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“You can trust me, you know. I know it’s not easy to talk about, things like that….But I’d never do that to you, you know? I mean tell Jimin…” Jeno trails off, waiting for the reaction that he knows will still his beating heart.
“Mhmm. Yeah. Sure.”
Wrong answer. Before he knows - or even realises - the corners of his mouth pull down, a pout fast forming on his lips.
With a grunt, Jeno is pulling himself up from the couch, struggling to get a better view of the boy, who’s draped over his study desk, smudged pencil marks on his elbow and near the spot on his chin. Here, on his couch, he’s got a front row view of the boy, an unobstructed view of his friend.
He’s noticed the new hair cut, back tapered down and sideburns ending slightly below his ears. It’s boyish, and suits him to the tee, but Jeno doesn’t miss the way he’s filled out, shoulders broader and chest more defined. There's a certain confidence in his stance, as if he's grown into his own skin. Then he thinks of his sister, soft around the edges, awkward but confident. Funny and kind. Everything I’m not.
“Mark…” He tries again. The sound of Mark’s name is sweet on his lips, but leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, the kind you get after reading an open ending of a really good book - leaving anything and everything up to imagination.
Allowing his gaze to finally wander and linger to his face, he sees now the small smile that’s playing at Mark’s lips, hears the soft pencil scratches on the sketchbook. In that moment, the room is so quiet, Jeno wonders if Mark can hear his traitorous, beating heart, wonders if he can hear his thoughts, the way he’s always been able to read Jeno better than anyone else.
“Mark… Are you even listening to me? I know we don’t talk about this, but I’m trying to be serious here.”
Something in Jeno’s voice gets his attention because Mark drops his pen, and snaps up to look at Jeno. When their eyes meet, Jeno has to fight the gasp that threatens to escape, his feelings bubbling over in a pot left on stove for too long.
This - of course - doesn’t go unnoticed, and Mark’s smile grows into a full blown grin, as if he was aware of every single thought that’s just crossed Jeno’s mind.
“Yes Jen I’m listening. Go on.” He nudges his chin in Jeno’s direction, encouraging.
Jeno hates this. He hates the effect his best friend has on him, hates how even in this moment, Mark is gentle, soft and attentive. Even in this moment, his teasing smile is a balm to Jeno’s nerves, his eyes playful but reassuring. I’m listening.
“Does it make you that happy? That you have my permission? I mean I knew you liked her, but I didn’t know how deep that ran. Oh my god, have I been in your way? All those times, you’ve come over asking for… Wait, you know you don’t need my permission do you? I just want you to be happy. Both of you. And you two, you’d be perfect for each other.” Jeno has to pause to take a breath, a fumbling mess after the monologue he’s just delivered, heart aching in the way lovers yearn.
There’s an awkward pause before the silence is broken by Mark’s infectious laughter, the unstoppable, tear-inducing kind. Jeno’s always loved that about him - the way he lets go and feels so freely and generously.
For the first time, Mark’s laughter isn’t a seed that plants warmth in his tummy. It feeds a weed of poison, and self doubt.
Jeno frowns. “What? What’s so funny. Stop that. Mark, I’m serious.”
“Oh, Jen, You’re just a big idiot aren’t you?”
Jeno’s frown deepens. “No I’m not. You don’t think I’ve noticed the number of times you’ve made excuses to come over to our house this year? I may be stupid, but I’m not blind, Mark.”
Then, Mark stops laughing.
“Jen. Jeno.”
“Huh?”
It’s then that Mark’s rising from his chair, taking two steps to close the distance between the two. Up close, he can see the browns of Mark’s eyes, impossibly fond, damp from laughing so hard.
A second, and another. Jeno’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe. Tick, tock. Jeno’s eyes flicker down to his lips. Tick-
And Mark is surging forward to kiss Jeno, close mouthed at first, nothing but a gentle pressure on his lips. Oh.
Oh. In his surprise - his absolute shock, Jeno has to pat himself on the back that he doesn’t start crying immediately, and is even proud to declare he molds himself to Mark’s kiss, pressing even closer, softly. He’s pretty damn sure Mark can hear his heart now, with no distance between the two - because he hears Mark’s, feels the racing pulse on his wrist.
Oh. Yeah, I guess I was the idiot after all.