#markbum fic

Before you know it, you’re at the back. At the back during your song. The one Jaebum wrote for you and you’re struggling not to feel upset about that fact. Struggling to hang onto the bubble of excitement you felt when the music started. It’s hard though, when Jaebum is still singing to the crowd as though nothing happened. Is still singing to the idea of you, not to you.

This song is a hit. A smash, actually. All around you the club is out of control. This is the song that could get them famous. But do you want that?

Even having to ask yourself that hurts.

It’s been three weeks since Jaebum’s concert. Three weeks since the blur of meetings and discussions about whether or not Jaebum and his band have ‘potential.’ The whole thing ended with James saying he would call as soon as he heard.

Apparently James now submits a review to his higher-ups. Who submit a review to their higher-ups. Somewhere above that lies the final say in whether or not On the Shore gets signed. When Jaebum asked how long this process takes, James couldn’t say.

“Hard to tell,” he said, packing up his briefcase. “Sometimes a week – sometimes months. Once time I had a band on the ropes for a whole year before someone at corporate finally decided to let them in.”

On the ropes. That’s what agents call their waiting bands. They have signed bands, potential bands and bands who are on the ropes. Jaebum’s band is currently one of these. As more and more days tick by, you know Jaebum is internally freaking out. Every word he says is on edge and you find yourself tiptoeing more than usual. Not that this bothers you – much.

It’s just that with Jaebum so wrapped up in his own problems – there’s no one to talk to about yours.

Mark slides into the seat next to you, glancing sideways as the bell rings. “Hey.” He nods. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” you ask, trying not to smile. “Not much, homie.”

“Oh, god.” Mark winces. “Never say that again.”

“It’s my new thing!” you protest, tapping your pencil on your desk. This is an inside joke with you two now – you doing mundane things and calling them special to get a rise from Mark.

Mark rolls his eyes. “You know you’re completely misusing my concept.”

“Poor Mark,” you sigh. “Lost in a sea of angst. Continually made fun of by the evil Y/N.”

Mark starts to laugh as Mr. David enters the room. “Settle down, settle down,” the teacher says, turning towards the board.

Raising your eyebrows, you grin at Mark. “He means you, giggle nuts. No one else is speaking.”

“Giggle nuts.” Mark starts to laugh even harder.

Mr. David turns with a frown, effectively sobering you both. Mark straightens in his seat, ducking his head into his notebook. He’s still smiling though, as are you reading through the lines of chalk on the whiteboard. It looks like today’s lesson is on solar systems. The suns of solar systems, to be exact.

When the bell rings at exactly 9:00 am, Mr. Davis clears his throat. “Good morning class,” he drones, not waiting for an answer. “Today’s lesson is about the sun. Last class we breached the topic of galaxies – groups of celestial bodies associated with natural law and bound by gravity. This class we’ll delve deeper.”

Flipping to a new page in your notebook, you smooth out the corners. Your previous page is filled with drawings of star clusters. General rules and theory on galaxy formation as well as its degeneration. Concentrating on Mr. Davis’ words, you sketch today’s date at the top of the page.

“Most planetary systems are single star systems,” he lectures. “Meaning there is only one sun. All non-stellar objects rotate around this, drawn in by the gravitational pull. This is not the case in all systems.” Continuing on, Mr. David finds a blank space on the board. “There also exist multiple and binary star systems.”

Raising his hand, Mark waits until Mr. Davis notices. “What’s a binary star system?”

“Good question.” Nodding, Mr. Davis scribbles Mark’s comment down on the board. “A binary star system is one whose systems contains two suns orbiting a common center of mass. These systems balance each other in careful harmony, continuously influencing as they rotate.”

Your hand pauses halfway through your drawing. On the left-hand side of your page lies the singular star system. One sun with its planets drawn orbiting, accepting a singular star’s light. On the other side is a binary system. Two stars circling one another, coexisting together. Both stars are strong, powerful – equal in their light.

You can’t help but think the singular system is Jaebum. Bright, gravitational, drawing everyone into his orbit. In that system, you’re a planet. Maybe the closest planet, but circling him regardless. Allowing him to pull you onward, always thinking you’re surviving while secretly knowing you’re following.

The thought makes you dizzy and you exhale through your nose to steady yourself. Do you really see your relationship with Jaebum that way? No, of course you don’t. He might be a strong presence, sure – but so are you. You’re intelligent, confident and creative. What does it matter if he’s currently successful and you are not? Jaebum is the exception in that regard.

So is the star, though. You fall quiet for the rest of the class, barely even glancing from your notebooks. When the bell rings for second period, you gather your books tightly to your chest.

“Y/N?”

Mark is staring at you. Has been for several minutes, actually. “Sorry, what?” you blink, shaking your head.

Mark frowns. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, playing absentmindedly with your pencil case. “Everything is fine.”

Stepping before you, Mark effectively stops your walk. “Liar,” he says, eyes glinting with humor. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Have you filled out all your college applications?” you ask, avoiding eye contact.

Mark’s forehead wrinkles. “Some. Why?”

“What major did you list?”

“Biology.”

This surprises you. “Really?”

Mark nods, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah. After everything that happened to me, I want to do something in medicine. I’m not sure if I want to do research or pre-med yet, though.”

Rather than make you feel better, this only serves to increase your nausea. “Right. Good,” you say, a laugh escaping. “Everyone seems to know exactly what they’re doing except for me.”

Mark gives you a curious look. “That’s not true. You want to be a writer.”

“Ah, yes. How practical,” you laugh. You feel breathless, unable to regain control over yourself. “I need to find a real job.”

“A real job?” Mark folds his arms over his chest. “Writing is a real career.”

Staring past, you start to walk again. “I know,” you sigh, voice hesitant. “I know that if you’re successful writing can be a career. But if you’re not…” Trailing into silence, you allow your lack of words to speak for you.

Mark’s pace is even, footsteps lost in the deafening shouts in the corridor.

“Look,” you say, turning to face him. “I’m not being self-deprecating or searching for compliments. I’m just saying a lot of people are talented. There are a lot of good writers and there’s only a small chance I’ll succeed, even with talent.”

Rather than object, Mark falls silent. “That’s true,” he admits.

“So you agree?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes,” Mark nods. “But I don’t think that’s a good enough reason not to try.”

His words give you pause and somewhere inside, a voice you’ve been shoving aside lately grows slightly louder. “No?”

“No.” Mark looks thoughtful. “Put it this way. If you try, you have two options: either you fail or you succeed. If you don’t try, there’s only one: you fail.”

Considering this, your heart beats strangely. A new kind of courage enters you and for the first time in a long time, you find yourself wanting to try. Wanting to fight, wanting to fly - or wanting to fall trying.

Mark grins at your expression. “There it is.”

“Fine,” you exhale, turning towards your classroom. “I’m doing it. I’ll apply to college as an English major.”

Mark lets out a whooping noise. “Thank god! I was scared I’d have to do a covert ops mission. Sneak into your house, switch out your application – something like that.”

Shaking your head, you shove him away as you enter your classroom. Sliding into your seat as your front pocket vibrates. The teacher is still busy setting up for lecture, so you chance a glance at your screen. 

Hey, babe <3 excited for tonight?

Tonight. Tonight; your and Jaebum’s four year anniversary. He’s had something special planned for months now – dropping hints while unable to hide his grin. You quickly type back.

Tell me what we’re doinggggg

The bell rings then, so you shove your phone into your pocket. Jaebum won’t answer before lunch anyways, which is the next time you’ll see him. The rest of the morning flies by like this, filled with people and notes. At lunchtime Jaebum still refuses to tell you where you’re going. He grins each time you ask, folding his arms over his chest. Today he’s pushed his hair back, which he only does when you’re going somewhere nice. 

“How nice is nice, though?” you whine, poking him. “Should I wear a floor-length dress? Would a high schooler even be allowed into a place fancy enough to wear a floor-length dress?”

Jaebum just grins. “It’s not that fancy. Just wear something you like.”

“I like sweatpants. Is that good?”

Jaebum shrugs. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He’s being stupid but he says it with such sincerity that you groan and lean into him. Allow his arm to wrap around your waist and pull you close. “Fine,” you mutter, kissing his cheek. “I’ll dress nicely.”

Hours later, you’re regretting this edict. 

Your mouth is pursed, hands on your hips while you stare into the mirror. Pushing your hair back with both hands to see what it would look like off your neck. You let it drop - down, definitely down. Grabbing your purse from your table, you hurry downstairs.

Jaebum said he would be here at 7:00 pm and its 6:58 pm now. He won’t be there a second before 7:00 though, he’s just like that. So now you sink into your kitchen chair, watching your mom work on her laptop.

“Happy anniversary.” She glances up from her work. “What has it been now, four years?”

Nodding, you find yourself happy she remembered. “Four years exactly.”

Your mom sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Growing up so fast,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Your dad would’ve loved to see this.”

“Would he have?” You laugh quietly. “I seem to remember him threatening Jaebum every time he came over.”

“Yeah,” Robbie nods, entering. “It’s why I’ve taken up the mantle. Fight Jaebum always.”

Your mom laughs at this, leaning back in her chair. “Your father loved Jaebum,” she counters. “Or rather – he loved how much he loved you. It was always terrifying how much you loved Jaebum.”

This is the first your mom has ever spoken of this and you find yourself wanting to hear more. “What?” you ask. “Why?” From the corner of your eye, you see headlights swing into your driveway.

“Well.” Your mom shrugs. “Losing the people you love hurts, even if it’s losing them by choice.”

You blink at her words. Even if it’s by choice.

It’s been two years since your dad passed away. It’s just now getting to the part where it doesn’t hurt as much to talk about him. But saying that it doesn’t hurt as much is like saying you’re only hit by one lightning bolt, not five. One may hurt less than five, but even one is enough to kill you.

You usually think of your dad in terms of your own emotions. Never really in the light of your mother. She lost her husband though – her partner, life, love. Lost the man she thought she’d be spending the rest of her years with, not just his. This makes you think of Jaebum and when you do, your heart clenches. Losing someone you love hurts.

Leaning over, you give your mom a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you,” you say, drawing back. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t ask what your gratitude is for. Your mom knows there are things your family do that go without saying. That’s one thing about loss – it either tears you apart or makes you stronger. The three of you are stronger now than you were before. Even Robbie has had to grow overnight.

Like now. He stands before you, arms folded in the doorway. Frowning as you walk past. “Be home by eleven,” he scolds.

From behind him, your mom laughs. “Midnight,” she corrects.

You wave at both when you leave, blowing Robbie a big, exaggerated kiss. Jaebum sits in his car, immersed in some game on his phone when you slide into the passenger seat. “Hi,” you greet him, leaning over.

Jaebum kisses you, lingering for just a second before pulling away. “Happy anniversary,” he grins, putting the car in reverse. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go … to the park?” you ask, settling back in his seat. “To the circus? To an airplane show?”

“No, yes and no.”

“We’re going to the circus?”

Jaebum looks over. “You’re so crazy already, why not give in completely?”

He’s in a good mood tonight and you find yourself giggling, sliding lower in your seat as you turn to face him. Jaebum’s hand finds yours on the console, pulling your fingers into his lap. He lowers the windows, allowing the early breeze to caress your cheeks. Curling into your own seat, you watch him. Watch the sun play across his face.

“What?” Jaebum asks, glancing sideways.

“Nothing,” you smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The drive is quiet after that, silent except for the music on the car’s speakers. Jaebum turns the volume up, sliding his fingers over yours and humming in time to the music. Before long he pulls into a parking lot, coming to a stop beside a restaurant.

A restaurant you recognize. “Really?” you ask, starting to laugh.

Jaebum nods, eyes sparkling. “This time we’re eating inside.”

You laugh unbuckling your seat belt. This restaurant is known for its food and amazing views and on your fifth date, Jaebum tried to take you here. After just one glance at the menu though, you realized there was no way in hell you could afford this. The two of you ended up out on the cliffs, just sitting and talking.

That day was also the first time Jaebum kissed you.

Now though, Jaebum takes your hand in his, pulling you forward. You’re glad you decided to wear a dress when you enter the lobby, realizing this place is even fancier than you remembered. Jaebum blends right in, completely at home in a button-down and slacks, blazer thrown over top.

“Im,” Jaebum says, walking up to the hostess. “Reservation for two.”

The hostess nods thumbing through her booklet. “Here – Im.” Grabbing two menus, she smiles back at you. “Follow me.”

Raising both eyebrows, Jaebum gestures for you first. At the table, Jaebum pulls out your chair, holding it while you sit. Sitting across the table, he watches the waiter fill your glasses with water. When the waiter leaves you peruse the menu, flipping open to the first page. Smiling gently when you travel back to that fifth date.

“You’re smiling.” Jaebum sounds suspicious. “Why are you smiling?” 

You set your menu down. “I was thinking about the first time we visited.”

Lowering his head, Jaebum hangs a few centimeters from the table. “Will you never let me live that down?” he groans.

Starting to laugh, you reach over. Lifting his chin with your finger. “I was thinking about the end of the day,” you correct.

Jaebum’s frown lifts in a smile. “Oh.”

After leaving the restaurant that day, the two of you hiked over the tops of the cliffs. You talked about a lot that night – both about everything and nothing at all. Whatever thoughts popped into your mind. That was the thing you liked most about Jaebum. It was so easy to be with him, like you could say anything and he wouldn’t judge you for it.

Jaebum was a great listener. He took everything you said with a grain of salt, listening with a small tilt to his head. You noticed that that day on the cliffs. It was the first time you ever felt close to Jaebum - the two of you sitting close enough to feel but not touch.

You kept glancing at one another. Looking sideways until one of your eyes met the other’s. His gaze was enticing, entrapping in a way you couldn’t get out of. It’s often said that the last hour before sunset is called the golden hour. Called so because the light at this time of day is so soft, muted with diffused rays of the sun. People are most flattering during the golden hour.

The way Jaebum stared at you was as though he saw you clearly for the first time. As rays of sun slipped from his cheeks, they illuminating hair half-ruffled by the wind. When Jaebum leaned in, you hardly knew what he was doing.

When his lips met yours, you understood.

It was your first kiss. The first time you’d even considered kissing someone. As Jaebum kissed you, his lips pressed firmly to yours, you wondered if Jaebum might also be the last.

Now he sits across the table from you, smiling in the same way he did that night. You find yourself ashamed for the emotions which have churned your stomach since his band’s last performance. Ashamed of the fear you felt. The fear of him pulling away. Of him embarking on a new part of life which you can’t follow. 

Or won’t. Because now you’re realizing that although you’ve applied to college, Jaebum hasn’t. He keeps holding this in his back pocket, patiently waiting for the call from James Marolin. His future is at fork in the road, while yours is at an arrow.

It’s just as you’re thinking this Jaebum’s phone rings. Wincing, he shoves his hand deep in his pocket. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I thought I turned it off – let me just check if it’s my mom, she –"

He stops talking. At the look on his face, you feel yourself sinking. Stomach churning, thoughts scrambling because you know exactly who is calling him.

“Hello?” Jaebum answers, switching his phone to his other ear. “Mr. Marolin?”

You can’t hear the other side of his conversation. Can’t hear what the other man is saying but you watch Jaebum’s eyes widen. Watch his mouth drops and no words come. Instead he just nods, suddenly recalling that he’s on the phone and can’t be seen. “Yes,” he blurts, continuing to nod. “Yes. This is amazing news – thank you so, so much! We won’t let you down.”

Jaebum hangs up. He doesn’t speak at first, just staring at the phone in his hand. Reaching across the table, you touch his arm. “Jaebum?”

His gaze snaps to yours and suddenly – brilliantly – he smiles. “Y/N,” he gasps. “Y/N, They want us to sign. They want us to sign and record an album. An album,” he laughs, full of disbelief.

“That’s amazing,” you say, struggling to smile. “Congratulations!”

It is amazing. It’s amazing and wonderful and perfect. Jaebum’s eyes find yours when he jumps up, fumbling across the table to grab your face. His lips press quickly to yours and you start to laugh. “Wow,” you say, grinning when he sits back down. “I guess now there’s two things to celebrate tonight, huh?”

“Oh.” Jaebum freezes. Glances at his phone. “I just – ah, shit.”

The knot in your stomach tightens. “What? What is it?”

Jaebum looks away, unable to meet your gaze. “I was just thinking… It would be nice to tell the guys in person.”

It’s a reasonable request. You know this, know you’re stupid for wishing it otherwise. Of course Jaebum would want to tell them himself. Of course he would want to see their faces at the news. Of course, of course, of course. 

Your gaze drops to your lap.

“Y/N?” Jaebum asks.

Exhaling softly, you look up. “You should go.”

Jaebum doesn’t move. “Are you sure?” he asks, watching you carefully. “This is our night, Y/N. It’s our night and if you want me to stay, the news can wait until tomorrow morning.”

If you want me to stay. These words echo in your mind, making you feel guilty for wanting this. You do want Jaebum to stay. You want Jaebum to be yours, want him beside you because right now every step he takes seems further and further away from you.

Lifting your gaze, you force a smile. “Of course,” you say, though your voice sounds robotic, unsure. “You should go. Our night is any night – tonight is about the band.”

Jaebum smiles. “Thank you,” he says, jumping up. Kissing you briefly before helping you upwards. “Let’s go,” he grins, lacing your fingers with his.

You’re practically pulled from the restaurant, Jaebum stops quickly at the hostess to mumble an apology. Then you’re outside, in his car. Speeding down the highway, barely able to hold yourself together. You think you respond to everything – you must, because Jaebum doesn’t seem to realize something is wrong.

Once you’re dropped off in front of your house, you wrap your arms around your waist. You don’t want to go inside, not yet. You’re afraid that if you see your mom and hear her questions, you might cry. Tears are already threatening to spill over onto your cheeks.

You don’t want to cry and so you walk over to the tree in your front yard. Folding your legs beneath you to lean against the rough bark. You’re not sure when you began to feel like you couldn’t tell Jaebum things. It used to be you told him too much. Told him everything, no matter how difficult or sad.

Not anymore.

Sighing, you look down at your phone in your hand. There’s a small kernel of anger growing larger by the second. Yes, you should have told Jaebum this tonight was important to you. Should have said you wanted to celebrate his most recent success together.

But should you have had to tell him?

Without stopping to think about what you’re doing, you unlock your phone.

Hey.

It only takes a few minutes before Mark texts back.

Hey?

He sounds confused and you don’t blame him. The two of you rarely text on weekends.

What are you doing tomorrow? Something crazy?

Maybe. Why? Want to join?

After staring at your phone for a long second, you lower your fingers. Fighting every natural instinct in your body to respond.

Yes.