Mr Shy & I Jinyoung x Old Wounds Mark

Mark’s world filled with a song.

The song had interrupted his nap, which by default should have made him hate it. It had been a long and exhausting first day of university, and all he’d wanted to do was curl up for an hour and just sleep all the stress of navigating both classes and social situations communicating through his phone with people who were unused to being around someone like him. It was right when he was seconds away from dozing off that the girls in the dorm room next to his started blasting their music as they had been ever since he’d moved into the dorms two days ago. They had a thing for idol music of the extremely upbeat and repetitive variety, which drove him crazy. He loved his soothing and stimulating classical music over the kind of generic crap these girls were obsessed with, and he was going to be hard pressed to make it through an entire school year having it forced upon him.

But the song that broke into his cloudy mind that had taken its first step into dreamworld was different. It was softer and gentler and somehow ethereal as if it had been created in that very same dreamworld and slipped out into reality. And then when the voice began singing, it felt like notes spilling from the lips of an angel, something that echoed through him and filled his heart with emotions stronger than anything he should have been capable of feeling given his mental and physical exhaustion. They spoke memories to him, memories of a childhood long brushed aside, memories of a boy with dreams and hopes that still existed but not in the same way, a boy who had grown up and still missed the limitless hero he had once been. A boy who missed having a voice, a voice that may have become as beautiful as the one he was now listening to.

A strange sense of absence filled him when the song finished—part of it must have been his own pang of sorrow for his passed childhood, but another part of it felt like he was lost without that voice inside of him, like he would lose a piece of himself if he was never able to hear it again—just like he had felt like he’d lost a piece of himself in losing his own voice.

He looked up the lyrics of the song on his phone, and a name showed up first in the results page: Park Jinyoung from JJ Project.

Mark attended his first JJP event disguised under a face mask and baggy hoodie, feeling overly conscious of the fact that he was probably one of the only males in attendance. A part of him berated himself for not doing the sensible thing and just streaming the show from his laptop to save himself the scrutiny of all the girls who took it as mark of honor that even boys were into their idols, but ever since he’d looked up Jinyoung’s picture to see the face that went along with the beautiful voice, he’d felt a pressing urge to see him in person and see if the in-person version of him lived up to the fantasy version that had taken up residence in Mark's head.

It felt a little bit out of character for him. He’d never been a celebrity-chaser. He wasn’t even someone who was usually attracted to other people at all, given the hopeless feeling of finding someone who would put up with all the complications and baggage he came with. But in this case, it felt like there was almost no other choice. Jinyoung as a whole gave him a special kind of feeling nothing else did. He felt like he understood the world better when looking at it in the lens of Jinyoung’s lyrics, and that listening to Jinyoung’s voice settled his soul even when things in his life felt like they were getting too rough or chaotic for him to deal with.

Because of that feeling, Mark had made the leap and bought the tickets, and he’d wound up lucking out far beyond his expectations by managing to end up with a venue entrance number of 15, which meant he would get to stand in the first row. At first he was excited at the prospect of getting to see Jinyoung up close, but when he actually arrived at the venue with the rest of the standing room ticket holders, and saw firsthand how close he would be, it almost felt burdensome. He was the only male fan even close to the front, so there was a good possibility Jinyoung (and Jaebum) would notice him. What would he do, if that happened? How would he feel? Wouldn’t he just be accepting that delight and joy into his heart only to have nothing reach it in his reality again? He touched his fingers to his throat. Someone like him didn’t belong with someone as shining and glittering as Park Jinyoung.

And then, right when he was beginning to regret that he’d come, JJ Project stepped out onstage and began to perform, and every dark and troubled thought flew from Mark’s mind. The concert planners had left only a small gap between the stage and the partition outlining where the front row would be, so Mark could see the details of Jinyoung’s face closely and even the sweat as it beaded on his forehead. But more than how he looked, he loved watching him sing and the emotions he showed on his face as he did so. He showed the colors of a true songwriter when he sang, showing the deep, emotional connection to his lyrics in each expression and nuance to the point where Mark didn’t want to take his eyes off him lest he miss an important detail. He was almost like a classical musician in his artistry, and his whole self was his instrument. Watching him made Mark feel strangely insufficient, knowing he would never craft an instrument that could perform so vibrantly with his hands.

There was an MC after the opening songs, and Mark listened raptly as Jinyoung and JB interacted. He knew a lot of people wanted the two of them to be an item, and he couldn’t blame them in a way—they did look fantastic together and had a lot of fun when they talked. He felt somewhat envious of JB and their closeness, especially his ability to talk and laugh freely with Jinyoung. Mark would have given anything to be able to do the same. He again touched his throat, keenly feeling the sense of loss inside him.

After the MC, JB left the stage but Jinyoung stayed, and Mark’s breath caught. He had a feeling he knew what this meant, and sure enough, the opening notes of “My Hero” began, and Mark was pulled back to that first memory of hearing his voice and the sleeping part it had awakened in him.

It didn’t take long for the too-muchness of the moment to hit him hard. The combination of that memory, the reality in front of him, the beauty of Jinyoung’s voice, and the depth of his words struck him all at once and squeezed his heart so strongly and wistfully that he felt tears coming to his eyes and leaking out. He tried to push them back, but the similar emotion he could see in Jinyoung’s eyes only made them fall harder. He felt happy to exist in this kind of moment where he could connect even deeper to a song and artist that mattered so much to him, but at the same time sad with the knowledge that it was only one moment, and the second it ended, it would leak away from him and all he would be left with were slippery drops of a memory.

Jinyoung was walking closer to their part of the stage and came to a stop as he was singing the chorus. His eyes closed for a moment as he worked through the notes, and then opened again right as he faced in Mark’s direction. Their eyes met, and Mark furiously blinked away his tears, a little embarrassed that his one second of contact with Jinyoung was while he was bawling, but when he opened his eyes fully again, he realized it wasn’t just a second of contact. Jinyoung was still looking at him with a soft expression, and was kneeling down to be more level with him and the rest of the first row. The girl to his left was screaming wildly at this, but Mark barely noticed. His entire world filled up with Jinyoung’s face.

Jinyoung reached into his pocket as he continued to sing and pulled out a tissue. Still holding Mark’s eyes, he reached out and extended it towards him, leaving it dangling from the tips of his fingers for a moment until Mark’s body finally reacted and he reached up and took it. Their fingers didn’t touch, but it somehow felt like he could feel the traces of their heat on the tissue when he had it fully in his hands—or at least that’s what he fooled himself into thinking.

Still looking at Mark, Jinyoung ran his thumb under his own eye as if to say ‘now, wipe those tears away!’ When Mark dabbed his eyes, a bit of lightness returned to Jinyoung’s expression, and he rose back up on his feet as he sang goodbye youth, see you again.

Mark needed another fix, so when JJP released their new album, he bought enough copies to build a fort with so he could go to the fan sign. To Mark, this was even more high-pressure than being in the first row. This time, he would have to communicate with Jinyoung in the limited way he could and hope it would be enough. In the weeks leading up to the event, he had written and rewritten plenty of things he’d wanted to say to Jinyoung, going back and forth with himself about what he most needed to convey in his limited time before he finally settled on something and saved it to his speech software.

Even though he’d planned everything out, he still felt like a mess of nerves when the day finally came. He’d seen videos of fan signs before, and he knew the feeling was much less distant than at concerts—the room would be well lit, and he would be more visible. Part of Mark wanted that attention, but another part of him worried that he’d go crazy if he had it. Whatever the case was, the attention he immediately received from the fangirls when he took his seat was a pretty big sign that he would be noticed whether he was prepared to be or not.

The worries all flew out of his mind as soon as JJP stepped out onto the stage. He’d loved seeing Jinyoung all decked out for the stage, but it felt even more incredible to see him appearing more naturally, as if he was any regular person Mark could meet and hang out with in real life—even though there was still that brilliant and unreachable air around him that still made Mark feel as if he’d never truly be on his level.

The event started with a different kind of MC than they’d had in their concerts—JB and Jinyoung seemed to be going completely unscripted and responded instead to the flow of the fans and what was being called out to them. They seemed a little less chic and a lot more companionable, and they were laughing and having fun freely much in the way they did when Mark was watching them on V-app. He loved the sound of Jinyoung’s laughter, and couldn’t stop grinning whenever he heard it.

Jinyoung looked in his direction within the first five minutes, right in the middle of one of Mark’s ear-to-ear smiles. Jinyoung’s lips quirked, and he tilted his head, looking at him out of the corner of his eye with a slightly raised eyebrow. It wasn’t a look Mark knew how to read, but he only knew that it made his heart race—unsurprisingly, since any gaze from Jinyoung could probably have that effect.

Mark had worried a little he might make light of his being there by calling out the fact that there was a male fan in attendance and asking him to account for himself, but to his relief, he didn’t. Instead, he seemed to make little follow up glances to his area, particularly after he said something funny, as if he wanted to check to see if it had made Mark smile.

Then came the fan sign. Mark was in the middle of the room, so he was left to watch the earlier rows go up first. It was a little bit of a reality check, seeing that Jinyoung looked specially at every person who approached him as if they were the most extraordinary person in the world. It was a kind thing to do, but humbled Mark into remembering that even if Jinyoung was a little curious about him as a male fan—a sensitive male fan who bawled in the middle of concerts—he was still a fan, and just one of thousands.

Finally, it came time for their row to go up, and Mark’s nerves went into overdrive. His heart was practically in his mouth when line security told him to move down the table to kneel in front of Jinyoung. Jinyoung was already smiling at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and filled with warmth as if he was reconnecting with an old friend. “We finally meet,” he said—Mark was already documenting these as the first words ever said to him by Park Jinyoung. “To start, I’d like a name to pair with the face.”

He slid the paper he’d prepared to Jinyoung: I’m Mark, it said. I’m mute, so I’ll be talking to you through my phone. I hope that’s OK.

“Mark.” He pronounced it like ‘Ma-keu’. He looked up at him, and Mark was surprised he wasn’t looking sympathetic, but rather gentle and encouraging. “I was thinking you weren’t Korean. I’m glad something brought you to Korea, though, so you could be our fan and meet us like this. Please feel free to communicate with me however you feel comfortable.” And then, to Mark's amazement, he signed Thank you for coming.

Mark must have looked completed bowled over, since Jinyoung smiled gently and said, "Our manager told us we'd have KSL speaker coming today. You had to make a special request to our team in order to use your phone up here, right? I didn't know it would be you in particular, but I wanted to learn a bit of that fan's language so I could speak with them a little better. I wish I knew more."

“I just wanted to tell you,” Mark said, playing his prepared speech from his text-to-speech app while signing along with his hands, “that I heard your song ‘My Hero’ a few months ago, and it changed my life. I’ve never heard a song that beautiful before that touched me so much, and I love your lyrics and I love your voice, and getting to know about you and have your music in my life has made everything better and it’s motivated me so much, so thank you.”

“And here I’m the one who should be saying ‘thank you.’” Jinyoung said. Mark could almost see his expression visibly melting. “I could see at our concert how much it meant to you, and as a singer and songwriter, that meant so much to me. Maybe I shouldn't be taking motivation out of anyone's tears, but still, it made me feel as if I had done something right, by making something someone like you could connect so deeply to.”

Mark didn’t even know how to process the fact that Jinyoung had not only remembered him, but had taken strength from his reaction, especially when he’d assumed Jinyoung would mostly be caught off-guard by his condition and as uncertain how to communicate naturally with him, just as everyone else was. “There's no way it was motivation bigger than what you've given me,” he typed into his app frantically. “Even just your smile gives me energy. It's my favorite smile in the world because of your eye whiskers.”

Jinyoung grinned, displaying them prominently. “Oh good, if my smile is your favorite, that means JB’s not your favorite member, right? I wanted to be your favorite. But you’re being too nice about these old things.” He pointed to his whiskers. “They’re nothing special.”

“Don’t say that! Everything about you is incredibly special.” His app, of course, didn’t express this as passionately as Mark wanted to, but he signed along with the words empathically so Jinyoung would understand his tone in that way instead.

“I don’t really know what to do about someone who looks like a foreign model saying that to me. I feel like you should be the idol and I’m the one who should be your fan.”

Mark shook his head vehemently. “But you’re meant to be an idol. The girls who live next door to me play idol music constantly, and you sing better than all of them, and you’re probably the best dancer and the best writer and the best looking. I’m a classical pianist, so I know a lot about technique and delivery, and you’re definitely by far and away the best.”

Jinyoung waved his hands. “And now you’re just plumping up my ego! I’m by no means the best at anything I do, but…I think I wouldn’t mind you continuing to think I’m the best, so I’ll continue to work hard, all right?” Finally, he picked up his marker and began writing down a message in Mark’s album—seemingly a fairly long one, since he didn’t immediately look back up. When he finished, he shut the album and passed it back to Mark. To Mark’s surprise, he then reached out and drew his thumb along the curve of Mark’s lower lash line, as if sweeping up imaginary tears. “It’s a little late, but that’s what I wanted to do,” he said softly. “When I saw you crying.”

Mark couldn’t even begin to function enough to grab his phone and respond to this, but just stared at him, his entire body flooding with a pulsing heat. Jinyoung gazed back at him, not saying anything, just slowly drawing his thumb away and smiling. They remained looking at each other for a few more long moments until a manager appeared behind Jinyoung and cleared his throat.

“Jinyoung-ah, if your fan challenged you to a staring contest, I need you to wrap it up so we can move the line along.”

Jinyoung blinked. “Fine, fine. Let him have a default victory so he can go on Twitter and tell all our fans I at staring contests.” He grinned one more time at Mark. “Come back to visit me lots, Mark. I’ll write more songs and practice more sign language and give you all kinds of things to feel if you stick around as my fan.”

After having Jaebum sign his album, Mark walked numbly back to his seat, barely able to believe what had just happened. Both his brain and heart could barely process a moment of it, and he felt short of breath, about ready to collapse into his fold out chair with emotional exhaustion.

He opened the album to the page Jinyoung had signed, and read the message to himself.

Mark—I feel like I must be the luckiest person to have someone like you like me so much. I always want to give more to my fans than they give to me, but you gave me maybe 10x the motivation I’ve given to you. Thank you, thank you. I am sorry I am not quite the perfect Jinyoung you see in your eyes, but I will work hard so I’m not giving back nothing for the everything you expect of me. I promise to learn some more signs for you, too--I think the lyrics to "My Hero" would be a good place to start, don't you?

If you become a famous pianist, maybe next time I can attend your concert as your fan! Until then, please keep your eyes only on me!  –Park Jinyoung-