Hello, You Dear, Wonderful, Patient Readers!

Sorry I took this long to update, but as a reward for your patience, I can now present you with over 4,300 words' worth of story.

Thank you for all your comments. I hope you like this installment. Happy reading!

Chapter 34

Mark was looking at his phone.

He was reading over all the messages he'd typed but hadn't sent to JinYoung. As he read them, he felt more and more like a fool. All the time he'd been worrying about JinYoung, he'd been planning on getting married to MiRa. Yes, JinYoung had finally come back to him, but he had intended to just come to tell him to his face that he was about to become someone else's for the rest of his life.

He scrolled through the lines of desperation, of concern and . . . the declarations of love. And with every word he felt more and more disillusioned.

And angrier.

*                                *                                *                                *                                *

He punched  and kicked the heavy bag over and over again. Even though he knew the way he was going his muscles would be aching for days afterwards, he just couldn't stop. Each time he connected, he struck a blow against everything that had happened. And blows against himself for still feeling enough for JinYoung to be hurt so deeply.

Working on the speed bag, concentrating on keeping his rhythm steady, helped keep his mind away from JinYoung temporarily. But he couldn't realistically work out all night to divert his thoughts, so all too soon, he had to retire to the showers.

As he stood there with the water pelting him, he started to feel the exhaustion hit him. It wasn't just the work out, it was everything that had happened with JinYoung.

"Come on, what's taking you so long?" Jackson asked, poking his head through the locker room door. Then, he noticed that Mark was, once again, looking at his phone.

Mark looked up. "How could he do this to me, Jackson? How could he do this to us?" he asked pitifully. Now that the strenous workout had spent his anger, his emotions had fallen back into sorrow and confusion.

Jackson came in and put an arm around Mark's shoulder.

"He thought it was over between you two, Mark. He thought he . . . had to, in a way. I'm not trying to make JinYoung into some sort of heroic good guy or something, but you left and he thought he was making a life for himself where he could at least make his parents happy. It was a mistake. Just one big mistake. That's all," Jackson said in his patented direct Jackson way.

"I know all that," Mark replied. "But I still can't help feeling betrayed and angry."

"Of course you do," Jackson agreed. "Everything he did is understandable, except maybe not telling you about everything before you two . . . you know . . . got back together. And the disappearing without a word about what was going on didn't win him any prizes either." Then Jackson took a quick look at his watch. "But, hey, we'll have to have a heart-to-heart another time. JaeBum and YoungJae are expecting you."

Mark put his phone in his pocket, grabbed his bag and they both left the locker room.

But he couldn't leave the thought of JinYoung behind.

*                                *                                *                                *                                *

"I feel bad leaving JinYoung-Hyung alone," YoungJae said to JB as they stood in the latter's kitchen. "Is this what it's going to be like from now on," he asked, "choosing between him and Mark-Hyung . . . not being able to invite one if the other is invited?"

"I don't know," JB said, taking a moment to embrace his boyfriend from the back, encircling his waist with his arms as he planted a thoughtful kiss on the side of his neck. "I'm just hoping that even if they won't be a couple anymore, maybe if enough time passes, they'll be able to be cordial enough to spend time together as friends."

YoungJae turned around in JaeBum's arms and faced him. They kissed sweetly on the lips, before JB lightly kissed the tip of YoungJae's nose. Then they just held each other.

Feeling JB's arms around him made YoungJae feel so warm and comfortable. He loved him so much. He couldn't help thinking that this was probably the exact feeling that Mark and JinYoung had shared for all those years. The thought of it being gone forever was awful.

YoungJae looked into JaeBum's eyes.

"Isn't there anything we can do? I can't think that after all those years together, it would be over, just like that."

"Like what?" JaeBum asked.

"I don't know, but if something like this happened to us, I would like to think that friends would try to do something about it."

"But JinYoung told him everything already: so I don't know what either of us could say or do that would help."

"But, JinYoung-Hyung looks so miserable. He keeps trying to hide it and act like everything is pretty much normal, but I know him and I can see how much this is hurting him. I think Mark-Hyung must be feeling miserable too. After all, he waited for JinYoung-Hyung to come back, so until just a couple of days ago, he still really loved him. If they're both unhappy apart, shouldn't we try to help them get back together?" YoungJae asked.

"Everybody's unhappy just after a break-up, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they should get back together," JaeBum reasoned. "There are reasons people break up, YoungJae and usually, they're good reasons. The people standing on the outside who've always seen them together, don't like the looks of things, but that doesn't mean the people inside the relationship should stay together. If it's so bad they broke up, they must know all the ins and outs of what's going on between them better than we do, and we can't tell other people what to do," JaeBum advised.

YoungJae looked downcast. He was disappointed with JaeBum's 'hands-off' theory. He started to ask himself how open JaeBum would be to others' help if they ever had problems with one another. To him it sounded like JB would simply say, 'mind your own business' and not even consider giving YoungJae another chance. And that thought saddened YoungJae

"Hey," JaeBum called softly, cupping YoungJae's chin and lifting it upwards, so that their eyes met. "Hey, what's wrong?"

YoungJae didn't answer.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked again.

"Would you give up on us this easily? Would you not want anyone to help us, either, thinking that if we broke up, it had to be for a good reason?"

"No . . . no . . . I just . . . "

"But, you're doing that with Mark-Hyung and JinYoung-Hyung . . . "

"No . . . I just . . . I don't think we should interfere, that's all."

YoungJae chuckled cynically. "You say 'interfere' and I say 'help' . . . that shows how differently we think . . . "

JaeBum didn't believe this. Because of Mark and JinYoung's break-up, he was now starting to have trouble in his own relationship. Ever since they got together, this was the first unpleasantness that had taken place between them. He wasn't going to let that go on.

"Look, YoungJae, I just didn't want to get in the middle of this because they should both know what they want better than some well-meaning friend standing on the outside could . . . "

"But  . . . " began YoungJae.

"But, if it's that important to you, and if you really think it will help them at all, I'll talk to them," he relented. "I don't know what I'll say yet, or how anything I could say could possibly help, but I'll talk to them. Alright?" JaeBum said and then he pulled YoungJae back into a loving embrace before continuing quietly. "I want to see them back together as much as you do, okay? I really do," he cooed. "And, thank you for being so concerned and wanting to help. That's one of the reasons I love you so much. Your heart . . . " JaeBum said, then he kissed YoungJae's neck before pulling back to look into his eyes.

"I love you too . . . and . . . thank you," YoungJae said before leaning in to kiss his boyfriend's smiling, waiting lips.

Just then, JaeBum's cell phone signalled that he'd received a text. It was from Mark.

"I guess I'll have to try another time. Mark just asked if we would take a raincheck," JaeBum imparted.

YoungJae sighed.

"They're not going to make this easy . . . " he said.

*                                *                                *                                *                                *

Mark had pulled over on his way to JaeBum's. He just sat there for a while. After a few minutes, he had come to the conclusion that he unable to even imagine socialising, even if it was with close friends. He had been too mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted to make it over to JaeBum's for dinner. He knew they'd be somewhat disappointed, but he was happy to have friends he could be honest with, and not have to make up some excuse about why he wasn't able to show up. Now, he was throwing himself into his work and covering the third shift for Key in exchange for one of the additional shifts Key had taken while Mark was visiting his grandparents, and it was just what he needed.

"Hey, he just walked in," DaeHyun said, pointing his chin in the direction of the door.

"Who?" Mark asked.

"Key's stalker," he answered smiling broadly before pushing the swing-door with his hind end so that he could carry a crate of used cutlery and crockery into the back.

This was Mark's first time seeing him and he wasn't at all what he'd expected. No matter what the others had said, he'd expected a sort of sad sack who looked like he lived at home with an overbearing mother and only got to escape from his smothered mole existence once a day on some pretext or another. But he didn't look anything like that. Mark could tell by his clothes that he was fairly well-off and he definitely didn't look like his mother dressed him unless she was a fashion designer. On top of that, he was very handsome. His jawline was very strong, but there was a certain kindness that played around his eyes. After taking a swift look around, 'the stalker' walked up to the counter and placed an order. For two.

". . . and could you bring that upstairs?" he asked unassumingly.

"Of course," Mark answered. "My pleasure."

"Thank you," he smiled, before turning away to spring up the stairs two at a time.

In the short time he'd been standing at the counter, Mark had noticed the monogrammed cufflinks HimChan had mentioned. Also, the stranger's scent was familiar. It was faint, but obviously an attractive mix of products with which Mark was well-acquainted. The handmade, organic brand of toiletries Mark himself used. It smelled slightly different on each person, but the note underneath remained the same. But Mark wasn't the only one who used it. It was also a favourite of . . .  JinYoung's. What the stranger had applied to his skin was the same one that JinYoung used in the shower.

The scent transported Mark back to past showers he'd shared with JinYoung. Showers where they'd washed each other's bodies and hair and then rubbed that alluringly indulgent final product over each other's skin before rinsing. Showers in which they kissed, lapped at and held each other . . . touching . . . . . . caressing . . . until . . .

"Mark, the order is ready. Did you want to take it up, or should I?" RyeoWook asked.

"Um, no . . . no, I will," Mark answered, snapping out of his reverie.

As he took the tray and headed up the stairs, he was glad that an apron was part of the uniform.

Everyone was surprised that the stalker had stayed after he'd noticed that Key wasn't working. That was a first. But even more surprising was that he'd also ordered for two. So did that mean that somehow, when they weren't looking, he had finally drummed up the courage to ask Key out and they were meeting here for drinks? And to top it off,  Key hadn't mentioned a word to anyone?

No, that didn't sound like Key at all.

So then, what was he doing here? And why had he ordered for two?

They didn't have to wait long for an answer.

HimChan.

He swept in soon after the order had been deposited upstairs. Mark might have realised: one of the drinks was a favourite of HimChan's.

Looking even more gorgeous than he normally did, HimChan greeted everyone briefly before sailing up the stairs. Then, DaeHyun and RyeoWook suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to bus tables, which had been bussed only moments before, flew up after him. Although they, in part, suspected it, they were, nonetheless both astonished at what they saw. HimChan laughing and talking with the normally quiet, morose stranger.

"What's that all about?" RyeoWook asked DaeHyun as they descended the stairs.

"I don't know, but Key had better not find out about it. He hasn't really said much, but anyone could see that he's sort of . . . a little . . . okay, really into that guy . . . "

"What does HimChan think he's doing?" RyeoWook wondered.

"If he's doing what I think he's doing, we'd better get ready for a cat fight," DaeHyun said.

*                                *                                *                                *                                *

HimChan and Key's stalker had spent over an hour together before finally leaving. Together. Whatever HimChan was playing at, DaeHyun, RyeoWook and even Mark, thought it was a dangerous game. Mark hadn't even had a chance to ask about him anything about it before HimChan disappeared. He'd have to talk to him, though, although he wasn't sure what to say. HimChan was a free agent. He could see anyone he wished. But Mark didn't want any trouble between employees. Especially over a customer. No matter how good he looked. Or smelled.

*                                *                                *                                *                                *

The intrigues of the evening over, Mark was the last to leave. It was well after midnight by the time he'd finished locking up. He was walking towards his car, when he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He immediately froze in his tracks.

It was JinYoung.

As he almost seemed to glide towards him, Mark noticed his gait was different from the last time he'd seen him. It seemed to Mark as though he was coming back to his old self. Confident. Almost sassy. With a stride that Mark had always found particularly attractive.

And, if he could admit it to himself now . . . y.

When JinYoung finally stood directly before him, Mark could see his face clearly under the light of the streetlamps.

The dark circles that had ringed his eyes just days before were gone. His skin looked luminous. His hair shone and the few strands which fell just a little too low across his face, made Mark want to reach up and brush them aside, gently and carefully before leaning forward to . . .

"I'm sorry to waylay you like this, but there's something I wanted to tell you and, to be honest, I wasn't sure if you'd answer a call or read a text from me," JinYoung admitted.

But practically the only words Mark heard were, 'to be honest' . . .

That set off thought after thought of just how dishonest JinYoung had been. But, he said nothing as he felt the cold taking over the warm feelings he'd just been feeling for JinYoung.

With no response forthcoming, JinYoung's eyes, which had been shining, winced a little as his confidence took a glancing blow. But he wasn't going to stop. He had come here to tell Mark something and he wouldn't leave until he had.

"Did you read the letter I left?"

Mark nodded once in acknowledgement.

He's not going to make this easy for me, JinYoung sighed inwardly. But, do I deserve any better?

But before he'd even headed out to see Mark, he had already decided to take whatever was coming to him. He had to show Mark, not just tell him, that he was willing to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, for them to be together again.

"Then you know how I feel," JinYoung said.

"Yes, I know how you said you feel," Mark amended. "But then, I don't really trust anything you say anymore," he added coldly.

JinYoung reeled inwardly from the verbal blow, but showed nothing on the outside.

"I understand that you feel that way and why you do. I've earned nothing better than that," he said calmly. "But that is how I really feel, so I hope one day you can believe it, because it's true."

Mark felt himself struggle. JinYoung was standing before him. Looking him directly in the eye, telling him to believe all the words of that letter. That letter that he'd read every night since he'd opened it. A letter filled with everything he wanted to believe.

But he couldn't.

Visions sprang up of JinYoung with MiRa. His body with hers. Her feeling the touches and kisses which had previously been for him alone. And that, just the night before he and Mark had made love...

Visions of JinYoung being married to MiRa, as he'd intended, with Mark, helpless and hopeless to do anything against it, floated through his mind. And he knew that that was the reality of less than a week ago: marriage to MiRa. Now, according to the letter, he loved Mark everlastingly and would never let him go?

"In the letter," JinYoung continued, "I also said I didn't know what I was going to do. But now that I've decided, I didn't want to hide it from you or for you to find out from anyone else. I wanted you to hear it from me."

You've hidden things from me that were much more important, JinYoung, Mark thought crossly. But, he said nothing.

"I'm not going back to JeJu," he said. "I'm staying in Seoul. But I want you to know that I'm not telling you this to put any pressure on you. It's just that we have all the same friends and I don't want either of us to have to keep going out of the other's way." JinYoung took a deep breath before continuing, "So, I guess I'm saying, If you really can't see us being together, I guess I'll have to accept that, but I'm hoping that we can, at least, be friends. At the very least so that our friends don't feel like they have to choose between us."

Friends don't lie to each other, was just on the tip of Mark's tongue, but he swallowed it down. It was childish, and Mark knew it. Of course, what JinYoung was saying made sense. They had the same close circle of friends and it made no sense for them to have to divvy those friends up, or for their friends to have to choose which one of the two of them they would invite to a party or get-together. So, if it was true that JinYoung was really going to stay in Seoul, he'd have to learn to live with it.

"What about Escape?" Mark asked.

"You left it," JinYoung replied. "Why can't I?"

True, Mark thought. But inside him he felt something akin to a rip at the thought of JinYoung not being there. They had built it together. From the ground up. Somehow, he'd always pictured JinYoung there. And now . . .

"But, what about your parents?" Mark asked.

"What about them?" JinYoung answered in a quiet, strange voice. Mark knew that JinYoung had felt a lot of things towards his parents: topping the list were respect, affection and a keen desire not to disappoint them. Now, he seemed indifferent towards them. Why? What had exactly happened.

JinYoung smiled a pained smile.

"I'm not their son anymore, Mark. They've made that perfectly clear."

Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing. Especially after what had happened when he had told his own family.

"But . . . maybe they need some time," he tried.

JinYoung didn't respond right away, but when he did, what he said was shocking.

"They wished me dead, Mark." he said finally.

"They . . . what . . . ?" Mark asked incredulously.

JinYoung smiled bitterly. "I don't want to talk about it, right now. I just wanted you to know what I'm planning to do because I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have, Mark."

Mark's thoughts were swirling anew as he realised that the last time they'd spoken, JinYoung had only told him that he told his parents the truth. What had happened exactly? They'd wished him dead?

"JinYoung . . .  I'm . . . " Mark breathed with a look of sympathy on his face.

"It's nice of you to feel sorry for me, but . . .  that's not what I want from you . . . pity. . . . I guess . . . I guess I want something that I just can't have, but I'm sorry, Mark . . . I suppose I'll never stop wishing, or hoping that maybe one day. . ." he said, his voice fading in uncertainty.

They just stood, looking at each other under the light of the shining streetlamps; JinYoung, looking at the pitying visage of his former lover, until he could take it no longer. He loved Mark, and he wanted Mark to love him; he wanted them to feel the same way towards each other, like they had before. So, for him, a look of pity instead of one of love, was something he wasn't used to. And he didn't want to get used to it. It pained him to think that that was the most feeling he could get from Mark right now. He had to leave while he had some confidence intact. He had to leave before he broke down.

So he smiled a small smile he hoped exuded the little confidence he had left, and then meaningfully gazed at Mark before he whispered a simple, "Goodnight, Mark."

Then he turned and walked with Mark's eyes following him until he disappeared into the shadows.

*                                *                                *                                *                                *

That night, even after having worked twelve hours, Mark couldn't sleep.

He just kept seeing Pak JinYoung, as he had stood before him less than an hour ago, under a streetlamp.

Formerly, his JinYoung.

As he'd thought of JinYoung over the days since they'd last talked, Mark's feelings towards him had changed several times a day. In the beginning, he'd felt sympathy. But now, with each passing day, it had turned to interchanging, fluctuation moments of . . . Anger. Loss. Sadness. Numbness. Disappointment. Frustration. Self-Pity. And in those small, in-between moments, even . . . desire. But more frequently than all the others, anger had always returned.

Until today. Until he'd found out what price JinYoung had really had to pay for telling his parents the truth.

When they were together, JinYoung had often said that his parents would never accept the truth, but, honestly, Mark had never really believed that. The way they doted on JinYoung; their concern for him; how proud they always were of him: first, at school, then in the business . . . with everything he'd done, really, including dancing and singing . . . coming to his performances . . . cheering him on. Mark had been sure that they would accept it, accept the son they seemed to love so dearly. Sure, they could be disappointed at first, or even a little angry that their only son would never bring a wife home with grandchildren in tow, but that would soon pass, he'd always thought.

But he was wrong.

But to go this far? To would wish the son they loved so much and were so proud of, dead? Because of this?

All of the parts of JinYoung they'd loved were consumed in one fell swoop by this one fact: that he loved Mark?

Mark to his side and hugged a pillow close to him. He needed the comfort, because now, after all the days of confused emotion, he felt two things mainly.

The return of the sympathy he'd felt for JinYoung.

And guilt.

He couldn't have lived with the situation with MiRa indefinitely, but that JinYoung had landed upon such an idea in the first place should have given Mark a clue to how desperate he was. He knew his parents better than anyone else. He knew how they would react, and instead of supporting him by, maybe coming up with some other way of dealing with the situation, Mark had just harped on and pressed him to tell his parents the truth. And then he'd left him. Left him to handle the situation alone. And look what happened.

He hugged the pillow tighter and sighed sadly and wearily. Everything . . . everything had been smashed to pieces. But, he now had to face the fact that it wasn't only JinYoung's doing: he, Mark Tuan, by not listening to him, by not supporting him as he might have, had had a hand in it too.

As the night wore on, even his busy, distressing thoughts began to lose the power to keep him awake, and Mark felt himself slipping slowly to sleep. But even as he was being dragged down into the depths of slumber, the person of Pak JinYoung, as he stood under the streetlamp, floated behind the lids of his closed eyes.

And he recalled JinYoung's words. And decided that the least he could do was honour his request.

If they could be nothing else to each other, at least, for their sake and everyone else's, they could try to be friends.

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