PART 6:3

MARK

The strumming beat of heavy bass pounds through the speaker above Mark’s head with a beat so loud he thinks his head is vibrating.

Mark slides his change back into his wallet, feeling the loss of his fun-money, as it will slowly disappear over the night. He only brought two twenties, which should be more than enough to cover him and maybe then some, but bars are expensive. Even bars that are giving them a group bar crawl discount are expensive for him seeing as he doesn’t have a job right now. His job of helping his parents out around the house and at church brings in some extra money until he gets his youth group job back over the summer.

He sets a one-dollar bill down on the bar when the bartender sets his tequila sunrise – a recommendation by Jinyoung – down in front of him. Mark picks the drink up and swirls straw around, mixing the alcohol around, the first sip tastes strongly of alcohol.

“How is it?” Jinyoung has his hands around his own drink, a simple rum and coke.

Mark clears his throat, “Strong. It’s good.” If he mixes up it a bit more and lets the ice melt, it’ll be perfect.

“Next bar we’re doing shots.” Jinyoung pinches the back of JB’s shoulder, who’s seated on a bar stool to Jinyoung’s right. “Hyung we’re doing shots.”

JB tilts his beer bottle towards Jinyoung. “Do whatever you want. I’m only drinking beer tonight.”

“You’re no fun, do a shot of beer with us then.”

Mark strains his ears to hear what JB says in return, but the group of Jackson’s fencing team friends to his left erupt in laughter and with the loud music playing in the bar he misses the last half of the conversation. He decides he likes the first bar they went to better than this one because it wasn’t as loud or crowded at the bar. Well, the bitterness clouding this bar may have something to do with Jackson ditching him the second they walked in and hasn’t been seen since. Thankfully, Jinyoung and JB are here or Mark would be floating in a sea of awkward fighting against a tide of small talk and getting caught in the reefs of drinking alone.

One thing he has yet to fix is the more awkward the situation is the faster he drinks and the quicker he regrets being halfway to drunk.

“Where’s Jackson?” JB half yells out to them.

The buzz in Mark’s head makes him shrug his shoulders and loll his head to the side, “Dunno. Over there?” He points to his left and takes a long sip. All he knows for certain is that they’re spending at least a half an hour or longer at each bar before they move to the next one.

“Oh, cool. Hey, are you going to Jackson’s fencing meet? You can ride with us we’re going,” says JB, leaning over to be heard.

“Um…I have to check the date first.” For the life of him, Mark can’t remember if he has an important class related thing to do that day. He’s pretty sure Jackson said the big meet starts on a Friday. “I can go later if I have to.”

Wait a second, just how are Jinyoung and JB planning on going if neither of them can drive a car in the U.S.? Mark doesn’t think he’d feel safe with either of them being the wheel. Not that he doesn’t trust the two of them, he’s not sure if he’d trust the two of them with his life yet. Being alive and being afraid for his life are two different things.

“Cool,” says Jinyoung. He bobs his head to the beat and picks at the napkin under his glass, nudging JB in the side and speaking to him in Korean. Mark’s beyond the capacity of picking up what Jinyoung is saying – concentration and focus be damned.

He wets his mouth with a long sip from his drink and relaxes into his barstool. Even though he’s new to the bar crawl scene, it’s fun and different from the house parties he’s been to over the past semester. Perhaps Jackson and he can go to a bar sometime after classes are done for the week. The beat of the music brightens his spirits, brings a tap to his feet, and warms him up inside.

His cup may not be overfloweth with holy wine, but from it flows a dangerous fire.

 M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

With the burn the tequila still in his mouth, Mark takes to Jinyoung’s suggestion without a second thought. He finds Jackson in the crowded bar/club; Mark’s unsure what this place is really, but there’s a DJ and a small dance floor and Jackson’s in the thick of it. Weaving past people, Mark forces his way through to latch his arms around Jackson’s back.

Jackson jerks and turns his head around, “Mark!” He stumbles forward, catching his footing and dragging Mark with him. “Where have you been?”

Smashing his cheek into Jackson’s back, Mark mumbles into Jackson’s t-shirt. “Did a tequila shot with Jinyoung.” Jackson is warm against his skin, almost too warm for the sweat clinging to the back of Mark’s neck.

“Jesus ,” says Jackson, his hands grabbing Mark’s elbows from where Mark’s back hugging him. “Are you drunk?” Fingers squeeze around the points of Mark’s bones. “How many?”

Mark sways to the beat of the music, “Sure. Let’s dance or something.” He’s drunk, Jackson’s drunk, everyone is drunk, what difference does it make? He’s fine with standing here and leaning against Jackson, smelling his cologne, or maybe that’s his deodorant, and someone’s hand is on his . Wait.

“Don’t touch my, don’t touch my .” Mark breaks his hold to swat at the person behind him. The amount of people squished together in the small space is now making him feel uncomfortable. He’s pretty sure only Jackson is allowed to touch his right now. Yes, that is how it is.

The offending hand removes itself, although, not soon enough because Jackson pulls him to his side. “Did someone touch your ?” He frowns, looking behind them, “Alissa did you touch his ?”

“Jenna did it,” a girl said, laughing. “I dared her. Sorry Jackson.”

“Damn it Jenna! I said no Mark, Mark is off limitss,” says Jackson, speech a bit slurred. Mark swallows and pats Jackson’s for good measure.

“It’s okay, I don’t care.”

Jackson grins, his arm tightening around Mark’s waist. “That’s my right?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders. “Sure.” Jackson can say whatever he wants, but Mark’s certain he owns both his and Jackson’s thank you very much.

 M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

Bar three turns into bar four that turns a barstool and a tall glass of water filled with ice.

“Jackson,” Mark curls his hands on Jackson’s arm. “Heeeeey! How’re you?” His stomach sloshes back and forth, but Mark’s sure he isn’t going to puke. Nope, he’s not going to puke. Definitely not. He doesn’t do that puking thing.

The last bar on their stop couldn’t come at a better time for Mark doesn’t think he has any room for any more alcohol in his system. He’s not sure he has room for the glass of water he’s been drinking since everything he drinks seems to want to go straight through him.

He swears he was dancing at the third bar, but for the life of him he can’t remember why he thought that was a good idea. It’s all Jinyoung’s fault for giving him that shot of tequila and telling him to go put his hands on Jackson’s hips.

Yes, Jinyoung’s such a spock haired face.

Jackson leans inwards, “Hey Mark, I’m good! I’m great! Man, I love alcohol.” His shoulder bumps into Mark’s, pushing Mark to the side. “I’m going to be so hung over tomorrow, but I don’t care. homework! I feel so alive right now!” He slams his hands down on the bar, the lights from behind the bar making his eyes bright and shiny like little glass bobbles.

Mark turns his head to the side because just when did Jackson get Christmas ornaments as eyes?

“Me too,” Mark parrots, “me too.” What time is it even? Mark finds his head tipping until his cheek bumps up against Jackson’s shoulder. His eyelids feel heavy, as do his limbs, fingers, and toes. He could sleep here with the lullaby of the top ten on the pop music charts crooning him to bed.

“Hey hey, don’t pass out.”

Someone slaps Mark’s back, forcing Mark to open his eyes. “’M tired,” Mark says, clenching his hands into fists. “Need to sleep.” The heavy weight in his stomach takes a turn with movement, souring his experience.

“Hey…don’t….I’m calling a taxi.”

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When Mark wakes up with eyelids near glued shut and not in his own bed, his heart pounds wildly until he realizes he’s at Jackson’s apartment in Jackson’s bed. Street noise filters in from the closed windows, car motors running, the 32 bus driving off from the corner stop with a familiar putt putting sound.

His bladder twinges, calling to him to get going and relieve it.

The bed sheets are pushed down to his thighs, there is dried crust around his mouth from drool, and head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Next to him, Jackson is curled up on his side with one hand under his pillow, eyes shut and still asleep.

Mark rolls over onto his back and yawns, stretching out with his ankles and toes. He rubs the sleep from his eyes to discover he’s wearing the same clothes as he had on last night. His memories from the night before are hazy at best. I’m never drinking that much again, Mark thinks as his stomach twists for the worse.

Sitting up, Mark searches the room with his eyes to try and find a clock. The best thing he finds is Jackson’s phone sitting on his desk. Mark untangles himself from the bed sheets and stumbles his way over, pushing a button on Jackson’s phone to make the screen activate. Jackson’s phone displays the time as 9:51AM. Clearing his eyes for the second time, Mark decides he might as well stay awake now that he’s up.

His parents are probably wondering if he’s still alive since they weren’t exactly approving of Mark going out to bars where he could get in trouble. The impressive wine collection his parents have makes Mark not take either of them seriously on their frowning. They shouldn’t judge him for wanting to drink in college when they each have a glass of red in their hand.

Jerking upright, Mark pats down his pants pockets, horror driving through his heart like a stake when he can’t find his wallet or his phone. Did he lose them in one of the bars? He has his drivers license, medical cards, money, school ID, and every other bit of important information in there he can think of. Not to mention his phone has all the telephone numbers he needs because he only has his mom’s number committed to memory.

If he lost that, he’s doomed to stay at home until summer. Goodbye Jackson, hello working for his parents to pay for his stupidity. Mark says a quick prayer in hope of finding his things; however, he can’t remain optimistic.

He leans over and bangs his forehead against the desk with the dull thud of bone against wood.

Stupid – thud – dumb – thud – idiot – thud – can’t believe – thud – lost it.

A sleepy groan comes from the bed, causing Mark to stop hitting his head against Jackson’s desk. He turns his head enough to the side to peer at Jackson’s form on the bed with one eye.

Jackson rolls over, his face becoming visible, and scrunches his eyes, mouth wide open in a giant yawn. “Mark?” he says, voice heavy and raspy with sleep. “What’re you doin’?”

The need to pee surges back with a vengeance.

Mark speaks into the desk, “I’m hung over.”

“Me too. . I’ve got a headache from hell,” Jackson says, slapping his face with the palms of his hands. “Coffee. I need coffee.” He sits up, bed sheets falling off his legs onto the floor. “What time is it?”

“Ten…ish.” Mark closes his eyes. “I can’t find my wallet and phone.”

Jackson clears his throat with a loud hacking noise before speaking, “I think it’s in my pants pocket.”

“What?” Mark’s mind draws a blank.

“Yeah,” Jackson continues, “last night I remember you giving me all your stuff to hold onto. I think you were pretty gone by then.”

Cringing, Mark presses down on the desk with his head and lets his arms hand loose at this sides. He recalls almost everything that happened the last night with a healthy dose of excitement and shame. But, did he really have to lift up his shirt to prove a point to JB? When did that become a good idea?

Mark his lips, “Let’s never speak of last night again.”

“Okay.” Jackson yawns again with a deep inhale and exhale. “You want to use the toilet first?”

 M*A*R*K*S*O*N**C*H*U*R*C*H**A*U

“Why are you still wearing your sunglasses?” Jinyoung says, flipping through the restaurant menu. They’re all crammed in a booth next to a window with the shades drawn all the way up to the top.

JB doesn’t look up from his menu, but then again, Mark can’t tell where his eyes are behind his dark shades. “The light hurts my eyes.”

To Mark’s right, Jackson groans, “Your arguing hurts my brain. Just choose something!” He points to something on the menu, “I’m going to get the blueberry pancake platter.”

“Does that come with sausage?” Jinyoung asks. “I want some greasy sausage.”

“It comes with a choice of sausage or bacon. Wait, why are you picking what I’m picking?”

Mark pours himself a cup of coffee; he already decided he’s getting an omelet with some fruit as a side. Breakfast restaurants always seem to have so many combinations of the same types of staples. There are always eggs, sausage, toast, waffles, potatoes, pancakes, and mountains of bacon. He’s not even sure he’s all that hungry, but the lure of butter and grease wafting down his nose overrides whatever his stomach is saying. His stomach doesn’t even know what it wants.

So, Mark thinks, this is what it feels like to go out for hangover food. He’s not really sure he should be out in public looking and feeling as he does, but as they always say, yolo.

“I’m not picking I’m just asking,” Jinyoung snaps back. “I’m going to get what I want. Hey,” – he turns his attention to JB – “what are you getting?”

“A waffle.”

“That’s so boring.”

“A waffle with bacon.”

“You know what would be great right now?” Jackson says. “Tacos. We should get tacos.”

Mark spies their waitress at the table next to them, “Breakfast first Jackson.”

“Okay, but we’re totally getting tacos.”

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I meant to work on this sooner, but then rl and work happened. So yeah. Sorry about that, I will be finishing this crazy thing.
and after a recent come to jesus involving a friend, the er, and drinking too much, pls drink responsibly within your limit. as cool as it might sound as a story, no, just no.
and i was a and deleted the folder i kept the file i was writing this story in so goodbye to what i sort of wrote ahead. so yolo my friends, yolo. jesus is taking the wheel to finish this bad boy.