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Here is the new chapter: just short of 4,000 words. Hope you like it. If so, as per usual, please don't forget to COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE and UPVOTE. And did I mention 'COMMENT'? Thanks!  (*^_^)

Chapter 27

His mother was horrified.

His appearance was shocking. What was wrong? What could have happened? Only a few days ago he was fine. He was ashamed about what he had done—and rightly so, she thought—and was a little defensive, but for the most part, he was the same JinYoung.

Now, as he shuffled across the floor after letting his mother in, she hardly recognised him. What could have changed him so starkly in such a short time? He even looked as though he'd lost weight. Hadn't he been eating?

"JinYoung-ah," she whispered, alarmed.

"Umma," he answered looking at her. There was a . . . a tired desperation in his eyes.

His mother stepped forward and hugged him.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" she asked holding him.

He pulled back and smiled at her wearily, "Nothing, Umma. I'm just a little unwell, that's all."

She took his hand and they both walked over to the sofa. He collapsed on it heavily.

What could it be? Why hadn't he phoned her if he was having trouble? She could remember when she was his shoulder to cry on; when he would talk to her because he knew that she was always there to listen. Why had he stopped confiding in her? What had changed?

"Is it MiRa? Have you two talked? Has something happened with her? To the baby?" she asked concernedly. The only thing Mrs Pak could imagine changing someone so utterly within such a short period of time would be something happening to someone he loved, and that someone, as far as she knew, was MiRa. Or if something were to happen to his child. Because those two relationships were the only ones that she could comprehend being strong enough to cause this sort of pain. Those were the only ones she thought could hurt her son this much.

"We talked, Umma. Nothing's wrong with her. Or . . . the baby . . . We're . . . we're getting married."

"Oh, JinYoung! That's wonderful!" his mother exclaimed hugging him. She then kissed his cheek affectionately and held his face in her hands.

"My good boy . . . my good son . . . I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed again and then hugged him again.

He must have just picked up a bug . . . that's what it must be, she thought to herself, now relieved.

Now that it was clear that MiRa and the baby were okay, there was nothing else that she could imagine that could cause JinYoung such distress, so the only answer could be some physical ailment. And that she could set about taking care of.

"I've brought some soup, rice, kimchi and a whole host of side dishes. I'll heat them up and be right back. You just stay here and rest," she said cheerfully.

She placed the food on the kitchen counter and began to unpack it while calling to him in the front room.

"JinYoung-ah, I'll be finished in a few minutes. Umma is hurrying."

JinYoung was too weak and to be honest, feeling too dispirited, to answer.

Very shortly, Mrs Pak was carrying a tray of steaming food to the table.

"Can you sit up at the table to eat? Or do you feel too weak?" she asked.

"No, I'm alright. I'll come to the table," he answered.

As she watched him shuffle frailly to the table, she felt alarm rising in her again, but she comforted herself saying, once he gets this food into him, he'll start to mend. He's just weak from hunger. Why didn't he call us or MiRa if he didn't have anything to eat?

"You should let someone know if you're too ill to prepare something to eat. Now that you have a fiancée, you have to learn to lean on each other at times like these."

"Yes, Umma," he answered dutifully.

JinYoung lifted the spoonful of soup to his lips, but before he could spoon the contents into his mouth, half of it spilled back into the bowl due to his hand shaking.

"You're so weak, JinYoung. Here, let Umma help you."

His mother helped him sip some soup and then offered him some rice, but he seemed unable to chew it.

"I don't want anymore, thank you, Umma."

"But you've hardly eaten anything at all, JinYoung. You have to regain your strength so you can fight this illness."

"Could I please just have some water?" he asked.

She rose immediately and returned with the water, which he downed in no time.

"Please try to eat a little more, JinYoung. Your stomach has just shrunk from lack of food. Just try a little more."

He tried, for his mother's sake, but after another two spoonfuls of soup, he thought it was altogether possible that he wouldn't be able to keep another morsel down.

"I can't eat anymore, Umma," he said, "I really can't."

"That's alright, Jinyoung-ah. We can try a bit later."

"I have to lie down now."

"Okay," she said and helped him to the bedroom.

Because he knew that his mother was coming over, he'd packed away all of the letters and pictures of Mark that had been both comforting and torturing him. They both went to 'his' room.

"You're still using this room?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. "I thought you would have moved into the larger bedroom now that . . . now that you're living alone." She pulled back the covers and helped him into bed. Then she fetched him a carafe of fresh water and a glass and set them on his bedside table. When he was settled into bed, she sat down and took a close look at her son. His eyes were closed, but she could still clearly see the deep, dark circles under his eyes. He looked so helpless lying there in this state. It reminded her of when he was a little boy and was sick. She was all he'd needed back then.

But somehow, it didn't feel the same. It didn't feel as though she was the one he needed now.

"Do you want me to phone MiRa?" she asked.

"No," he groaned.

"I'm sure she . . . "

"Please, Umma . . . no . . . "

She then sat quietly at his side, the hair which had fallen carelessly across his forehead and once he was asleep, she rose, collected her things and left him in peace.

*                               *                                *                                *                                *

If this had been a real fight, Jackson would have absolutely wiped-up the floor with him. They were basically only swiping and tapping in their training for balance, reflexes, timing and endurance, but Mark didn't seem to see anything coming.

"Let's just stop," Jackson said.

"Why? I'm okay, I can keep going," Mark rejoined.

"Are you kidding? If this were a real fight, you'd have had severed brain damage and internal bleeding by now. You aren't here, Mark. You're distracted. Let's just stop."

"Can I work with the bag at least? I've got to keep going, Jackson. Please."

"It's all yours. Just come and see me when you're done," he said and then he stepped out of the ring.

Mark left the ring and went over to one of the large suspended punching bags. He struck the bag hard, forgetting his technique and immediately winced from the ensuing smart. He hit the bag again, this time the right way and then again, again and again. He stood punching that bad without a break before Jackson came up to him.

"That's enough. Hit the showers and then we're going," he ordered.

"No, I want to . . . "

"Okay, I can see it's time to pull rank. This is my training centre and I'm saying it's time for you to go," Jackson insisted.  "And I'm going with you," he added kindly.

Mark leaned against the bag, breathing heavily. "Why are you doing this? I need to work out."

Jackson wrapped one arm around the bag steadying it while he held Mark's shoulder with the other.

"You need something, but wracking up pain for yourself isn't it. You know that too much training, especially with the wrong mindset is just as bad as not enough. Now, please, just get into the shower and when you're finished getting ready, I'll meet you out front. Trust me," Jackson smiled sliding his hand from Mark's shoulder to the back of his neck. Mark looked into his eyes, seeing the honest concern and smiled a very brief smile.

"Okay, tyrant. I'll meet you out front," he said. Then he walked to the locker room.

The time Mark spent getting ready was a mixture of happiness and torment for him. As he'd suspected, once he'd stopped working out, his brain was flooded with JinYoung. In all these days, he'd heard not one word from him. All he had now were memories. He looked at the locker JinYoung had used when he'd come with him to train. It was directly beside Mark's, just like the first locker at the dance studio had been where they first met. He remembered how JinYoung had walked in bragging what a cakewalk MMA training would be for him.

"You know I've always been good at anything to do with my body," he'd bragged, with a touch of flirt added just for Mark.

But then, afterwards, he had been completely shattered. Then, came the shower, the massage, then . . .

Mark smiled as he recalled.

JinYoung never gave up. He continued going with Mark to session after session.

And the sessions seemed to have the most uncanny effect on him. Mark had thought the first time was a fluke, but instead of feeling worn-out and sleepy, the training only seemed to make him feel . . .

 . . . touch me, Mark . . . he breathed as he slid his hands over his lover's body, kissing him repeatedly with increasing urgency. Their breaths both striking hard and fast on each other's skin as their bodies writhed and danced in ecstasy. JinYoung was a mixture of mewling submission and followed by aggression. His body thrashed under Mark's ministrations before he would flip him and descend upon him with hands, lips and tongue. He wanted it both fast and slow. Hard and smooth. But one thing remained the same. Whenever they would lock eyes, Mark would feel the sensation similar to that of being suddenly yanked up as though he'd opened his parachute during free fall. And judging by the look in his eyes and the response of his body, JinYoung felt the same.

With JinYoung the before, the during and the after were each just as wonderful for Mark. The warm build-up of intense heat; the rhythmic movements of need between them, and then the tender, light touches of love and affection which followed once they'd ended. Each moment carried its own treasure that they shared with each other again and again. Mark had never felt anything like this at any other time in his life. But ever since their 'reconciliation' in Seoul, alongside this wondrous exhilaration, he'd always felt a feeling of . . . fear.

And now, as he waited, that was all he had left. The fear.

After he'd poured the soju, and downed it, Jackson looked Mark in the eye and said, "now tell me. What's going on?"

"He hasn't been in touch. That's all," Mark said as he refilled their shot glasses.

"What, not at all?" Jackson asked in disbelief.

"Not a word."

Jackson ran his hand through his hair. This didn't sound good. Almost from the minute JinYoung had landed, he and Mark had been attached to each other's sides. That he suddenly left was one thing. But not to be in touch . . . at all?

Then he had a horrible thought.

That woman. The woman from the engagement party. The one JinYoung had played that farce with in front of his parents. It couldn't have anything to do with her . . . could it? But JinYoung loved Mark. That was clear every time Jackson had seen them. It couldn't be her. It had do be something else. But what?

"He hasn't answered any of your calls or texts?" Jackson asked.

"I . . . haven't sent any . . . and I haven't called," Mark admitted.

This was getting to be too much for Jackson. He could only think: If it had been GaYeon . . . I would have . . .

"You haven't . . . but why?"

"He asked me not to. Before he left."

"Before? But . . . " Jackson shook his head. "I don't get it."

"I don't get it, either, to be honest," Mark admitted.

"Why don't you just call him anyway? Or at least text him? It doesn't matter what he asked you to do. Don't just let it go like that," Jackson insisted.

"Are you forgetting? He was the one who came to me, Jackson," Mark replied angrily. "I was the one who left— without much of a fight from him, actually—and then after months he just showed up. It didn't make sense to me at the time why he would just show up like that out of nowhere, but just as he appeared, he's disappeared. I don't know why I should be surprised. If anyone's letting it go, it's him."

Mark had changed from being sad and wistful to exasperated. As he and Jackson drank together, it came to Mark's mind that JinYoung had never given him a complete answer as to why, at that particular time, he had suddenly decided to come to Seoul to see him, to tell him he loved him and ask for another chance. Now, after not having heard from him at all, Mark was beginning to wonder why he'd even come there in the first place if he'd had no intention of staying.

"I know all that," Jackson said, "it seemed strange to me at the time, too, but I just figured he'd had enough of what his life had turned into. Like he woke up or something. I know that if I'd been stupid enough to let GaYeon go, I'd soon wake up."

"Well, now maybe I should wake up, too," Mark said, in a wounded voice. "Why hasn't he been in touch? Why am I always the one who has to worry, or initiate, or be hurt, for that matter? Practically the minute he told me he wanted us to be back together, I just did it. When we were together before, and I'd asked him to stop seeing MiRa, he just gave me excuse after excuse: he didn't care how I felt. I feel like that's happening all over again. He just told me he couldn't be in touch for a couple of days and promised to come back. No explanations as to why. Not about why he had to leave, not about why we couldn't even be in touch. I'm beginning to feel like a fool, Jackson."

Jackson was starting to get worried. This didn't sound like Mark. When it came to JinYoung, he'd always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt; always believed in him. It sounded strange to Jackson's ears to hear him talk like this. It was extremely worrying.

"Mark, I just hope you don't make any hasty decisions. Just get in touch with him . . .  or wait for him to get in touch with you, if you like. But you two really need to talk before you make any moves," Jackson advised.

"I won't be getting in touch with him," Mark said resolutely. "Let him contact me if he wants to, but I'm not going to run after him, especially after he asked me not to. I just hope that if he does get in touch . . .

" . . . when he gets in touch . . ." Jackson added.

" . . . when, then . . . I hope he has an explanation I can live with," Mark said.

Jackson wanted to comfort his friend. Maybe if he spent more time with him, talking about something other than JinYoung, he might be able to cheer him up.

"What are you doing tomorrow night? Maybe we can . . . " Jackson began.

"I'm busy tomorrow night," Mark interrupted. "I'm going to a movie with HimChan."

"Oh . . . how is he these days?" Jackson asked.

"Fine."

"You two've been spending a lot of time together?"

"Yeah. You know, it may sound funny but, I really don't know how I would have made it through this far without him. I know it hasn't been long to anyone else, but for me it's felt like forever since JinYoung left. Every minute was torturing me, waiting for him to get in touch. But with HimChan around, it isn't so bad. At first it was only just bearable, when we would hang out, but now it's getting better and better. We've spent almost every day together since . . . since all this happened. It's nice to have someone around who really seems to understand how I feel."

Jackson was happy that Mark had someone to talk to . . . someone who could help him feel better during this ordeal, but, even he had noticed how stunning HimChan was. Add nice, friendly supportive, fun and understanding to that and . . . well . . . there could be trouble . . .

"HimChan's single, isn't he?" Jackson enquired.

"Yes, thankfully," Mark replied.

"Thankfully? Why thankfully?"

"Because, if he had a partner, they probably wouldn't understand all the time we spend together. They'd probably be jealous or something," Mark said.

"Would they have anything to feel jealous about?" Jackson asked carefully.

"No . . . of course not. But you know how that is. Nothing has to be going on for someone to feel jealous. Anyway, I'm glad we don't have that sort of complication. It's nice having a friend who can be around without a problem."

"Hey! I can be around without a problem," Jackson stated.

"Yeah, any time day or night? I get my kicked enough by GaYeon in the gym. I don't want her to kick it anywhere else, thank you."

"Okay, maybe not anytime day or night, but I don't mind taking a shift or two in the 'watch-with-Mark vigil. You don't just have HimChan, you know. You've got me, too. And JaeBum and YoungJae and . . . "

"Thanks, Jackson. I know. I really appreciate all of you guys. But right now, I must admit, I really feel comfortable with HimChan."

"Not too comfortable, I hope." Jackson insinuated.

"No . . . not too comfortable," Mark smiled, catching Jackson's meaning. Then he called to the waiter for another round.

*                              *                              *                              *                              *

Later that night, as Mark readied himself for bed, still feeling a slight buzz from the alcohol he'd imbibed, he couldn't help but think the thoughts that always dominated his mind when he was alone.

Thoughts of JinYoung.

Mark wasn't angry anymore. He just missed him so much. Ever since he'd left to go back to Escape, Mark had gone through several phases every day: sad...angry...wistful...despondent...exasperated...pining...depressed...hoping...doubting...wishing...yearning...despair and many other incomplete shreds of emotions and thoughts swirling within him.

And right now, as earlier, he was frightened.

He was so afraid of losing JinYoung. Mark had hoped that he would stop him from leaving in the first place, but he hadn't. Then, he'd hoped he would come after him and when weeks had turned into months and he hadn't, Mark had led a new life without him. But, he'd never really stopped hoping that they would somehow find their way to each other again. After everything they'd shared together, it was unthinkable to Mark that they wouldn't ever be together again. He just thought JinYoung needed more time to figure out what he really wanted to do. Mark had been prepared to wait months, maybe years even, if need be. He had never felt about anyone the way he'd felt about JinYoung and he could never imagine loving someone that much again.

But now a question was looming before him: what would he do if JinYoung never came back?

But as quickly as it had arisen, he had quashed it. That was a thought he couldn't even entertain.

So, once he'd readied himself for bed and slid underneath the duvet, he checked his phone once more for messages.

But, again, there were none.

He plugged his phone in to recharge and lay it next to him on his bedside table.

His last thought was 'JinYoung-ah' before he slipped off to sleep.

 *                              *                               *                               *                               *

"But he was fine a few days ago. Now he's so ill that you had to bring him something to eat?" Mr Pak asked.

Mrs Pak had intended to keep JinYoung's illness away from her husband, but when he arrived home before she did, she was unable to give any other explanation than the truth. She also reasoned that if anything happened to JinYoung's health and his father found out that she'd kept it from him, he might never forgive her. JinYoung was the apple of his father's eye. She couldn't risk not letting him know.

"He's just a little weak. He'll be better soon," she assured him. Then she added in a perky voice, "he told me that he and MiRa will be getting married soon."

Mr Pak was shocked at the news.

"When did this happen?"

"I think they talked the night he got back. I think they decided then," Mrs Pak answered.

"So quickly? I thought she was angry about his having gone to Seoul."

"What gave you that idea? Anyway, that's what they've decided."

"They can't decide anything until he's asked her parents for permission. He hasn't done that yet, has he? He wouldn't do that without telling us first," Mr Pak wondered, with the slight sting of hurt in his voice.

"No, he hasn't asked yet, but as long as they've decided between themselves, there shouldn't be a problem. They're both old enough and MiRa's parents like our JinYoung," Mrs Pak said. "I look forward to being in-laws. They're such nice people," she said, her eyes shining.

Mr Pak wasn't so sure about that. At least, he was sure that that wasn't his wife's reason for being so happy. She was happy that he would be marrying into such a powerful family. She had spent so much of her life worrying about JinYoung, hoping that he would be fixed and stable. That's what she thought brought happiness. And, Mr Pak couldn't deny that to him, that was a big part of happiness. But that wasn't everything.

All he hoped was that JinYoung was going to be really happy. That he really loved MiRa. But he had his doubts. Why had he never mentioned marriage to his parents before he decided? Why so much of a rush once he'd returned from Seoul? And why did he go to Seoul in the first place without a word to anyone?

All of these developments seemed fishy to Mr Pak.

That night, Mr Pak decided quite on his own that he would go and see for himself how his son was doing. And they would talk. Just the two of them.

He had some questions he needed to have answered before this spontaneously-planned marriage moved ahead. There were some things that he was curious about.

He would see JinYoung and get to the bottom of it all.

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