A/N: Hey, readers~ Another multi-chap Markjin? yay! I started writing this one after Markjin's "GOT2DAY" episode. There's something I like about their style of communicating with each other-- namely Junior's patience with Mark and Mark's level of comfort with him-- and that's where the idea of this story came from. Hope you enjoy!

OLD WOUNDS

1. Meet Cute

Mark Tuan was walking through campus to his first class of the morning, head bent down and eyes fixed narrowly on the cobbled path in front of him, when out of nowhere a ripboard came sailing down the student union steps to his right and hit his shin before rolling on to run over the foot of a girl walking with her friend on his left. The girl shrieked in pain, dropping down to her knees and massaging her toes, which were unfortunately exposed by her flowered pink sandals, though Mark couldn't imagine they felt much worse than his shin, which had received the blunt of the board's velocity. He froze where he was standing, looking down at his jeans. No damage to them, at least. There wouldn't be a bruise today, but there would undoubtedly be a large and painful one tomorrow. Wonderful. The perfect way to start his very first day at university.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!"

He looked towards the union steps where there was a dark haired student in a decidely non-boarder outfit of a sweater vest and form fitting jeans running after the board with a guilty expression. , Mark thought. You better be sorry, I was already dreading today enough as it is. At first, Mark thought the boy was running towards him-- after all, he was the one who'd wound up completely nailed in the leg by this guy's board-- but the skater passed him by to tend to the girl with the injured foot and pick up the board that still rested by her sandaled feet.  Ah yes. She screamed. I just stood there. Of course he'd think he hit only her. Whatever, she can have his apology. It's not like I wanted anyone talking to me-- it's not like there's anything I can say back.

Mark was about ready to continue his walk (or limp, as the case would probably be now) to the science building, when he heard the injured-toes-girl start giggling. Ripboard-boy was asking her if she was okay, carefully checking her feet and bowing in repetence. Ripboard-boy also happened to be pretty attractive, now that Mark got a better look at him. The sort of type girls wouldn't mind getting into an accident over, once the initial pain passed. What did they call this kind of moment? A 'meet cute'. An accidental meeting that would most likely set a romance in motion. He would continue his apologies, she would giggle and flirt, he'd ask her out on a date to properly mend fences, and the rest would be history. Cute indeed. Mark stared at the girl with something between a glare and a smile. Enjoy it. It's something that won't happen to most of us.

He continued to walk to class, continued to dread the rest of the day, and continued to wince with every step because his skin was starting to throb where the ripboard had hit it. And that meet cute could have been mine,he thought irrationally. He had no interest in being introduced to any strangers or finding love or in listening to the apologies of boys who couldn't even skate without ing it up and who ruined his morning by taking out his leg. But there was a certain charm to thinking something impossible was possible somewhere in the back of his mind. Better than to face the miserable reality, which, now that he was for the first time being into the world of "regular" people entirely against his will, had hit a particularly bleak Day One.

0o0

Applying for university, like all the truly bothersome parts of Mark's life, had been his mother's idea. He hadn't really needed to go through the formalities of a higher education since it was already a given he'd be working at his father's instrument shop and maybe taking a few music gigs on the side, and he already had all the technical skills he needed to continue all the grunt work he did in crafting violins and violas in the workshop, courtesy of his father.

Still, his mother had insisted that she'd feel “more secure” if he got his degree, even if it was from the local performing arts school where he could major in piano performance, something he could pass without much effort. If she was being more honest with him and herself, the reason why she really wanted him to go was to make friends, or at least build up enough social skills to make an attempt. It wasn't like he didn't already have friends, exactly, but they were all from his old school, and to a degree like him. When it came to interacting with the rest of society, Mark simply didn't.

For a good reason, too, Mark thought resentfully as he trudged from his composition class to the student union. When you met people, they expected you to talk, not stare blankly at them before grabbing your cellphone, typing into it, and letting it do the talking for you. It had been so much easier in his special education high school, when they all knew each other by their conditions. Greetings of Hi, I'm Mark Tuan and I'm mute were usually greeted by Big deal, I'm deaf-mute or Dude, don't even try sign language, I can barely even understand Korean as it is. All in all, he'd had it a lot better than a lot of his classmates, so he didn't feel like he stuck out like a sore thumb or wasn't able to properly interact with the people around him.

But here, all of that changed. The teachers clued the other students into the fact that he wouldn't be talking normally, but through the text-to-speech program on his phone, and after they got over their initial curiosity over how his digital voice sounded, they didn't make a point of addressing him again. It was weird. The voice technology was choppy. They didn't like waiting for him to type out an answer. Whatever the reason was, no one struck up a conversation, and Mark only 'spoke' when the teacher directly addressed him.

Gee, mom, what a great environment to make friends in. At least his piano lessons were relaxing. There he could just let his instrument do the talking for him, and it spoke with much more beautiful phrasing than he ever could with his limited means.

He was dreading going to the cafeteria, though. He could always just grab his food and leave, but people were prone to starting up small talk in line, and the cashier expected a polite comment or two while paying. He didn't know how to exist in this world where people expected complete functionality. It wasn't as if he could wear a sign around his neck cluing people into the fact that he couldn't talk, but the culture didn't make it easy with all its little niceties involving addressing people just right. He didn't always have time to grab for his phone, and when he did, people usually assumed he was rudely texting during a conversation. Sign language helped even less, since almost no one was familiar with it and didn't understand what he was doing when he tried it. It was one of the reasons he didn't like leaving the workshop or hanging out with people outside of his high school. There was nothing he hated more than having to justify himself, especially since it took a titanic effort to get people to actually stay and listen.

Getting it over with, he headed over to the soup bar and ladled himself a bowl and silently handed it over to the cashier. Luckily, she looked bored and somewhat annoyed that everyone else was eating while she was working, and did nothing more than grunt at him and hand him back his food after she'd swiped his card.

Mark was just about to grab a disposable spoon and wander off to some corner to eat in peace when he was interrupted by a loud “Hey!” from someone at the napkin dispenser. He looked up. The ripboard boy from that morning was standing there staring at him, the injured-toes girl waiting not far off, holding her lunch tray and perkily bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. So she had secured a lunch date with him. Good for her. All Mark had gotten out of it was a bruised shin.

“Hey,” ripboard boy said. “My friends told me later that I hit you, too. You okay?”

Mark was surprised that the guy recognized him considering how neatly he had ignored him that morning, but Mark did have a rather distinct look with his bright red hair which had been the result of one of Youngjae's hair experiments gone wrong. He stared back at ripboard boy for almost a full minute before realizing that some sort of response was probably warranted. He nodded affirmatively to the boy's question.

“Good,” ripboard boy said, sighing. “I feel horrible. I don't know anything about skating, it was my friend Jaebum's board,  but he talked me into it and then I ran into two different people in one go... anyways, I already treated Eunmi-ssi to lunch as an apology, so I should do the same for you... but you already bought yours. Do you at least want to eat with us?”

Injured toes girl, Eunmi, looked a bit surprised at the offer, but shrugged and smiled at Mark so brightly that it was almost blinding. Mark shook his head. His lack of a spoken comment was verging on impolite at this point, but pulling out his cellphone now would require an explanation he wouldn't have to give if ripboard boy simply went off with Eunmi and left him alone.

“Oh.” Ripboard boy actually looked somewhat disappointed. “Well, I'll make it up to you some other time. What's your name? Are you a first year?”

“Jinyoung-ssi,” Eunmi said in a sing-song voice. “Just drop it, he clearly doesn't want to be bothered. Besides, about that favor you were going to do me...” She trailed off, giving a guilty smile to Mark.

Untalented Ripboard boy, Jinyoung, glanced over his shoulder at her, and in that moment, Mark grabbed his soup and headed for the door before he could get any more involved in the situation. Some guys can't get a date to save their lives, and he doesn't even realize he's in the middle of one, Mark snorted. Sometimes I'm glad I don't have to talk to idiots like that. You can have him, Eunmi. I'm better off on my own.

0o0

Mark's last class of the day wasn't exactly a class, but rather a teaching assistantship that one of his former teachers at his old high school had badgered him into. She had a daughter who taught sign language as an elective, and thought it would be beneficial for her to teach it on a practical level with someone who actually used it regularly in their everyday life based on pure necessity. Mark didn't mind making the extra effort since he would get bonus credits for it, and it was always enjoyable to be in an environment where he was the best communicator in the room at the language they were learning.

When he made it to the room, he was unsurprised to find a room full of female students awaiting him, and even smiled a little as they sat up straighter at the sight of a member of the opposite . Their eyes followed him as he made his way to the teacher, a young professor named Jin Joohyun, and widened as his hands started flying into a greeting in his most comfortable, silent language.

Joohyun-seonsaengnim. How have you been?, he signed.

Always happy to see you, Mark. Enjoying your first day of school?

It's fine, he lied. I read over the lesson plan you sent to me. Do I really have to do that thorough of an introduction of myself?

They'll ask you anyways. I guarantee it.

The classroom door opened again, and Mark glanced over his shoulder. His stomach sank when he saw who it was. There, of all people, was ripboard boy-- Jinyoung, or whatever his name was. His eyes lit up when he saw Mark and he waved vigorously, oblivious of all the girls whose eyes nearly shot out of their heads at the sight of another attractive boy entering the room. Mark smiled thinly and turned back to Joohyun, leaving Jinyoung to the mercy of the young women who were eagerly scooting their seats to make room for him beside them.

Oh, this will be fun, she signed. One guy and fourteen girls. A friend of yours?

No. He hit me with his friend's ripboard this morning.

Sounds like a real bond in the making. Joohyun glanced at her watch, then cleared to silence the chattering students. “Good afternoon, class,” she said, signing along with everything she said. “If you're here for Sign Language, you're in the right place. If you're not, get out while you can still understand what's being said.”

She paused, and everyone else stayed in place. “Good. You all clearly have some sense of direction. That will come in handy. I am Jin Joohyun, your professor for this course.  Like many of you, I never thought I would have a reason in particular to learn sign language. When one learns the languages, they usually think English in particular, then Japanese or Chinese or French or Spanish. They don't think of this subtle language they never hear spoken. But when I was eight, my little brother was born. Deaf-mute. As a sister, I couldn't leave him in a world of silence. My whole family learned it at his side, but this is not a language I'm content to leave to myself. For most of his life, my brother has only been able to communicate easily with his family and his friends who share his condition. He knows so very little of people outside of that bubble, since it feels much too trying for them to learn his language, and much too trying for him to communicate without it. If you learn and learn well, you could be a gateway to a new world for someone like my brother, who has never known a life in the comfortable majority. It's up to us to open up those doors and give the chance to people who have been forced to live on the fringes.”

Joohyun extended her hands to Mark. “This will be my assistant for the course, Mark Tuan. Mark-ssi, would you do us the honor of introducing yourself in sign language? I will narrate in Korean, but I want all of you to pay close attention to his hand movements. He is a fluent speaker, so to speak, and there is much to be learned by his familiar style of communication. Mark-ssi?”

Mark focused on the class. Jinyoung had taken a seat right in front of him, and was staring up at him in rapt attention. It was difficult to repress a frown. What did he want? If he wanted to apologize, he should just do that and drop it. Being some kind of over eager up wasn't going to make Mark's shin feel any better.

He pulled his eyes away from Jinyoung and stared at a vague point in the middle of the class. I am Mark Tuan. I am mute, but not deaf. Everything you say, I can hear perfectly, but I cannot respond verbally. I have been this way since I was five years old and contracted an illness which damaged my vocal chords. There was supposed to be a surgery, but it went wrong, and I was left with the diagnosis of never being able to speak again. I have been communicating with sign language ever since, along with using text-to-speech on my phone to speak more easily to non-sign language speakers. Like your professor said, my world is in many ways very small. But at the same time, I hope I can open up yours a little bit with mine. Thank you.

When Joohyun finished translating, Mark hazarded a glance at Jinyoung, whose face had turned very solemn. Great, he probably thinks I'm even more of a charity case now. He grimaced. It was too bad Eunmi wasn't anywhere in sight to lecture him about leaving people alone.

For the first part of the class, they went over the basics of communicating individual syllables and spelling out names, and during the second half Joohyun asked them to pair up and practice. Jinyoung's hand immediately shot up.

“Yes, Park Jinyoung-ssi?”

“There are fifteen of us, so someone will be left without a partner. Is it okay if I partner up with Mark-ssi?”

Joohyun lifted an eyebrow. “...I suppose. As assistant, it would probably be more helpful if he went along with me and checked your hand movements...”

“I know a little bit of sign language already, so I won't take much time. I promise.”

Mark looked at him with newfound interest. Maybe he had some relative or another who was hearing or speech impaired, which wasn't incredibly infrequent. If that was the case, he could communicate with him quickly about dropping the issue of the paying him back over the ripboard incident and demanding his attention when it was clear that every girl in his radius was desperate to talk to Jinyoung.

Mark took the seat next to Jinyoung. Well. Introduce yourself.

Jinyoung did so within seconds, using fairly adept movements. Was that right?, he asked, also in sign language.

Not bad.

“My grandpa is deaf. I don't know a lot yet since I didn't live with him before... before my parents died, but I'm trying to get better so we can communicate more clearly.”

Good.

“Ah, and about this morning...”

Forget about it.

“Oh, um,  I don't understand.”

Mark grabbed his phone, typed the same sentence, and let the audio play.

“You're sure? I mean, I didn't see the board hitting either of you, but it must have been really bad...”

“Unless you can un-hit my shin, I don't see what there's left for you to do.”

Jinyoung stared at his phone. “Did you choose that voice? Or is that the default?”

“There were some options, I chose this one. Why?”

“It sounds like you.”

Mark stared at him blankly.

“I mean, like it sounds like your voice would sound like. It matches your looks. If that makes sense. It's nice.”

“I'll let the voice technology people know.”

“Haha. I guess it's pointless to compliment you on that. Sorry.”

You're an idiot, Mark signed.

Jinyoung winced. “Errr... believe it or not, my grandpa says that to me all the time, in case you think I didn't understand that.”

“It won't kill you to hear it again.”

“Guess not...”

“Done over there, Mark-ssi?” Joohyun called out. “If you are, check on the other pairings for mistakes.”

Jinyoung sighed, but didn't protest as Mark left to correct any inaccuracies in the others' conversations. As nice as it was to converse with someone like a normal person, there was something disarming about Jinyoung's friendliness. Was he really supposed to trust in its genuineness so easily? Wasn't it just because he felt guilty over hitting Mark? Mark didn't want to waste his time 'befriending' someone who would get bored halfway through. Being his friend wasn't easy-- partially because he didn't make it easy-- and he didn't have the patience for anyone who invested themselves lightly.

But Jinyoung was nothing if not persistent. When class ended, he deliberately hung around, waiting for Mark and Joohyun to finish going over their upcoming lesson plans. Joohyun looked between them with a bemused expression, and finally told Mark he was free to go.

“I know you don't want me to, but please let me take you out for something,” Jinyoung said, following him out of the room. “It's really not because I feel bad. I do, but I want to be friends.”

We can't even talk.

Jinyoung squinted at him. “I don't know what you said, but I'm going to guess that you're telling me we can't communicate well. I hope you know that you'll never make friends at that rate. Besides, I can already communicate with you a step better than most people here.” I'll do my best, he signed.

Mark stared at him for a long minute. If he was being like this just for the sake of doing his good deed of the day, it wouldn't hurt to at least let him get it out of his system so he could happily go back to hitting people with ripboards or whatever he did in his spare time. Besides, it would be much easier to go home and talk to his mother if he could least say he'd made the effort to befriend somebody. Reluctantly, he nodded his assent.

Jinyoung's face lit up. “Great. I know this great place off campus, c'mon.” He tried to grab Mark's arm, but Mark jerked away quickly. Jinyoung looked surprised for a moment, but then smacked his hand on his forehead. “Right, you use your hands to communicate. Wow, I'm not making a good impression today. Just... follow me, then.”

Jinyoung led him to a BBQ restaurant a few blocks away, and grabbed them a table in the back.  “Look, you don't even have to worry about spending anything,” Jinyoung said, pulling a card out of his pocket. “My friend's parents own this place, and he owes me a free meal for a favor I did for him.”

For just one of us?

“You're asking if just one of us gets the free meal? Yeah, you're getting it. I can't un-hit your shin, but I can at least prove I'm not that much of a jerk. As I said, I've never skated before. And I... um... got distracted.”

Mark shrugged and opened the menu. To be stubborn, he picked the most inexpensive meat on the menu, which didn't seem to phase Jinyoung, who ordered beef and offered to split it with him. When the waitress came, Jinyoung handed her the free meal pass and her eyes comically widened. “Wait, my cousin is giving you food?”

“There's a first for everything.”

“Still...” She turned to Jinyoung and smiled. “Anyways, since this is a once in a lifetime type thing, you can have the whole thing on the house. I'm sure Yugyeom has mooched off of you enough to make up the difference.”

Jinyoung nodded gratefully and placed their order. “That was my friend's cousin,” he explained once the waitress had left. “I'd introduce you to Yugyeom ah too, but he's actually not allowed here.”

Mark lifted an eyebrow.

“If he was allowed to take every free meal he wanted, his family would never be able to turn a profit.  He's still in high school, and he's at that stage where his stomach is a black hole. But moving on-- are you a first year at university, too?”

He nodded.

“I thought you looked like you were my age. What are majoring in?”

Mark grabbed his phone. “Piano performance.”

“Really? So you're going to be performing with the orchestra this year, then? I like going to concerts, so maybe I'll see you sometime? I'm majoring in vocal performance.”

Mark looked at Jinyoung closely. “I hope you're better at that than skating.”

Jinyoung's lip jutted out. “I am better. You're more than welcome to come to one of my performances later in the year and hear for yourself.” He paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Talking to me through your phone... is it easy for you? Or do you prefer to use sign language?”

Mark paused to consider. “I don't dislike it. But I can't type anywhere close to the speed which I think, where I can sign much closer. By time I finish writing something, sometimes it feels like the moment where it should have been said already passed.”

“I got it,” Jinyoung said. “I'll get better at signing, then.”

“You don't have to for my sake.”

“It's for my grandpa, too. I like being able to talk to people.”

The food arrived, and they were momentarily silenced as the waitress arranged each side dish and planted their meat orders by the grill. Jinyoung eagerly heaped it on, while Mark immediately dug into his portion of kimchi. The soup at lunch hadn't been incredibly filling, but he was still a little bit surprised by how hungry he was all of a sudden.

“Have you eaten here before?” Jinyoung asked. “It's really good, isn't it?”

Mark paused. He had his hands full with his chopsticks, and he'd have to set everything down to answer on his phone. He hadn't eaten here before, but he thought it was good-- so what to answer with... a nod or a shake?

“Wait, don't set them down,” Jinyoung said quickly as Mark lowered his chopsticks. “I don't want to interrupt your meal after dragging you out here. Would you be bothered if I did all of the talking while you're busy eating? I promise I won't be obnoxious.”

Better than both of us sitting in silence, Mark thought. He waved him on, indicating to go ahead.

“OK, then.” He bit into his own side dishes thoughtfully. “I get the feeling you don't like me because you think I want to be your friend because I feel sorry for you.”

Mark nodded. No point in lying. 

“I don't, though. I think you've been isolated, definitely, just like Joohyun-seonsaengnim was saying about her brother. But I don't think you're as unhappy as you maybe could be because of that. Like you seem to me like you could live the rest of your life the way you are, and be perfectly fine. But I think it would be nice to be your friend, that's why I'm talking to you. You're free to think otherwise, though.”

Is that so, Mark thought. I guess I'm not unhappy. Not overly happy, but not unhappy. When I was younger, I hated the way I was, because it made me stand out from everyone else. But that went away over time, and I hated talking to people because it was difficult on both sides. I don't know how I feel now. I don't think I'm opposed to having friends, but that difficulty is still there. I'm just tired of having to try and get over it time and time again only to have people give up halfway through.

“Mmmm, this restaurant is the best,” Jinyoung said, closing his eyes in ecstasy. “Gramps is all about buying organically grown vegetables, so I get way more of that than meat. And whenever I try to go out with Yugyeom or BamBam, they just dump the whole bill on me.” He rolled his eyes.

Mark set down his chopsticks and grabbed his phone because he was genuinely curious. “How long have you been living with your grandfather?”

“Just a year, now. Gramps is a widower, so he was the first relative to offer to take me in when I lost my parents. He's been so kind, even though he can barely even communicate with me, and I've really tried to make the effort to become better because of that. Doesn't that make the chances of us being friends seem better?”

“Your grandfather calls you an idiot a lot?”

“That? Well..." Jinyoung flushed. "Though I've been working hard, my sign language could still use a lot of work. Sometimes I try to say things that are difficult for me, and they come out badly... really badly..."

“I'm adding that to your list of bad points. Right after nailing people with ripboards.”

Jinyoung grinned. “See? This is why I wanted to be friends. You're funny.” His smile quirked a little. “Although... they could stand to add a sarcastic tone to that voice app of yours.”

“That's what my facial expressions are for.”

“True...” Jinyoung met his eyes, and Mark suddenly felt himself becoming anxious. Surely this was because he was finally making friends with someone 'normal' and was actually doing a pretty good job of it, for his standards. He set down his phone again and picked up his chopsticks. He thought it might be easier for him if he let Jinyoung do the talking again.

Jinyoung, in spite of Mark's early poor opinion of him, turned out to be a decent talker. He expressed himself well and spoke at the relaxed pace Mark preferred, and the majority of what he said was actually interesting, so he didn't talk Mark's ear off. He took frequent breaks of silence to eat his meal, and his eyes always seemed to be checking Mark's reactions, knowing that to be his best way of communicating while his hands were tied up.

When they finished, Jinyoung walked him partway back to his house. “Mine's the same way,” he said. “Hey, Mark-- can I call you that, since we're same age friends?”

Mark nodded.

“I really promise to get better at sign language, all right? So even if trying to make friends with me is exhausting, try not to give up on me.”

Shouldn't trying to make friends with me be the exhausting process? Still, Jinyoung was looking at him so eagerly, that it was enough for him to put a slight bit of faith in. He nodded, and Jinyoung smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“All right. See you again tomorrow, Mark.”

Just keep your friend's board away from me, Mark signed, even though he knew Jinyoung wouldn't be able to understand.

“Eh? I'll try and look that up when I get home.” He waved and turned to go down the street leading to his house.

As soon as Mark made it through his own door, his mother practically pounced on him. “Well?” she asked, both signing and speaking aloud. “How was it? Did you make any friends?”

Yes, Mark signed. I made a friend.

“Oh... well of course you did!” She tried to hide how pleased she was, failing miserably.

I'm not half upset myself, he thought, a little bit amazed with himself. Even if that guy is an idiot. Maybe I did manage to have a meet cute after all.