Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3333206.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      GOT7
  Relationship:
      Mark_Tuan/Jackson_Wang, Im_Jaebum_|_JB/Park_Jinyoung_|_Jr., Choi
      Youngjae/Im_Jaebum_|_JB/Park_Jinyoung_|_Jr.
  Character:
      Mark_Tuan, Jackson_Wang, Im_Jaebum_|_JB, Park_Jinyoung_|_Jr.
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Student/Teacher
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-11 Words: 10255
****** age is just a number (not when you're a minor) ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     All Mark wanted to do when he returned to his alma mater was to teach
     Math. He does not expect the delinquent he meets even before class
     starts, nor does he expect to fall in love with said minor.
Notes
     Please note that there are sexual situations with a minor - 17 years
     of age - in this fic. If you're uncomfortable with this, please do
     not read. Dedicated to gotchick on livejournal.
 
 
"Are you okay?"
 
 
There is a teenager on the ground, mumbling curses under his breath as he picks
at the scrape on his elbow. Mark holds his hand out, bending down with his
other hand on his knee for balance so he wouldn't fall. His eyes are filled
with concern for the boy on the ground.
 
Said boy levels him with a glare, piercing enough that it makes Mark want to
withdraw his hand and take a step back. He doesn't have to - his offer of help
is slapped out of the way by the boy, who rolls his eyes at him and flips the
upended skateboard by his legs with a strong kick. The annoyed part of Mark
wants to show how he could do that too, and that this boy wasn't any better
than him just because he knew a few tricks that Mark could perform better.
 
"No one asked for your help," The boy snaps, adjusting the snapback on his head
and kicking off, skating away towards the direction of the school.
 
Mark hopes that whoever that boy is, he doesn't have him in his class.
 
===============================================================================
 

It's only his first day of teaching, and Mark already begins to wonder if he
should just quit this job and find another one instead. He isn't normally a
pessimist, but he walked into the office to see looks of pity and sighs coming
from his colleagues. Baffled, he had shrugged it off, receiving his class
assignment and walking off towards the classroom he had been assigned to as the
homeroom teacher.
 
 
The moment he slid open the door, Mark understood.
 
There is a moment of silence, and everything stops. The students, rowdy and
laughing, all turn to him. Their eyes scrutinize him, give him a once-over,
then again, and again. The boys sneer, the girls soften. Mark knows that he is
attractive. It isn't something that he likes to talk about, particularly, but
he knows that he's attractive, since many have told him so. He doesn't believe
himself to be, but if the girls' reactions are anything to go by, it's working
its charm on them.
 
The males of the class, however, roll their eyes at him. The ones who are more
polite - the ones who are only in the class because of their dismal results and
not their behaviour, sit silently in their seats and point their eyes to their
desk, ready for class to begin. The troublemakers - and Mark can tell that they
are; It's not hard. - continue to sneer at him, lips pulling up at the sides in
smirks and grins.
 
A ball is flung at his head with frightening speed and accuracy, but Mark is
young. He's 25, and in his prime. Couple that with the sports that he'd been
taking part in since he was in middle school - volleyball, basketball, surfing
and snowboarding - his reflexes were faster than almost anyone else's he'd met,
honed through strenuous training. His hand flies up, and he realizes that if he
had been just a second slower, the ball would have slammed into his face. The
amount of strength put into the ball was not small; His palm was hurting.
 
There was a low murmur of approval, and the group that had thrown the ball
stared at him, as though assessing him. Whatever they were trying to get at,
Mark did know, nor did he care at this point of time. With confidence that he
did not possess, Mark walked up to the teacher's table at the other end of the
classroom, putting his items down and turning to the class. He didn't bother
writing his name on the board, knowing that half of them wouldn't care, anyway.
 
Mark was not so old to not know that if you wanted these types of kids to
respect you, you needed to give them a reason to do so. Ball still in hand, he
tossed it up, bringing his hand up and down on the ball with all the force of a
spike that he used to train for, aiming it directly at the desk of the boy that
had thrown it at him. The ball rebounded off with a loud sound, flying to the
end of the classroom. There was a moment of awed silence that Mark took
advantage of.
 
 
"My name is Mark Tuan," He starts, training his eyes on all the students. If
there was something that Mark had, it was the ability to see the best in
people. The glint in his eyes was sharp, and while it was him trying to assess
each and every student the way that they had assessed him, it was also a way of
pretending that he was the one in charge. He knew very well that with students
like these, there was little to no way of controlling them. Better to be firm
and let them warm up to you than to put them down hard and have them hate you.
"Mr. Tuan will be fine."
 
A voice, a very familiar voice, drawled from the back of the class. "Mark,
huh?"
 
Mark turned to the owner of the voice, and was both surprised - because he
hadn't expected for the boy to be in his class - and not - because that voice
had already registered itself inside his head from the rude refusal of his help
this morning. He raised an eyebrow at the boy, then glanced down at the list he
had with him, complete with profile photographs, courtesy of the school's
administration team.
 
"Jackson Wang, I take it?" Mark asks, voice as polite as it had ever been.
There was a sharp edge to it that had the class 'ooh'-ing and laughing, as
though taking their teacher's words as a start of a war. Jackson said nothing,
merely scoffed and rolled his eyes at Mark. "Mr. Tuan will be enough. Your
wound, on the other hand, will probably need more than a simple band-aid to
heal properly."
 
Jackson bristled visibly, but wisely said nothing, his eyes flashing with
something that was too brief for Mark to see. Mark turned back to his notes for
a moment, but never letting the students have his back, always keeping an eye
on them, lest they do anything else. He took it as a battle he had won against
the younger, then reprimanded himself internally. Jackson was but a teenager,
one that had a penance for causing trouble. If Mark got pulled along with his
game, then Mark would be on the losing side.
 
"I'm your homeroom teacher," Mark continued, as though he had never been
interrupted in the first place. It was strange - he was never usually this
eloquent nor good with his words. There was a reason that he was teaching Math
rather than English, after all. "As well as your Mathematics teacher. There are
a few administration details that I would like to clear up with you, then I'm
going to take the time to try to remember all of your names. Any funny
business," And here he paused, making eye contact with most - if not all - the
students. "Any at all, and your names will be handed over to the disciplinary
committee immediately."
 
There was a general muttering across the classroom. He picked up the words
'backbone' and 'different', and concluded that most new teachers who were
pitiful enough - himself included - to be given this class as their first
normally didn't last long. It probably also explained why he had an immediate
spot as a teacher despite having zero experience in teaching, freshly graduated
with a degree in Math and nothing in teaching. Mark was determined to stay.
 
"Of course, you can play by your own rules, as I'm inclined to think that most
of you here do. However, I cannot assure you that I will be very civil when it
comes to disobeying my instructions," Mark concluded, smiling. There was an
edge to it, not the angelic smile that had the ability to make most of the
female population in university swoon, but a sharp one, as though daring them
to go against his words.
 
He straightened up, grinning this time, and it was so full of childish mirth
and glee that half the class were beginning to shoot him wary looks. "Now," He
started again, clasping his hands together. "Shall we begin?"
 
===============================================================================
 

In all, Mark thought that his first lesson had gone pretty well, seeing as how
he had started with almost the entire class wanting to kick him out of the
school. There were the girls that he'd managed to charm with just a smile and a
little crinkling of his eyes, but those were the ones who were more easily
dealt with. The guys, however, were not as susceptible to succumbing to his
charms.
 
 
Jackson Wang, in particular, was going to take a lot of work.
 
Mark had no idea what the boy had against him, considering the only time he'd
met the boy was when he had fallen down on the ground after his skateboard had
run over a stray pebble. But it was evident that Jackson disliked him, to the
point that he constantly snorted in Mark's class and paid no attention
whatsoever.
 
But there was something about him, something about the flash of something in
his eyes when Mark had told him to take better care of his wound that intrigued
Mark. Considering Mark was one of the most passive people you'd ever meet, for
him to take interest in someone just because of a flash of emotion was strange.
 
Mark didn't understand what it was, but he couldn't deny that it was there.
 
A quick chat with the economics and literature teachers - Im Jaebum and Park
Jinyoung respectively - had Mark understanding that Jackson Wang made it his
goal to chase out every single math teacher that they'd ever had. Because these
teachers were more often than not their homeroom teachers, class 1G had had a
total of 4 homeroom teachers since the start of the year.
 
"No one really knows what's happened to him," Jaebum says over lunch when Mark
had asked. Jaebum and Jinyoung had been in the school for about a year, give or
take, and had come in together. They seemed to be doing everything together,
and acted like a married couple more than anyone Mark'd ever seen, even his own
parents. They had also apparently taken it upon themselves to adopt - take
under their wing - Mark. "He used to be a really good kid, we heard. He fenced
- still does - and won competitions nation wide. Then something happened after
he graduated middle school, and he got progressively worse when he entered
Arcadia."
 
Jinyoung shrugs and turns his attention to his food. "We've all tried to
persuade him to tell us, or to coax him out of his shell, but it's all be
fruitless. He's built up walls for himself so tall that no one has managed to
climb in."
 
Mark bit his lip, feeling slightly nauseous. That someone so young would have
to do such a thing, that Jackson, a mere 16 year old would have built up walls
so high and so thick that no one had ever managed to climb in to see the real
Jackson.
 
Granted, Mark had only met the boy this morning, but he couldn't help but feel
his heart reach out to the boy. Whatever had happened to him in the time after
his middle school graduation to before his entrance into high school, it
probably wasn't pretty.
 
"He has multiple piercings now," Jaebum continues, chewing thoughtfully. "He
smokes, and really, no matter what you say, he does it anyway. His parents have
long given up on him as a lost cause. He still fences, but he hasn't won
anything for a long time; Not since smoking took away all his stamina."
 
"Why?" Mark stuns them - and himself - with his question. "Why would you give
up on your own child?"
 
Jinyoung looks up at him and swallows before answering, "He's not given them a
reason not to, Mark. Any attempt they've tried to get him back into fencing has
failed. Any attempt to get him to concentrate more on his work ended up as a
hopeless case. Jaebum and I have tried, too, but he doesn't take our classes so
it's harder. Plus, he doesn't seem to want to change."
 
At this, Mark keeps silent. He doesn't say what he's thinking, keeps it to
himself. Jackson Wang, he thinks, is an enigma that he is willing to take the
time to try to solve. What Jinyoung had said, about what his parents had done,
about getting the boy to concentrate on his work instead of wasting time away,
it all had something to do with achievements. There was nothing about loving
the boy, there was nothing about worrying about him. It was as though all
Jackson was seen as by his parents was that he was a fencer, was a student.
That he wasn't human.
 
Mark had been brought up in a loving family, where his parents constantly asked
how he felt, about his day, if he had eaten. It had been suffocating when he
was a rebellious teenager - tame, compared to Jackson, but still, teenagers
were teenagers - but he'd grown up to understand that there was a reason his
parents cared so much. The way Jinyoung had put it made it seem as though
Jackson's family did not know how to show him their love and concern.
 
No parent would willingly give up on their child, after all. Not their own
flesh and blood.
 
"Are you going to try to change him, Mark?" Jaebum asks, placing his cutlery
down. "He really hates Math teachers. It's going to be hard. Almost impossible,
if the fact that he slapped your hand away this morning when he didn't even
know who you were is anything to go by."
 
Mark keeps quiet, and Jaebum sighs.
 
===============================================================================
 

"Jackson," Mark calls just as he dismisses the class, getting the attention of
the boy just before he stalked out the door, bag slung over his shoulder.
Jackson was always the first one out of class, given that he didn't bother to
take any of his materials out, no matter how hard Mark tried to make him.
"Please stay behind."
 
 
He could tell that he was both embarrassing and annoying the teenager, but Mark
would not be Mark if he was as stubborn as he was. He gestured to the first
desk, to which Jackson rolls his eyes and slams his bang onto the table,
slumping into the chair with the most irritated expression Mark had ever seen
in his life. He was tempted to laugh, but knew that it'd be counterproductive
if he did.
 
Mark closes the door to the classroom and sits himself on his table, looking
for all the world like a 16 year old in Jackson's class, as though the
conversation that they were having was between two friends who were going to
start bitching about their teachers rather than a teacher speaking to his
student. Jackson raises an eyebrow at the move, eyes glinting, as though
assessing Mark.
 
"Your Math grades are abysmal," Mark starts, and he sees Jackson's face change
immediately, as though the other had expected something else. "I won't hold you
back after school for this, since I know you have fencing practice. However,"
He quickly adds when he sees Jackson about to stand up to leave. "You'll have
extra classes with me on weekends."
 
At this, Jackson flares up, pushing the chair so far back in his anger that it
topples over. "You have no right-"
 
"I've discussed it with your parents," Mark interrupts at this point. There's
no point in letting Jackson continue to rage at him. "Your father, in
particular, has given me permission. Saturdays, from 4 to 8, you'll have
lessons with me. They'll continue indefinitely until your grades improve, so I
suggest you put in effort."
 
Jackson glares at him like he'd personally offended him - and he had - then
grabs his bag and storms out. Mark sighs after him, rubbing his temple where he
could feel a migraine coming on.
 
===============================================================================
 

It's no secret from then on that Jackson loathes him.
 
 
He pays attention in class now, at least, because he doesn't want to have to
stay in Mark's weekend classes any longer than he absolutely has to, so he
needs to pass math. The dirty looks that he shoots Mark when he knows he's
looking at him say enough. 
 
Mark whines about it like a child to Jaebum and Jinyoung sometimes in the staff
lounge about how it's not his fault and that he just wants to help Jackson.
Jaebum laughs at him and ruffles his hair; Jinyoung just grins around his
mouthful of coffee with the most amused glint in his eyes. They both commend
him on his tenacity, but otherwise watch on, since Jackson takes neither of
their classes.
 
That weekend, Mark cleans up his apartment - or the dining and living rooms, at
least - to make it look at least somewhat presentable to the boy. Given
Jackson's personality, Mark could probably guess that the state of the
teenager's room was probably worse than his, but he didn't want to judge a book
by its cover.
 
He opens the door when he hears knocking, smiling at Jackson and his father.
His student's glaring up at him like he always has, and Jackson's father's hand
on his shoulder is tight, almost painful. Mark bows, and after assuring that
Jackson wouldn't be a bother, his father goes, leaving Mark and Jackson alone.
 
Mark gestures for Jackson to enter, telling him to put his stuff down at the
table, where he already has his books and stationery out. He closes the door
behind him and locks it, turning to see Jackson settling himself down. The boy
is sweaty, having evidently just come from fencing practice, and a quick glance
at his bottle tells Mark that it's empty.
 
He goes to the kitchen to pour both of them a glass of water, making sure that
Jackson's is a tall, cold glass. "You look thirsty," He comments when he
returns, and Jackson looks up, eyes zoning in on the glass. His gaze flickers
from it to Mark's face, looking a little slack-jawed as he accepts the glass.
"Drink as much as you want; I'll refill it for you."
 
"Thank you," Jackson murmurs, eyes flickering down. He gulps down most of the
water, sheepishly holding onto the glass when he realizes he'd finished most of
it. Mark laughs, a lilting noise that has Jackson's head shooting up to stare
at him again. He'd never heard Mark laugh, after all, being his student at
never having had a reason to.
 
He refills the glass and places it down on the table again, along with a small
plate of snacks that he had deemed relatively healthy for an athlete. "Help
yourself," Mark says. "It's not much, I concur, but since you're going to be
here till 8, you should have something first."
 
Jackson stares at him for a few moments as Mark opens up his notes, then slowly
takes a biscuit and bites into it, his eyes never leaving Mark's figure. He
breaks out of his trance when Mark turns to him and asks what he isn't sure of
from the past few days of class, turning down to look at his own scribbled
notes. 
 
"Integration, I guess," Jackson mumbles out. Mark had started the topic the
moment he came into the school, starting from where the previous teacher had
left off. It wasn't as easy as differentiation, which came more naturally. With
integration, you really had to think about it. 
 
Nodding, Mark took out his pencil and began.
 
===============================================================================

"Hungry?" Mark asks, roughly 3 and a half hours later. They'd been at it for so
long that even he was getting tired. Jackson was finishing up a question,
eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and didn't reply. Mark didn't repeat his
question, merely smiling softly. Jackson was capable of doing the questions,
and he was excellent in math if he tried. Thus far, Mark had not only taught
him what was in the syllabus, but also sneaked in some higher level questions,
and Jackson had been able to do them all.
 
He stood up, slowly, so as not to break his student's concentration, and went
into the kitchen to prepare a simple meal of carbonara spaghetti. He was
halfway through the sauce when he felt the heavy weight of a gaze on his back,
and turned to see Jackson standing at the entrance to the kitchen, piercing
eyes on his figure, face unreadable. 
 
"I'm almost done," Mark says, turning back to drain the pasta. "We're done for
today, too, so we have time to eat before your dad comes to pick you up."
 
Jackson still doesn't say anything, but his expression changes slightly. He
swallows, hands balling into fists by his side, then walks hesitantly into the
kitchen. "I- I can help to set the table..." His voice trails off, as though
not used to asking for permission. Mark thinks he probably doesn't, the way the
end of his sentence lilts up into something more like a question than an offer.
Mark smiles and shows him where the cutlery is, mixing the pasta with the
sauce.
 
He comes out with two plates of pasta to a set table, Jackson having packed all
his stuff and moved Mark's to a side, stacking them up neatly. It makes Mark
want to raise an eyebrow, but he doesn't, setting the food down. He tells
Jackson to start eating first, but the boy shakes his head and waits for Mark
to begin before eating.
 
The silence is tense, but it's the most comfortable that they've been since
their first meeting a week ago. Jackson eats quickly, but Mark does not know if
it's because of the taste or the boy's hunger. He chalks it up to the hunger
and finishes his food, aware of the way Jackson's eyes flit to him once in a
while, quickly looking away when he catches the student watching him.
 
The doorbell rings just as he starts to clear the plates up. Jackson shoots up
so quickly the chair behind him screeches, and he races to the door, things in
hand. Mark sets the plates down and walks to the door to open it, shooting Mr.
Wang a smile. 
 
"How was he, Mr. Tuan? I hope he did not give you any trouble?"
 
Mark shakes his head, one hand coming up to touch Jackson gently on the show.
He feels the boy tense up, but it's not shaken away, probably because his
father is right there. "He was wonderful, Mr. Wang. He's shown a lot of
improvement with just one lesson. As long as he doesn't start to slack off
again, he'll do great."
 
Mr. Wang shoots both Mark and his son an incredulous look that they both do not
miss. It makes Jackson stiffen even more, his expression starting to change
from neutral into a scowl, but Mark laughs, lightening the atmosphere. "He
really was wonderful, Mr. Wang. There's no need to worry about him."
 
Still somewhat doubtful, Mr. Wang replaces Mark's hand on his son's shoulder,
thanking him even as he led Jackson away. His student, however, stops abruptly
and bows to him with a soft 'Thank you' that has Mark breathless for a moment.
Then he's whisked away by his parent and Mark is left standing there, wondering
what just happened.
 
He moves back into his apartment, locking the door behind him and clearing the
plates. Mechanically, he goes through the movements of washing and drying the
utensils, pots and pans he used, thinking about Jackson and the way he had
bowed, the way he had said thank you, and the way there had been a small, shy
smile playing on his lips.
 
===============================================================================
"So," Jinyoung sits down on his desk the next Monday. "How was your weekend
class with Mr. Wild and Sexy?"
 
Mark shoots him a look that has Jinyoung giggling to himself enough that he
almost falls off of Mark's desk, which has Mark smirking to himself. "Mr. Wild
and Sexy?"
 
"That's what he calls himself," Jinyoung informs, voice grave as though he's
conveying the message that America has been invaded. "According to majority of
the student population, that is. It's a title that was given to him by the
first girl he charmed, and it's stuck ever since."
 
It's so Jackson that it makes Mark want to scoff and roll his eyes, but he
refrains. The Jackson that he had seen in his apartment was vastly different
from the Jackson that he saw in his class, and he didn't know which one he
should trust, which one he should believe was the true Jackson. He kept quiet,
instead.
 
"It was okay," Mark says, shrugging. If you discounted the fact that Mark had
been stunned by the expression Jackson had gave him at the very end, it had
been, in all honesty, okay. There was nothing special about his lesson, nothing
different from his usual tutoring sessions that he gave to other students after
class. "It was like any other lesson."
 
Jinyoung pouts as though he had expected something else, like to hear that
Jackson had ruined his apartment, or something equally disturbing, but Mark has
learned that Jinyoung is a sadist, and sends Jaebum a pleading glance. The
other sighs and comes over to physically drag Jinyoung back to his desk, the
whining literature teacher going along with him with the most petulant
expression Mark has ever seen on an adult's face.
 
For the entire day, Mark thinks of the way Jackson had smiled. Even in class,
when he's teaching, Jackson's smile floats into his consciousness and refuses
to leave, making Mark more confused than he ever had in his life.
 
===============================================================================
Their one to one lessons continue, and Jackson starts to open up more to him.
Mark relishes in the fact that he has managed to get Jackson to at least speak
to him like a normal person, and not a teacher that he had hated merely because
he disliked the subject that he taught. Jackson starts to ask questions when he
had remained silent in the past, and carries himself a different way from the
time he first came into Mark's apartment.
 
Now, he starts to prepare meals with Mark, standing side by side in the kitchen
while they both work on their dinner. He offers to pay for some of the
groceries, asking almost hesitantly, but Mark waves him off. He's the teacher
here, he couldn't make his student pay for a meal that didn't really cost much
more, anyway. 
 
"Mr. Tuan," Jackson starts, half a year after their lessons have continued. His
math grades have improved exponentially, but for some reason, when Mark offers
him to stop the lessons, Jackson refuses, saying that he still needs more help.
Mark doesn't understand - Jackson can do every single question Mark can find to
throw at him - but he takes it in stride. He doesn't mind Jackson's presence,
after all. Having a person to speak to during the weekends when he was used to
silence was comforting. "Thank you."
 
Mark turns to Jackson, placing the plates into the sink and leaving them to
soak, as he takes in Jackson's countenance. The boy is slouched slightly, hands
interlocked and fidgeting. It's evident from his body language that Jackson is
nervous, but what for, Mark doesn't know. He sits down next to Jackson on the
couch, where he had asked the boy to go sit while he cleaned up. "What for?"
 
Jackson doesn't speak for some time, and Mark does not make a sound. It's
pretty clear to Mark that this is important to his student, that what he's
going to say is something that Jackson has been keeping to himself for a long
time. "For caring about me."
 
This makes Mark turn to look fully at his student, who's biting his lower lip
and looks distraught. Mark's heart melts and he places a hand on Jackson's arm,
making Jackson look at him. "You're my student, Jackson," Mark says, smiling.
"Of course I care about you."
 
"It's not-" Jackson stops, swallowing. "It's not a given that you should. I was
horrible to you, the first time I met you, but you didn't even hold it against
me. And then you offered to give me extra classes when I probably didn't even
deserve them. You make me meals, and ask me if I'm okay. You can tell when I
need something when no one else can, and- And you-"
 
There are tears falling at this time, and Mark shushes the other, pulling him
into a hug. They stay there for some time, Jackson sobbing into his chest and
arms wrapped tightly around him, as though afraid that if he let go, Mark would
vanish. He's trying to voice something in between his hiccups, and Mark catches
the words 'parents' and 'fencing' and 'don't care', and realizes that all this
while, all Jackson had really wanted was for his parents to love him as their
child again. That Jackson had become a delinquent because he'd wanted his
parents to see him as Jackson Wang, their son, instead of Jackson Wang, the
fencer, or Jackson Wang, the one who'd disappointed them. 
 
"Jackson," Mark says softly, running his hands through the teenager's hair,
combing it out gently. "Your parents do love you, you know."
 
The boy tries to jerk away at this, but Mark keeps him in his embrace, knowing
that if he let Jackson start talking they'd end up arguing, and he didn't want
that. "Your parents do love you. They've just been showing it in different
ways. Different from what you want and need, evidently, but that doesn't mean
they don't care. They asked you to take extra lessons with me because they're
worried about your grades, and it'll affect your future. They make you do so
much in fencing because they know that you're good, and that you can make them
proud."
 
"Talk to them, Jackson," Mark finishes, this time letting Jackson peel himself
away from him. He smiles warmly at his student, brushing his bangs away from
his eyes. "They'll understand. You need to communicate with them. As long as
you do, they'll know what they've been doing wrong. They're your parents;
There's no way they don't love you."
 
There's a soft feeling in his chest as he says this, the warmth spreading
through him when he sees Jackson's watery smile. He grins back at his student,
patting him on the back to signify that it would be all right, and if it
didn't, then Mark was there to provide support.
 
Jackson leans forward and kisses him.
 
Mark's eyes widen, leaning back against the couch when Jackson presses closer.
The kiss is chaste, their lips brushing together the way snow would greet the
ground, falling softly, like Jackson is snow and Mark is the ground. As more
fell, Jackson pressed closer, the snow starting to pile up, more and more,
until it's no longer little snowflakes but a snowstorm, whirling Mark up into
it and leaving him breathless. 
 
"No, Jackson-" He exhales shakily, his hands coming up to his student's waist,
pushing him away. Mark wants this, wants this so much, but he restrains
himself. As much as his arms want to snake around his waist and pull him close,
kiss Jackson until his lips are swollen and his cheeks are pink, Mark knows he
cannot. Jackson is a minor, he's a mere 16 years old and Mark is 26. There's a
decade between them and Mark will lose his job if this goes out. "We can't-
Jackson-"
 
"You want me," Jackson breathes against his lips. It's a statement, not a
question, and the fact that Jackson can read him so well scares Mark more than
anything else. He's always been shut off from the world, an introvert, but
Jackson, Jackson who is a minor, Jackson who is 10 years younger than him,
Jackson who Mark is irrevocably in love with, can read him like an open book.
"Why do you fight it, Mark?"
 

Mark.
 
It jerks Mark out of his reverie, where he had started to kiss back, and he
pushes Jackson away so far that the other falls off the couch and onto the
floor. His eyes are wild, darting from Jackson's mussed hair to his red lips,
then to the door. He points at the exit with a soft 'out'. Jackson stays on the
ground, frozen, afraid that he had gone too far. "Out."
 
"Mr. Tuan-"
 
"Out!"
 
Jackson rises to his feet, slowly, burning in embarrassment and shame. His
eyes, however, are as determined as they had ever been, and just before he
closes the door behind him, he turns to look at Mark. "I won't give up. I
won't."
 
Mark curls up on his couch, numb.
 
===============================================================================
It's more than Mark can deal with. Jackson continues to try to advance, leaving
him small notes in between his homework that say how he won't give up and that
he'd try until Mark reciprocates his attempts. He doesn't write the word
'feelings', because he already knows that Mark feels for him what he feels for
Mark, and it's both extremely flattering and extremely terrifying at the same
time. He comes into class with small gifts, some that he bought and some that
he made himself. The homemade ones are those that affect Mark the most - that
Jackson would actually spend time making things for him was something that was
not easily ignored. 
 
He tries to stop Jackson, but the other is undeterred. "Jackson," Mark says
exasperatedly one day when Jackson stays behind to talk to him, the door
swinging shut behind the last student to leave. "You can't keep doing this.
We're 10 years apart, not to mention I'm your teacher. There'll never be
anything between us, so you should just stop this."
 
"Why do you keep telling me this?" Jackson asks, frowning. "Just because
there's an age gap between us doesn't mean that we can't be together.
I love you-"
 
"Stop."
 
"Mark-"
 
"Stop!" 
 
Mark is standing now, his face contorted into fury, both at Jackson and at
himself. He's had enough, enough of Jackson continuing his advances, even
though Mark has asked him to stop. He's had enough of trying to control
himself, knowing that he can't stop himself from loving Jackson, either.
 
Jackson and his small smile, Jackson and his huge grin, Jackson's voice calling
him Mr. Tuan and Mark, Jackson on his couch, crying into his chest, Jackson
beside him as they cooked, swapping stories, Jackson washing the dishes with
him, Jackson asking him questions in his muted voice, Jackson thanking him,
Jackson's handwriting as he writes out Mark's name, Jackson making him small
gifts, Jackson going out of his way to see him more, Jackson telling him that
he loved him, Jackson, all of Jackson.
 
He takes Jackson by the back of his neck and presses their lips together,
demanding. There's so much he would like to do with Jackson that it scares him
because he can't control himself and his urges. He wants to see Jackson above
him, wants to see how he'd be like dominating him, wants to see Jackson below
him, panting and writhing against him, wants to see Jackson when he wakes up in
the mornings and Jackson when he falls asleep at night. He wants to see Jackson
when he smiles and Jackson when he cries, and he wants to share that happiness
and sorrow.
 
And it scares him. So much. 
 
Jackson is pressing back against him, arms wrapping around Mark's slim waist,
pulling him closer. The kiss is heated, mouths sliding over each other, but
Jackson's hand on him is so gentle, so soothing, as though Mark were made of
glass and Jackson didn't want to hurt him, as though he were a small flower and
Jackson didn't want to tear him apart. Ironically, it did tear at Mark, tearing
at his heart that Jackson was handling him like this, as though he was the most
precious thing in the world.
 
He melts into the kiss, and he notices that there's no taste of cigarettes in
Jackson's mouth. Jaebum and Jinyoung had told him that Jackson smoked, so he'd
expected that there would be the taste of it, but there was none. 
 
"Mark," Jackson murmurs against his lips, his eyes soft and happy. "Mark, I
love you."
 
"Jackson."
 
===============================================================================
Mark learns that Jackson has been trying to stop smoking. "For you," He said,
when Mark asked him why he was trying to stop. He knows how difficult it is to
cure an addiction, but when Jackson comes over for their lessons now, he's
armed with packets of nicotine gum, and when they're done - it usually takes
them about an hour or so, because Jackson breezes through his math like he's
never done before - they curl up into each other on Mark's couch. "I don't know
about anyone else, but you don't seem the type to want to kiss someone with
cigarette breath.
 
This makes a laugh bubble from Mark's throat. He doesn't say that he wouldn't
exactly mind, if it were Jackson that he was kissing. He wants Jackson to quit,
to stop smoking those cancer sticks that Mark hates. He knows he's being
stupid, because even if Jackson didn't stop, he wouldn't stop loving Jackson,
but he can't help but feel touched that Jackson is thinking of him, even when
it comes to something like this.
 
There are the times that the withdrawal hits Jackson so bad that he can't help
but tremble, blood pressure falling. It's at times like these, when Jackson is
on the verge of fainting that Mark forgoes the lessons and gives Jackson a
glass of orange juice, bringing him to his bedroom and wrapping him in
blankets. Jackson likes to stare at Mark during these times, as though trying
to commit every detail of Mark's features to his memory. Mark doesn't know
whether he should be flattered that Jackson loves him this much.
 
Slowly, Jackson starts to decrease his nicotine intake. He becomes more
irritable, and has difficulty concentrating in class. Mark speaks to Jackson's
father and learns that Jackson has started to open up to his family more, and
that Mr. Wang has let Jackson take a break in his fencing until he manages to
kick the nicotine addiction completely. Jackson is more willing to return home
now, and smiles at his father when he drops him off and when he picks him up
from Mark's apartment.
 
When Jackson manages to quit smoking, he is 17 years old, 1 year from when he
first met Mark. Mark laughs and Jackson picks him up by the waist, spinning
them around they're both laughing and breathless.
 
"Come with me," Mark says, taking Jackson's hand and pulling him into his room.
He's delirious with happiness and glee, and Jackson is no different. He pushes
Jackson down onto his bed and kisses him, slow and deep. Their lips press
together softly, tongues sneaking out to play with the other. They're so
overwhelmed by everything that it progresses to sharing of breaths and laughter
than it is kissing, but it's still as loving all the same. "I'm so proud of
you," Mark praises, eyes shining, and Jackson's breath hitches in his throat
with how absolutely beautiful Mark looks. "So proud."
 
"Mark," Jackson breathes in return, pulling the other down onto him. Mark is
here, and he's warm and beautiful, like the sun. He's scorching, too bright for
Jackson to look at directly, but he can't help but want to try, blinding
himself with Mark's beauty and kindness because Jackson would not be here if it
weren't for Mark. Mark and his tenacity, Mark and his attempts to change him
into the person he had been before. Somehow, against all odds, Mark had
succeeded, Mark was here. Mark could have literally anyone he wanted, but he'd
chosen Jackson.
 
He pulls at Mark's shirt, tugging it up and off. In any other situation, at any
other time, Mark would have stopped the other. But now, but now, when Mark is
not in the right state of mind, when Mark is so ridiculously in love that he
can't help himself, he lets Jackson. 
 
Jackson marvels at Mark's abdomen, tracing the soft contours of it with his
fingers, tickling Mark and making him blush at the same time. Mark peels
Jackson's shirt off in return, leaning down to kiss his lips, then trailing
down to his collarbones, his chest, swirling his tongue teasingly around the
other's nipples. Jackson arches, little breathy moans escaping his mouth, and
he threads one hand into Mark's hair. 
 
"Want you," Jackson says, voice breathless with want. "Mark!" 
 
Jackson is looking at him with so much lust and love that Mark wants to bottle
that gaze up and keep it forever, wants to tie Jackson down to his bed so that
no one else will be able to see that look on Jackson's face. "Mine," Mark
whispers, leaning down to kiss Jackson again, so caught up in the other's body
and presence that he can't think. "All mine."
 
"Yours," Is the choked reply. "Mark, I-"
 
Mark leans up to grab the small bottle of lubricant, uncapping it and telling
Jackson to remove his pants. The younger does, lifting his hips to kick off his
pants and briefs, pulling Mark's off, as well. Mark exhales shakily, kicking
his clothes off and squeezing lubricant onto his palm.
 
The bottle makes a squelching noise as it deposits its contents into Mark's
palm, and for a second they both pause, and neither makes a sound. Then they're
laughing so hard, Jackson doubled over and Mark having a hard time keeping
himself up. It's ridiculous, and they shouldn't find the situation as funny as
they do, especially with the both of them as hard as they were, but they can't
help but keep laughing, Jackson's hyena laughter and Mark's only giggling
echoing through the room. 
 
They're stupid, and stupidly in love and in lust, and when their laughter
finally dies down, Mark throws the empty bottle over his shoulder and grabs
Jackson's cock, still giggling slightly even while he did so. Jackson squeals,
the cold shocking him, but then he's moaning when Mark begins to work his hand
up and down, stroking rhythmically. Mark leans down to whisper dirty,
nonsensical words into his ear - gonna fuck you so hard, jackson, yes just like
that, arch your back for me, you're so naughty, jackson, spreading your legs
like this for me. yeah, you like that? come on jackson, yes, yes, just a little
more, baby, come for me - and Jackson's eyes snap wide open, biting his lips as
he arches off the bed, gasping Mark's name and hands scrambling for purchase. 
 
When he comes back to himself, Jackson finds Mark smiling softly at him, eyes
warm and gentle and loving and it makes Jackson so ridiculously happy he can't
help himself. He glances at Mark's hand around his own erection, tugging, and
he pulls Mark down onto the bed, settling him back down and straddling the
other. He rubs his ass against Mark's cock, batting his hands away. Mark's
groaning, making these erotic little whimpers as Jackson grinds down harder,
and it's not long before Mark's coming with a shout of Jackson's name, hands
grabbing onto his hips as he jerks up and spills himself.
 
"Jackson," Mark laughs, fondly, and there are tears in his eyes when he reaches
his clean hand up to caress Jackson's cheek. "You're so precious to me."
 
Jackson smiles.
 
===============================================================================
As it turns out, it doesn't last.
 
Mark goes into work on Monday to find the entire office silent. They're all
looking at him with a degree of disrespect and resentment, and only Jaebum and
Jinyoung speak to him. They pull him aside immediately, dragging him to the
empty teacher's lounge. 
 
"Are you with Jackson?" Jinyoung fires immediately. Mark doesn't answer, but
the way he stiffens and his silence is answer enough for the other two. Jaebum
shakes his head like a disappointed parent and Jinyoung slumps down as though
the world's coming to an end and there's nothing they can do to stop it.
 
"How do you know?" Mark manages to get out after a while. His voice is soft,
his throat parched. No one was supposed to find out; No one was supposed to
know. How did Jaebum and Jinyoung know, how did the school know when he and
Jackson had always been careful, had always made sure there was no one around
whenever they touched each other romantically?
 
Jinyoung shakes his head, looking down sadly. "Jackson's father came into the
school this morning."
 
Mark flinches at the words, and he backs into the wall, sliding down with the
most forlorn expression on his face. He looks like his world has come crashing
down, the only anchor from him to reality gone. He looks up, whispering a quick
'Jackson' and stands up, but Jaebum grabs him and prevents him. "No, Mark."
 
"I have to-"
 
"Jackson doesn't know."
 
This has Mark staring at Jaebum incredulously. How could Jackson not know that
the school knew they were together when it was his own father that had told the
school? He held no doubt in his heart that Jackson would not have been the one
to tell his father, so it was obvious that they had been careless, and that had
led to Mr. Wang finding out. 
 
"If you go anywhere near Jackson, Mr. Wang's going to charge you with rape,"
Jaebum informs, his eyebrows drawn together. "He wants you to leave. The
principal has agreed; There's an opening in Brazil for an exchange teacher.
It's a 5 year term, and the principal has agreed that you leave, and Mr. Wang
won't charge you for anything, since you gave them back their Jackson."
 
Mark crumbles, and he sobs.
 
It is hours later, when Jaebum and Jinyoung have ended their classes that he
pleads for their help. They refuse, at first, but Mark begs them. He knows that
Jaebum and Jinyoung are dating - it's no secret to anyone that can pick up a
few hints - but he needs this, needs to do this because he can't lead Jackson
on anymore if he's moving to another continent in 2 days.
 
"I need you to help me cheat on Jackson. With you."
 
===============================================================================
Mark knows that Jackson is coming. They'd planned to spend the evening
together, after Jackson finishes his fencing practice. Mark had prepared snacks
that he knew Jackson would like, had been prepared to watch Jackson do his
homework while he graded papers. He had been expecting a perfect evening where
Mark would be able to stare at Jackson for as long as he wished.
 
This is not the evening Mark had planned for.
 
Instead of Jackson, he has Jaebum in his bedroom, quiet. Jaebum is here because
Mark is with his boyfriend, pretending to cheat on Jackson, and Mark's heart
breaks a little more with each passing second. Jinyoung is on his lap, and the
door is haphazardly thrown open. It looks, for all in the world, like Jinyoung
had burst into Mark's apartment and proceeded to make out with him, but to
Mark, it's fake and makes him want to throw up.
 
When they hear the sound of the elevator, and the footsteps that Mark has
committed to memory, he pulls Jinyoung close and kisses him. He knows Jaebum
isn't watching - the possessive streak that Jaebum held in him was phenomenal -
so he imagines Jinyoung is Jackson and kisses him with all the fervor of a
lover. 
 
He hears the footsteps stutter to a stop and moans, wrapping his arms tightly
around Jinyoung's waist and pulling him ever closer. "Jinyoung," He murmurs,
gasping in between kisses. "Jinyoung, Jackson'll be here anytime soon-"
 
"Hush," Jinyoung returns, and if it were any other time, Mark would commend the
literature teacher on his acting skills, but he's too busy trying to stop
himself from bursting into tears and holding Jackson close for the rest of
eternity. "Who's more important here?"
 
Mark moans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. To Jackson, it might
have seemed as though Mark was tilting his head back into pleasure, but it was
merely Mark's way of preventing his tears from falling. "Y-You."
 
The footsteps thud back to the elevator, following a muffled choke. When they
heard the elevator's ping again, they detached themselves from one another, and
the look Jinyoung gives him is pitiful.
 
Mark breaks down, and cries.
 
===============================================================================
Mark leaves the country, bringing along his items, the one shirt that Jackson
had left at his place, and, unknowingly, Jackson's heart.
 
===============================================================================
A year and a half passes. Arcadia is no different, except Jackson is
graduating. Jaebum and Jinyoung watch as the other walks mechanically up the
stage to receive his diploma, his eyes empty and unfeeling. Jackson has never
been the same since Mark left, since he saw Jinyoung and Mark in the latter's
apartment. 
 
He doesn't even blame Jinyoung. Honestly, the literature teacher would feel
better if Jackson would just lash out at him, yell at him for breaking him and
Mark apart, and for Mark's abrupt departure that the school only explained as a
'transfer'. Instead, Jackson takes his class, and Jinyoung marks his essays
that are filled with sorrow and hurt and 'Will I ever be good enough for
someone, or will I forever be insufficient?'. Jackson is the best student he's
had in ages, but Jinyoung would throw that all away if he could have Mark and
Jackson back.
 
===============================================================================
"Jackson," Jinyoung calls. 
 
The graduating student turns to him and stares at him with the deadest eyes
he's ever seen, and Jinyoung's heart contracts a little. He feels Jaebum walk
up behind him, and gains a little more courage, a little more confidence.
 
He thinks of Mark's eyes when he'd heard that the school had found out about
their relationship, thinks of Jackson's face when he returned to school one
day, a changed man, thinks of Mark's grin when he's happy and Jackson's when
he's around the former. He thinks of all these things and tells himself that
Jackson deserves to know.
 
===============================================================================
Mark stays in Brazil, and teaches. He speaks the language, yes, because he's
lived here when he was younger, and though he'd forgotten most of it when he
returned to America, it was easy to pick it back up again, and soon he's
speaking it like he'd never forgotten it. He's courteous with the teachers and
friendly with the students, but he keeps his distance.
 
He remembers Jackson.
 
Sometimes he takes out Jackson's shirt from the cupboard he has in his rented
apartment and holds it close to him. Sometimes he sobs himself to sleep,
clutching his cold pillow and desperately wishing for Jackson. Sometimes he
wakes up and sees Jackson smiling down at him, only to reach out and realize
that it was his imagination.
 
Mark continues to love Jackson, even from so far away. He wishes he could
return to California to take Jackson back into his arms, wishes that he could
love Jackson again, wishes that he never had to break Jackson's heart.
 
He'd never even been able to say goodbye to Jackson, and that is Mark's
greatest regret. 
 
===============================================================================
Jinyoung receives an international voice mail one day when he wakes up, tangled
in Jaebum's arms. The other is a heavy sleeper, so he removes himself from the
mess of limbs that they'd gotten themselves into some time during the night,
and listens to it.
 
"Jinyoung," It starts, and Jinyoung jolts up at the familiarity of the voice.
Mark had changed his number when he wet to Brazil, and never told anyone of his
new number. Jinyoung had been desperately trying to contact him, find ways to
call him, but he'd never been able to. 
 
"Jinyoung, this is Mark. Jinyoung, are you okay? I'm not okay, Jinyoung. I miss
Jackson. I miss him a lot. Is it bad to fall in love, Jinyoung? It hurts. Why
did I fall for him, Jinyoung, why? I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to
hurt him, but I did. Jinyoung, does he still hate me? Does he still love me? I
love him so much, Jinyoung. I can't stop thinking about him. Jinyoung? Jin-"
 
He feels arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into a chest, and it's only
then that he realizes that he's crying. Jaebum's holding him close, rubbing
soothingly down his back, and Jinyoung sheds his tears into Jaebum's chest,
soaking the older man's shirt with them, but it doesn't register.
 
Jaebum, on his part, doesn't mind. Mark was one of their good friends, in the
year that he had been teaching at Arcadia, and they liked him, more than they
liked any other colleague. He had been forced out of his country by the father
of his student, by the father of the one that he loved. Forbid to speak to him,
Mark had left the country for half a decade with a short notice to his parents
and having to break the heart of his lover. It made sense that Mark was still
holding on to memories of himself with Jackson.
 
Jaebum himself couldn't stand the idea of having to break Jinyoung's heart as
thoroughly as Mark had had to break Jackson's. Sure, it was for the latter's
own good, that he do that, but he knows it doesn't soften the blow. That it
hadn't softened the blow when he and Jinyoung had told Jackson that Mark had
always loved him, and that Mark had never cheated on Jinyoung because he loved
Jackson and only Jackson.
 
"It'll be okay, Jinyoung," Jaebum comforts, shushing his sobbing lover and
bringing him back to bed. "We told Jackson, remember? They'll work it out.
Somehow, they'll make it. When Mark returns, they'll be able to go back to what
they were before Jackson's father broke them up."
 
Jinyoung doesn't know if what Jaebum is saying is true - who would know these
things, after all? - but he takes his lover's words as true, and falls back
into a fitful sleep.
 
===============================================================================
It's been 5 years.
 
5 years since Mark has set foot in America. He didn't go back to visit at all,
the past 5 years. He doesn't know what's changed about his neighbourhood,
doesn't know what's been going on at home, doesn't know anything. He's been
emotionless and empty for the past half a decade, and Mark would be lying if he
said he didn't miss California. Brazil was beautiful, yes, but there was
something about California, about home that made Mark eager to return.
 
Jackson might have been one of those reasons.
 
He doesn't allow himself to think of Jackson. The boy was out of his mind,
forcefully, but he was never out of his heart. It still pained Mark whenever he
saw couples together, happily chatting and holding each other's hands that he
thinks that he could have had that with Jackson. The heartache isn't worth it;
Jackson might have moved on by now, for all he knew. Mark had 'cheated on'
Jackson, so Jackson was free to be with anyone he wanted.
 
Not like Mark. Not like Mark who had never allowed himself to forget Jackson.
When he was conscious, he didn't allow himself any thoughts of Jackson for the
fear of being distracted and wallowing in his misery. He missed Jackson, more
than he'd ever thought was humanly possible to miss someone, but here he was,
missing Jackson so much it hurt physically sometimes, that it made him want to
throw up. 
 
Was it possible to be literally lovesick?
 
He'd only informed Jinyoung of his return - and his family, of course, but they
were by default - so he expects, perhaps, Jinyoung and maybe Jaebum to be
waiting for him at the arrival terminal of the airport. It's been a long 5
years, and he's eager to see how his friends have changed, even though he'd
never really given them a chance to keep in contact until that call he'd
accidentally dialed approximately 3 years ago. 
 
He sulks a little when he realizes that neither Jinyoung nor Jaebum are
anywhere to be found, when there is a hand placed on his left shoulder. He
spins around, ready to pout at Jinyoung for leaving him hanging when he
realizes that, number one, that isn't Park Jinyoung, number two, he's really
attractive, and number three, he's-
 
"Jackson?"
 
Jackson's staring at him with his piercing gaze, the same as the one from so
long ago, and Mark has to actively remember how to breathe lest he suffocate on
the spot. This is not Jackson Wang, 17 year old teenager that Mark had left
heartbroken with no way of telling him how to contact him, never having been
him nor said goodbye. This is Jackson Wang, 22 years old, more mature, having
filled out and lost all his baby fat, looking more attractive and more
masculine than Mark had ever seen him.
 
"Hello, Mark," He's greeted by the Jackson, and Mark wants to cry, wants to
laugh, wants to melt into Jackson's arms even though Mark is the 32 year old
here. He should not be shaking, his bottom lip should not be trembling, but it
hurts too much and he wants, he wants Jackson back. 
 
Mark remembers to breathe, and he smiles shakily, hesitantly, as though afraid
that if he smiled too wide or too bright Jackson would take it to mean that he
wasn't sincere and leave, leave Mark the way he had spun on his heels and to
the elevator when Mark had had to break him so many years ago. "Hey."
 
Jackson returns the smile, and it's sad, yes, but it's filled with so many
promises that Mark can't help but fling himself at Jackson and bury his face
into the other's shoulder, uncontrollable sobs wracking through his slim frame.
Mark thinks he's cried enough for the rest of his life, but that thought is
abruptly pushed out of his mind when Jackson holds him close, so close Mark
thinks he might be able to sink into the warmth ocean that is Jackson and never
leave.
 
"Welcome home, Mark."
 
===============================================================================
"Don't you dare ever do that to me again," Jackson says, lying on his bed next
to Mark in his apartment. He'd rented it the moment he'd turned 18, with what
little money he had from saving up from his summer jobs. He couldn't live with
his parents anymore, not when he'd found out from Mr. Park - or Jinyoung, as
the other had made him call him the moment he graduated - that his father was
the one who had driven Mark away. "I don't care what my parents say, or what
anyone else says, you're mine and I'm yours."
 
"Okay," Mark replies from where he's lying with his face in Jackson's neck,
holding him tight. "Okay."
 
"I don't trust you," Is what he hears next, and Mark shoots up so fast he
almost smashes his head against Jackson's chin, but manages not to. Jackson
gives him a look and sighs. "I don't. I love you, Mark, I really do. But what
you did with Jinyoung was painful, and I honestly don't trust you. Not
anymore."
 
It makes sense to Mark, but he can't deny that it hurts. He inhales deeply,
nodding his understanding. "I understand," Is all he says in response to that.
After a moment, he continues. "I'll earn it back, though. Your trust."
 
Jackson smiles, and leans in to kiss Mark.
 
===============================================================================
9 months later, Mark moves into Jackson's apartment. Officially, at least.
Jinyoung says it's about time and sends them a box of condoms while Jaebum does
nothing to stop his lover and continues grinning like the asshole he is. They
swap Jackson's single bed out for a king sized one, and while neither of them
are really fitful sleepers (Even though they both say that each other snores
too loudly for them to be able to sleep normally) Jackson somehow ends up on
the floor sometime during the night.
 
Mark wakes up to see Jackson on the ground, groaning in pain, and laughs. "Are
you okay?" He asks, stretching his hand out to Jackson, still laughing about
his lover's plight.
 
There is a flash of recognition in both their eyes, and Jackson grins despite
the pain. "No one asked for your help," He shoots back, but he takes Mark's
hand all the same, letting his lover pull him up. "I love you."
 
"Yeah," Mark replies, his grin so wide and bright that it leaves Jackson
breathless. "I love you, too."
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
(A month later, they attend Arcadia's alumni dinner. They meet up with Jaebum
and Jinyoung, who are wrapped around each other but seem to be staring at one
person in particular. Said blushing victim of their twin gazes, according to
Jackson, is Choi Youngjae, who is the same age as Jackson, 12 and 11 years
younger than Jaebum and Jinyoung respectively. Jackson and Mark exchange
glances, then grin simultaneously, Mark pushing Jaebum and Jinyoung forward
while Jackson pulls Youngjae towards the couple.)
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