3. Fast Fall

As much as Mark had stopped loathing going to university, he still loved the time he spent in the workshop even more. He adored everything about it-- the smell of wood, the rows of tools hanging on the walls, the silence in which he and his father worked, both communicating separately with their hands as they shaped their instruments together. He'd spent so much of his childhood watching his father at work and little by little picking up on the exact way he measured and weighed every part to form the united whole that the workshop had easily become his favorite place to be at home. When he was old enough, his father directly began tutoring him, showing him the subtle differences between each of his tools and how they each played a part in shaping the wood and forming it into something with a voice of its own.

It was an odd habit of musicians, but Mark saw the instruments he had made as well as his grand piano at home as having personalities of their own. He could draw out its different emotions by plinking the keys, true, but they were only yielded through a careful understanding of the piano's shape and precise vibrations. He liked to think that any other pianist couldn't just sit down at his instrument up and perform on it as capably as he could, even if they were more talented.

That weekend, Mark and his father were sequestered in the workshop finishing up an order they were filling while listening to classical music on the radio. They were as quiet as ever; with Mark's hands occupied, he could hardly start up a conversation, and his father could communicate a lot in a few words and preferred to play his little jokes when Mark had his hands free to yell at him afterwards. Every so often, Mark would pause and gesture for a tool he wanted or his father would stop and comment on his work, but other than that, the only sounds were the scraping of their tools and relentless violins playing away on the radio.

Mark had just stopped to take a break when the door to the shed slipped open. His mother was standing there with a pitcher of lemonade in her hands, and, inexplicably, Park Jinyoung standing at her side. Jinyoung waved pleasantly. Mark simply blinked up at him.

“Mark, dear, you have a visitor,” his mother said brightly. “Are you busy...?”

“We were just finishing up,” Mark's father said, rising from his seat. “Come on in.”

Jinyoung stepped in tentatively, his mouth falling open as he admired the stripped violin bodies hanging on their racks and the work-in-progress viola Mark had only just set aside. You made this?, Jinyoung signed. Mark nodded, feeling somewhat sheepish. People outside the industry tended to treat him like some kind of miracle worker for his creations when they were like any other product with their development process and set of guidelines. He was only doing something other craftsmen could do, but still he couldn't help feeling a little bit proud of himself all the same.

Why are you here?, Mark signed as his mother set up cups on their cleared workbench to pour lemonade into.

“Oh, you know that big open air pavilion in the park to the south? They're setting up for a free concert for this evening, and I was wondering if you wanted to go? They'll be playing some of my favorite Tchaikovsky pieces, and since you're in orchestra, I thought you might want to come, too.”

Mark could practically see his parents' ears perking up. “Doesn't that sound nice, Mark?” his mother said, passing them both glasses of lemonade. “We don't have anything going on this evening, so why not go?”

In truth, Mark didn't need much convincing. But still, he was a bit bewildered by Jinyoung showing up in the first place. He didn't think he'd even given him the address to his house-- though that was easy enough to find, given that Jinyoung already knew about his family's instrument business-- and he hadn't really prepared himself for his parents meeting Jinyoung so soon, though they did already know of him from pressing Mark about his new friends. Still, his parents were on their best behavior, and Jinyoung did seem to be enjoying himself simply looking around their workshop. Like so many things, it wasn't as bad as he had made it out to be in his mind, and he would be lying if he said that it didn't make him happy that Jinyoung had thought of him first when he'd heard about the concert.

Okay, I'll go, he signed, smiling at Jinyoung's happy smile. But I'll need to get cleaned up and changed first.

“Great!” Jinyoung said. “What was that last bit?”

“He'd like to get dressed into something nicer before going,” his mother explained. “While you wait, you're more than welcome to come into the house. It's nice and air conditioned, compared to out here.”

“If you don't mind the intrusion.”

“No friend of our son's is an intrusion to us.” The four of them stepped outside the workshop and made their way to the main house. It was nowhere near as distinct as where Jinyoung lived, but if anything, it stood out for being pristine.  The living room was also a favorite of Mark's, since that's where their instruments were-- his grand piano, most of all, which was his pride and joy.

“You're all musicians?” Jinyoung asked.

“I met my husband at a similar university to where Mark is right now, except an American one,” Mark's mother said, smiling fondly. “Our son seemed bound to inherit it, so we weren't terribly surprised when he did.”

Mark tugged on Jinyoung's shirt and gestured him to come with him upstairs. Mark's room was also a bit of a shrine to music-- his bookshelf was filled with sheet music books, and every other surface buried in CDs.

He dug around his dresser for a nice button down shirt and pulled off the sweaty t-shirt he'd been wearing. Jinyoung averted his eyes quickly before-- presumably-- remembering they were both guys and turning back. Still, Mark pulled the fresh shirt on as quickly as he could, feeling a little bit anxious. He thought he had a nice body, or at least hoped he did, but he couldn't help but wonder if his paled in comparison to Jinyoung's other friends, especially Jackson.

“It's a nice room,” Jinyoung said absently. “You like to surround yourself with the things you like, I see.”

Mark grabbed his bag and hooked it over his shoulder. Ready to go?, he asked.

Jinyoung nodded. “I brought some lunch boxes for us if we get hungry,” he said, patting his own backpack. “I'm not a good cook and you could probably do it better than me, but I didn't want to impose on you even more since I was already visiting without your permission.”

It's no trouble.

“And you're being very agreeable today.”

Working puts me in a good mood.

“I'm in a good mood, too. You haven't even used your phone once today, and I've understood almost everything you've said.”

About that... Mark made a face. I don't have my phone.

“You don't have your phone?”

I broke the screen, so it's being fixed.

Jinyoung stared at Mark's hands, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Well, you broke it. I got that much. You'll be fine without it?”

You're the one I'm worried about.

“Right... my comprehension is still basic at best.” He frowned. “But still... I'd like to go with you, so I'll just make that extra effort to communicate more clearly. Will that be fine?”

Mark couldn't imagine on what planet having someone go the extra mile on his behalf wouldn't be fine. Jinyoung probably didn't know how much a small gesture like that meant to him, and Mark hardly had the words to explain, so he simply nodded. Of course it will be fine.

0o0

The grassy lawn in front of the pavilion was fairly full by time they arrived, but Jinyoung managed to find them an open section to camp out on where they had a fairly good view of the stage. He handed one of his lunch boxes to Mark, and they both dug into the romaine salad inside. Jinyoung touted himself as a bad cook, but he hadn't managed to botch something so simple, and it actually turned out to be pretty tasty.

“So I'm sure you know everything they're playing,” Jinyoung said, flipping through the program. The first piece was a violin concerto in D, one of the his father's favorites, and then some excerpts from the Nutcracker and Swan Lake. Jinyoung pointed out one of his own favorites in the program-- Aveu Passionné from the Voyevoda symphony-- with which Mark was only vaguely familar.

I don't really know French, but that word is passion, right? What is this one?, he asked, pointing to 'aveu.'

"Confession" Jinyoung answered. "Tchaikovsky hated it so much at first he tried to destroy it, I heard. That's what my mother used to say. It was her favorite, that's why I remember it so well." Jinyoung's expression turned solemn. He didn't talk about his parents much, and Mark could tell from his expression that the grief was still fresh.

While Jinyoung flipped more through the program, Mark felt something like a small pebble hitting his shoulder. He turned around to see Youngjae sitting several rows behind them, waving frantically at Jinyoung. Is that him? Is that him?

Mark rolled his eyes, but nodded. Want to come up and be introduced?

And intrude on your date? Youngjae grinned wickedly. So he's really not into you?

He knows I'm a pianist and probably into this kind of thing.

And he clearly likes spending time with you. I'm expecting a full report about how this goes when you get your phone back. And if you get laid, we're meeting in person to talk about it.

Choi Youngjae, for the last time--!!

Jinyoung looked up and glanced over at him, most likely alerted by his frantic hand movements “What is it?”

Ah... nothing. He gave Youngjae one last glare before turning to face the front. Looks like they're setting up.

Jinyoung's eyes followed his hands, but from the confused look on his face, Mark was fairly certain he wasn't understanding everything he was saying. It didn't really bother Mark that his unimportant small talk wasn't being picked up on, but Jinyoung didn't look too happy, as if it was unforgivable shortcoming on his part that anything Mark was saying was going unheard. Mark sighed and grabbed Jinyoung's hand. Using the tip of his finger, he began drawing characters onto Jinyoung's palm. It was a long process, but eventually he spelled out "It's okay if you don't understand everything. It's enough that you're trying," Jinyoung quietly repeating each syllable as he drew it. Every once in awhile, his eyes would dart towards Mark's in confusion, but somehow he understood all of the quickly drawn and invisible characters. Mark couldn't help but notice how warm his hands were, though the simple act of trailing a finger against them rose goosebumps on his his arms.

“Is it enough?" Jinyoung wondered, his eyes following Mark's fingers as they finally withdrew from his skin.

Yes.

“Well, I'd still like to be able to understand everything. I always think I've made so much progress, but that's because you were giving me advantage this whole time by talking to me with your phone. I swear, I really will get better at the actual speaking part.”

It's difficult to learn. Just take your time.

The orchestra began tuning their instruments, and the two of them turned their attention to the pavilion. Mark saw a few people among the musicians he recognized, which was a given since he and his family were close to the local music scene, and he felt a moment of regret that he hadn't immediately tried to make it into a professional orchestra rather than attending university. Still, there were some positives. One of them, he couldn't help but think, was sitting next to him right now.

The starting piece, the violin concerto, was a beautiful rendition, and Mark closed his eyes and let the familiar notes sink into him. The violin soloist put so much passion into her performance that it brought Mark back to his younger days of listening to his mother play the exact same piece, in awe of a talent he thought he'd never be able to reach. Though he'd chosen to play the piano because the instrument spoke the most to him as an artist, he'd also shied away from the violin because he thought he'd never be better than his mother at capturing its emotions. He wanted his own voice, and his mother encouraged that from the very beginning.

Jinyoung seemed much more familiar with the Swan Lake and Nutcracker pieces, naturally, and Mark could even see his feet itching to do some of the steps to the Russian Dance, which made him smile. But still, the highlight of the set in Jinyoung's eyes still seemed to be Aveu Passionné. The violist was excellent, but Jinyoung seemed more enrptured by the music itself, the tense passion woven into every note and the way the voice of the instrument simply ached for release. Mark watched as Jinyoung's breath hitched when the performer drew out the melody, pulling on every melancholy, longing feeling and carving it into his heart with its delivery. The beauty of it-- both Jinyoung and the piece-- almost made Mark lose his own breath, but the moment was over all too soon, and he was left sitting there with the echoes of it ringing in his head.

Jinyoung finally turned and noticed him staring, his eyes strangely soft.

Jinyoung, Mark signed, feeling he owed at least some explanation for the staring. You looked so happy right now.

Jinyoung's cheeks quickly turned a bright red at this, and Mark was delighted by how surprised and delighted Jinyoung himself was. He couldn't stop himself from continuing. You really like that song, don't you? The way your eyes looked when you were listening, it was really beautiful.”

Jinyoung's hands went to his cheeks, which were still tinged pink. He slowly lowered them. "You shoud have been listening to the song instead of paying attention to me," he muttered sheepishly.

I did listen. But it was better to listen while watching your reactions. Because of how much you felt it, I felt like I got it, too. It was very, very passionate.

He doubted Jinyoung understood most of that, and somewhat hoped he didn't. God, what is this?, Mark thought. Why am I being like this? What am I trying to do here? At Jinyoung's questioning gaze, he simply smiled and innocently and averted his eyes.

The two of them walked back to Mark's house together in silence. It was too dark to communicate with their hands, and even though Jinyoung could talk one-sidedly to Mark, it was an overall comfortable silence. Mark still felt a little bit nervous, but there was something soothing about Jinyoung's presence. Even though there were things he did to make his heart race, he still felt more free around him than with most other people.

“I had a good time,” Jinyoung said after awhile. “I really loved the music. Your family has a lot of CDs, do you think you could find Aveu Passionne for me? I was never able to find my mother's copy.”

Mark nodded. He wished he could be there to see Jinyoung listen to it again and feel all those odd emotions stemming from watching him again.

Jinyoung lowered his arm, brushing his knuckles against Mark's. “Now I really want to hear you play, if it's that good. Eunmi-ssi said to me before that you can hear the exact same piece played hundreds of times by different people, but it will never quite sound the same each time. Each musician, if they're any good, will bring something new to it. It can be the same with singing, but it seems sometimes that the people who don't really get it just go through the motions. There's no presence.” He smiled grimly. “But I think you'll be different somehow. I just know it."

Mark looked at him silently, wondering if he should at least make the effort to tell Jinyoung that he was starting to feel the same way about him, in his own little way. Once again, he wasn't certain he had any of the words he needed, or if he even really knew just what was going through his mind and heart, so he let himself stay quiet for the time being while the sentiment still remained uncertain. Something unfamiliar was beginning to settle over him, he realized, and he knew that it stirred thanks to Jinyoung-- everything about him from his searching smiles to his unwavering kindness. All the same, it was a Pandora's Box he wasn't prepared to open; hope wasn't something he'd had much of before, and what little he had still beat fragily in his heart, only just barely straining its wings to be set free. Let it go too soon, and he didn't think he had enough in him to sustain it.

But it wasn't impossible that he would find it in himself soon. That much at least his heart seemed certain of now, that there was more inside of him that even he had been aware of for all this time.

0o0

Mark met Jaebum, Jackson, and Eunmi on campus a few weeks later for Jinyoung's competiton, and Eunmi already seemed to be an odd mood. “Mark ssi,” she said. “Do I look okay? This shirt, it's really ugly, isn't it?”

Mark looked at her in bewilderment, then glanced at Jaebum, who simply shrugged. He doubted Eunmi knew any sign language to speak of, so he simply shook his head to say 'no', the shirt was fine. In fact, it was a really pretty peacock pattern. Mark wondered if she was dressing up specifically for Jinyoung.

“You think so? Or are you just saying that to be nice?” She huffed, blowing her bangs upwards. “Why am I even asking a guy though? You probably think all shirts look the same.”

“He looks pretty fashionable to me,” Jackson put in. “Anyways, you look fine. Just be your normal, charming self and everything will go well, hmmm?”

Mark blinked. Is she planning on confessing to Jinyoung tonight? Is Jackson helping her? The thought struck him as a bit depressing, though he didn't understand why. He'd thought they were already essentially dating. Making it official wouldn't change anything. Or at least that's what he wanted to think. The truth was that if they did start dating, everything would probably change. Starting with his own relationship with Jinyoung.

“Anyways, Jinyoung says Yugyeom and BamBam ah should be wandering around the theater, and that we should go rescue them. Shouldn't be too hard to find. Yugyeom looks like he swallowed a growth horomone, frankly, and BamBam's a cutie.”

“How old are they?” Mark asked, using his phone.

“About seventeenish, I think," Jaebum said. "I'm pretty sure Yugyeom and Jinyoung started talking because Jinyoung confused him for a hyung, and Yugyeom ah took his sweet time correcting him. BamBam's his best friend and actually looks his age, so that's how we were able to figure out Yugyeom's real age. You'll get along, I'm sure. Esepcially if he's still thinking about borrowng your Chris Brown DVD. But be a good boy and let Eunmi talk to him, too. This will be a reunion, after all.”

The four of them went into the theater and looked around the room. “There he is,” Jackson said, pointing to a significantly taller kid walking up and down the aisle with a bit of a bored look on his face, with a shorter and admittedly very cute guy following after him. When they finally noticed Jackson, their expressions instantly lit up and they bounded over to meet them, also taking note of Mark and Eunmi.

“Hyung,” BamBam said squeezing Jaebum's hand. “Jinyoung hyung made me get here two hours early with him, and he stole all my snakcs. Give me some money for the vending machine.”

“Nice to see you, too, BamBam ah, Yugyeom ah,” Jaebum said, smirking. “This is Lee Eunmi and Mark Tuan, friends of Jinyoung's and mine from school.”

"Mark? Mark?" BamBam gave him a smack on the back and switched over to English. "Yo, man, what's up?"

“Mark Tuan,” Yugyeom repeated. “The one with all the American hip-hop DVDs”

“The very same.”

Yugyeom looked at Mark appreciatively. “Jinyoung hyung has gotten so much better at making friends. Do you ave any more DVDs? Will you let me borrow the Chris Brown one, pretty please?”

He looked unsurprised when Mark began typing into his phone, so Jinyoung presumably had already told him about Mark's speech condition. “Go right ahead. I have a lot of others back at home I'd be willing to lend too.”

"Wow, you're the best! Anyways, I heard Jinyoung hyung met you by hitting you with a ripboard. Real classy.”

“He hit me, too,” Eunmi pointed out.

“Oh.” He turned his eyes to Eunmi, apparently not recognizing her. “Are you Jackson's girlfriend?”

“Um...”

“Yugyeom ah, haven't I taught you anything about asking blunt questions right to people's faces?” Jaebum ruffled his hair. “Anyways, Lee Eunmi has much more...elevated...tastes than Jackson. She says she you two used to be friends. You should say a proper hello rather than asking her weird things.”

Yugyeom studied her for a moment before it dawned on him. “Wait, you used to take dance lessons with me at my aunt's studio, right? That Lee Eunmi? You're living in Seoul now?”

She nodded eagerly. “I moved for university. I'm continuing my studies at the performing arts school along with everyone. Would you please pass my regards on to your aunt? It's because of her that I had the confidence to pursue my training this far.”

“I will. She'd be happy to hear it, definitely. You should come visit her sometime again and dance for her. I'd take you.”

Eunmi smiled widely, but managed to give a calm enough agreement to the idea.

“Now that we've settled that, let's get our seats before they start the event without us,” Jackson said, grabbing BamBam and Yugyeom's arms and steering him down the aisle. Jaebum, Mark, and Eunmi followed after them.

They took their seats in the middle of the room. While Yugyeom caught up with Eunmi, BamBam chatted with Mark about meeting Jinyoung at Yugyeom's family restaurant during the summer, and going over to his house in the evenings to do his homework so the still grieving Jinyoung wouldn't be lonely.

“He's gotten so much more lively since meeting you,” BamBam added. “I think he needed something to take his mind off all the bad things, and there's nothing hyung likes more than mastering something. Although, I think he just really wants to talk to you more than anything.”

Mark smiled a little bit at BamBam's phrasing, which didn't seem to escape anyone's notice. “Jinyoung has seemed very motivated recently,” Eunmi mused.

“He's motivated about singing, usually,” BamBam shrugged. “And being nice but secretly sly all the time, he's good at that, too. That's an annoying part of him, though. He makes himself a difficult person to dislike, even though he steals my food and always pinches my cheeks.”

Mark smiled. “You have cute cheeks.”

“Not you, too!”

Mark still couldn't believe how easy it was to talk, but BamBam and Yugyeom were just like Jinyoung and Jackson and Jaebum and even Eunmi. They didn't get annoyed at Mark for the delay in his responses or the fact that his “voice” was a digital file in his phone. Not all of them had the same warmth as Jinyoung, though there was certainly a sweetness somewhere in everyone's demeanor, but they were all kind to Mark and made him feel comfortable with them. The thought of it made him a bit happy; there were people who were willing to try to be close to him in the world. Jinyoung wasn't just some random fluke who had felt sorry for him. He was the start of something, the first one to take the leap. The first one to convince Mark to take the leap with him, and for the first time trust in himself enough to trust in others.

After awhile, the stage lights dimmed and the competition began. Though Mark didn't know how to judge them on a technical level, he was still impressed by the first few solo singers. They all had powerful vocals, and sang in ways that would give some of the recent chart toppers pause. Since they were singing alone, their song choices were focused on showcasing their individual skills, and Mark found himself impressed by the amount of ways they expressed themselves through the ways they handled the notes, their voice expressing an emotional story along with the words of the lyrics.

Jinyoung's solo performance came before the scheduled duo performances, and if Mark felt he suffered from a lack of grace from the ripboard incident, those illusions vanished as soon as he opened his mouth. Jinyoung's style of singing was very rich and emotion-centric. Like during the Aveu Passionne performance, his emotions were fully engaged, but he didn't showboat excessively; each note flowed right into the other, capturing your attention and leaving you breathless with his voice's simple power. Mark couldn't keep his mouth from falling open in a probably unsightly gape, but it was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, and he couldn't keep himself from expressing that amazement.

“Nice, right?” Jackson asked, leaning in while they clapped after Jinyoung's performance. “I've seen him perform at several of these things, and he gets me every time. I don't know what he's got exactly, but he's got it.”

Mark glanced over at Eunmi. She also looked impressed, and he couldn't blame her. Who wouldn't fall for him, after that? Wait... He tried to check his thoughts, but they resisted him. Well, maybe I did. Just a little. He looks great now, better than ever. Maybe that's all it is. Maybe...

He shifted in his seat, biting his lips. Did he have to be thinking about this now? He was happy with his friendship. He was lucky to even be at this event at the invite of someone else, sitting with four people he liked and one he wanted to in spite of feeling envious of her. Mark wasn't sure he had room for complications, particularly one of this size, so this time he sternly forbid his mind to think of it. He watched the fresh singers with newfound firmness, willing their performances to be just as much to him as Jinyoung's was. If he was being honest, none of them were.

Jinyoung paired with a female singer for the duo performance, a tall and elegant looking girl. It was nearly impossible to deny how well she matched the song she and Jinyoung had chosen together. They both had a similar style and were very gifted, and paired together they both came across as incredibly attractive as well. Their song was about forbidden love, so as the lyrics expressed never being able to touch and be close to each other, the way their notes caressed each other and represented the longing of their lyrics gave Mark shivers, as if it was more intense than the actual act of touch itself would be. Oddly, Mark could almost sense the fingers ghosting over his own arm just by listening, only increasing the goosebumps on his arms even through the packed heat of the theater. What is this? His body felt like it was reacting outside of his control, reacting too much for the situation. Heartbeat quickening, sweat delicately beading, breath falling short. Time all at once feeling as if it was moving at an uneven rate. The singers' pace and passion increasing onstage, unhumanly fast, and he in his seat, frozen and unmoving, lost in a moment that had him tightly in its grip.

The female singer met Jinyoung's eyes and he turned away, looking out at the audience who was in on their secret. Mark couldn't be sure, but he swore that Jinyoung's eyes fixed on the area where they were sitting. He drew his tongue across his bottom lip and exhaled gently before turning back to his singing partner, but it was already too late by time he looked away: Mark's heart felt like it was on the verge of stopping. No, no, no, no. I don't want this, I definitely do not want this. But a heavy feeling had settled over his stomach, a hungry ache much like the one Jinyoung and the other singer were portraying together in their performance, and he knew what it was. He knew exactly what it was, and everything about it terrified him.

“Are you okay, hyung?” BamBam asked, leaning over. They were supposed to be clapping for Jinyoung, but Mark was just sitting there numbly, staring at him. The question of what he would do next was hanging over his head. He'd only ever liked someone else distantly, where there would be no existing relationship to be destroyed if his feelings were not received. What on earth was he to do about these intrusive feelings for the person who had become one of his closest friends? I could force them down, he tried to tell himself, but then Jinyoung really did look out into his spot in the audience with a huge grin on his face. Mark felt his heart plummeting all over again, the dull ache becoming sharp and throbbing. No, I can't, he realized. I don't know how this happened, but this is how I feel...

He made the 'OK' sign to BamBam with his fingers, though he felt as far from OK as he ever had. He wanted the person he'd seen singing on the stage with such passion whether alone or with someone else. He wanted the overeager boy who'd gotten excited over learning sign language because of him, and had persisted in being with him so that they could become friends. He even wanted the idiot who'd plowed into his leg and hadn't even known to apologize until Jackson and Jaebum had told him to. He wanted him, but he didn't have the faintest idea of just how in reach he was. Mark glanced at Eunmi, his heart clenching. She'd gotten to him first, hadn't she? Why hadn't Jinyoung paid attention to who he was running into properly? He'd still probably choose her, he thought. He's supposed to choose her. But still... if she's the one he loves, why is the one he's looking at me?

His mind went back and forth in both ways until the competition finally wrapped up and the panel judges were left to deliberate on the contestants. He distantly listened to Yugyeom and Eunmi placing bets on Jinyoung beside him, but didn't join in. Of course Jinyoung deserved to win. If he was on that panel, both the singles and pair trophies would have gone to him in a heartbeat, particularly since he suddenly felt himself unable to remember what the other singers had looked like. It made him feel pitiful. You told yourself it wouldn't be like this, he yelled at himself, but before long, images of Jinyoung were dancing beneath his eyelids, and he felt lost all over again.

Jinyoung wound up taking the duet trophy with his partner, which Mark thought was only fitting. They'd sounded amazing performing together, and couldn't help but grin as the two of them hoisted their trophy over their heads.

“So I guess we should go backstage and congratulate him,” Jaebum said, scratching his head. “Too bad we don't have a bouquet for him.”

“It would be crowded if all of us went in at once,” Eunmi said. “Yugyeom ah and I can go first.”

“That might work, but if just you two went alone, I guarentee the second or third thing out of his mouth will be Where is MarK?” Jackson said.

“Then we can wait here and you and Mark ssi can go.”

“No, it's okay,” Yugyeom said. “He already texted me telling us to go back. We're good to go.”

With Jinyoung's approval, all five of them trooped backstage. Since it was only a university theater, there wasn't much in the way of dressing rooms or private waiting rooms for all the dancers, so they found Jinyoung wiping down with some of his fellow classmates in a small lounge. “There you are!” he said, his eyes brightening. BamBam was the first to reach him, and the first to receive a warm bear hug, though he batted it away with a loud “Hyung, you're covered in sweat from the stage lights, get off me!” That didn't stop Jinyoung from also reaching out to Mark, apologizing for the sweat as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I'm so happy you came,” he murmured. The strength of his eye contact made blood rush straight to Mark's head, but he forced himself to hold their eye contact. My heart is choosing you, so I'm not going to run from you, he thought. Even if it's hopeless.

Jinyoung returned his gaze, a smile creeping onto his lips. Well... are you going to congratulate me?, he signed, dropping his hands for a moment.

Did you learn 'congratulate' just for this?

I want you to say it to me.

Mark smiled back. Congratulations. You did well.

Because you all were here. Out loud, he said, “My partner and I practiced that one for weeks, but we were really worried we wouldn't nail the ending. But once we were actually up onstage, it felt so simple.”

“You were amazing,” Eunmi said. To Mark's surprise, she didn't step up to receive a hug from Jinyoung, though technically speaking, one of his arms was still wrapped around Mark. “I thought you should have gotten the trophy for your solo, too.”

“Thanks, but there were definitely parts of that were lacking. Practing with a partner is more fun than doing it by myself. Besides, during my second performance, I saw where you guys were sitting, and it gave me encouragement.”

Eunmi and Mark both smiled at that, and Jaebum and Yugyeom rolled their eyes.

“Hey, hyung, are we going out for a celebration dinner?” BamBam asked. “Like, I want to keep hanging out with Mark hyung, he's really cool.”

Jinyoung sniffed. “You didn't bother him, did you?”

“They're very~ good friends with each other,” Jackson said. “You should have seen them bonding. I bet Mark would fall over himself to entertain BamBam, and Yugyeom too for that matter.”

Jinyoung looked down at Mark, looking mildly offended. Eunmi glared at Jackson and jabbed her elbow into his ribs.

I just want to pinch BamBam ah's cheeks, Mark signed sheepishly.

“You just want to what? I don't understand.” Jinyoung wrinkled his brow. “I don't think that was the sign for talking or hanging out. What do you want to do with him? And isn't this celebration about me?”

“Wow, who's the brat here?” Yugyeom wondered. “You're the one who's probably bothering Mark hyung.” He roughly pushed Jinyoung's arm from around Mark, much to Mark's regret. “Anyways, maybe we can go to my family's restaurant. They'll let me in as long as I'm with you.”

“Oh, please! Let's go!” Eunmi suddenly looked much happier than she had a moment ago. “I've never been to the restaurant before and I'd love to see it.”

Jinyoung looked at Mark, Jackson, Jaebum, and BamBam. “You all will come right?”

“I'm not about to miss out on an on-the-house meal,” Jaebum said.

I'll go, definitely, Mark signed.

“Great!” Jinyoung's hand crept back to the small of his back, dangerously close to Mark's waist. He couldn't tell if it meant something or nothing, but he couldn't keep his heart from racing. If you aren't feeling anything for me, why are you like this?, he wondered. Am I only trying to make myself believe what I want to believe, or could you possibly, possibly be falling in love along with me?

He couldn't be sure, but he also couldn't be sure how long he could handle this bittersweet closeness without knowing to some degree. As soon as they left to go to the restaurant, Mark let everyone walk in front of him and pulled out his phone to text Youngjae.

-Are you there? I need help. Badly.