it up. Please? During your lunch break?”

Your eyes still glimmer with hope knowing well what his answer already is. “Oh… baby, you already know I can’t. I don’t even know where it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, walking past you after giving his famous apologetic pout. 

Back to him, hopeful smile faltering, slowly closing your eyes disappointed but not surprised knowing the predicted outcome. You sigh quietly, basking in the background noise he made. Opening and closing the fridge door and pans moving around the stove top as if he truly had intentions to do something.

“I guess, yeah… it’s fine I’ll figure it out then.” Defeatedly, you make your way to him, watching him play with the knobs as if he didn’t know how a damn stove works, you only interfered when he opened the egg crate. Rushing to him you took it all off his hands, his faux complaining making you roll your eyes, him oblivious to how it wasn’t playful anymore. “Go shower, you’ll be late.” Still, your voice held no annoyance. 

He chuckles, completely oblivious to your feelings as always. “Or we could shower together…” he suggests, not over the morning rendezvous. Wanting more and more, never satiated.  

You didn’t have it in you to smile at him, shaking your head and dismissing him as you crack the eggs over the pan. He giggles, towards the bathroom, placing a playful slap to your ass on his way.

The walls were thin. You could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the water running, and your thoughts bouncing off of them. Torturing you with the words and feelings you try to repress all the time in order to live in peace and in love with him.

You loved him. More than anything, to the point it was extremely painful despite him being yours. You’ve fought hard trying to make your love for him unconditional, there was no backing out anytime.

Moments like these in which he shut down your pleas, all you could do was restrain yourself from the ill thoughts your tired brain tried to throw at him. You couldn’t let anything get in between the both of you, not even yourself. 

So instead you rather stand in front of the stove, moving the spatula around to make him his beloved sunny side up eggs. Funny enough, you hated them but if he wanted you to love them, you would.

Coming out of the bathroom, steam painting the mirrors and windows. Mark dries his hair with the towel sitting atop his shoulders, a sniffle leaves him, pulling the chair from the dining table, smiling at you with a ‘thank you’ rolling off his tongue while you set down his dishes and drink right in front of him. 

“You’re not eating?” He questions the moment you sat beside him with just a pouch of Konjac Jelly. You could only smile and shake your head, suckling on the nozzle to get out the contents. You weren’t eating then and there, you just didn’t want to tell him you were getting breakfast with your colleague on your way to work. 

Mark nodded before digging in on the yolk with his spoon, that expected smile on his face.

He talked and talked after every bite and chew. Mark was well aware of how much you liked to hear his voice, especially in the morning before he left you for work. Head resting on your palm as you watched him stack his plates, a smile plastered on your lips from his presence alone. 

“Want me to drop you off? You’re gonna have to hurry though.” The clanking of the bowls on the sink as he passed water over them knowing you’d wash them eventually; making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting dressed. 

Shaking your head as a response, he waits for your explanation. “I’m walking the entire week, don’t worry about me. Maybe I'll take the bus.”

How couldn’t he when both of your jobs were a tad bit far from home. It didn’t help that most of the time you got out late. At least he was thankful Jungwoo could drop you off whenever he wasn’t able to pick you up or simply didn’t feel like it.

“You know I don’t like it when you ride the bus, it’s always filled with… men at these hours. Take care, okay? Call me once you arrive or if something happens.”

Despite your smile of approval, what was he going to do when he can barely take care of himself?

Mark’s lips fell against yours the moment he opened the door to the apartment, towering over you for a few kisses before pulling away. “By the way, can you pick up my suit from the cleaners either later or tomorrow? I have a meeting at the end of the week.”

He was giddy asking you for a favor, clutching his backpack, ignoring the way you tried to not let your emotions show through your face. “Yeah… I’ll do it after work.” Your soft voice, trying its best to hide that tinge of bubbling vexation.

Mark smiled, a giggle leaving his throat whilst his hand caresses your cheek. “I’ll see you at night, baby.” You couldn’t answer, he had bolted towards the elevator. Only the daily bittersweet taste lingers once again.

Shutting the door behind you, your eyes immediately travel to the pile of dishes he left for you on the sink, not even allowing your sighs to escape by how familiar this scene has become. It was rather frustrating for Mark to not notice your obvious signs of unhappiness with him. He knew you loved him, perhaps more than he loved you, which he tends to ignore to not throw himself off.

But that love he thinks you have was blinding him from all the realities of how dysfunctional the relationship was. It was pitiful that his friends were the only ones to actually notice them.

“Markie, morning!” Johnny’s cheerful voice booms against his ear, hand softly patting the younger man’s shoulder as he signals to follow him and Jaehyun to the break room while handing him a cup of coffee. 

Mark returned the greeting to both of the men standing in front of him, conversing as if he didn’t see them almost daily. From joke after joke, Jaehyun’s phone beeped constantly, the other two ignoring it as he checked it with a giddy smile plastered on his face; Johnny asks if they’d like to get lunch during their break.

Mark immediately agreed to the offer, taking some of the last sips from his coffee. They spoke about restaurant options but upon Jaehyun not answering, rather typing, the blackberry keys louder than his coworkers, the two turned to ask again.

“Jaehyun, you’re down for lunch?” Johnny questions, making his way towards the trash can, depositing away his cup, the eyes on the ‘7’ icon turning to Mark. Jaehyun hums in response, putting his phone away before actually speaking. “Uh, maybe next time. I have something to do.” An apologetic smile, Johnny understanding but Mark lets out a teasing chuckle. 

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

He didn’t want to make it obvious but Jaehyun put enough emphasis on ‘your’. “She asked for a favor and I always say yes, so...” Jaehyun shrugs, sipping the last of his own coffee.

The air was shifting to hostility the more Mark’s expression began to change, slowly but surely. His eyes followed every move Jaehyun made, ignoring how all the 7’s glared at him, even his own. Johnny was no fool, if Jaehyun couldn’t feel the building hostility, Johnny was clearly feeling and seeing it. His eyes advert from both men as he watched how quickly a mood can be annihilated.

“Always? What do you mean, always?” Mark turns his back to the other two —almost to shield himself from the accusatory numbers—, throwing away his not empty cup and going to the sink to wash off the stickiness from the coffee that spilled on the sides.

The second oldest man mustered a shrug, taking a cup from the water cooler and pouring some in to get rid of that coffee taste on his tongue. Bitter coffee taste, the one lacing Mark. “I mean, I can’t say no to her… if she’s busy and can’t run an errand she asks me to run it for her and in return she bakes me a cheesecake. We all win!” Johnny smiles at Jaehyun at the mention of the desert and his unconvincing naivety.

Mark didn’t speak, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the realization that the reason you always baked was not for you or your coworkers but for his friend. For doing something you had originally asked of him. Just in the past month you had baked six cheesecakes and all of them after you asked him for a favor that he turned down. All this time he thought you were just baking for pleasure but now he knows Jaehyun helps ease your stress. Jaehyun, not Mark.

“I’m gonna head back…” Johnny’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, the elder’s eyes adverting from his two younger friends before opening the door. Jaehyun announces that he’ll follow behind, leaving Mark to his own thoughts for just a second.

One could call that the start of his demise. If anything Mark would’ve been better off knowing you did everything on your own but now he felt an unjust slight resentment that you ran to one of his friends. Guilt, if you will, for his own faults.

He didn’t let the thought go the entire day and it didn’t become better once you had arrived back home with groceries and his suit in hand. Worse off, he saw you struggle with the heavy items but he made no effort to help, rather analyzed the components in your hands. Contrary to you, upon seeing him, a warm smile spreads on your face. Putting everything down and going up to him to envelope him in an embrace and a tender kiss.

“Hi…” your breathy voice showing obvious signs of agitation. 

“Hey… why are you so late?” He questions, accusatory for something he’s not sure what he’s looking for yet; a minute frown as he looks through the contents of your grocery totes. Cream cheese, graham cracker, sweet condensed milk… a pit in his stomach formed, a growing feeling of confusion followed.

“Another cheesecake?” He questions, taking out the items and starting to put them away. To say you were taken aback was an understatement, your chest swole and you felt some relief seeing he was actually helping. You nod, holding onto the back of a chair to catch yourself. Mark hums, turning to look at you. Upon seeing how sunken and dull you were looking, his expression turned to one of concern.

“Have you eaten?” Mark asks, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. “Yeah! We had a dinner party for Venetia’s leave.” ‘I told you about it..’ you want to add. No matter, you knew it was futile with how he hums in response. It was true about the dinner part but you hadn’t eaten there, Jungwoo and you had decided to blow it off and go to a soup bowl restaurant instead.

He hums again, putting away all the other groceries and leaving just the cheesecake items. “Seventh cheesecake this month isn’t it?” 

His piqued interest sounded hostile and cold, eradicating any sense of relief that he cared. “Yeah, why not?” Responding with a smile and knitted eyebrows, Mark didn’t add more. In turn, he took his items from the living room to the bedroom, opting to continue working there. 

Looking at the empty spot he left, a sigh left your lips before continuing to fulfill your part of the deal with Jaehyun. You didn’t know if the sigh was from relief or grief. Regardless, his care was too good to be true. 

The next morning he had woken to your spot on the bed empty and cold, a building resentment and loneliness starts to grow when times before he didn’t feel them. Odd. 

Giving himself a few minutes of rest time until he decided to get up and do his daily routine. By the time he had reached the table, his breakfast was covered to keep the warmth in, glowering when he noticed it was slightly warm but getting cold. A note on the side of his dishes. 

‘Decided to head early. Sorry in advance if the food gets cold. Love, y/n’

A small heart next to your name, Mark smiles to himself. As he ate his breakfast, his concerns and the slight jealousy he had gained overnight dissipated. He felt foolish for questioning your relationship with Jaehyun. What was there for him to be jealous of? Hell, Jaehyun was taking care of the burdens he didn’t want to, that’s a win-win situation, no? Jaehyun gets his treat, you remain content, and he isn’t bothered. Yeah, he can now think clearly and see that’s fair. Nothing ever comes out of your close friend being nice and considerate of your wife, right? 

Hmm…

Nevertheless, Mark shakes his head with a goofy content smile whilst he drops his dishes in the sink, passing cold water over them. You picked up his suit yesterday and today it was hanging, freshly steamed furthermore. His shoes clean and shiny by the door, food you cooked for him in his system, and overall a lovely note you wrote him. Mark knows you love him and only him, what a stupid little preoccupation yesterday was.

“Dumbass.” He chuckles to himself, squeezing a plushie he had gotten you that ever since, you left on the bed, your smell on it; you’d always be near him and oh how he loved that security. Surely he has to let you know how he adores your love.

Walking towards your desk to look for whatever piece of paper, he sat on your chair, opening the drawers and searching for at least a sticky note.

Upon finding the nearest notebook, Mark pulled it out along a pen. Opening it to where he could find a clean page; he stumbled on multiple pages of frantic writing and numbers written all over. Sometimes they went down and sometimes they went up, if the number was higher than last, a large ‘x’ crossed it in red. He didn’t think much of it, maybe something to do with work statistics?

Curiosity still got the best of him, he’s never seen you write messily. Everything you’ve written has been tidy and neat, so this was interesting. Flipping through the pages, he found two lists. They read the same thing but the one on the left had more x’s whilst the one on the right had check marks, sometimes nothing.

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

Those were all things you had asked him to do and things he had told you he couldn’t do on account of all the excuses he made. All striked through, ink bolder and fresher the more recent the task was. All those crosses were for him and he figured all the check marks were for Jaehyun.

Some of the stuff seemed too intimate for Jaehyun to do for you. Picking up the cleaners? Fix the leak? Find a car inspector?

Jaehyun had no responsibility to find any of this stuff for you but there he was doing what Mark couldn’t and that jealousy he felt yesterday was back again. That meant you hadn’t picked up his suit yesterday, right? It was Jaehyun who had done so and his grubby hands must’ve left oils for you to steam it again?

God, no… he was being irrational again!

The more he flipped through the pages, Mark read the small and longer paragraphs. Most of them written frantically and showed obvious frustration. It seemed to be completely full of vent paragraphs. You wrote down your desperations and thoughts, often seeming angry and saddened. He cared for all that but they became unreadable the more upset you became as you went on. 

Few things that made his head pound and chest start to rip apart were how many times he read two names over and over: ‘Jungwoo’ and ‘Jaehyun’. You met them through him, he had brought them into your life but now he was finding that to be a mistake. 

Ironic, isn’t it? You spoke so well of them. Every paragraph regarding them was neatly written and cohesive. For the most part you were just thanking them for making your life easier.

‘Keep forgetting to look for new posts, Jungwoo has been helping but he seems kinda down when he does.’

‘Dinner coordinator keeps bringing the same catering and it’s growing tiring, seaweed treats are hell. Thank god Jungwoo took me out instead. — 03.29.08, 22:37.’

Last night’s date. You had told him you ate at the company dinner but instead went out with his friend and didn’t think to tell him, opting to lie about it. He knew you loved him but now he was questioning if the amount was just as big as he thought.

‘Wonder if Jaehyun is getting tired of these favors and cheesecakes. I don’t think he even finishes an entire one in a month and I’ve baked seven for him, I fear for his fridge. It’s not as big as I thought now that he moved. Nevertheless, thank god I can count on him to actually do these favors for me.’ 

The last part stung horribly. It didn’t seem to be a jab on him from how you wrote it but he took it as such given he always did something wrong when you asked him to just so you would stop or he’d make excuses for the same reason. He now took issue with you preferring Jaehyun’s and Jungwoo’s help over his. 

He also hadn’t told you Jaehyun moved apartments so there was no reason for you to know how big his fridge was. It stung more that neither of his friends told him about the close friendship they held with you, his wife. 

The last note on the paper is what caught his attention; ‘Lunch with Jungwoo at Cafe 7 Dream, 12:30 today.’

It’s only 08:35 in the morning as of right now; he got dressed and put away all your stuff trying his best to make it seem like he didn’t rummage through. As he buttoned up his shirt all he could think about was going to said cafe and seeing what it was all about. A part of him told him to stop being stupid, you and Jungwoo were friends too given the company you two work in, so a lunch shouldn’t be bad. But he couldn’t shake off this uncertainty.

His day went monotonously. From the moment he made his way out of the apartment, to his daily drive through the freeway with a clear view of a big ‘7,' not drinking his daily coffee with his colleagues, to now being back in the car, looking at that same ‘7’ he sees daily while he roams for a parking spot.

Whatever was playing on the radio was static and the air around him stuffy, not even the rolled down windows being able to aid him. It was around 12:53 in the afternoon when he had arrived and parked a few spots away from the vast window of the cafe. Bringing down the sun visor, fingers strumming on the steering wheel, and his lips pursed, eyes roaming the area— Mark had spotted you and his friend in the outdoor section. 

His initial jealousy wasn’t present right now, he was mostly focused on the image that had never been presented to him: you were visibly upset. Throughout your six years of being together, you always remained calm and even when he spewed vile things towards you during one-sided arguments you never cracked.

Maybe that’s why you’ve lasted this long. He could say whatever he pleased and kept off his chest while you never gave him a negative reaction. For the most part whenever you didn’t respond in the arguments he’d angrily walk out of the situation to go meet with his friends while he left you to scribble your feelings onto the journal he stumbled upon just today.

Your arms flailed, hands forming into claws that whenever you were spewing something that angered you, clung to your flesh, leaving dents on it— must have been that intense if he could see those forming. Your hair was disheveled but your clothes intact besides the pantyhose you were clawing at earlier. You didn’t look dull anymore but you did look on the brink of angry tears.

In contrast to you, Jungwoo leaned back on his metal chair, hair kept well combed, suit intact and ironed, with a shit eating grin on his face as he nodded with everything you said. His words were slow, helping Mark in reading his lips and only being able to read just that sentence: “Let it all out, you don’t deserve this.” Every time he said those words, you’d slump over the table, head resting on your hands and nodding to yourself.

The perplexed expression on Mark’s face never left. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, leaning in against his wheel as if any of that would help him listen to the conversation. It worsened when Jungwoo took a small box from his pocket, handing it to you in which you’d give him an apologetic smile for ranting to him while also being thankful.

He didn't understand where all this came from. You have always been so calm, never letting things affect you let alone smoke. Hell, you're the reason he stopped smoking but here you were doing what he used to do with his friend.

At this moment he didn’t understand why he had rushedly gotten out of his car and inside the building. All the courage he mustered to go inside dying whenever he saw the both of you stand up from the table after paying.

His heart was palpitating in horror. He couldn’t excuse why he was there this time, he told you he didn’t know where this place was so it would only worsen your already horrible mood. Not to mention, he had nothing to say. How would he start the conversation? “I know I’ve lied to you about this place but what the fuck is your deal with Jungwoo and Jaehyun? What’s your journal all about?” No, he can’t let you know he’s been snooping, let alone have you think he’s jealous.

Mark could only follow behind a group of people walking to the counter, hiding amongst them and hoping you stayed enthralled in your conversation to not notice him. At least he was thankful he could finally hear the conversation but that dissipated the moment he heard Jungwoo’s voice.

“If you keep pushing away and shutting off your frustrations with him this won’t end well. You can’t just conform to keep him with you and let him do all he’s doing. You can’t let him act the way he does and hope he changes without asking. You know what my grandma would say? If you don’t speak, God won’t hear you. And he’s not hearing you. Are you not miserable in the relationship?”

It stung. It painfully stung deeply in his heart that he truly felt he was having a heart attack right now, cardiac arrest— whichever. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Mark says, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ So which is it?” Jungwoo laughs, shrugging. “Seems God can’t make up his mind or he's fucking with us just because he can.”

Sadly for the both of you this was only the start of your demise. As for the following weeks, Mark had begun to dig deeper into this madness he was slowly learning he had created. Every time he was home alone, Mark began to read the notebook he had found. Your writing didn’t become any less incomprehensible but he was starting to learn what certain loops meant.

He wouldn’t say your writings were enjoyable, rather more concerning than anything but this is the closest he’ll get to truly knowing you. It still baffles him that after six years of being together, you were capable of hiding this much from him. The only time he could recall you actually being mad was the time both of you crossed paths with one of his childhood friends.

The atmosphere turned hostile and tense as the older male reprimanded him for not inviting them to his wedding to which Mark said he did, he even gave his mother the invitation directly to give to them. The look the two shared had made your insides churn, in that instance you wanted to cut your own chest to relieve that sting within.

You could handle a lingering look and his friends' questioning remarks whenever speaking to you, but what killed you was that it took him a week to regain his dignity after he bid him goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The words: “They long to see you.” Cascading from his lips, but Mark smiles tenderly and awkwardly.

Mark only recalls you giving him blank stares and taking a while to answer him, conversations non-existent unless he started them. But Jungwoo got to see you tear your desk down, shred paper after paper, and cry in agony at the same time that entire week, knowing well what the older man had meant, you weren’t stupid after all, he’s not the only one who’s read someone’s secret stash of letters. 

That’s the only time he thinks you’ve been mad at him or resentful enough. If only he knew how many fits Jungwoo has experienced and cleaned. But while you might not be foreign to an empty bed, Mark was. When he felt your side of the bed still neatly made and the duvet cold, a sense of fear made him shoot up. 

He had gotten home before you that day once again, trusting that Jungwoo was giving you a ride not long after he arrived like always. After a few hours of working on some data and analysis to the point of not being able to eat the dinner you had woken up early to cook for him. Mark had decided to rest for a while not thinking of taking a nap until his eyelids feel heavy and his slumber commenced.

That was around 6:43pm, now it’s midnight with no signs of you in the bedroom and if he knew anything from those six months of living with a married couple— one of the spouses was up to something.

That’s where his fear rose and his chest started to constrain his breathing. You would never do anything to hurt him, right? Mark knew you loved him. Yes, you love him, you’d never do anything of the style. You're not her.

You're not her...

Opening the bedroom door with such force; he startled you, jumping once the doorknob slammed against the wall. His fears dissipated the instance his eyes laid on your sitting figure. Crouched over your desk with a pen on hand and arm covering the pages of that same notebook. While he was relieved to see you, now he was worried of what else you could add to wreck his nerves.

“When did you get home?” His raspy voice questions. You shrug, taking his presence, closing the notebook and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. 

“Maybe an hour ago? Jungwoo got quite drunk so Jaehyun took a while to pick us up.” 

Mark knew what jealousy felt like, he’s experienced it in the most hateful way and over all these years he trusted you enough to never feel this strongly ever again but his friends were starting to test his patience. It may be subconscious and a self inflicted fear but Mark knows what friends can do. 

“You didn’t say you were going out with Jungwoo.” That pitch of irritation laced his tongue, every word getting louder the more he shook his slumber away. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. He really didn’t want to have any reaction but he can’t reap what he sows.

Mark always started like this when an argument would ensue. You could handle his vile words and reproaches but you had a presentation tomorrow and the last thing you needed was for him to treat you like shit at midnight. You’ve had enough of your supervisor for that. 

“Company dinner meeting, Mark… I told you about the presentations.” Your voice was betraying you with how whiny it came out. But could anyone blame you? You had been ecstatically talking about this for almost a month, even Johnny knew about it. It just seems the man you married couldn’t be bothered enough to remember. 

Mark tried his hardest to pick at his brain and recollect the memories of you telling him. It was of no help that you hadn’t written about it in your journal either. All he had left was to deflect. 

“You could’ve called me to pick you up, though? Why did you have to call Jaehyun?” 

“Would you have gone? You've been sound asleep the while I've been here.”

Your tone took him aback, this was the first time he could hear some attitude and mocking in your voice. He didn’t know whether to be happy that for once you spoke to him like this or angry that the mention of Jaehyun was eliciting this response, almost as if you’re defending him.

Noticing the look of confusion on his face, you retracted any possibility of continuing this ensuing argument. Just like him, you’ll avoid any further action.

“Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

He didn’t listen, just sunk his feet deeper into the tile, processing the whiplash of your actions. On the contrary, you walked past him to the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the stereo system, hoping your nightly ritual would help you not think about these happenings. Him? He’ll sulk like he is not at fault.

‘Oh, I think you’re holding the heart of mine. Squeeze it apart, that's fine…’ The melody mocks and lulls him goodnight. 

A similar situation happened days later. The days building up to that night, you hadn’t asked him for any favors. Times before he’d be glad but now he grew weary. The only outlier was that you weren’t baking, so had the rewards gone further than sweet treats? How far could you go?

No! Stop! Mark knows you’d never do anything like that, you’re not her, that’s a huge reason he fell for and married you. You ar– were perfect.

But then, why haven’t you asked anything of him yet? Was it truly futile now?

Deja vu hit, the bed was cold beside his own spot, your plushie thrown to the floor (the only difference), no sign of you, but the second he swung the door open, there you were. Sitting mindlessly on your desk, scribbling things he couldn’t see but knew he would struggle to understand later. He approached slowly, the only light source the lamp before you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is curious and soft in comparison to last time. You shrug like before, scribbling. “Nothing.” Precise yet somehow cold. No matter how much closer he got, by only a step, you shut the journal, throwing it in your drawer and turning the lamp off. He didn’t know how to take it, your actions swift and nonchalant but regardless you still made the effort to kiss him goodnight on the way to complete your night routine. 

01:48 read the stereo system. Mark hums, this night’s song mocking him again while his eyes look into the darkness and curves of your desk, directly at the drawer that held all your grievances. He contemplates it but it’s no use tonight.

‘I love him so much, it just turns to hate. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake. And someday you will ache like I ache.’ He chuckles, turning it off.

The next day was enough. You had left before him again, no reason as to why either but later he had learnt that Jaehyun had gotten into the office late with a Cafe 7 Dream drink in hand and not bought by Johnny.

He had taken your absence as an opportunity, looking at the positioning of things in your desk carefully to remember how he’d put everything back. Slowly but surely, he took the journal out, opening it to the new pages.

With the journal in hand, he steps into the kitchen, sitting on the dining table where his warm food rested. Warm enough to let him know you left not long ago. Effortlessly, he uncovers it, sliding the plates towards him and standing up to get a drink. The ice-cold water pitcher sat in front of him and he began his tasks.

‘Guilt floods me every time I ask Jaehyun and Jungwoo for favors. Is this excessive? Poor Jaehyun looks so tired, I think I have to ease it. He may claim it’s fine but how much cheesecake or danishes can someone eat without feeling the weight of burden grow as fat around his muscles?’ “What a way with words,” Mark scoffs to himself, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek, his teeth scolding him.

‘Jungwoo on the other hand is probably exhausted from my complaining. I see this as my karma for all the times I told friends to leave their bummy boyfriends. I get it now. This feeling is too strong. I can't just end it, I think… Regardless, I do need to stop with the favors, hell they’re easy so I can do them but it’s nice to not hear them complain or make excuses instantly. That’s selfish of me but I deserve some self indulgence from time to time. No… not at their expense at least...‘

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

He didn’t like that. He’s read enough for the past few weeks but nothing like this. The bummy part even less.

He won’t deny that he wished your food got stuck in his throat and suffocated him so he can drop dead with your journal in hand and true guilt arises in you when you find his body but that’s not him, that’s his jealousy and anger speaking. Maybe he was getting influenced by your entries, this is something you would say just not to him.

Mark scoffs again, sighing heavily, and pushing his chair to get out. He leaves the food uncovered and dishes dirty to complete his morning routine. Despite his anger he puts back your journal not counting on the wet back from the water pitcher but flaws are meant to happen when you’re letting frustration blind you. 

The day went in a blur from then until lunch. Snapped out of his trance by Johnny shaking his shoulder and their manager next to the taller man, Mark gave the two a fish out of the water look. One that made his manager pinch the bridge of his nose but shook it off while Johnny on the other hand gave him a questioning look. The man wasn’t stupid, he could see how distant Mark had been and at most kept to himself despite trying to act like everything is fine and bond with him and Jaehyun, but he’s not that great at covering the heart on his sleeve.

“Here, take the intern with you and ask for the lunch platter at Cafe 7 Dream, the meeting is in less than an hour and we still aren’t prepared.” The manager rushedly spoke, handing him his credit card, the gray hairs on his side seemingly growing with every word he spoke. It was a large investment meeting and he needed to secure this but he had been so careless that their hospitality was a wreck. 

Nevertheless, Mark agreed, the new intern standing behind the other two men that he hadn’t noticed her until she popped out, startling him a bit. She was young and timid, he hadn’t heard her speak but that little jump she caused him made her laugh apologetically. 

That’s the most verbal communication they had through the ride to the cafe. The radio was adamant on playing TVXQ and she enjoyed it while he focused more on the sounds the tires made and the honking from outside. Even when they arrived at the cafe they didn’t speak, if anything their expression said it all. He seemed tired and uninterested while she was indifferent with only polite smiles to her senior.

Crossing the threshold of the first doors, a familiar figure stops in front of him much to the other’s confusion when his indifference turns into a content smile. No matter how frustrated he was with what he had read, an inkling in him will always remind him of the affection he has for you. “Y/n, hi!” He exclaims, turning to you a hand reaching for your shoulder. You’re not too sure how genuine his giddiness is but in the moment for Mark, it’s the most sincere thing ever, more than you have ever been.

It’s not enough to convince you though, with your eyes flitting between him and the intern as he kisses your cheek and the other stands awkwardly behind only flashing you a quick greeting smile before looking around.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice broke the interactions, a hint of annoyance and to an extent accusatory over something that you haven’t voiced, turning to her again before looking back at him. The young girl wasn’t quite sure of how you felt but knew it was a safer bet to go order before their boss called, clenching his ass from how fast time went and he didn’t have things ready.

Clearing her throat, “I’m going to go order… The card?” She extends both hands, Mark takes out their manager’s card and hands it to her who bolts to the register. It doesn’t take Mark long to turn to you, smile slowly faltering, seeing your stare. Unsure if it’s a glare or if that’s how you look at someone when no longer adoring.

“Manager sent us to get something for a meeting.” He brings his smile back, hoping that would help. Yet, you hum and that’s all he gets. It takes a few seconds until your mouth, like a fountain, unexpectedly spouts something. “I’ve asked you to get things for me from here but you always say you don’t know where this place is.” A soft huff leaves you while forcing a smile. You can feel warmth rush from your skull down to your feet. It’s not pleasant, at all, but you can’t lose your cool right now. Not in front of him.

Perhaps if this had happened before reading your entries, Mark would have dismissed it but now he was growing knowledge of your behavioral cues and he can see your hands go behind your back, allowing your nails to cling onto your bare skin.

He musters a sigh and looks at his watch, the meeting was near. “We can talk about this later, pretty girl.” His hand reaches your arm to stop you although he makes sure to not let you know he knows about your little habit.

You shake your head, smiling up at him and going in for a kiss. “No, it’s cool, it’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later at home, okay? Okay.” You didn’t wait for a response and habits don’t die so he found it preferable to drop it. At least he’ll probably read about it in your journal soon and not have you complain in his ear.

Of course you’re not going to be in his ear when you’re on your phone frantically typing something and soon putting it to your own. Seems you’ll be blowing someone else’s ear off and it’s likely the poor loser will be Jungwoo. With every motion, flailing arm, and facial contortion– Mark knew enough of how this little thing made you feel and all he could react with was a grunt.

On weekends, by the time he began to rustle in bed and stretch, he’d be greeted with kisses and tight embraces. They often made him giggle but this weekend was much different. Once again, he woke up with the plush on the floor, a cold bed, and the window closed with only the racket outside the bedroom door. Everything was muffled but if there’s something he identified was the smell of food being made and those two laughs he’s known very well for quite a while now.

With some surprise, he jolts up. His body aches from the lack of stretching but his feet don’t care and drag him out of bed. Opening the door he’s met with Jungwoo and Jaehyun bickering about how heavy the couch was, soon to shift their attention to the movie that had been playing through broadcast TV. On the other hand he turned to look at you taking out things from a cabinet, Jungwoo rushing to help, a screwdriver in hand as he inspected the door– it creaked.

“Morning…” He greets, stretching a bit and hiding his yawn behind his arm. You make way towards him but the other two were quicker, taking his hand and continuing their greeting-shake. By the time you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, your arms around his torso in a hug like they should’ve been when he woke up. Jaehyun and Jungwoo throw each other a glance, one you both miss but that they mask with their teasing towards Mark.

“Morning? It’s nearly two.” Jaehyun begins, “Can you blame him? What does he have to do on a lovely Saturday?” Jungwoo continued but it came out rather bitter despite trying to be playful. Mark manages to laugh just like the rest of you, it doesn’t change the warning look you throw at Jungwoo who ignores it while removing the cabinet door, showing more chipped parts to it.

“Can you help me find something, then?” Mark dismisses the other two, looking directly down at you. Without hesitating you nod, walking to the room with him, your grasp on his torso not falling, rewarded with a tender smile of his. Unbeknownst to you two, the other pair give each other a glance again, although this time it lingers on each other. Disappointment and exhaustion painting itself on their features before going back to the favors.

The wooden door shut behind you two, Mark makes way to the restroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, leaving you situated on the bed and confused. “What are we looking for?” You question with some excitement as if this was a task you truly wanted when making him happy was enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” He finally speaks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair strands damp. “They’re just fixing some stuff.” You ease softly, smiling up at him as he stares at you. 

His hand perched on your shoulders, pushing you down on the mattress and met with a surprised squeaking giggle that he shut immediately with a kiss. Those same hands wrapped around your body pulling you flush against him as his tongue works against your own.

Lips became slick by the moment but he felt so much pour into that kiss. So much longing and desire. A mixture of lust and guilt and that balance may be why he felt the need to keep you here in this room with him and not out there with those vultures.

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

His hands began a journey down your body, feeling every curve until they rested on your hips. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts, teasing their entrance under. It was enough for you to gasp quietly, feeling his cold damp fingers while he kissed you, smiling into it. He swallowed every word and protest before you could even spew them. 

Your own hands on his hair, lips submissive to his. A moan when you feel his digits fully in between your legs. You shake your head but not in protest but rather of how much you needed his touch. “Say something…” He whispers against your lips, no smile on his face. “Please…” You beg, his fingers making slow circles to not hurt you but enough to get you to lubricate and use that instead.

The scene was greedy and lustful but ultimately, he was reminded of those two out there and the reason as to why they were present lingered. Was the couch and cabinet door that important that you had to call the little crew? No matter how displayed you are for him, with your hands holding onto him, lips kissing his own, and legs open for his own disposition– Mark was still aggravated.

Softly he pulled away from you, caressing your face with his free hand while his fingers went to work. “Why didn’t you ask me to help instead of them?” He tries to seem soft spoken like his caresses but those become rougher the more he speaks. “Would you have done it?” There he knew how much little faith you had on him and the scene from a while back repeats.

“I’d go to the end of the world for you, Y/n.” Mark confesses into the kiss, neither of you too sure how truthful that was. His fingers make their entrance into you, slowly moving to elicit a response. Your body ran hot, his clothed figure above you, silently begging for you to at least believe a fraction of what he said. Those pleading and mopping eyes as he pumped his ring and middle finger, increasing the pace.

You believe me like a God,

‘You’re being so cruel.’ You want to tell him, to engrave it in his brain but it instead came out as a pleased disgruntled moan, one he took as accepting his lies. Mark smiles, head tilting to the side before lowering it to begin kissing your chest. Tongue lapping on the dents your collarbones create, whispering his ailments in them to the point of flooding and creating lakes that flowed down to your perked nipples after unbuttoning your blouse. His tongue, scorching and velvet against them. Granted was a jolt and a gasp when you felt his mouth wrap around one, biting softly to soon suction on the tit.

I’ll destroy you like I am.

Teeth grace your goosebump filled skin, kissing where his teeth left razor marks. Threatening crimson to spill only to be a false alarm, lingering pain and pleasure was all that was intended to reside. His fingers slowed the pace, blunt thrusts per second that left an ache between your legs when his palm came in contact with your outer skin, but oh how good it felt when his fingers hit your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that by this point he had inserted a third finger, the stretch causing so much more need within you.

His mouth travels up the path he created after years of savoring your body. Tongue feeding the dried stream, cool when its source disappeared to carve marks on your neck. It was so juvenile but he wanted you to go out of that room with some swelling for those two to see. Eliciting another moan from you, Mark’s free hand softly comes up to your mouth, covering and sealing it with shushes against your ear.

“Do you want them to know what we’re doing?” He whispers in the same location, you shake your head fervently, feeling hazy and growing even more needy. “Good girl.” He grins, removing his hand to hold your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. His teeth gracing your lower lip, softly nipping it to soon ease the pain he’s caused with his tongue– as he always does.

His fingers kept working their magic between your legs despite the constriction of your shorts, his wedding band no longer feeling cold inside of you but the fact that he didn’t think about removing it made you feel more aroused. To feel that metal piece unite you besides legality but through flesh and body.

Mark must have felt your growing arousal, especially with how much easier it was to ease his fingers within you. The clamping of your walls, more of a clue. In this instance he wanted to be cruel, and he attempted so. His hand stopped moving, rapidly getting out of your shorts and causing a desperate groan to leave your lips, legs quivering from the abrupt halt.

Just as he was going to cause a drought to the land of your skin and mouth, your hands took a hold of his body. Wrapping around his shoulders to hold him near, causing him to stumble slightly but not to topple over you; able to hold himself up. He won’t deny that knocked the wind out of him to a degree, feeling like in any instant he could have crushed you but pride and satisfaction soon filled him.

“Please, Mark… let’s finish at least.” You beg, your voice drunk off of his touch and whiny from how long it had been since you received anything from him. “Yeah? You want that?” He questions, making fun of you with that smug grin on his face, remaining features feigning compassion. He smiles at your desperate nod, mimicking the motion when he laughs quietly, kissing you again. 

Swallowing every single one of your silent moans that he told you to keep quiet to not let those two outside know what he was doing to you. Thing is, he did want them to know, he wanted them to see how fucked you will look once he is done with you. He wants them to see how your legs spasm when trying to walk and see how marked and irritated your neck is. He’s simply making fun of you right now and you’re falling for it because you will be anything he wants. Even a fool.

His hand slowly slides off your shorts and panties, caressing your warm legs in the process. His once calloused fingers from his creative days that he left behind now soft and tender. You held his face in between your own hands, making sure he never kept too much distance between your lips, that fresh taste of mint still lingers on his tongue.

“But do you deserve it?” Mark immediately stops his caressing and kissing, the words echoing in the cavern of your mouth, you swallow them. His gaze is cold but curious, scanning your own for a response, a witty one.

In this instance he tries to remove his touch from you, your grip on him despite how his knee teases its clothed friction against your exposed and destitute clit. He had been denying you an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, depriving the other two from knowing what was going on but Mark didn’t care, he was luxuriating in this.

“You’re being so cruel.” You finally say the words that had been covering the walls of your brain and heart. Needy yet angry tears prickling the corner of your closed eyes. It wasn’t just lust but the fact that he was playing dirty when you’re so vulnerable and in dire need of getting something from him. For once.

“You think so?” His knee stops, eyebrow quirking, shit-eating grin falling. You nod, a pout forming, making things worse. ‘Did you really have to cry now?’ He asks himself, huffing as he shakes his head, pulling down his sleeping shorts.

“You jump to conclusions so quickly, it's always such a shame.” He doesn’t dare look directly at your face as he speaks this, knowing that the constraint and squeeze of your heart was showing. No, instead you’re met with the warm feeling of his spit falling off his tongue onto your cunt, some on the tip of his cock.

To be given something forced you to shut your eyes, a moan of relief enclosed within the four walls of the bedroom you shared with him. It became louder when you felt the intrusion of his dick within your walls, his mouth covering yours to drown those sounds. He likes to cherish these sounds for his own entertainment.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to him, the girth feeling foreign despite how familiar you are with every inch and crevice of his body. Slowly, he picks up the pace, raising your leg to prop it beside him. “See how things turn out when you’re patient?” He asks, searching for your eyes but they’re shut.

The most he gains are pleasured moans in the crook of his neck. Mark can’t figure out how satisfied he is with that answer, so his hand opts to slap the inside of thigh, causing you to whine but reward it with kisses to his neck.

To be fair you didn’t think this could last long. Not when you abstain from self gratification, knowing that only he can bring you to an orgasm and given it’s been a while since you two slept together, an orgasm was long overdue. The friction of his pelvis on your clit while he thrusted was not helping. Just feeling that extra sense of overstimulation while his shaft filled every nook and cranny of your cunt, feeling his length bulge in your stomach.

Holding your body to his, your face buried in his neck begging him to please let you come. The hand beneath you pushing you flush against his own body. If it wasn’t for his shirt as of now, he’d be more vocal with how well you’re both feeling his cock go in and out of you. For now he’s relying on his sweet words, worshiping how well you’re taking him.

Specifically: “Feel how perfectly you were meant for me, pretty girl?” He grabs your hand holding his shoulder, pressing it against your stomach and for some reason that makes you feel like you could come any second now, begging him silently to let you. To please grant you this one thing.

“Fuck, Mark… just give me this, please…” You cry out, eyes screwed shut, lashes wet from pained and pleasured tears. You felt it in your core, you felt how bad your body clamored for some release.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks, his own words struggling to come out unlike the pre-come lining your walls. “As much as you.” You claim, fingernails clinging to his skin, a shallow groan leaving him. He likes to know how much you need him and if you were going to the lengths of hurting him to leave your message, so be it.

With every thrust, your nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. Whether he was picking up masochism or basked in the pleasure of the sadism he inflicted, Mark felt it. He felt how he gave out before you. Spurts of come followed with desperate deep moans that you swallowed in dire need of your own release.

But he was cruel. Very fucking cruel that the second that he stopped spasming and decorating your walls, his actions halt. For a few seconds he holds his position, head on your chest trying to relax his body full of adrenaline. If he was to look at you, he knew your face would beg him for your own release.

After a minute or two he pulls away slowly, taking his shirt off and reaching for the wipes inside his night stand. He warms them with his breath, moving them around to disperse the heat, only to lay them flat between your legs to clean off anything that fell out (although not much), propping your legs up and laying some pillows behind your back so you could rest for now.

Tongue poking his cheek before sighing and turning his back to you. “That’s cruel.” He didn’t say anything furthermore, his voice harsh and cold. Locking the bathroom door behind him and leaving you sprawled on the bed, arousal immediately terminated and the only feeling was of regret for saying what you did and letting things go this far. You couldn’t cry either, the other two would probably cut you off this time for good. So you’ll deny your body from letting out its emotions again. Afterall, Mark has made you be so resilient in that aspect.

Jungwoo’s and Jaehyun’s tasks were complete by the time Mark had gotten out of the shower, lunch too. The entire time underwater he spent it beating himself for the decisions he’s made to let things go this way. A month ago he was content thinking his wife loved him despite his flaws but Jaehyun’s big mouth made him unravel slowly that he was doing more harm than building an eternal home. Mark was resentful, he’s not going to deny that. He hated how quickly theatrics and how easy things he saw as fine can fall.

It stung more that you were laughing uncontrollably with the other two, seemingly neither had anything to mention of the marks on your neck or the completely different outfit you have in comparison to the shorts and blouse from earlier. Hell, Jaehyun is sitting in his chair rubbing salt on the wound and you are not saying anything upon noticing Mark; it sucked the life out of him. A slug in a bath of salt.

“Sit, I’ll fix your plate.” You smile at him as if nothing had happened in the four walls of the bedroom, your conformity noticeable. By this point he had taken the cold seat he was unfamiliar with. Sitting across from you was not something he was accustomed to, not in his own home at least, but here he was, watching two men who actually do drop everything for you. Two men that were his friends first, cracking jokes just to make you smile and laugh at which you did, enough to hunch over, something you haven't done with him in a while. 

Mark had blocked out the conversation completely, watching your moves and theirs. Your facial expressions and where your hands landed from time to time. That deafness fell when you placed the plate before him. The presentation made it obvious that others had gotten to your food before him. The mixture of ingredients painting the canvas of his plate faster than prior times when he was the first to cut through the masterpiece of your dishes. This time it was tampered and by the looks of Jaehyun’s still neatly moved around plate, he was the one to break through first.

Throughout lunch Mark tried his best to not speak, only replying when spoken to or agreeing in some sense. Things got worse when your cell phone kept buzzing and buzzing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter that made the other two give each other a glance, this time, not gone unnoticed by him and piquing his interest further.

The incessant buzzing continues, enough that Jungwoo sighs before lolling his head to give you a weird look. “Is it that dick?”  

‘Oh?’ Mark thinks to himself, an eyebrow raising as he begins to chew slower. Your glare towards Jungwoo to hush him is futile when Jaehyun joins. “Haven’t you told him to stop bothering you after work?” He sounded angry, the type of rage Mark should have, not Jaehyun. In his mind: Jealousy and that made his feelings worse.

How selfish.

“What dick? What are you guys on about?” Mark was so annoyed and frustrated at this point that venom laced every single one of his words, spraying it as he flayed his hands. Your silence made it worse, more painful was that you did so while Jaehyun and Jungwoo took it upon themselves to explain. The two, immensely tired of you not saying anything, of not speaking up.

Jungwoo goes first, he knows, they work together for Christ’s sake. “What’s his name? Ah, whatever… Y/n’s floor colleague has been bothering her for a while, you should know.” He frustratedly shakes his head, fork digging into his plate without noticing the look Mark throws at you. “Yeah…” He mutters, eyes never leaving you, all knowing he’s lying and upset.

“You should really report him, Y/n-ie.” Jaehyun breaks through, forcing Mark’s neck to snap and look at him. He was just making things worse because all Mark could feel was his lunch rapidly collecting in his throat. Cutlery dropping from his hands.

‘Y/n-ie’?! What an insolent fuck! That’s what Mark thought of Jaehyun. How dare he use a diminutive for you? Who the fuck did he think he was? Not even he, Mark, your husband called you that. What a fucking asshole.

How selfish.

A coward too, he wouldn’t know how to react either way. Instead he revels in your words as a distraction. “My boss seems to like him a lot. The only one getting in trouble would be me.” You sigh, fork moving food around. Mark looked between you and your actions, you noticed him, that you took a few bites to make him stop.

“Why don’t you apply to where we work?” He suggests, chewing what was on his fork, now using it to point between him and Jaehyun. Foolish to not grasp yet how that would mean seeing Jaehyun more and having it rub in his face that even under the same roof you’ll run to him for favors.

You liked the idea, it was easy to notice how much you perked up at the fact that he suggested being together 24/7 no matter the different departments.

Jungwoo had other plans, “Then you’d leave me alone.” He pouts childishly. On other occasions he’d laugh too and call him cute but he doesn’t think he can see Jungwoo as fondly as before. “Move to my floor instead.” He continues to test the waters but is met with a kind giggle and shrug from you.

The afternoon transpired with finishing lunch. Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning the dishes while Jungwoo the pots. Mark on the other hand sat on the couch, eyes often stealing glances on how you interacted with the other two. If you tried to clean, they’d reject the idea and tell you to just go sit and do what Mark is doing: nothing; an obvious jab. 

Ending their visit with discussing the kick-back Johnny was hosting at his place in a few weeks. Something about the Champions or US Open? You’re not sure. You were growing more worried about Mark, that you ended up telling whoever to just text you the deets. They smiled with a nod… and a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye while waving to Mark who perked at the scene. He felt his eyes warm and heavy. Not sure if they were tears beginning to form from jealousy or insecurity. 

You throw him an acknowledging smile while making your way to the bedroom. He stood up, leaving the TV on to follow behind. Before you could open the closet door to fetch something to sleep in, you feel his arms wrap around you. There was desperation to his grab, his hold was rough. Your back hit his chest, feeling his exasperated breath on your neck. Soft kisses at first but nipping soon after to leave his name all over you again, claiming you since it seemed like the others weren’t being repelled.

“Mark?…” You call out, his hands knead your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?… Why did you keep–” ‘everything’ he wanted to say, “that from me?” 

“Come on–” you intend to plead but he’s not letting it go. “Why?!” He asks exasperatedly against your face while he leaves wet kisses on the skin, pleadingly. “I didn’t want to burden you.” You confess, a whine at the harsh grasp.

“You’re my wife! I need to know these types of things, Y/n. You can’t just keep things from me, how can we be good to– how can it be good for us?” He exclaims; angry and wailing all at once.

‘How can we be good together like this?’ He wanted to say, biting his tongue to not tell truths while sober. Mark didn’t know what it was, but it hurt. He had been thinking about this for weeks. How to ask you overall about the things you’ve hidden from him but now that he has the chance to bring it up, he can’t help but feel resentful and pained. 

Why did you trust Jaehyun and Jungwoo more than him? He’s your husband.

He expected that once married, loyalty would be granted to him no matter what, one way or another. Just like she had granted it to Donghyuck despite how flawed their marital logic was.

Sure, he made things worse but would the universe be cruel enough for him to be in Hyuck’s shoes years later? He deserved it, he knew, something at least, but that ill side of him– what he had learned from her plagues him and demands you to love him unconditionally. To do things on your own without the help of others even when he’s the one to deny you any aid, when he’s at fault.

Mark is miserable and he expects you to be so too… even more than you already are.

Misery loves company.

His hands stopped their harsh kneading, turning you around to look at him. His tired and weary eyes looked straight into yours. But while he felt resentful and confused, you felt odd. Why was he acting like he cared all of the sudden? It was strange and while you appreciated it to an extent, you also hated it.

You weren’t used to it at least, and you weren’t sure if this act would last. You don’t want to admit it but that voice hidden in the vault of your heart loathes him more than anything.

“Okay…” You nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you things more often, yeah?” 

“Please…”

You nod and he nods, pleadingly; he’s not content and neither are you. 

After that discussion, the day transpired as if nothing had happened. He had returned to the living room leaving you to do whatever while he kept his distance. Only answering with hums and nods whenever you come out of the room.

Did you mind? No, it was so normalized it didn’t make you angry anymore. You actually felt like things were back to normal and this was sufficient enough. Mark on the other hand tried everything to ignore how he felt or regulate those emotions since he wasn’t too sure who he was mad with. 

By the time he had figured he was over it, you had fallen asleep alone like all those times he did weeks prior. A warmth filled his chest at the thought. An inkling telling him to wake up before you do the following day just to leave that dissatisfaction you had left in him, not accounting with how disappointed you were with him already that it wouldn’t affect you in the slightest.

He wouldn’t do it, though. Not because he cared enough, but because he wasn’t planning on waking up early to be petty. What he will do is go back to the living room and let his fingers roam like Thing until those crumpled and messy pages sat on his lap and he laid on the couch, stereo system on.

Instantly he’s met with those familiar sharp corners and loops. Numbers, increasing and decreasing significantly. The larger ones bold from rage, the decreasing one's neatly written with smiley faces next to them. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant but he surely enjoyed the recipes you kept adding to the journal and the doodles of how they turned out. Although, he felt that they lacked so much substance.

All of these felt either welcoming or asked that he be eradicated from this earth for the way he’s breaching your privacy, acting like an over controlling strict father despite being your husband. Almost like his dad, but don’t tell him that or he’ll throw a fit. For having lived so many lives, he's surely turning into the worst version of himself.

Through more flipping to see if he missed anything, he came across some interesting notes. All which made his stomach churn and that pride he would once feel, turned to– well, some type of disgust and concern…

‘I’ll do anything for him but every day I’m going insane with tense trials. It’s fine. If I have to go insane to stay with him I will.’

Mark sighs heavily, hands covering his face to soon slide off hoping his flesh would fall with them, groaning to himself.

Fuck, he loved you. In a fucked up way he did but how much could he endure knowing things aren’t fine and dandy? Sure, his first instinct is to try and fix things but there’s also that part that won’t let him strive for any change and it’s winning.

Change hasn’t been the kindest to him in the past. Hell, it’s the reason he’s morphed into what he is now but you accept him this way. That’s what the incessant and pestering part of him told him to let things be and just act like he doesn’t know what you truly are.

He should be glad, no? To know that you love him so much that it’s killing you. Yet, he isn’t. He’s not sure why, maybe because of his deep buried true morality but he has also grown to be selfish and he wants to relish in the glory of your love until you hit a breaking point.

For once he doesn’t want to be a Bernal character and it seems this is where he is slowly breaking that pattern— albeit, he is not enjoying it either. 

Perhaps it was the hour, his growing resentment, anger, and hurt, or he was overstimulated that caused the music in the background to tremble and clog his ears the longer he kept reading. Lists upon lists of things you had to do at work followed by entries on how much longer your hours would run every instance you paid no mind to that dick that the guys described.

Countless entries of your boss calling your attention after that asshole complains. Instances in which, despite how many pictures of Mark you put up in your cubicle, he makes an effort to make them disappear any time you’re not near. On company dinners, Jungwoo and you make it your life’s mission to slither away from the crowd– to be seen but not noticed, enough to not be reprimanded when you’re miles away from danger.

‘Jungwoo mentions in passing every opening in his floor as an incentive to ask for a transfer. Going as far as getting letters of assistance to request my temporary time in the department. Hours to days, they have been great but not everything lasts. With just one foot back inside in my department, the entire mood shifts and it’s back to reality.’

Mark doesn’t understand why his chest aches every time he reads your journal. Perhaps there’s a moderate amount of empathy but he also feels hurt knowing you’re hiding so much from him.

Years worth of things and even if you don’t say it, you make it known you hate the person he is. Mark is sure that if you weren't attached to him like you are, you’d loathe him the way you loathe everyone who has wronged you. He wonders how long it will be until your love runs out and he will finally become one of them.

He shouldn’t expect it but if it happened with Donghyuck who promised to never leave him, of course it can happen with you who he has wronged just as bad as his brother, even if you do everything in your power to prove him wrong. Mark tends to bite the hand that feeds him, if he gnaws for far too long, surely there will be consequences.

03:46, a warm night in 2008… Aggravated and nauseous from making your suffering about himself, Mark dictates that it was enough meddling for the day. Tiresome and bleary-eyed, head thumping achingly with the music debilitating him; Mark stands up frustratedly to turn off Sinead O’Connor angrily screaming ‘you’re a liar’ over and over making him forget about the journal on his lap.

The vegan leather taunts him with its loud thump against the floor, screeching as he picks it up but in the process he drops some notes. “Fuck me!” He curses frantically, knowing you’ll definitely know he’s been snooping when none of these end up where you originally placed them. He starts to panic, he feels his heart race dangerously, his aching head is now spinning, flipping through pages to see where he can put these in, yet in the process he stops.

“Don’t beat yourself up because of him. I’ll always be on your corner and so will Jungwoo. I love you, y/n. – Jaehyunie ♡”

I love you, y/n… Not ‘we love you’ but ‘I. I love you’.

Mark’s blood runs cold, his eyes bulge. In that moment he feels his chest and heart compress, squeezing the life out of him.

This is what Mark’s fears came to. He worried so much about your unconditional love becoming conditional, that the universe allowed him to see the incriminating clue that told him that sooner than later that was to happen. Right?

 ‘Dinner on me today! NO buts! Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?! XOXO — Snoops XD.’

The pitch black ink taunts him, questioning how recent or how old these must be. The handwriting felt juvenile with every smooth corner and small bottoms. The top of every letter felt bubbly and messy when connecting. Jaehyun’s could still be neat when messy and for some reason that bothered Mark more.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the papers were crumpling between his shaky fingers. As shaky as his breath restraining whatever he was feeling. ‘Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?’ Mark repeats to himself that same question for a hundred more times, each making him more angry. ‘Who else but her husband? Me!’ He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. Drill it in the minds of everyone in your shared circle. He was capable of taking care of you!

But being capable doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t nor put effort into doing so.

No, Mark didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to jump into conclusions of infidelity or anything down that rabbit hole. He knew you wouldn’t do it. He wants to think that, he wants to believe it. You’re literally ruining yourself for him, so why would you do all that to throw it all away? Regardless, he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. 

He also once thought him and Hyuck would be in each other’s lives until they died. It later turned into him believing Hyuck would fade into the shadows of this earth and not ever see him because she would be his, choosing him, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was the opposite. He also didn’t become the renowned artist he was in his college years with a list full of connections that left him when he fell from grace. 

He didn’t end up thriving in the studio where he was meant to start over and is now in a dead-end design engineering job because of his father and his connections, not Mark’s. Did he know anything about it going in? He knew the word design but oh god how far can connections go if he landed something like that.

Even you, he met you because of his father, and the bells of the life he avoided for years rang incessantly letting him know no one can run from their faith. No matter how hard they try.

It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t in Hyuck’s shoes, it only mattered that he now knew how much pain Hyuck was going through seeing his wife rejoice in the care and love of men he considered friends. That and the fact that he was making your unraveling all about himself, at least they can share that too.

He couldn’t understand how you acted so peaceful and put together when during lunch he’d visit the cafes you frequented with Jungwoo and found you the same as the first time. Exasperated, vexed, and angry with a cigarette between your fingers when you two were to leave.

A chuckle on his lips remembering all the times you pestered him to quit smoking because you wanted him for many years to come. Now he’s not sure if you want to be with him as much, no matter how many times you write about it.

“You’re still a liar, you’re still a liar, you’re still a liar!”

Monday rolled around in which Mark swore to not allow Jungwoo another lunch date with you. Furthering his selfishness and restricting your moments of relief so he could take that time up. You wouldn't mind, right? It’s him after all…

It goes to say that when he stepped through the ample threshold of your floor with a cute little bag in his hand and some drinks in the other, that confusion crossed your mind before that thought was pushed back by adoration. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a warm smile. You felt like a child whose parents never showed up for any activities but this one. That childish glee and relief of knowing that you are loved. “Can’t pay my wife a visit?” Mark retaliates with a cheeky smile, leaning in to give you a short but sweet kiss.

You want to say it felt like when you first began dating. So sweet, tender, and soft. How he was before you married and his facade fell, showing how dependent he was. His small acts of love come through.

You want to believe it so bad that you’re willing to push back the tiny voice in your head trying to force you to question what he wanted out of you if he was willing to visit you this far.

“Well yeah,” You giggle in an effort to leave your desk. “Come, let’s go to the rooftop.” Your hand takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him along until that incessant blob of human flesh presents itself right in front of you both, blocking the way. 

“Well look at that. Your husband, right? Didn’t think you’d like the soft ones…” A mocking grin slapped on his face, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t much taller than Mark but he sure was confident to take a step closer to you both. Mark opts to carry all bags in one hand, twisting his wrist to hold your hand rather than you him.

You sigh, looking for ways to respond but Mark doesn’t give you time, walking around him with you in front, ignoring any calls from him to go back for a conversation. Such an insufferable man, Mark was aware but to you, this moment, you were still treating it like one of your earlier dates. His attentiveness and courage of protecting you. You missed that Mark and any resentment from marrying him faded for now.

“That’s him?” Mark breaks the silence, the walk to the rooftop consisting of him complaining from these few seconds they met. If he thought this much from only that timeframe, you wonder how long he would have lasted in your shoes. 

You responded to his complaints with nods and hums, taking a seat across from him on the bistro table. He laid back on the chair relaxed, if it wasn’t for his babbling one would think he wasn’t really affected.

“And, I mean, he’s such a dick.” He groans, sitting up straight, his roll of eyes halting upon noticing you pick at one half of the sandwich. 

Mayo wiped off, pickles on the bundle of used napkins, the turkey they touched on top of them, chunks of old avocado added to the tower. “What are you doing? Why are you picking at your food all of the sudden?” He leans against the table, elbows on the glass to be closer to you. In that instance, you stop your actions, looking at him through lashes before raising your head.

“Mark, I don't like these. I thought you knew by now…”

Fuck.

“No, yeah, I know. I’m sorry…” His hand leaves his chin, stretching it to hold yours. “Sorry, I forgot to check the order at the cafe, I didn’t want traffic to get me.” You smile at him, he smiles at you. You know he’s lying but it’s the thought that counts. “Plus, I think I came at the perfect time. Imagine I had come later and he had bothered you more?” His fingers squeeze yours, a little too hard if you say so. 

He’s received with a shrug. “He’s a dick, like you said.” You giggle softly, pulling your hand away to wipe them with another napkin. “He doesn’t react like that with Jaehyun, though. Does everything to avoid him.” Your head tilts, reassembling the sandwich to presentability. 

“Jaehyun?” You gave him that same look as when he questioned you seconds earlier, except it was softer and almost incriminating. You didn’t mean it in any form, more casually but after his findings, Mark can’t say he’s too happy with this information.

“Oh, well, when you can’t bring what I ask you to, I… sometimes ask Jae. So, they've met before…” Your gaze lowers, taking the other sandwich half onto your hands. “I think he’s scared of Jae, to be honest.” You giggle in attempts to break whatever tension you felt from your husband.

‘Jae, Jae, Jae. Christ, what a broken record.’ Mark thought, an urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his coworker. For fucks sake, he was the last thing he wanted to think about or even see. The only reason he saw him today was because of work but that should be it. He shouldn’t be hearing or thinking about his name here with you. Let alone hear it coming from you, his wife.

Stretching your hand towards him, you smile. “Here, eat the other half. These are huge on their own.” He took it, lunch soured by your incessant need to bring up Jaehyun and that dickhead from earlier.

Was this how he was paid? Making an effort to be a good husband just to have things be thrown in his face?

Lunch ended not too long after, he was on his own lunch break after all. It goes to say that his drop off and goodbye bid seemed lackluster in comparison to his greeting.

“Um, and don’t forget to file a floor change.” He gave you a tired smile and a quick kiss. It was the last thing he said to you while fixing any pictures of you two on your desk —three missing now— before heading towards the elevator. 

Like an act of a malice-meaning demon, when reaching the twelfth floor, the doors yanked themselves open like a grand introduction to a world renowned boxer or an all-show wrestler, showcasing that smug pug-faced asshole. A silent chuckle upon placing himself next to Mark who slumped against the railing and mirror walls.

Mark greeted him with a huff, head lolling similar to his eyes. The feeling got worse when he heard him blubbering, “At first I thought that the other guy was her boyfriend. You know, tall, dimples; suits her better.” He nods to himself, egging Mark’s ringing ears.

Here they went again. Bringing Jaehyun into every conversation. It’s made worse knowing that this idiot felt even Jaehyun could be your partner. That no matter how many images of Mark you display, to the world only Jae was good enough for you. Because he’s the only one who shows up.

“He seems like an actual man or that guy from the floor below. The orange haired one, a little weird but he surely goes out of his way to not let me have some fun for the day.” He laughs, snorting at his abhorrence. He turns to Mark, swallowing that disgusting lump of mucus in his throat, hand itching to come in contact with Mark’s smooth cheek. A pat of mockery. “She’s doing charity work with you.” 

Ironic, Mark would say. Ironic that he thinks you’re doing charity work with him when this idiot was never an afterthought. The older man insists on glaring at Mark, not letting their gazes drop, seeking any response from Mark even when the elevator rings, letting them know they’ve hit the garage lobby. He felt victorious feeling as if he had struck a nerve when Mark hopped off without a peep. Only for his triumph to be shut down shortly after.

“No wonder she has never mentioned you before. You’re repulsive to even think about and a sorry excuse for a man.”

A disgusted scowl replaced Mark’s poker face, glaring at the once mocking jackass whose face had sagged, shock turning into anger that he didn’t know how to express before the doors closed, making his target disappear from view.

Mark might have felt great in the moment but things could only go worse for you. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He never did. He didn’t think about how it would affect you at work and the repercussions you faced for the weeks to come. Mark hadn’t processed he was at fault until your journal became frantic, pages with holes from how hard you wrote on them. Crumpled from the anger you couldn’t express besides abusing those pages.

He didn’t notice because he was indulging amongst the side notes and words highlighted with your tears about how scared you were of losing him. Your quick remarks on how you felt him pulling away or acting odd. Imploring to whichever higher being to not take him from you if that was the case. While you’re wallowing in the pits of your sadness hoping he won’t leave you, Mark enjoys the feeling of warmth seeing your desperation.

It meant you loved him, right? With how things were going on with Jaehyun, Mark took any crumb of your love that only felt real when you wrote about it. It’s hard to understand why he didn’t feel it was real when it came from your lips but it did when you confessed to the things you’ve put yourself through for him. For him, not Jaehyun, him, Mark. That felt like love.

Right, only on paper it felt like love. Not like now that you found yourself in Johnny’s kitchen with Jaehyun next to you like a guard dog, chewing your ear off with whatever he was saying despite your look of anguish. A worrying look to Mark and the likes of his— well, your friend it seems.

He had been enjoying the final match with Johnny, Yanyang, and the other coworkers they shared. You had been sitting by his side for most of it but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago that Jaehyun pulled you aside, asking for your help to make some drinks for the rest of the guests but now he was holding you hostage, begging you to drink some water.

Mark figured the drinks you had were getting to you and Jaehyun could tell. He won’t say he’s fond of that fact. That Jaehyun knows you well to the point he can tell when you need to be cut off.

Mark tried not making it obvious but when only his head isn’t turned to the TV and the host is making sure his guests are having a good time, well it’s hard to miss. Johnny notices it too, how Jaehyun was fixing you a slider, the words: “You haven’t eaten well, stop trying to fool me.” sternly spewing from his mouth.

No mayo, no pickles, no condiments at all. Just a plain cheeseburger slider. He knew how you liked it by heart and that’s something that makes Mark’s heart pound in hate.

The feeling becomes worse when your whispering turns frantic and almost audible for the rest to hear. Your words whining like you wanted to cry about how hellish work has become after Mark’s visit. Jaehyun shakes his head, hands pressing against the counter to lean against with an angry look on his face. That infamous look of hollow cheeks and sunken dead eyes. He wanted to say something but knew it was best to be a shoulder to lean on.

“And don’t tell me to talk to him about it because what’s the use?! You know how he is. I love him, I do but—” Your hands come in contact with your forehead, shaking it a bit, “Why can’t he just be a tad bit like you?…” You hiccuped, hands slowly sliding down to your mouth as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t a sign of regret but exhaustion, vile stuck in your throat. 

Jaehyun’s face softened, standing up straight to turn to you. To some form of comfort, his hand extends to rub your back, pulling you in for a side hug while you try to hold in whatever you feel. Jaehyun understands your words come from a place of hurt but confessions like that can be taken wrongly.

“Why can’t he be just a tad bit like you?...” Just like Mark had, who now felt his heart shatter. Disillusioned and hurt, stupid for thinking that you would want him no matter what. Worse off, it was Jaehyun who you confessed that to. Someone that everyone thought was a better fit for you.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.

Johnny took it upon himself to raise the volume of the TV, sparing Mark from any more anguish and saving your business to be heard by the other guests who by the graces of God were more interested in who would win the Stanley Cup this season.

His attempts didn’t work. Mark felt his world crashing down on him in this instance. He wanted to go out and scream, cry even, at the reviving memories flashing through his head. He’s seen this before— no, he’s experienced this.

Her cries to him about Hyuck to soon commence their affair in that same instance. If that was to happen in these walls, Mark thinks it’s his time to take a leap out of Johnny’s apartment balcony.

So when you leave me, I should die. I deserve it, don’t I? I can feel it getting near.

The vile stuck in your throat had been persistent on coming out, enough to push Jaehyun out of the way to run towards Johnny’s bathroom. It’s amazing how enthralled with the game his guests were to not notice anything happening behind them. To not feel Mark’s radiating poison as he watches his wife and ‘friend’ rush towards the bathroom, door slamming behind him. If it wasn’t for Jeno’s and Yangyang’s cheering scream, they would hear you hurl the slider into the toilet bowl, crying along with self-disgust.

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore; abruptly he stands, ignoring Johnny’s sympathetic look. Not only for him but for you too, aware of Mark’s own flaws. He had thoughts of barging in and blowing Jaehyun’s ear off with his barking. Questioning you about what was going on, but he slowed down when he heard you hiccup and cry before and after vomiting. Jaehyun’s soothing hushes to you making his head spin but innocent enough.

Innocent until he opened his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, pretty girl.” Jaehyun coos into Mark’s eardrum through a megaphone to imprint the notes of his voice onto his brain. 

Pretty girl. That’s his pet name for you, Mark’s pet name. Hurt floods him when you make no effort to correct him and present this fact.

Since when have you become someone else’s pretty girl?

He couldn’t take it any longer, angrily slamming the door open to watch Jaehyun soothing you with backrubs, holding your hair as you went.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mark spits out venom, mimicking that of a cobra. His eyes widened by hot fury as he approached you two. You wanted to speak, but the invasion from your gut stopped you, tears being the only thing you were able to respond with.

Jaehyun on the other hand gives him a look as if to tell him to calm down, that everything was fine, more worried about your well being than Mark’s insecurities. “Just helping her out, calm down.”

It aggravated him how collected Jaehyun’s words were, how little mind he paid him or how you made no effort to have Jaehyun stop giving you supportive squeezes (almost like you weren’t fighting for your life).

Mark huffs, hands taking purchase on his waist watching you two, the volume to the television and the guests drawn out by your heaving. He whispers, walking towards Jaehyun with that same menacing look– eye roll worthy, Jaehyun would say.

“I just fucking heard you, she’s my wife. What the fuck are you trying to do?” His finger rose to poke at Jaehyun’s shoulder. The taller one of the two feeling offended by Mark’s accusations and thoughts that he’d snake him like that. Jaehyun was not Mark.

“Sorry, that’s on me,” Jaehyun slaps Mark’s hand away, creating some distance. “I'm just helping her—” “Back the fuck off, she’s my wife…” 

Tired enough by this facade, Jaehyun scowls at Mark, pushing past him towards the door. “Then don’t be a shitty husband and she won’t have to seek other people to do what you can’t! I know how to respect marriages well enough, if anything I’m just helping her. Something you should do for once in your fucking life.”

Jaehyun bites back, watching Mark’s face falter as he slams the door behind him while you continue your sobbing. Overwhelmed by your bodily reaction but mostly for what just ensued in this room. With no form to defend yourself and Jaehyun. Hurt that Mark thought you two would betray him like he’s done to those before you.

You believe me like a God, I’ll betray you like a man.

In that instance Mark wanted to run to Jaehyun and gouge his eyes out, rip his stupid freshly bleached hair out, and beat him until he was nothing else than liquid matter. The words rang horribly inside his head to the point he was seeing red, his vision blurred and stars were floating in his eyes.

History was repeating itself and he was finally paying his wrong doings. He thought Jungwoo and Jaehyun were his friends but Hyuck thought the same of him and now he’s found himself in this predicament.

You're sweet, you're lovely. You go out of your way to make Mark happy so it was him all along. He's the problem and karma is finally making him pay the price.

Jaehyun understood it was his fault for being careless and using pet names but can one blame him when he was worried? Someone has to if not the one who bowed to do so. Even when he’s gone from eye sight, Jaehyun’s efforts are felt through Johnny who knocks on the door. Mark opens it slightly, Johnny standing before him with a glass of water and baking soda. Telling him about how Jaehyun sent him before leaving; for you to swish your mouth with this and drink some sparkling water to soothe your stomach ache.

Mark took it without a word, nodding at Johnny before shutting the door in his face as if this wasn’t his home. You were up on your feet by the time Mark turned around, lid closed as you flushed the toilet, reaching the sink to rinse your mouth before taking the glass from his hand. No words from either of you.

He looked at you through the mirror, arms crossed and factions softening upon noticing how tired and sick you looked. Gauntly, lips and eyes puffed out, and cheeks streaked. It was best to go home after that incident, only giving Johnny an apologetic goodbye while the rest of the guests paid no mind. On your end you were out of the apartment already, embarrassment laced on your face. 

And even through the car ride, all you could think about was Mark’s words and actions. Memories of Mark smugly telling his ex-best friend words Jaehyun spat at him flooded his vision, making it dangerous for him to be driving. To his side you grunted in discomfort, feeling as if vile was to rise from you again but he paid you no mind, made no effort to comfort you, more focused on his own feelings.

The look Hyuck had on his face eight years ago was the one Mark mirrors this night. One way or another one will pay for all their sins and you were his cross.

He didn’t talk to you for the remainder of the night. Didn’t care enough to question why you fell ill or how frightened you were about the possibility that this may be it, that this was his excuse to leave you behind.

The thoughts, his actions and words clouding your mind through your shower, skin care routine, and brushing your teeth. Spending minutes upon minutes doing the latter, disgusted by yourself. Brushing away all the vile you wanted to throw at him but instead ended down Johnny’s plumbing. For only Jaehyun to hear and understand.

Mark laid down on his side by the time you came out of the bathroom. You knew he was angry, his stiff body making no effort to move even when feeling the bed sink under your knees. He tried not to move when he felt your arms wrap around him seeking comfort in his warmth, but Mark wasn’t willing to give it to you. Without a care if he hurt you, which is what he did.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Your words made his eyes open. Startled, his body hardens under your touch, almost like your upcoming tears were freezing him on the spot. Damp on his sleeping shirt but hot on his back. He turns abruptly, pushing back a bit in the process. “What are you even ta—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” You cut him off, voice raising to something he’s never heard before. “You’ve been so distant. More than usual and I can’t take it anymore!” Your palms cover your eyes, pushing back tears, forbidding you to look at that mocking grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You’re the one who grows distant when I beckon you near.

His voice on the other hand makes sure you know how he feels. “You think so? I think this is the closest I’ve been to you.” He chuckles, taking into account that look of confusion on your face as you put down your hands, resting them on your lap. “Why don’t you tell me anything, Y/n? You tell Jungwoo everything. You ask Jaehyun to do everything for you. I’m your husband, why don't you don’t you trust me enough?” 

Your confusion falls, disgust and anger replace it. “When I ask anything out of you, you never want to nor know how to do it.” Your voice was hurt, head shaking a tad with every syllable, hate laced into each one. He hated how much your reaction resembled Jaehyun’s.

He doesn’t want to admit you’re right, “You ask the most absurd of favors.” He scoffs, sitting up to be face to face with you. “Are you fucking serious? You’re a grown man who can’t cook or clean for himself. Up until I saw you at the bakery I thought you didn’t know where it was but then I saw you with another girl there.” You huff, arms flailing like when you’re with Jungwoo. 

There would be some satisfaction in him to know your true self is here talking with him but bringing old news made him groan. “I thought you said it was fine and we’d drop it there.” He takes into account the glare you’re throwing him, smoke coming out of your ears the longer neither of you speak.

If he had known a few drinks would do this to you, he would have not let you drink. The thing is, Mark pays no mind to you to not notice you’ve drank mocktails all night. He was more worried about Jaehyun than you.

“It’s not fine when you’re with some other girl to a place you keep avoiding when I ask you to go. Is it because of her? Is she the one taking my place now?” Your voice came out choppy, acheful, with the question, inhaling and exhaling to calm yourself down.

He on the other hand doesn’t take it kindly, annoyed that you’d think about him that way but that's what he’s been thinking about you, so what difference does it make? It would not be his first rodeo, so are you that insane to think of him like that?

I’ll betray you like a man.

Mark stands from the bed, crouching to eye-level with you as if you were a child he’s lecturing. “It’s not because of her, I don’t give a fuck about her! I barely know her, she is just an intern, and hasn't been there for a month now! We were sent by my boss!” His fingers poke his temple, in a form to tell you to get it through your head.

“But I’m right? You don’t love me anymore.”

Mark stands up straight in disbelief with your words despite none defending his case coming from his own mouth. He could see how your heart was crushing with every passing second.

The truth is hiding in your eyes and it’s hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. 

“All this time I thought you were calm… level headed— but you're the opposite... you don’t talk to me, you tell Jaehyun and Jungwoo everything. Why can’t you tell me everything? Why can't you need and trust me?” His voice softens, calming down.

“Because you don’t ever want to listen to me! I can’t need you when you do everything in your power for me not to!” Truth is, he did know how to clean and cook for himself, he's done it before but he's grown selfish and dependent.

Your outburst left him speechless, all the sighs he had to give stuck and dispersed through every crevice of his interior, poisoning his flow. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I give and give and give but I never receive! I love you so much, it's become so painful that I rather let it slide than be far from you.” You crawl closer to the edge of the bed, hoping to minimize the distance between you two. The feeling of proximity only seems to feel farther, leaving room for a blizzard to rest between you two.

Mark knows he’s not man enough, your coworker said it. He knows he doesn’t help or take care of you, Jaehyun and Jungwoo told him so. None of these men had to tell him for him to know he doesn’t deserve you. It just so happens to be that Mark is selfish and wasn’t able to process it until now. He swore he believed you through writing but now, with you telling him directly— reality is forcing itself upon him.

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“What?” You ask confused and startled, looking up at him with fury in your eyes. “What? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re married and we’ll stay this way! It's not as easy as you let out, asshole.” You sniffle, getting off the bed now, approaching him despite the gap he’s formed between you two. In all senses. 

“You’re just not who I fell in love with anymore.”

You wanted to rip his hair out, claw his skin and inject your pain and love into him so he could understand what you felt. You knew he was selfish but how fucking stupid could he be? 

“You’re so— you’re no fucking better than anyone else. You fell in love with the idea you made of me. Whatever the fuck that is! Any chance you get to see the real me you shut me down, Mark! Why can’t you just love me?! Not the stupid girl you thought I was.”

Your cries stopped, hands taking purchase on his arms, squeezing tighter with the adrenaline of wrath coursing through your veins. You were tired, tired of his foolishness and in times like these, you weren’t going to let him ruin what you’ve built.

“You fell in love with an idealized version of me too, if you’re still this in love.” Mark gulps, making no effort to move but his eyes felt heavy and tired. Hurt even, not sure if for himself or for you, empathy winning for once. Pity sounds better.

You think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are. If you’re man at all.

“I see you for who you fucking are. You’re selfish, you don’t want to do things for others unless you’re getting something out of it. You weaponize your incompetence for me to do things for you. You’re insecure especially with other men around me because you think of yourself exactly the opposite as them unless they’re more pathetic compared to you.” Your finger poked his chest, reminiscing on how he began berating Jaehyun.

“You’re especially jealous of your friends because they offer more for me than you do and that’s your fault.  You project your insecurities and mistakes onto them and me because you’re a bad friend, husband, and ultimately a bad person. Yet I’m still with you because I love you— even with everything you put me through and how you can’t help but compare me to— to her! Get over it and through your head, that was loneliness and you were the easiest victim. No one leaves their husband for someone they don't love.”

Like the pathetic man he was, he broke down. No amount of swallowing and gulping down the knot in his throat would go away. Tears streamed down his cheeks upon hearing you project onto the world what you had whispered to the toilet bowl earlier. Mark wasn’t aware that you knew about Hyuck and her but he wouldn’t doubt if you had come across letters from them both in the past just like he came across your journals. 

Having you voice what he had been thinking about since that experience caused his world to finally see true color, despite you being purposely vicious. He knew what that fling meant for her, for Hyuck, and for him. It just so happens that it meant more for him and here he was taking it out on the only person who has stuck by his side.

You loved him but you also hated him and that was more than clear to him now.

“Better reason for us to take a break. You deserve better… I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.” He sighs, sniffling, throwing his head back to not let any more tears shed. 

“I don’t care. If I go without you I’ll—I…” you clinging your nails to his shoulders trying to cut off your words. You knew what you wanted to say wasn’t healthy, not for you and not for him. Mark knows this, weeks of reading your entries allowing him to understand what goes within the walls of your brain. 

"Y/n please stop... you’re hurting me." It doesn't change the fact that feeling it was worse than reading it. “Then you’re a coward who would die within an hour in my shoes if I treated you the way you treat me.” You sternly and ferociously spit. He wails before doing the only thing he knew would calm you down. 

Leaning in, he kisses you, meekly. Pouring in the love he once had for you and the remaining he has now. But your body rejects it, feeling how phony it is. Pushing him off, running to the restroom to repeat the happenings of earlier. Mark sighs in relief to have you not corner him but in this instance concern floods him.

He follows you to the bathroom, standing by the door frame with crossed arms. Watching you hold your hair like Jaehyun had done earlier. Tears back in your eyes as you continue to lash out your rage against the white porcelain that's witnessed this on other occasions. Although this was one that should symbolize happiness, yet it’s clear you both won’t take it as such.

Mark took a look at his watch, 11:28PM. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll take you to urgent care, you probably just need some electrolytes.” He approaches you, aiming to help you up but you resist, shaking your head defeatedly. 

“I’m not drunk.” You let out through gritted teeth. “No?” He questions smugly, annoyed at your rejection. “They were mocktails. These are normal symptoms.” He gives you a quizzical look. “Look in the drawer, Nancy Drew.” You huff, mocking him for his detective work these past weeks. It was only natural he’d find out eventually if he kept meddling in your journals.

With furrowed eyes, and look remaining, Mark pulls at the white drawer, the cold metal burning his warm hand. He digs and digs through piles of papers. All bills or old letters neither of you cared enough for. Reaching the bottom Mark feels something solid wrapped around a newer piece of paper. In comparison to the yellowing pages, this was white and bright, tied with a rubber band around the solid material.

He throws you a quick glance while taking it into his hands, unraveling the rubber to open it and come to view with three sticks, all with matching two-pink stripes. Any ounce of hope to restart is gone with the weight in his hands. Disappearing when he read the paper.

‘Laboratory report Patient: Y/n Lee. Sampled collected: May 15, 2008. Report date: May 20, 2008 Status: Pregnant Gestational age: 5-8 weeks.’

Mark reads it over and over, finally having the courage to look at you. His eyes wide and dim, reflecting on your cold angry ones. This was it. It was his life. What you would have taken as a beautiful moment, you can now agree this seals your faith. The look you gave him mirroring his misery. At least now you both were on board for once, basking in the fact this was a deadend no matter what.

You both know nothing will get fixed, all there is left is to pretend for the life that’s growing within you. Wreckless as ever, and the cycle of life continues. An innocent life to suffer the trails of a failed relationship for years to follow. That’s all Mark knows, that’s all you know. Generational curses don't end with either of you.

if you liked happy together: it’s too bad you’re married… to me, you’ll enjoy: stupid girl !

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disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

playlist: government hooker, judas, bloody mary, heavy metal lover — lady gaga | sweet dreams (are made of these), personal jesus — marilyn manson | precious, blasphemous rumors — depeche mode | la cérémonie — dominique ney | blue — the birthday massacre

an: happy mass sunday here’s another church boy mark au I’ve been working on for the past 8 months ☠️ please ignore my catholic church conflict and projection; I AM the original fleabag and church boy mark au/projection blueprint lmfao on a real note yall don’t understand how much I loved doing research for this, I just love the research part for my fics LOVE IT <3

“The body of Christ.”

“Amen…”

It was the simple action of your tongue gracing his index finger as you stuck your tongue out during the Eucharist. The way his thumb couldn’t miss coming in contact with your upper lip and leaving him with the desire of wanting to savor your taste after all he’s repressing.

Father Lee hesitated to turn around to collect the golden chalice, your swollen lips from biting them in order to repress your cries and your tear stained face sparking something within him figuring those rivers engraved on your smoothened cheeks stemmed from your guilt of thoughts and dreams he starred in.

Father Lee knew he shouldn’t enjoy the pain he was making you endure. He knew he shouldn’t even consider falling to the temptations of the flesh, that the devil was only taunting him and you but with every other confession coming from your pretty lips and angelic voice— Mark feared he wasn’t as strong willed as he let the church believe.

“The blood of Christ…” He sighed this time around, your chest heaving in regret and need as you looked at him longer than usual, obvious want pooling in your pupils and threatening tears.

“Amen…” Whether it be the unforgiving heat of this horrid summer or your body heat mirroring what you cannot vocally express, Father Lee felt that spark once again the moment your fingers graced each other as you took the chalice from his hands.

Your lips coming in contact with the gold and leaving a red stain on it after swallowing multiple times despite only one sip was to be taken, a recollection of your insatiable thirst for the priest facing you.

Mark watched intently as beads of the red liquid spilled from the corner of your lips, making a passage from your jaw and slowly rolling down your throat to settle on your chest and staining the white lace lining of your bodice.

He felt his eyes flutter, trying his best to ignore the feelings a simple bead of wine could do to him. Even when he opened his eyes and noticed your fingers softly wiping it away, he tried his best to not sigh and give both of you away.

Time had only moved slowly while you stood before him to the point the bright sun that created a halo behind him had dulled and was nothing more than cloudiness, mirroring how quickly evil can win over.

The choir sang loudly as you stride towards the front pew you’ve sat on the entire mass, your help deep into her own prayer not noticing the whirlpool of emotions.

“I devoutly adore you, hidden deity who are truly hidden beneath appearances. [1]” perfectly situated again, you lifted your gaze, looking at him through the pearls of tears resting firmly on your waterline.

You couldn’t say your tears were much from guilt. After a few past confessions with Father Lee you had begun to embrace those dreams, if anything you were crying out of yearning and desire.

Being mere feet away from him was consuming you alive. Just hearing his voice, his whispering prayers, his silent singing as the choir continued their hymns, his pouting lips with every syllable, and the way his eyes shined every time he threw glances your way.

Oh those glances were your demise and with his subtle touches from earlier during the Eucharist, it was all further more difficult.

‘My whole heart submits to you, because in contemplating you, it’s fully deficient.’

One could only describe his glances as both stern and delicate. Stern given he was trying his best to contain himself but delicate in the way he was beginning to understand your inner tumult.

If only he hadn’t chuckled at your initial dream in which only small touches and longing stares occurred. If only he hadn’t told you it was natural and to just ignore it as it wasn’t a big sin in his eyes. After all it’s not the first time people have confessed to such, he is a very attractive man of faith at the end of the day.

He found it cute at the beginning of all this. After he had been introduced to the town as a new priest given the death of Father Federico on his way to talk some sense into the king of England; you were his only close friend.

It didn’t matter that the both of you were of an opposite sex. He was a man of faith who would rather die than betray the lord and you were a married woman, a Duchess at that.

You couldn’t just betray your nobility, the court, and the church— you yourself had an image to protect as he did and no one doubted the both of you to ever think of doing anything else.

But here you were after months, confessing to him all the lewd dreams you’ve had of him. Of the way he handled you and how great he made you feel even without touching you in reality.

Yes, at first you felt guilt and disgust. Guilt for allowing your mind to roam, for betraying the friendship you both had, your husband, and God.

Disgust for being blatantly open about it to the person you dreamt of. For telling him of things he’d never think of doing but had to be subjected just because he was the only one who could help you rid of sin.

But now it was different. The dreams became raunchy and more realistic, you enjoyed the way he touched you and seeing him daily wasn’t helping those feelings anymore.

It became worse on moments in which you’d both have to spend time planning the dietary stock for the children of the convent, when you’d have to deliver the packs of gold your husband sent for him to care of the town, and especially when you found yourself in that confessional booth whispering to him everything he did as he silently suffered the conflict of human nature and cleanliness.

Often times you could see his eyes flutter through the openings of the divider. You could see his pretty eyelashes slap his cheeks and his mouth become agape releasing silent moans and even if you didn’t hear them at least you could see his pretty lips release them.

It seems as it’s not much different now. As the altar servers began to rang the bell signaling the mass was over and he spoke loudly over the choir to let everyone know confessionals were now in session, Father Lee threw a quick glance your way once his sentence ended.

His eyes caught yours in the act, holding the stare for seconds that seemed like hours before he shyly looked away to smile at the elderly woman who approached him in hopes to have their new sculptures, rosaries, or religious imagery blessed.

You took that chance yourself, standing up from the pew and clutching the red beads of your golden rosary, something your husband seemed to have sent a week after arriving at England (a gift of ex-Queen Catherine).

It contrasted perfectly with your dress, the bright blood color of your overgrown and layered skirt, the golden embroidery of the gown, sleeves, and hair net.

From his peripheral view, Mark saw you make way towards him. Your hand clutching the shimmering rosary your help, Lita had been taking care of all along.

As he blessed the items the other women held, he noticed you stand besides in hopes to have some time with him.

Your eyes roamed around the cathedral in the meantime, noticing the glares from those etched into the stained glass and the bloody weeping of saints perched into the golden shelves above said windows.

They knew of your dealings and knew you held no remorse but all you could do was ignore them as you’ve now ignored any holiness.

With a deep sigh of your own as you glanced at the red trails of bloody tears, you let it out bowing your head and finally approaching Father Lee once the clanking of their shoes seemed faint.

“Would thou bless the rosary… and me, Father?” Slowly looking up at him, Mark felt his breathe hitch in his throat. Your sultry gaze showing no remorse and taunting as you held the shinning item out to him.

He wasn’t going to entertain whatever you had going on, not anymore— or at least not in front of the remaining people inside the Nave.

Father Lee swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding feverishly and avoiding your eyes to not feed into what he himself was feeling.

“In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sanсti…[2].”

“Amen.”

Your whisper was all he could hear, even with the sea of chattering people standing in the narthex, the shuffling of skirts, altar serves running around and laughing while preparing for the next week’s mass— he could only focus on the sound of your voice.

His eyes danced around your face momentarily as he brought his fingers up to your face. The pads of his thumb moist with holy water, dancing across your forehead.

Mark hesitated for a few seconds, looking around to see if the choir was gone or if those waiting for confessionals weren’t around. Even to see if the people that remained at the narthex weren’t paying attention.

When he decreed there were no eyes on either of you, he dipped his index and middle finger back into the holy water. Rapid were his moves as his hand stretched out, those two fingers coming in contact with your chest.

Despite how fast he was going, his touch was delicate and soft. You could feel the burning linger even as he cleared his throat to speak to you for once besides sanctification.

“A new rosary, Duchess?” He didn’t look past the bead work, admiring how deep and bright the red was. “Yes, Father. The Duke sent it a while ago but it just now arrived.”

You played with the beads for a bit before continuing. Rolling them around your fingers just to look back at him, still no sign of his focus on you.

“The letter he sent read that it had been blessed by a priest back in England but given the situation with King Henry, you’re the only priest I trust…”

Your lips pouted unconsciously noticing his eyes fixated on the rosary. The only way of getting him to look at you was to wear it and so he follows it’s every move.

From how it dangled in front of your face, how it slipped over your netted hair bumping into the pearls adorning it, to having it rest against your chest— cross perfectly sitting on your cleavage.

His stare lingered on the intricate design of the cross, the red and golden beads, even the glimmer of tiny black jewels under the golden sacred heart.

It was beautiful to say the least but not as beautiful as the flesh around it. Your skin glowy and smooth, with just the few seconds he touched it he craved more— Lord what was he thinking? Curse the desire of the flesh.

When he finally snapped out of it, Mark shook himself lightly, his eyes opening and closing in hopes of snapping some sense into him.

It took him a couple of seconds to finally look at you directly but how he regretted doing so. When his eyes laid on your pouted lips that turned into a smile once you noticed his attention and how your eyes sparkled at it— Father Lee couldn’t deny he’s having the hardest time in all of his sacred life.

“Will I be expecting you in the booth today, Duchess?” His voice broke you out of your own admiration. You only nodded, hand coming over to clutch the cross of your rosary.

Mark wouldn’t admit it but he found joy in knowing you’d be spewing your vulgar anecdotes against his ear once again.

As much as he’s fighting to keep his cleanliness, the fire of hell brewing in his chest and groin was stronger than perpetual bliss next to God.

He nodded, turning on his heel without bidding you goodbye. Not until he was reaching the left arc towards the confessional hall that he turned to look at you once again, his hands behind his back.

“I ask you wait until everyone has left the hall, I don’t need you to disrupt the integrity of others at my hands.”

His words were harsh, piercing through your chest and into your heart, making you wince when he turned his back on you again.

Perhaps he thought that a cold and mean streak to your relationship would cause for your fixation to start to dwindled but it seemed as the venom in his voice that pierced your heart had ignited something in you.

He didn’t get to see your reaction and though he regretted saying it out loud as Lita and the altar servers were coming back inside, Mark hoped that would calm down your fleeting feelings.

Though the longer he thought about it, that had only excited him as well. His venomous words stung against his tongue, a pleasurable type of stinging and if he didn’t know better you’d tell him about those words in future dreams.

But as he crossed the arc to the confessional hall and saw all those burdened souls waiting for him, Mark could do nothing else but put up a front for them in the name of faith.

Smiling warmly to all of them, with a hand he motioned for the first person at the pew to approach the box.

“Bless me father for I…”

The words were repetitive and dull, they held no meaning as he and the people knew they didn’t mean their apologies.

As he lazily rested upon the red cushion of his box, Mark only listened to the monotonous voices of the towns people.

Their sins ranged from the guilt of feeling anything at all to either violence or theft but the ones that stuck with him were those of adultery or lust alone.

The ones of women confessing to feeling arousal for once in their life or those men confessing to cheating on their wives while they had an ideal image of them.

Not because he felt arousal himself from those stories, if anything he felt disgusted. He really couldn’t give a shit about the details and would quickly shoo them away telling them to pray it away. Clear frustration and disgust in his voice, annoyed at how much of his time they were taking.

They only piqued his interest due to how much they reminded him of you. How their words would make him imagine you sitting in their position.

Oh how badly he was craving to hear you again even if it was in the raunchiest way.

No! Forgive him Lord as he’s falling into temptation.

“Alright, alright. I get what you’re saying just ask your wife for forgiveness without saying much and pray three Hail Mary’s and Exodus 20:14 twenty times each day until your guilt is gone.” Mark rolled his eyes at the man besides him, the curtain draping over the wooden partition shielding him from all his complaining.

He ignored the thank you’s of the yearning man next to him, stretching his limbs before opening the door to his box, his actions followed by the older man on the other side.

Wiping away the sweat from fear of scolding, the man turned to Father Lee one last time and bowing from gratitude hoping to be received with a blessing.

Obvious enough, Mark held in his sigh and eye roll until he left. His arm moving as the sign of the cross and bidding him goodbye.

Finally with such, Father Lee sighed loudly, a grunt following behind and his eyes shut tightly instead of rolling them. His finger pinching the bridge of his nose.

It was crazy to believe that he actually enjoyed his holy duties. Before coming to this town he would enjoy helping the people, he liked hearing their confessions and ridding them of sin.

He wanted to blame you. He wanted to shift the blame to you and claim it as your fault for corrupting him but he knew he couldn’t do that.

At least not when you hadn’t done anything besides be honest and do what your faith called: confessed to all your sins.

No. It was his fault and solely his fault. It was his fault for falling into the traps the devil has set and used you as bait. It was his fault for burning out so quickly with only five months as priest.

If anything it was thanks to you that he’s found out that perhaps there’s something else to life— Forgive him Lord as he doesn’t know what he’s thinking!

Regaining his composure, Mark looked around the confessional hall. It was empty and silent, only the echos from altar serves sweeping the nave and aisles.

For a second he felt fright. Usually you were already at the pew waiting for your turn to confess but not today. You weren’t in the confessional hall and when he looked back inside the nave you weren’t sat on the pew.

His heart was beginning to palpitate harder, he could almost feel it ready to rip through his rib cage and leave shards of bone and flesh from this insane emotion he was feeling.

Mark almost felt guilt given his harshness from earlier, fearing you had taken them to heart and felt shame. It wasn’t until he heard laughter from the courtyard that his curiosity got the best of him.

His body walked towards it, walking to the opposite side of the confessional hall and to the door next to the chancel.

There as he exited the principal area, Mark saw you with your help and a nun from the convent behind the main area of the cathedral.

Hearing your laugh alone had brought him back to the first months of knowing you. That innocence and naivety that was clear as day on your face.

Sometimes he missed that girl, the girl he became friends with and he could confide in as you could confide in him but it’s not like he himself didn’t change in just these months of knowing you.

Despite your initial friendship being pure, something was bound to happen the instance you both looked forward to see each other, your dreams just being the catalyst to tempt this relationship.

“Mother Superior, Lita, Duchess… afternoon.” He softly smiled, his hands smoothing his chasuble, the red cloth seeming darker than the last time you saw him with only the orphreys bright as day.

The lot of you smiled at him, welcoming him into the conversation and greeting him accordingly.

“Reverend,” Mother Superior began, her lips rapidly falling upon his hand, your help mirroring her actions.

It was until your turn had followed that the moment you took his hand into both of yours and you slowly lifted your eyes looking at him and spoke: “Father Lee.”

That his breathe hitched in the back of his throat for the millionth time today alone. Once his hand was raised up to your lips, that he felt the most pleasurable tingle run through him.

The softness of your lips against his flesh. They were warm and pillowy and somewhat moist but he wouldn’t dare wipe it off as it came from you, especially not after your rouge transferred to his skin.

He was elated to say the least and you knew so. It was evident in the way you stared intently into his own eyes chasing any type of response beside the one that you saw right now.

But given the situation you both were in only a sly smirk formed on your lips before he turned from you to the Mother Superior to instigate into the previous conversation.

“I see, so the children are helping vendors set up?” His eyebrow raised upon the news. Quite honestly to him it seemed like exploitation, they were only kids there was no need to spend a sacred Sunday helping people who could do things on their own rather than spending it celebrating.

Mother Superior seemed to understand the tone he said those words in, his expression not helping either as he tied his hands behind his back once again and looked down to the withering grass (that alone bothering him as well).

“Though, it’s been a long day so I’ll ask the remaining sisters to help me gather them back…” frustrating how she’s head of the convent but feels the weight of his position.

Mark only nodded with a sweet smile replacing his sour face, turning to the woman to display it further more. “It’d be really lovely if you all could entertain and celebrate with them at the festival, you deserve some fun as well Reverend Mother.”

With the fluttering in her stomach, Mother Superior turned herself from the three to hide the blush creeping upon her plump face.

Easy as it was to fluster another woman, Mark turned to you, finally acknowledging your presence again. “Won’t you join the festival tonight, Duchess?”

His question was simple but his voice alone could cause the same reaction that Mother Superior had “Would you recommended it, Father? I only have Lita with me as of now, I’d have to call in a guard if I do… or would you personally escort me around?”

God he knew it was too good for you to be calm, your teasing was only increasing and all he could do in return was chuckle, “For your safety I’d be glad to take that responsibility.”

And play your game with a smirk forming on his lips.

Perhaps as stated before no one would’ve thought about the friendship you both held. It was innoncent after all but neither Lita (your help) and Reverend Mother could denounce the tension they both quickly felt after the interaction.

All they could do was ignore it as it was a first. “It’d be an honor to tag along if I’m allowed. There’s some ideas I’ve gotten for the convent, Duchess.” Mother Superior added, breaking the tension you both withheld.

Trying to not seem so obvious you turned to her with a smile and a nod. Father Lee himself agreed adding that her ideas were bright only to add fuel to her own turmoil of conflict between faith and human nature.

“Should we get going then? I don’t doubt the food will be magnificent.” The woman spoke with a wide smile that made her rotund cheeks reach her eyes.

Shifting from your position, you turned to Father Lee momentarily before her. “You and Lita can get a head start, I was supposed to go into confessionals after mass with Father Lee, Reverend Mother.”

As her gaze shifted from you to Father Lee, the Mother Superior’s smile dwindled significantly as she nodded.

It’s nothing she could control, it was his duties as a sheep of God and who was she to deny someone from confessing?

Given so with orders from you to collect flowers for the altar at home and seeds for the birds, Lita left both of you followed by the Mother Superior to look for nuns at the convent and make way to care for the children at the festival.

When he knew they were both gone, Mark sprinted from door to door around the courtyard. Checking the kitchen, winery, pantry, and upstairs rooms to check no one was near.

Even when you looked at him puzzled as he left you in the courtyard to ward away altar servers, he didn’t speak until he had come back for you.

“Anything troubling you, Father? Should I be the one to hear your sins today?” A cheeky smile threatened to form on your lips.

Mark didn’t react to such even if he felt something cling to his chest and pull at it. All he could muster was to look down at you with no expression on his face and a sigh of frustration to leave his lips.

Lifting his hand, Mark motioned for you to follow him before he spoke. “Confessing another nightmare, Duchess?” He didn’t turn to look at you only trusting that you were trailing behind him.

His pace was fast and the clanking of his shoes against the tile became louder when crossing the threshold that connected the courtyard to the cathedral.

“I don’t think I could call them that anymore, Father…” despite his fast steps, you trailed behind him stepping on his heel and the only thing stopping him was the feeling of your hand clutching his wrist.

Mark turned to look at you startled with this initiation in skin ship. If he wasn’t feeling conflicted already then this smallest of touch was throwing him further into a spiral.

Sure you had kissed his hand earlier but that was only a formal greeting and sure he had touched you quite more than this earlier during the Eucharist and blessing but this— with your fingers around his wrist and traveling down to intertwine your fingers with his while still holding him with your remaining hand— he was going insane.

Your statement didn’t make it any better. He laughed at your first dream of touches and lingering stares but now it was happening and it weighed more than what you had recalled from the dream.

“Duchess, please…” he meekly spoke, obvious fear in his voice. Your grip only tightened on his hand and as much as he felt the need to pull you closer to him, Mark reluctantly separated his hand from yours.

Looking towards the floor and then to the red fabrics adorning the building, Mark sighed to himself, his hand resting against his forehead before beginning to walk again.

“Would you like to pray before confession starts?” His feet dragging themselves towards the confessional hall, hoping that if you did it’d give him time to recollect his composure.

You only shook your head to yourself before speaking again. “I was hoping we could do this in a private box. I don’t think I have it in me to do it in a communal area.”

For once in these minutes he could sense sincerity but he also feared that what you would confess was rather too lecherous.

Looking at you with that same startled look from earlier, Mark looked around before nodding. “If it’ll help you clear your mind then so be it.”

Neither of you said anything else, only allowing the noise around you to dominate the silence and the screeching of the door leading to the sacristy as he opened it to let you in.

It was mere feet away from the opening to the courtyard and behind a wall that covered the piles of votive candles left as offerings.

For it to not be his quarters it was pretty vast. The wooden floor decorated with a pretty red rug, the cabinets around topped with embroidered golden silk, candles sitting on them dripping their wax onto the copper plates.

The confessional box was right behinds a red curtain that he pushed away easily, letting the cloth hit the other box next to it.

It wasn’t of much value, after all he used it to get dressed in whenever an altar server was around.

If it weren’t for the candles the room would’ve been dark and lifeless. Considering it’s a room of holiness; no crosses or imagery was hung around. The only cross was the ones etched into paschal candles he kept perched up on the wall and a crucifix on the golden details of the box.

You took notice of how dull it was, your eyes wandering around from the kneeler facing the wall near the door to the mahogany dresses holding in his vestment.

“A window wouldn’t do any damage, Father.” You joked finally gaining his attention. Mark only chuckled, softly shaking his head. “I suppose not.”

You missed this. As much as you enjoyed how cold he was being with you as of lately you also missed how playful he was with you at the beginning.

You missed hearing him laugh or smile at something you said not hearing and seeing it caused by someone else, it didn’t feel the same.

“Perhaps next time I shall bring some decorations, no? It must not be fun looking at a blank wall.” Mark only shook his head as an answer not continuing furthermore.

Given so, his hand pointed towards the box, “Shall we begin?” As much as you wanted to continue a normal conversation it was becoming more evident that he wanted this over with and was only doing his job.

With disappointment settling, you sighed nodding, getting into the left booth and situating yourself on the leather cushion.

These were rather larger than the ones in confessional hall and the design of the divider was more beautiful.

Just as you had begun to admire the design of it and feeling a bit annoyed that you had to use a common box rather than this all this time; Mark pushed away the deep purple curtain, giving you a glimpse of his features from the carved crosses of the divider.

Mark gave you and him a few seconds before he spoke, preparing himself for whatever you were to say this time.

“Ave Maria…” he broke the piercing silence, his vestment shuffling as he did.

“Without conceived sin.”

“Tell me your sin, daughter.”

It was becoming awfully painful to repeat those words daily. He didn’t see you as anything else but a woman now. A woman he thought about daily and troubled his peace but one he would easily let entry into his eternal life.

As he noticed your hesitance to speak, Mark shifted once again still not daring to look your way.

“You don’t have any sins today?” He teased hoping that’ll help you calm down. Even if what you were to confess might sour the mood sooner or later, it was still duty to have the trust of the people who he swore to aid and cleanse.

Your breathing was all he heard and for a second he was getting chills himself. “I do, I’m sorry… bless me Father for I have sinned,”

The sound of you swallowing the lump in your throat wasn’t much of a good sign and right now he felt his legs tremble.

“I confess that it’s been nearly two months since these dreams came around and they’re only getting increasingly more graphic…” your hand reached for the cross of your rosary, your harsh movements hurting you in the process of taking it off.

“And just last night’s alone was worse than the previous one. In this one I— you—“ you bit your tongue, it was shameful enough to have the previous dreams let alone confess one of them again.

But it didn’t matter to him, if you wanted peace then he’d try his best to give it to you. “Go ahead, I’m not as concerned compared to the last ones.” Mark’s hand clutched his thigh. He was telling the truth but your hesitance still left him at edge.

Once the rosary sat on your lap, your grip on it was tighter as you recollected the actions of said dream. “It’s started the same way as the last dreams, though the setting was different. Instead of my chambers it seemed to be within the confessional hall.”

That alone had made him sit up straight, the leather of the cushion squeaking softly. “Your embrace was soft even with your fingers threaded through my hair, holding me in place as I served you.”

Shutting his eyes at the mention of him in your dream, it hadn’t gone past much but he was beginning to feel something.

“Kneeled right in front of you as your alb was held by your free hand, your taste sitting on my tongue while you praised me… I can still taste it as delirious as it may sound.”

You shouldn’t be enjoying it but as you closed your eyes to imagine it, a smile crept up on your face. “That warm saltiness against my tongue as it easily glided down my throat, a delicacy, Father…”

He could feel himself shiver despite the warmth in the room and the fiery feeling brewing in him. It was only the beginning but here he was.

“The fingers that blessed me earlier you had pushed through my lips, allowing me to cover them before you pulled me up and graced my nether parts. Oh, the memory alone feels grandiose. It might be just a dream but it was a pleasure never felt before.”

Moaning out after remembering such, your eyes shut tighter as your thighs did, the chemise not allowing for much friction to form.

Mark cleared his throat trying to snap you out of it, turning to see you hadn’t looked his way he feared you were going a bit further into it.

“Your soft pads circled around a certain area, your simple touch made my knees weaken but oh how I enjoyed your touch.” You bit your lower lip, the effects of arousal now in action.

Sighing softly to yourself, you continued. “When you saw the beads of sweat roll down my hardened nubs, your fingers intruded within me— Father you penetrated me with your fingers this time but they felt so… so pleasurable.”

Mark didn’t have anything to say, he felt his head spin at the news that this time he had gone further than previous dreams and even if it was with just his fingers, he felt conflicted.

It didn’t help that your hands were hurrying themself within your skirt, pushing between your legs to relive some of that need.

“Even as I closed my legs and your fingers remained in, you curled then once in a while, moving them in and out as if I was to lay with you. Reaching deeper areas that not even the Duke could ever dream of touching.” The mere mention of your husband was throwing him off again, some sense of morality kicking in. For goodness sake you were still married.

“Your fingers alone made me release, Father. Your long slender fingers that once my fluids drenched them and your palm, you allowed me to lick it off of you after you had your own taste. I can’t really say what you thought but the noises you made set me off.”

No matter now, knowing he could finish you off was giving him an ego. Conflicted and guilty but he still had an ego like any man.

“Perhaps this is where you should brace yourself Father, I do—“

“After everything you’ve said already?” He meekly cut you off, his voice gone for the minutes of silence, cleaning his throat to fix it.

He shifted once again, turning to where he wasn’t facing you but rather mirroring your sitting position and facing the door of the booth.

You hesitated to continue but seeing as you needed to get it over with, you sighed softly.

“Whatever unconscious evil has plagued me; you had me bent over the pew, your stole wrapped tightly around my wrists from behind. The fabric burning welts onto them.”

Mark shut his eyes tightly, the mentions of his scared vestment and holiness being used to defile you was crashing with his morality.

If anything he was beginning to feel anger. He could pass off hearing you talk about ruining you, taking you, and kissing all over you but he was beginning to draw the line with desecration.

He feared hearing more as much as his cock betrayed his soul, he still wanted to hold onto that thread of righteousness.

“Right behind me as your hand pushed my head further down, almost enough to taste the varnish of the wood but you were feeling too good that I didn’t have it in me to wake up or to tell you anything.”

“Duchess, please…” he softly begged, feeling himself harden slowly. You didn’t know how to take it. Was he pleading for more or was he pleading you to stop?

His face and voice betrayed his words, his lips were slightly parted and his eyes screwed shut from the pain of his growing erection.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine.’ You whispered in my ear to recite them more. You pushed yourself within my walls, grunting whenever I tightened around you.”

The rosary in your hands was molding onto your skin, imprinting the bead work of the cross and leaving a painful yet beautiful sight the more you recalled.

“The louder I got the more you prayed onto my ear hoping that’ll shut me up—“ the mention of prayer in this immoral act was already boiling his blood.

Whether it be for the blasphemy or for the sheer fact that only made blood pump into his groin more and more.

Mark was hating the fact that it was turning him on. He hated that your words were getting to him and ruining the little pureness that resided in him.

“You fully in me, feeling you deep in my stomach. Pounding harshly but your softest strokes were the ones to send me into ecstasy.”

You giggled at the memory of how he felt in you, warm and soft nestled within you. Both of you feeling nothing but pleasure.

“I remember your fond laugh as you poured water on me, only droplets of holy water. They were cold but the warmth of your tongue against my flesh collecting them one by one with kisses…”

Mark couldn’t contain his anger anymore, he felt that pain in his chest and groin. The one laughing at him for finding pleasure in all this and the one condemning him to hell for allowing anyone to speak this grossly about God’s possessions.

He was at his limit, if he heard any more blasphemy out of your tempting lips, he’d probably lose all composure and fall into sin.

“Your words were harsh like earlier when you told me to wait last but these stung more. Not in a way to hurt me but because they were true. Calling me your personal harlot and how easily I succumbed to your person.”

It was the faintest of moans that escaped your pretty mouth, the sound exciting him more. “And the moment you put your entire weight on me, leaning forward, it was that I felt your warmth spill in—“

He didn’t let you finish, his emotions taking the most out of him and rushing out of his booth. The sound didn’t spark anything in you until he tore open the door of your own booth.

You would never forget the crazed look in his eyes, his actions were fast but his eyes still bore holes into you.

One moment you were sitting down on the cushion and next thing you knew was that he had pulled you out brusquely dragging you down to the wooden floor, not even caring about the steps you had to get on down.

Your knees ached and for once you actually had fear in your eyes. Had you gone too far? Well, yes you knew you did go too far but it’s not like you wanted to. Right?

You couldn’t process what he was yelling, the knot in your throat was holding off your respiration and you were too scared to anger him further.

Mark was infuriated, the red flames of hell showcasing in the way he glared at you as he spewed insult after insult.

His words didn’t hurt, you had just told him how they made you feel. No amount of scolding could change how you felt about it.

If anything it was the way he looked at you. The mixture of lust and disgust in his face, of the way his body gravitated towards you but held himself off when he noticed he was to touch you.

You didn’t feel the tears spill from your eyes nor how your lips trembled. All you felt was fright, the knot in your throat, and guilt of enjoying the harshness of his words thrown at you between your legs.

After all he’s saying, you still found anything to get aroused.

“I’ve let you pass these two months of your lechery and sinfulness but it’s gone too far.” Frustratedly he ran his fingers through his combed hair, the black locks springing back into its position.

“Adultery, you’re a married woman for Christ’s sake! Penetration after all? Duchess, please!” He crouched down to where you sat, your eyes never leaving his or his face.

“But blasphemy and desecration? Sacrilege?! You know that’s too deep in, I don’t even know what could rid you of sin at this point. There’s nothing left to save your soul.” He shook his head, eyes closing to avoid the feeling between his legs as he looked at your saddened expression.

That last bit had gotten to you, now realizing the pain within you as your own eyes shut softly and your weeping became audible.

Hands clutching the rosary against your lips trying to hold in any noise to avoid any more of his scolding.

Mark felt horrible. He never wanted to make you cry but this is religion you’re playing with. Heaven and hell and nothing past this point secured you a spot in heaven anymore.

Seeing you cry right now was breaking his heart in half. Seeing you as a partner aside, you were still that girl he became friends with in the last five months.

You still held a special place in his heart and hurting you was never in his books but he had an oath to put God first.

His hands unconsciously reached towards your face but as you looked up, he pulled them back. Standing from his position and straightening his back, Mark cleared his throat before looking down on you.

“If God won’t forgive me then all I need is your forgiveness.” Your sobs were loud, your hands clutching the rug now, creeping slowly to his feet.

Mark didn’t say anything, closing his eyes and shaking his head in conflict. “Father, please!” You cried louder, your hands finally clinging to his calf’s looking up at him apologetically.

“Your forgiveness is all that matters to me now. If only we could just go back to how we met. To see you daily with no feeling attached, Mark please just—“ you couldn’t continue, your sobs loud as you rested your head against his legs.

The contact was eating him alive. Feeling your warm body so close to him was already too much to take, now your face so close to his thighs alone was a lot.

“Duchess please address me with my title…” his voice softer to ease the tension but it only made it worse seeing as you weren’t getting the response you needed.

When he didn’t acknowledge your plea, you shook your head in desperation. The beads and cross of your rosary once again imprinting onto your hand.

It was all you could do now; without much thought, you brought that hand up to your chest. The noise of your knuckles hitting your sternum along your cries from the pain catching him off guard.

“Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa! [3]” you voice was clear as day besides the whining from the pain as the cross jabbed at your flesh, leaving a large irritated mark.

Mark looked in horror at the damage you were causing on yourself, some panic rising as he began to plead you to stop.

When he noticed you didn’t and your prayer was increasingly louder the more he called for you as your noble title, Mark was beginning to feel some type of desperation and defeat.

Was he such a horrible influence in your life that you were desecrating your temple? The one God himself created just for you to live in comfortably.

You were going to painful lengths just to gain his forgiveness. His. Not yourselves, not your husband’s, not God’s, but his. It was clear as day that Mark has become more important to you than God himself.

Though scared and saddened at the realization that you’ve fully fallen into the trap of the devil, he felt a tingle in his chest and groin knowing how much power you’ve granted him.

Calling your title to no avail and seeing more irritation at your flesh, Mark couldn’t help do anything but directly yell for you.

“Y/n, enough!” That was the deepest you heard his voice go. He wasn’t angry if anything he was desperate.

You did stop the assault on your chest and your crying, looking at him perplexed and with admiration seeing he had finally called you by your name.

Y/n… it sounded beautifully spoken by him.

Reflexively, Mark reached for your wrists with one hand. Holding them firmly and making sure you couldn’t move them around.

His other hand had traveled to your face, his fingers angrily squeezing your cheeks to have your attention.

“Stop. It.” He sneered silently through gritted teeth. All that was left of you was to look up at him due to his grip, chest heaving at the arousal from said position.

You swallowed, nodding softly at his command before hurrying your hands beneath his alb the minute he let your wrists free. Mark tensed up at the feeling of your warm hands against his calves, pushing him closer to you.

You began to beg again for his forgiveness even if it earned a frustrated grunt coming from him. Mark rolled his eyes before looking down at you again, glaring intently hoping it’ll shut you up again.

“What do you think about love, Father?” You questioned in hope he’d look deep into his heart and let his true emotions out.

Mark didn’t speak initially, it wasn’t until he could think of something that he did. “Love is patient, love is kind… it doesn’t envy, it doesn’t boast, it isn’t proud.”

His voice began to shake as he thought about continuing, now doing everything in his power to avoid your gaze and his grasp on your jaw to fall.

“It does not dishonor others, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” He swallows the lump in his throat.

If he knew what you were trying to get out of him; Mark was fully aware you were a married woman. A married noblewoman that should care for her titles and image.

One little mistake and your life was done with, after all the Vatican clergy and the royal court would not be pleased seeing you defame yours and their title.

“It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves. Love never fails…” he finally looked down at you.

When he saw how your eyes shimmered in desperation, he sighed softly, “Corinthians 13:4–“

“Stop acting stupid, Father!” Your voice broke him out of it, seeing you move around in frustration. “I’m talking about our love! What you and I have isn’t just these dreams, it’s more than that! What do you think about our love?” Your hands angrily pulled at the strings of your sleeves, undoing them and watching the cloth fall to the rug almost camouflaging.

Mark blinked in surprise, his soft sigh as he looked around. “There’s nothing of that…” he tried to deny at first, even avoided your gaze but your increasing pleas bringing him back.

“Father, please! Even before these dreams,” you began to bury your face into his alb, trying to gain contact and finding yourself resting against his thighs.

Father Lee tensed up at the proximity between your face and his groin, the contact alone making him spiral back to that earlier feeling.

“Duchess, stop that.”

“Before the confessions and the crying, the way we looked at each other those first months… please.”

You begged and begged, your hands inching upwards his legs hoping he’d confess himself.

All he mustered was to tell you to stop pleading but what he was really asking you to do was to stop touching him as the smallest of touch was pushing him to his limit and his erection was growing back.

You didn’t listen, your hands kept creeping further up and your face further in. When his stern pleading became whiny and almost like a cry— it had become too late and soon the realization as to why he needed you to let him be had dawn upon you both.

Your cheek was no longer rubbing against his thigh, instead it had been poked by his hardened erection that caused for you to stop your movements and sit there in subtle shock.

You didn’t say a word, if anything you allowed the tip of his cock to remain pressed against your wet flesh from all those tears you wept for him.

Your hands didn’t lessen their grip on his legs and your breathing became steady. The only thing that changed was the volume of how you communicated.

With no sound leaving your mouth and showing you had calmed down, Mark sighed in defeat throwing his head back knowing it was too late.

Letting his head hang low, Mark paid attention to you again. All he could see was the top of your head, the pearls of your net shimmering in the candle light as your hair did.

He could also see how your lips were still plump from all that biting to hold in any previous sound but at least he knew you were alright.

Having enough of it, his hand reached out for your face once again. His touch wasn’t harsh and angry this time, instead his index finger held your chin and thumb caressed your bottom lip.

Neither of you spoke for the moment he admired you and you admired him. Not until he let out a soft smile giving into temptation.

“I think God blesses us through this love…” your lips pursed, kissing the tips of his fingers in bliss. “We have to be careful. Earlier your initial dream became reality, this one eventually will too so it’s best if we recreate it now to aid you of all that sin and hope it finally leaves you.”

Mark crouched down to be eye level with you, his lips ghosting over your cheeks and soon your lips. You could feel his breath go into your own parted mouth, his hesitance to continue.

His eyes scanned your face, searching for one last regret and to let this all end before it continues but to no avail, Father Lee closed the gap between the both of you. His lips softly falling on yours and greeting you with the softest kiss you’ve ever received.

Your lips molded to a perfection, the moisture of your salty tears and the sweet taste of wine on your saliva mixing with his.

His tongue graced your bottom lip before entering your mouth, moving along with your own. Your hands removed from his legs travel to his face, holding him hoping this isn’t all just one of your dreams again.

As your hands held him, his reached for your over gown, undoing the lacing of the front and showing your golden bodice holding in place the red embroidered skirt.

Feeling his hands closer and closer to your skin, goosebumps formed. In mere minutes he had managed to remove the clothing your ladies took almost hours to put on you and in the process didn’t damage any of the fabric.

Your skirt, bodice, and over gown had been neatly tossed on top of your sleeves, Mark making sure neither of you stepped or fumbled over them.

You were left in nothing but your chemise, his breath shaking as he felt how only a layer of fabric was separating his hand from your God given temple.

As one hand went to hold your cheek and end the kiss, his other hand made way from your hip up to the curb of your waist and to the one of your breast.

Mark’s gaze lingered over your own, seeing your eyes sparkle in want the longer his hand rested there. When his thumb graced over your nipple, a satisfied smile placed itself on your lips, making him mirror it instantly.

He kissed you one last time before rising to his feet, his hands pulling at his alb, tucking the fabric onto the cincture, and furthering your speculation that he was indeed not wearing a sotuoe.

It caught you by surprise, you had never seen a man bare let alone the intimates part of their body but when it came to him, your mouth felt overflown with saliva and your throat dry.

When it came to the Duke you didn’t really get to see him. One for disgust secondly because you never got to see it general. If you didn’t want him near then you definitely didn’t want to see him bare.

Even on nights he felt like getting active, you’d either avoid it or make sure he’d drunken up and not remember a thing the next day just to avoid being with him.

Just as you were to reach for him and feel the weight of him on your palm, Mark swatted the hand away startling you at how quick he was going back to his initial feeling.

“Our love doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been tormenting and taunting me for months. That you’ve put my faith and yours on the line and we have now fallen to the sin of lust.”

His eyes were dark now, though still holding admiration for you. As you were to speak to apologize once again, Mark took a hold of your chemise and pulled it up, leaving you bare once and for all with nothing but a surprised gasp.

A cold breeze had hit you in that instance. With no ventilation you’d expect to be warm especially with all these candles but you weren’t.

Goosebumps arose the longer he stared at you. The smooth shine to your legs, your hardened nipples, and the glistening between your thighs, slowly staining the rug drip by drip.

It was almost like you had described your initial dream to be. In that instance he had taken off his stole and walked behind you, pulling you up to your knees while he roughly fastened the fabric around your wrists.

You winced softly when you moved them around and felt the burn begin to form. He looked at you a little concerned but ignored it when he noticed you were fixing it to where it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Pulling the kneeler from the wall and on top of the rug, Mark guided you to it, making you lean forward against the wood where your hands should be during prayer.

Once situated with your eyes on him, Father Lee pulled off his chasuble and unpinned his maniple tossing everything but the pin to the pile of your own vestment.

The pin had been settled on one of the burning candles, piercing it and letting the wax fall to it.

“The body of—“ his lips fell to your forehead before rising, getting closer to you and holding your jaw once again.

“Christ…” your tongue poked out as waiting for the Eucharist, eyes boring into his hazed one’s.

“Amen.”

With confirmation, Mark’s soft tip graced your tongue, the saltiness of precum coating your mouth the further he rubbed it in.

Mark had never felt this type of pleasure. He always knew it was immoral and had always been told to repress any carnal desires so he never thought it would feel this good.

But when your lips fully enclosed around his length and begged with moans around him for more, all Father Lee could manage was to let out groans of his own.

His eyes closed, lips parted while spewing the prettiest cries, and pushing his hips further to see what your limit would be.

You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around his waist, perhaps push him further by his thighs. Anything at all, as long as you could see that pleased look on his face for as long as this lasted.

Breathing through your nose, that slowly stopped the moment he had reached further down making you gag around him and your nose to bump into his pubic bone.

Mark didn’t look at you but that action alone made him grunt, hips bucking forward and releasing yet another moan.

His hips pulled back, his entire cock slipping out of your mouth with strings of saliva connecting you and leaving you gasping for air.

Father Lee left you little time to relax before he had bucked his hips forward and one of his hands took a hold of your netted hair, fingers going through the holes and bumping against the pearls.

You moaned at the stinging sensation, his tight grip raking even your scalp. With every thrust against your throat, tightening around him, Mark gripped your hair harder.

His movements harsh but not insanely painful, bubbles of spit seeping from the corner of your mouth whenever he thrusted in and his moans cascading like the prettiest hymns to be heard.

The only sound left in the room was the one of the squelching of your throat with every thrust, fucking your throat like it was the last thing he’d get to do.

Despite how roughly he abused your throat, Mark would sometimes touch his heart and let you have space for air. He mainly liked seeing you gasp for it and squirm around with his precum and your spit between you both, some eventually falling to your chest or his thighs.

He mainly adored how when you were good, you’d look up at him with your sparkling orbs and smile at him, leaning towards the wood and parting your lips for him.

When you’d do so, he’d enter your mouth again, not entirely and continued his thrusts. He’d range from those harsh ones that’d hurt and soft ones to where his tip would caress the inside of your cheek.

The moment he went further in, he would release moans and curses, holding tightly to your hair again, your net already half way down.

“Fuck, y/n… you’re so good to me. Your throat was made for me and only me.” He’d state, watching how you’d take him fully, feeling your wet lips surrounding him to the base.

He wasn’t going to last long, after all this was his first time acting on any lustful acts so with a few more thrusts and your moaning around him, he felt himself close.

Trying to gain a firm position for his release, one of his hands shifted to your throat but upon feeling the bulge of his cock lodged deep in there, Mark turned to look down at you.

His surprised eyes turning fully dark and a sly smirk pasting itself on his lips. His gaze never left yours, squeezing your throat with him still in you, you moaned around him.

Your thighs moving against each other for that friction you were chasing. With that simple action a spark rang in between your legs and a gushing feeling ran down your inner thigh.

Mark saw the way you tried pleasing yourself and that only made his arousal grow, his thrusts were sloppy and fast. His hold on your throat tightening the closer he felt himself.

With every one of your occasional moans around him once he’d softened his grip, Mark tightened it again followed by his hips bucking forward and his volume going from whispers to strangled incoherent curses.

“Be good for me and take it all…” He’d struggle to let out, eyelids screwed shut and his knees threatening to give out on him.

His ass clenched and with a final thrust making you slightly gag around him, Father Lee came inside your mouth, feeling some spurts directly sliding down your throat and others threatening to spill from your lips.

When he felt it had all left him, Mark pulled out with harsh and deep grunts followed by: “The blood of Christ.” Swallowing before you could spit it out, Mark took a hold of your face watching you gasp for air and your eyes struggling to blink.

He caressed your face, cooing and letting you know it was fine now. His lips falling to your cheeks to calm you down and even your back. Once calmed down, you kissed him letting him get a taste of himself on your lips.

“Amen.”

Smiling fondly at you, Mark kissed you this time, helping you get settled on the kneeler again despite your knees already sinking down to the wood and the cotton of the cushion surrounding the unoccupied areas.

Parting from your lips, Father Lee walked behind you. His hands reaching for the rosary you had tossed to the pile of clothing once you stopped your assault on your self.

You remained confused on what he’d do next being that you couldn’t really turn to look without him pushing your head forwards so you could only see the confessional box.

Upon Father Lee finding the piece, your calmness died when you felt the strike of cold beads against your bottom.

Your yelp was loud, leaning forward in pain before he’d reach for your hair pulling your head up and making you turn to him.

“You’ll recite some prayers for purity while I give your lashings for every dream you’ve confessed about, got it?” He purred against your ear, his tongue caressing the shell of it.

You whined at the idea of pain but sacrifices have to be made to clean your soul, have his forgiveness, and his love… one way or another.

Nodding, Mark smiled sweetly even if you couldn’t see it. He kissed your neck one last time before his hand rose and the second strike hit your cheeks.

“Ah!… Mary, Mother most pure, and Joseph, chaste guardian of the Virgin, to you I entrust the purity of my soul and body.” Wincing, you could feel every detail of those red beads and their golden designs.

Mark bit his lip, counting in his head the first week. Those seven lashing were quite harsh despite them being the most tame out of all dreams.

You could feel your legs begin to shake and as he himself noticed, he eased up on the heaviness of his whipping.

“I beg you to plead with God for me that I may never for the remainder of my life soil my soul by any sin of impurity.” He laughed to himself about this given the situation you both found yourself in.

It was ironic yes, even you hesitated before speaking said words but if you didn’t continue who would guarantee you he wouldn’t stop all of this in a heartbeat?

‘8…9…10…’ he continued to count, all those details coming to mind but still not as intense so he made sure that when the bead work struck your ass, it wasn’t as painful as the previous seven.

He was only two weeks in and was already seeing how your bum began to show signs of markings. He felt apologetic but upon seeing how when the beads rested between your legs, you’d squirm around for friction.

At this point that initial pain became pleasure. You were feeling alive and with every strike, the curves of the beads bouncing against your plush skin was making you clench around air hoping for more.

Mark drowned out your prayer, admiring the way your arousal seeped from your cunt to stain your inner thighs. He bit his lower lip, allowing his middle finger to grace that wetness and bring it up to his lips, enjoying that taste before he continued his actions.

You had begun the second prayer by the time Mark had continued his lashings on you, startling you again before you grew accustomed to it.

“Lord, inflame our hearts and our inmost beings with the fire of Your Holy Spirit, that we may serve You with chaste bodies and pure minds. Through Christ our Lord, Amen.”

The words came out in a moan, back arching as he continued with the third week of your dreams transformed into strikes.

The third week of your confessions began to become raunchy. From you confession to him that he’d let you sit on his naked body and let him roam your own with his hands to his mouth around your breasts, suckling on them for his pleasure.

Just remembering how he spent the entire day flustered and in a state of mindlessness, Mark’s strike was much harsher this time.

Biting his lip angrily at the memory. Your yelp was louder than when he first begun and your thighs pressing against each other. This time he had made the first welt, painful enough to make you shut your eyes and feel that watery sensation pooling around.

“15.”

He remembers that Tuesday in which you’d come and told him about how you’d two spent it sitting at a park but he’d allow you to touch him.

Detailing how you’d grasp his hardened cock and pumped your hand up and down for his pleasure.

That Tuesday he had a meeting with the Deacon visiting him from the Vatican city to see how he was doing after his now four months there.

That entire time he couldn’t focus only thinking about you and your hypothetical touch.

“16…17…18…19.” He spoke out loud, with every increasingly raunchy dream, his force increased. Your cries were becoming louder but so were your moans and all he was left with was his own anger and conflict.

He wasn’t even halfway done but to ease your pain, they became less forceful again. At times giving you seconds or a minute to relax and finish reciting the prayer.

“My God, You have given me a body to keep pure and clean and healthy for Your service and my eternal happiness.”

Pushing your bottom half back, Mark smiled to himself shaking his head as he was to lift his hand. The beads striking the irritated flesh once again as he counted.

Moaning out your words: “Forgive me for all my unfaithfulness in this great responsibility. Forgive me for every mean use which I have made of Your gifts in thought, word or deed since my rebirth…”

Your teeth bit onto your lower lip enjoying the lashings more and more as he went despite your tears saying otherwise. Finally he had gotten one month through as you prayed.

“…Create in me a clean heart… Teach me to respect my body and the bodies of my fellow creatures. Help me to see the glory of perfect manhood In Jesus Christ and of perfect womanhood in Mary Immaculate… May my body be the servant of my soul, and may both body and soul be Your servants. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen. 31…32…33–“ Mark repeated after you as he continued his counting. The welts on your plush skin now visible and irritated making him feel some sort of remorse.

As he let the beads hit your ass again and hearing your cries get louder along your prayer followed by you once against chasing some friction, Father Lee came closer to you.

Not stopping his actions he counted to thirty-six until he spoke again, letting you continue your prayer as he spoke. “I’ll stop with five more and let you feel good if you’ll be a good girl and get through one more prayer without whining, okay?”

His proposition was easier said than done but you wanted some pleasure of your own rather than trying to chase it by rubbing your thighs together just to ultimately get nothing but sticky inner thighs.

You nodded feverishly, getting over with the prayer you had in tongues already and waiting until he gave you permission to begin.

Kissing your cheek softly, Mark patted your shoulder whispering “Go on,” to commence your prayer.

Relaxing a bit at the situation given it was just five more and you had experienced thirty-six already, you braced yourself allowing your voice to go back to normal and sniffling away any signs of your past tears.

God how stupid were you to give him the benefit of doubt that he’d be kinder.

Upon his first strike hitting you, you felt the beads painfully enough as if they had penetrated your skin barrier and bounced back before you could notice.

It was so much more painful that the rest but with the deal you had going on, you simply bit your lower lip again.

Eyes screwed shut, you continued the prayer as slow as you could trying to regain back some of the breath he had knocked out of you.

Father Lee found it amusing. He knew you wanted to complain to whine and cry about how harsh he was being but you didn’t dare. Simply enough to make him smirk your way with an amused silent breathy chuckle.

“—and that without You a creature can do nothing. Therefore, I pray You to defend, with your grace, chastity and purity in my soul as well as in my body.”

The second lashing came to you, just as strong and painful as the last enough to send you forward from the pain and clenching tightly but that only made the pain worse.

Your last words had been said through gritted teeth, feeling your breathing become heavier as you tried to regain any composure.

Though it didn’t take long for him to strike you again this time softer compared to the last two or previous ten, showing you some median mercy and allowing you to breath at least normally for now.

Panting through the pain and your hands twisting behind your back hoping to sooth the irritated skin, Mark took it upon himself to get close to you and rub your back for comfort.

“You’re doing so good… just two more, y/n and I’ll let you rest. Will you be a good lady?” He purred against you ear, his sweet words enough to make you forget how abused your ass and throat had become at his hands but it didn’t matter as you’d do it all over again as long as you could be near him.

It’s not like any of this was unenjoyable. If you truly hated any of it you would’ve told him to stop ages ago but the acceleration of pain coursing through your body has aroused you more than the dreams you’ve had of him, this being better than anything.

Just remembering again the sparks of torment made you clench and lurch forward sticking your ass out for him again, giving him a clear view of your glistening cascade, turning him on more than your previous moans and crying.

His last two were softer than the rest, watching intently the welting and bruising he’s caused upon your rear.

Mark could hear you whimpering, leaning forward to let your pained tears spill onto the wood or rug as you spoke the last of the prayer.

“And if I have ever received through my senses any impression that could stain my chastity and purity, may You, Who are the Supreme Lord of all my powers, take it from me, that I may with an immaculate heart advance in Your love and service, offering myself chaste all the days of my life on the most pure altar of Your Divinity. Amen.”

Sniffling as a way to calm yourself, you raised your head immediately met with the saddened eyes of the crucifix etched onto the hold decor of the confession box.

Whether it was for ruining your temple and virtue or because he was a witness to a good and righteous priest submitting to the immorality of lust and ignore his calling.

Nevertheless it didn’t matter as the moment you sighed to yourself trying to stop the crying, Mark stood before you with a pleased smile on his face.

He didn’t say anything for the time being, he watch your puffed out eyes and lips. How you tried to steady your breathing and your chest heaved trying to seem composed in front of him.

But that saddened look on your face only made him stifle a moan that threatened to leave. He liked seeing the rivers of tears on your face. He liked seeing you in such sorrow over him, he liked seeing your pain but also the arousal from his lashings with your rosary.

The once symbol of holiness tainted with your sweat, blood, and now tears and he rubbed it against your cheeks to collect said item.

He brought it to his lips one last time, kissing it and putting it over his own neck before walking back to untie your aching wrists from the stole.

“My sweet lady, you did really good.” He cooed against your ear, his hand coming in contact with your aching ass causing for you to jolt in pain and a whimper to escape your lips.

He shushes you to try and help you relax, his lips finding your neck and kissing it hoping it’ll also help. Though his hand was warm and initially had made the stinging worse, his soft caresses against the flesh had begun to sooth you.

His kissing against your neck aid that calmness while his remaining hand roamed against your body, finding solace between your aching legs.

Moaning at the feeling of his fingers against your cunt, you bit your lower lip opening your legs further more.

His fingers at first rubbed against your clit, soft and slow circles making your stomach churn for the well needed attention.

As his lips traveled to your jaw and landed on your own, Father Lee licked upon your lower lip, opening your lips to let his tongue dance with your own.

He could still taste the wine and him on your tongue, the memory of both of those things alone making him deepen his kiss and his fingers to pick up the pace.

Squirming at the pressure he was applying, Mark smirked into the kiss taking in all of your moans in his mouth.

He took that opportunity to accelerate his pace, his fingers alone causing you that pleasure of when you did it yourself feeling the coil of your lower stomach tighten further more.

As your moans spilled onto his mouth and he playfully bit your lower lip pulling it back to make you look at him, a smirk placed on his lips.

With your eyes fixated on his and feeling the pleasurable sting of his warm hand on your ass again, Mark swiftly inserted his fingers into you, two to begin.

Due to the wetness he’d caused, he didn’t struggle nor did it prickle but he did become slightly concerned when a small amount of blood coated said fingers once he pulled them out.

His eyes grew in shock despite trying to show his cool demeanor until you looked at him and giggled softly. “My virtue is yours and yours alone.”

Kissing him softly, Mark relaxed his tense nerves before looking back down. “But— have you not been with the Duke for nearly two years?”

Considering the rules of the court when it came to marriage and consummation he’d think they would’ve caught up already especially as you haven’t even given him a child for so long.

Finally bringing a hand up to his face and caressing his features, “When your husband is a drunk it’s easy to trick an entire government and him alone. If anything I pricked my finger and let the blood spill on the sheets to make it believable.”

He could only shake his head in disbelief of your wits, kissing you before inserting his fingers once again and recalling how he did it in your dream.

“The smartest and sweetest lady of them all.” He whispered against your lips, his fingers curling within you as he placed them fully in you.

Gasping at the sensation of him moving them within you, you grasped his arm squirming a bit as his thumb was rubbing your clit now.

His pace was slow at first, his pads feeling the warmth and softness of your walls around him. It made it better that his actions were making pretty noises cascade out of your pretty lips that he’d kiss as gratitude.

Father Lee’s eyes occasionally left your face after admiring your expression and how your features contorted to show how good you felt.

When they did move from your face they’d instantly travel to your glistening cunt that as of now suctioned his fingers, the sight before him aiding his arousal.

Just seeing how your cunt hungrily took them in effortlessly and he was praised with your moans.

His soft almost silent praises egging you further to release those melody’s. His fingers went deeper in as he thrusted them, enough to make his palm start to rub against your clit in lieu of his thumb.

Your hole clenched around him when you felt his fingers deeper in. How he thrusted them while his palm was firmly against your hot cunt, how he’d to separate them once inside you and begin to scissor them, causing for a yelp of arousal to leave your lips.

He received it with a cocky smirk, seeing how you began to bite your hand in need of a release. The both of you felt your juices flow down his hand almost to his wrists and with that he increased his pace.

His fingers were rapidly pumping within you, his palm almost slapping your lips and clit enough to make your masochistic desires push you further more.

It also didn’t help that his other hand held you firmly by your aching ass and the stinging of the whipping causing you to feel exhilaration.

“Mark please… I’m so close.” You cried against his lips, leaning against the kneeler. Not only were you close to your release but also your knees were giving out from how long you had been on there.

Cooing you that everything would be alright, his fingered quickened their pace again. You could feel everything.

How your warm aching walls molded around the ridges and curves of his slim fingers. How the deeper he went he’d hit your g-spot and caused more arousal to flow out of you.

How when he pulled his fingers out, that same arousal gushed out of you and settled on either your thighs or the leather of the cushion on the kneeler, staining it.

Mark liked to hear the squelching between your thighs. He also liked hearing your soft moans and whimpers along seeing the sweat that was beginning to form all over your body.

Your hair was disheveled and strands would stick to the perspiration on your forehead and neck. The pearls of your net had long fallen to the ground and revealed your soft locks for him to tug on more in the future.

He liked seeing your state right now, utterly and irrevocably fucked solely because of him. Just the way his fingers easily glided within you was good enough to make beads of cum threaten to leak from his tip.

Sweat had built up on him as well, making your grip on his tighten furthermore and as he spoke, dirty words didn’t fail to leave his mouth.

“You’re leaking all over my hand, such a dirty harlot. My harlot though, only mine.” He darkly chuckled against your ear, his tongue caressing your jaw.

With his words getting dirtier and the force of his palm against tight aching cunt, you squirmed around, your legs shaking as you felt your release wash through you.

Your cries wouldn’t stop and you could still feel your arousal flow through your body, abdomen tightening from how good you’re feeling as he didn’t stop his movements.

“Fuck, see how pretty your cunt looks and look how ruined you’ve left my hand and the cushion.” It came out as a breathy moan, his lips attacking your neck once again as he continued to finger you until he didn’t feel the rush of liquid down his wrist knowing he had made you cum.

Panting from how good he had just made you feel, you swallowed the collected saliva on your throat before using one of your hands to grab his hair and pull him towards your face.

Mark whimpered at the feeling of you tugging at his locks. He felt excited and hoped that’s how you felt every time he pulled at your hair.

With your remaining hand, you took the one between your legs, pulling it up to his face and mimicking his earlier words.

“The blood christ.” A smile on your face as his tongue swiped from his wrist to his fingers, savoring your taste.

“Amen.” He replied, tapping his two fingers on your lips waiting for you to part them. Once you had done so, they invaded your mouth, feeling your warm tongue wrap around one then the other.

Collecting every drop that remained and he hadn’t gathered. Mark looked at you pleased, smiling your way even when you used your tongue to push them out of your mouth.

As you’d both calm down momentarily, he walked behind you helping you up from the kneeler knowing your knees were tired and numb.

Hearing the cracking of your limbs, Mark ran his hand over them soothing away any pain you were feeling before placing you on the opposite side of the kneeler.

This time he had bent you over the prayer bar, feeling the wood poke at your stomach. His hand rubbed over your back and ass trying his best to sooth those marks he’d cause on you.

“We’ve done enough but I need to know if you’re truly willing to give your all to me…” he had leaned over your body, his breath against your skin as he spoke a sort of pain evident in his voice.

When your hand reached for one of his that held your shoulder now, with a squeeze you did your best to turn your head and look at him. “I’ll give myself to you as you’ll give yourself to me. If God didn’t want this to happen, then years ago my purity would’ve dissipated but it’s entirely yours.”

Kissing his knuckles, Mark gave you a sideways smile, leaning even more to as well kiss your own.

Taking a hold of your hips, he took his hardened erection and rubbed his tip against your puffed out lips.

The feeling of arousal that he felt, you yourself could feel. Your legs began to shake at the feeling of his slow intrusion.

Stifling your moans as a hand traveled to your lips; Mark took his time teasing the idea of burying himself in you.

Turning one last time from your body to the crucifix on the box, Mark sighed, eyelids fluttering before he spoke.

“Almighty God, aid me in becoming righteous, pure, and holy… fuck!” His prayer begun and as the moment went on, he finally pushed through your folds.

Your hold on the kneeler tightening and your moans to come out strangled from the intrusion. Despite his fingers working you up, it wasn’t enough for the stretch of his cock.

Your nails raked the wood, leaving lighter scratches than the varnish. Father Lee himself wasn’t prepared for the ecstasy your warmth would bring upon him.

Your walls tightly caressing him and your cum from earlier allowing him to slip in easily even if the stinging increased but like earlier it brought a tingle of arousal to your lower stomach.

Father Lee opted to get fully in you before starting any movement, testing your levels of tolerance but seeing as you begged him for more, he held onto where the wood of the kneeler made your stomach ache, working as a shield for your skin.

He didn’t mention how good you felt around him. How your walls hugging his cock made him twitch and pushed him to cum on the spot. All he did was continue his prayer while he regained composure.

“Help me not be consumed by thoughts of lust… let my mind focus on praising— praising and worshiping you… and you alone...” Despite his begging towards the Lord, the words naturally fell towards your ears, his intent only focusing on you.

With so, he pulled back and began to thrust. His hips fell harshly against your ass, making your bottom burn but the pain mixed into the pleasure of his thrusts.

Mark held tightly onto you, his hips moving relentlessly against your own and your moans only increased his passion.

His words were muffled against your shoulder and if he could they would still come out butchered. “I bind and curse out every evil entity that prevents me from building a closer relationship between us.”

Despite how targeted the prayer was and how much he intended for it to be for the Lord, all the parallels it had between you made it harder for him.

Deep down he still wanted the forgiveness of God but he also loved this feeling you granted him and didn’t want it to ever go, not when he was aware of your adoration for him and his for you.

Anger was all he could feel now besides arousal. His thrusts became faster, the feeling of you clenching around him sending him furthermore to the love of sin.

Your moans sounded so pretty with every thrust, the feeling of his cock pushing further into you and bringing pleasure to both.

With every thrust you felt the tingle of pleasure in your lower stomach and between your legs, enough to make you squirm in aid to feel it even more.

Your gaze was blurry as he kept pounding from behind you, his words not helping how good you felt and his thigh abusing your ass even more allowing for that sting you adored to bore more and more.

“Father Lee—“ you moaned out, your cunt sucking him in more just to feel every single inch of his, his tip granting you with harsh pleasurable kisses. Mark ignored you trying to complete his prayer,

“Lust,” He held you tighter against his chest now. His fingers digging onto your skin and though he didn’t intend to make it painful, he only noticed how that ache made you throw your head back with a smile on your face.

“Adultery,” the word meant nothing to either of you. Your husband was worthless and a pawn to both the Royal court and Vatical city. Even now with two months of residing in England to try and convince King Henry to not renounce the Catholic Church, with his letters it only seemed as he was failing miserably.

In fact as he thrusted into you after said word, your grip tightened on the wood, pushing your hips and arching your back against him.

Your words clouded his mind and panting was all he could muster. “I’m yours and yours alone.” You repeated, his thrusts quickening and causing your legs to shake.

“Fornication,” you brought one of his hands to your breast, his grip on it instantly tightening as he kneaded it.

His fingers twisting your hardened nipples that caused your eyelids to flutter. You took that opportunity to throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder and allowing him to leave tender kissed against your lips.

“Lasciviousness, and sexual immorality.” All his mind wandered to was your dreams. How they started innocent enough and led to where you both were now.

With him balls deep inside you, defiling each other and ignoring the word of Christ. Mark felt elated he was feeling great even if guilt tried to sneak itself onto him at the moment but with every whine spilling from your lips and every clench around him— he surely ignore it all.

Mark had made the mistake of looking at your face as he finished prayer. His eyes scanned every feature of your face again and when he noticed how blissful you looked, he felt small spurts of precum shoot from him.

It was subtle but the memory of your eyes shut and your joyful smile as he fucked into you with silent gasps leaving your lips sent him into a frenzy.

The arm around your stomach shifted his hand placing itself on your abdomen as he picked up his pace.

The sound of skin slapping skin was getting louder as were his grunts, the rapture of his cock hitting every right spot within you making even the squelching to raise in volume.

“Shit… you feel so good, made just for me…” he’d claim, his tip kissing your cervix and with his hand on your abdomen, he got even more turned on seeing as he created a bulge in your stomach.

You whined feeling your legs shake, head hanging low and seeing what he held onto. At the view of your stomach engulfing with each of his thrust, you cried out in pleasure.

You could feel yourself slowly spill around him as he kept thrusting, your eyes fixated on the action alone and adoring how it looked.

“Father Lee… I can’t hold up much longer…” you’d cry, biting your tongue to hold off any more words from spilling from your mouth.

He knew he himself couldn’t either so in a spur of the moment he held onto you and walked you to the rug, laying you softly as he kneeled before you.

His chest heaved as you propped yourself up on your elbows watching him untie his cincture and pull at his alb and amice, throwing them unconsciously to the pile of fabric at your head.

Your eyes raked his figure, admiring his proportions and the view of his nude body making you clench around air as you closed your legs due to arousal.

His shoulder wider than his waist, your hands reaching for his chest and caressing it before it turned to subtle scratches that left red marks on his skin.

Father Lee winced at the action but upon seeing the playful smirk on your face while holding down on your bottom lip with your teeth, he knew you enjoyed that.

His hands took your thighs allowing your legs to part and be placed on opposite sides of his hips. You were fully exposed before him and without shame, your hand caressed your sweat ridden body.

The glowing look from said sweat making you look beautiful in the candle light, your sensuality drawing him in, and the sultry look in your eyes making his cock twitch against your cunt.

You gave him a toothy smile before sitting up and reaching for one of the candles on a counter, holding the flame not too far from your own flesh.

Mark was a little confused and concern grew when he noticed your lack of caution. “Your punishments have been working well, Father. Another one wouldn’t hurt.”

Your words alone were making him feel so close; seeing how you tipped the candle and allowed the wax to tease its falling.

When it finally touched your skin and your silent whimper turned into a moan along your pained expression that morphed into a pleased smile, Mark chuckled lowly.

Taking the paschal candle from your hands, he leaned in to kiss you before complying to your demands.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re enjoying the pain rather than repenting, Duchess.” You only shrugged, taken by surprise as he allowed a couple of wax beads fall onto your breasts.

You moaned at the action, his hand smoothing the warm wax against your skin to sooth any burning. “Offerings have to be made to ask for forgiveness and favors and this is my sacrifice, Father.”

Mark watched the red wax mix with the white one, both marbling once it fell on your flesh. The droplets forming a cross on your abdomen as he went on.

In the process of soothing your flesh again, Father Lee took his hardened cock onto one of his hands and guided himself between your legs.

Leaning over you, Mark grunted feeling you already clench around him. With every inch he pushed into you only reminded you both that you were so close to an orgasm.

His thrusts were slow, trying his best to fit all of himself in you again. Lips parted and panting from the pleasure you granted him.

Caressing his face as he kept pushing in, you pulled his face closer to yours, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine. [4]”

Mark moaned against your lips upon hearing you reciting, hips lips connecting with yours as his thrusts began to pick up a rhythm.

He kissed you feverishly with the love he repressed for you all these months, his pelvic bone grinding against your own enough to create some friction on your clit.

“Take me away with you—let us hurry! Let the king bring me into his chambers.” Mark smiled into the kiss, looking at you with admiration as he held tightly onto your hips in which he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

His grip on you only tightened the faster he went, the sound of his thighs slapping against the back of your own growing and the squelching of your wet cunt overpowering that of his groans.

As he looked into your eyes, Mark took it upon him to continue and speak not only from the Bible but from his heart. “I liken you, my darling, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariot horses. Your cheeks are beautiful with earrings,”

He caressed your cheeks, the pearls that pierced your lobes dangling as he thrusted into you. “—your neck with strings of jewels. We will make you earrings of gold, studded with silver.”

His lips fell upon your neck, littering it with kisses as you moaned every time his cock graced your cervix. Painful as it may be, to you it was still one of the best pleasures.

Feeling himself twitch in you, Mark rested his forehead against your chest, his breath warm against the moisture of you both.

Wrapping you arms around him as he continued his thrusting, “My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.” Whispering those words onto his hair, Mark groaned feeling you clench around him once he had hit the spot once again.

Your moans came out jumbled together almost as if they had been waiting to be let out a while ago, your words working as the barrier holding them back.

As he bucked his hips forward, his lower body stimulated you clit. Your legs spasmed around him, the feeling of a close orgasm consuming you fully.

Seeing your face contort from the pleasure he granted you, Father Lee took your lips onto his. Kissing you passionately as he tried to help you reach your orgasm.

“How beautiful you are! Oh, how beautiful…” it came out as a silent whimper, his face showing a pained expression knowing he couldn’t hold much more but he needed you to finish first.

You cursed under your breath, the coil in your stomach was giving out on you and his constant thrusts weren’t helping especially not when he kept stimulating you.

The rosary around his neck graced your flesh, the cross kissing your chest as he got closer to you. If he lifted himself up, the golf and jewels shimmered in the candle light but despite its beauty it wasn’t comparable to his.

Taking a hold of his face between your hands, you made sure he looked directly at you as he kept going.

Father Lee was growing exhausted as you were. His cock twitched every now and then threatening to spill his semen within your walls and coat them even if he couldn’t.

Your cries weren’t helping as when you held him, in between kisses you begged him to paint your walls white.

“Fill me up and make me fully yours. My womb is for you and you alone, Mark…” you’d cry, your tears of pleasure spilling from your eyes and causing for that arousal in him to spring again.

Mark angrily grunted at the image before him, your words fueling his anger and guilt knowing he could never soil you or at least not yet.

When your whimpers became curses as his hips didn’t stop their movement, Mark took it upon himself to at least taint your chest and leave an imprint of his love.

His lips suctioned between your breasts, biting softly at the flesh, and smiling onto it when he heard your moan from the simple action.

With your legs wrapping themselves around his lower half and feeling the pressure of his stimulation against your clit grow, your eyes fluttered and your teeth held onto your tongue.

Your head begun to spin and the heat in the room had increased from the last time you remembered a said chilliness. With one of his final thrusts, your abdomen cramped up and feeling too stimulated you came around him.

Your juiced flowed around him, coating his cock full of you and your scent. “Father Lee!—“ you cried out upon your release, your nails racking softly against his flesh even if he winced.

Knowing you had already came, Mark continued his sloppy thrusts. He was working for himself now given you had fallen limp against the rug and your head took purchase on the fabrics you both wore.

You felt dizzy as it is so when you saw his pretty face showing how close he was and fully aware of how he spilled some spurts into you; you swallowed trying your best to recover.

“Soil me, Father. I’ll forever be yours but please cum in me, please…” you pleaded through silent phrases, your vision barely stabilizing from how good he had made you feel.

But with your words begging him to taint you further more, Mark groaned against your neck feeling his cock heavy and tired. His final thrust slow and steady making you shake slightly.

Pulling out given he was at his limit, Mark moaned and groaned, heavy ropes of white spilling and staining your body.

Even when you remained slightly delirious, your fingers reached to where his cum had fallen to, taking some onto your digits and making sure his eyes were fixated on you.

As he panted ferociously in attempts to gain composure, Mark watched your every move. How how his semen coated your ring and middle finger, some of the liquid falling through the gaps.

When you lifted your fingers to your face, Mark flickered between your alluring eyes and your fingers pushing through your lips and causing your tongue to poke out, his cum dripping onto it and licking the residue from your digits.

Father Lee felt slightly ashamed at the fact that, that was enough to rile him up further. The deep grunt that rose from beneath his chest traveling to his throat.

Taking his semi hard cock onto his hand again, Mark intruded your hole, pushing deeper in without movement but to just feel your warmth around him again.

You didn’t complain, feeling him in you was one pleasure you would never get over and feeling full was a second.

His lips found yours, attacking them with frenzied kisses. Your lips moving against each other with some force and your grip on him tightening.

Your tongue poked out, licking his lower lip as he granted you access your his own mouth. He could still taste the wine from earlier and himself onto your mouth as you could taste yourself on his.

As the kiss became more intense and your hands began to roam around each other’s body, Mark took it upon himself to separate from you with much reluctancy.

“You better believe in God and pray the Duke is back by tomorrow if you want me to fill that womb with my child.” He spoke, soothing his aching limbs.

“Would thou want my first born to be yours?” You tease making him chuckle with a sly smirk on his lips before they placed themselves on yours. “You’re insufferable… Given by his age it seems like all your off springs will be mine.” He joked along, caressing your face.

Pulling out of you again, you groaned at the lack of contact reaching for him but only received with a shake of his head and a tender smile.

Reaching for a bowl full of water and a pitcher, Mark helped you up and onto a chair that sat in between the cabinets with his vestment.

You silently thanked him as he took a cloth onto his hands and dipped it into the water, you winced at the coldness against your skin.

Your complaints didn’t go unnoticed as he told you to be quiet and deal with it. “Would thou prefer to smell like sin while your husband is away or take a cold cleaning and smell like cleanliness?” There was a playful tone to his scolding so all you could do was pout in defeat and let him take care of you.

After a few passes the water became bearable. All you focused on were his delicate touches, the way he caressed your skin and made sure to not irritate any area damaged.

Even when he cleaned the dried cum between your legs and torso, he did his best to not graze your cunt and cause any pain. When it came to actually cleaning said area, he allowed you to do it, scared that he’d hurt you despite just pounding into you carelessly.

Finally when he had asked you to stand after noticing your wincing while sitting on the straw chair, he soothed the aching of your bum.

His hand rubbed against the flesh, the bumps from welting proof of what he could do. “Was it too much?” He questioned running the cloth over the marks in case there was a breach and he had made you bleed.

He could notice some bruises threatening to show but further from that it was all fine. “Not enough I’d say. You could’ve done more even with the wax.” Your tender smile comforting him.

Once clean, you offered to do the same but he refused as he felt time was ticking and after getting a new cloth and cleaning himself off.

You stood behind him, adoration laced in your gaze. “A sight got sore eyes?” He questioned playfully, his hand reaching for yours.

“You truly are the most wonderful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You confessed, arms wrapping around his bare waist.

“In nomine Patris et Filii,” His lips fell upon your forehead, chin, and cheeks.

“et Spiritus Sanсti…” Mark kissed you softly, his hands kneading the flesh of your back, holding you as tight as he could.

He sighed against your hair, not wanting to let go of you. “I absolve you of all sin and know I choose you. Through cleanliness and purity— I choose you.”

1. Adoremus in aeternum (hymn)

2. ‘In the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit’

3. ‘Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.’

4. Excerpt from the Song of Songs

if you liked the crime of father lee then you’ll like: for I have sinned!

join yojeongin’s taglist to be up to date with future work! link in masterlist <3

PLAYLIST. i. ‘tis the damn season - taylor swift, ii. come back…be here - taylor swift, iii. that’s when - taylor swift ft. keith urban, iv. the very first night - taylor swift, v. last kiss - taylor swift, vi. the last time - taylor swift ft. gary lightbody, vii. the 1 - taylor swift, viii. afterglow - taylor swift, ix. mr. perfectly fine - taylor swift, x. i wish you would - taylor swift.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15

part 16 part 17.1 part 17.2 part 17.3

part 18 part 19 part 20

“Probably not. He was nice and everything, but he didn’t seem my type.” Giselle groans. 

“Y/N! I thought Sicheng would be the perfect guy! He’s smart and funny and his parents are loaded,” she added subtly at the end. 

“Just because I looked at him for more than two seconds at your sister’s wedding doesn’t mean that I want to date him,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at your friend. “And besides,” you start again. “I’m trying to focus on my degree right now.”

Giselle is silent for a little bit, pursing her lips. “Other than dates here and there, I’ve never seen you in a serious relationship.” 

“What’s wrong with being single?” You ask, your shoulders lifted up. 

“Everything!” You snort at your friend, who is obviously more sarcastic than she sounds, but Giselle only comes closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Her eyes are rounder this time, serious. “Y/N, you know what you told me two Fridays ago?” 

“What?” You ask. You don’t remember. 

“You said that once you got off of work, you were going to organize all your albums. I’ve been to your place, and that’s a lot. I don’t want you wasting Friday nights by yourself. You deserve an awesome guy. I just want you to be happy.” 

“Thanks for your concern,” you tell your friend. “I’m happy with just working and going to college. It would also make me happy if you butt out of my love life,” you deadpan at the end, smiling. 

“Fine,” Giselle says reluctantly. You laugh at your friend’s pouting face before picking up a rag to scrub counters since there’s no one else standing in line for a drink. But when you hear footsteps approaching, you and Giselle look up. It’s a boy around college age, who places his drink on the front counter. “Excuse me? The lid of my coffee cup is broken. Can I get a new one,” he shows you both the lid on his cup, a large tear in the side that would impede it from doing its job. Giselle looks to the spot where the complementary lids for coffee cups are and notices that they aren't any more lids. 

“There are some more in the storage room. It might take a while, so I’ll bring it to your table,” Giselle responds. The boy nods, leaving. “I’ll be back,” she says to you, and you say a quick ‘alright’ before moving a few steps to the computer that registers orders and the card swiper. So far, you haven’t heard the little bell sound from the door of the coffee shop, so you’re pretty sure that no one is coming in. Taking a long look around at people busily on their phones and laptops most probably completing a last-minute assignment or others just here with their friends for a quick caffeine shot, you settle on your conclusion, tapping your fingers against the counter as you stare at the floor, humming quietly to yourself as you think about what you’re going to do after you get off of work today.

This is your second year working at this coffee shop. You decided to attend a local college only twenty minutes away from your home to stay close to family, and you’re living at home to limit the expensive dorm costs and accumulating debt that many of your friends complain about. After settling into college, you took a job at this coffee shop in the center of your town to get a head start at paying your minimal education costs and met Giselle, a community college graduate who’s earning money to get a four-year degree.  

Your tapping is interrupted when you hear someone; you didn’t even realize that the bell went off. 

“Excuse me?” you hear. That voice… it’s familiar, one that you haven’t heard in a long time, yet it’s one that you could pick out of anywhere. Looking up, you see someone you never thought you would see again. 

It’s Mark Lee, your high school ex-boyfriend. 

“M-Mark?” You sputter. You couldn’t believe it. But there he is, standing right in front of you in the flesh. You almost want to pinch yourself. 

Only marginal things have changed about Mark’s appearance since high school; his hair is slightly grown out and he has a light tan. Right now, he’s wearing a t-shirt and some sweatpants, his earbuds hanging on his neck as if he came back from the gym or a jog, the latter being the most likely case because when you were dating, it was a part of his routine to go on a jog every single day. 

“Y/N,” he says, smiling. “It’s good to see you.” 

“Y-You too,” you stammer. 

“I didn’t know you worked here now. How have you been?” Mark continues the conversation. Finding a pen on the counter, you’re glad you have something to fidget with. 

“Well, I do,” you chortle. “And I’m good, I guess. Just working and school,” you respond curtly. “You?”

“The same.” His response is nonchalant,  It’s pretty damn obvious how awkward it is. With neither of you saying anything for a little bit, you both let the light chatter of those at tables do the talking for you. 

“Would you like a drink?” You ask politely. 

Mark’s eyes widen, suddenly realizing why he’s here. “Oh, right,” he says bashfully. “One ice americano, please.” Ah, Mark’s favorite drink; back when you were dating, he liked to tease you by saying that it was 100% coffee compared to the sugary macchiatos or lattes you would order. With a small smile, you punch some keys on the computer by the register, you select Mark’s order on the screen. “That would be $3.49 with tax,” you say, looking up. 

His hair brushed back, he pulls out his wallet to get his credit card. Swiping it across the scanner, a satisfying ‘ding’ sounds, recognizing that his payment was accepted. “Thanks,” he says a bit quietly. He stands there awkwardly for a few more seconds as if he wanted to say something else, but he just nods, seating himself on one of the barstools next to the counter you worked at; it’s practically empty most likely due to many preferring to set up their laptops or talk on the phone or with friends without the baristas overhearing them. Or alternatively, they would stand by the serving counter, which they thought would help make their drink faster. 

Quietly, you move a few steps to the coffee machine, pushing your tongue against the side of your cheek, an old habit of yours that springs up when you’re nervous. Hoping that he doesn’t notice, you look from the cup in your hand to Mark, taking a glance at him as quickly as possible, but it seems like he’s trying the same. For a moment, both of you lock eyes, and it’s almost like you can’t pry your gaze away from him until you finally force yourself to, looking back to the coffee machine to fill some espresso shots on top of the ice and coffee. 

Sealing the cup with a lid, you put the drink in front of Mark. 

“Uh, here’s your drink, I guess,” you say a little more awkwardly than you intended to.

“Thanks,” Mark smiles. He continues to sit at his barstool, and with the lack of customers ordering right now, you decide to busy yourself out of your awkwardness, going to an obscure corner to get a broom, as far away from Mark as you can be. After taking a few sips, Mark’s gaze lands on you, and as you start sweeping, he begins talking. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says. He leaves his drink, which he took a few sips of, on the counter, heading down the hallway beside your counter to the men’s bathroom. 

Once Mark is out of sight, you hear another voice. “So I’m assuming you guys know each other,” Giselle says, leaning her weight onto one leg. She is standing a few feet away from you, coming out of a shadow. You almost drop your broom when you hear her.

“How long have you been standing there?” You ask, practically jumping out of your skin.

“Long enough to see some of the interaction between you two. From the way your movements were so stilted and how you stammered a lot, you definitely didn’t expect to see him, and by how uncomfortable you looked, he was probably someone you knew intimately…” Giselle trails off, her eyes widening, a gasp on her lips. “Is that an ex?” She looks excited. 

“How did you get that from a one-minute interaction?” 

“I’m a psych major, remember? Major deduction skills,” she says, pointing at her brain dramatically. You exhale loudly, almost snorting before she continues. “So answer my question. Is he an ex?”

“Yeah,” you say simply. Giselle’s look is curious, so you continue. “He was my high school boyfriend. We mutually broke up before college,” you say, your words meshed together stiltedly. 

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t be.”

Back in high school, you and Mark were almost inseparable, to the point that your high school friends would lightly joke that he was attached to your hip or something. You were always laughing together, at one of the corny jokes or when walking together after classes, going to the same diner and ordering the same thing, and even… skipping classes to be together (you would only skip when it was a concept you knew you didn’t need the teacher’s help on).

But then all that changed. 

Mark, when you were sitting together at lunch senior year, casually mentioned that he got into his dream college; it’s a posh school that has a prestigious music program, which would support his dreams of being a songwriter one day. He looked so conflicted when he broke the news to you because well… the school is on the other side of the country. You made it pretty clear that you wanted to stay close to home where it’s more affordable. In-state schools were on Mark’s list too since he wasn’t sure if he would get into his dream school, but after this discovery, he didn’t need those admissions.  

You would have been a horrible girlfriend if you told him not to go, and eventually after much thought and coaxing from you that you would be fine, Mark accepted the admission. You said that your relationship could work as a long-distance one. However, during the summer, you changed your mind. A long-distance relationship is too much work, and many of them fail anyway. You wanted your boyfriend to be by your side, to touch him, to hold him. You didn’t think you could handle being apart. Mark eventually said that he was feeling the same thing and added that this was for the best. 

By the way Giselle looks, it’s like there are wheels in her brain that are turning. 

“So are you over him?” She asks. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? It was a while ago.” You didn’t mean to sound as defensive as you did, and it looks like Giselle is surprised at your reply too.  

“Just asking,” she says, looking at her nails. “Was he your last boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anyth – oh,” you say, tilting your head up. Giselle nods. You’re pretty sure that you know what she’s thinking. 

“I can assure you that he’s not the reason I’m not dating. Remember that piece of paper I get after finishing college?” You joke at the end.  

Your question is more rhetorical, but Giselle has almost no time to respond when Mark comes back. Taking his drink, he looks like he is thinking hard about something.

“Uh Y/N,” Mark starts off shyly, his eyebrows knit with concentration; a blooming red blush emerges on his cheeks as he grips his drink. “A-are you on your break right now?” he musters out. 

“As of now, I’m not,” you say. 

“Oh, well…” he trails off, his facial expression still nervous, his eyes darting. “I was wondering if you wanted to sit with me. Like-like maybe at one of those tables?” He cocks his head to a free table at the corner of this little cafe. Looking from Giselle to Mark a few times, you notice your friend’s encouraging expression. 

“Uh, o-of course,” you stumble out. “Just give me a minute, I need to clock out for my lunch break. I’ll meet you at your table.” Mark nods acknowledging what you said. Watching Mark walk away, you inhale sharply. 

“Can you cover for me?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” she smiles. You look a little hesitant to leave from behind the counter to Mark, a boy you haven’t seen in two years, but Giselle practically shoos you away. “Go, reconnect, have fun!” Raising an eyebrow, she has a mischievous look on her face. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll be meeting him again as a boyfriend.” 

“I told you. Over him.” 

“Right,” Giselle says. She leans against the counter a little bit before talking again. “The thing with mutual exes is that you didn’t break up because you didn’t like each other anymore but because of circumstances. Maybe there are feelings still there.” Snorting, you finally leave the counter, telling your manager about your lunch break before making it to the table Mark is sitting at.

The cushy part of the seat deflates as you sit down. For a few moments, it’s silence with you fidgeting with the hem of your uniform and Mark observing the floor intently. You would have maybe expected to see him sometime around the breaks when everyone in your graduating class would be ditching their dorms and apartments to visit their family, but the closest break is a month away. You decide to address the elephant in the room. 

“So what brings you back home? Why would you want to leave a university a few minutes away from the beach to come back to our boring old city?” You joke. 

“Well, you know, homesickness,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I tried to forget about it because the music program is so good, but eventually my grades started falling. So I’m gonna transfer to a school here.” You nod at this. 

“Oh, what school?” You ask. 

“That’s the thing,” he chuckles softly. “I’m not sure.” 

“That’s very un-Mark of you, the same guy that makes to-do lists for everything.” Your brow is arched non-threateningly. Mark was always a stickler for to-do lists and agendas, which was against the typical “creative” nature expected from a boy who wants to pursue professional songwriting. 

He smiles at you. “I’m trying to take a break from college right now. A gap semester.” 

“That sounds good,” you say after a few moments, unsure of what else to say. When neither of you says anything, the awkwardness appears again. It seems like you two are having a competition about who can steal the most glimpses at the other without them noticing. 

“So what about you? How’s college for you?” Mark asks, sipping what’s left of his coffee. 

“Oh, you know.” You shrug your shoulders. “It’s just college. Classes, assignments, studying, exams.” 

“You still live at home?” He asks. 

“Yeah. I’m not living for the concept of paying the government for the next ten years of my life just to live in a dorm.” You snort. None of the scholarships (minus sports scholarships) you applied for were enough to pay for room and board. 

“Smart. My debt is probably through the roof right now.” 

“How are your parents doing?” You ask, changing the subject. While dating Mark, you had an affinity for Mrs. Lee, who was the number one supporter of your and Mark’s relationship and even described you as the perfect girl for her son. 

“Dad’s in Cancun, and I just had lunch with mom yesterday.” You nod. Mark’s parents are divorced, with the divorce in tenth grade being messy; there were those nights where Mark would sneak into your room because he couldn’t stand the fighting anymore, and you would fall asleep next to each other. Ah, the days when you and Mark were inseparable. 

“Cool. Where did you go?” You ask. 

“Some new Chinese place. It’s next to that Five and Below?” 

“Ah,” you say, nodding slightly, remembering that the restaurant opened only a few weeks ago. 

Suddenly, Mark’s eyes widen.

“Oh, how rude of me!” he exclaims. You look confused at the sudden rise in his voice before he continues again. “I didn’t even offer to get you anything!” Mark remarks, putting a hand to his forehead. You try to wave him off. 

“Don’t worry it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t really want anything right now,” you say, but Mark doesn’t look like he’s listening to you. He rises, moving back to the counter where Giselle is standing. You follow him, wading through the maze of tables, chairs, and customers as you continue to reassure him that you don’t need anything; you stop talking when you realize that he’s already whipped out his credit card, swiping it on the credit card scanner. 

“You still like caramel macchiatos right?” Giselle looks like she’s breathing in the entire situation as she waits for your answer. 

“Yeah.”

-

After the general pleasantries were exhausted and the awkwardness faded away between you and Mark, you had a good time together – a good enough time where you even lost track of time; one of the other baristas who clocked in later had to tell you that your thirty-minute lunch break was over. So when you stood up and told Mark that it was nice catching up with him, he told you to wait. He said that it would be nice to hang out at a place where you didn’t have to clock in and out. So you set another time to be at the Chinese restaurant he was talking about since it’s on your drive home from work, and despite being close to it, you’ve never been to it due to being busy all the time. 

You know that it would be a direct violation of the best friend code to not tell Giselle that you’re seeing Mark again, but right now, you wanted to keep this whole thing lowkey, and Giselle… she’s not lowkey. You bet if you told her, she would log on to Canva, and start making the wedding invitations. 

So now you’re in Mark’s car after he insisted on driving you home instead of letting you call an Uber, which you have been doing the past week since your car is in the shop after the “check engine” light appeared. After much back and forth and insisting that you’re fine, you finally give in. His car is a used jeep that he got on his sixteenth birthday, and it looks almost the same as the day he left for college. When you climbed into the car at first, you noticed a stain on the floor mat near the passenger seat where you spilled a soft drink and the driver’s side window being slightly unrolled, for it can’t completely close for some reason.

Sitting in the passenger seat, it’s like you’re transported to high school again, to all the times you and Mark would parade around in this car to get snow cones in the summer or go to the festive Christmas marts in the winter. 

Mark draws you back to the present. 

“Wow. Construction here is actually finished,” he says. You look out the window to see a large road, one of the bigger roads in your city. It started off as a small local road, but since a lot of the city grew around it, it became more used, and traffic was unbearable. So, somewhat counterintuitively, construction began on and off, slowly enlarging the road until construction finally finished once and for all a few months ago, the road being as large as it is allowed to be under state provisions. 

“Yeah,” you acknowledge. You look out the window, watching the glow of city buildings in the distance, and all is quiet between you and Mark until you suddenly, very loudly, sneeze.

“Bless you,” Mark says. 

“Do you have a tissue?”

“Yeah. I think there should be some in the passenger compartment.” You look where Mark told you, lifting open the top of the compartment in front of you. What you find are a few tissues in a package like Mark said, but then you see something else unexpected. 

“Dior’s ‘La Vie en Rose?’” You ask, taking the perfume bottle out of the compartment. You used to leave a bunch of random stuff in Mark’s car in the past, but you don’t ever recall having this perfume.

“Oh, that’s uh…” Mark trails off awkwardly. He doesn’t respond for a while, his gaze focused on the road. “My girlfriend’s. Well, ex-girlfriend.” 

“Oh,” you say flatly. You’re about to put it back where you found it until Mark takes a hand off the wheel, waving at you. 

“Don’t put it back. Just leave it in the cup holder so I can finally remember to throw it out.” He snickers. You do what he says. Afterward, you bring your hands to your lap, looking from Mark to your side of the dashboard. 

“How long has it been in there?” Your voice is quiet as you ask this. 

“Maybe a few months,” he says. You nod at this slowly, continuing to steal glances at Mark as he drives. Mark’s gaze slowly tilts from the road to you, and a smile begins to form on his face. “And you want to know more.” 

“I do not! I’m not nosy like that,” you say, crossing your arms indignantly. To say that you weren’t at all interested would be a lie, though. Mark sees through this and laughs. 

“Come on, Y/N, we all want to know about our exes’ relationships to see if they’re doing better than us.” You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to remain casual, but the embarrassment heating your cheeks tells another story. “It’s alright Y/N. I wanted to know about your exes too.”

You smile at Mark, at how he always tries to make you feel better. “So where did you meet your ex-girlfriend?” 

“I knew her through a couple of friends. We hit it off and started dating. We only dated for a few months.” 

“Oh,” you say, simply. For a period of time, Mark had moved on. So why are you slightly disappointed?

Neither you nor Mark says anything for a while before he continues. “During most of the relationship, I wasn’t that happy. And after that girl, I didn’t date much.” 

You nod at this. “What about you?” Mark asks. “Anyone notable?” Mark, as well, is trying to remain casual as he drives. 

“I don’t have an official ex. I mean, I’ve been on dates by myself and even ones that my friends have set me up on, but I don’t know,” you shrug your shoulders. “I guess college is stressful and it’s too much work for a relationship. I’m trying to focus on studies.” It’s Mark’s turn to nod as he drives. He turns into your neighborhood as if on reflex, still remembering exactly where you lived. But a few houses down is the house. 

The house is a house that’s been on the market for at least as long as you remember (probably from the rumors of it being haunted), and unlike a lot of things that Mark has seen in the town, it hasn’t changed since the “for sale” sign is still planted on the front yard. Seeing this place, Mark comes to a halt. 

“Do you want to go in? For old time’s sake?”

“Sure,” you say. Mark takes the keys out of the ignition, hopping out of the jeep. You do the same as well, coming out of the car, and Mark receives you, the two of you walking around the house to the back door, where you used to enter.

“Hairpin?” He asks, holding out a hand. You reach for one in your hair, realizing that you’re not wearing one before reaching into your pocket, practically a junk drawer of odd little trinkets that you’re too lazy to drop in your purse.

Handing him a brown bobby pin, you let Mark work his magic. Picking locks was something Mark learned from his brother who is five years his senior which became handy when you two would sneak out here. 

When your parents finally caught on to Mark staying in your room at night, they said it couldn’t happen. It wasn’t that they didn’t like Mark – they made it pretty clear that out of all the high school boys who could date their daughter, Mark is probably the best they’ll get. But, it was just that they weren’t comfortable with you and Mark in your bedroom alone at night doing God knows what under their roof. Even though you told your parents that it was mostly harmless, just making out at the most, they still didn’t budge. 

It was actually your idea to come to this house since you didn’t want to sneak out too far and get in trouble if you came back home too late. You didn’t fear ghosts, for they are dead. What could they do? Knock some books off the shelf and write your name in blood? However, you certainly feared your parents, who are very much alive. You haven’t been here since senior year, only driving past this house when going to work or college. So when Mark opens the door, you’re flooded with memories. All of the times where Mark would bring his guitar from home and play a song he was working on. The times when neither of you would turn on the lights after the sun had gone way down, leaning in to make out. The times when Mark’s head would be on your chest while comfortable silence persisted between you two. 

The time when Mark took your virginity. 

The model furniture in the house has not changed a bit. You look at the striped couch, to the tousled pillow that seemed sat on. 

“So there was a showing of this house a few hours earlier,” Mark says. 

“And there isn’t gonna be a showing at,” you stop, checking your watch. “9 PM.”

“Which means we have the house to ourselves.” As if you’re being pulled by a foreign force, you and Mark make your way into the master bedroom. 

“Remember when we used to make out in this room?” You ask. You look up at Mark, your gaze lingering on his lips. Mark certainly looks manlier than he was in high school, the baby fat on his cheeks long gone, yet there’s still the same boy you fell in love with, the sweet boy that wouldn’t hesitate to rub your shoulders when you were stressed out, the soft boy with the contagious laugh. 

It seems like Mark has the same idea.

“Yeah, a little like this?” He leans in, his lips landing on yours. They taste like the same chapstick he used in high school, and you smile into the kiss, your movements languid as Mark nibbles on the delicate skin of your lips. Both of you take your time, neither of you moving away until Mark pulls away, a loud ‘pop’ sounding between you two. Your lips feel cold without his. 

Mark’s face is still close to yours as you feel his warm breath on your nose. You have so many words to say, so many thoughts bouncing about in your head, but none of them come out. 

“You know why I came home?” He suddenly asks. 

“Homesickness?” You answer breathlessly, recalling what he said at the coffee shop. 

“Yeah,” he settles with his response for a few seconds before inhaling sharply. “Partly.” He separates from you, so you can see his eyes, that large doe-like gaze that hinted at the seriousness of what he’s going to say. 

“For a while, I missed our boring city. The duck pond, the movie theater, the snow cone shop. College didn’t seem right. There was something missing, something important in my life.” He stops. “You. All the things I missed in our town were because you were in them. Remember when we would feed the ducks? Or watch a movie in the theater?” 

“Yeah,” you say. Ah, sweet memories. You always feel slightly empty going to those places. Mark continues. 

“I thought once I got settled into college, I would forget about you. But that felt impossible. I went to party after party, and my grades started falling, yet I was doing well enough to still pass my classes until the end of last semester. The counselor told me I had to redo statistics, poetry analysis, and music history, three out of my four classes. That’s when I decided that I needed to stop avoiding the problem and face it head-first. I landed here two weeks ago and went to your house. Your mom told me that I could find you at the coffee shop.”

Mark is silent, his lips pursing into a fine line as he tries to unlatch the tough words stuck in his throat. 

“I still love you. You are my home.” he chokes out. 

Stunned is an understatement. Shocked out of your damn mind sounds more like what you’re feeling right now. 

You’re silent, and Mark’s look is that of nervousness about what you’re going to say back. He’s internally screaming at himself. Did he really bare his soul to you after not contacting you for almost two years, just showing up out of the blue wanting to embed himself back into your life? It sounds ridiculous thinking about it now compared to when he was packing his stuff from his dorm. 

He’s interrupted in his thoughts when you start speaking. 

“If you missed me, then why didn’t you call me?” You ask.

Mark sighs, running a nervous hand through his hair. “There were times I had your contact pulled up on my phone, debating whether to call you.” Mark stops for a few moments, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. “But I always thought against it. I thought that maybe you moved on. You know the worst thing would be to call you and tell you I miss you while you’re on a date or something.” Mark has a sheepish look just describing this scenario, and this attempt at dramatic irony as humor doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You smile. 

“When my mom divorced my dad, she said that he was always holding her back. I didn’t want to do the same thing to you.” 

Silence is all that’s between you both now. This confession echoes in your mind, your expression remaining blank as Mark’s words bounce against the walls of your brain. When you look at Mark, his gaze is disappointed. “I shouldn’t have come back. What the hell made me think that you would take me back? This whole thing was stupid. Bye Y/N.” He turns around to leave the master bedroom, but something stops him. 

Your hand on his wrist. You look up at him, the bouncing words in your head starting to condense into something you can say. Your voice is quiet, contemplative. 

“For the first few months when college started, I wondered if I made the right decision. I thought maybe we should have tried to do a long-distance relationship.” You pause, studying Mark’s reaction, which is only a look of anticipation for your words. You lick your lips, starting once more. “But I always thought that missing you would fade away. That I would be able to go to the places that we went together without feeling a pang of sadness.” 

“Date after date I went on, I always found the slightest faults in every guy I met with. His nose is too big, his voice is annoying, he’s too tall. I always compared them to you.” Damn it, Giselle was right. You’re not over Mark. You were using college and work as an excuse to forget about your feelings. 

Feelings that Mark’s return sparked in you. 

Feelings that you’ve let float to the top of your mind now that you know Mark feels the same way about you.

“I still have feelings for you too,” You say finally. Your gazes lock. 

Leaning closer to Mark, you mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.” 

Once again, your lips touch, his hand reaching for your jaw. But this kiss definitely does not feel the same as the one you shared previously. The first one was shy, and gentlemanly whereas this one… not so much. It’s needy, one where you want Mark in you. 

Mark Lee took your virginity after prom junior year, taking you to this house when making out in his car got very heated. You weren’t ready to go home to your parents and brother so you snuck into this house, ready for more. 

Right now, you’re in the same position, as if you’re the same person you were all those years ago. Mark’s lips travel from your soft ones, wandering to your neck. He repositions his hands around your waist, trailing down to your bottom to give your butt a quick squeeze, and you whimper softly at Mark’s lips, how they sucked at your skin long enough for you to feel pleasure rushing through your veins before he nips it gently. 

This rhythm of sucking and nipping drives you crazy, and after waiting for Mark to make the next move, you decide that he isn’t going fast enough when you weakly try to take off his shirt. He finds your hands and puts them inside of his own. Against your neck, he mumbles, “Patience is a virtue, baby.” 

At this, you let Mark hold you, leading you to the king-size bed in the center of the room. You’re under him, his knee finding its place in between your legs, close to your throbbing pussy. Mark takes a good look at you under him. His hands move from bottom-up, from the bottom of your waist, up your tummy, against your breasts until he stops at your collarbone. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters. He readjusts himself so his face is closer to yours, his lips only a hair’s distance away. His dick rubs against your leg, and you gasp at this. His hands now wander under your top, gently moving over the skin of your abdomen. He inches slowly to the center of your bra, brushing it. 

As his hands shy away from under your shirt, you only grip his wrist. 

“Now. Please,” you beg. 

“Alright.” He smiles. “I don’t let pretty girls wait too long.” He drags the blouse off of you, revealing you in a white bra. He quickly strips off your pants, tossing them haphazardly on the floor by the bed. Mark is staring at you, his deep brown pools of eyes racking your figure in just your bra and underwear. 

“Stop looking and do me,” you whine, trying to curl up in a ball. Mark comes closer to you faster than you can think, holding both of your hands down. 

“Let me just look, baby. You have no idea how much I missed this.” The heat in your cheeks seems to overtake your face at Mark’s gazing. It’s like he’s voraciously gulping the sight of you, the deep brown pools called his eyes in wonder at your figure. Finally, he unzips his pants. 

But as he tries to pull down his zipper, it remains stubbornly in place. You titter at the sight. 

“Need a little help with that?” You ask mischievously. You sit upright, watching Mark on his knees as he tries to unzip his pants. 

“I think the zipper is stuck,” he says, a little flustered. 

“Here, let me.” Looking down, you notice how the zipper was stuck to a piece of fabric that was a part of the jeans. You cut your nails a few days ago, so you were going to have to use a bit of out-of-the-box thinking to fix this problem… 

Immediately, you lean down and bite against the fabric, holding it in place as you pull the zipper, and the zip comes gliding down. 

“Now that I know what your mouth is capable of…” He doesn’t continue his sentence, letting you fill in the gaps mentally. You roll your eyes, smiling. 

“You naughty boy.” Your eyebrows dance on your face. 

Pulling down Mark’s underwear reveals his erected cock, aroused from activity with you. Leaning in on all fours, you wrap your lips around it, softly nibbling the delicate skin. Mark moans loudly at this action, you feel fluid enter your mouth, swallowing it. 

“You always looked nice like this, sucking my cock,” Mark softly smirks at you, your eyes wide, as if they’re filled with innocence while you look up at him. He pets your hair, the strands airy and soft from the clementine shampoo you used yesterday. Once you’re done, you giggle, looking up at Mark once again. He takes his thumb and wipes the corner of your lip. 

“Good job kitten,” he says. His voice is breathy, seductive as you pant. 

“Are you ready for me now?” He asks. You nod vigorously. You don’t have time to take another breath when Mark pushes you against the headboard of the luxurious bed. He strips the remaining clothing off of you, your bra and underwear being thrown aside to the flood. His lips find their way to your neck, and you giggle at this. 

“You just love my neck, do you?” You ask slyly. 

“Give me a break. I haven’t felt this neck in two years.” You eventually slump against the headboard, your head slipping downwards from the large, mahogany piece of wood, now resting on the pillow as Mark’s lips make the arduous journey from your neck to your chest, his hands cupping your delicate breasts until his lips meet your nipples, delicately sucking the little buds. This sends chills down your bare back, that of exhilaration at how forbidden this sex was – this abandoned house was probably going to be checked by the realtor tomorrow morning, and they’ll probably notice that this house had some unexpected guests. But you don’t care because your thoughts are full of want: you want Mark Lee so bad. Even after two years of not contacting each other, he’s still capable of creating butterflies in your stomach. 

Mark moves from one nipple to the other before moving down your abdomen, down your smooth tummy, still warm from the heat your shirt provided. 

Mark skips from your stomach, his lips meeting your thighs instead. His lips are now at your inner thigh, pressing loud smooches against your hot skin. Again, with his pattern of sucking and letting go, licking and breathing over the soft pools of his saliva that stood on your skin that brought chills to your body, an art that Mark has mastered that makes you want him even more. Your legs swish in the air, due to the ticklishness of his kisses.

“Easy there tiger. I’ll come in, I promise.” He softly kisses your thigh, his hands holding open your thighs. This whole thing drives you crazy; you hate how you feel like jelly under Mark, how he’s managed to break down all your defenses, yet you absolutely adore it, secretly wanting to feel this way for a long time. 

A loud scream rips from your throat when Mark’s fingers – what you recognized as his index and middle finger – reach inside of your vagina. 

“God, you’re so loud, your parents probably heard you,” he jokes. 

“Shut up and do me,” you whine. Mark binds down your wrists with both of his hands. 

“Alright bossy,” he smirks. “You really want me to do you?” 

You know you misstepped when Mark pulls out his hand and instead shoves his dick inside. You pant loudly, gasping for breath at this. You feel your walls closing in, spreading pleasure through your veins as you feel his dick. You moan loudly.

You start to wildly thrash as Mark comes closer to you, his chest pressing against yours, his lips leaving whispers of kisses along your jawline as he moves around, shaking in you. You feel you’re not sane anymore, that everything is just an illusion compared to the pleasure Mark was putting in you. 

“Come on angel, say it, say my name,” he coaxes you as you continue to moan. 

“M-Mar-Mar-” you manage to stumble out. Words didn’t make sense in your head anymore, just feelings, emotions, images. Quite literally, Mark was fucking the brains out of you, and you were enjoying every second of it. 

“Sorry sugarplum, that’s not good enough. You know how many times I dreamed of you being under me, screaming my name in college?” He asks. Your brain is too fried to answer. 

“Well, I’ll spoil it for you. A lot. It’s our first time in two years, make it count, honey.” He says simply. You’re feeling obedient now as Mark pulls out, his cum dripping on the bed and yours falling out of your vagina, mingling with his. He pushes in once more, shaking himself inside of you. The minimal light outside shines onto your cheeks, making you look like a literal angel to Mark, possibly one that fell from grace considering the position he has you in. Nonetheless, you’re his angel that fell from grace, all his, no one else’s… 

“I’ll tell you again,” he says. “Say my name.” 

After a few moments, you can’t handle Mark in you, how your walls so easily wrap around him as if to trap him forever, to keep him with you. Your head is throbbing with the pleasure felt in your clit, and finally, you say something other than loud moans or whimpers. 

“Mark!” You roared. 

“There you go. You see?” He asks, a sparkle in his eye. He pulls out, leaving you dripping. “Was that so hard to ask?” 

“Yes,” you say playfully. 

“Now one more step,” he says. “Cum for me angel.” He smiles sweetly. He knows you through and through, what you like, what makes you tick, what makes you cum. 

Massaging your waist, he places his head on your breasts, gently nibbling at your body. This brings you to otherworldly levels of serotonin, and you feel something eject out of you. 

“There you go.” Mark watches as you slightly twitch as the cum spills from you. You’re breathing heavily, and Mark looks at you with a loving gaze. He leans in for one kiss, two kisses, a few more actually as his lips slip on and off of your soft mouth. 

“You did well angel,” he said. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You say to him. Love wasn’t the only thing you felt for the boy in front of you. He’s a multitude of other things for you. A best friend that tells you the hard truth when you need it, a confidant that would never judge despite what you told him, a caregiver when you need it. 

“Mark,” you say suddenly. He looks at you as if you’re the only thing in this world. He’s all ears. 

“You’re my home too.” 

tagging: @infnteen

“Wait, you what?” You screech incredulously, not caring about the loudness of your tone as you abruptly straighten up in your seat, the legs squeaking against the wooden flooring of the library. Other students with their heads shoved in books and laptop screens peek over to shush you angrily, one warning you about the volume of your voice but you pay them no attention as you’re staring wide eyed at Mark who sits across from you sheepishly. 

Mark Lee—one of the hot throbs living on campus, the smartest and kindest guy in class, and the biggest marvel freak has been your bestest friend for the past few years, having met in the middle of a school’s basketball court where fourteen-year-old Mark had tried to shoot some hoops to impress his newfound friends, only for the ball to come flying straight at your face and leaving you with a swollen eyeball and a busted up nose.

Mark was unbelievably apologetic, buying jellies and ripping up flowers from potted plants to give to you, begging for your forgiveness over and over again until you socked him in the face, giving him a hefty nosebleed and a bruised cheek. A toothy grin was spread across your cheeks as you had taken the gifts out of his hands, a happy ‘now we’re even!’ leaving your lips as you had ripped open the packet, offering a jelly, offering your friendship.

The two of you became inseparable and if someone saw one of you, they knew that the other would be trailing along behind them. You were two peas in a pod, the dynamic duo. You were so joined at the hip that when you both enrolled for college, you tried signing up for a dorm on campus, wanting to be roommates. 

It didn’t happen much to both of your dismay. Mark ended up rooming with one of his friends, Jaemin, while you got stuck with some girl you didn’t even know but had become acquainted with over a short period of time.

Still, you and Mark never strayed far from each other even with your roommates lingering around. Mark slept over at your place from time to time and vice versa, you’re certain that he even has a drawer for himself in your dresser filled with spare shirts, sweatpants and underwear. A lot of your mutual friends found it suspicious how you two could be so close with nothing going on, complaining how neither of you could be just friends even though it was the truth. You are just friends, you’re best friends.

“I’m just saying you’re complaining about not hooking up with someone for a few days while I haven’t slept with someone for, like, a month” Mark repeats to you with flushed cheeks, adjusting the black cap on his head with one hand while other skilfully flips a pen around his fingers, bottom lip jutting out. “Times are hard, dude. I got assignments coming out of my ass—”

“There’s no way you haven’t hooked up with someone recently” You hiss between teeth, refusing to believe a word that comes out of his mouth when he’s talking about such nonsense. A student from the table next to yours turns around in their seat in annoyance to look at you, pressing their finger aggressively against their lips to tell you to quiet down and you scoff, throwing them the middle finger with your own irritancy and annoyance.

“Can you not?” Mark scolds you as he wraps his hand around your own, squeezing in warning as he pushes it back down to the table and sends the student an apologetic smile, and as always, it works like a charm as they shyly smile back and return back to their book. It makes you scoff again and Mark is quick to look at you, “I’m telling you the truth, you know”

“Bullshit” You murmur, sending him a glare. “That girl from my study group was over at your dorm last weekend—I saw her snapchat stories”

“Dude, we’re in the same study group. She came over for some of my notes and stayed longer because Jaemin offered her an ounce of his ‘premium weed’” Mark explains, putting emphasis around the word ‘premium weed’ which has you snorting, knowing that there was nothing premium about Jaemin’s stash. “She eventually ended up sleeping over and fucking Jeno anyways”

Your face contorts into a look of confusion at that, “What? Jeno isn’t even your roommate?”

“I know,” Mark grimaces. “Jaemin’s sheets are still in the dryer”

“Oh…” You pause, humming as the realisation finally hits you. “So that’s why Jaemin didn’t have any sheets on his bed when I came over on Monday”

“Yea—wait, you came over Monday?” Mark’s head snaps towards you, eyes narrowing in on you as he jabs his pen in your direction. “Did you fuck in my bed?!

“No, of course not” You scoff, deeply offended by his accusation and Mark lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing his shoulders as he leans back into his chair. “We actually fucked on the sofa—”

“Are you fucking kidding m—”

“That’s besides the point!!” You cut him off before he can grill into you, silencing him as you raise your hand in front of his face as he tries to retaliate again. “You haven’t fucked anyone in a month, Mark. That’s… that’s blasphemy!!”

Mark deadpans, “I’m pretty sure that’s not blasphemy”

“Whatever, you know what I mean” You discard it, shoving your books and pens as far away from you as you possibly could, no longer interested in studying the endless amount of words on that page now that you’ve discovered your best friend hasn’t gotten laid in so long. You sit comfortably in your chair as you fully face him, tucking your legs beneath you. “I can’t believe you fucked someone in a month…”

“You’re telling me” Mark huffs, deciding to push away his studies too for the time being as he rubs at his face in frustration, groaning beneath his palms. You console him with a frown, rubbing his shoulder in pity and Mark drops his hands to his lap, looking over at you with a glare. “I can’t believe you didn’t believe me, dude… why would I lie about something like that?!”

“I don’t know—you fuck more than I do, of course I’m not gonna believe a word you say when you tell me something like that!!” You’re quick to defend yourself, both you and Mark knowing you’re speaking the truth. 

Mark does fuck more than you. His boyish charm and adorable face doesn’t hide the fact that his body count is currently sitting in its twenties and that his online bank statements show how many packs of condoms he’s buying weekly, and maybe a few plan B’s lingering there somewhere for extra precaution. He was always on the safe side which didn’t surprise you, he was nowhere ready to be extremely stupid and possibly impregnate someone, especially a stranger. 

“Dude… you didn’t have to say it out loud like that…” Mark mutters under his breath, cheeks dusting a slight pink as another student turns around in their seat to glare at the pair of you and comically widens her eyes as she meets Mark’s, shyly tucking her hair behind her ears with a kind smile that Mark reciprocates. You scoff at her reaction and lean back in your seat just as Mark’s attention is brought back to you. “Are we done with this conversation? I’d like to change the topic from my non-existent sex life to something more appealing”

“Fine… you still going to Johnny’s later?”

“Nah, he’s got some important family thing to go to so we’re hanging another time” Mark sighs softly, taking the cap off of his head to run his fingers through his hair before adjusting it back on. “You cool if I came over with you?”

“Sure” You grin, already shoving your books into your tote bag, eager to leave the library as soon as you possibly can. Mark snorts in amusement but follows closely behind as he shoves his own belongings into his backpack and rests the strap on his shoulder. You turn your head to see the girl still staring over at Mark and you smirk, slamming one hand on the desk in front of her to get her attention before jabbing your thumb in Mark’s direction. “If you want his number, I can give it to you. He’s been stuck in a dry spell recently so—”

Mark’s fingers curl around your elbow, dragging you away from the traumatised girl with a huff, “Move”

“I’ve been thinking about something…” You begin after a few hefty hours of studying and bingeing out on food, dropping your chopsticks in the empty ramen cup and pushing it to the side. Mark sits beside you on the sofa, his own ramen cup in hand as he stares at his laptop screen, taking in the words that need to be remembered for his class.

Mark gives you a pointed look as he slurps his ramen, “That doesn’t sound good”

“Wow, hilarious” You deadpan with a roll of your eyes as he chuckles under his breath, turning his head back to the laptop screen. “Anyway—and hear me out before you say some dumbass shit—I’ve been thinking about something that relates to that little problem we both have, and I may have just thought of a way to fix it”

“Why are you still hung up on this?” Mark whines between mouthfuls. “I don’t want to be reminded that I’m not having sex, dude—"

“Ah!” You hold up your hand to shush him and he goes cross eyed to stare at your palm. “I said hear me out”

“Okay”

“Great! Okay, so, me and you are the best of friends, right? Like, we always help each other out and—”

“Where is this going?”

“Hear. Me. Out” You warn once more and Mark sighs, nodding his head to let you continue. “We always help each other out, right? And there’s no awkwardness between us at all which makes us close. Do you remember that time we had to make-out in front of Sejun so he would stop awkwardly hitting on me? And that time I pretended to be your girlfriend so Rina would get the hint that you didn’t want to fuck her anymore?”

“That didn’t exactly work out because we slept with them a few days after it happened—”

“That’s not the point” You say as you frustratingly rub at your temples. “The point is that we always help each other out, no matter what the situation is because we’re best friends. So, as best friends, I think we should help each other out with our little situation”

“And how can we help each other out”

“By fucking each other” The second those words leave your lips, Mark chokes on his ramen, fist banging against his chest as he coughs, eyes watery and face red and it has you cackling, wishing you had your phone nearby to take a picture. Mark takes deep breaths as he finally consumes air, reaching down to grab his bottle of water that rests beside the leg of the sofa, gulping it down almost immediately. “You’re so dramatic”

“And you’re crazy!!” Mark shoots back, water droplets falling from his chin as he looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you realise what you just said?”

You grin, “Perfectly!”

“We’re not fucking each other, it’ll be too weird” You instantly find offense to that, your jaw dropping and Mark rolls his eyes. “We’re best friends. Best friends don’t do that type of shit—Stop looking at me like that!”

You huff, turning your head away from him childishly, “I’m just trying to help us out. I don’t think it’ll be weird, people have done weirder”

“Do you know how many friendships have been ruined because they fucked?” Mark questions you and you take a moment to ponder, wincing as you can easily name a few from the top of your head. “Exactly. As much as I find you attractive, I’m not going to ruin our friendship. We’ve been best friends for too long”

Your head slowly whirls back to Mark who’s already staring at you and you smile, flirtily batting your eyelashes at him, “You think I’m attractive?”

“You’re unbelievable, jesus fucking chri—” Mark cuts himself off, rubbing his forehead as he exhales deeply due to his frustration. You beam at the thought of getting under his skin, but you roll your eyes and reach over to press your foot into his side to bring his attention back to you.

Mark looks over at you with a deadpan expression and you grin softly, tilting your head to the side as you admire the view. You’ve always found Mark attractive even if it was in a friendly way, and you’d be lying if you said that sleeping with him has never crossed your mind, but that’s because you’re nosy and want to see what all the fuss is about when you continuously hear the girls gush about what he’s like in bed.

Some say he’s pretty giving, tending to their needs in all ways possible while others say he comes across as needy and desperate, begging for his cock to be sucked. It piques your interest immensely… Maybe it was wrong of you to think that way about someone you know so well, but you’re human after all, sometimes you can’t help the way you think. 

“Look…” You speak first. “What I said was just a suggestion, okay? If you don’t want to do it then that’s fine—”

“How do you know that it won’t ruin our friendship?” Mark cuts you off and your eyebrows raise in surprise at the question. “We’ve been friends for, like, nine years or something, dude… I don’t know about you but I don’t want to throw that all away because we messed up and decided to fuck each other just because we’re horny”

“We’re not going to get into anything serious” You tell him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure, we’re probably going to be in some type of friends with benefits situation but we’re not going to include any of that ‘official’ or ‘exclusive’ bullshit. We just fuck each other for a release when we can’t find it anywhere else, it’s as simple as that. No complications”

“So…” Mark purses his lips in deep thought. “We can still fuck other people?”

You scoff, “Of course. You think I’d drop Jaemin for you that easily?”

“Fuck you”

Your lips curl into a smirk, “I’m hoping you would”

Mark stares at you before chuckling, shaking his head as his tongue pokes at his cheek. The little act spurs you on but you remain seating, wanting Mark to make the first move if he was game in fucking you to help relieve the stress you’re both feeling, maybe Mark more than you considering you fucked Jaemin a few days ago, but you were desperate to be filled again.

You watch Mark ponder for a moment, his bottom lip jutting down deep in thought, brows pulling together as he thinks about the pros and cons. His hands come up to pull the cap off of his head, his hair messily falling in front of his eyes and your thighs press together at the thought of seeing it between your legs with your fingers tangled through the locks. You snort at how deluded you sound.

“What time does your roommate come back tonight?” Mark questions you, his low voice bringing you out of your thoughts and your body buzzes with excitement, reaching over to snag your phone off of the coffee table to check the time and you grin wildly when you realise she won’t be home for another three hours. You inform him immediately and he nods, “Cool. Good to know”

“So?” You press, chucking your phone back onto the coffee table as you look at him expectedly. “What’s it going to be?”

“No titles—”

“None at all”

“We can still fuck whoever we want—”

“Even the neighbours”

“And most importantly…” Mark pauses with a deep sigh, leaning closer to you and holding up his hand with his pinky finger outstretched. “We’re still best friends”

“It’ll be like nothing ever changed” You say softly with a smile, raising your own hand to curl your pinky finger around his own, squeezing tightly. It’s silent between you both for a while and you can clearly see the cogs turning inside Mark’s head as he thinks about his next move, yet you’re the one that takes the initiative. 

You rip your hand away from his to throw your arms around his shoulders, dragging him towards you to plant your lips on his in a heated kiss. You’re surprised at how fast Mark responds as his palms come up to cup your cheeks, tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper as his tongue moulds with yours. 

The few drunken kisses you’ve shared with Mark to help each other out of situations is nothing like the kiss you’re experiencing now and it catches you extremely off guard. You almost expected him to allow you to take control of the situation and lead him through, but with the way Mark’s pushing you down to the sofa and crawling in between your open legs with his lips still attached to yours, you’re stumped. 

“Wait” You stop him, pressing your hand against his shoulder to push him back and Mark moves away with puckered lips, his fingers hovering above the waistband of your shorts which causes you to snort, “Why are we doing this on the sofa when there’s a perfectly good bed in my room?”

Mark glares down at you, “That didn’t stop you and Jaemin fucking on my sofa”

“Actually, there was no sheets on Jaemin’s bed, so—”

“Think of this as payback” Mark smiles at you sweetly and you snarl, knocking your knee against his side with force and he laughs through clenched teeth, “Besides, you’ve probably fucked a lot of people on this sofa…. Do you really care?”

“Are you implying that I’m a slut”

“Yeah”

“God, that’s so hot of you”

Mark snorts out a laugh and leans down to reconnect your lips as his hands pull your shorts and underwear down your legs, carelessly throwing them somewhere to the side and you hiss at the cold air that hits, yearning for warmth. 

Mark’s lips trail down your throat and to the collar of your shirt, heading south to where your thighs shake in anticipation, watching as he shifts down to lay between your legs, hands pushing against your knees to spread you apart further.

Your hand reaches down to pull the cap off of his head, revealing his messy hair beneath and you toss it over the sofa, caring so little about where it lands as you thread your fingers through his locks, trying to tug him closer but he barely budges, staring up at you with his brows laced together.

“Hurry” You whine.

“Are you always this impatient?”

“Of course” You look at him like he’s stupid. “We’re both doing this for a reason and it’s to cum, not to take our sweet little time and—Oh fuck!”

“You talk too much” He drags his tongue through your folds, the pink muscle swirling around your clit and your body jerks, a gasp flying past your lips as you dig your fingers further into his hair, the feeling of his tongue wiggling between your folds and licking upwards to flick over your clit before his fingers tease at your entrance.

Your body goes slack against the sofa cushions as he eases his two digits inside the warmth of your walls, curling his fingers upwards as his lips wrap around your sensitive bud and you whine, tugging on his hair a little harder which causes him to groan, the vibrations causing goosebumps to rise to your skin. 

You’re in shock at how well Mark uses his tongue and fingers against you. You’ve heard stories from your girl friends and Mark himself, but you didn’t realise he was this good and it completely caught you off track, unable to control the noises that rip from your chest when he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your pussy while his tongue continues to work wonders on your clit.

“Mark” You say his name with a moan, thighs twitching and closing in around his head and you feel him smile against your cunt, causing you to squeeze around his head in warning, “Stop it”

“You gonna cum already?” He asks as he lifts his head, mouth glistening with your arousal and his fingers hitting the spot that has your toes curling and back arching against the cushions. “You can cum, if you want. Let it go”

“You’re so cocky” You chuckle, but your amusement slips away and is overcome by pleasure as he pumps his fingers a few more times, the tightening band in your stomach snapping as you cum all over his hand, gasping through high pitched whines and trying to control the convulsing movement of your body.

“That’s it” Mark hums, pressing a quick kiss to your clit. “There you go…”

“Oh my god” You choke out, your hand falling limp on his shoulder as it drops from his hair, your fingers twitching over the material. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Me eating you out” He answers simply with smugness in his tone, popping his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean and your mouth drops in shock at the action. “You good?”

“Yeah, good” You nod dumbly, completely astonished at how nonchalant Mark is, watching as he tugs his jeans and boxers down his legs awkwardly when he sits up, your eyes immediately zoning in on his cock that slaps against his stomach once freed from its confinements. 

Truthfully, you’ve seen Mark naked as he’s so comfortable stripping in front of you without any thought. But, you’ve never seen Mark hard and the sight alone is enough to have your mouth watering in anticipation. Your best friend is huge. 

“Okay” Mark speaks to himself, shuffling forwards on his knees and hooking his hands under the back of yours to pull you closer, his thumbs caressing your skin. “You ready? You know there’s no turning back from this, right?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be” You grin, wiggling against him excitedly. “Give me what you got, baby!”

“Don’t call me that, dude” Mark tuts, shaking his head as he slowly slides his cock into you. Your eyes slowly start to widen at the stretch, the burn obvious in your thighs and your hand flies down to his in hopes to slow down his movements despite him going as slow as he possibly could.

You breathe steadily through your nose, lips pressed together tightly as you wince at the uncomfortable ache that spreads, your pussy squeezing down on him as if you were trying to prevent him from entering any further. 

“Ow” You mutter beneath your breath, twisting your hips to try and get comfortable and relax but you wince at the movement you make, causing Mark to raise his head from where you’re connected to look into your eyes, his own pooling with concern.

“You alright?”

“Mhm” You hum with a curt nod. “Nothing of that significant size has been up there before, you know? I’m just… feeling uncomfortable, that’s all”

His lips curl into a grin, “You calling my dick big?”

You give him a hardened glare, “Not as big as your fucking head”

Mark laughs loudly, his hand laying flat across your lower tummy as he adjusts himself in between your legs, head ducking down to watch himself carefully push into you once more but the second your legs tense up, he sighs apologetically and strokes your tummy as he slides out of you and you whine at the feeling of emptiness, looking at him with a pout.

“Hold on…” He tells you softly, gently grabbing your waist to help flip you over on all fours, his hands sliding around your back and pressing down slightly, arching it to hold you in place as you feel his cock prod at your entrance. “This should feel better. But tell me if it still hurts, okay? I don’t want to hurt you anymore”

“Just—” You grit your teeth together. “Just fuck me, Mark”

“Okay” Mark whispers as he eases himself into you again at a slow pace and you gasp, your fingers gripping the arm of the sofa, your head dropping to rest on the cushions as you try to control your breathing. The new position was definitely better than the last, but you can still feel him stretch you out to fit you around his cock. “Is my dick really that big?”

“Are you asking because you’re concerned or because you want me to boost your ego?”

Mark smiles, “Maybe both”

You don’t even get a chance to retaliate as Mark begins to fill you up completely, his hips pressing against your ass and you whine at how full you feel, unable to think properly as he pulls his cock out, leaving the tip nestled in your cunt before thrusting back in. 

He curses loudly behind you, fingers digging into your hips as he rocks his hips into you, his powerful thrusts sending your body jerking forwards. You squeeze around his cock and he moans, his pace speeding up and you can’t help but fuck yourself back onto him, whining and panting at the pleasure that swirls in the pit of your tummy. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin is enough to have your eyes rolling back, the lewd sounds driving you even closer to the edge along with his rapid thrusts and continuous cursing. You’re positive you can hear him mumble about how ‘fucking tight your pussy’ is. You would’ve never guessed he was into such dirty talk, Mark continues to amaze you. 

Your pussy swallows around his length when you feel his hand sneak beneath your body to reach between your fingers, the pads of his fingers rubbing diligent circles on your clit and you mewl, your own hand coming down to latch around his wrist.

“Sh...shit” You slur, drool seeping past the corner of your lips. “So good—Fuck, don’t stop—s’good”

“I’m not gonna stop” You hear Mark whisper and you could feel the tears build up in your eyes as Mark leans over your body, holding himself up with one hand on the arm of the sofa, his other playing with your clit as he quickens his thrusts, his cock hitting deeper than before that it has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your body tenses up as his cock ploughs into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot over and over before your second orgasm of the night hits you violently.

Your screams are muffled by your own hand, walls pulsating around his cock as you cum, struggling to hold up your weight as your body falls limp on the sofa, pleasure buzzing through your veins and sending your mind whirling as Mark fucks you through it to reach his own high, moving his hand from your clit to rest on your lower back, arching your ass up to fuck you deeper.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He pants, his thumb stroking the top of your ass cheeks. “Fuck, tell me where I can cum”

“Anywhere you want” You garble your words, turning your head to the side to look at him, noticing how his eyes widen slightly. 

“Anywhere?” Mark repeats as he slows his hips and you nod, yelping in shock when he pulls out of you completely and flips your body around once more, staring at him in surprise as he crawls up your body, resting his one hand on your cheek and pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. “Here?”

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you open wide and Mark grins, pushing the head of his cock into your mouth and sighing as your lips close around him, letting you suckle on his tip as he cums in long spurts down your throat, brows lacing together in pleasure and moaning softly as your tongue presses against his slit, drinking up everything he gives to you.

It’s silent between you both as Mark removes himself from above you, opting to crash down in the limited space between your body and the sofa, running his fingers through his sweaty hair as he breathes heavily. 

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened, staring between Mark’s naked lower half and yours before you abruptly sit up, rolling onto your knees as you stare down at him incredulously. 

“Dude!” You screech, punching his shoulder with such force that has him wincing. 

“Ow! Jesus Chri—”

“What the fuck?! Why did you tell me you were that good?” You immediately cut him off, not allowing him to speak as you shake your head. “We should’ve done this years ago!!”

Mark rolls his eyes in annoyance despite the grin that spreads across his lips as he throws his arm over his face, “Shut up”

“Okay, so, let me repeat that—” Renjun pauses to chew and swallow his sandwich, pointing between you and Mark on the opposite side of the table “—you two decided to fuck each other last night because neither of you have fucked someone in a long time and now you’ve made some sort of deal that when you can’t find release elsewhere, you’ll go to each other?”

“Yeah”

“What the fuck?!” Renjun exclaims, looking at you both as if you’ve grown an extra head before abruptly turning to Donghyuck and Jaemin who sit silently together, watching everything unfold. “Why aren’t you guys saying anything?!”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be” Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he turns to look at you with his brows laced together, “Although, I’m kind of offended you didn’t ask me to fuck you”

You grimace, “It makes me queasy thinking about where your dick has been”

“When was the last time you got tested, Hyuck?” Mark teases, a slight smirk curling at the end of his lips as he leans back into his chair, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. Donghyuck rolls his eyes and retaliates by throwing him the middle finger to which Mark laughs at.

“And you’re okay with this?” Renjun questions Jaemin who slowly nods as he rolls a blunt beneath the table, lips pursed in concentration. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He grumbles, lifting his eyes to Renjun and raises a brow before looking back down to his lap. “Besides, sometimes I get so faded that I can’t even get my dick up. She needs good dick and I can’t give it to her when I’m that out of it”

You gasp in awe, reaching out to pinch his cheek, “You are so thoughtful!”

“So I’m the only sane person that thinks this is a stupid idea?” Renjun shakes his head in disbelief, biting into his sandwich with a sigh. His eyes widen, a piece of lettuce hanging from his mouth as he erratically pats his pockets, “Where’s Jeno? Somebody text Jeno”

“You know damn well Jeno isn’t going to give a shit” Donghyuck cackles. “Pretty sure he fucked his best girl friend last year”

“Yeah? And where is she now?” Renjun looks at you all for an answer and you frown, sinking into your seat with your arms crossed over your chest, “Exactly!!”

“Come on, dude, it’s not like that…” Mark tries to explain. “We talked about it. We’re not doing any of that exclusive or official stuff, we’re not making it weird”

“Meaning we can still fuck whoever we want” You add on, turning to look at Jaemin with a pretty smile and he looks back at you with a smirk, dropping his left eye into a flirtatious wink before resuming back in rolling his joint. 

“So, what I’m hearing is—” Donghyuck pauses, leaning his elbows on his table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he bats his eyelashes at you, “There’s still a chance for you to fuck me?”

“I have more of a chance of getting fucked than you, Hyuck” Jeno’s voice interrupts from behind and you whiz around in your seat, grinning as you see Jeno nearing towards your table with his jacket in one hand and his books in the other. 

He greets you all with a smile, placing his belongings down on the table before grabbing an empty chair from another, scraping the metal across the floor as he drags it to place beside Mark, slapping his hand down on his shoulder in greeting as he sits.

“Anyway, what are we talking about?”

“Mark and Y/N fucked” Renjun immediately jumps into it and you sigh, throwing your head back in frustration as Mark laughs beside you. “And they’re going to continue to fuck whenever they have no one else to, so—”

“Cool”

Renjun stares at Jeno incredulously. “That’s not cool!! You’re all helpless, every single one of you”

Jeno pulls a face, “You know, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be—”

“That’s what I said~” Donghyuck sings.

“—and besides, they’re grown adults, they can do whatever they want” Jeno’s words make your brows raise with little surprise, watching as he flips open his book and grabs the pen that rests behind his ear, tugging off the cap with his teeth before looking at you, “I’m surprised it took you this long to actually hook-up, I thought it would’ve happened months ago”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just means I thought you two would’ve fucked months ago” Jeno smiles and shrugs innocently, blowing the cap out of his mouth and catching it with his hand before he begins scribbling on the pages and you roll your eyes, craning your neck over your shoulder to look at Mark who shrugs his own shoulders, not fully understanding the meaning of Jeno’s words but chooses not to dwell on it any longer as he reaches for his drink, sipping through the straw as he gives his attention to Donghyuck who angles his phone in his direction to show him something that you could barely see.

Renjun shakes his head in disbelief, shoving the last remaining bite of his sandwich into his mouth and grabbing his own book out of his backpack to take notes alongside Jeno before comically raising his head up to point his pen at you and Mark.

“Also, I don’t want to hear any complaining from either of you when this whole ‘friends with benefits relationship’ bullshit ends up going to literal shit” Renjun warns before slowly turning the pen to point it as himself, “Because I will laugh in your face and simply say, ‘I told you so’”

A scoff leaves your lips as Mark speaks up, “Relax, dude, everything is going to be fine. And besides, it could just be a one time thing… It might not even happen again” Mark eyes you, “Right?”

Your lips curl into a smile as you lean your elbows on the table, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you give him a short nod, “Right”

“Mark, Mark, Mark” You moan out his name repeatedly, back arching off of your bed and gripping the pillows behind your head, mouth open wide as Mark’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy, waves of slick splashing onto the sheets below and his boxers. He laughs as you shove your face into your arm, body trembling and whines slipping past your lips from the overwhelming sensation of him fucking you with his fingers.

Your legs clamp shut around his hand but he’s already prying you back open with his other, holding them down to the bed as his fingers curl up into the sweet spot that has you trembling through your orgasm, almost bringing yourself to tears at the pressure in the pit of your tummy.

“There we go…” Mark hums, milking you for every drop you can give. You quiver and gasp as Mark comes to a stop, grinning as he pulls his fingers away from your cunt and you mewl, struggling to raise your foot and kick him in his side but he captures your ankle in his grasp, drawing circles with his fingertips. “You good?”

“You good” You mock with a scoff, arms flopping to your sides as you take a deep breath, ignoring the way Mark laughs again. “I felt like I was going crazy... that was intense”

“Thank you” Mark cheeses, eyes beaming as he slips off of your bed. “You need to change your sheets though”

“So gentlemanly of you to offer to help” You mutter sarcastically under your breath with a tut, standing up from the bed and your knees buckle beneath you, causing you to reach out and grab onto a surface to steady yourself, throwing your middle finger up in Mark’s direction as he snickers. 

He tells you to go shower while he takes care of the sheets and you immediately oblige, patting his arm in a quick thank you as you wobble out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, eager to clean yourself up after previous activities. 

You take a little longer than usual to shower, taking your time to scrub your body clean and even wash your hair, not even caring about what Mark could be doing inside your home as he waits for you, but you pause your routine as you begin to think about your relationship with Mark.

You’ve been hooking up for almost three weeks, showing up at each other's place whenever you’re in need of sex and getting the deed done before hanging out, getting a bite to eat or even watching something on the TV. You still sleep with Jaemin, you’ve even fucked Jaemin and Mark on the same day. Mark doesn’t care, and personally neither do you, but you start to recall the amount of times you have chosen Mark over Jaemin, and it was a lot.

You and Mark fuck whenever you have no one else to go to, yet given the choices… you still choose Mark. 

“Dude!” Mark bangs his fist on the bathroom door, yanking you out of your thoughts, “I need to piss, hurry up!”

“Just come in!” You yell back at him, frowning as you face the stream of water to let the soap run off your body as you mumble, “It’s not like you haven’t barged in before”

You hear the door yank open behind the shower curtain and you poke your head around just in time for Mark to unzip his pants to relieve himself, his head tilting back with a sigh. His eyes meet yours and his brows pull together, giving you an odd look.

“What?”

“Can I ask you a question?” He blinks before giving you a nod, “Are you still fucking other people?”

“Yeah” That answer relieves you a bit. “I was with Arin last weekend”

“Okay, I have another question”

“Why are you—”

“I’m asking the questions” You cut him off and he chuckles, nodding for you to continue as he zips up his pants and washes his hands. “Has Arin, or any other girl, been available on the same day that I’ve asked you to come over?”

“Um…” Mark ponders for a moment, his bottom lip poking out in deep thought as he dries his hands on the towel. “Yeah, I think so”

“And who did you choose to go to?”

“You” It shocks you at how fast he answers and you grip the shower curtain for support, the slippery floor of the shower almost making you tumble. He chose you too. Is that wrong? You’re uncertain and it makes you feel a little uneasy. Surely there must be a reasonable explanation to why you choose each other instead of fucking the other available people. “Why are you asking me that anyways?”

“Curious” You say as you close the curtain shut to block him out and continue showering, ignoring the way he’s laughing and muttering beneath his breath how funny you are. “Wait, I have another question—”

“Ask me when you’re done showering”

“Why?” Your voice turns sultry as you begin to smirk, “Is knowing that I’m naked behind this flimsy shower curtain turning you on?”

Mark doesn’t answer, instead his arm shoots out from behind the curtain, hand curling around the tap to turn the temperature of the water, laughing like a maniac as he hears you scream from the cold water that splashes on your skin. 

You hated birthdays. 

Realistically, you hated your birthday. You hated knowing you’re getting older every year, desperately wanting to go back to the ages where all you worried about was not making a fool of yourself in front of someone you crushed on or not knowing the biggest high school gossip about who was seeing who behind whoever's back. Now, at your growing age, all you worry about is failing college and not being able to get a good job to provide a future for yourself. 

You wish nobody knew it was your birthday, but having such close friends who knew you better than you knew yourself, it wasn’t going to be easy, and you nearly spun around and darted out of campus when you saw Donghyuck twirling a gift bag in hand with helium balloons that spelled out ‘birthday girl’ in big, bold letters tied to his wrist.

“Oh! There she is!”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. 

“Happy birthday!” Donghyuck yells loudly when you reach their circle, letting your backpack drop to the grass beside Jaemin who looks up at you with a dopey smile. Donghyuck shoves the gift bag into your lap when you finally sit down, huffing at the weight of the bag. “I bought you something!!”

“We told him not to” Jeno tells you, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he looks at you through his bangs, “But as always, Donghyuck doesn’t listen”

“And I never will” Donghyuck chirps, untying the string of the balloons from around his wrist to tie them around yours instead, ignoring the dark look you give him as he smiles cheekily at you, “Look inside. It’s all the essentials you need, pretty”

“I swear to god, If you—”

“Shh” He presses his fingers against your lips. “Less talking, more looking”

You roll your eyes, whacking his hand away from your face before peering into the bag, a soft laugh leaving your lips when you first see two bottles of your favourite alcoholic beverage and a few chocolates, but you immediately deadpan when you see a pack of condoms and a plan B box sandwiched between the pair, staring back at you.

Jaemin peers over your shoulder to drop a premade joint and a few gummies into the bag for later but makes a funny noise when he sees the condom pack, dipping his hand inside the bag to pull it out, throwing it back at Donghyuck who fumbles to catch it.

“Hey—”

“She doesn’t use condoms”

Donghyuck gapes, slowly turning his head towards you with his eyes wide as he leans forward, his nose brushing against yours as he speaks lowly, “Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Positive” You giggle and pat his cheek as he whines in defeat, slumping back into his own space. “Thank you for the gifts, but please… you know I hate celebrating my birthday. And were the balloons really necessary too? Did you have to make it more obvious?”

“But the balloons are pretty” Donghyuck frowns, tugging on the string.

“She doesn’t like balloons, dude” 

Your head whizzes around so quickly that you’re positive you could hear it crack at the speed, grinning wildly when you see Mark standing behind you looking at your balloons in disgust, and your brows raise in surprise when you see Arin beside him. You greet her with a wave and she reciprocates, wishing you a quiet happy birthday which you thank her for and you gesture them both to join you in your circle but Arin shakes her head with an apology, announcing that she has to meet up with someone else. 

You watch as she places her hand on Mark’s bicep and asks if they can meet up later but Mark shakes his head, telling her that he already has plans and her face deflates before nodding in understanding, bidding him and the rest of you goodbye before leaving.

Mark lets out a huff as he drops down to the grass, stretching out his legs and knocking his foot against yours, mouthing you a quick happy birthday and you smile in gratitude.

“Arin seems to be hanging out with you a lot recently” Jeno points out, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing out the smoke in Renjun’s direction, causing him to cough and swat the smoke away with the book he’s got his face buried in. “You like her?”

Mark shakes his head, “No. She was just asking me if I wanted to come over this weekend”

“Are you?”

“Nah” Mark mindlessly starts plucking the grass, avoiding everyone's eyes as they zone in on him. “I don’t have time, got some assignments to finish for my classes”

Hearing him say he hasn’t got the time sparks interest in you and you begin to wonder if Mark would end up asking you for some well needed release. It excites you, especially when you realise you haven’t been under or on top of him in a few days and you press your thighs together at the thought of possibly being dicked down sooner rather than later. 

It’s a birthday gift, you think to yourself when you try to give an excuse to why you’re so needy to be fucked by Mark. It’s just a birthday gift. Yet, you have Jaemin right beside you, someone who’s easily available and someone who used to be frequent in giving you the best birthday sex. 

You could ask Jaemin to come over tonight, but why isn’t the question being asked? Why does it feel like you’re stopping yourself from asking something so simple and easy? Perhaps you’re so used to sleeping with Mark that it doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone else anymore. Jaemin doesn’t seem to be bothered, maybe because he’s been getting his fix elsewhere too, so why does it bother you?

A soft call of your name brings you out of your thoughts and you turn your head towards the source, seeing Mark looking back at you with a kind smile. He shuffles further into the circle to get closer to you, voice dipping low as he speaks.

“Come home with me later? I have something for you”

“What is it?” You ask back, excitement filling your voice. Even though you weren’t a big fan of celebrating your birthday and receiving gifts, there was no doubt in your mind that Mark was probably one of the best people to receive gifts from, knowing he usually goes above and beyond to give you the most memorable birthday. You smile when you remember the three-day spa voucher he gave you last year when he had taken you away for the weekend.

It was the most breath-taking cabin you have ever been to, the sunset above the lake still photographed in your memory. The sight was beautiful, and you were grateful to have seen it with your best friend.

“You’ll find out” Mark tells you with a smile, refusing to give you a hint of any sort as he turns his attention to Renjun to engage in a conversation and you pout, shoulders slumping in defeat and Donghyuck knocks his arm against yours, voice dipping low as he whispers in your ear.

“That plan B will come in handy after all—OUCH!”

“This is fucking ridiculous” You giggle as you’re blindly walked in Mark’s apartment, his hands covering your eyes to prevent you from seeing anything even though you tried to peek through the gaps between his fingers. Mark’s chest rumbles against your back as he laughs, waiting for you to toe off your shoes at the entrance before leading you further into the apartment.

You have the layout completely mapped out in your head from the amount of times you’ve been at his place, already knowing that he’s bringing you into the kitchen just by the cold marbling that you feel beneath your feet.

You almost trip as Mark plants you down on a chair and he whispers a countdown in your ears before he removes his hands from your face. Your vision is blurry for a moment and you try to adjust to your surroundings with a few blinks, your jaw dropping in awe as the splotches begin to disperse, allowing you to see what’s in front of you.

“Are you kidding me?” You whisper softly in astonishment at the gifts that are presented in front of you on the table. You spot a few of your favourite scented candles stacked on top of each other, a bottle of perfume that you were 100% sure that was sitting in your wishlist on an online store you were browsing a few days prior and a miniature bag with the logo of your favourite jewellery store. 

You feel overwhelmed, the urge to cry becoming harder to keep at bay as your eyes water and sting, throat tightening over how thoughtful Mark had been. You turn your head towards him with your bottom lip quivering and Mark snickers, pulling a party hat from god knows where and comes closer to you

“You asshole” You insult jokingly, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe at your eyes, hoping that the tears wouldn’t dare fall as Mark secures the pointed hat on top of your head. You point to it, “Isn’t this a little cheesy?”

Mark rolls his eyes, snapping the elastic bad against your chin for extra measure and you hiss at the slight sting it causes, punching his arm in retaliation but he pays no mind, smiling to himself as he faces his back to you as he pulls open the refrigerator door to pick up a white squared box. He balances it on the palm of his hand with ease, using his foot to kick the refrigerator door shut as he makes his way back to you.

You’re grinning widely at the thought of what could be inside the box even though you’ve already guessed its cake, rubbing your hands together excitingly as Mark places it on the counter and gently slides it over to you, the box still in his grasp as it stops in front of you, drumming his fingers on the cardboard. 

Sensing your eagerness, Mark lifts the lid off of the box and the excitement on your face drops almost instantly, turning blank as you peek inside to see the miniature watermelon themed cake staring back at you. You raise your head at Mark who’s already grinning at you, tongue poking at his cheek as he opens up a drawer to retrieve two plastic forks, twiddling them between his fingers.

You deadpan, “Are you sure we’re not celebrating your birthday right now?”

“Shut up, you like watermelon just as much as I do” Mark scoffs, handing you one of the plastic forks and you take it out of his grasp with a smile. You go to take a piece but Mark makes a weird noise, causing you to freeze mid cut. “Wait—dude—jesus, let me take a photo first”

You roll your eyes but happily oblige as Mark fishes his phone out of his pocket and angles it towards you. You pose, pointing to the cake with a wide grin, almost blinded by the flash when Mark takes the picture and you immediately rub at your eyes, trying to get rid of the blotches with a few creative curse words that make Mark laugh.

He quickly takes this opportunity to slide beside you and holds his phone high to take a selfie of you both. You poke out your tongue, using your free hand to make bunny ears behind Mark’s head who grins and uses his own free hand to grip your cheeks and squeeze to force you into pulling a weird face. 

Before you have the chance to complain, you gasp in shock when you feel the coldness of the cake’s frosting touch your cheek and the shutter of the camera goes off when Mark takes another photo, capturing you mid chaos as you dig your fingers into the side of the cake to smush a piece against his cheek, grinning evilly as the green frosting covers his skin.

“Alright, I deserved that” Mark sighs with a light laugh, making sure his phone is tucked away and out of the icing zone. “Makes a good blackmail photo though, don’t you think?”

“If that goes anywhere, I will kill you”

“You already know that's going on my Instagram, baby~” Mark teases you and you scoff jokingly, shaking your head as you reach for the napkins that are laying on the side, trying your best to wipe away the frosting before it drops and stains your clothing. 

Mark manages to clean himself easily but notices you struggling, deciding to help you out as he picks up another napkin and takes a hold of your chin, facing you towards him as he gently taps at your cheek, careful not to rub too hard at your skin.

You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity and you grow silent, watching as he cleans you up. The concentrated look on his face causes your stomach to whirl and chest feel warm, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in on the area he needs to clean, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

“Mark…” You call out his name softly to grab his attention and he pauses, staring right at you. He seems to notice how close you both are too as he takes in the limited space between you both, slowly taking his hand away from your face but he stops himself with a quiet noise, bringing his hand back to finish his job.

“Happy birthday, dude” Mark whispers to you as he finally wipes the frosting off of your cheeks, smiling down at you with adoration swirling in his eyes.

Your breathing stops for a moment at the affectionate gaze, unsure of what to say or what to do with him looking at you the way he is. Your hands move up to take the birthday hat off of your head, dropping it to the side carelessly as you curl your arms around his shoulders, pushing up onto your tiptoes to embrace him.

Mark’s arms slither around your waist, holding you close to his chest as he hugs you back, burying his face in the crevice of your neck and exhaling deeply.

“I’m so thankful” You mutter, squeezing him tight as the emotions within you struggle to be contained. “Truly, Mark. I’m grateful too… Thank you for making this birthday special again”

“It’s not over yet, you know” You hear him mumble. You go to pull back, to ask him what more he could possibly give you to top everything else but he’s already bending his knees, arms falling down to lock around your thighs and throwing you over his shoulder with a huff, smacking his hand roughly against your ass as he carries your giggly self to the bedroom.

Friday nights will always be your favourite nights to let loose and party: dressing up in your prettiest outfit that makes you feel confident, decorating your body with the shiniest jewellery you own and drinking the most intoxicating drink you could find while mingling with your friends.

Talking with your girls face to face after a week of classes had unfailingly lifted your mood, catching up with all the gossip you missed or briefly discussed over the phone, adding your own two cents into a situation which they eagerly agree with a nod their heads, tapping their cups to yours before taking a sip.

“Speaking of unusual relationships—” Sakura, one of your dearest friends, speaks up as she turns to look at you with a grin. “—girl, how’s it going with you and Mark? Things turned weird yet?”

“Nope” You shake your head, buzzing happily. “We’re fine. The whole hooking up with your best friend culture isn’t as complicated as everyone makes it out to be. Everyone gets dramatic about that shit”

Sua lets out a heavy sigh, nursing her drink in her hand. “I don’t know how you do it… I couldn’t imagine hooking up with Yeonjun. I mean, he’s attractive, but we’ve seen and know too much about each other to get physical on an intimate level. Props to you”

Heejin looks at you. “Do you still fuck Jaemin?”

“On occasion” You admit. “But honestly, I’ve been so wrapped in assignments—”

“And Mark”

You give Sakura a smirk, “—that I haven’t really had time to call up Jaemin and ask to fuck. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’s been busy smoking and selling weed for extra cash”

“What about Mark? Is he still fucking around?”

You pause at that, lips pursing deep in thought before you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t asked recently”

Sua gestures over your shoulder, “Looks like you’re about to find out the answer”

You crane your neck to follow the direction she’s pointing in, noticing Mark standing near a back wall with a drink in hand, deep in conversation with Arin who’s smiling and nodding to each word he’s speaking to her. 

Feeling your eyes on him, Mark looks up to capture your gaze, raising his drink in greeting and you grin, lifting your own cup and watching as he resumes back in conversation. 

You take in his appearance with interest: a baggy white shirt paired with some loose fitted pants and doc martens you’re certain he stole from Donghyuck. A silver chain hangs from his neck and a cap sits backwards on the top of his head, you stifle a laugh at how much of a fuckboy he looks but you must admit, he looks good.

“Subtle with the lovey dovey eyes, sweetheart” Sakura teases, nudging your shoulder to bring your attention back to her and you laugh, tipping your head back to finish the contents of your drink. “He looks good though, so I don’t blame you”

“When was the last time you fucked Mark?” You aim your question towards Heejin who shrugs her shoulders.

“I don’t remember” She smacks her lips together. “Definitely more than two months, that’s for sure… No disrespect to you but god I miss his cock. How he walks around with that thing completely baffles me”

Sua's eyes widen. “Is Mark’s cock big?”

“Yes” You and Heejin answer instantly, causing you both to laugh and high five each other. You drone out the complaints Sua makes about wanting to fuck someone with a huge cock and how Yeonjun always recommends her people that are both shitty in bed and lack personality, too focused on looking around the room to find a clear path to get more drinks, dismissing yourself from the girls for a moment as you spot Jeno and Jaemin pouring vodka into each others cups.

You bound over to your boys, throwing your arms around their shoulders and startling them both with your presence, but Jaemin lazily smiles when he sees it's you and presses a chaste kiss to your temple as Jeno pats the back of your head in greeting, offering to fill your cup up which you happily give him.

“Where have you been?” Jaemin asks you, taking your hand in his and whirls you around, whistling lowkey as he takes in your dress. “You look pretty”

“Catching up with my girls because I spend way too much time with you guys” You explain, but cheesily grin at the compliment he gives you on your outfit and bow. Jeno hands you your drink back and you thank him, taking a quick sip as your eyes glance around the room. “Where’s the rest of the guys anyway?”

“Donghyuck’s trying to get laid and Renjun’s around here somewhere chatting up a girl from his classes” Jeno informs, gulping down his drink with ease. “Mark’s been talking with Arin for the past hour—sweet girl is trying to make her move”

“Why aren’t you trying to show off your charms tonight?”

Jeno stares at you suggestively, smirking behind the rim of his cup. “Why would I when I got you and Jaemin right here?”

Your tongue pokes at your cheek, struggling to fight the urge not to smile. “Not funny. It was a one time thing, Lee… You were only there because Jaemin felt guilty he couldn’t last long enough to make me cum”

“Still had you screaming on my dick though” Jeno teases, gently knocking his fingers against your cheeks as you laugh. “And don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone. Pretty sure if I tell Donghyuck I actually did get to fuck you before him, he’d end up losing his mind”

You ponder it for a moment, “It would be kind of funny though”

“What would be funny?”

“Donghyuck!” You squeal as he appears beside Jeno, staring at you all with a confused look but grins when you throw yourself in his arms to hug him tightly, swaying you both back and forth. “I thought you were trying to get laid?”

“I was” Donghyuck sighs, pulling away from the hug but keeping an arm wrapped around your middle. “But she had a boyfriend and he’s, like, six foot something and I didn’t feel like getting my ass handed back to me by slenderman himself”

You pout, pinching his cheek. “What a shame. The dry spell continues”

Donghyuck leans into your touch, batting his eyelashes prettily at you with a smirk. “You can change that for me if you want”

“In your dreams”

Donghyuck sighs jokingly, dropping his head low as his shoulders sag. “Guess I’ll keep on dreaming then. You sound even prettier when you’re moaning my name there—”

“What’s going on?”

The sound of Mark’s voice speaking up behind you causes you to whiz around quickly, beaming as your eyes meet his but it falters slightly when you notice the fake smile he’s sporting, wanting to turn the question around and ask him what’s going on. 

But you didn’t want to bring attention to the subject, knowing it’ll make Mark uncomfortable putting him on the spot despite him continuously being open with the others. It’s not something to speak publicly about if it’s serious.

You touch his arm and give him a comforting squeeze to which he seems to relax, using your grip on him to tug you into his side and for Donghyuck’s arm to slip from your waist.

“The usual. Donghyuck trying to get her into his bed” Jeno fills him in, fishing a strawberry flavoured vape out of his pocket to take a drag and Jaemin retches at the smell, wafting it away with his hand. “How’s Arin?”

“Fine” Mark quips, licking at his lips as he turns to you. “Do you want to get out of here? Just me and you”

Donghyuck immediately takes offence to that, “What about us? We all came here together, man!”

“I’m taking her home to fuck her, Hyuck” Mark deadpans, giving him an unamused look while your tummy swirls with excitement. “Do you want to watch?”

“Well—”

“I was kidding”

You’re in complete bliss with Mark hovering above you, your back arched, bare chest pressed to his as he nips and licks at your neck, his hips lazily grinding into yours, cock hitting deeper than he’s ever been.

The pace is slow, something that you’re not used to when it comes to Mark, but you don’t find the voice within yourself to complain, fingers winding through his hair with cries spilling from your lips, legs hooking over his waist.

He’s grunting in the crevice of your neck with each deep thrust, one hand caressing the side of your face while the other rests beside your head, stopping himself from laying his entire body weight on you.

You’re whining from the loss of contact when he moves his head away, missing the feeling of his teeth on your skin and looking up at him pleadingly but he’s frozen staring down at you, despite his hips thrusting automatically into you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty” You barely hear him mumble and your heart pounds in your chest at the compliment, body feeling a little more heated and warm.

“Mark—”

He cuts off your words by planting his lips on yours with the most sweetest and soft kiss, and you melt into the touch, fingers untangling from his hair to cup his cheeks in your palms, gasping through the kiss as Mark’s cock slowly pulls out of your pussy before pushing back in, causing electricity to shoot up your spine.

The band in your tummy tightens with each slow but powerful thrust he gives you, thighs quivering around his frame, unable to keep up with his kisses as your mouth falls open with short gasps and whines, white specs flickering in your vision as you feel yourself inching closer and closer over the edge.

“Cum” Mark whispers, breath fanning over your face. “Do it. Cum on my cock”

You wail as the band snaps, orgasm crashing down on you violently. Your body convulses, pussy squeezing around his cock, keeping him buried deep which has him moaning, his own hips stuttering as he cums. You feel him pulsing inside, painting your walls white as he fills you up.

Mark’s head slumps down on your shoulder as you try to catch your breath, cringing and wincing as you feel him slowly moves his hips back to pull his cock out of your sensitive pussy, your hand falling from his face to drop down to your centre, gathering his cum that pools out on your fingers.

“I’m sorry” Mark mumbles against your skin. “I’m sorry, I—shit, I should’ve asked if I could, you know—” Mark raises his hand to make a jerking off motion which causes you to snort. “—I got too overwhelmed. I’m sorry”

“It’s kinda cute that you’re apologising” You admit, gently pushing him off of your body to sit upright. “But you don’t need to apologise. This isn’t the first time you came in me, Mark”

“I know” Mark runs his fingers through his sweaty bangs. “I usually ask though”

“Mark. It’s fine” You reassure him, placing your palm on his bicep. “I’ll forgive you if you help clean me up though”

Mark smiles softly as he slips off of the bed, disappearing out of the room for a moment and returning with a wet towel. He sits between your legs as he gently cleans up the mess, gently dabbing around your sensitive areas and whispering apologies after apologies every time you hiss at the contact, thighs closing around his hand which he carefully pries open to resume his job.

You watch in silence as he cleans you up and you frown at the troubled look you see on his face, not used to seeing Mark being so closed up with his feelings and emotions. Mark hasn’t been open with you in a few weeks, he hasn’t come to you and asked for your reassurance or help. It makes you feel a little bit defeated.

Something was different, and you struggled to pinpoint what it was. 

The questions lay on the tip of your tongue, desperate to be asked and even more desperate to get the answers you’ve been craving. Your relationship with Mark has changed since the proposition you’ve made about sleeping together, but he was still your best friend.

“What’s going on?” You finally ask. Mark freezes, hand clutching the wet towel in his grasp tightly. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell when you’re being truthful or not—”

“What am I to you?” Mark questions and you're a little stunned at your question being answered with his own question. He takes his hand away as you blink at him, feeling confused. “Even with all, like, this going on… what am I to you?”

“You’re my best friend?” 

Mark seems to frown deeply at that, “So nothing has changed? At all? Even with us sleeping together? I’m still your best friend?”

“I—of course!” You’re baffled, assuming that with the way Mark is speaking about yours and his situation that he was worried that you’d have negative feelings towards him. You’re eager to reassure him, to let him know that everything is okay. “Mark, you’ll always be my best friend. We promised nothing would change. I’m keeping that promise”

Mark closes his eyes as his shoulders sink, “Dude, I—” He drops his head with a sigh. “I can’t do this anymore”

“Do what?” You ask quietly, bringing your knees up to your chest.

“This” He gestures between the two of you. “I just—I can’t. Not anymore. I can’t continue sleeping with you”

“Oh” You swallow thickly, a little surprised. “Why?”

“Things have changed” His voice is quieter now and it makes your heart crumble at the tone. Does he hate you? “I can’t continue whatever this is and be your best friend. It has to stop, it—” Mark sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “It can’t go on, I’m sorry”

“It’s okay” You mumble as your chin rests on your knees, hugging your legs closer to your chest to cover your modesty. You refuse to look at him now, finding interest in the sheets below you both as your throat tightens at the thought of him hating you so much that he can’t do anything with you no more. “I’m sorry too, by the way. I don’t know what I did you make you hate me, but I—”

“Wait, what?”

“—I’m just sorry. Especially if I came across too strong and for putting you in such a position” You’re babbling your words now, unable to control yourself due to the overwhelmed feeling that washes over you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry”

“Wait. I don’t—”

“Let’s just not tell the others, okay?” You raise your head to meet his eyes this time. He’s looking straight at you, confusion and disbelief swimming in his irises but you ignore it, chewing the inner skin of your cheek. “Mostly Renjun. I don’t really want to hear him laugh in our faces and give us the whole ‘I told you so’ speech he threatened us with at the start”

Mark calls out your name softly and reaches out to touch you but you’re already climbing off of the bed, looking for your underwear and dress that was thrown across the room due to prior activities.

You’re too embarrassed to continue the conversation, to ask him what exactly you did to make him grow to hate you. Truthfully, you didn’t really want to dwell on it too much, the pain of losing someone like Mark already making your heart ache.

You just wanted to go home—to be in the comfort of your own bed and curse yourself out, and probably cry to the point you might forget everything that just happened. You are feeling a little teary, but you wouldn’t dare to cry in front of Mark right now.

“I’ll, uh, see you around” You mutter, shoving the heels onto your feet, casting one final look his way. “I’m sorry”

It's been almost two weeks since your last encounter with Mark.

You shouldn’t be avoiding him like you are. It’s childish. But you can’t force yourself to face someone who used to be your best friend and now hates you. 

Maybe you should’ve waited a few more minutes, to give him time to explain the entire situation and how he was feeling but you were selfish, you didn’t want to hear him explain in detail what you had done to make him change his feelings towards you.

You miss him. Of course you miss him. He’s been your best friend for years—your other half, more like. There was no you without Mark and vice versa. You weren’t exactly sure on how you could continue functioning with Mark by your side, as dramatic as it sounds, but you’ve always been dramatic.

The other boys have been blowing up your phone—courtesy of you ignoring them too, not wanting to hear Renjun rub it in your face on how the ‘friends with benefits bullshit’ you had with Mark did actually go to shit. And you didn’t want to hear the others continuously question what had happened and what had changed.

Even your roommate, someone who keeps herself out of your business and hardly ever bothers you, had cornered you one morning at breakfast, asking why you looked so glum and why the ‘shirtless Canadian fuckboy’ wasn’t joining you both. 

You’re not the type to let anyone know your worries, but you’re surprised when you find yourself explaining to your roomie what happened.

She gave you a deadpanned look, calling you stupid for not staying behind and listening despite you voicing that you couldn’t bear to listen to why his feelings had suddenly turned negative towards you. Your face twisted and turned, offended at her harsh words but you allowed yourself to let her talk and not jump in even though you desperately wanted to.

“You’re jumped to your own conclusion” She told you when she was clearly up the dishes. “You know, for two close best friends who talk to each other every second of the day, you sure have some serious miscommunication issues”

So that’s what leads you to now: you sitting alone in the living room with your phone in hand, staring down at yours and Mark’s chat room with your thumb between your teeth, biting down on the skin anxiously as you try to figure out how to start a conversation, to let him know you will listen.

you: i think we need to talk.

mark: i’m almost at ur house anyway i had to go get something

you: ???? u coming over

mark: yeah mark: i was going to make u listen to me mark: its important dude.

You snort at his last message, sending a quick thumbs up emoji before throwing your phone to the side, awaiting his arrival. You catch your leg nervously bobbing in the corner of your vision and your brows furrow, placing your hand down on your knee and squeezing tight. As if that will stop you from feeling nervous.

You’re about to hear the reason why Mark’s feelings had changed for you so negatively, nothing can prepare you for it. Bite the bullet. Take it like a champ. 

The rapid knock on the door rips you out of your thoughts, slowly turning your head with a confused look plastered across your face. Was that Mark? Mark never knocks—he freely walks in like it’s his own place usually, always makes himself at home.

You push yourself up from the sofa and make your way towards the door, peeping through the hole to see Mark’s form, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip with his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth nervously. You grow even more confused and concerned, unlocking the door and pulling it open to face him fully.

“Why did you kno—”

“Hate you?!” He cuts you off with a shout, immediately startling you with his tone. His eyes are wide as he stares at you, full of disbelief. “Hate you, I—jesus christ—how could I hate you?! Dude, I’d never hate you… god, you’re so frustrating sometimes”

Your lips quirk upwards, “Nice to see you too”

“I don’t hate you, at all… When I said to you that things have changed, I didn’t mean anything bad by it… it’s actually quite the opposite…” Mark trails off and before you can get the chance to ask him to explain what he means, your breath hitches at the back of your throat as he pulls his hands from behind his back: a bag of jellies in one and a handful of ripped up flowers in the other. Your heart thumps rapidly. “I’m going to tell you something and I just—I need you to listen”

You barely whisper, “Okay”

“Being in this friends with benefits relationship with you was not as easy as I thought it was going to be” Mark tells you, his honesty making you pull your attention away from the things in his hands to his eyes. “We promised each other that we’re not going to involve any of that official or exclusive title bullshit to make it complicated for us… yet here I am standing in front of you right now with the same jellies and flowers  in my hand from when we first met about to confess my fucking feelings to you, I’m so—”

“You’re rambling” You cut him off quietly, a smile creeping onto your lips.

“Right, yeah, of course I am” Mark laughs with a shake of his head, awkwardly scratching his neck before he straightens out, keeping his eyes on yours. “I fell for you. I think I sort of realised it on your birthday but I didn’t want to say anything just in case I wasn’t really thinking straight… but when we were at that party and I saw the guys flirting with you, I realised how much I actually do like you and that it wasn’t my dick talking”

You snort as you repeat, “Dick talking”

“Shut up” He smiles at you, his own laugh fleeting past his lips. “I’m in love with you, dude. And I totally get it if you want to reject me because of how weirdly this turned out but, uh, I would like to continue seeing you if I could be your... boyfriend”

You’re too busy repeating his confession in your head to notice that Mark is waiting for an answer, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he bites down nervously, visibly shaking for excitement or the fact that he just confessed his entire feelings—you weren’t sure.

The silence from you kills Mark, and his face drops when you step forward to quietly take the flowers and the jellies out of his hand and step back inside the house. His shoulders slump in defeat, taking your non verbal response as a rejection to his proposal  of him being your boyfriend and he goes to turn around, to get the fuck off of your doorstep and hope that the intense embarrassment that he feels coursing through his veins is enough to make him disappear quickly.

But he freezes mid escape when he hears the rustling of you ripping open the pack of jellies, turning his head to see you looking at him with the most gentlest smile. He watches, chest erupting with warmth as you reach your arm out, angling the treat in his direction and a grin spreads across his face, unable to control the giggles that leave him. 

You’re giving him a jelly, you’re giving him a relationship.