A/N: Korean, Cantonese, Thai, English

To Mark, the lunch seems infused with despair. Though everyone chats happily as they fill their stomachs, his own stomach churns and it’s all he can do not to run away from the situation. His first love and childhood best friend, sitting across the table from him– but unable to recognize him. At least it looks like you’re not adversely affected by seeing him.

Peniel, why did you do this to me?

He pushes a straw mushroom around his plate, chewing on his lip and bouncing his leg restlessly. Jackson looks at him from time to time, confused and concerned, but resolves to ask him in private.

Appetite not yet fully recovered, you take small bites of the Thai food, humming appreciatively and nodding when Wiwat looks at you inquiringly. “It’s delicious!”

BamBam agrees excitedly. “Thanks so much for introducing me to this place! I’ll definitely come again,” he declares around a mouthful of food.

Laughing slightly at his exuberance, you look absently around.

Mark’s exhausted countenance snags your attention, and you stay fixated on his face far longer than appropriate. He glances up, almost unwillingly, and the agony in his gaze traps you. You almost shout with the frustration of not being able to get up and hug him. Instead, you glance at his plate and ask, friendly, “Not hungry?”

He startles, as if he didn’t realize he was looking at you. “Not really,” he replies, averting his eyes and shrugging. The graceful motion of his shoulders looks familiar to you now, and you wonder how you could have forgotten the brightest part of your life.

“That’s a shame,” you say, instead of “Please take care of yourself” or “You should eat something.” Damn the social norms that dictate the blandness of first encounters. Don’t presume, jagi, you tell yourself bitterly. Mark isn’t the same person he was. You don’t know him yet.

 “Tell him to eat something,” you turn to Wiwat and say with a smile, just loud enough for BamBam to unintentionally hear and turn to you, making eye contact. You put enough warning in your voice enough for Wiwat grasp the situation and chuckle, as if you just said something funny.

BamBam is confused, but not enough to ignore you. He grabs Mark’s plate and plops a little bit of each dish on it. “Hyung, these are all so authentic! I bet you’ve never had real Thai food before. Try these!”

You nod approvingly as Mark stares at his plate in dismay. He can no longer refrain from eating without causing BamBam offense, and BamBam managed to skirt the hyung-dongseng issue with directly telling him to eat more. “Good job,” you say softly.

BamBam smiles shyly and doesn’t respond, ducking his head to focus on food again. No doubt he’ll ask you about it later and it’ll result in all sorts of awkwardness, but for now at least Mark is eating.

Peniel leans into you a bit and whispers softly. “You enlisted BamBam, didn’t you?”

You nod and turn to him, needing comfort. “I can’t stand seeing him like this. Maybe this lunch wasn’t such a good idea.”

Aw, Jewel. “He’s just scared that seeing him will hurt you. Everything will work out. This would have happened sooner or later, right?” He puts one arm around you, and you burrow a little closer. In your periphery, Mark’s pained expression makes you close your eyes, mouth turning down in an involuntary frown.

***

Lunch is finished, finally, and you bound out of the room ready to release the tension that has built up. Wiwat drags you to a stop and looks you over, making sure you’re not about to collapse.

“Oh, come on,” you protest. “I’m fine!”

“I’m your trainer,” he reminds you, brooking no argument.

You shut up and allow him to finish his perusal, rolling your eyes. Bouncing a little, you whip your leg out as he turns around, thwack-ing him on the before bounding away, giggling.

Nam laughs at your antics, leading the excited group to the studio– that is, the mostly excited group. Mark trails at the back of the group, needing to be anywhere else but here. You fall back, dragged like a magnet and fearing the worst, and tap him on the shoulder. He looks up wearily, then stumbles back, pupils dilating dramatically.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” you joke, heart constricting painfully.

You’re not wrong.

“Are you okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, looking away. “Not in peak condition, that’s all.”

Your steps falter at his cold attitude. “Oh... Okay.”

Another route, then.

You slide next to Jackson as you all enter the moderately small studio. “go4 go1,” you say in a low tone. “Is Mark feeling okay?” you ask, innocently curious.

“He had a nightmare,” he answers seriously.

“A nightmare?” you repeat. You widen your eyes minutely so that Jackson will keep going.

“Yeah, he has them pretty frequently. I room with him so I know– he always makes a lot of noise and then wakes up.” Jackson looks at you, frowning. “Why do you ask?”

“Just concerned,” you shrug. “Wondering if I could do anything to help.”

Jackson shakes his head vigorously. “Don’t try, honestly. He gets pretty angry when we ask him. I don’t think he’s ready to talk about it yet.”

You nod solemnly and walk away, limbering up. Yoseob and Gikwang sidle up next to you, anticipatory yet somehow nervous-looking. You glance up at them as you stretch.

“Yes?”

“Somehow I can’t believe a petite, pretty girl like you can be good at MMA,” Gikwang ruminates aloud.

You blink at him. “You’re saying this to my face?”

Yoseob slaps him on the back. “Yah, don’t be ist.”

You laugh and shrug. “That one wasn’t so bad.” Jumping up, you head over to Wiwat in the center of the room. “Ready for defeat?” you ask him cheekily.

He blinks at you. “Please no, not in front of everyone!” he protests. “Have some decency, would you?”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine, I won’t rub your face in it. But I’m not letting you win.”

He hiccups nervously, but hides it with a brilliant smile. “Bring it on.”

All the boys, Nam, and her husband line up against the wall, the last with a slightly bemused expression. Not quite condescending, but approaching it.

You exhale slowly, settling into a comfortable stance. This is always your favorite part of sparring with Wiwat– watching his face relax, those permanent smile crinkles smoothing out, his eyes becoming focused, intent.

The two of you gauge each other, each utterly familiar with the other. You barely glimpse his tell and sidestep as he steps forward and tries a kick..

“You’ve gotten better at not telegraphing your move,” you say, impressed. “Nearly got me there.”

“As if,” he snorts, keeping his eyes fixed on your center. “You saw that coming a mile away.”

“If you say so,” you reply amusedly as you dance forward, hitting his thigh with your shin, and dance back, out of the way as he tries to grab you.

The match continues much in the same vein, though you notice that Wiwat has improved from the last time you two sparred. Or perhaps you’ve deteriorated?

Before long, the two of you have broken a light sweat and decide to stop.

“Did I get worse?” you demand of Wiwat.

“You just have short legs, sweetie,” he replies, patting you on the head.

“Oh,” you respond, then whip your head around again. “Hey!”

Applause interrupts your bantering.

“I haven’t seen anyone spar without fists before,” Nam’s husband says, slightly humbled. “I’m Poon. It’s good to see practitioners here. You’re welcome to come by any time if you need a sparring partner!”

“The food’s great too,” you add, winking at Nam. She smiles happily and bows, putting her hands together.

Looking around, you see the boys hovering at a distance. Peniel comes forward and whispers, “They’re intimidated by your martial prowess.”

“And you’re not?” you shoot back, then lower your voice. “How is Mark?”

Pen hesitates. “Not so well. Did Jackson tell you about the nightmares? I assumed that’s what you were talking about.”

“Yes. I wish I could find some way to let him know I’m okay,” you sigh.

“He still blames himself,” Pen says.

“I know.”

Putting on a brave smile, you turn to face the others. “So that was the show! I’m more spectacular when I can use my fists, promise.”

Some chuckles.

“That was so cool, bi4 bi1,” Jackson announces, slinging an arm around you. “Teach me sometime!”

Mark’s face in your periphery, a flash of some disgruntled expression. You wrinkle your nose and playfully duck out of Jackson’s hold. “Only if you teach me how to do those fancy flips,” you bargain.

“Oh, Mark’s much better at those,” he replies, pointing at the sad boy in the corner. Mark looks up, surprised, albeit a tad morose.

“Oi, Mark!” Jackson calls. “寶貝 says she wants to learn martial arts tricking.”

Mark blanches a pasty shade of white, visibly ill.

For the first time you wonder, is this a good idea? Maybe it would be best to never re-enter Mark’s life. Perhaps, in time, he would learn to forgive himself. At least then, he wouldn’t be in mortal fear of hurting you.

You shake your head minutely at yourself. Mark would never forgive himself. Who are you kidding? He cared, and obviously cares, too much.

Forcing out a brilliant smile, you walk over to the boy who stole your heart years ago and bow lightly. “Teach me, sensei.”

He tries to back away, but the wall is directly behind him. “U-u-uh...” he stutters, eyes wide with apprehension. His gaze darts around desperately, then lands on someone behind you.

Your smile falters.

“P-Peniel,” he calls weakly. “Peniel?”

You take a step back, smile disappearing. “En, I... I’m sorry.” Turning in a hurry, you nearly run out of the room, oblivious to the flock of boys who watch you leave, and the two who follow a beat later. Even so, you barely make it out before the first tear tracks its way down your cheek.

Mark, I can’t do this.