1.

He has been waiting for the past hour for his friend, ordering the cheapest available drinks on the posh bar menu on his already limited budget just to avoid the judging stare from the bartender. He's on his second margarita, taking baby sips for the past hour to avoid getting kicked out by 'Jaebum', said bartender's name-plate reads, because even though the guy's kinda good-looking, he looked perfectly capable of whooping Mark's into next week. And although some of the elderly and filthy rich patrons of the said bar have graciously sent him drinks, much to Jaebum's chagrin, he politely declined, saying that he was actually waiting for someone but that he appreciates the sentiment.

He doesn't really, though.

He's smart enough to know that they all just want to get into his pants, it has always been that way. His young, and desperate teenage self would've grabbed the opportunity for the extra cash, but he's older now. He has done things that he isn't proud of and his dignity is all he has left. Although not much of it had survived his downward spiral to the harshness of life, he still has some left. That and his face.

He's not arrogant about it, but he has been aware since his adolescent life that his face was very aesthetically pleasing to most people- aware enough to make him move out of his peaceful country life in Busan and venture out to Seoul in his dad's old truck all those years ago. Running away from his simple-minded parents, leaving behind that dead-beat public high school, cutting ties with all his childhood friends, and probably the most painful one- severing the warmth that is Jinyoung from his life- all to realize his dream of being famous.

When he got to Seoul, it turns out that there were thousands of others just like him, and that his special face wasnt really that of a big deal after all. He went to more auditions than he could even begin to remember, braving the harsh heat of the sun in never-ending queues of other aspirants, only to be met with the even harsher words of snotty old executives in their mocking tones.

He broke his back for three years, barely getting by from taking part-time jobs at night anywhere and everywhere, crashing at his shared dump of an apartment with Youngjae, sleeping barely a wink, and training at the entertainment agency from the crack of dawn until his leg muscles almost give out from under him. Only to be told that, "We're very sorry, but after much deliberation, we feel that you wouldn't fit the general dynamic of what we had in mind for our boy group. Perhaps you would like us to contact other agencies that you can try and audition for?"

He gave up then, knowing for a fact that it would be too late for him to debut if he needed to start from scratch. He accepted his fate, delibarated coming back home with his tail between his two legs, but ultimately decided against it. He tried to tell himself that the opportunities back home were worse and that he still had a better chance of making something out of himself here. The other reason, and perhaps the real one if he was being honest with himself, lingered every night in his mind since. His first friend in Seoul and eventual roommate, Youngjae, had been let go as a trainee as well but was fortunate enough to be hired as a lyricist and ghost vocalist. They both cried for their dreams. Still, they were thankful that they had a roof above their heads, even if the circumstances were far from their youthful goals.

They manage somehow to scrape by, taking some more odd jobs here and there, which is why Mark was in this too expensive bar in the first place. His contact, Andrew, had offered him a small gig as an uncredited "underwear model". His friend liked to put on an air of sophistication around himself, even though they both know that Andrew was not much above the poverty line himself. He wears imitations of branded items and mingles with other 'elite' scouting agents, or so he tells Mark. How his unofficial agent even manages to scrape these vague ads, he had no idea of finding out. He knows there might be a bit more than his shady friend let on about the deal, but he really needs the cash. Anything short of ion he would've taken with a grain of salt.

Mark's pulled out of his reverie as his imitation phone, courtesy of Andrew (it makes me look bad if you don't even have a phone!), blares out 'we're gonna flyyyyy~ flyyy' as it vibrates on the expensive wooden counter top. Jaebum flashes him a death glare as he wipes shot glasses on the other end of the counter, daring Mark to waste one more second of not answering his phone and see where it gets him. He tries not to cower on his seat and presses to answer. 

'Hello?'

'MARKIE!'

Mark bristles at the stupid nickname. His agent of sorts only uses that 'endearment' whenever he's with the other 'elite' agents.

'Listen, doll. Something came up that i really really really have to take care of, sweetie. I can't make it tonight'

'Are you ing kidding me? I already wasted three days worth of food money for this disgusting crap and you're telling me you can't come?' he screeches, for once unmindful of Jaebum's pissed off gaze.

'Oh, hush! I'll just pay you back when I see you'

Mark rolls his eyes so far back and wonders if Andrew could somehow magically see his frustation through the gesture.

'You always say that! Besides, you don't even have much money on you'

His agent decidedly  pretends not to hear. 'It's fine, Markie! I'll just tell you the details of the job some other time.. unless you don't want to do it anymore?' Be grateful, you little . I can find some other desperate man to do this job, and you can kiss your money goodbye

Mark sighs and says in his most delightful voice, 'Thank you, Andrew. I guess I'll just finish this drink and go home then. Please just contact me regarding the job the next time you're free'

'Oh, of course! You know I'll take care of you, Markie. Tata!'

The line clicks off and Mark briefly wonders if he could get away from his tab by high-tailing it out of there and gunning for the fire exit. He chances a glance at Jaebum, and the other man was currently busy attending to a rather loud and very blonde customer in a dark suit. Mark heaves another deep sigh and contemplates his choices. He should really pay for his drinks, considering that Jaebum's pay might be at stake for a ty thing that Mark indirectly caused. And although the guy has customer-servicing behavior, he did allow Mark to loiter in the air-conditioned and posh bar for a few hours. But on the other hand, though he has roughly the same amount of money in his wallet for his tab, it would definitely deal a blow to his already tight budget consisting of ramyeon and store-bought kimchi from the ahjumma downstairs of his apartment.

It was rather a no-brainer. Mark chose self-preservation.

Which might have been the dumb choice since Jaebum apparently had quick, cat-like reflexes, sniffing out Mark's planned transgression even with his back turned to the blonde. He barely makes it out of his bar stool before Jaebum let's out an indignant 'Ya!', and chases him from over the counter. Mark sees the whole moment in slow motion- the angry set of the bartender's chin and his eyes into menacing slits as he braces himself on the tabletop and jumps over the bar in a matter of seconds, gracefully landing on his two feet. Mark makes a desperate run for the exit, with Jaebum hot on his heel, and he briefly muses that- really, they should increase the poor dude's pay since he's practically doubling as a bouncer on the job- when he face-first slams onto a muscled body clothed in a soft satin shirt and expensive perfume. Jaebum slams onto him from behind, the bartender too intent on catching him that he didn't notice that Mark already stopped, toppling the two of them forward, whole weight of the two smacking into the unknown man.

The guy in front of him grunts in a low, baritone voice but manages to hold their combined, excess weight against him. Jaebum turns him around, back facing the unknown man, and clutches at his neck, hold almost chokingly tight as Mark tries to flash him an impish grin. 

'Where the hell do you think you're going, bastard?' He seethes (more like hisses) as his eyes disappear once again to slits. 

'Uhm, I was going to the bathroom?' Mark lies through his teeth, focusing not on the bartender's clenched jaw and instead on the rather adorable twin set of tiny moles above Jaebum's left eye to avoid pissing himself. 

'Bathroom my . Pay for those disgusting glasses of margarita first, !'

A few of the patrons turn their judging gazes at the commotion, sizing up the situation and deeming it unfit of their attention, continue to chat over the bland music as if it was a rather common occurence at the bar to have unruly blonde idiots quarelling with the black-haired bartender.

'Nice service, JB! Very professional' The blonde in the suit hollers from his chair, barking in a hyena-sounding laugh. 

'Shut up, Jackson. And that's hyung to you!'

'BUT I'M A CUSTOMER!! Tsk. This is why you've never gotten employee of the month, man'

'Right? Considering he's even the only employee here' the man behind Mark chuckles.

'Shut up, both of you' Jaebum combs a hand down his face exasperatedly an levels Mark with a hard stare. 'You. Don't make my job harder than it has to be and just pay for the damn drinks. 50,000 won.'

'I-I don't have money to pay you' Mark quietly says. He's embarrassed at having to admit it in front of people he knows jack about, but swallows his pride anyway in hopes of having an easier time.

'Bull. Besides, not my problem.' Mark starts to panic at the situation, knowing that he'd have to cough up money he can't afford to waste when Mr. Satin Shirt decides to help him out.

'Aishh. JB-hyung is too harsh. I'll pay for it then' the man says in a patient and mischievous tone, earning a glare from the bartender. Jaebum lets go of Mark's neck, turning around to go back to his post and to a snickering Jackson. He's rubs his neck a bit, a little ashamed of turning to look at his good samaritan savior.

'Whatever, as long as those ing drinks don't come off of my pay' he sighs. He glances to Mark and to the man behind him.

'Seriously, you're too kind for your own good, Jinyoung.'

Mark freezes at the name, because surely, it had to be a coincidence, right? There were a lot of Jinyoungs in korea. It can't be his Jinyoung. The blonde turns around quickly, the sudden movement causing him a whiplash.

He's had a few drinks, sure. But he doesn't think it's the drunkeness that causes his knees to weaken at the sight of those familiar warm brown eyes starting to water as the other male starts to recognize him as well. The man is startled, his pink, pouty lips hang open, and his thick brows furrow. Mark's heart stutters in its cage.

'Jinyoung-ah...'

He must have said it the wrong way then if Jinyoung's answering fist to his jaw was any indication.

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A/N: I honestly dont know how this is going to turn out lol *hides*