Jinyoung’s left hand absently plays with the fine hairs at the nape of Mark’s neck. Mark shivers slightly as Jinyoung’s right hand slips beneath his shirt.

Yugyeom doesn’t know exactly how long he stands behind the sofa and watches them before he lifts his cup over their heads and tilts it.

“, that’s cold!” Jinyoung howls as he leaps off the sofa. “What the hell, Yugyeom?!” Jinyoung throws his hands up in frustration before he storms out of the room. Yugyeom can’t suppress a smirk as he watches the older man leave, but it dies once he looks down and sees Mark staring at him.

“Why did you do that?” Mark asks softly, a deep frown on his face. Yugyeom wants to be nonchalant and shrug, but he can’t bring himself to do anything but chew on the inside of his cheek as his stomach starts churning.

“What’s gotten into you, Yugyeom? Why have you been giving Jinyoung such a hard time these days?” Mark sighs and he gets up to retrieve a towel to sop up the water on the sofa, shaking his head as he goes. There’s no anger in his voice, only disappointment, but that just makes the churning in Yugyeom’s stomach intensify.

“Because I wish it were me in his place,” he says it so low that he can barely hear himself.

“Huh?” Mark stops and turns on his heel. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Yugyeom shakes his head.