Mark absolutely hates flying.

He despises it with a passion. The little things annoy him like opening the overhead bin only to find out that someone else had wrongfully placed their stuff in his spot. Opening the magazine provided by the airline only to find out that someone else had already done the crossword puzzle. Worst yet, accidentally engaging with the person next to him only for that person to spill his entire life story.

It’s the big things too. There’s something about being 25,000 feet up in the air that scares the hell out of Mark. He gets really antsy and restless during take off, and no movie or music is able to keep him occupied long enough to distract him from it all. But he thinks his hatred of it goes deeper than that.

The first time he’s ever flown, he was running away from a life that, looking back now, he no longer recognizes. He supposes this immense fear comes not only from the height and fear of falling but also from the thoughts he was left with to his own during that first flight. Fourteen hours of worrying and wondering if he’d done the right thing had him mostly insane by the time the plane had landed.

So yes, suffice it to say that Mark is not a fan of flying. Which is why he takes a big sigh of relief when the aircraft finally reaches its designated destination.

It takes a long time for Mark to get his luggage, but things go by quickly after that. As he goes down the escalator, he sees his parents waiting on the bottom floor with a big sign and big smiles. The sign reads MARK TUAN, and Mark feels giddy from finally visiting his parents after all these years.

They’re not close, per se, but they’re not not close. They do talk on the phone at least once every month, sometimes more. So it’s not like they haven’t kept contact, but he supposes it would have been nice had he visited once in a while. It’s not that he doesn't want to see his parents, is the thing. It’s this whole town and its people and these foggy memories. He’d rather forget about most of it and move on.

But fate is not in Mark’s hands as his situation has forced him to go back this holiday break. He’ll get to the reason later on, but for now, he has to focus on his parents.

“Mark,” his mom calls to him with open arms. Mark takes it immediately, missing his mom more than he thought he did. There’s nothing quite like the love given by a mother, so pure and so warm. They stay in the embrace for almost a minute, his mom surely reclaiming all the lost time they spent away from each other. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Mom.” Mark says honestly.

And as soon as she releases him, his dad immediately pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. What this hug lacks in length, it makes up for in strength. Mark thinks he broke a rib or two from it, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

“Hey, dad.”

His parents then ask him a barrage of questions, Mark answering them quickly one by one. Simple questions like how the flight was. It ; fourteen hours of doing nothing, I do not recommend. And if he had eaten. Yes, Mom, they provided in-flight food during the travel. And if he was doing alright at home. Not really, that’s why I’m here, Dad. Remember?

The talk continues to the car, the conversation jumping from topic to topic like how the weather is back at his place, and if he had any plans of moving back here soon, and that they really want some grandbabies, Mark, they’re getting old.

“Please, no, Mom. I don’t think I’m ready for children.”

“That’s okay, dear. I’m just putting the idea out there.”

Mark’s parents continue to ramble on, and he answers them absentmindedly. His thoughts are occupied by the town he’ll be seeing in less than five minutes now.

And sure enough, after blurs of speeding cars and wintry greenery, up ahead of them is the sign that he so precisely remembers. There’s a bittersweet taste in his mouth when he finally sees the tailends of his hometown. It instantly brings back memories, some he’d rather forget and some he will treasure forever. Likewise, it reminds him of people he’d rather not see again and others he can’t wait to meet once more.

He’s back in town for the holidays. There’s a reason why he’s here for the next month, but there’s an even bigger reason why he hasn’t been back here in almost a decade, neither of which he’d like to think about at the moment.

Mark left this place very quickly after he graduated, just a little over eight years ago now. Until now, Mark thinks himself weak for leaving like a spineless bastard, saying goodbye only to his family. He supposes this is his chance to set things straight and make things right, at least with the one person he made the gravest mistake with.

When they finally arrive at his parents’ house, Mark feels his throat constrict from all the images that are suddenly popping up in his mind. Spending snowy Christmases here in this old town, running around in the sweltering heat of the summer during his early years here, and even the traditional family dinners every Sunday night.

His parents help him out bringing his baggage inside. As soon as they do so, his mom is already on him, asking him if he wants to eat or rest or do this and that.

“I’ll just get settled in first, and then maybe I’ll think about eating.”

His mom pats his cheeks. “You better. You’re looking even skinnier than I remember.”

Mark huffs but says nothing. And then his dad is carrying the lighter suitcase up the stairs while Mark struggles with the heavier one. They stop in front closed room, panting from the unexpected workout.

“Good to have you back, son.” His dad pets his shoulder.

“Good to be back.” Mark replies, and then his dad is leaving. That’s what Mark likes about him. He’s not a helicopter parent like his mom.

When Mark lugs his suitcase inside his old room, nostalgia hits him hard like a truck. Everything is exactly the same he had left it eight years ago. The NBA poster is still on the main wall, the white edges looking yellowish from age. His pikachu collection still sits nicely in the corner of the room, and from the looks of it has been dusted recently.

The main difference is the bed sheet and comforter. He had always used a blue one, if he recalled correctly. The white bed sheet and comforter set looks unfamiliar to Mark. The air in the room isn’t stale, and Mark figures that his mom had probably aired it out as well as changed the sheets to rid the place of that dry odor.

It feels weird to be back. It neither feels good nor bad. Mark just wishes it didn’t feel so strange and bizarre. He supposes it would’ve felt normal had he gone back home every now and then, but not coming for almost a decade makes everything feel foreign to him.

He lies down on his bed, the soft blanket feeling nice on his tired body. Eyes closing on their own, Mark lets himself rest for a bit. He wonders if everyone is still in this small town. Is Yugyeom still taller than all of this town’s population? Is Bambam still a foot shorter than the rest of them? And most importantly, how is Jinyoung?

Just saying Jinyoung’s name in his mind makes him nauseous. If there was one thing Mark regrets the most, it’s the way in which he left Park Jinyoung. If leaving this town was a bad decision, then leaving Jinyoung would be the worst part of it all.

Park Jinyoung is the loose thread of an old shirt. The knot that Mark didn’t tie. He’s the physical embodiment of actions left undone and words left unsaid, and Mark considers him his biggest mistake.

How to even begin Mark and Jinyoung’s story? If anyone asked Mark, he would say without a single shred of doubt that their story was epic, one of love found and love lost.

It’s a story of paradise and mayday.

Mark opens his eyes and sighs. He makes his way towards the closet, finding clothes he hadn’t seen, much less worn, in the last several years. But what he’s looking for is the box sitting right at the top of the high shelf inside his closet, a raggedy looking thing full of memorabilia and fond memories.

He takes it with a shaky hand, dust coming out in a cloud as soon as he moves it. Mark sits down on the floor, the box feeling weightier than he remembers. He fans his hand to get rid of the floating tiny particles in the air, mentally and emotionally preparing himself before he dives back into his childhood.

He makes a face at his sorry excuse of a handwriting, the words DO NOT OPEN in big, black letters on the box. When Mark finally deems himself ready to do so, he opens his package of memories. There is a variety of items hidden in here, ranging from folded notes to movie ticket stubs. There are pictures and pins, an obsolete receipt, a forgotten scarf, an old hat, popsicle sticks, and even a pikachu wristwatch. And buried underneath all of it, a pair of matching necklaces. Each item has a story behind it, all giving Mark’s chest a sharp ache that should have been dulled after all these years yet still feels weirdly fresh and irritatingly raw.

He picks up a the popsicle sticks and lets himself reminisce about the heat of summer, the sticky sensation of dried ice cream, and a warm smile.

***

Mark and Jinyoung’s friendship began during the early years of their childhood, when Mark who had just recently moved to town, was crying in the the playground at school because nobody wanted to talk to the new kid. Nobody except a bright child with a bright smile. That was Jinyoung.

Even back then, Mark knew that this boy was special. There was something about his character that Mark found enticing. Maybe it was the genuine smiles he gave Mark. Maybe it was the unending kindness that he showed towards the older. Whatever it was, Mark appreciated him all the same.

Oftentimes, they would play outside in the streets starting from the time school ended to the hour of sunset. These were the hours Mark looked forward to most during the weekdays, the ones when he got to spend time with his favorite friend Jinyoung. They generally spent their time wandering the small street that stretched from Jinyoung’s house to Mark’s.

The road that connected them looked so long and so wide in their young eyes. There was nothing to worry about during these years other than school time, nap time, dinner time, and best friend time.

They became instant best buddies, never going to places without the other. They spent so much time together that their parents had no choice but to become friends as well. It was during the start of their fourth grade when Mark noticed that Jinyoung wasn’t eating a lot for recess. Mark knew that Jinyoung received money to buy food for recess as they had always done the year before. Except these past couple of weeks, it seemed as if it was only Mark who ever bought stuff from the cafeteria.

“Jinyoungie, why aren’t you eating?” Mark had asked one day. The younger boy simply shrugged.

“I’m not really that hungry,” he had explained. Which didn’t make sense to Mark. Mark was forced to eat even when he was not hungry. It was simply ‘the rule’ in their household.

The next day, Mark shared his food with Jinyoung and invited him to his tenth birthday party.

“It’ll be loads of fun!” He said excitedly. “You’re coming, right?”

“Of course, I am!” Jinyoung answered.

And that was how they found themselves during that weekend, Jinyoung showing up to the party, parents in tow and present in hand.

It was poorly wrapped, but it was Mark’s favorite gift all the same. When Mark blew the candles after everyone sang happy birthday, his wish was to be best friends with Jinyoung until they were old and senile.

And when it was time to open the presents, Mark saved the best for last. He knew exactly which one was Jinyoung’s and chose to open it after unboxing everything else. He told Jinyoung just as much.

And when he finally unwrapped the present, Mark immediately fell in love with it. It was a yellow wristwatch, a mouse with red dots for cheeks acting as its main design. Mark knew of it since other kids had wanted it as well, certain that it must have cost two to three weeks worth of lunch money. His young mind didn’t connect the fact that the reason Jinyoung didn’t buy a lot of lunch food the last couple of weeks was so he could use that same money to buy Mark this gift.

Mark gave Jinyoung a tight, friendly hug, thanking him for such a wonderful present.

“You’re welcome,” Jinyoung said, smiling widely. “According to Hyunseok, the cute little mouse is named Pikachu.”

And that was how Mark’s Pikachu collection started.

Several months after that was when they first went to a cart that sold ice cream and popsicles. It was during the summer before their fifth grade, and the sun was unbelievably hot. Mark had leftover allowance from this month, and it was enough to pay for two whole popsicles and two ice cream bars.

Mark and Jinyoung knew the concept of money, understood price and payment, but they were not familiar with the inequality that it brought between families.

Which was why Jinyoung was so shocked when Mark had bought not two but four pieces of ice cream.

“Why are you buying so many?” Jinyoung asked curiously. “There are only two of us.”

Mark’s brows shot up. “You think this is many?”

Jinyoung nodded. Mark was confused. He always bought two of things when he wanted to.

“Well, more to eat, I guess.”

And that was how their trips to get ice cream became a tradition, one that they continued all throughout their friendship. It became their thing, after getting sad, after feeling lonely, after failing a quiz or getting scolded at. It never failed to make them feel better.

They would laugh at all the jokes written on the popsicle sticks. There were ones that made Jinyoung and Mark laugh so hard that their stomach hurt for the next hour. Those ones, Mark physically kept along with the precious images of Jinyoung laughing burnt brightly in his memory.

***

When Mark wakes and walks down to the kitchen, he’s not surprised to see that his mom is already out and about. There’s a steaming cup of tea and a plate of rice, eggs, and hotdogs ready for him to eat. His favorite food for breakfast back during his high school years.

“Eat up, honey,” his mom demands. “I have an errand for you to do today.”

Mark sits down gingerly to eat his morning meal.

“An errand?” He asks with a mouthful of eggs and rice.

“Yes, an errand.” She says as she sips on her coffee. Mark eats with spoonfuls, unsure why he’s so hungry.

“What kind of errand?”

“I need you to deliver something for me,” his mom clarifies. Mark’s brows shoot up. A delivery? He eats another bite of rice and hotdog before replying.

“What kind of delivery?”

“Just a fruit cake to one of our neighbors down the street.”

Mark glances at his mom, munching on his breakfast with an eerie feeling creeping up his body.

“To whom?”

“To Park Jinyoung,” his mom says with certainty, and Mark basically chokes on the hotdog he just bit. He tries to cough it out, but when that proves useless, he takes a swig of the closest liquid in his proximity. The hot tea is boiling, and it burns his whole mouth and throat, but at least he’s not choking anymore. “You know him, right, dear? Weren’t you two close?”

Close doesn’t even cut it. They were the best of friends. They were practically soulmates to anyone who had asked.

“Why do I have to deliver a fruit cake to Jinyoung?” Mark questions, suddenly out of breath.

“It’s my Christmas gift, of course.” His mom answers. “And hurry back since we still need help decorating the Christmas tree.”

His mom’s tone is that of firmness, and Mark knows that no matter what he reasons with, he won’t be able to get out of this one.

He doesn’t feel so hungry now, and quickly finishes the food so that he has time to get ready. It’s his first time seeing Park Jinyoung in eight years. Does he even have anything nice to wear?

Mark brushes his teeth after eating and washing his dishes. His mind wanders as he gets ready for it. Will Jinyoung even talk to him? He wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to. Will Jinyoung even recognize him? Mark doesn’t think he’s changed that much since high school. He still has the same thin figure, the same sharp cheekbones and delicate wrists. The only thing that changed is his hair color. What used to be various shades of red during his teenage years is now a mellow sort of brown.

He picks a neat looking sweater that doesn’t look too flashy that shows he put thought into getting ready, but not so plain that it looks like it’s used for sleepwear. He doesn’t even know why he’s bothering to be so picky. Will Jinyoung even bat an eye at his fashion choice? Surely not, but Mark would rather look pretty after leaving Jinyoung without saying goodbye.

After finishing, Mark grabs the fruit cake and starts on the excruciatingly familiar path. It takes less than two minutes to get there, but he’s already shivering from the cold weather.

Snow fills up the sidewalks, Christmas lights lit on almost every house despite that fact that it’s still morning time and nobody would see the lights in broad daylight.

When he sees the Park residence, Mark begins to get antsy. Will he be alright facing Jinyoung after the last several years? He doesn’t know, but what he is sure of is that his mom will be furious with him if he doesn’t pass her baked cake to his childhood best friend. With an imaginary slap to the face, Mark begins to walk towards the front door.

When he gets to the welcome mat, Mark takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t have to wait long as he already hears the footsteps coming from inside. Each thud brings Mark closer to running away again, but he doesn’t.

It’s been eight years.

The lock of the door clicks, and Mark readies himself.

“Mrs. Tuan, you sure are early this y-”

The door is opened by Jinyoung, hair impossibly perfect during this time of day. He’s wearing a sweater well-suited for the holidays, cheeks pink from the wintry morning and holding a steaming mug of what looks to be coffee.

Jinyoung lets out a gasp and quickly shuts the door on his face. Mark waits on the front steps, ears freezing and hands still full with baked goods.

The door opens once more, revealing a more neutral faced Jinyoung. He clears his throat.

“M-Mark?” Jinyoung asks tentatively. “Is that really you?”

Mark can only look down in shame. Jinyoung still looks beautiful. Other than the stronger jawline and a thicker frame, Jinyoung doesn’t look like he’s changed one bit. He looks just as gorgeous as Mark left him, all big ears and dark hair and bright eyes. His eyebrows look even fuller if that’s possible, lips redder than Mark remembers. Jinyoung’s fingers are restless, as if itching to touch Mark. Or maybe itching to grab the fruit cake so Mark can leave. Mark doesn’t know which he prefers.

“Hey,” Mark answers with a strained smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Eight years but who’s counting,” Jinyoung laughs nervously. He then gestures towards the fruit cake. “I’m guessing that’s from your mom?”

Mark looks down at his mom’s baking and then up again at Jinyoung.

“Yeah,” Mark chuckles, breath caught in his throat. “How’d you know?”

“She usually visits me around this time of the year with a cake of some sort,” Jinyoung shrugs. “Last year it was carrot cake.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Mark doesn’t know what to say, if he should even say anything.

“I didn’t know you were going to be home for the holidays,” Jinyoung comments. “Your mom didn’t mention it.”

And then Jinyoung’s eyes go a little wider for some reason as he backtracks. “Not that she’s supposed to mention it. What you do with your life has nothing to do with me, obviously.”

Jinyoung then shakes his head. “Not that I don’t care about what you do... I do! Just not that much, or like, just however much a long friend would care about it. Gosh. I’ll just shut up now.”

Mark giggles. He’s still too ing cute, even if he does look manlier now. “Okay.”

“You still giggle.” Jinyoung says, almost surprised. And there’s a fond look there that makes Mark’s mouth dry.

“Habit, I suppose.”

And then they’re staring at each other, breaths coming out slowly. Mark wants to drink him all in.

No car passes by, and the winter air chooses that moment to be still and frozen. If Mark couldn’t hear the distant sounds of children playing from the other end of the street, he could’ve sworn time stopped right then and there.

Jinyoung looks at the icy ground and then at Mark’s reddening ears. Mark’s heart can’t help but beat faster from it.

“Do you want to come in?” He asks delicately. “You must be cold.”

“I’m fine, honestly. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrow shoots up. He’s still scarily good at that, it seems. He then places his mug onto a side table before returning back to Mark with his arms splayed out in front of him.

Mark simply eyes it, unsure what he’s supposed to do. A beat or two passes before Jinyoung speaks up.

“Are you not going to give me the fruit cake, Mark?”

Right! The fruit cake. That Mark has. In his hands. Yes.

Mark obediently gives the food to Jinyoung, who takes it graciously.

“Wow, this sure is heavier than last years,” he says to himself as he disappears into the house. “Hopefully it tastes just as good!”

Mark snickers from the doorstep.

“But knowing your mom,” Jinyoung says as he appears once more, smiling widely and dusting his hands on his waist. “I’m sure it tastes great!”

“When did you get so close to my mom,” Mark asks warily. Jinyoung’s smile falters for a quick second.

“About a year or two after we graduated,” Jinyoung’s eyes don’t quite seem as happy as it did earlier. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come inside?”

Mark inspects the house, sees that basically everything is black and white or a shade of gray. He then turns to Jinyoung’s hopeful expression, lips forming his signature camera smile, all close-lipped and dimples in full display.

“I’ll pass for now,” Mark says with a heavy heart. He doesn’t know why he says it when all he wants to do right now is to talk to Jinyoung on the couch all day. Or beg for forgiveness. Maybe play Mario Kart, or beg, or play Mario Kart while begging. “Maybe next time.”

Jinyoung keeps smiling.

“Alright. But we should catch up soon, or something.”

“Of course.”

Mark nods goodbye as Jinyoung does the same. He turns on his heels and begins to walk out the driveway. His feet don’t seem to want to leave, but he struggles through anyway. When he looks back, the door is closed and nobody is waiting by the porch.

Mark’s mood goes down weirdly after that and stays down the whole walk to his parents’ house.

When he gets back he asks his mom when she became so close to Jinyoung.

“A long time ago, honey.” She says as she types on her laptop, glasses on her small face glinting. Working from home must be great. “Why the sudden interest?”

“No reason,” Mark lies. “He just mentioned you two being close, and from the looks of it, contact each other regularly.”

His mom adjusts her glasses and looks away from her laptop. She fixes him a smile. “That sweet boy has experienced so much from this lifetime, too much for someone so young.”

Mark’s brows furrows.

“What happened?” Mark questions, curiosity getting ahead of him. His mom gives him an apologetic look.

“I think it’s best if he tells you about it, honey.” His mom says wistfully. “Ask him to go holiday shopping with you or something. God knows that boy needs to get out of that house, especially during this time of the year.”

She starts to type again on her laptop, and Mark thinks that that’s the end of the conversation.

Mark spends the whole day lounging about, cleaning the already clean house. What exactly happened to his childhood friend? And why exactly are Jinyoung and his mom so close? All of these questions gnaw at Mark for the rest of the morning. Mark tries his hardest to distract himself, but it’s fruitless.

Jinyoung occupies his mind the whole day, and Mark knows there’s no other way to satisfy his curiosity other than going to the source of it. Which is why, after hours of doing absolutely nothing at home, he promises himself that he’ll go over to Jinyoung’s house tomorrow and ask him to do exactly what his mom suggested.

Later that day, when Mark eats his dad’s cooking for dinner, Mark almost cries. This tastes so much better than the junk he eats back abroad. McDonalds and Chinese takeout has nothing on his dad’s cooking. It’s a perfect way to energize him for the grand day tomorrow.