Chapter 25b

JinYoung's school days flashed before his eyes. When MiRa mentioned being a single mother, he'd suddenly remembered how children were treated who 'didn't have a father'... and when he was older, he had heard about one or two girls who had found themselves pregnant for men who wouldn't marry them. He remembered the laughing and the rumours. He'd even heard of one woman from his university who gave her child up for adoption and disappeared because things had become so unbearable.

No matter how he felt about the prospect of marrying MiRa, he couldn't subject her to a lifetime of that kind of treatment.

Whatever happened, they were both responsible for this situation. It wasn't something that she alone should suffer for. And suffer she would, unless he married her.

How could this be happening? Just a short while ago, Mark and I were so happy and now...

Now, he had a baby on the way. Whatever he felt, he couldn't let someone suffer who'd had no say in the matter. This baby had not chosen its parents or this situation. So, what else could he do?

But as he considered the reality of marriage to MiRa, as the thought sunk in that it was really going to happen, JinYoung went pale.

If he did that, any chance of a life with Mark would be gone forever. But JinYoung loved him so completely, so utterly. How could he give him up?

I can never . . .  I can never . . .

"MiRa . . . please . . . I just can't . . . "

MiRa's gaze hardened. She couldn't believe that after all she'd said, he would still continue to think that not marrying her was an option left to them.

Then another thought . . . one that had lurked in the background for some time . . . one that was hidden in a dark corner, almost imperceptible, yet just as inextinguishable, now rose to the front of her mind.

"JinYoung . . . why did you go to Seoul?" she asked carefully.

"What . . . ?"

"Why did you go to Seoul?" she reiterated. "The morning after we . . . were together for the first time, you ran away to Seoul. Why Seoul?" she asked steadily, with her face still streaked with tears. "Did you go to see Mark?"

"Mark has nothing to do with this."

"I'm not so sure. I'm beginning to think he has everything to do with this. Actually, if I really think about it, from the beginning I had a strange feeling about your friendship with him. It always seemed in some way not only to be close, but to always come first. He was nice enough to me, I guess, but when he was still here, I always had the feeling that . . . he was somehow coming between us. And when he moved out, you acted like . . . well, you didn't act like someone whose roommate was moving out." Her look took on a more suspicious quality as she continued, "And when he sold you his half of the business, you weren't just stressed out because of the extra work, you seemed actually depressed, as if . . ."

She paused, thinking . . .

And my friend, SeYeon, she even thought that you two . . . " she whispered.

JinYoung's insides felt like they'd been dashed with ice water . . .

" . . . and after we spent the night together, you ran off as fast as you could to Seoul without even one word to me. What was the real reason you abandoned me after our night together, JinYoung? What could have been so important? Seeing Mark? Isn't he with that friend of yours . . . YoungJae?"

"YoungJae? Why would he be with YoungJae?"

"So he's not," she deduced. "They're not together. Then, is he alone? Is he living there alone? Is that how you knew you could just drop in and see him? You were sure he'd be alone, weren't you?"

"MiRa . . . "

"Have you been using me, JinYoung?"

"Using you . . . ?"

"Was I just a cover for you? . . . JinYoung?"

He didn't answer.

"I can't believe it . . . I just can't believe it . . . is that why? . . . " She looked at him seriously.

"I deserve to know the truth, JinYoung and I deserve to know it now . . . . What does Mark really mean to you . . . ?"

"MiRa . . . "

"I didn't want to believe that could be true. He might be that way, but not you . . . not my JinYoung. I thought that the problem was that maybe someone, somehow had broken your heart in the past and that you just found it hard to love someone again . . . hard to trust them and that's why you were afraid to get close. But was just something I made up in my own head, wasn't it? Just something I invented to explain everything away that was happening between us, but that didn't really happen, did it?"

"MiRa, what are you saying?" he asked her in quiet anxiety.

"Tell me the truth, JinYoung. What is really between you and Mark? Are you . . .  gay?"

*                               *                               *                               *                               *

"JinYoung. Are you okay? Did you arrive safely? I tracked the flight on the computer the day that you left and it landed okay, so I'm sure you're fine. This is really only an excuse to contact you again. Have you read my other messages? It's okay if you haven't. I know you're busy. Have you taken time to eat? I don't want you skipping meals and running your health down whatever the emergency is you're dealing with. Please take care of yourself, JinYoung-ah. I'm texting all this because I just wanted you do know how much I love you. And how much I miss you. This morning, when I woke up and didn't see your face on the pillow next to mine, I felt so empty. Sometimes, I hate words. Empty wasn't what I felt. I felt more than empty, but I don't think there's a word that can describe exactly how I felt at that moment.

I've had so many thoughts. I'm sorry to say that one of them was, why did you have to come here in the first place and remind me of what I was missing? :-) of how wonderful you are? :-) I was getting on pretty well without you, you know. :-) My life was . . . but now . . .

I miss you, JinYoung-ah. Come back soon."

Then Mark's finger hovered over the 'send' button.

But he didn't send it. He did with it exactly what he had done with all the other messages he'd written to JinYoung over the past days.

He saved it.

He can read it when we're together again. I know . . . he'll laugh at how stupid I've been...missing him so much after such a short time apart. We'll both laugh . . .

Mark didn't know why, but even though he was smiling at the thought of them being together again, of them laughing together again . . . tears were starting to well up in his eyes.

Come back to me, JinYoung-ah . . .

Only three days had passed since Jinyoung had left and it had been torture for Mark.

How did I make it through all that time without him? he wondered.

It was already dark outside and he still had about an hour to go before his shift ended. He'd just come into the back to check his phone briefly and to type that message that he would never send. He was just gathering himself when HimChan stepped into the office.

"What are you doing back here?" Mark asked trying to discretely blink the emerging tears back into his eyes.

"What a greeting. Nice to see you too, Mark."

Mark tried his best to smile at him. "You know I'm always happy to see you. It's just that..."

" . . . you weren't expecting me . . . I don't work this shift . . . we hadn't made any plans, etc., right?"

"I didn't mean to sound like that, it's just that you just came in when . . . "

" . . . when you were checking your phone for the umpteenth time. I know. I noticed."

"Oh."

"I've come to take you away from all this," HimChan said with a flourish of his arm. "I mean when your shift is over. I wouldn't want the boss to give you the sack," he kidded.

"Yeah, I've heard that guy is hard to deal with," Mark smiled crookedly, in a sad attempt to take part in the joke.

"Yeah, but he's cute, so it's not too hard to put up with him. But seriously, I'm here to take you out when you're finished. I'm springing for dinner, so come upstairs when you're done and we'll go."

"Honestly, HimChan, I don't think I'll be very good company . . . " Mark explained.

"Why? Because you'll be checking your phone every thirty seconds to see if your boyfriend has texted you?"

"Try every ten seconds," Mark replied, attempting to smile.

"You can check it every two seconds if you want. It won't bother me. Really it won't. We're friends, right? I just don't like to see my friend so miserable and have to act like I haven't noticed. I hate that. Pretence. You're miserable because you haven't heard from JinYoung. Perfectly understandable because you love the guy. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn't understand that?"

"HimChan . . . "

"You're coming with me and that's final. You can look as miserable as you want. You can cry in your beer. You can sob until you hiccup. You can sit stony-faced and not laugh at any of my jokes. You can stare into space. You can do whatever you want, Mark. You don't have to entertain me. I just want to be there with you, maybe making you feel a little better, but then again . . . probably not. I just want to be there."

At these words, Mark leapt out of his seat and rushed over to HimChan pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, HimChan. Thank you for understanding."

HimChan rocked him gently and rubbed small circles of comfort on his back as they stood there holding each other.

"You've really got to stop doing that, Mark, or people will start thinking we're an item," he smiled. "and you wouldn't want that to get back to JinYoung would you?"

Mark wiped away a tear that had started to trickle down his face.

"No," he said with a sad smile.

HimChan pulled back to look into Mark's eyes.  Then he said quietly, "speaking of JinYoung . . . he will be in touch. He loves you more than anything. I could see it in his face . . . when he wasn't staring daggers at me, that is. No news is good news, right? He'll be in touch. I'm a pretty good judge of character and I think the only thing that could keep him from you is death, so he will be in touch. Now, wipe your tears and get back on that floor. Customers are waiting. I'll be waiting for you upstairs afterwards, okay?"

As he turned to leave, Mark called out, stopping him.

"HimChan, if you're here to pick me up, why are you so early? I have at least an hour left to go."

"Key came in to finish off BamBam's shift because the kid had an exam today, right?"

"Right . . . "

HimChan smiled broadly.

"I'm here to see the stalker. YuGyeom phoned me and let me know he was here."

"He what?"

"I told him to. Anyway, what I really want to know is: how did that guy know Key would be working this shift? It's not his regular. Creepy, but I hear the guy's a real looker. I've got to get a ringside seat to see if he's a nut job or not. I told you, I'm a great judge of character. See you later," he waved and then went out the door.

Mark leaned wearily against the wall. Then he looked at his phone again.

No messages.

"No news is good news, right JinYoung-ah?" he said to himself before tucking the phone back into his apron and heading out the door.

*                                *                                *                                *                                *

JinYoung was sitting on his bed staring at his phone. He'd been willing his phone to signal a call or a message from Mark for what seemed like hours. He wished that just this once Mark wouldn't have respected his words. He wished that he would just be so overcome with the desire to contact him that he would do it even though JinYoung had basically asked him not to.

"Why do you think so much of me, Mark?" he wondered aloud. "Can't you disregard me this once? Can't you just throw a tantrum and demand that I get in touch? Accuse me? Berate me? Why do you respect whatever I say? . . . Why? . . . WHY? . . . "

He slid down into the bed and started to pound his fist against a pillow.

"I'm sorry, Mark . . . I'm so sorry . . . "

His voice broke as he began to weep in earnest.

"I love you, Mark. Why is everything so hard? I just love you, that's all. Why does it have to be so hard? Why is that so wrong? It's not wrong, is it, Mark?" he chuckled to himself. "It's not, is it?"

Then his face took on a blank expression.

"I didn't tell her. Did you know that? She asked me. Directly. And I still didn't tell her. What would be the use? It won't change anything now. What purpose would be served by telling her now? It felt like . . . like it would make what we had . . . somehow . . . . . . exposed like a carcass to be ripped at by a bunch of vultures. Somehow, it was like she didn't deserve to know."

"It's too late, Mark. Did you know that? Is that why we . . . why we felt that way? Is that why we both had that strange feeling when we were together again?"

He began to chuckle to himself again.

"It would have been to good to be true, right, Mark? We would have been too happy, right?" Then tears fell as he smiled, "I don't deserve to be happy, but you do, my Mark, my dearest love. I was just hoping," he said raising his eyes to the ceiling, "that just for someone as wonderful as you to be happy, I could just be an instrument . . . just there to be used for your happiness . . . because . . . because you deserve it . . . "

He looked at his phone. His wallpaper. It was a picture he had taken of Mark at Runaway. He brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

"I'm sorry, Mark," he said speaking to the picture, "I can't tell you what I've done. I can't tell you how badly I've ruined us. I can't tell you that . . . how can I? How can I break your heart . . . ?"

He wiped his eyes messily.

"My mother says I have to grow up, Mark. Is this what it means to grow up? If it is, I wish I could have stayed forever young with you, my precious, precious love. Holding your hand and running into our sunlit life together. Together . . . always. But . . . it seems I can't, can I?"

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