Mark knows he isn’t the strongest person. Not physically – definitely not, unless the meagre strength (which is yet to be unleashed) in his under-developed muscles count – and sadly, not mentally either. People around him often looked at him in admiration, lips pressed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration as they listened to his ‘exciting’ life story. It only sounds exciting because he made it so. Well, he may have snuck in a lie or two, about how he had always wanted to pursue his singing career in South Korea and how he so gloriously decided to give up on all he had back at home.

For one, he can’t sing for nuts – he ‘raps’. He was, and definitely still is not talented in it (he got into a huge fight with his friends back in Los Angeles as they mocked him, saying his rapping was as good as a baby whining). Apparently, for God knows what reason, the casting team saw potential in him and decided to take him based on his ‘good looks’. He was, hence, when he finally settled in JYP Entertainment as a trainee, deemed as just a pretty face.

Secondly, pursuing a singing career in a foreign country was never on his wish list. He auditioned because he wanted to find an excuse to skip his English Literature test – fare thee well, and God have mercy upon his soul. It was simply an attempted escapade from the stress he was facing at school; yet, little did he know he would have been accepted. Little did he know, his hatred for studying back then was so strong, it propelled him all the way to South Korea, leaving his studies (oh thank God), friends and family behind. When he told his family about his plans to become a trainee in Korea, his father’s eyes had widened in disbelief. He even placed his palm on Mark’s forehead and exclaimed dramatically, “What horrid fever has attacked my son?!”

It has been two years since then, and Mark’s ‘fever’ hasn’t subsided. Until today, he still wonders why he made such a decision. He wonders where his parents even found the courage and faith in him to send him to a foreign land with foreign faces and a foreign language, six thousand miles away.

Had his parents think that he was not cut out for academic studies? Had his parents genuinely feel that their son could somehow make it out there? He was just an average – or below average – boy, with results that could barely promote him to the next grade, with a speaking ability so weak he stutters and messes up his pronunciation even when asked to simply introduce himself, and with zilch to nada willpower.

For someone who’d rather succumb to sleep and give up on revision for his promotional examinations, competing with a pack of passion-filled tigers to earn his bacon is not an easy task. While Mark’s presence is equivocal, the other JYP trainees’ are the complete opposite. They are talented, confident and determined, eyes set on their final goal – to debut.

Mark feels like a helium balloon without an owner, floating aimlessly. It doesn’t sound that bad, as everyone loves a pretty ornament, but he feels that this ornament is not here to stay. He is losing gas, fast.

He sighs as he picks up the piece of paper with lyrics he has to memorise before their next test – yes, test. He was so wrong to believe that he had bid goodbye to tests and examinations in the States. The weekly tests to ensure the trainees’ standards are far worse than a stupid English Literature test. At least he could’ve attempted a couple of seemingly logical but unsubstantial sentences in the latter. Performing in front of the voice and dance instructors, who constantly get annoyed as Mark has inconveniently still not mastered the Korean language, is a hundred times – no, cut that, it was a billion times more stressful than the damn Literature test he should’ve taken.

If he were in a game of Pokémon, he would be the poor trainer stuck in a cave, with all his Pokémons running low on HP, and without an escape rope. Fighting through these tests is the only way out, and he can only hope to survive them or he’ll be stranded on the cold streets of Korea.

Mark starts to practise, wincing in pain as he clears his throat that is sore from hours of practice the day before. Word by word, he practises, but it just doesn’t seem right. He sounds as good as a toddler with a grandfather’s voice, hoarse (not in a good way) and with unclear enunciation. No flow, no groove, and definitely no swag.

He takes a deep breath and flips the lyrics sheet over such that it is facing down. I cannot get the flow because I don’t know the words well enough. I should memorise the lyrics first. But in less than a minute, he starts to doubt his ability to pull the song off. Two lines in and he forgets the third, memorise the third and he forgets the first. The chance of him passing this upcoming test is as high as the possibility of the rebirth of dinosaurs.

Mark groans and let his head fall back against the couch, only to hit the hard wall with the back of his head. He flinches as the pain seared through his skull. Great, now the pathetic three lines of lyrics painstakingly memorised got knocked out.

It’s official. He hates the Korean language. He doesn’t get the combinations of lines and circles, and he doesn’t get the slight differences in pronunciations that make his words mean completely different things. What makes it worse is the complicated system of speech levels in the language. He has lost count of the number of glares and irritated expressions he received from his peers and the seniors for not using proper honorifics.

He can claim that learning a foreign language is difficult, but to everyone else in the company, it is no excuse. Jackson, his roommate, joined the company a year after him and could already speak acceptable Korean in barely a year. What shames Mark the most is Bambam. The Thai boy, a few years Mark’s junior, joined the company at the same time as him, and has already mastered the language. Mark can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy when he sees the young boy communicating well with his noona and hyung instructors, laughing as they crack jokes that Mark can hardly understand. He just hopes they weren’t laughing at him.

Jackson was a national fencer of the Hong Kong fencing team and was ranked 11th in the 2010 Summer Youth Olympics, eventually winning first place at the Asian Junior and Cadet Fencing Championship in 2011. He made a brave and admirable decision to give up his already resplendent fencing career to pursue his second dream, to become a rapper. 

He achieved his first dream and is already on his way to his second, whereas Mark has no dreams.

Bambam knew right from the start that he wanted to become a singer in Korea, having auditioned at the tender of age of 10 (and he actually got accepted but had to join the company later because he was too young). Also, that boy already has his very own KFC commercial and he’s just a kid!

Meanwhile, Mark was still watching Spongebob Squarepants on the kids channel even after he got into high school.

He stares at the lyrics sheet, watching the words deform into undecipherable squiggles dancing right in front of his eyes. Maybe, if he stares hard enough, the lyrics will diffuse into his head.

Well, it obviously doesn’t work like that, as Mark reaches the peak of his frustration. “URGHHHHHHHH!” he screams, and his heart hurts further when all he hears is the echo of his helpless cry, reverberating against the walls of the empty dormitory, making his head ring with the cruel reminder that he is more alone than ever.

Sure, he has his friends – his dorm mates, but Mark is socially awkward. He doesn’t know how to express his emotions, his thoughts. When he was eight, he peed in his pants because he didn’t dare to ask his teacher for permission to go to the toilet. Also, it took him an entire month of rehearsing what to say to his family when he finally found out and accepted his own uality. He was mentally prepared to receive a blow on his face by his father, the lash of his mother’s acid tongue, and his siblings’ looks of horror and disgust. However, all that mental preparation and rehearsals had gone to waste.

“What did you say you needed to tell me?” Papa Tuan looked at Mark expectantly. The long silence garnered the entire family’s attention, their curious eyes questioning him. Mark averted their gazes and took a deep breath. “Nothing… I forgot what I wanted to say,” he muttered.

He had chickened out (he’d like to think such cowardice was solely because he was born in the Year of the ), and until today, they never found out.  

As though his reserved personality hasn’t caused him to feel awkward enough with a group of people coming from different backgrounds as him, his inescapable attraction towards guys often create uncomfortable situations. Well, he cannot deny that he is a teenager with raging hormones living with five other attractive dudes – who often, and very unnecessarily walk around shirtless – under the same roof. 

What aggravates the situation is the language barrier caused by his weak command of Korean. Except for the foreign trainees, the others often only could make small talk with him. “Hello.” “Have you eaten?” “How’s practice?” Surely their friendship cannot flourish, let alone the possibility of them accepting his ual orientation in a conservative country as Korea (yet another reason why coming to Korea was the worst decision in his life). There are so many factors and only one outcome: he is lonely.

Now, all he wants is some help with the lyrics. All he wants is someone to be beside him, someone to guide him along, and someone to tell him that it’s okay to fail because that person would be there to catch him when he falls.

The sound of metal keys clinking and the click with the turn of the doorknob brightens Mark’s face slightly. Soon, he hears the shuffling of feet and the muffled voices in a distance, approaching him. The five boys, all with exhausted expressions, sweat-stained skin and tousled hair drag their feet across the living room to get to the kitchen, dumping the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter as they walk past it.

To Mark’s knowledge, Jaebum and Jinyoung had their practice for their debut stage earlier today. They are the first of the entire dorm to receive news of debuting, as a duo named JJ Project, and while he feels ecstatic for the two, he cannot help but be envious of their opportunity. On the other hand, Jackson, Bambam and Yugyeom were confirmed to be in the same boy group a month ago, and also had a dance practice session together in the morning. All of his dorm mates have bright prospects, and Mark is still struggling to even exist.

Herein lies the biggest irony of all: Mark is the eldest.

Yes, being the eldest and yet, the only one who is still nothing but a useless trainee. Whether he will eventually debut is still a question, but deep inside him, he knows the chances are low. When the trainees younger than you get recognised and you’re still ignored, you know it’s just a matter of time before you will get kicked out of the company.

He needs to pass the next test before his worst nightmare comes true.

Gingerly, Mark gets onto his feet and approaches the boys. “Uhm guys,” he attempts to get their attention.

“Oh hi Mark, you’re at home.” Jaebum looks up and meets his eyes. Mark gulps, shifting his gaze away from Jaebum’s fierce eyes. His strong features and stern voice doesn’t make Mark feel any better. If looks could kill, he would have withered right there and then. “Hi…” he mumbled in return, looking at his feet awkwardly.

Before he can regain enough energy and courage to ask him for help with the lyrics, Jaebum let out a loud yawn and stretches his back, saying not another word before shuffling to his room that he shares with Jinyoung.

Mark feels crestfallen, but quickly turns to the others who seem to be preparing to leave as well. He taps his roommate on his shoulder. “Jackson, can you help me with–”

“Sorry Mark, you can ask me anything but not now, alright? I want to take a shower.” Jackson interrupts and looks at Mark apologetically for less than a second, then turns to the maknaes with a huge grin. “Who wants to shower with the most awesome hyung?” he shouts as he pulls the small-sized Thai and the other overgrown maknae down in headlock, one per arm, and drags them to the bathroom despite them struggling for their dear lives to escape from Jackson’s evil plans.

“Ewwww hyung! Don’t throw your underwear on my head!” Bambam’s shriek of disgust can be heard through the bathroom door, shortly followed by Yugyeom pretending to vomit and Jackson’s notorious hyena laughter.

As the boys immerse in the joy of having fun, splashing water at each other after a day of hard work, Mark turns to face the remaining boy. Jinyoung stands in front of him, one leg crossing over the other, scratching his head as he scans the kitchen to look for something.  When he finally finds his favourite cup – a personalised mug with the words ‘Trust me I’m JYP’ printed on it, which Mark finds really cute – he picks it up with a dimpled smile on his face, then walks to the refrigerator to get a drink.

The freezer first, just to check if there’s ice-cream, Mark predicts in his head, and Jinyoung does exactly that, peeking into the freezer to check for leftover ice-cream and closing it when he realises there is none. He then opens the cooler compartment and stops for a moment, as he ponders upon what to drink. Guava juice, no ice, Mark chants in his head, and expectedly, Jinyoung acts out his thoughts.

Mark wouldn’t call himself observant, because most of the time, he hardly cares about what goes on around him. But when it comes to Jinyoung, it’s a totally different story.

“Mark hyung?” Jinyoung waves his hand repeatedly in Mark’s face, and after what seems like eternity, Mark snaps out of his daze and responds with an inelegant and blunt “huh”. How embarrassing, he slaps himself internally.

“Are you okay?” Jinyoung asks, his shiny eyes filled with genuine concern. “I heard you just now. You need help with something, hyung?”

“Nope,” Mark answers with without a second thought, faking a smile. Yeah right, Mark, you totally do not need Jinyoung’s help. Jinyoung lowers his eyes and pursed his lips in doubt. “Really?” he probes, and Mark nods immediately, as if it was a conditional reflex.

Jinyoung visibly relaxes, and so does Mark. Finishing up his drink, he places the mug in the sink – for a mass dishwashing session later, Mark notes, as Jinyoung likes to leave things for later – and smiles at the redhead. “I’ll be going back to my room cos Jaebum hyung wants to assess our dance practice video together, hyung. See you around for dinner!”

“Oka-a-ay,” Mark manages to croak, his forlorn gaze trailing Jinyoung’s footsteps. When the door finally shuts, he lets out the breath he has been holding and staggers to his side, accidentally slamming into the handle of a cupboard right below his rib.

The pain inflicted is unpleasant, and will leave behind a bruise without a doubt. Yet, Mark’s hand creeps up to clench at his chest instead, as his heart hurts more, the pain excruciating, overpowering, and unbearable. He lives with five people, five rowdy teenage boys to be exact, and yet he doesn’t feel their sense of companionship. Now that they’re all behind walls, his surroundings are so silent, his ears hurt.

Jaebum doesn’t seem to like talking to Mark, but that’s fine, because Mark doesn’t feel comfortable in the no-nonsense atmosphere radiating from him. Besides, they were never on close terms.

Jackson ignores Mark all the time, because he is too boring for the hyperactive boy, but never mind that, as Jackson probably wouldn’t be of much help with Korean lyrics too.

Bambam and Yugyeom are inseparable playmates, and the small yet significant between them and Mark doesn’t do any good to their friendship. They more than often tell Mark to leave their room so they can concentrate on the ‘video game older boys will never get’. Again, that’s fine, as Mark doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the kiddos.

Well, Jinyoung offered his help, but Mark rejected it. It’s not that he doesn’t want the help; it’s because he doesn’t dare to receive Jinyoung’s help. He isn’t brave enough to interact with him. No, not with the boy who treats him so well – too well – out of all his dorm mates. No, not with the boy who sends butterflies to the pit of his stomach every time he smiles. No, not with the boy whose morning kisses set ablaze an inextinguishable fire in his body.

Hell no, not with the boy he likes.

Jinyoung is everything Mark wishes for in a boyfriend. He is gentle, treating everything and everyone with care, and Mark feels safe around him. He is full of positive energy, a ball of sunshine painting rainbows from the storm clouds inundating Mark. He is affectionate – random shoulder hugs, laced fingers, wake-up kisses, but he is affectionate to everyone. Mark isn’t special; he’s just another passer-by in Jinyoung’s life.

The more he falls in love with Jinyoung, the more he is fearful. He’s afraid that he would grow to become too dependent on him, afraid that when JJ Project’s activities officially begin, Jinyoung would be away for long, or possibly, never come back to the same dorm again. He’s also afraid that one day, his bottle of feelings would explode and blast Jinyoung away from him, forever.

He cannot and can’t bear to imagine how his life would be without Jinyoung’s presence – miserable, perhaps. ‘M’ for Mark and ‘M’ for ‘miserable’, how fitting. But ‘miserable’ would be a huge understatement.

Hence, ever since he was sure of his feelings for Jinyoung, Mark avoids him as much as he can. It’s what he wants to do, but rejecting Jinyoung’s help hurt him more than he expected. He is now, truly alone.

Heart thumping erratically, Mark runs to his empty room, slamming the door behind him as he dives into his blanket. He encloses himself under the thick cloth, drowning himself in the pitch-blackness and quietness, praying the monsters won’t find him. However, the biggest and deadliest monster of all – loneliness – thrives in darkness and silence.

Loneliness eats you alive, swallowing every ounce of hope you have yet to spare. It feasts upon any happiness you have left, leaving behind empty carcass, full of despair and memories you can't seem to hold onto anymore. It takes your heart into its claws, squeezing out every bit of life you had circulating throughout your opaque veins. It craves for you to suffer a life without any warm hands embracing you, or any shoulders to go cry upon. No, this beast wants you to only feel those cold fingertips tracing your soul.

Mark is under attack, and weak from battling stress for months, he is defenseless.

His throat tightens, he stops breathing, and he cries. Desolate tears fill up in his shaky eyes, until they can’t be held in any longer, and they fall, rolling down his pale cheeks and dripping steadily onto his shirt.  He tries to control his breathing, but the endless flow of tears blurs his vision and clouds his thoughts, trapping him in an unclear state of mind.

Mark doesn’t hear the frantic knocks on the door, neither does he notice the boy walking towards him cautiously. “Hyung? Are you okay, hyung?”

I must be hearing things, Mark convinces himself as he thought he heard Jinyoung’s voice. Why would Jinyoung be in his room anyway? But before he knows what’s happening, his blanket is yanked off him and a pair of warm hands cups his face. “Mark hyung! What happened to you?”

Mark can discern from the voice he heard and muddy vision he has that Jinyoung is kneeling in front of him, but he’s confused. What is he doing in the room of a loser?

Blinking his tears away rapidly, Mark’s vision eventually clears and his eyes naturally meet those just inches away from him. Jinyoung’s black orbs quiver in concern, and in the endless depth of ink and emotions, Mark sees his own reflection. Jinyoung is in front of him, staring straight into his eyes.

“Why are you crying, hyung?” Jinyoung asks, voice softening, as his fingers curl slightly to caress Mark’s tear-stained cheeks. That’s the breaking point. As soon as Jinyoung wipes Mark’s tears away, a fresh torrent bust forth. His body wracks with dry, racking sobs and he shakes vigorously, causing him to struggle to breathe as he chokes on his own tears. He desperately tries to stifle his sobs but as the emotions overwhelm him, he breaks down entirely, all his defences washed away in those salty tears.

Jinyoung is in shock, but his heart breaks as he watches his friend crumble, and instinctively, he pulls Mark closer to his chest and holds him carefully, as though he is fragile as glass. Mark buries his face against Jinyoung’s chest, taking temporary refuge in the warmth of the younger’s body. He continues to cry, hot tears seeping through the cotton shirt and turning cold as the damp cloth clings onto Jinyoung’s skin, sending shudders done his spine, as if he is experiencing the heat of Mark’s pain and the cold of his despair. He feels the rawness of Mark’s tears, like the pain is still an open wound, and uncontrollably tightens his embrace around him. When Mark finally looks up at Jinyoung, his eyes are swollen and sore.

Jinyoung gazes at the redhead in his arms tenderly, frowning as he pushes his damp hair away from his bloodshot eyes. “Hyung,” he whispers, “are you feeling better now?” Mark nods his head slightly. He feels terrible, eyes dry and head throbbing from crying for so long, but those are nothing when Jinyoung is beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jinyoung asks, as gently as he could, and Mark looks at him apprehensively. “You’ll feel better, trust me,” he tries again.

“I feel lousy, Jinyoung,” Mark croaks. He takes a moment to suppress the wave of emotions threatening to spill out and continues, “I-I’m not cut out for this... to become an idol. You’re debuting soon and the others are on their way, but I’m still a nobody, Jinyoung ah. I don’t think I will be able to stay here any longer…”

Jinyoung sees the desperation in Mark’s eyes, but doesn’t understand the reason behind it. Then, he catches a drift, remembering the lyrics sheet so securely clutched in Mark’s hand that his knuckles turned white in the kitchen earlier. “Is this about the upcoming test?”

Mark’s eyes widen in surprise. He realised long ago that the younger knows most of the dorm mates inside-out as he takes care of them like a mother would to her children, but he did not expect Jinyoung to read his mind so quickly.

“You’ll definitely pass it,” Jinyoung assures, completely confident, and on the contrary, Mark looks at him with complete doubt. Jinyoung grins, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes appearing as his crescent eyes smile, “trust me, I’m JYP!” Mark laughs softly, and Jinyoung smiles even wider. “See,” he says endearingly. “You look so much cuter and lovable when you smile!”

Mark’s cheeks immediately flush a rosy pink, and he turns to avert Jinyoung’s strong gaze. “But how can I pass? I’m so bad at rapping,” he mumbles.

“Bad at rapping?” Jinyoung repeats, looking at Mark incredulously. “Are you being serious right now, hyung? If you’re bad at rapping then I’m terrible at it, and I certainly do not deserve to debut as JJ Project’s rapper.”

“But you’re good, Jinyoungie! That’s why you’re debuting.” Mark protests, then looks down bitterly. “There are so many things I at. I can’t speak proper Korean, my dance moves are unnatural and awkward–”

“You’re brilliant, hyung,” Jinyoung sighs, reaching out to touch Mark’s hand. “You’re not a native Korean, of course you need time to get used to the language, and you’re doing so well already! Plus, you have this cool native American accent the entire dorm is jealous of, and you can speak Mandarin too! How are you not good enough?”

Mark’s heart swells a little as he hears the compliments. As much as he feels Jinyoung is exaggerating, the words are sweet as honey and slowly mend the broken pieces of his heart with a thick sugar coating. Jinyoung continues, “And please don’t compare your dancing with any of us! All five of us have been dancing ever since we could walk, but you only started when you came to Korea. You’re very talented, Mark hyung, for picking up dance in such a short period of time. Jaebum hyung always praises you, he says that you’re the best example of hard work paying off!”

Mark tries to imagine Jaebum speaking well of him and smiles at the thought of it. Maybe Jaebum doesn’t dislike him that much after all.

“Also,” Jinyoung pouts, “you flip and fly around like nobody’s business! You have no idea how jealous Jackson is of your martial arts tricking and how the maknaes admire your skill! How can you forget about that, hyung?”

They don’t look down on me?

“Are you sure?” Mark asks timidly, still sniffling. He can’t be as good as Jinyoung claims he is; after all, he’s the only one who is not selected to be in a group yet. Jinyoung let out a huge sigh; he cannot believe how silly Mark, a boy older than him, is.

“Yes, I am one hundred percent sure. Hyung, you’re one of the strongest people I know.” Mark raises his eyebrows upon hearing that, thinking that Jinyoung must be joking. Jinyoung realises that the redhead is doubting himself again and emphasises, “I’m not joking… You may think you are weak, but you try so hard and you just don’t give yourself enough credit! You seemed nonchalant when you first joined us, but then I realised that you care as much as any of us. Learning how to communicate in a foreign language, and even perform using it. It’s ten times harder for you and you work a hundred times more because you care.”

Jinyoung laces his fingers with Mark’s, causing heat to sear through his body, spreading from their point of contact to his neck and cheeks. “You may think you are a rough and unappealing stone, and I know you want to change that. Press on, hyung, don’t give up polishing yourself even though it’s hard, because I know you’re a diamond inside.”

Mark would have cringed if anybody said that cheesy line to him, but it’s not anybody, it’s Jinyoung. He is showered with many feelings – happiness, comfort, gratitude – and none of them are negative. He doesn’t even remember why he was so stressed out in the first place. He’s just glad that Jinyoung is with him right then.

Mark smiles and wipes the remnant tears on his cheeks. He shifts forward and wraps his arms tightly around Jinyoung’s torso, his smile never once about to fade as he whispers beside the younger’s ear. “Thank you, Jinyoung.”

“You’re welcome, hyung,” Jinyoung beams. “Have faith in yourself, and remember, I will always be there for you.”

They continue to hold each other in the warm embrace, a simple enough gesture – affection, perhaps the fragile beginnings of love, but undeniably of genuine care, support and friendship.

Jinyoung pulls away lightly and looks at Mark, “shall I help you prepare for the test?” This time, Mark returns his gaze confidently, smiling as he nods.

Mark knows he isn’t the strongest person. Not physically, and still not mentally. But, he knows he has strength – strength from his willpower and faith in himself, strength from his dorm mates, and strength from Jinyoung.

♥♥♥

A/N: I'd like to dedicate this fic to mjcsmt and oh-jaebum, both friends who I know will always be there for me. Thank you ♥

Remember that fluffball Youngjae is not included in the story as he joined the group later on! And for those who wanted "slightly romantic", here's super slight romantic for you hahaha but nevertheless, hopefully, enough fluff for you all at the end. Hope you all enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and comment to let me know what you think, upvote if you liked it!