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Chapter 11

"Annyeong, Eomma."

"JinYoung-ah! How has your day been so far?"

"Long . . . and busy, Eomma. I'm just walking to my car to head back home. What can I do for you?"

"When was the last time you saw MiRa?" Mrs Pak asked bluntly. "I noticed you haven't posted any pictures recently."

JinYoung cringed inwardly. Of course, she'd noticed.

"I've been very busy lately, Eomma. I haven't had much time. I'm sure MiRa understands," he tried.

"I know you are busy, but I hope that you're not neglecting her. Women like MiRa don't come along every day, you know. Why don't you arrange to meet her this evening? Even if it's just for a meal? You have to eat anyway, right?" she pressured.

"I was just going to grab something quick when I got back. Nothing elaborate, Eomma. Hardly a way to spend a date."

"People who like each other are happy doing practically anything together. It's not what you do, it's the company that counts. Why don't you give her a call now and ask her? I'm sure she'd like to see you."

JinYoung closed his eyes tightly in frustration and took a deep—but silent—breath.

"Okay, Eomma."

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

Over the next two weeks, JinYoung, starting with that evening, began to see MiRa again in earnest. It began easily enough: MiRa just stated at the end of their date that she would see him tomorrow; she would bring him something to eat. He protested, but she insisted and as he had no ready excuse, he relented. He was too nice to say 'no'.

Once she'd discovered a tactic that worked, she never failed to use it. As long as the request was reasonable, JinYoung would agree. He didn't want to hurt MiRa's feelings and he felt that if she could summon up enough courage to suggest meeting him, he didn't want to hurt her by rejecting her. As for Mark . . .

He never said a word.

They never fought about JinYoung's going out to see MiRa, because neither of them ever talked about it. JinYoung just thought Mark was being understanding, that he was secure enough in their feelings for one another that he had simply ceased to be jealous. He actually appreciated Mark for not complaining about the situation. Perhaps he finally understood that this was the best way for JinYoung to please everybody.

But although Mark did understand, he had resigned himself, thinking: There is no reason to fight. This will never end.

In a way, JinYoung was right: Mark had decided to silently accept the situation, but not just for JinYoung's sake; also for his own. He didn't want to argue anymore. There was no reason to. He had finally realized that nothing was ever really going to change: JinYoung would continue to see MiRa in order to please his parents and Mark would be always sitting on the outside looking in. He didn't know how long he could do that, but at the moment, that was all he felt he could do. He didn't know in which direction to move, so he decided that he would stand still until it was clear what he should do. He'd decided to give JinYoung the space he needed to reach his own decision about what was going on. Mark had decided that until he did, all he could do was wait. He would wait for his dearest love to see for himself how futile this was. He would wait for the man he had loved so deeply for so many years to come to his senses and end all this. He would wait for JinYoung.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

"Yeoboseyo?"

"Hello, YoungJae."

It was his voice.

"JaeBum-Hyung . . ."

When they had finally got around to exchanging information after Jackson and GaYeon's engagement party—at Fei's insistence—YoungJae had hoped that his beloved hyung hadn't simply done so out of politeness. He'd hoped that he would actually get in touch.

And now he had.

They engaged in a bit of small talk, sometimes smoothly, sometimes awkwardly until, after one particularly painful awkward silence, JaeBum finally got to the purpose of his call.

"Are you still singing, YoungJae-ah?"

"Only in the shower . . . and in the occasional karaoke room. I don't have much time for that anymore," YoungJae said ruefully.

"Oh."

YoungJae had made his decision not to pursue singing years ago. He wanted to do something that was more stable and reliable.

It seemed that he'd not changed his mind over the years, JaeBum thought sadly. "I was sort of hoping you might want to make time for it. You were the best out of all of us."

"No, Hyung, I wasn't . . ."

"You were. Everyone knew that but you. You just never had enough confidence in yourself to believe it. You used to love singing so much you used to even sing in your sleep. . . . you used to love singing so much . . . " he ended regretfully.

"I also love sleeping under a roof and taking regular meals, hyung."

"Yeah, I got that when I heard you'd taken that job with that company. You should have come with me and applied to be a studio musician. I've worked with a lot of people over the years, but I've never come across anyone better than you."

YoungJae didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't been complimented on his singing for years. He felt his face and ears getting warm with shy embarrassment.

"Anyway, I didn't just phone you up to pay you compliments. This is actually a business call."

A business call?

YoungJae felt disappointed. A part deep inside him had hoped that JaeBum just wanted to talk to him . . .  just because. Or maybe, perhaps, maybe, because he . . . missed him.

But, no. It was just a business call. As always, it was clear that JaeBum-Hyung hadn't felt anything for him for years. If he had ever felt anything in the first place . . .

YoungJae was beginning to think that he had imagined that kiss on the neck. Maybe he'd actually made it up in his own mind because he'd wanted something like that to happen so much.

"Youngie-ah? Are you still there?"

"Y-yes, Hyung. I'm still here. What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"I was asking if you might be interested in a job here in the studio," JaeBum repeated.

"What?"

"Here. In the studio. With me. Just like the old days..."

"What? How?"

JaeBum chuckled. "They're looking for someone and I told them I knew a great singer. You have an audition and interview if you want it. Are you interested?"

Was he interested? Working in a studio? With JaeBum?

Of course he was interested!

"I promise, you won't be a starving musician, YoungJae-ah. The pay for studio musicians is good. Just come in and do what you always did. Show them what you've got."

He would. He would show them what he's got!

But, what did he have? After all these years . . . honestly?

"Hyung, I haven't sung properly since the club at university. I don't know if I can still do it," YoungJae admitted dismally.

"Just come here a couple days early and we'll run through some exercises. A voice like yours doesn't just disappear," JaeBum reassured him. "Please, YoungJae-ah. Say 'yes'. I know you like being with Mark and JinYoung, but . . ." JaeBum was afraid to go on, but he had to ask, "wouldn't you . . . like to be with me?"

YoungJae's heart thumped hard in response.

Trip-bang!

"Of course, Hyung," YoungJae replied softly.

Nothing would make me happier, Hyung . . .

"Then promise me you'll come here and try. I know that all you just need a little bit of practice. You could never lose that talent, YoungJae. I'll be right next to you. I'll help you. Please come . . ." JaeBum asked.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

"Mark-Hyung . . . " YoungJae began as he phoned his friend and employer to tell him about the chance he thought would never come . . .

Later, that night as YoungJae snuggled down beneath his covers, he drifted gently off to sleep with his final thoughts being the fantasy of a new life that perhaps awaited him in Seoul.

He thought about being able to sing again.

He thought of the face of his beloved hyung, JaeBum.

And he smiled.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

Movie dates were the best.

You could just look at the screen and not interact at all. Afterwards, even if you went out for a snack or a drink together, you could just fill up the conversation with what happened in the movie, cleverly avoiding any uncomfortable, personal subjects.

That's what JinYoung thought when he and MiRa went to the movies that night.

But MiRa thought otherwise.

Emboldened by Mrs Pak's clear support of her and of their relationship, MiRa reached shyly for JinYoung's hand. He was somewhat shocked when he felt her fingers lace through his and her lean her head on his shoulder, but he didn't know how to pull away without seeming rude. It was a strange thing for her to do, but then again, was it really that strange? He had laced fingers and even snuggled with many of his good friends over the years: platonic, physical affection was something he actually really enjoyed. Wasn't MiRa his friend?

Maybe it wasn't so strange after all.

After the movie, they went to get warm drinks. After JinYoung ordered at the counter, MiRa quickly added, "to go, please."

"To go?" he asked, raising his eyebrow in question.

But she just held his arm and smiled.

As they left the café, he asked, "did you want to drink these in the car?"

"No, silly! I thought we could stop by the park. You know, the one on the way to my house? It would be nicer to have our drinks there, I thought. It's a clear night tonight. It would be nice to sit outside for a little while."

They both got into the car and drove without a word between them. JinYoung kept his eyes focused on the road as MiRa fiddled with the radio. Just sitting next to him as he drove made her feel happy. Because he was so focused on the road, she could secretly steal glances at his beautiful profile. The shape of his eye. His nose. His chin. His jawline.

His lips . . .

Once they'd arrived, they both stepped out of the car. He didn't open the door for her. He never had. They each picked up their own drinks and walked across the grass.

Sipping their drinks, the two sat on a park bench under the light of the moon.

Their thoughts were as distant from one another as north is to south.

"I wonder if Mark is looking at the moon right now," JinYoung thought. "I wish he were here with me right now."

MiRa set her drink down and snuggled close to JinYoung, enjoying the nearness of him and his warmth, but JinYoung hardly noticed. His thoughts were with Mark.

After sitting together for a while, lost in their own thoughts, MiRa asked, "Why have you never tried to kiss me, Oppa?"

"Kiss you? Why should I do that? We're friends."

MiRa turned to him and looked him full in the face. "Well . . . the thing is . . . it's just that . . . I've really started to like you, Oppa," MiRa confessed.

JinYoung felt his ears heat up. He never expected anything like this from MiRa.

" . . . and I think you like me too. Don't you, Oppa?" MiRa asked.

"I . . . of course, I like you. We're friends," JinYoung attempted. He couldn't let MiRa know about Mark, so what reason could he give for not being interested in her? She was really lovely; JinYoung had said so himself on many occasions. He had to come up with something plausible. And quick!

"I'm not a very fast mover. I really like to get to know someone well, before I move on to something physical," he explained.

"I don't think anyone would think that if you kissed me at this point, that that would be fast, Oppa," MiRa countered. "We've been on more dates than I can count. And, I thought we've been getting close. No one would think kissing now would be fast . . . "

I can think of one person who would think it was not only fast but unforgivable . . .

"Don't you like me, Oppa?"

"I've already said . . . "

"Do you think I'm ugly?" MiRa asked, confused.

"Of course you're not ugly . . . "

" . . . then why? There has to be a reason . . . . Don't you think of me as a woman?"

"Of course I think of you as a woman? What else should I think of you as? I just . . . "

"Then . . . " MiRa said. And then suddenly she leaned and kissed him. JinYoung didn't know what to do. If he pushed her away, she might think . . .

So, as she held the back of his neck gently, moving her lips over his, he didn't make a move to stop the kiss.

As her lips drew away from his and she embraced him tenderly, she whispered softly in his ear, "I love you, Oppa. Please love me, too . . .".

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

When JinYoung came home that night, Mark was still awake. He was reclining on the sofa with a book, waiting . . . just waiting . . .

As he looked up from his book, and greeted his lover, JinYoung looked at him sheepishly, and Mark could tell that something was wrong. However, he wouldn't ask. He would wait for JinYoung to talk to him about whatever it was.

That night, JinYoung didn't kiss Mark 'hello'. In fact, he didn't come within 10 metres of him, or even look him in the eye. He simply slipped off his shoes and announced, "I'm going to go get washed up," before fairly dashing down the hall.

Mark started feeling . . . troubled. JinYoung had never acted that way before. His heart started to pound with fear. Thoughts were flying around in his head; scenarios that he hoped could never happen, but was afraid had.

So, while the man he loved was in the shower, doing his best to wash away the events of the night, Mark, quaking inwardly, headed toward JinYoung's room.

The clothes he had worn that evening were strewn on his bed as if he had taken them off in a hurry. Mark didn't want to enter that room. He didn't want to know what he thought he already knew. But, he couldn't stop himself. JinYoung and he had never had secrets. They had never hidden anything from each other. Tonight was the first time in all their time together that JinYoung had looked guilty of something. He was so inexperienced, he was no good at hiding it, so Mark knew it had to be something big.

There was only one thing that JinYoung could be hiding from Mark that he would think was bad enough not to confide in his partner about, and it was that thought that was in the forefront of Mark's thoughts as he entered the bedroom.

The walk from the threshold to the bed felt so long. Mark dragged himself across the floor, needing, yet not wanting to confirm his suspicions. But, he had to.

He ran his fingers slowly across JinYoung's shirt before he picked it up. Before he'd raised it close to his face, he already smelled a scent on it that was not JinYoung's.

It was a woman's.

On the shoulder was the slight, almost imperceptible tinge of makeup. And, on the collar were faint traces of a pink colour.

MiRa's lipstick.

Mark, shocked and shaking, slowly replaced the shirt to its place on the bed and walked, with a heavy emptiness back across the threshold.

He went to his room and locked the door behind him.

He with trembling fingers he hit a number on his speed dial.

Then, many hours later, just before daybreak, after having spent most of the night packing, Mark moved out.

MarkJin. . . T_T

. . .