For the next few weeks Mark lived like he was dead. Their apartment was so empty and quiet without Jinyoung’s presence, and it didn’t help that Coco was recovering from her illness at the veterinarian. It was so lifeless, the only time he remembered he was still alive was when the ragged sounds of him breathing engulfed the silent room.

Still, there was a world of difference between living and simply staying alive. No doubt he was breathing, eating, drinking, but all were mindless, mechanical movements. His soul was detached from his physical body, and what was left was only an unfeeling, empty carcass.

At the beginning, he’d thought to give Jinyoung some time, because he’d always come back no matter what. Jinyoung was understanding and forgiving like that. Whenever they fought, he would give him some time to battle out his own emotions, and then Jinyoung would go back to him on his own. Mark, of course, would always welcome the younger with open arms.

Hence he tried not to worry about Jinyoung and trusted that he was safe in Jaebum’s care, and he carried on with his daily routine. He would go to work, and head home with a hopeful heart each day, hoping to open the door to their apartment to see his husband waiting for him to have dinner together.

It never happened, and his heart fell a little more each day. When a full week had passed and Jinyoung still refused to switch on his phone, Mark let go of his last hope. The thought that Jinyoung would not be coming back dropped on him like an atomic bomb, leaving him broken and irreparable. As though he was entangled in the arms of an evil curse, he fell sick immediately. God could have been kinder to him by allowing him to continue working, as any source of distraction would have helped, yet he was forced by his superiors to take sick leave.

Mark was thus stuck in a cruel clockwork cycle; minutes passed like hours and days passed like years. He would spend most of his time curled up in layers of blankets, but no amount of insulation could warm his cold, empty heart as Jinyoung never picked up a single call. He dialed the younger’s number continuously, not missing a single minute in case he had decided to switch on his phone at that crucial moment.

The bleeping ringtone accompanied Mark in the day – when he was scavenging for the last of microwaved food, also when he stood under the shower, just staring into space wondering about what Jinyoung could have been doing then. His heart leapt a little every time the ringtone broke into silence, every inch of him anticipating Jinyoung’s voice, but he was always met with the annoying, monotonous machine-generated voice: “the caller ID you called is currently unavailable.”

It didn’t take long for Mark to come to a decision to ignore the doctor’s advices and step out of the house, and he headed straight for Jaebum’s. The latter had been consistently texting Mark, telling him again and again that Jinyoung was fine. But how could he be fine? Not when he hadn’t called for days, and certainly not when he left without a word, but with tears.

As he had expected, Jinyoung refused to see him. Even Jaebum, the owner of the apartment, had no right over the main door. “Sorry Mark, he said he would kill himself if I opened the door for you. Give him some more time, yeah?” he had texted.

The same thing happened over and over again for so many more days, it felt like centuries to Mark. He would wake up, call Jinyoung, barely pick on remnants of leftovers, call Jinyoung, travel to Jaebum’s, call Jinyoung… He was stuck in a recurring nightmare, except it wasn’t merely a figment of his imagination, but the harsh reality.

He craved for the oblivion of sleep but each night was spent tossing and turning in bed, the darkness blinding and the silence deafening. There was no Jinyoung to hug to sleep, no comfort from his soft and steady breathing. There was no Jinyoung to wake up to.

Twelve midnight morphed into one, then two, then three – nothing changed except the glowing numerals of the digital clock. Before he knew it dawn would arrive, but each beautiful sunrise meant nothing to him except an indicator that it was yet another torturous day without Jinyoung.

~~~~~

“Jinyoung, for the last time, can you please, I beg, not leave your used tissues in the freezer?” Jaebum lamented. His best friend had been tossing dirty tissues around his living space, leaving trails of his tears and mucus all around, as though it was already not obvious that he was in a distraught state.

Jaebum had to travel to the central district to get more boxes of tissues because the minimart in his neighbourhood ran out (Jinyoung probably had already demolished a hectare of trees at this rate).  Knowing the younger was not in a good mood, he tried not to mention anything about his bad littering habits but it was definitely getting out of hand, considering he almost ate booger-infused bacon.

“Sorry,” Jinyoung croaked, lifting his head up from the giant tub of double-chocolate ice cream he was devouring – if only they had triple, the sweeter the better. “Must have been when I took this out,” he sniffled.

“Seriously–” Jaebum began, but halted immediately as he came eye to eye with his best friend. His sparkly and over-excited eyes used to give him headaches, but now he would do anything to get them back, anything to replace those empty eyes. “Jinyoung ah,” he said, so softly it was barely a whisper, as though a higher decibel would shatter his fragile friend. “Do you mind if we talk about it?”

Jinyoung froze at the question, his metal spoon slipping from his grip into the half-empty tub. In those moments of uncomfortable silence, the ice cream in his mouth melted and trickled down his throat – it should have been sweet, but suddenly Jinyoung couldn’t taste the sweetness anymore.

“Talk about what?” he asked, feigning nonchalance. He knew he was running away from reality, which was a stupid thing to do, but every time he spared a thought about his and Mark’s predicament, he would feel depressed all over again. For now, he just wanted a sense of peace, even if it rendered him numb to emotions.

Jaebum sighed, cautiously removing the ice cream from Jinyoung’s hands. He knew the younger would absolutely abhor what he was going to say (he never took his advice well), but it was time to be the Dutch uncle. He had to knock some sense into Jinyoung, whether he liked it or not. 

“Listen,” he said firmly after taking a deep breath, “you have to start somewhere. If you don’t want to confront him, talk to me about it. You can’t just wallow in self-pity and hope everything will turn back to normal. Don’t live your life like that, Jinyoung ah. Do something for me, for Mark, for yourself.”

There was a note of finality in his tone, and it triggered the overwhelming emotions suppressed within Jinyoung. He recognised that his best friend was right, but he wasn’t ready to face the music. He just wasn’t. “I c-can handle this myself. Y-you don’t have to treat me l-like a baby, hyung,” he stuttered and forced an awkward tight-lipped smile, his attempt to sound reassuring failing through and through.

“But you’re acting like one,” Jaebum retorted, causing the younger to flinch. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his messy hair and sighed for the umpteenth time. “I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I just want the best for you, Jinyoung. I can’t stand to see you in this state.”

Upon hearing Jaebum’s harsh but true words, the fake smile on Jinyoung’s face slumped faster than a poorly set dessert. “I know,” he mumbled as he sunk into the sofa in defeat, his arms clutching the cushion closer to his chest in a despondent search for some warmth. “I know, hyung. I just… I just d-don’t know about…”

“About?” Jaebum prompted, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge with one finger, eager to finally find out the root of the problem and hopefully, help to solve it.

Jinyoung let out a shaky breath; the dread and anxiety deadened his mind and body. Closing his weary eyes, he finally blurted what was long buried in his heart: “M-mark.” Immediately, he felt weird all over from saying the name he had been trying to avoid. It was as if someone punctured a hole in his empty vessel and waves of emotions came flooding in, sudden and unstoppable.

The name he used to love so much, the name that had him blessed and intoxicated and walking on air, had become a taboo. What used to be Cupid’s arrows now felt like ruthless stabs through his heart, each knife laced with lethal poison. “Hyung, I feel like Mark doesn’t … d-doesn’t love me anymore.”

He finally said it. By then, he was biting his lower lip and holding his breath, doing everything he could to suppress those tears in his eyes that were threatening to spill. The first effort he made to step up to reality felt like a huge blow across his face, and he was utterly shaken.

Jaebum opened his mouth to say something but was abruptly interrupted by sounds of knocking on the main door. Intuitively, he stood up to open the door, only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

“Jinyoung…” The voice was weak but desperate, faint and muffled from the barrier of the door but still audible. Jaebum hastily glanced at the man whose name was just called – he was stupefied, mouth agape and unmoving.

“Jinyoung ah, please,” Mark continued. “Can we talk about it? I miss you so much Jinyoung, please talk to me, I love you.” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice sounded so strained it was as if he choked it out from the depths of his wrecked being.

I love y-you? Just a second ago, Jinyoung had his blood drained completely from his face, which left him pale as sheet while his name in Mark’s voice bounced around in his skull like a pulsing migraine. Yet, upon hearing the elder confess his love, his heart leapt and his stomach did a little somersault. Mark loves me? For a millisecond, he felt life erupting in him; he felt the urge to run towards Mark and fall into a big bear hug.

For so many days he was aware that Mark had came to see him, but he was always in the bedroom and had Jaebum be his messenger. His mind was clouded with doubt, fear, sadness, and he felt terrible and hence sent him away each time. However, it was different now that he heard Mark’s voice with his very own ears. He hated how his mind instantaneously cleared up, how he actually felt a sense of peace now that stormy waves had calmed to still water, but there was no running away from the truth.

Relief. He felt an immense sense of relief to hear Mark’s voice again. It handed him a new string of hope, opened him up to a new possibility that maybe Mark meant what he said. Maybe, just maybe, he still loved him as much as before.

He was supposed to remain angry. He was supposed to be cold as ice, unmoved by anything and everything Mark tried to do. Instead, he was involuntarily pulled into this calamitous vortex of conflicting emotions and whoosh whack bam! The tables had turned.

~~~~~

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jackson asked with a hopeful tone. He had been gawking at Mark for the longest time, amazed at how still he remained despite his disturbances, when usually he would be quick to smack his head. He knew his best friend was quiet, but he was not informed that he was a wax figure.

“PEN-EE FAWR YOHR THAWTS?” he shouted this time, dramatically emphasizing each syllable for his hearing impaired friend. Mark finally responded, whipping his head around to send a death glare to Jackson, whose vision blurred from the sudden change of scenery.

“You gotta try harder,” the elder muttered before throwing himself onto his bed, hands unable to stop fiddling with his overheated phone. Jinyoung was still not replying. His messages were unread, and his tragic attempts to call him were ruthlessly ignored, as like he was chased away from Jaebum’s apartment like a stray cat every time he visited.

Jackson rolled his eyes. Why call him over when they weren’t going to talk? “A penny’s not enough huh,” he huffed. “How about five bucks?”

Is he ing serious right now? Mark shot the younger an incredulous look, seemingly unable to believe his best friend was capable of cracking jokes at this moment; not when Jinyoung was still uncontactable id est the world was about to end.

“Okay okay!” Jackson reluctantly pulled out his wallet and took a sneak peak at its contents, then tucked in his shirt with such tenacity, one would think he was about to announce a reform as a running presidential candidate.

“Last deal, six bucks!” he proclaimed, and then eagerly launched into his explanation, spitting words at the speed of a machine gun with no breaths in between. “You know, it’s not because I don’t want to offer you more but because I need at least four bucks to get my a la carte Whopper burger take note a la carte I can’t believe I gave up my Double Whopper upsized meal for you oh my god Markie-pooh you really should be grateful and oh! Don’t ask me why I only have ten bucks I –”

“Shut up, Jacks,” Mark snapped, cutting off the ludicrous speech the younger was reciting. Where did he get such a ratchet best friend? “I just… I just don’t want to talk, okay?”

“Yeah, let’s not talk then,” Jackson grumbled and threw his arms in the air, peeved at Mark’s wayward behaviour. “Let’s not talk, and wait for some surly, opportunistic man to steal your Jinyoung away and then, you’ll come to me crying wanting to talk about it!”

With that, Mark sat up as though rigor mortis set in, his once limp body now surging with life at the thought of Jinyoung leaving him for another man. He would not let someone take the person he loves the most in his life away from him, never in a million years.

“Now we’re talking,” Jackson flashed a proud smile. He casually picked up the bowl of buttered popcorn he just made in the kitchen, and then crossed his legs on the chair in full attention as if he was about to watch – or listen to, in this case – an intense melodrama. “So, what did you exactly do?”

“I’m not sure,” Mark answered de facto. Now that he was actively discussing the problem, he realised he had never really understood why it emerged in the first place – he was too caught up with being sick and feeling lonely.

“What? You took a dump and you don’t even know if it was diarrhea or constipation?” Jackson deadpanned as he munched on his popcorn, emitting irritating crunching noises the elder just could not appreciate at this moment.

“How the hell could you say that with a straight face – wait, that’s not the point!” The elder sighed exasperatedly. “The point is, you know Jinyoung always keeps things to himself. He hadn’t complained or said anything this time. He just –”

Mark shut his eyes and shook his head in self-pity. “He just left, and I know it’s my fault,” he admitted. “It has to be my fault, and I’m a for not figuring that out by now.”

“You know,” Jackson said with his mouth full, “sometimes when I lose my Burger King vouchers I just try to retrace my steps and voilà, they would be somewhere even if it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. You just gotta look harder for what you love, Markie.”

Terrible analogy, but he has a point. Mark straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said, determined. “Let me think…” He hummed as he took a walk down memory lane, catching glimpses of events that flew past evanescently like half-forgotten dreams.

From what he could recollect he realised that indeed, Jinyoung had been acting unlike himself lately. He was less talkative, and tended to do things on his own when he would usually be keen to share them with Mark. He had also cut off all contact with Mark for the longest time ever, when he would usually come back with a sheepish face in at most two days, and they would apologise to each other, make up, and hallelujah – everything would be alright again.