“Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung felt an involuntary shudder at the sound of his voice being hissed at him in such a cold, whispery voice. He almost didn’t want to turn around, but it came again seconds later, slightly louder. “Jinyoung!”

He turned, and instantly regretted it. Walking behind him was his classmate Mark Tuan. As in Stoneface Mark Tuan, the guy his entire grade was collectively terrified of. The guy who, if rumors were to be believed, was a violent leader of a one-man gang whose personal mission was to terrorize basically anyone who fell under his notice.

And Jinyoung, it seemed, had just fallen under his notice.

Jinyoung froze in his tracks, heart plummeting. A million different ways Mark could kill him or at least cause him great physical pain and emotional embarrassment played out in his mind. No, this couldn’t be happening. He was far too young to die and far too sensitive to bear any other type of humiliation. Why in the world did Mark have to single him out, when Jinyoung tried to live his life in such a way that he wasn’t a bother to anybody?

“Hey,” Mark said. He looked like he was sweating. A pre-murder adrenaline rush? “Come to my locker after class. I mean…could you?” He said this last bit in an icy undertone that suggested it wasn’t a request, but an order.

Jinyoung felt like vomiting. The last person who had been asked to go to Mark’s locker after class, BamBam, had wound up blackmailed, threatened, and traumatized from the experience. But it wasn’t like he could say ‘no’. If he did, Mark would probably skip the blackmail and broadcast whatever he had on Jinyoung to the entire school. But what blackmail could he have? Jinyoung never did anything wrong. He barely did anything at all.

Instead of giving an answer, Jinyoung just squeaked. Mark seemed to take this as an affirmative. “Good,” he said. He cracked his knuckles. “See you then.”

I’m dead, Jinyoung thought as Mark walked away. Might as well just say my prayers and get ready to meet my maker.

He numbly walked to his next class of the day. When he saw BamBam sitting in his usual place in the back row, he hurried over, half collapsing in front of his desk.

“BamBam,” he said, his voice coming out like a croak. “When Mark asked you to come to his locker last week, what actually happened?”

BamBam immediately shuddered. “It was terrible. I showed up because it’s not like I’m about to cross that guy, and as soon as he looked at me, I knew it was game over. You know that look he gets, that murder look? Try having that just inches away from your face and directed right at you. Anyways, he pushed this envelope into my hands and asked me to open it. I did, and inside were these pictures of me.” BamBam lowered his voice. “Like, horrific pictures. From the time I had to dress up as Lee Hyori because I lost a bet with Jackson. That was how I knew he was going to blackmail me. So I asked him what he wanted from me. And he said…” BamBam shivered again. “He said ‘I want you to sign away all your rights.’”

Jinyoung frowned. It certainly didn’t sound good, but he didn’t quite get it. “What did he mean?”

“It wasn’t like I was going to ask him to explain, man! But I took it to mean he wants me to be his slave, or something. I just yelled ‘Whatever you want, just please don’t kill me!’ and ran away.” He paused. “Why are you asking?”

“Because he asked me to come to his locker when classes are over.”

BamBam grimaced. “Just do whatever he asks. Agree to everything, or who knows what he’ll do to you?”

“But I don’t want to be his slave! What if he…I dunno…asks me to rob a convenience store or something? What has he asked you to do?”

“Nothing yet. But I’m sure he’s just biding his time. Whatever it is, it’s going to be bad. That’s all I can say.”

This didn’t do much to make Jinyoung feel better. He spent the entire class anxiously biting his nails and trying to think of ways to explain it to his mother when he ended up in jail after being press-ganged as Mark’s lackey. This was going to be the end of him.

After class, he went dutifully to Mark’s locker. Mark turned to look at him. There it was: the murder face. And in his hand was an envelope. It was red, the very color of blood. Jinyoung began to shake.

Mark bit his lip for a moment, then extended the envelope, pushing it into Jinyoung’s trembling hands. “Open it,” he said.

Jinyoung couldn’t even imagine what pictures Mark had of him—not because there were a lot of scenarios to choose from, but because Jinyoung couldn’t recall ever doing anything particularly horrific that anyone could catch him at. Unless Mark had a hidden camera in Jinyoung’s bedroom, there surely couldn’t be anything, could there?

But apparently there had to be, if Mark had an envelope, just as he had with BamBam. Just do whatever he asks, BamBam’s voice echoed in his head. Agree to everything.

“I’ll do it!” Jinyoung blurted out, ing the envelope back to Mark. It didn’t really matter what was inside. He really didn’t want to know.

Mark blinked, looking caught off-guard. “You will?”

“Yes! It’s fine with me!”

“You…you’re not even going to look at it?”

“I don’t need to. The answer is ‘yes.’”

“Oh.” Mark took the envelope back, staring down at it. Little by little, his cheeks began to turn red. Oh no, I’ve made him angry, Jinyoung thought wildly. What do I do? But after a moment, Mark said, “Good. That’s great.”

Yup, totally great that you’ll now have yet another slave to help you carry out your wicked deeds. Meanwhile, my life is over. Wonderful.

Mark pulled out his phone and opened it to his contact’s screen. “I’ll need your phone number.”

“I-Is that necessary?”

Mark gave him a look. “How am I supposed to contact you outside of class if I don’t have your phone number?”

This of course made sense since the worst of his crimes most likely happened outside of school, but the thought of Mark having the means to contact him whenever he felt like didn’t do anything to soothe Jinyoung’s very frayed nerves. Still, Jinyoung grimaced and gave him the number. Maybe he could pretend he wasn’t answering any calls or texts because he was asleep or in the shower. At all times.

When Mark finished inputting the number, he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something further, but Jinyoung stopped him before he could. “I think that concludes our business for now,” Jinyoung squeaked. “I have to go!”

“But-” Mark started to say. Jinyoung didn’t wait for him to finish. He his heel and ran down the hallway until he was all the way out the front doors.

Mark texted him once at 7 PM. It was the picture of a puppy. He looks like u, was the accompanying message. Jinyoung wondered if it was because Mark kicked puppies in his spare time, and this meant he was intending to kick Jinyoung.

Jinyoung sent back a neutral emoji of a dog in case Mark was expecting a reply and would punish him for not responding.

At 9 PM, Mark sent him a screenshot of the song he was listening to on Melon, “Pretty U” by Seventeen. It didn’t match his image at all.

At 10:30 PM, he texted ‘Goodnight.’ In Jinyoung’s head, it translated to the most threatening ‘goodnight’ he’d ever received. Jinyoung texted him an emoji of the moon just in case.

In the morning, after he’d eaten breakfast, he received another text. This one just said: Come outside.

Oh, god, Jinyoung thought. He knows where I live. There was no way he could ignore this summons, or else Mark might start pounding on the door and threatening his family. Jinyoung scrambled into some all black clothes and a face mask, to make it hard for the police to identify him when he was caught on camera trying to rob a bank.

Mark was waiting outside. He was dressed in a remarkably unthreatening fashion—a pastel pink sweater and nice jeans. Maybe this was to throw people off his trail while he was misbehaving. He was also holding onto a leash with a curly white dog squirming on its end.

Oh my god, we really are going to be kicking puppies, Jinyoung thought despairingly. Who in the world had allowed someone like Mark to own a dog? It was too terrible to think of. Before the kicking commenced, Jinyoung was going to have to find a way to set the poor thing free.

“Morning,” Mark said stiffly. He extended his hand. Jinyoung stared at it. What was he expecting? A tribute donation? Jinyoung dug in his pockets, turning up nothing. “I don’t have any money,” Jinyoung said.

“That’s fine,” Mark said.  He reached forward, grabbing Jinyoung’s hand in his own. As Jinyoung sputtered in surprise, Mark made a strange face, then began dragging Jinyoung forward, down the road with him. His face was flushed again, as it did when he was angry. Jinyoung decided to keep his mouth shut and let Mark pull him along to wherever they were going. The little dog trotted beside them happily, fuzzy little tail wagging.

They ended up in a nearby dog park. Once they were inside the park’s fencing, Mark released the little dog from its leash and it bounded happily towards the other dogs that were there. Jinyoung exhaled in relief. It looked like they weren’t going to be kicking it after all. However, he wasn’t fully relaxed. Mark was still holding tightly onto his hand and didn’t show any signs of letting go.

“His name is Milo,” Mark said.

“OK,” Jinyoung responded, not knowing what else to say. “He’s your dog?”

“Yes.”

“You like dogs?”

“Yes.”

Well, that was at least one non-terrifying personality trait, unless he also bred attack dogs and was planning on feeding Milo to them one day. But even as Jinyoung thought it, he knew that couldn’t be true. Even now, Mark’s eyes were following his dog in a vaguely fond look for someone who typically looked chronically pissed.

“So, um,” Jinyoung said, clearing his throat. “What would you like me to do?”

Mark looked confused for a moment. “Just…talk…I guess?”

That was simple enough. “What would you like me to say?” Probably blackmail related stuff. He’d have to spill all the horrible gossip he knew or confess his darkest secrets for Mark to use against him. When Mark had enough ammunition, then he could be sure Jinyoung was fully his slave. Then the bank robbing would likely commence.

“Tell me about what you like,” Mark commanded.

It wasn’t what Jinyoung had been expecting, but perhaps Mark wanted to know which of Jinyoung’s precious items and important people he could hold for ransom. Still, Jinyoung wasn’t brave enough to decline to answer. He told Mark about his favorite books and movies, his favorite places to visit, his hobbies, his future plans. Mark seemed to be listening intently, making mental notes of everything he heard.

“That’s it, I guess,” Jinyoung said when he’d finished. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t interesting.”

“It was fine,” Mark said shortly. “Thank you.”

He was rather polite, Jinyoung realized, in spite of his often dark tone. It was rather disturbing to hear the words ‘thank you’ spoken like a veiled threat.

Milo ran back over, leaping up Mark’s legs. Mark scratched behind Milo’s ears, and the little dog closed his eyes, panting in delight.

After a moment, Mark swooped the dog up into his arms and extended him to Jinyoung. “Hold him,” he ordered.

Jinyoung dutifully took Milo, cradling him against his chest. Milo regarded him curiously, but didn’t struggle to get away from him. Jinyoung carefully his fur. Mark pulled out his camera and started snapping photos.

Blackmail?, Jinyoung immediately thought. But even he couldn’t stretch an innocent picture of him holding a puppy into any sort of blackmail ammunition. He quietly let Mark take the picture, and even gave a faint smile.

The whole thing confused him. What manner of game was Mark playing with him? If he wanted to make Jinyoung his obedient slave as he had done with BamBam, what was with this formality of taking him to a dog park and snapping photos of him with Milo? Was it to lure him into a false sense of security? Was it to win his loyalty by pretending he was a good person?

Mark took several photos before tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I want to stop at the convenience store,” he said.

And here comes the robbery, Jinyoung thought.

After getting Milo back on his leash, Mark again snatched Jinyoung’s hand. This time he was less forceful with his dragging; maybe because Jinyoung was slightly less hesitant to follow as he had been. At least robbing a convenience store would make sense compared to whatever they’d just done.

They arrived at 7-11, and Mark dropped Jinyoung’s hand. “Wait outside with Milo,” he said.

Good, I’m just the lookout, Jinyoung thought, sighing in relief as Mark went into the 7-11 alone. He bent down and patted Milo’s head, and Milo happily his fingers. This isn’t so bad, at least.

Mark returned a few minutes later with a plastic bag in his hands. He pulled out a tea bottle and extended it to Jinyoung. Jinyoung eyed it warily. Was it stolen?

“You said it was your favorite,” Mark said, a bit snappishly. “I bought it for you. Take it.”

“OK!” Jinyoung squeaked, hastily taking the bottle. He had indeed mentioned it when he’d told Mark all his favorites. And Mark had bought it for him? Why?

“Sorry,” Mark mumbled, ing his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t mean to sound angry.”

“You always sound angry,” Jinyoung said without thinking. Then he flushed and also muttered, “Sorry.”

“I know. I hated my Korean tutor. I was always pissed off during lessons, so I got used to speaking like this.”

Huh, Jinyoung thought. He wondered if some of the times people thought Mark had been threatening them were misunderstandings because of his sharp tone. But then again, how to explain the blackmail incident with BamBam? And this weird way he was dragging Jinyoung along with him today?

Jinyoung still didn’t get it. He just popped open his tea bottle and sipped it. It tasted fantastic.

Mark didn’t grab his hand on the way home. They walked side by side in silence. Jinyoung noticed a film of sweat on Mark’s forehead, though it wasn’t that hot outside.

At last they reached Jinyoung’s house. Mark shuffled his feet, looking awkward. He looked like he wanted to say or maybe do something, but just kept standing there, eyes darting back and forth.

“Well,” Jinyoung said.

“Tomorrow at 4?” Mark asked, finally.

“Tomorrow at 4 what?”

“Meet me right here?”

Jinyoung sighed. Would the real trouble begin tomorrow? Or would Mark act just as oddly as he had today?

“OK,” Jinyoung said, still not willing to be contrary and incite Mark’s wrath. “See you.”

And with that, he spun around and hurried into his house.

He felt weird. He’d started out terrified, but he didn’t feel scared now. Just confused. And oddly fascinated. He wondered how Mark’s behavior today factored into who he was overall. Taken at face value, it had all been rather simple and kind. He’d proved to be a loving dog owner. He’d bought Jinyoung his favorite drink. At times, he’d seemed awkward and shy.

And yet he was the same person with a red envelope filled with blackmail material on Jinyoung. Everyone knew he was an awful, terrible person. But where had that awful, terrible person been today?

Jinyoung went up to his room, determined to put it out of his mind. It didn’t work very well. He wanted to call BamBam and ask what he made of Mark’s behavior, but at the same time, he felt like it was something private that he didn’t necessarily want to share.

Before bed, Mark sent him another Melon screenshot, this time “Adore U” by Seventeen. Either he was speaking in a code beyond Jinyoung’s comprehension, or else he just really liked Seventeen.  Jinyoung played the song as he was brushing his teeth. Could a one-man gang really like such adorable music?

We’ll see what tomorrow brings, Jinyoung thought as he drifted off to sleep. I almost kind of want to see him. Just to figure out what will happen…

Jinyoung left the house at promptly four the next afternoon. Mark was waiting outside just as he had the day before, though this time Milo wasn’t with him. It struck Jinyoung suddenly how handsome he was. Of course, Mark had always been handsome, but it was hard to notice sometimes over his air of intimidation. All the same, it was so glaringly obvious now that Jinyoung couldn’t help but wonder why he’d never properly appreciated it before.

“Hey,” Mark said. If Jinyoung wasn’t mistaking it, the look in Mark’s eyes changed when he saw him. They became…softer? It caught Jinyoung off-guard.

He’d always thought of those same eyes as cold.

“Hi,” Jinyoung said. He thought he pulled it off less squeakily than he had previously.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“No. It’s still early.”

“Good.” Mark extended his hand. “Come with me.”

This time, Jinyoung took it on his own. Maybe because he knew if he didn’t, he’d still wind up dragged to wherever Mark was going. But all the same, it felt nothing like dragging as they walked down the street together. It felt instead exactly like how holding hands was supposed to feel.

The moment Jinyoung thought of it, his cheeks turned red. No way. He wasn’t holding hands with the terror of his class. Mark wouldn’t hold his hand, he’d be far more likely to twist it and snap his wrist, right? They were just…technically…holding onto one another’s hands. But not holding hands holding hands.

The more Jinyoung thought about it, the stupider it sounded. So he tried not to think about it. Though it was rather hard not to, what with Mark…holding his hand. Jinyoung sighed.

They walked down the streets together, mostly quiet. Mark looked several times like he wanted to say something, but kept stopping himself. Jinyoung wondered why that was. He’d already promised to do whatever Mark wanted. Why couldn’t Mark just spit it out and demand something of him? What was holding him back?

“Are you ever going to make me do something?” Jinyoung wondered out loud.

“Make you do something?” Mark echoed. A second later, his cheeks flushed. “I w-wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do. P-Promise.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“The point?” Mark looked confused. “Am I misunderstanding the word ‘make’? You mean it like ‘force,’ right? You wouldn’t want me to force you to do something…right?”

“Of course I wouldn’t!”

“Then it’s no problem. I won’t.”

“Then why would you blackmail me?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know ‘blackmail.’” He butchered the Korean pronunciation as he said it.

How could someone like him not know that word?, Jinyoung marveled. But before he could explain it, they arrived at a building. “Here,” Mark said. He opened the door and pulled Jinyoung inside.

It was an art studio. Paintings of landscapes covered the walls, and one of a flower garden was propped up on an easel in the middle of the room. It looked like something from the Goyang Flower Festival and was quite beautiful.

“Did you paint that?” Jinyoung asked.

“No. My aunt did. This is her studio.”

“Oh.” Jinyoung had envisioned the Tuan family as a mafia or yakuza type clan. Apparently not, if they were painting flowers. Was Mark the black sheep? But Jinyoung immediately resisted the idea. Mark somehow felt more at place in this very floral art studio than he did in all the back alleys and abandoned warehouses Jinyoung had once imagined him.

Now that Jinyoung thought of it, he’d never actually seen Mark terrorize any of his classmates. There was BamBam, of course, but other than that, nothing but people just assuming he was an iljin based on his waspish tone, stony face, and dyed hair. People were scared of him more so for his presentation than any real wrong he’d done.

Did we get him wrong?, Jinyoung wondered now. Is this who he really is?

There was a set of stairs to the side of the room, and Mark pulled Jinyoung up. It led to a loft with a small rounded table set in the middle with a dish of quiche Lorraine and small plates with sliced baguette and what looked like a small stack of macarons to the side.

But what was truly incredible were the walls. To the immediate right, the wall was covered in hundreds of photographs which piece by piece formed an image of the Eiffel Tower at dusk. The wall to the back showed a dusk view of the Seine, again formed by photographs, and the wall to the left was a collage of many different photos of various landmarks around Paris, from sidewalk cafes to the Champs-Elysées.   

“You said you wanted to go to Paris,” Mark said quietly. “Yesterday, when you talked about all the things you were interested in. I’ve been there before, so I brought Paris to you.”

“B-But that was yesterday,” Jinyoung stammered, dumbfounded. “Y-You did all of this…since then?”

Mark shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “I had all the pictures already. I just put them together. And…learned how to make quiche Lorraine. I bought the bread and the macarons.”

Jinyoung stared at him. It was like he was in the presence of an entirely different person. No, that was wrong. He was in the presence of the real person. The version of Mark he’d never fully seen before until now. And that Mark wasn’t scary at all, not the slightest bit. Jinyoung wondered how he could have ever thought he would beat someone up or rob a convenience store when he now seemed far more likely to sweep someone off their feet and steal their heart.

Not that this described what was happening to Jinyoung at that exact moment. Possibly.

“Come on, let’s eat before the quiche gets cold,” Mark said, pulling Jinyoung to the table. Jinyoung plopped down, still feeling a bit lost in the clouds. This wasn’t a dream, was it?

“Don’t tell anyone, but I got wine,” Mark said, pulling it out from under the table. “Is that OK? If you don’t want to drink, I understand. I know we’re underage and all. I just thought it would be more Parisian, if there was wine.”

These definitely weren’t the words of someone well accustomed to breaking rules. But Jinyoung didn’t mind breaking this particular one with him. A little wine sounded perfect. Even more dreamlike than everything already was.

“Sure, I’ll have some,” Jinyoung said.

Mark poured him a glass, then served him a slice of quiche. Jinyoung tried it. It was delightful. For someone who’d just learned the recipe, he’d gotten the crust of the quiche perfectly flaky.

“Like it?” Mark asked anxiously, as if the fate of the world depended on Jinyoung’s approval.

Jinyoung nodded vigorously. Mark sighed in relief.

“Those are really nice photos,” Jinyoung commented, nodding to the walls as Mark started serving himself. “I didn’t know you were so into taking them.”

“That’s how I got to be president of the yearbook committee.”

“You’re president of the yearbook committee?”

“Yeah. Well, there are only four members. But yes.” Mark’s eyes widened suddenly. “Wait, you’re friends with BamBam, right?”

Jinyoung’s stomach sank a little. “Yes.”

“Great! Can you get him to sign the waiver form? I need it to use those pictures of him crossdressing in the yearbook. They’re really great candids. Committee Vice President Jackson took them, but we can’t use them without BamBam’s permission.”

Jinyoung choked. “That’s what you meant when you told him you wanted him to sign away all his rights?”

“Yes.” Mark’s brows furrowed. “Was that wrong of me?”

“Not wrong…just the phrasing is strange. It made it sound like…nevermind. I’ll clear it up with him.” Jinyoung shook his head in amazement. What a misunderstanding! But that meant…were the contents of the red envelope just pictures Mark had wanted to use in the yearbook but needed Jinyoung’s permission for? But if so, why had Jinyoung agreeing to it amounted to a trip to the dog park and a whole faux Parisian café?

“You never had any of intention of bullying me,” Jinyoung said slowly.

“Bully you?” Mark asked in surprise. “Why would I bully my own boyfriend? Unless…” He blushed. “Unless that’s what you like, but…I think it would be hard for me to be mean to you, even if you wanted me to, Jinyoung.”

Boyfriend? Jinyoung nearly dropped his wine glass. Does he mean me? How and when did that happen?!?

But he had a sudden feeling like he knew. It all made sense. The exchange of phone numbers, the texts, the outings, the questioning about Jinyoung’s likes and immediate desire to fulfill them.

“Mark,” Jinyoung said. “Do you happen to have the envelope you were going to give to me still?”

“Not with me.” Mark looked at him warily. “You said you didn’t need to look at it, didn’t you?”

“I changed my mind. I want to know what it said.”

“B-But you said yes already.”

“It was rude of me to do that without reading it first. I really think I need to read it, Mark.”

“Well…I have a version saved in my Notes app before I wrote it down. But…” Mark bit his lip. “I wrote it down so I wouldn’t have to say it aloud.”

“What’s wrong with saying it aloud if you were OK with me reading it?”

“You know my tone of voice is no good. I didn’t want you to misunderstand it, like everyone does when I say something and they think I’m threatening them even though I’m not. I wanted you to take it seriously.”

“I will. I promise. I know you’re not threatening me.”

Mark took out his phone, slowly unlocking it and going through the apps, looking frequently back at Jinyoung as if waiting for him to change his mind. Jinyoung didn’t. His heart was racing. It felt like he could barely keep up with it.

Mark sighed and finally began to read aloud. “Dear Jinyoung,” he said in a stiff voice. “You probably won’t be happy receiving a letter like this from someone like me. You deserve a sun, rather than a cold moon following after you. Someone bright and shining. But the thing is, whenever I’m around you, I still feel pulled into your orbit. And I wonder, if I’m around you, if you shine on me, if I soak in your light, will I shine enough from that light to deserve you?

“I love your light. I love your kindness. You’re the kind of person I would like to be, but at the same time, I don’t want to be you because I’m in love with you. I want to be a me who can be loved by you. I want to know your favorite food and eat it with you. I want to know your favorite color and wrap you up in a blanket of it.

“I would like to be your boyfriend. You don’t have to say yes. But I hope at the very least having someone love you will make you happy and smile. Because that’s what I love most of all.” Mark set down his phone, burying his face in his hands. “Why did you make me read it? It sounds so corny when I say it aloud.”

“It sounds,” Jinyoung said tremulously, “like the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Ever.”

“Really?” Mark looked up hopefully. Then his brow furrowed, giving him an angry look, though Jinyoung knew now he didn’t have an angry feeling in him at all. “You’re crying?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung said, wiping his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because that was beautiful.”

“I wasn’t trying to make it beautiful. It’s just what I feel about you.” He grabbed his napkin and reached across the table, patting Jinyoung’s wet cheeks.

“I don’t deserve it. I thought you were scary, too, just like everyone else did.”

“I am scary,” Mark said solemnly. “It’s my face. I’m working on it.”

“But your face is so handsome! It’s not fair that we just assume it’s scary because you’re always frowning.”

Mark smiled a little. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Of course, you are. You have to have heard that before.”

“Maybe. But not from you.”

Jinyoung sat back, snapping out of his tears. There was no time to cry right now. He was suddenly very aware that he still didn’t know very much at all about this version of Mark, who was decidedly not a one-man gang of all around terror. And he needed to know it all. Desperately.

“Tell me everything,” Jinyoung said. “What’s your favorite place? The food you like? Your favorite flower?”

“Hmm?” Mark asked, tilting his head.

“I…I want to shower you in the petals of your favorite flower.” Jinyoung’s cheeks heated up. “Wow, it really does sound corny when you say it aloud.”

But the way Mark was smiling, brightly and in the most un-terrifying, adorable way Jinyoung had ever seen, made it all worth it.

They walked home holding hands. Really holding hands. Now that Jinyoung wasn’t so confused, he reveled in the feel of it. Mark’s skin was so warm and soft, so comforting. The whole night felt filled with a bubbly, happy feeling. No wonder Mark was always listening to Seventeen when he thought of him.

As they got closer to Jinyoung’s house, a sheen of sweat once again spotted Mark’s forehead. Why is he still nervous?, Jinyoung wondered. But then suddenly it came on him. He knew exactly why. And knowing why made him smile even harder.

They stopped at Jinyoung’s front door. Mark shuffled his feet. “W-Well,” he said. “See you at school tomorrow?”

“You aren’t just going to leave, are you?” Jinyoung asked. “Without a proper goodbye?”

“Huh?”

Jinyoung threw his arms around Mark’s neck and kissed him. Mark made a little startled noise, but it was only momentary. As soon as he got a handle on what was happening, he wrapped his arms around Jinyoung’s waist, lifted him up, and happily spun him around. Jinyoung kissed him harder. Everything about it felt exactly right. Like devouring his favorite meal. Like walking the streets of Paris. Like being enveloped in his favorite color, the blistering white of the brightest light.

They broke apart, and Mark almost dropped him, seemingly dry of all his energy. Jinyoung smiled and landed lightly on his feet. “I don’t feel like I gave you a proper answer before,” he said. “I’m sorry. But yes. I would most definitely like to be your boyfriend, Mark Tuan.”

When Jinyoung was back inside, he immediately hurried upstairs and to his window looking down onto the street below. Mark was hunched over into a squat, looking completely shell-shocked. Jinyoung had never seen a face that red before.

After a moment, Mark suddenly shot to his feet, pumping his fists skyward. “YES!” he whooped, loudly enough that a few of the neighbors opened their doors to tell him to shut up.

Jinyoung fell back on his bed, face overcome by an irrepressible grin of pure delight. Only yesterday he would have never believed it, but now he was hoping there were more red envelopes in his future, each to be accepted with a yes just as enthusiastic as that.