At twilight, they fall from the sky. They mold onto the grass, melt into the glass windows and metal hoods of the cars lined along the parking lot. Streets surrender to their chill, and they blink white upon passing the buzzing streetlights on their way down. Silently, they accrue at the bottom of the plastic slide.

Up above, the young moon peeks at two young men. One holds onto cold chains, half-heartedly swaying back and forth on an old swing set. From across the lot, surrounded by the first sign of this winter’s snow, breath coming out in smokes, the other cups his hands and calls out a name.

❆❆❆

The sweltering heat suffocates Mark Tuan.

Summer was never his favorite season. For one, there are people everywhere. It’s as if society is in a collective agreement to litter the streets as soon as the sun rises on the first of June. And while Mark can carry a conversation as well as the next person, it’s not in his preferred list of things to do on the way back from work. He wants nothing more than to sit back on his couch with a can of cold beer, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and hands continuously clicking on the remote only to put it down when his fingers get tired.

Actually, that was what he was doing now on a Friday night. Either his attention span has gone to , or television offers nothing good anymore. Mark figures it's probably a mixture of both. In either case, Mark finds himself browsing on social media.

It’s not his favorite thing to do, but it suffices when he’s too lazy to walk over to his room and play games on his computer. He scrolls past people’s posts on instagram. He’s so over with his following’s posts: the same aesthetics, the same fake tone in their captions, the same underlying need to be validated through the amount of likes and comments. He doesn’t even know why he bothered with that app. He skips over twitter. Clicks past his snaps. Spends ample time on reddit. And somehow, he finds himself on facebook, a hundred posts deep into his feed, and a funny feeling in his stomach.

There’s new activity on a relatively old post in one of his university confession groups. He reminds himself to unfollow the group but completely forgets when he finishes reading the block of text. Mark is a little breathless and a lot nauseous. The anonymous confession asked for advice regarding how to behave with a hyung he thinks he fell in love with. The post contained a descriptive story of how, in order for the poster to avoid a puddle, the hyung pulled him closer into a semi-hug which has created a strong, emotional reaction in him. And that, since this particular, eye-opening moment, he hasn’t been able to see the other only as a friend and has gone as far as developing romantic feelings for him. Apparently, he never mustered the courage to talk about these newfound feelings with the hyung and has turned to the group to ask advice on confessing as he was leaving shortly to enlist in the army.

Mark blinks. Reading the story feels like an echo of his memories. The post is a year old, and Mark is distinctly reminded of Jinyoung who is effectively a year and some months into his military service. Could it be that…? No. That’s almost impossible. There are things that don’t add up. But what if…?

Mark shakes his head and decides to satisfy his curiosity. To make sure of Jinyoung’s enlistment time, he pulls out his last messages with the younger. Cross-checking, he sees that their last message session and this post are merely weeks apart. He doesn’t notice how fast his heart is beating until he feels his ribcage thumping with the force of it. It’s like he’s made a new discovery and that his findings were just the tip of the iceberg. He’s readied himself to do more research when he asks himself why he thought of Jinyoung in the first place. Surely, the chances of Jinyoung posting this here back then, and Mark finding this only now, was astronomical.

There are details that don’t quite fit as well. Thankfully, a notification pops up on the screen. It’s Jackson. Considering that it’s Friday and that the night is young, Jackson mentions how he doesn’t want to waste the night and invites him for a drink out with Bambam.

Mark doesn’t think twice before standing up and preparing himself for a night out.

❆❆❆

Working overtime has really taken a toll on him.

It’s funny because he only works more hours in the summer because the air conditioner is always on, and it’s always on because he doesn’t want to do anything as soon as he gets home -- nobody can convince Mark that summer is nothing more than a cycle of heat, sweat, and nothing at all like the fun vacation that capitalistic commercials make it out to be.

Nobody except Jinyoung, that is.

Ever since Mark found that post a week ago, little things pop up in his head about his friend as he goes about his day. It’s involuntary and difficult to stop.

As with most things, Jinyoung is the exception. Summer is no different. Summer was always Jinyoung’s thing. Mark hyung lets go to the beach. Mark hyung lets get ice cream. You know what would be fun right now, Mark hyung? Ice cold beer on the apartment rooftop. Mark hyung, this. Mark hyung, that.

Perhaps that was why this summer felt more draining than usual. It’s the second summer he had had to spend without Jinyoung. The first time was bearable considering how much time the two spent together before that. But now? It feels as if his days drag on, like there are more than 24 hours in each day.

The thought of this makes Mark wonder -- has it really been that long since Jinyoung enlisted? Has Mark really gone nearly two summers without his closest friend? Checking his phone, it’s to see that yes, Jinyoung would have been gone 16 months and 27 days now. For a moment, he lets himself wonder how Jinyoung is doing: if he has been eating and sleeping well, if he’s at the top of his group (Jinyoung has always been quietly competitive), if he’s putting 110% as he always does. 

Mark is so preoccupied with thoughts of Jinyoung that he nearly misses his subway stop.

When he steps into the streets, it’s to see strangers walking past in a hurry. Street lights are bright as they usually are, and Mark begins that short walk from the stop to his apartment complex.

The apartment is silent. If Jinyoung were here, he’d be lounging at Mark’s apartment, either book on hand or television on, with the excuse that his family is too loud for him to focus. Jinyoung’s family lives four doors down, so it’s not unusual for Jinyoung to come over in the middle of the night to talk, to hang out, or to knock back a bottle of beer or two. In fact, it’s so often that Mark would find it more out of the ordinary if Jinyoung didn’t do that.

Jinyoung also bullied him into giving him a key. What if you get in an accident, hyung? Jinyoung had said. Mark remembers playing reluctant because truth be told, he had been wanting to give Jinyoung his own key since Mark couldn’t be bothered waking up or walking to the door just to let Jinyoung in. Especially since Jinyoung loitered at his place more often than not. What if I call you and you won’t pick up? What if you’re late for work and your phone is dead? I really think you should give me a key. Or at least get a roommate so that I won’t have to worry about you being alone so much. You can’t grow old and lonely, hyung.

Mark shakes his head at the younger’s antics.

Mark wonders if Jinyoung brought the key with him to the training grounds.

❆❆❆

Throughout the days, Mark spends a lot of his time rifling through his belongings. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, just that he’s looking for something. So he searches and searches, and soon his whole apartment is turned upside down.

The covers on his bed are now draped on the floor, pillows out of their cases, their case spread on the bed. His desk is filled with clutter he didn’t know he had hidden in his closet. His closet is half empty, the other half covering the ground in little stacks and tiny mountains. Even his bathroom looks like it’s been hit by a tornado, toothpaste and face masks and cleansers and creams out of their respective cabinet and lying on the sink counter.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for.

He’ll know it when he finds it.

❆❆❆

As time goes on, Mark can’t get the post out of his mind.

As unlikely as it is, it’s too coincidental not to be Jinyoung, right? There wouldn’t be very many people who would enlist around the same time as Jinyoung and also attend that same university. The thing is, does he want the anonymous posted to be Jinyoung?

That seems like a question he’s not ready to answer just quite yet.

But it still doesn’t make sense.

If it was indeed Jinyoung, why would he post in the university confessions page? Mark and Jinyoung have graduated already, four years coming next February. Unless Jinyoung couldn’t find any place to confess other than the university confessions page? Surely there are other sites he could have used for advice. Mark is almost certain Jinyoung wouldn’t want to look for guidance from college students.

And if he did listen to any of the long comments about confessing with a grand gesture, Mark doesn’t remember Jinyoung going out of his way to make a big reveal of his emotions. However, there is a memory that surfaces. Just the two of them, in the park by the apartment complex where they both live, swinging on the too small swing for their too big bodies, the weather neither hot nor cold. In the middle of spring.

“Are you excited?” Mark had asked, the chains creaking as he swayed on his swing. 

“Do I really have to answer that question?” They had both known what Jinyoung would say.

Surrounding noise had ceased for the meantime, the wind outside had accepted a steady middle age. An adulthood. The leaves had stilled in compliance, the birds had moved westward with the sun guiding them.

“How long will it be?”

“A year and a half.”

Mark had looked over, ready to see Jinyoung in an emotional state, but instead he looked warm. Ears red and pink-cheeked from what Mark had presumed to be the settling chill of dusk. Jinyoung hadn’t looked calm. He’d looked uncertain, as if unsure if he was making the right decision to go to the military at this point in time.

“That’s a long time.”

Jinyoung had agreed, sniffing. Mark’s grip had tightened on the swing.

Jinyoung had left the following day.

Looking back, Mark figures that no, Jinyoung being the poster makes little sense. The confessions page. The goodbye. They don’t quite fit like puzzle pieces. Perhaps if Mark forced them.

And if it is Jinyoung, why doesn’t Mark remember pulling him close to a semi-hug just to make sure Jinyoung didn’t step on a puddle? It sounds like something he would do... Maybe. Mark doesn’t think he has done anything like that at all, especially not to Jinyoung. He figures he would probably remember it, right?

Mark tries to recall memories with Jinyoung and realizes there are way too many to think of if he doesn’t narrow them down. His first category is memories of them alone. Even just alone, there is too much to recollect, so Mark goes even deeper. Mark and Jinyoung alone, hanging outside and walking.

Many scenes play in his mind. There are memories of them hiking Bukhasan National Park together, talking slowly because it gets harder to breathe the higher they go in altitude. Mark remembers the rocky terrain, the steep incline that burnt his thighs the longer they hiked. He also remembers feeling worried about Jinyoung precisely because of the trail. He made sure to keep an eye on the younger as they hiked. It could prove to be slippery, especially going down. One misstep and they could find themselves tumbling. However, he doesn’t remember either of them in any close accidents that time, so this could not be it.

There’s also this one memory, a road by the Han River. Straight. Cement. The sun hung at the sky, bright and blinding in the middle of summer. Mark remembers that he had reminded Jinyoung to wear sunblock before they had left the complex. A dozen or so children had been playing by the grassy lawn while their parents watched. Mark and Jinyoung had passed by. It was a fantastic view of nature meets mankind, quiet waters on the left pushing at the busy land on the right. Mark only remembers this because Jinyoung had turned to him, a cheeky smile on his face as he asked if Mark’s the type who would want to settle down with someone and have a child or two. Mark’s mind had been quiet even when there was chatter from the kids, the muted rushing of water on the left, and Jinyoung’s steady breathing by his side. If I meet the right person, Mark had answered. 

They had finished the walk in relative silence. The sun was hot. There would be no puddle here.

Mark remembers another, this one during a light snowfall. They’d been bundled up in puffy, knee-long jackets. Mark recalls yearning for something warm and rich, galbitang. Ox bone soup. It had been morning still, and the sidewalk on the main street was covered with mud and the thinnest layer of sleet. Jinyoung had cupped his hand in front of him. Mark knows this because a moment later, Jinyoung had demanded for his attention and proceeded to exhale through his mouth. His breath came out in clouds, and Jinyoung had turned to him with the most serious look and said Look, hyung, I’m smoking . Mark remembers stopping by Starbucks and ordering some steaming beverages. No ox bone soup for him that day. He also recalls the snow not stopping because he had fixed Jinyoung’s knitted hat before leaving Starbucks, but Mark has no recollection of puddles. Though the ground was slithery, neither of them had any mishaps. Perhaps, not this one.

Mark explores his memories, attempting to find even the vaguest idea of when that scene in the anonymous post might have occurred. He doesn’t realize, but a ton of cars have driven through on the ground floors below. Clouds have flown from one side of the sky to the others. The clock has cycled through the hours just as he has cycled through his years with Jinyoung.

Fingers jittery and mind full of Jinyoung, Mark feels like a freshman again.

❆❆❆

On an uninteresting Wednesday, Jinyoung’s mother comes by with a container of homemade kimchi.

Mark takes it gratefully. Around the same day every month, she gifts a tupperware of home cooked food. Last month it was seasoned spinach. Stacks of pajeon before that. They’re nothing big, but Mark is thankful all the same.

He doesn’t ask when Jinyoung is coming home, even if his tongue itches to do it. He has a good idea anyway.

❆❆❆

Mark looks hot.

He knows he’s hot. And he uses it to his advantage too. It works when he wears nicely fitting clothes -- some black earrings that make him look edgy, the sides of his head shaved short while the top is slicked back, some barely there lipstick, skinny jeans that hug his tight, a nice jacket with chains, and an almost crop top that shows a sliver of his pale, smooth skin whenever he reaches up to do anything.

He gets into the club with ease, the guard at the door letting him free of charge. He doesn’t have Jackson today. Or Bambam. Or even any of his acquaintances that he knows would drop plans to hang out with him in an eerily foggy club under multicolored lights.

The dance floor is already sticky when he gets in. It could be dried alcohol. It could be dried sweat. Mark presumes it’s a mixture of both and slides his way to the bar to order some alcohol. He sees people eyeing him as he swiftly drinks two shots in quick successions. The burn in his throat feels good, and Mark orders another to make sure it stays there.

When he turns around, someone is already behind him with a smirk. Mark can immediately tell that he’s the type of person who’s used to getting what he wants, considering the aggravatingly cocky look he’s giving Mark. And when the guy asks him for a dance, Mark agrees because he wants to experiment tonight.

They dance for a long time, bodies grinding against each other to the beat of the music, hands grabbing at shoulders, arms, and hips. Mark doesn’t bother asking for his name and he doesn’t bother giving it out. Mark can already tell what dynamic the person wants, can feel it in the tight grip on his and his hips. They don’t kiss. Mark doesn’t feel like it, but it’s obvious that the other person wants to if the way he keeps ducking close to Mark and glancing at his lips are anything to go by. For a moment, Mark almost lets him. But just as they’re about meet halfway, Mark pushes him gently

“Sorry,” he tries. It comes off completed devoid of emotion and sounds more like he’s stating a fact than apologizing. “I’m not really into that.”

That’s not true. He likes kissing. But the person in front of him just looks wrong, feels wrong, is wrong.

“It’s cool.”

It’s totally not, Mark can tell from his tone. And they part ways before it gets any more awkward.

Mark doesn’t leave. He wants to prove something to himself. He’s already sweated out the three shots in his system, so he orders two more.

Mark surveys the area for anyone suited to his liking. It’s been a while since he’s gone clubbing by himself and figures he can be as reckless as he wants tonight. He scans over some guy who has ridiculously pink hair, some dude in a tank top showing off his muscles, a group of young men who are wearing really tight, really short shorts and a couple heavily making out near the bar counter. None of them spark an interest in Mark though, and he nearly feels that tonight might be a waste after all. He’s preparing himself to leave when he spots someone sitting alone, talking to the bartender, with a glass of beer in hand.

Mark approaches him. He looks good. He’s wearing a pair of black, rectangular glasses that have been out of the season for a decade now. His dark hair is split in the middle and covering parts of his black eyes, shiny and perfectly round like tapioca. His jawline is strong, chin rough, neck thick and muscles bulging from his sweater vest.

Who the wears a sweater vest to a club?

“Hey,” Mark tries, leaning an elbow on the counter. He immediately catches the other guy’s attention, and Mark knows he’s good to go when the other smiles at him after a painfully slow look over. “You, me, middle of the dance floor?”

The other chuckles. “Only if you let me buy you a drink.”

They do end up getting three more. Mark is dizzy when they finally make it to the center. Mark doesn’t mind it when the guy circles his arms around him. He should probably remember his name, the guy had mentioned it two drinks ago, but Mark is distracted. Funnily enough, he’s pretty certain it starts with a J.

Mark can feel the hardness of the other’s body even through the guy’s many layers. He slides his hands up and down the other’s sides before leaning in close to nip at the other’s neck. The gasp sounds loud even in the midst of the music. Mark feels a hand on his hair, urging him. So he devours. There are hands on his back, clutching at him as he marks the other with love bites.

It’s when he pulls back and sees the other’s lustful face that he awakens from his drunken stupor. When he doesn’t dive in for more, the other furrows his eyebrow in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “I thought we were having a good time here?”

Mark gulps. He was. They were. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

He feels like a huge, gigantic jerk when he quickly turns around and leaves the other guy behind. He’s an for it, but he can’t help himself.

He sobers up when the night air hits his warm face, stinging him like harsh ice.

On the way home, he thinks back on what had transpired. Mark remembers clearly how he looked, with half-lidded eyes hidden behind his glasses and dark hair, the way his red, prominent lips were pouted, and the shape of his face as he presented his neck for Mark to claim.

He looked so much like Jinyoung that Mark uncontrollably shivered, so completely aroused at the boy who donned the same facial features as his best friend. His Jinyoung. Mark can’t escape him. He sighs.

The subway has closed down.

The walk to his apartment isn’t short.

That’s alright though. He has a lot to think about anyway.

❆❆❆

One weekend, Mark can’t take his overthinking anymore and decides to invite Jackson and Bambam to a dive bar equidistant to all three of their homes. In the center of Seodaemun District, they find a place that suits them. Drunken folks, both old and young, circulate the little spot.

Jackson enters as he usually does, that is to say dragging a too-happy Bambam by his side and both dripping in accessories and name brands. Mark waves them over and they settle down, not needing any of the common courtesies friends usually partake when they meet each other again after a while. They’re too close for that.

A bowl of nuts adorn their little table, surrounded by glasses of their choice of alcoholic drinks. It takes a minute before they get started.

“So,” Bambam rests his chin on his hands. “Why have you called us?”

Mark hopes he isn’t too transparent. “No reason.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. Bambam doesn’t buy it either.

“There’s no use in lying, Mark.” Jackson tsks. “What’s bothering you?”

“Would it be believable if I said work is getting to me?”

The other two crane closer, as if waiting for him to provide the real answer. There’s a part of Mark that doesn’t want to expose himself because saying it out loud means acknowledging it. And he’s not quite sure he’s ready to say it yet. Thinking about it, maybe. Despite his hesitance, Mark pushes through since he needs an outside perspective on this.

He starts, “Do you guys think…? Is there any chance… perhaps…” Mark gestures with his hands to get his point across, “that Jinyoung likes me?”

The air is thinner somehow, and Mark finds himself easily tongue-tied when he lays his heart out like this. He waits for their reactions, but there is barely any. Jackson is biting his lips, eyes narrowed comically at Mark like he’s holding himself back from speaking. Bambam is keeping his mouth shut, looking constipated, and as if he wants to laugh and cry at the same time.

Noting their expressions, Mark figures that this is a waste of time. They’re definitely the wrong people to ask. Why did he ask them in the first place? They were the ones who wouldn’t stop teasing Mark and Jinyoung in the budding portion of Mark and Jinyoung’s… friendship.

“Forget I asked,” Mark facepalms before slurping on his drink. “You both obviously aren’t taking me seriously.”

“That’s not true!” Bambam is the first to speak.

“We do!” Jackson chimes in.

“We absolutely do!”

“Yes, that’s right!”

“We take you seriously.”

“It’s just that,” Jackson begins, exchanging a look with Bambam before turning to Mark. “It took you a long time to notice it.”

Mark sighs. He knows, he knows. It’s just that, is it really true? Or are they just reading into something that isn’t really there. Mark doesn’t even know himself if he likes Jinyoung.

Wait, scratch that. He cares for Jinyoung, that is the truth without question. He just doesn’t know up to what extent. Is it romantic? Platonic? Is there much of a difference? Is there a fine line between the two? And if there is, which side is Mark on?

“Way back then, we sort of knew there was something there,” Bambam shrugs. “You didn’t see it. And it seems like Jinyoung didn’t see it either, because if he did, I’m sure he would have had a meticulously intricate plan to make you fall for him.”

Mark blinks and tries not to shiver. He doesn’t let himself imagine a time where Jinyoung figures it out early and pursues him, if there even is anything to figure out at all on Jinyoung’s end. He refrains from envisioning dates like dinner under the moonlight, hikes on a weekend under beautiful weather, watching live theater together under the dim lights, walks along the park by the Han River, and -- oh, god. Oh, goodness gracious.

He doesn’t need to refrain from doing it because it’s all in there. Burning bright in his memories. They’ve done all this before. They’ve done all this before under the guise of bros hanging out. Then perhaps, this is why Jackson and Bambam have teased them previously?

“I- I think,” Mark begins. One by one, his words pour out in slow motion, each syllable awakening something dormant inside him. Like pieces clicking into place, like jigsaws solving itself, Mark gets a clearer picture of his emotions. “I think I harbor romantic feelings for him.”

Bambam has hands clasped together with a soft gasp. Jackson is looking at him with the proudest expression on his face. Mark feels like the world is closing in on him.

“They grow up so fast.”

Mark doesn’t even bother replying to Bambam's sarcasm, too stunned at the full acknowledgment of whatever it is he feels for Jinyoung to come up with a witty retort. That was always Jinyoung’s specialty.

“What made you think about this all of a sudden?” Jackson inquires, grinning. “Missing your boyfriend while he’s off working out with other sweaty men?”

Bambam elbows Jackson, and Mark feels thankful for it. Despite the joking manner in which he was questioned, Mark curls in on himself. He’s a little embarrassed by how this all started with a simple post on their university confessions page. Even so, he narrates the story with as much conviction as he can muster. And by the end of his account, Jackson and Bambam are so completely focused on Mark that they’ve somehow scooted even closer without any of them noticing.

“So let me get this straight…” Bambam scratches his cheeks. “You found a post on our university’s confessions page?”

Mark nods.

“And that post talks about someone falling in love with their hyung and that they joined the military around the same time Jinyoung did?”

Mark nods again.

“And this was posted more than a year ago and you somehow found it a couple of weeks ago?”

Mark nods once more.

Bambam wolf whistles. “Damn, bro. Talk about soulmate . What are the chances that this actually is him?”

“That’s what’s been driving me crazy,” Mark confesses. “I can’t tell if it is or isn’t him.”

“Let me see it,” Jackson demands. Mark raises an eyebrow. “The post. Let me see it. I know you must have favorited it or taken a screenshot or something.”

Mark’s cheeks warm up. He’s done all that and followed the post, hoping there would be an update on it just so his curiosity would be satisfied. Pulling up his phone, Jackson and Bambam gather around him. He shows it to them. Almost instantly, Jackson scoffs.

“This is him, alright.”

Mark blinks. “How can you tell?”

“It has punctuation,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That’s so unnecessarily Jinyoung.”

“You’re right!” Bambam concurs. Mark can’t with the both of them.

“Forget about if it’s him or not. What do I do?”

“That’s easy,” the youngest chirps. “Confess!”

Jackson smiles in agreement.

“Yes, do that. But first, do the same thing you’ve both been doing: wait,” he says as he settles a hand on Mark’s shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. “Then when he gets back, you sweep him off his feet and reclaim the years you’ve both wasted.”

The bar isn’t as stifling as it had been just moments before. A customer comes in, the bell at the top clinking to let everyone know of their arrival. From the space between the door and its threshold, Mark can make out the clear sky.

Mark nods. He doesn’t think it’s a bad idea at all.

❆❆❆

Minutes bleed into hours, hours into days, and days into weeks. But instead of minutes and hours, Mark starts to measure time in ‘days until Jinyoung arrives.’ Mark despises how the clock hands drag when he’s eagerly awaiting something.

Each night feels more exhausting than the last, even if he’s been doing the same thing that he’s done that last few months. But every morning he wakes is a sign of victory, another advance. A step closer to seeing Jinyoung again. Mark has aged more in the bridge between September and October than he ever has in his lifetime.

Autumn has broken in, blowing away the intense summer heat. Leaves display a dazzling gold at the edges, withering away and expecting their fall. Days are shorter. Strangers’ coats are longer. During his commute, he notices that more and more people have scarves wrapped around their neck, their hands decorated with gloves and steaming cups.

As per his friends’ advice, one of Mark’s newest pastimes is thinking of ways to court Jinyoung. Because the air conditioning is no longer active on all hours of the day (Mark’s wallet thanks him), Mark doesn’t work overtime. Instead, he takes time discovering untried routes on the way to work and back. There are paths he’s never known before, too content on keeping his habit routine and his routines unchanged. As he learns of new sites to explore, Mark’s list of Places to visit with Jinyoung when he gets back has continually expanded. It now includes a local museum that he had no prior knowledge about, an antiquarian cafe off one of the side streets from the subway exit to the company building, a dingy bar that has its own noraebang machine, and a few others places that Mark is certain Jinyoung would enjoy.

Another of his pastimes is working out. Even now, Mark refuses to acknowledge that the reason he’s doing this is because of Jackson’s offhand comment. He had done extensive research before creating a weekly schedule as soon as he had returned that night. He had also reminded himself to clean the apartment of the clutter he had caused the weeks prior as he believed he had found the answer he was looking for.

Tonight he works on a section of his arms, his triceps. Each day focuses on different parts of the body, and Mark makes sure to perform the exercises as correctly as possible for maximum results. He keeps his hand position in mind when he executes the close-grip bench press and the lying tricep extension. He focuses on his stature when he does bench dips and standard push ups.

Eyes land on him as he sweats through the repetitions, but he doesn’t notice them at all. All he focuses on is the burning in his arms and the would-be look on Jinyoung’s face when he sees how much Mark has filled out. During each set, he also can’t help himself from imagining how their relationship will change once Jinyoung gets back.

Will they become boyfriends right off the bat? Just the word itself makes Mark feels giddy. Jinyoung’s boyfriend. It has a nice ring to it. Mark’s boyfriend, Jinyoung. It has an even nicer ring to it. Mark doesn’t let himself giggle, even if he wants to, sure that this concentration would break and his arms would flop under the weight he’s carrying if he lets himself. But that doesn’t stop the satisfactory smile that escapes from his lips.

Or perhaps they’ll sidestep around each other, walking on eggshells and afraid that they’ll do something that might displease the other. As soon as he thinks this though, Mark shakes his head. They’ve been best friends for years and get along swimmingly. He doesn’t think he’s ever had an argument with Jinyoung that warranted an apology. He needs not worry about these types of useless concerns.

Maybe they’ll end up acting even more lovey-dovey than they already do. Mark notices that the little things they do for and to each other can easily be seen as how partners generally behave. Like how Mark fixes Jinyoung’s collar for him because one side sticks out while the other tucks itself in his sweater. Or how Jinyoung would brush Mark’s hair back, fixing it whenever the wind blows too hard because he knows just how much effort Mark puts into his hair. And how, every now and then, they’d pay for each other’s food without any reason other than that’s how they’ve always been, considerate and sharing and completely comfortable with the domesticity of it.

Gosh. Mark is totally over the moon. He can’t wait for Jinyoung to return. It should be close now, any day in the next week or any week in the next month. His days fill up with the activities he set out to do.

Mark multiplies the number of repetitions in each set by one and a half. On one weekend, Mark enters a salon to get a nice haircut, one he remembers Jinyoung complimenting. When he exits, the sensitivity on the side of his head makes him shiver from the autumn weather. It’s neither too hot nor too cold for the average person, but Mark is easily shaken up. He adds another item on his list, a library on the far side of the district that contains first editions of some well-known Korean books Mark hasn’t heard of but is certain Jinyoung has.

Distractions prove helpful in making time speed up, so much so that the moment he’s longed for happens when he least expects it. It’s when he’s devouring fried chicken and beer and watching one of the Top Shows on Netflix well into the evening that his phone chimes. The screen lights up. It’s a text message. It’s not from Jackson or Bambam or any of his current acquaintances. The first part of the contact name reads Park .

The recognition is immediate.

It’s from Jinyoung’s sister, asking him if he’s available next weekend. Mark gulps. In so few words, Mark’s world rebuilds itself. A sigh of relief escapes him as he opens the notification and replies. He’s been invited to come over for her brother’s return.

Mark’s heart swells. Jinyoung is coming home.

❆❆❆

He doesn’t admit it, but Mark shops for a new outfit. He has a closet full of clothes, but he has nothing to wear. He makes sure to buy something that isn’t too different from his usual style. He wants Jinyoung to recognize him and see that he’s still the same Mark but that something is different. Something has changed.

Except when the day comes, Mark chooses an old pair of black joggers and a faded hoodie. The new clothes didn’t feel right. Perhaps nothing needs to change. They work fine. Mark and Jinyoung aren’t something new; they’re more like well-worn jeans, adaptable and full of comfort. They just need to be seen under a new light.

When Mark rings the doorbell, Jinyoung’s parents welcome him immediately. Their hug is welcoming. Somehow, their presence makes it feel like his parents are here with him in Korea too. Their smiles are huge, probably because their son is returning after being away for a year and a half.

Mark bows, rubbing his neck as he says, “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Park answers with a wave of her hands. She cradles his face by the cheeks. “You’re always welcome here.”

The man of the hour, Jinyoung’s parents claim, is nearly here as they speak. Apparently, his sister is picking him up. Mark is pushed towards the dinner table, Mr. Park guiding him by the shoulder. There aren’t many people here, just Jinyoung’s immediate family, a couple of his cousins that Mark has seen once or twice, and a couple of his college acquaintances, the most memorable being Yugyeom. Funnily enough, their mutual friend Youngjae had enlisted to the military just several months ago.

The sheer amount of food is astounding. Mark is certain they won’t finish it tonight. A large bowl of japchae, stir fried Korean glass noodles, sits at the center of the dining table. Surrounding it are regular party dishes like Korean fried chicken, bulgogi, pan fried tofu, jokbal, and jjajangmyeon. Popular side dishes also fill the table: fish cakes, bibimbap, potsticker salad, pickled vegetables, and a variety of other things that Mark doesn’t remember the name of but knows taste good.

Just as he was about to grab a plate, the doorbell rings. There’s a collective hush in the apartment as Mr. and Mrs. Park march to the door, and they open it in unison. For a moment, Mark and the rest of the guests were confused. Only Jinyoung’s sister was at the entrance.

But in true Jinyoung fashion, he pops in from the side with a close-lipped smile and whisker lines around his eyes.

Jinyoung looks amazing.

To Mark, it feels as if his life was leading up to this very moment. Time doesn’t speed up or slow down as it’s wont to do. Instead, as soon as Jinyoung’s head peeps in, Mark swears the whole world comes to a complete stop. For once, the scene is silent save for the slight draft that makes Mark almost shudder where he’s stood. Mark’s vision is a vignette, and Jinyoung is the picture-perfect photograph shot carefully so that he is the lone person in frame and in focus.

It’s when Mark is studying Jinyoung’s face that he knows for sure something has shifted in the balance of their universe. It’s as if Jinyoung’s presence alone alters the chemical makeup of the air. Perhaps that’s the reason why it seems so hard for Mark to catch his breath.

Mark swallows. And as he does so, the surrounding begins to play again with a quiet click. Family members rush to flock Jinyoung, wrapping him in lengthy hugs and peppering him with kisses. Mark wills for Jinyoung to look his way even if just for a simple moment. He wants Jinyoung to know that he’s here to welcome him home. He in a breath when, after being patted on the head by his father, Jinyoung looks straight to Mark.

It’s electric.

Except, as Mark tries to silently convey what he feels, Jinyoung breaks eye contact and smiles at one of his cousins instead. The moment is over as soon as it begins. It’s only a second, two at most, but being on the receiving end of that gaze, to Mark it felt like a lifetime.

He waits his turn by eating food, joining the tiny group of Jinyoung’s college friends. He sits next to Yugyeom because he’s the only one Mark knows deeper than the surface level.

“You glad he’s back?” The younger asks through a mouthful of chicken.

“Not any more than I should be,” Mark answers carefully. Was that a bad answer? “I mean, I am. Aren’t you?”

Yugyeom eyes him warily, his lips forming an almost-smirk as if he’s uncovered a secret. “Don’t tell him, but I kind of missed annoying his petty .”

Mark blinks at him and snickers. Yugyeom talks his ears off, and Mark gives him answers when prompted and replies as he sees fit. But it’s challenging to focus on the conversation when his eyes are following Jinyoung’s every move.

Jinyoung moves more royally than he’s ever been. He’s different in more ways than one, but he’s essentially the same. Mark knows that under that camouflage patrol cap is a buzz cut that probably looks unusual for Jinyoung. He has always been more at ease with longer hair. Muscles fill out his clothes, much more than they ever did the whole time Mark has known him. Unsure how, but just as arms and legs are thicker, so is his neck. And somehow, Jinyoung carries himself more rigidly, even if before his time at the military, he was already the most straight-backed person Mark had ever met. Inflexible.

“You good, bro?”

Mark is transported back by Yugyeom’s voice. “Yes. Peachy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sure?” He prods. “I asked you a question like three times, but you didn’t respond.”

Mark apologizes, using a heavy work week as reason to why he’s so exhausted and distracted. The way Yugyeom raises an eyebrow makes Mark feel unnerved and scrutinized.

“You were staring,” Yugyeom pointed out, a playful smile on his face. “And drooling.”

Instantly, Mark wipes at his chin only to find that it’s drier than a desert. Yugyeom laughs, and Mark shoots him a stink eye. “Hilarious.”

As his laughter subsides, Yugyeom grins at something behind Mark and gives a wave. “Hey, hyung. Welcome back!”

Mark narrows his eyes at him. “Not falling for that one.”

The words leave his lips, but there’s a steady presence behind him. Yugyeom is biting his lips like he’s having a hard time controlling himself from laughing.

“Not excited to see me, Markie?”

, his voice sounds even deeper than before.. Mark swiftly turns around. Sure enough, Jinyoung is standing next to him looking as sheepish as one could while wearing a military uniform. Mark doesn’t even get to answer him as he hurries to envelop his best friend in a hug.

Mark has forgotten how Jinyoung smells like. Hugging him now, he wastes time inhaling his scent. Lungfuls of peaches, nectar, and something earthy like wood or petrichor. Jinyoung returns the sentiment by tightening his hug and digging his face into the crook of Mark’s neck.

“I missed you,” Mark admits. It’s been so long since he’s had Jinyoung in his arms like this. Mark likens it to the feeling of returning to the comfort of one’s home after a long vacation.

“I missed you too,” Jinyoung parrots back from where he’s tucked.

They don’t realize how much time has passed since they’ve embraced each other until Yugyeom clears his throat on the side.

“Don’t worry about us. You two just enjoy your time alone.”

Jinyoung is the first to pull back, releasing Mark and capturing Yugyeom in a chokehold. “You’re as annoying as the day I left you, I see.”

“Spare me,” Yugyeom tries, tapping out.

“No.”

The two roughhouse for a short while and then exchange hugs because as much as they like to tease each other, they care for the other even more. Jinyoung has a friendly chat with his college acquaintances, much longer than the time Jinyoung had allotted for him.

And then Mark is forgotten. Jinyoung makes rounds to the guest, conversing with them for a bit before moving onto the next group of people. Mark finds it hard to stray away from watching him. He’s like a kid who has been deprived of cookies for years, and now that the jar is only an arm's length away, the thought of letting it out of his sight is inconceivable.

When Jinyoung circles back to them, Mark is content. Though their conversations are shallow, it didn’t matter because just having a conversation was a privilege he was refused in the last several months. When Mark leaves Jinyoung’s apartment that night, the younger man bids him goodbye with promises of hanging out and drinking beer and having a good time.

Mark sleeps soundly that night.

❆❆❆

In the days to come, Jinyoung is perfectly cordial. He walks with Mark in the mornings, from the comfort of their apartment complex to the large throngs of people gathering at the closest subway stop. Mark wakes up to go to work, but Jinyoung rises because it’s his routine now.

Still, Jinyoung seems absent most of the time, unusual. Often, he would inquire how Mark is doing or feeling today, would greet him a good morning with impeccable courtesy almost as if they were back to being strangers. Even their conversations feel weightless. Mark works for half of the day, and during the evenings Jinyoung doesn’t visit Mark.

As such, Mark’s afternoons become longer, lonelier, surprising because Jinyoung is here and tangible. He waits for Jinyoung to warm up to him again. Even his text messages sound distant and unfamiliar.

On a particularly aggravating Wednesday, Mark invites Jinyoung to have a beer with him. Wednesdays are the worst because the weekend is as far as it is close. He includes the allure of Mario Kart -- it has been more than 700 days since they’ve raced each other. 700 days is as long as it sounds.

The reply is immediate. Jinyoung is coming over in a little bit, promising to bring over dinner that his parents have cooked. Jjampong sounds appetizing, especially with how harsh this autumn has been. Mark makes sure to tidy himself up as well as the apartment before Jinyoung gets here. He contemplates dusting himself with body spray, but figures that would be unusual considering they’re simply having a relaxing night in. He opts for deodorant and mouthwash.

Jinyoung arrives with a healthy bowl of spicy seafood soup, showcasing his dimple as he exclaims, “Delivery!”

Spirited, Mark takes a stab at flirting. “Sweet. Are you delivering the food or yourself?”

Jinyoung snorts and ignores Mark’s attempt, slapping him on the chest and barging right in without acknowledging the question. Instead, he asks, “We playing before or after dinner?”

Mark grins. “Why not both?”

Bowls of rice, jjampong, and two sets of cups and utensils are decked onto the coffee table. Beers uncapped and poured over ice, they unwind themselves on Mark’s sofa. Jinyoung has shed off his shoes and large jacket at the door while Mark exchanges his joggers for basketball shorts. They make the perfect scene for a stay-at-home date. Except when Mark turns on the console after sitting down, he feels conflicted.

His eyes appreciate the buzz cut on Jinyoung, notices that it’s already growing a little bit despite it only being a week and a half since he’s been back. In just a plain white shirt, Jinyoung looks marvelous. Mark assumes he could have been a model or an actor if he had taken a different path in life. With proper posture, Jinyoung’s muscles strain against the shirt he wears. Mark suddenly has difficulty swallowing.

What’s strange is that Jinyoung is as distant to Mark physically as he is emotionally. Didn’t Jinyoung always choose to sit close to him? Or was this a fever dream? In any case, Mark figures they could fit a few pillows between them from how they’re arranged at the couch. He subconsciously inches closer.

Arming his face with a pout, Mark looks to Jinyoung. “Why are you so far away? Come over here.”

Jinyoung blinks, nods, and does as he’s told. The stiffness in his movement is easily detectable. Jinyoung’s hands come up to his chest, bunching up the fabric there as if he’s experiencing heartburn. It’s a new action that Mark has yet to see from Jinyoung. Does he feel awkward? Perhaps Jinyoung feels he does not have permission to sit close. But that can’t be. They’ve never needed permission before.

“You alright?” Mark can’t help but ask.

“Never better,” Jinyoung provides a thumbs up. “You ready to lose or what?”

“You ing wish, noob.”

Jinyoung wins four cups in a row, much to Mark’s amusement. On the last one, Jinyoung drops the controllers like a mic, eases on his nonexistent sunglasses, crosses his arms and hilariously fails at attempting to look ‘cool’. Mark would gladly lose on purpose again if he gets to see this happy and playful Jinyoung. Right then, he realizes he has feelings for a dork and throws a sofa cushion at him. Jinyoung retaliates by throwing a bigger pillow back. The next few moments happen too quickly as they begin to hit each other with the decorative pillows. On the face, by the shoulder, on the torso, and an exceptionally painful one on Jinyoung’s groin. When Jinyoung comes at him, dual-wielded with cushions, Mark knows he’s facing defeat. So he abandons his own pillows and tackles Jinyoung, sending them both down onto the couch with a soft thump.

At that moment, they’re utterly still. Jinyoung’s hands have unclutched his weapons, Mark’s hands bracketing him. The only noise in the room is the steady buzz of the fluorescent lights and the Mario Kart victory music playing from the television. Their breaths are held. Their eyes black and blown. Mark is about to lean in when Jinyoung clears his throat.

“We should probably eat.” Jinyoung doesn’t sound like himself. His voice is raspy, yielding. He makes a good point. They didn’t end up eating in between cups like they were supposed to, too focused on having a good match and finally gaming with each other after what felt like a decade.

“Yeah,” Mark retreats, rubbing his neck.

The jjampong is delicious. The spice proves to be a good distraction from what has just occurred. It’s a welcoming numbness on his lips. Though it’s an unsatisfying substitute to Jinyoung’s lips, it’s a substitute nonetheless.

Mark hands over his pieces of shrimp. Jinyoung trades him his mussels. Mark is glad that this, the way they know each other’s likes and dislikes like the back of their hand, has at least not changed.

Later, when Jinyoung announces his departure, Mark lets him. He guides Jinyoung to the door, his hand a hefty weight on the younger’s back. As soon as the door closes, Mark facepalms himself, regretting his indecisiveness. He should have kissed him then and there. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It’s fine, he assures himself. Jinyoung is back now, and that means he has plenty more tries.

❆❆❆

Mark does not, in fact, get plenty more tries.

Instead, what he gets is the empty feeling of dissatisfaction.

Whenever Mark contemplates the city, it is the list of Places to visit with Jinyoung when he gets back that comes to mind. Though now, he supposes the list should be amended to Places to visit with Jinyoung now that he’s back .

It happens on the first and continues with the rest.

The first on the list is a local museum. When he questions Jinyoung about it, Mark is glad to see that Jinyoung too had never heard of it. Surprising, considering how much Jinyoung craves knowledge, puts an incredible amount of value on it. Because it’s a museum, their hours of operation are generally the times Mark has to work. Which is why Mark and Jinyoung come here on a regular Saturday.

Information here is abundant. Even the spotless white walls carry some sort of data. Mark is elated that Jinyoung enjoys himself. Except, when Mark gets close and settles his arm on Jinyoung’s shoulders, the younger one gradually but surely extricates himself from it. It’s almost unnoticeable to the regular person, but since Mark is deliberate in his actions, he can tell that Jinyoung is avoiding him.

Like he mentioned before, it doesn’t end there and continues on.

On a mundane weekday, Mark invites Jinyoung to a special cafe. The coffee shop sits at one of the side streets from the subway exit nearest to Mark’s workplace. Jinyoung still does not have much to do with his days, still looking for a job after being released from his enlistment. Mark waits at a table fit for two, the intricate designs on the table surely older than Mark tenfold, fascinating.

Jinyoung comes moments later. The sun is high. It is the afternoon, orange and gold coloring the sky as it does the leaves which it covers. Jinyoung barrels through in a coat and a scarf. Mark feels warm just looking at him.

The prices of the drinks are beyond expensive, just about twice the amount that Mark usually pays just for a mug of coffee. Steam from their drinks runs between them as they converse, talks of the beauty this place possesses. Exquisite antiques decorate the shop, settled on various corners of the place. They come in diverse materials, some reflect in silver, others shine in gold. There are wooden antiques as well as ones made of marble, others in clear glass, and others in jet black obsidian.

Their time there is normal enough. It’s on the trek back to the subway that dampens Mark’s confidence. As they exit the cafe, chilly air smothers them the way icy water does to an unsuspecting diver. Automatically, Mark turns to Jinyoung and fixes the younger man’s scarf. Jinyoung doesn’t look at him even if Mark’s gaze is boring into his face. The discomfort in him is nearly tangible.

As soon as Mark finishes, Jinyoung brings his hand to his own chest. It’s a habit that Mark has noticed Jinyoung has picked up. Mark has no recollection of it, so he assumes he must have adopted it from his time in the military. This is the third time Mark has seen him do his. The thought is a good distraction from how Jinyoung readjusts his scarf when he thinks Mark isn’t looking.

Mark stays relatively quiet from then on.

Their time at the bar with its own noraebang needs not be revisited. Jinyoung had been enthusiastic with his singing, less so whenever Mark approached him. The darkness made it easy to hide his fixation on Jinyoung, how his eyes followed Jinyoung’s moves like metal to a magnet. It also hid, pretty well, the distance Jinyoung put between them after every song. Mark would rather forget it.

❆❆❆

In the nights following their latest outing, Mark does not leave his apartment. The discouragement wears him down. Each day that passes, Mark becomes more  and more certain that the post on the university confessions page cannot be Jinyoung. His attitude towards Mark recently testifies to that.

Instead, Mark wastes time living in his imagination, the two of them kayaking, traveling, and even something Mark hasn't done like fishing. Tonight, he imagines what Jinyoung would look like right now if they were on an excursion. Mark figures he’d look splendid bathed in moonlight. Perhaps they’d be camping, spending the weekend at some site unpolluted by city lights. Jinyoung would look stunning despite being in thick, warm clothes, face illuminated by the gentle glow of a kerosene lamp.

Mark is in the middle of his fantasy when his phone disturbs his moment of peace.

The contact name is familiar. He lies when he tells himself his heart doesn’t drop when he sees it isn’t Jinyoung.

Opening the message, Mark is attacked by an onslaught of keyboard smashes. Jackson is on the other side of the screen, overexcited from what Mark can infer. The other man is asking him why he isn’t with Jinyoung right now and berating him for not informing Jackson that Jinyoung has a very hot, very handsome friend.

Mark has absolutely no idea what Jackson is talking about.

I'm the hot, handsome friend. What are you talking about? Mark texts.

The photo that Jackson replies with is blurry at best. He seems to be at some sort of bar or restaurant, if the table and dark background were anything go by. The area is candlelit, but even pixelated with minimal lighting, Mark can recognize Jinyoung anywhere. His laughter is loud and wide. The three guys with him seem to be in the same mood. Mark envies the people that make Jinyoung look so open.

Jackson sends another, this one much clearer and brighter than the one before. Mark isn’t sure, but he thinks these are the men beside Jinyoung in his post enlistment photo. Jinyoung has mentioned them before, Jaebeom, Junhee, and Wonpil. And that’s what he tells Jackson.

The feeling of jealousy, the slimy sensation of being clingy, they make Mark ashamed. Never mind the fact that Jinyoung didn’t want to hang out with him. The feeling of slowly being replaced leaves a bitter taste in Mark’s mouth.

Is this why Jinyoung has been acting so different lately? Is this why, even after all the effort that Mark has been putting towards hanging out with him, Jinyoung still looks uncomfortable? He hasn’t asked Jinyoung why he’s not as physically intimate with Mark anymore, despite how many times it's crossed his mind. He doesn’t question why Jinyoung doesn’t laugh at Mark’s jokes as much as he used to, when Mark distinctly remembers that their sense of humor is so in tune with each other.

Mark doesn’t know how to cope with being sidelined by his best friend. This is the part of the ocean that has yet to be explored, the sides of the universe that have yet to be captured. This is uncharted territory. 

Mark tries to rinse it all away by gaming.

❆❆❆

For a few days, Mark is able to resist the temptation of confronting Jinyoung.

However, Mark has never been good at self-discipline, even worse at self-control. This is one of his great differences with Jinyoung. If Jinyoung is the type to thrive in the military, Mark is part of the troops that succumb to the hardship of everyday military life. The younger can go weeks waking up before the sun rises and head to bed with the sun. Mark is lethargic if he doesn’t sleep like a night owl. Jinyoung can survive eating what little sustenance he needs. Mark enjoys treating himself because it’s what he deserves.

If Jinyoung is the stable ground, sturdy and unbending, then Mark is raging fire, passionate and uncontrollable. Perhaps that’s why Marks ends up seeking Jaebeom. He cracks at the beginning of November, on a Friday, just in the middle of autumn and awaiting winter. The search isn’t hard. Facebook makes it easy to stalk people.

He types out a message. Erases it. Then types again, like a broken record playing the same parts over and over again, only to repeat after every scratch. Words stare back from the screen. He outlines his thoughts and asks for a favor. One look at the chunk of sentences has him nervous.

Jaebeom’s reply is near instant. 

Hello, Mark! I’d love to meet with you.

Mark is unsettled by it.

At Jaebeom’s suggestion, they get together on the east side of Seoul. Mark has a little trouble finding the quaint coffee shop that Jaebeom mentioned but finds it all the same. The day has reached maturity, the sun dangling at its peak. Fridays can be busy, and Mark is lucky that that isn’t the case today.

Even midday, there’s a coolness in the air that blankets the city. The sign at the coffee shop reads The Bird’s Nest. Upon entering, Mark is surprised to see that it’s a seamless combination of a library and a cafe. Begrudgingly, he adds this to the list of Places to visit with Jinyoung now that he’s back . The minimalist design is something Jinyoung would appreciate. 

A gentle aroma of book pages and parchment paper wafts around Mark. Performing a quick scan of the area, Mark notes that Jaebeom is lounged on a table near the bookshelves. He isn’t hard to find. Mark swallows the bitter taste in his mouth as he realizes how similar Jaebeom is to Jinyoung. The regal way in which they carry themselves. An open book on one hand, cross-legged as their eyes follow the page. Steaming cup of coffee just an arm’s reach away. Even the way Jaebeom tilts his head is reminiscent of Jinyoung.

Huffing, Mark strides to his table in a stiff manner. What’s most infuriating is that Jaebeom is nice and polite while Mark is guilty of being just the tiniest bit spiteful. They exchange greetings and pleasantries. Mark silently admits that Jaebeom is handsome with his sharp eyes and his sharp smile.

“Good to finally meet you, Mark,” Jaebeom says, closing his book and setting it down. “Park- err, Jinyoung has told me all about you.”

Mark blinks. It’s unexpected but reassuring. “All good things, I hope.”

“All good things. Promise.” Jaebeom grins, taking a sip of his coffee. “Speaking of Jinyoung, will he be joining us today?”

Mark shakes his head and ducks. “He’s actually the reason I wanted to meet with you today.”

“I gathered as much,” he nods, sitting back and crossing his arms. “What can I help you with today?”

Mark doesn’t answer immediately. He isn’t sure how to approach this conversation. He berates himself a bit for not preparing what to say, fidgeting from the pressure of it. His chair creaks in answer, urging him on. Jaebeom’s expression isn’t unwelcoming, so he supposes diving into the topic shouldn’t be too problematic.

“Jinyoung is different,” Mark starts. It takes time to explain because it’s not easy. Jinyoung is as different as he is the same. “His behavior, especially towards me… it’s not like how it was before. I mean, it is. But it isn’t.”

There are lines of wisdom in Jaebeom’s face. Mark has never seen eyes so mature on such a young face. The similarities with Jinyoung is baffling.

“I guess enlistment does that to people.” When Mark doesn’t show any signs of replying, Jaebeom continues. “My uncle says the best reasons to enlist is that there’s no greater calling than to serve your countrymen, that there’s no higher contribution than to assist the weak, and that there’s no deeper satisfaction than to have done it well. I think it’s a crock of bull.”

At this, Mark perks up. “How so?”

“For one, we don’t choose to enlist. The only thing we have a say in is when we have to pack up our stuff and go, but even that decision is limited,” Jaebeom states. “One thing my uncle was right about though is that you can experience a deep satisfaction upon enlisting. It has absolutely nothing to do with serving the country, helping the weak, or doing your job well.”

Mark doesn’t have to ask what it is. Jaebeom answers that for him.

“I personally believe that the deepest satisfaction you can experience in the military is learning about yourself. Waking up before the sun rises, sweating it out under the glaring heat and feeling like you’ll melt into the ground and become mud -- it’s draining. But it allows you to think, enables you to be honest to yourself. It teaches you what’s necessary and what isn’t. And in the same sense, who are essential and who aren’t.”

The book between them lies flat. There’s a quiet buzz in the shop, and Mark notes that people who are now just getting off work are filtering in. A heavy weight settles on Mark’s stomach.

“So… So you’re saying Jinyoung is acting differently towards me because he thinks…” Mark gulps, almost whispering. “Because he thinks I’m not essential?”

Jaebeom looks pensive as he pauses. Mark wonders what he’s thinking of and deflates.

“I will say that... Park wore a necklace during our enlistment and never went anywhere without it. Like a dog tag. I thought it was an engagement ring, but it was a key. I assumed it meant a lot to him because he would often touch it when he felt weak or distressed. As for who and what he thinks are essential to him, that’s not something I have the answer to. Only Park can answer that.”

Jaebeom clears his throat.

“All I know is that in the eighteen months we were in there, the thing he was most looking forward to was coming back home and playing Mario Kart with his best friend Mark.”

That’s all that Mark needs to know.

❆❆❆

Mark races against time.

They’ve exhausted too much in the years between.

Marks sends Jinyoung text messages, requesting where he’s at. Jinyoung doesn’t reply, even on the long journey from eastern Seoul to Mark’s apartment complex. Not in the subway ride. Not in the speedy walk from exit to the streets. Mark decides to check Jinyoung’s apartment first, but on the way back to the complex, Mark sees a man in the park he frequents.

Funny how it begins here and ends here. A shiver escapes him, a sign that the vapors in the clouds have crystallized just like Mark’s feelings.

At twilight, they fall from the sky. They mold onto the grass, melt into the glass windows and metal hoods of the cars lined along the parking lot. Streets surrender to their chill, and they blink white upon passing the buzzing streetlights on their way down. Silently, they accrue at the bottom of the plastic slide.

Up above, the young moon peeks at two young men. One holds onto cold chains, half-heartedly swaying back and forth on an old swing set. From across the lot, surrounded by the first sign of this winter’s snow, breath coming out in smokes, the other cups his hands and calls out a name.

“Jinyoung!” Mark shouts. The silhouette turns. Jinyoung is pale from the cold, and Mark sees his lips becoming more purple than red the closer he gets. “Jinyoung, hey. I found you.”

"Mark hyung. Hi," The younger blinks up at him. “You found me? Were you looking for me?”

“I tried contacting you, but you weren’t answering.”

Jinyoung searches his pockets and realizes that he doesn’t have his phone. “Ah, sorry. I thought I brought my phone with me when I left earlier, but I guess not... Was there something you wanted?”

Mark wants a lot of things. Jinyoung has to be the top of that list.

“I guess you could say that."

Jinyoung waits. “...And?”

“And,” Mark scrambles, looking around at the swingset before gesturing at the seat beside Jinyoung. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Of course not.”

As soon as he calms himself, Mark exhales. He feels light and heavy at the same time, needs an answer so he isn’t stuck in limbo between heaven and hell.

“Are we okay?”

Jinyoung resembles a deer in headlights. Perhaps he didn’t expect Mark to bring it up so easily. “What makes you ask that?”

“You’ve been acting differently towards me. Ever since you came back from enlistment, we haven’t been the same,” Mark hugs himself. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Jinyoung’s silence is unsettling. Mark practically sees the gears turning in his head. He anticipates and dreads the answer at the same time.

"I'm sorry I haven't been the same," Jinyoung replies. Mark is unsure how to feel having his thoughts cemented. “You probably noticed that I haven't been as forward or as... friendly as I used to be. The reason is that I discovered a lot of things in the last two years.”

Mark’s Like? is left unsaid.

“My squad captain told me something, how our time there is like a personal quest, a journey that would break us down and build us up. And in the process, we'll be able to let go of our inessential desires. We'll figure out what's necessary for life and what isn't."

The words are a reflection of what Jaebeom told him not too long ago.

"The first thing I discovered was that I would give my life for my squadmates. Jaebeom? Junhee? Wonpil? I would do it in a heartbeat.” Jinyoung’s voice is resolute when he states it. A tingle discharges along Mark’s arm. The snow might be getting to him. “If I was called into the battlefield tomorrow, I would fight. But I would fight not because I love Korea, or that I have a false sense of patriotism embedded in me after my time in the military. I will fight for my squad with my life. The things that we went through in there? Together? Nobody will be able to take that away from us. They’re like family to me.”

Jinyoung’s hand automatically goes to the center of his chest, pinching the cloth between his thumb and forefinger like one does to a beloved necklace.

“But you. I don’t know if I’d be able to give my life for you,” Jinyoung doesn’t look at him as he says it. Cold chains complain beneath Mark’s grip. He holds it so tightly he thinks it might crack under his strength. He thinks the little noises sound like an animal dying. He thinks he knows where this is going. “I know how that must sound, but let me explain.”

If Mark could find his voice, he’d protest and say Explain what? There’s nothing to explain. You already said it all there.

“It’s- uh,” Jinyoung struggles, hands pushing at his own face and sliding up the crooked beanie warming his head. Even now, Mark wants to fix it. “It’s not because of the reason you might think. I don’t know if I’d be able to do it because giving up my life for you entails letting you go. And I can’t give you up. It would mean surrendering up our time together, letting our memories fade into nothingness. I’d be giving up my favorite person.”

Mark is floored. The heart, when excited, pulsates with increased energy. Mark read this in one of his biology books. Boy, were they understating it. It doesn’t just feel like increased energy, it feels like infinite energy, impossible as that may sound. Like the little muscle is pumping overtime, nonstop. Emotional and unwilling. His ribcage is in full, rhythmic vibrations. Beats bombard his ears, booming like a stereo. Even his fingertips feel the thrum happening all around his body.

“Call me selfish. Or delusional. But I can’t do that,” Jinyoung continues. This time, he doesn’t watch the ground. He turns to Mark and confesses. “You've always been a complicated matter for me. You were that fine line between platonic and romantic. I wanted you to be in my life until we were old. I still do. And the feelings that have grown in me, the emotions that have squeezed themselves there, jeopardized that. So I figured that my dilemma would be resolved if I got rid of these feelings. So I tried to distance myself from you. But I didn't realize now... that in doing so, I was hurting the both of us. I already spent almost two years without you, hyung. I can’t do that, not again.”

Jinyoung has finally said it out loud. Mark is essential. Upon Jinyoung’s declaration, Mark stands and trudges through what little snow has accumulated between them. Jinyoung’s face is cold when he takes it in his hands. Nothing can stop Mark now, not when Jinyoung is here saying what Mark thinks he's saying.

“You don’t have to.” Jinyoung leans into his hands and his words like a child to his blanket. There are still a few questions Mark would like to have answered, but he figures there are more important things at hand to worry about. Like how the ice threatens to split his lips and break his skin. And how Jinyoung’s face is a contrast of ghostly pale and rosy from the frosty breeze. Mark reaches out to fix Jinyoung’s hat so that it covers his ears. Taking special care for Jinyoung is second nature to him. Perhaps that's why Mark cannot remember pulling him into a semi-hug to help him avoid a puddle. It's so normal for the elder that he considers it routine. “We should go up soon.”

“In a bit,” Jinyoung smiles wantonly, burrowing his face into Mark’s torso and wrapping his arms around him.

Mark sighs and settles his arm against Jinyoung’s head, a shield of some sort from the weather. The air calms down. Even the leaves that had been resisting the wind have surrendered. After several hours pass in that minute, they slowly break apart.

Jinyoung stands up, giving him the opening that he needs. It’s now or never. Under the freezing weather, on the sleet-covered grass, Mark meets Jinyoung’s lips. The sensation is not ideal, their chins freezing, their lips chapped. Jinyoung tastes like ice, but Mark thinks it’s perfect.

The kiss is chaste, unhurried but fleeting. It's brief, like the time it takes for leaves to concede to the wind or the seconds that pass as raindrops nosedive from the sky to the earth. When their mouths finish the chase, they don’t pull away from the embrace. Though their lips have withdrawn, their foreheads refuse to separate. That’s fine. It helps Mark ground himself because he feels like floating away.

“Do you remember how we watched the first snowfall during our first school year together? The year you moved to Korea?” Jinyoung wonders, reddening from the lack of distance between them.

“How could I forget? You were the only one who put that much effort into trying to communicate.” Mark remembers their attempt, recalls how it had been so challenging that they had no choice but to partake in the conversation using hand gestures and google translate.

“Right,” Jinyoung laughs self-consciously. “Well, I’m glad we get to experience it together again.”

Mark agrees.

“The first snow is nice.”

Mark takes his hand when he leads them up the floors to his place. Feeling the sensation of Jinyoung’s fingers between his, Mark knows. This time he's certain that he has found what he had been looking for.

Hours later, the clouds have let up. The frosty assault has ceased, and the darkness has fully crept in. Mark and Jinyoung find shelter in the elder’s apartment, in the comfort of his bed, facing each other in relative silence. 

During dinner, Mark had asked why Jinyoung was evading Mark’s touch. And why Jinyoung himself had been less clingy than before. To which the younger had answered, that he realized in the barracks that having Mark in his life was more than enough, and he didn’t want to ruin the glass bubble they had created by pursuing him. It was an echo of what he said before.

And if Mark were to pursue him? What then? The older man had suggested. They had already kissed, but nothing was official. To this Jinyoung replied, if they promise to still be in each other’s lives, even if the relationship falters, then he’d be a fool to refuse what Mark is offering.

Now, they spend the hours learning each other’s bodies in ways they never have before. Fingers discover new patches of skin. Lips taste what they’ve sought. Endless kisses in the dark. Mark and Jinyoung fall asleep in each other’s arms, pleasing words of reassurance working as a lullaby, sung in whispers between kisses and bewitching them to a deep, satisfying slumber.

❆❆❆

Caramel fringe flutters around Jinyoung’s vision. Blinking his eyes, it takes a moment to realize that it’s not his hair blocking his view but Mark’s. A slight shiver runs down his spine, and it’s half to do with the open window and half to do with how Mark has his arm wrapped around Jinyoung’s shoulders.

Heat encircles the vicinity. Sharing body warmth like this means that the bed is slightly damp from the bit of perspiration. The wetness is a little uncomfortable, but Jinyoung doesn’t mind being uncomfortable if it meant cuddling all night with Mark.

His lips still tingle. His tongue still tastes sweet. He snuggles close to Mark’s chest, enjoying the pleasant sensation of the pectoral muscles there. A comforting mixture of vanilla and spice fills Jinyoung’s lungs as he inhales Mark’s scent. With most of his senses overflowing with Mark, Jinyoung feels like a freshman again.

How much time has passed since they’ve gone to bed? Is it evening? Is it dawn? Jinyoung looks about for an answer.

Outside, the skies have cleared up to a midnight blue. Pale moonlight filters through and dapples the floor. It would have lit the blanket in patches if they were using one, but Mark and Jinyoung are tangled without the added weight of a comforter. Similarly, muted sounds permeate the window in packets. The distant noise of a passing car from down below. Loud talks among unruly teenagers trudging home after long hours at the local hagwon. Staticky voices from an active television closeby. The melodious whistle of chilly, late-autumn air. They weave themselves in between Mark’s light snores and heavy breathing.

Heart full and cheeks warm, Jinyoung carefully removes himself from Mark’s grip until he can reach his phone without waking his boyfriend. His boyfriend. It has a nice ring to it, Jinyoung thinks as he sits up. The backlight is blinding when he turns it on. Notifications pop up, but he ignores them as he logs onto one of his social media accounts.

It takes a moment to find it, but when he does, there’s an overwhelming sense of satisfaction flooding his emotions. He shakes his head as he reads through the comments once more. College students are silly. Laughing in silence, Jinyoung overlooks the comments and edits the post.

Just as he was about to close the app, Mark makes a soft noise and comes closer to him. Hair disheveled and face rumpled with sleep, the elder settles himself against Jinyoung.

“Come back to bed,” Mark beckons tiredly.

Jinyoung chuckles as he locks his phone and settles it onto the nightstand. “I am in bed, pretty boy.”

“You know what I meant,” Mark huffs, cheeks barely puffing out. His voice is gravelly when he first wakes, it seems. Jinyoung has never experienced it from this close before. It’s too intimate for his own good. “Come cuddle me so I can go back to sleep.”

Jinyoung feels like snow meeting the first ray of the vernal sun and melts.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Under the dim light, Jinyoung wiggles closer to Mark. And as he clicks his body into place, Mark immediately curls around him. Jinyoung doesn’t even protest, too content with how he’s pulled close so that his back meets Mark’s chest.

He hears Mark hum and whisper a “good night” in his ear before planting a series of soft kisses from his jaw to neck. 

Despite not using a blanket, Jinyoung feels warm. The evening chill doesn’t penetrate their little sanctuary.

“Sweet dreams,” Jinyoung sighs contentedly, letting go of all the years he had suffered through in the last several months.

He has grown older in the days between October and November, but nothing compares to how many decades he spent in the barracks, counting the days until he gets to come back home. Sweating blood and tears with his platoon, sleeping in bunk beds too small for his adult body, crawling in mud as he yearns for a loved one, relying on a key and the promise of home to keep him grounded... it all felt too much like he was at war. No matter. He was a victor in the end, and a triumphant song ascends as he glances at Mark sleeping by his side.

Come morning, Mark will wake Jinyoung with butterfly kisses, feather-light and teasing. Jinyoung will rouse and pull him in, enjoying the morning with languid locking of the lips. The cold, crispy air will seep in from the open window. Little birds will sing their morning calls, high and in an arpeggio. Cars will honk as they drive by, and they’ll move in big groups despite it being early on a weekend. Sunlight will infiltrate the comfort they’ve built in Mark’s room. But none of those things will distract them from giving love to each other. Jinyoung may have a habit of standing rod straight, but he bends his back whenever Mark insists.

Later, Mark will see that there was an update on a post he had been following. On Facebook, listed in the university confessions group, anonymous poster #6077 has edited their confession.

Update! I tried to tell him the night before I left for the military but ended up chickening out. It doesn’t matter though. He saw this post, and it prompted him to do something about it. Turns out, I’m not the only one who feels this way! Just took him longer to realize. Anyway, thank you for all of the lovely comments and wonderful advice. Hope you all find the love you deserve as well!

Except the ones who called me homophobic slurs. You lot deserve hell.

-Peach