Admit it, we’ve all had that fantasy.

Except, maybe in the fantasy, you get Prince Charming saving you from dragons, or evil queens, or ugly stepmothers. At some point, I had pictured Mark saving me from both Jackson and Namjoon. That somewhere along the story, things would sort themselves out and Mark would appear, all shining and sparkling at the end of the road waiting for me to run into his arms. It would have been the perfect happy ending. We’d laugh at how things happened, the crazy misadventures that lead us to each other, as we rode of into the sunset. I had all this pictured in my mental mini-theater, planned so far ahead, I failed to see what’s right in front of me.

However, in my version, the real life version, of the story, I don’t know for sure who is who and what is what. Had this been a scene straight out of my dreams, there wouldn’t be guilt or consequences to think of once all the chaos has cleared. It would have been happily ever after by now. Jackson would realize that I have no feelings for him and that he doesn’t really like me. Namjoon would realize the same thing and concede. I wouldn’t have to do anything but wait it out.

Sadly, this isn’t a universe where good things happen to me. The more that I think about it, the more I am lead to believe that I’ve been the villain all along.

“Are you okay?” Mark slows down to a leisurely pace. We’re back on the streets now, walking further and further away from the beach. The sun hasn’t quite fully set, the last of its light lingering in the sky, leaving everything bathed in a cool violet haze.

I can’t think of a proper response with my hand still neatly tucked into his, so I just nod. Kind of. Sort of. It’s not exactly a committed nod. It’s more like a half-hearted, indecisive nod. The kind that is grateful but at the same time aware of what happens next. I can replay the scenario as much as I want, but no matter what angle I choose to look at it from, there is no way Jackson and Mark are leaving this situation unchanged. There is no future in which Namjoon, and in extension the boy scouts, aren’t going to leave me unscathed.

“I guess you wouldn’t be okay after that.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

I tug my hand away. “Stop it!”

I’ve had enough. I’ve imagined this scenario so many times it’s ridiculous to see it happening this way. I wanted this, but not like this. I wanted Mark to notice me, but not because I got caught between Jackson and Namjoon.

“Just stop it. Stop being so nice to me. Why are you so nice to me?”

Mark lets go and stares off towards the direction of the beach. Warm wind whooshes between us, fanning the heat on my cheeks and on the corners of my eyes. I just want to curl up in some dark corner where nobody can find me and stay there forever.

“You think I’m nice to you?”

I step back and fold my arms over my chest. “You don’t have to be just because Jackson told you to.”

Mark tilts his head to look into my eyes. “You think I’m nice to you because Jackson told me to?”

I look away. I don’t really know what to think right now. But what else could it be? Why else would Mark tolerate me when he’s clearly stated his suspicions before. He never trusted me from the start, and he kept watch just to make sure I would’t do anything to hurt his precious best friend. So much for being careful.

“Come on.”

I hesitate long enough for Mark to look behind him and make sure I was following his lead. We move to an empty park and he runs to the other side of the street to get cold tea from the vending machines. When he returns, we sit in silence on opposite sides of a four-person bench.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, my drink leaving pools of condensation between my palms and over my knees. A part of me didn’t want to hear the answer, but the other part of me, the one that gets killed by curiosity, won that internal debate.

“Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Even now?”

He laughs. “I don’t know. Feels kind of silly, now that I think about it.”

“Do you think they’re still fighting?”

“Nah. Probably looking for you. Your phone isn’t ringing?”

I shake my head. “It’s on silent.” I don’t even want to think about reaching for it inside my pocket. “I don’t know what’s worse, seeing twenty missed calls and messages or not receiving any after all.”

Mark shrugs. Why can’t he just talk like a normal person around me? I’ve seen him with Suzy and Krystal and the other girls in their group of friends and he’s never like this. Never this frustrating. Never this annoying. I’ve seen him talk and laugh and joke around. I’ve seen the look on his face after a perfecting a trick or a stunt on his skateboard, the way he’d look so dejected after finding out Jackson ate the last of his food. Why can’t he just be normal around me?

A moment later, he speaks. “Don’t worry about Jackson.” He says this towards the trees lining the park. He looks up at the canopy shading us from the moonlight. Beams of moonshine filter through the foliage and he catches them in his palm. “Or Namjoon.”

“That’s kind of inevitable. After what I did.”

“You didn’t really do anything.”

“That’s the point. I didn’t. I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Because staying close to Jackson meant I could stay close to Mark, and Namjoon and the boy scouts aren’t at all what I thought they were. I had hoped that things would work out. I was afraid. I still am. More now than ever before. I was so afraid of losing what little hold I had on everything and everyone I didn’t realize I never had leverage at all. I was so blinded by my ridiculous fantasies I lost my best friends in the process. “I don’t know. It’s…”

“Complicated?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you actually like him?”

I turn to him for confirmation on which one.

“I don’t know. One of them. Whoever.”

Do I? I know for sure my feelings for Jackson remain at respectful admiration. We could even be friends, if maybe we ever find something we could talk about. The boy scouts are nothing at all like their reputation— true, they do in fact work the underground music scene, but not in the light the high school grapevine makes them out to be. As for Namjoon, I don’t know how I feel about him. Part of me, a big part of me is always surprised, another part of me always in disbelief, but I don’t actually know what any of it means.

I shake my head.

His brows furrow. “What was up with all that candy?”

I take a breath. There is no scenario in which the truth doesn’t come out. The best I could do, is tell the truth, albeit a half truth. All this time I’ve been working towards one end game alone, and although I’ve taken way too many detours than what is necessary, or humane, my intentions remain the same. Or I think they stayed the same.

I’ve spent all this time with Jackson, Namjoon, and even Mark if unintentionally and as an incidental detail with respect to Jackson and looking back, so many things have changed. But has my heart changed as well?

“I was delivering it to the wrong locker all this time.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

I nod, slowly. “I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth. I tried to make it right last sports festival and Valentine's, but Jackson suddenly came out of nowhere just as I was about to give my candy to the right person. And Namjoon…I was about to give a birthday present to the actual guy I like but then I fell over and my gift slid over to Namjoon’s feet and how was I supposed to know it was his birthday too? And he just goes assuming things and it’s the worst!”

Mark tilts his head back and laughs out loud.

“Are you actually laughing at my agony!”

“It’s funny!”

“It’s not! It’s awful!”

“Why didn't you just sit them together and go all, ‘guys, here’s the thing’?”

“Because! In case you haven't noticed, I am terrified of Kim Namjoon. It’s not like I could just walk into the boy scout’s lair and say ’So here’s the thing…’ and with Jackson…well…he just kind of…”

“Didn’t let you talk?”

“And now…I’m in the middle of this huge mess and…”

“Well, you can look at it this way, at least you’re out of it now.”

This is also true. “Aren’t you mad at me, though?”

Mark took a moment to answer. It scared me, then. The thought that I could be irredeemable in his eyes. Even if this, whatever this is, is all we could ever be, I don’t want him to ever think of me as that kind of girl.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I can’t really tell if you’re just stupid, clueless, or if you just have the worst luck in the universe. I guess…right now, it’s all up to what you plan to do now that the worst is about to come.”

“Stupid? Clueless?” I could feel my eyes twitch.

He laughs again. “In any case, I was the one who dragged you out of there, so I guess I kind of have to take some of the responsibility.”

“You don’t have to.”

He shrugs. “Yeah well, Jackson’s gonna stab me with his sabre.”

“Is he really?”

Another shrug. “Who knows.”

“Seriously.”

“So you’re gonna have to take responsibility for that.”

“I never asked you to—“

Mark’s laughter catches me off guard once again. This isn’t the best place or time for it, that much I know. I know in my head I should be scared and worried and that I should start planning my funeral in the event that I don’t survive the days to come, but at this very moment, I can’t very well tell my heart to stop beating.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Yeah…well…it happens.”

“That’s why I said stop being nice to me.”

I look away when he turns to face me. Somehow, this feels like the end. That tonight is the last night I could ever be with Mark like this. One by one the images of what happens next flash before my eyes. Jackson would hate me, for sure. Someone with so much passion as he does would not take this lightly. His friends would think I’m awful, if they don’t already. I never fit in with them, try as I did. As much as Jackson tried to integrate me into his people, there was always this grand divide. As for Jackson himself, the feeling that I never really knew him is more acute than ever. Looking back, all he ever talked about was fencing and whatever he and his friends did last weekend. That should have given me insight to who he is as a person, but it never felt that way.

Namjoon and the Boy Scouts could so easily make my life a levelled up brand of personal hell. Seokjin always looked at me funny, like he knew things no normal person should know. The way he smiled, the way he prodded things towards directions they normally wouldn’t go— I wouldn’t put it past him to be some omnipotent being masquerading as common folk just for the fun of it. For so long I thought Namjoon was the scariest member of Bangtan, but it just might be the soft-spoken Seokjin who would make me suffer for doing what I did to his friend. Because, after all, no matter how you choose to look at it, Namjoon, even if he is Rap Monster, didn’t deserve what I did to him. None of the boy scouts do.

Maybe this is why Nari hates me. I kind of hate me now, too.

Mark takes the nearly crushed bottle from my hands and sets it between us. Then he twists open the cap of his cold tea and hands it to me. I don’t know if I should take it, but he pushes it into my palms.

“Didn’t I just tell you—“

“Get over yourself.”

“What?”

Mark looks away and back towards the canopy. “I said get over yourself. Sure, stuff happened, and maybe you need time to feel bad about it, but this isn’t the worst that could have happened.”

I kind of want to hate him now, too. “That’s not…I…You can’t just…How…” I take a long sip of the now lukewarm tea instead. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I did. Better believe it.”

“Thanks.” I mutter.

“I’ll walk you home.”

It’s a silent walk, just like every other time Mark would walk with me. I didn’t expect my wake up call to come from him, of all people. I didn’t really expect anything to happen the way they did, but Mark is right. I’ve let this thing go on for so long, dragged it out far much longer than it should. The only way to go from here is forward, even if it meant straight into the fire.

I sneak a glance at my companion. He has his head down, eyes on his feet and pensive as we make our way to my side of the neighborhood. His bangs have grown longer, tickling his nose when he’d look down. I take in the moment. I may never get to be in it ever again.

“What?” he asks, eyes flitting towards me.

This time I don’t look away. “Nothing.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t get you.”

He scoffs. “You’re not one to talk.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

I scoff. “You’re the weird one. You’re so weird. You realize, the first time we actually talked, it was about dalgona?”

“It was about the soccer field and the scheduling of games.”

“What?”

He walks ahead, looking back only when he realizes I’ve stopped in my tracks. “What do you mean what?”

“Dalgona and then what?”

“Conversation. Sports Committee last year? You keep accusing me of things. We talked properly then, too.”

We did. I was delirious. I couldn’t stop talking about it for days. To my dad, even. I forced Nari and Youngjae to join the Sports Committee because Mark was in it. I did all the work for them because I wanted to be around Mark’s breathing space. That’s how I found out Mark smelled like peaches. That’s why I make peach flavored candy. For him. Because of him. “I…we did?”

“Who’s the weird one, now?”

“You remember that?”

He shrugs. “I remember a lot of things.”

“Shrugger. You keep doing that.” I exaggerate a shrug to demonstrate a point. As in, how does he remember that? Did I totally make a fool out of myself for the memory to be significant? Is he always ‘Crap, here’s that weird girl again’ when he sees me?

“I don’t do it like that. You make it look weird.”

“Because it is weird!”

Mark pushes me. He actually pushes me so I push him back and run ahead before he decides to retaliate. A cool wind passes by me, momentarily lifting the humidity in the air. My lips pull into a smile.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Is that why you don’t make candy anymore?”

“Is what why what?”

“Why you don’t make candy anymore. Because you realized you’ve been leaving it in the wrong locker all this time?”

“Nari fed me wrong information okay! That was not my fault!” But I hadn’t thought of it that way before. I just stopped making candy, but it never occurred to me why.

“Why didn’t you leave a name on the note?”

“Because it’s cooler without the names,” I confessed. “And I never thought of it like that before…why I haven’t made candy.”

“Makes sense now. Kind of. Are you gonna make them again?”

We’re almost at my house now. “I don’t know. Maybe. I need to check my recipe and make sure it’s not too sweet.”

“I liked them.”

“You said that already.”

“I’m saying it again. I meant it.”

“Maybe I’ll make some for the school fair.” I take the last few steps towards our gate. “Sorry you got into all this. But thanks.”

He takes a step backwards as he send me a mock salute. I watch him turn his back, about to call out my thanks again when he whirls around.

“For the record,” he starts, walking backwards. “I’m not nice to you because Jackson told me to. And I’m not exactly nice to you either.” Then he turns on his heel and walks away.