Chapter Text
Before Mark's twentieth birthday, they kind of celebrated it in private.
The thing is that no one actually calls it a celebration just for Mark, because with his record, he is likely to get embarrassed and end up feeling cornered instead of enjoying himself. But everyone knows what it is without calling it such, and Mark lets loose, to the point that he gets shit drunk and throws himself in every lap in sight for as many hugs and cuddles as possible.
Johnny believes it to be his way of satisfying the need of a touch starved brain, a lot of it all at once and usually in an inebriated state so that the next day he can pretend he doesn't remember any of it, and then he can go on without it for a while, letting the itch to just cling and hold on to people build up all over again.
Hours later, when the guys start bowing out to get some sleep, Mark stumbles his way towards the balcony and doesn't come back. He helps Taeil carry a passed out Haechan to his room and then follows Mark, slipping out after making sure he is not needed. There's only Jaehyun and Doyoung still perched on the couch, talking in hushed whispers, heads bent closer and Johnny doesn't think they will miss him.
He isn't in the mood to talk, and he doesn't need to because Mark does enough of it for both of them. He's dragged down on the floor with excessive force and he topples over the smaller frame beside him, almost squishing the younger one.
Mark laughs, the way drunk people do, uncontrollable and too loud, grabby hands and heavy head on the nearest hard surface, which happens to be Johnny's shoulder in this case.
"What were you doing here, dude?"
That's enough encouragement, he thinks and then he just waits. And as always, Mark doesn't disappoint. He starts, stringing slurred words together, nonsensical at first but when you take a closer look, there's a meaning behind it.
"I was thinking, um, you wanna know? yooo, I was reading..."
Johnny doesn't remember all of it later, when he thinks back on it. But he retains enough of it, the gist of the rambling and random facts, personal thoughts and the lack of any real conclusion.
Mark was watching the sky. The moon and the stars. The stars, millions, billions of light-years away and we are still seeing them, but are we, Johnny? We are seeing them from the past. Or we are watching their past. Not them in present. Maybe they don't even exist anymore, exploding into dust. And hyung, did you know? We are all made from dead stars, we are all just stardust.
-•-
He decides to drive them to the cafe himself, shaking his head at his manager discreetly when he turns to looks at him from over the head of the other two putting on their shoes, chattering about this new place they have been hearing a lot about lately.
"New place to celebrate new year baby." Ten crows, huge grin still plastered on his face, not quite ready to disappear since the moment he saw them today, lighting up when his gaze fell on them huddled together with Mark's notebook, overflowing with lyrics and ideas in progression.
He had snatched it right away, placing it on the table and diving in between them for some long overdue cuddles, pulling them both in his arms tightly.
“My babies,” he sighed dramatically. “I haven’t seen you both since forever.”
“Uh, we like saw each other two days ago?” Mark said, wheezing, “Hyung, yo I can’t breathe let go.”
-•-
Now they are about to go out, the three of them, just the way they used to. Past tense. Because it is history now, and they are going out to reminisce the past that they all share. A connection that was forged, regardless of where they will be and how they will remember it years from now.
How they remember it, even now.
So now, Johnny might be regretting coming up with this idea.
He wonders sometimes; when they are together like this and don't precisely fit how they used to, when the space in which they stand together not appearing as it was once upon a time; if it feels different for all of them now, if each of them look back on what used to be and see things in their own separate perspectives.
"It's normal," Taeyong comforted him, when Johnny mentions it to him in the kitchen one morning, a few weeks before he and Mark have to leave to debut one more time.
"I mean, it's not the first time, right? We have all seen each other change a lot throughout the years already." He said, a haunted sheen in his eyes that Johnny wished he could erase, but in the end, they all had to carry their own scars and live with it.
He had chuckled then, pulling himself out of the dark abyss, grinning at him, small and genuine. "You have changed the most, right? You know, when you came back and later too, we used to joke that Youngho and Johnny are so different."
"That is true for all of us though." he pointed out, suddenly ready to drop the conversation.
Taeyong shook his head, as he plated the omelet, "I'm not talking about the stage persona," he smiled at Johnny.
"I wonder, who are you now?" Taeyong glanced away, suddenly timid now that he had nothing to do.
"Both." Johnny had assured, voice soft and sleepy still. He patted the other man's waist, yanking him down to sit with him.
But he wasn't actually that sure himself. He started living that double life quite early once he got accepted in SM. It was two parallel worlds, from Northbrook to the company building. He stubbornly kept his foot lodged in both, not ready to let go of either, and yet he went extra miles to keep these two worlds from colliding either.
He learned how to be a celebrity, an idol in the practice rooms of South Korea's most famous entertainment company but he grew up to be the person that he is, and had his lessons in dealing with life and people in the typical American public schools.
Taeyong was quite correct in his assessment, that he in fact did change a lot every year he came back to continue his training and firmly shut down any discourse that lead to him quitting his studies back in Northbrook just to finish his training quicker and debut, at least till his final year when he gave in, for a very short time period before he came back to his senses.
That also meant that things were never how he left them, whenever he would return. He joins in when TVXQ is the craze of the fangirls and gets to analyze the first group that started becoming a huge deal outside of Korea closely.
Super Junior are the newly debuted stars, he catches them in passing the most. He sits in to watch their practice with other new trainees sometimes. Most importantly, he misses his parents, and tends to cry to his absolute mortification. But he has Sehun at least, to make him realize it's normal. Sehun cries a lot too, and his parents aren't living all the way across the sea. That strangely comforts him more than anything else.
He leaves along with summer, goes back home and studies, focuses on scoring well. He was always fairly well liked, but his circle of friends expands once he joins the choir, starts singing with the acapella group at events and he confidently tells anyone who is curious about what he has been up to in Korea that he is in fact a model in training. He holds their gazes while he kind of lies, and from there onwards he learns how to say things with a straight face even if they aren't exactly true.
He's not sure how many of his friends and acquaintances believe him, but he definitely starts getting more dates and phone numbers stuffed in his locker.
When he is back in the practice rooms, a new group debuts. The youngest member is only two years older than him and he is the best friend of Sehun's best friend, or that’s what he was told.
“We can have more than one person we care about.” Sehun said to him one day out of nowhere.
Johnny nods sagely in agreement, because isn't that a well known fact? Sehun takes it as him being patronizing instead.
“I’m very serious, this is not a joke.” Sehun's face was set in his usual frown that makes him appear as if he is furious at the world. It's hard not to take him seriously even when he is joking. But that’s just his face. Johnny gets the struggle, being told that he needs to work on his own facial expressions quite early on. Apparently his neutral face says he's plotting a homicide.
“Look it’s the giant monster, I'm shaking.” An older trainee sneered, making everyone laugh. Johnny shut the door of the practice room harshly, dropping his bag near the wall mirror. “He will get us all in sleep, I'm telling you.
He twisted around, gathering his long hair to tie it all up. The heat is unbearable this summer.
Johnny is taller again, and also gaining more confidence in his ability to do everything. He is not the best, but he gives his best. The male trainees don't see a cute, dazed kid when their eyes take him in, and some of them have not been dealing with it gracefully.
“Sleep with your eyes open.” Johnny says casually, “If you close your eyes and wake up to me standing by your bed, well.” He clucks his teeth with a headshake.
-•-
That trainee leaves the company before Johnny goes back to attend a new school year, and he starts getting weirded out looks thrown his way, queasy glances exchanged when he comes around.
Johnny can’t do anything but roll his eyes.
-•-
He doesn't cry anymore. A few trainees indicate how he could be debuting in the next group. Johnny doesn't agree necessarily, not because he is humble but simply due to the fact that he isn't ready.
He becomes quite close to the female trainees he met last summer and they have even more friends this time around who all find him adorable. He can easily tell which ones think that in a very brotherly, platonic way and how there are some who eye him a little differently.
Regardless of it, he treats them all warmly, keeps their interactions light and fun. He behaves with them as if they are friends from back home, minus the crass language and more physical distance implemented, it works.
He focuses on his training with the single-minded intensity that he experiences when he finds himself obsessed with something, that's what he comes here to do after all.
By the time he is in high school; where he is easily counted as one of the fairly known guys, tall and nice, cute and has a nice smile, is what he gets the most; he is also one of the most popular trainees in SM and definitely the favorite amongst the female trainees, which means he gets either envied by the guys or they want to stick closer to him for obvious reasons.
When it is time for another group to debut, Johnny's name gets thrown around a lot. There is a new wave of trainees entering the building every day. His transfer to this new school isn’t working out, things are rapidly altering and Johnny doesn’t want to be swept away in all of this without having made even a single decision for himself. So it’s important for him to watch, and observe. To plan, and work out something with the least damage done but a more favorable outcome.
It's time for him to make a few choices then.
-•-
After a brief experience of high school in Korea which is the standard for trainees, he puts his foot down, and insists on finishing his education in the States, as he had always imagined that he would.
He has already met Taeyong and Mark, with extremely mixed and contrasting feelings towards them. There are more young talented guys joining the roaster. He meets a quiet guy from Japan, who is the same age as him. They have Korean classes together. He is pretty.
After a while, everyone comes to realize that he was so quiet only because he didn't understand anyone well. The guy is actually very mouthy, but within boundaries. Johnny thinks that’s cute.
Johnny is also expected to debut, be that senior the new trainees hung out with before he goes on to be an idol, juggling school work while not attending classes and an active career as a rookie in the industry. Just like a hyung he briefly met before he debuted, and then they never got the time to hang out even though he would have loved to.
"You could debut, it's the perfect time. If you start early, you would be an established veteran in your mid-twenties." The executives reasoned with him, all of them trying to pleasantly glare him into submission.
"I would like to finish my high school education like any other American my age though; and graduate normally, even if it means I get to have a career later than my peers here in Korea." He counters, staring them all down with a measured, empty expression. He has accepted that he might become the cause of some major changes in future plans for the company. He mentally shrugs.
Not his problem. Not yet.
A few years later, he actually gets to witness how his one decision affected many people around him. Sometimes, he is thankful. Then there are those times when he just has to live with.
He goes back home for the last time, not knowing when he would return.
Maybe next year, because he really just ditched the only chance he had to debut and now the company is filled with too many dreams and ambitions, all passionate and driven to get what they want. But they are more docile and obedient, less likely to say no as frequently as he does, more likely to do what they are told without persistent attempts at starting negotiation to strike up a deal for their own interests.
Or maybe a decade later, because he will end up in some group that doesn't make it out of Korea and his contract wouldn't let him come back here for even a break.
There are so many possibilities. He will bee to it when it happens, but there are already building blocks of a few plans forming at that back of his head even as he throws himself into studies and the whole experience of just being a normal millennial kid, perhaps a bit better looking than most but you would never catch him saying so loudly. He hears it a lot from others as it is.
So he lives that American high schooler life, slipping out of his grip like fine sand he can't hold on to. He loses his virginity to the girl he dated briefly, attends every party he can, drinks and smokes to his heart's content, listens to his friends grouse about part-time jobs and university hunting as if he can relate, gets high every weekend, makes out with a few boys because why the hell not, goes to the prom with a beautiful girl and eats out everyday, mostly junk food because well, who knows when he will get to savor the same taste again. It's nothing special, or better but it's familiar and he will miss it.
He doesn't tell anyone that he will be banned from doing all of these, except maybe sneakily drinking here and there, soon enough. As soon as possible, if he is lucky.
On a Sunday, he wakes up early in the morning to a horribly rough and alarming noise, as if the world is splintering apart. A few loud bangs against the window pane makes him jump, and he gets out of the bed. A hailstorm, he realizes, shuddering from the top his head to his feet, padding forward to discern the impact of it outside.
There are uncountable glowing, spherical pieces of ice hitting the grey pavement continuously, bouncing up and hurdling away instead of shattering. He imagines standing out there in the middle of the road right now, and the thought of it leaves him with chilled bones and an odd memory to go with it.
He thinks of the practice rooms back in Korea, of Mark standing by the windows staring out.
There are polaroids in his bag that he never took out, though perhaps he should.
-•-
After that, it still takes four years and he sees how there are people who have trained for just that long or even less debuting and they are doing it before him. He goes through a brief period of relentless brooding that keeps everyone on edge after that.
Hansol quits, and he wonders if they expect it from him too. If all of this dragging and uncertainty being pushed his way is some form of punishment, or a straight up indication that the company has no idea where to fit him and what to do with him.
He could pack his bags up, and just disappear and it actually wouldn't matter, because there are so many of them to push and shove till they eventually conform in whatever space they are allotted. Just the way the company isn't bothered that one of their older trainees bailed on them, just the way artists sue and leave but business goes on as usual. In the end, none of it matters.
It angers him, leaving him a seething mess, but he deals with it quietly and waits. There are trainees who live with him, look up to him and he had seen them entering the company years after he did, and they are debuting before he does, some not even once but twice. He had expected it to some extent, when he chose to go back to the States, even though the company was reluctant but he had not thought it would make him this upset.
“Are you angry because you aren’t debuting yet, or many of us are doing it without you?” Jaehyun had asked what no one else dared to.
Many, when it is more like everyone he knows and has some type of connection with. It wasn't even about being left behind, but the pride he had which was taking huge hits every time they announced a unit without him. He knew the members would get repeated, and there are chances that he will be in a unit with these people eventually, but it still left him feeling hollow.
“I don't know. I'm just fed up, is all. But don't worry, I won't quit. If they want me to hang off their necks for ten more years I'll do it.” Johnny got up, ready to leave the practice room, trying not to feel like the odd one out. There wasn't one person in the room that hadn't debuted at least once, twice or was about to debut for the third time very soon. Except him. “Either they debut me or their necks break.”
“Youngho—” Taeyong called out when he started stomping out hurriedly, “I am so—"
“Don't say sorry to me, ” Johnny bit out lowly, turning back to look at the man he sees as his friend now, and then at everyone else. They all flinch back to some degree, and then there is Mark who doesn’t even move. He hasn’t even looked up once, head buried in his knees. Maybe he fell asleep, finally fatigued from having to work three times harder than everyone else.
Johnny can't relate whatsoever, since he isn’t in any of those units.
“I don't need it, so let's not. Feel sorry for the work you have to do, ” he added quietly while walking out of the door, “You need to practice. Do that instead.”
-•-
It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the last time he goes back to Korea, for the long haul this time around, for better or worse, he is the most changed version of himself.
Everyone notices, to some degree depending on how much they have to see him, be with him for practice and lessons. A newly graduated Johnny, more determined and ambitious than he ever was, towering over every person physically and mentally, is quite a lot to take in for everyone.
"I refuse to believe that you don't realize it," Doyoung accuses him, gaze narrowed, always so sharp and judgmental. "You have such a fucking oppressive aura, I have no idea how all the seniors got fooled, calling you cute and baby and shit. You probably used to hide it better before."
Johnny could get furious, and then pass it off as mild irritation, it's not that uncommon for him now. Instead, he cracks up, almost tumbling back and hitting his head against the mirror from the force of it. There aren't that many people you'd find in Korea who don't mince their words. Doyoung brings something new here for sure, and it enchants Johnny.
It's different than how Ten gets under his skin, and on his nerves.
He gets up, ready to leave the practice room. Doyoung would obviously want to stay back and belt out the same few notes again and again till his throat is raw.
Johnny smirks, "So, am I your type?" he sing-songs, satisfied when Doyoung freezes, "Do you wanna bang? I won't mind."
He drops another bomb and studies the explosion closely, to discern in which direction this can go and how far he can take it. Johnny wouldn’t mind hopping in on it for a while if it matches his interests.
Doyoung splutters, mouth opening and closing shut, "Wha.. t?"
"Am I the only one feeling all this sexual tension?" he presses on, bending down, hovering over the other boy's petrified frame. He doesn't miss the way Doyoung checks him out, eyelashes fluttering as his gaze roams all over Johnny's sweaty, glowing body under the dim lighting.
He lets the silence build, studies the way the younger boy squirmed under his attention, not exactly pulling away in disgust for someone who sounds as vicious as he does when he goes on lengthy rants about Johnny being a suspicious, shady bastard.
Johnny knows better though, he knows why and perhaps, someone else in his place would have been reluctant to bring it out in the open but he has no such qualms. If nothing else, he get's some entertainment out of this. If it's something more, well then.
He decides that he has made a point, and suddenly hauls his body away from the other boy's personal space, chucking softly.
"Relax, I'm joking. Let's not take ourselves too seriously, you can continue now. I'll leave first." He says lightly, pushing his hair away from his face before he turns away.
"But you know what? stop trying to convince Yuta I am going to smother you all in sleep and hack your bank accounts next time you feel frustrated at me." He says over his shoulder lightly but his eyes are narrowed.
"Just come to me, I'll fuck all that pent up negativity out of you." He leaves without waiting for a reply.
Over the years, that one interaction changed their dynamics in the long run, perhaps for the worse till they are almost two years into being colleagues.
With their history of falling into bed occasionally out of absolute, unadulterated annoyance at each other, it's hilarious how at present they end up together in quiet hours at random times, seeking each other out just for Doyoung to use him as an enormous pillow to cuddle at most, whispering about how much he hates, well everything.
"You mean how much you hate everything related to your crush." Johnny corrects him, mid-rant, sipping on his coffee primly. “How very typical of you.”
"Hyung, please be quiet, and I did not have crush on you”
Hands around his arms become tighter, and Doyoung pouts, "Listen to me first, now.”
"No, but am I the only one seeing a pattern here? I know what's going to happen next. Just know you'll have to be the one to take the initiative this time around." He smacks his lips, thinking about Taeyong, always walking on the edge of the shores, vigilant, too cautious. For good reasons.
"Hyung." Doyoung whines, frowning up at him. "It's not like that."
Johnny cocks an eyebrow up at him, "Like that? Why do you make it sound so— Oh, wow I am hurt, how dare you degrade what we had." He says, acting scandalized for the effect. "Those are precious memories to me."
Doyoung stares at him, blinking in disbelief. But he can tell that the other man is also reminiscing back on it. He imagines what memories are coming back to him now that they are talking about it.
Maybe the first time back when they were still trainees, Johnny dominating every interaction between them, even in bed. They ended up sharing a room later, and it was oh, so convenient, for a while at least.
Or the last time, when Doyoung had learnt to push back and attack, words and actions both lethal about the most trivial matters, and yet he would clam up when things blew over and went out of hand, which just left Johnny seething and unapproachable.
He had pulled the younger man down on his cock, worrying the skin below his nape between his teeth, "We could be best of friends, you know. We really could be. But you have to hate on me, like it's some kind of compulsion. And for what, huh? being myself?"
He had rolled them around without pulling out and pressed the boy down harshly under his weight, unusually quiet as he fucked him for the next forty minutes in complete silence, edging him again and again.
Doyoung was in tears by the end, and not of the kind that comes just due to pleasure. For the first time, he wouldn't let him go either. So Johnny pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his slight frame.
"Let's stop," he had whispered, petting Doyoung's inky black hair. "Okay? Let's not do this anymore."
"Hyung." Doyoung whispered, so broken. He shook his head, and hot tears spilled on Johnny's chest. "I don't— Hyung, I don't hate you. Never did. I am sorry."
He sniffled, always such a baby when he got upset, "You were so intimidating. And cool. I didn't know how to tell you that I want to be friends? And — "
Johnny had not seen that coming for sure but he waits for him to continue.
"And he looked up to you so much, I was kind of jealous."
Johnny blinks, "Who?" He asks, but he gets his answer in the silence that follows. Oh?
"Oh?" He exclaims, as everything slots into place. "Oh fuck--" He says, reverting back to his first language due to how stunned he is. "I— Wow, I feel like shit now. So it's that serious, huh?"
Doyoung shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But, still,” He sighs, rubbing his face. "For what's its worth. He doesn't like me like that. We just did what you and I have been doing, only a few times. You don't like me like that. I don't like either of you like that either. I am removing myself from this equation."
Monogamy is an absurd concept, for sure. But he can't be too judgmental, and enforce his own views here because this is about his friends.
Well, a friend he slept with and another kind of, maybe a friend he has been fucking regularly, too be more specific.
"I am aware, thanks."
"You are?" He pouts, suddenly affronted, "Then why are you so mean to me? You could have told me since the start, you know. I would have helped you." He can't help sounding a little petulant as Doyoung pats his chest soothingly for a while before he falls asleep, and it's nice. For a change.
Maybe if they changed up a few things, they can be good together. As much as he enjoys fucking in general, Doyoung is a great person to have by your side even without that incentive. Or so Taeyong says. Doyoung starts sobbing when Johnny tells him about that, but he couldn’t deduce in the end if it was because to happiness or devastation.
What he can say with conviction is that their leader was right about Doyoung, because Johnny gets to experience it too, in the coming years. You can't go wrong with having someone made of so much substance and viciousness backing you up, unless he turns against you.
So Johnny keeps the other boy close, and held by the neck. No one can ever tell if it's there out of love or a reminder that he can snap it very easily if he wanted to.
-•-
"It's different," Doyoung says now, "Not better. It's just .."
"Not the same." Johnny finishes for him instead because that's the plot of at least a thousand and one cliché stories about love triangles and unrequited feelings. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have the slightest interest in being the second lead of anyone's love life.
Doyoung agrees, nodding his head. He stares at him from the corner of an eye, "You're Johnny hyung though. No one can take your place." And that's probably the closest to an admission of love he will ever get. As generous as he is with sharp words, Doyoung is the worst at wording genuine emotions.
"That's adorable, honey. I love you too." He says solemnly.
He doesn't miss the small, knowing smile pulling reluctantly on Doyoung's face, dissolving his sharp features into something soft.
"Ah, hyung. I know there are people you can't say it to either, right?" Doyoung presses, leaning in closer to stare at his face.
"I don't know what you are talking about." He says quickly, any attempt to not sound defensive going down the drain right away.
"Oh, you do. You aren't that oblivious for sure. You just keep your eyes closed in the face of things… shifting. You're worse than me." Doyoung yawns loudly, getting up from the couch.
"Still don't know what nonsense are going on about."
"You do, and that's some delicate territory everyone is sensitive about,” Doyoung says, pointing at him, “You're being watched.”
“Shut up.” Johnny frowns, “ aren't you getting a little too mouthy with me?”
Doyoung's wary expression melts into something sheepish, and he grins like there is a knife on his throat.
“Right.” He squeaks out, nodding his head as he backs away. “Goodnight, Hyung."
-•-
Change has been a constant in their lives, so he is not sure why it makes him so cautious now.
-•-
"It's not a bad thing, right? It's just different," Jaehyun told him, the nature of solace that he offered awfully distinct from the rest, flashing his dimples in a sympathetic smile when they had gotten drunk together the last time, "but it's still here. We all are here, together in this. That's what matters, right? No matter how much things change or how much we change, we just need to stick together."
He patted Johnny's chest lightly, before he dozed off, just like the angel Johnny always trusts him to be, ready to fill every narrative with optimism and positivity. They never really vibed on a personal level, so distinct and removed from each other's way of perceiving life. But then there's a unique charm to it, having such a connection in life, never quite on the same path but still closely parallel enough for them to be close without any feathers ruffled.
Meanwhile, half of his conscience is cursed to sound like Ten forever, which he laments frequently about in his own head. He is, quite literally the devil on his other shoulder, always was, and recently, Johnny is struggling with the realization that it will always be the case.
Which brings him back to his current predicament.
-•-
Johnny catches himself getting lost in the past way too frequently these days, now that time moves like lightning for all of them and they are left to flounder, running along with the passing minutes and days, attempting to fit in whatever they can in these moments.
Ten throws him a sharp look when he catches him standing near the door, just studying them both pensively. He raises an eyebrow, smirking lightly before he moves his attention back to the youngest. Ten carefully pushes Mark's messy bangs away from his forehead now, pulling his beanie down some more before he pats his cheeks lovingly, cooing at him.
Mark giggles nervously, but there is no protest whatsoever in sight, not a peep to be heard, a far cry from years ago when he would have had a lot to say about how he isn't a baby and they shouldn't treat him as such.
He sighs, turning away. "Come on then, can't miss the reservation." He says, as he opens the door, closing it behind him after the other two walk out first.
"Oiiii— dude you booked us a table already? Thought we were just gonna like— swing it." Mark says, staring up at him as he settles back against the mirror in the elevator, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, dark wide eyes gleaming under the low golden lights.
"That was— um, quick?" Mark breaks the eye contact first, a short laugh leaving him. "You know, I thought it's supposed to be like, mad crowded recently." He goes on, eyes trailing back and forth between him and Ten now.
Johnny concentrates on the floor numbers flashing beside him instead, "You know me," he drawls, turning towards the door when it opens as they reach the underground parking area.
"He wouldn't get caught stepping a foot in some fancy place without reservation, Markie." Ten finishes it for him, swiftly. His tone hovering on the edge of slipping right into mocking, but not quite there. Not really, when it is a fact. And, the reservation was technically done almost a week ago, but Mark doesn’t know that.
Mark hums, body on autopilot as he goes for shotgun as always, hands freezing midway. His fingers do an awkward dance in the air before he brings them together in a tight fist, stuffing it in his hoodie pocket. He jerks away swiftly, opening the door of the back seat with the other hand instead and slips in with a clumsy turn.
Subtlety leaves with a headshake, appalled at the disrespect.
Ten studies Johnny from the other side of the car, his gaze razor-sharp, head tilting to the side as if he is trying to listen to what no one is saying.
"You know how he hates waiting, right?" Ten says instead, going back to the conversation from before, pretending that nothing is out of place. It's also blatant slander, because Johnny is extremely patient with things and people that actuallly deserve it, although he does admit that he tends to get slightly broody if he is made to wait unnecessarily. He just doesn't like wasting his time on things that are of no interest to him.
"Also, how paranoid he gets about new places, new things." Ten continues, following Mark to the back seat, gracefully sliding in right behind him.
Johnny roles his eyes, exhaling loudly before he rips the door of the driver seat open.
"Shut the fuck up?" He grumbles, as he gets in. "I am paying for dinner. Can't you two just be grateful?" He goes on, putting on his seat belt, hoping that he doesn't sound as moody as he is feeling.
“What? I’m just saying how you only want to give the best to your favorite people.” Ten defends himself, smirking lightly.
“Oh, really?” He bites out, not rebutting the casual statement, “How about saying ‘thank you' then, huh? Ever tried that?”
Mark leans in closer from the back seat, putting his whole weight on Johnny's seat, staring at his side profile intently, "Uh, thanks?" he mumbles, voice strangely meek, the shyness drips off the edges of his words, dampening the insides of Johnny's car in the unapologetic gut-churning awkwardness that Mark carries with him everywhere.
"Hyung, do you— I mean if you um, no I just think we can divide?— the bill I mean? We can pay too, right?"
Mark trails off, words almost overlapping in a hurry to get them all out in a sequence that actually made sense. His right hand climbs up the back of the driver's seat, settling on Johnny's neck, nails burrowing in warm flesh lightly.
Johnny grips the stirring wheel, a weak attempt at grounding himself. He jabs the key in ignition, gaze darting up in the rear view mirror. Ten has his head tilted down, the sides of his lips stretched up in that way that makes him look feline — a ferocious, nosy kitten.
Like you? You aren't any better.
He can almost hear it in his head, a murky memory buried in their past. They were fighting, or just arguing. Perhaps, back then he thought that they were. However, now that it is coming back to him, Ten did not sound indignant, words exasperated but fond nevertheless.
It is a morbid epiphany to have, on a weekend. Memories, the building blocks of our reality and they might not even be credible— contorted by old, forgotten streaks of emotions we don't feel anymore, leaving behind warped memories that can't be trusted. How pathetic, poor him and the rest of his kind.
Though, he wouldn't deny that Ten has never been the one with temperament issues, at least between the two of them. In fact, he possessed the equable serenity Johnny pretended to have at times, for arguably understandable reasons.
Ten hardly ever got angry at him, always understanding and perhaps, a little too charmed, he assumes.
No, it was he himself, back then, defensive and pissed off, squaring up in the face of any form of authority, snapping barbed words back at anyone who came too close to being an equal instead, neither above him but not ready to be below either.
In their company, Johnny is perceived in three ways; depending on the age, gender and professional seniority of the people who know him. He is the adorable, sweet younger brother to a group of people who will see him like that no matter how much he grows, to another he is the somewhat moody, silver tongued peer and senior who provokes an unknown terror in them without really doing anything. They don't like to see him without his sunshine smile plastered at all times, for sure.
Then there's the third kind, an open group where a few people enter cautiously every year and never leave. The people who know he's neither just a stable emotional support, giving hugs and comfort for free, nor is he a scheming, tricky mastermind plotting world domination, ready to step on everyone in the path towards his individual goals.
He is in fact, a quarter of both and half a normal boy who grew up dreaming about being famous, rich and still loved, many friends and more than friends to spoil because he genuinely enjoys the act of caring for people who look up to him. He also highly appreciates people who think about making him feel adored and cared for.
It's just that for him to accomplish all those things, he has to be a certain way, act differently around people depending on their stature and all aspects of the situation he is in. He doesn't think he is manipulative for that, because he is doing what has to be done, for him to live his life with the sweet pleasure of knowing that he didn't wait around for the highest form of satisfaction and contentment to come knocking on his door. He chased after it instead, doing whatever he can to get rid of the maddening starvation he still can't pinpoint the cause of but it makes his skin crawl and keeps him awake even when he is physically exhausted.
And possibly, he just really hates waiting, so there's that.
His heart topples over at the all-knowing, smugness being shoved in his face right now from the backseat, and there is this rare regret flowing through his veins, making home in the tips of his fingers, the clench of his jaw.
"Already called dibs on paying, Mark Lee. So I will be doing it." He says, not unkindly, reprimanding himself in his own head while he is at it, not ready to accept how rattled he is feeling.
"Now think about what you want to eat and relax, dude." He says, in general, to everyone present. Himself, specially.
"Do you want some music meanwhile, gentlemen?" He asks, plastering a cheerful expression on his face.
Ten hums, "How about some SuperM?" He laughs then, amused by how Mark refuses to look at either of them, coughing in embarrassment.
-•-
Mark's foot relentlessly taps against the back of his seat, completely unmatched with the heavy beats echoing in the enclosed space.
The hand on his neck stays, fingers tracing the slope that leads down to his shoulder.
He forgets about them mostly, perhaps too used to the restless, anxiety-ridden touches now, to properly tell the difference between them being there or not anymore.
Or.
Maybe he just doesn't mind. Maybe he even likes it.
Maybe.
-•-
They huddle closer, pushing their chairs on one side of the round table settled in a corner of the cafe; a cafe only in name as it sprawls across two floors, split up in four separate rooms. The attendant had guided them to the quietest one, most spacious with dim aurora lights hanging from the ceiling, low music, dark granite walls decorated with elegant, warm sceneries from around the world, and all of it reflects in the flooring underneath their feet, granting the whole place a distinctive aesthetic of delusive grandeur. All the tables are occupied, and yet they are set in a way that not much can be heard from around them except the light murmurs and clinking of spoons from time to time.
"Damn though, this is a cafe?" Mark murmurs, curiously looking around as he pushes his hair up, beanie clutched in his other hand.
"I'm impressed, hyung. It's such a pretty place.” Ten agreed, “Totally gonna come on a date here next time."
He snickers then, going through the menu with a lot of interest, and Johnny's thinks his eyeballs will fall out of the sockets with all the rolling he has been doing continuously since he saw him today.
Mark starts choking on nothing, which is not that unusual for him, all things considered. So Johnny pours him some water, slides the glass towards him and sincerely hopes that this burgeoning sense of impending disaster is only a paranoia induced delusion.
Johnny was under the impression that they had collectively decided not to make any unnecessary commentary, when they all chose to stay quiet as the attendant led them here, profusely apologizing for not being able to provide them with a better table, as they were already fully booked, she explained politely, and Johnny had called in to make changes at the very last minute, requesting for a table for three instead of just two like he had originally requested.
He knew where this will go, if he allowed it. And the thing is that generally he wouldn't mind, getting into a heated, friendly jabbing session with one of the few humans on the planet who have seen Johnny from a very protected, personal space that he guards like a primitive beast keeping his marked territory safe.
But then there is another one of those people, sitting to his right, focused on burying himself in the menu as if he can't read, even with his glasses sitting prettily on his scrunched up nose, lips twisted to the side.
Mark gives off the impression that he is trying to decode the hardest mystery of the universe when it's literally just fifty different types of pasta dishes at most.
Johnny sighs, grabbing the back of Ten's neck, squeezing it in a very friendly warning with a slight smile to go with it, "Weren't you seeing someone recently? How did that go?"
"Not well, seeing how I am here with you two obviously." Ten says loftily, "But you know, I never say no to opportunities."
Ten sneaks a glance at Mark, then turns to Johnny again "Unlike you, darling. When was the last time you dated?"
Johnny tugs at the long strands of hair at the back of Ten's head, staring at him steadily, not ready to step down, "Wasn't that long ago, it just fizzled out after we came back from the tour." He shrugs.
He then contemplates if he should say what he is about to, painfully amused at himself for being so cautious. It shouldn't be so hard, not between them.
But things aren't how they used to be, and the people on this table aren't either.
"You know I hate forcing it, just to make shit work out, either they naturally do or they don't." He spills it out, like a hot cup of bitter black coffee deliberately being pushed over. As always he waits for a reaction, people backing away, a pained yelp, a few curses and people dying to scream at him, but holding it back because it is an accident of course, he didn't really mean to.
Yet, people become watchful, cautious when he is around. No one ever wants to get scalded and worry about an ugly, stubborn stain on top of it and Johnny just happens to be so clumsy, no understanding of how much destruction he can cause. He can be hazardous and has no awareness of it at all, now does he?
He gets silence on his table, which doesn't surprise him either.
Someone lets out a scandalized gasp on the other side of the room though, so he will just pretend it's for him instead.
Ten has a lot to say, he can tell. He is struggling not to let some words escape by accident, as they both wouldn't want Mark to hear a few things, for their own personal reasons.
"How sexy of you, Hyung." Ten mutters but he gives in first for the time being, and pats his elbow, calling for a truce.
For now.
"What about you, Markie?" Ten starts, dropping one battle only to pick up another, more complex and tricky one instead. Johnny melts back in to his chair, staring up at the ceiling, envisioning how it would fall right on them and then they would escape the uncomfortable train-wreck of a mess incoming in the form of this next conversation.
"No wait," Johnny interrupts, impatience coloring his tone now. "We are going to order first." He declares, calling for a waiter quickly. He can stall like this for now, and then maybe he will run off to the washroom for a while if they continue talking about this.
They order in three dishes, and the waitress is almost about to leave when Johnny decides to order in one more, because why the fuck not. He can. He will be going to the gym later at night, an extra hour of work out is just fine with him.
And the more food to stuff their faces in, the less words they will have to use.
"So, four dishes for three people, Sir?" The waitress inquires with a smile, giving away her skepticism.
Johnny doesn't give a shit.
"Yes," He confirms, fingers tapping a calm beat on the table. "Oh, and forgo dairy please." He says, folding his legs, a small smile consciously pulled on his face.
"For everything?" She asks, looking around at all of them.
"Um," Mark peers up at him, eyes wide. He scratches the side of his neck, "bro— you don't need to, I mean, for real it's cool-" Johnny cuts him off before he can finish, tilting his head to the side.
"What?" Johnny asks, perfectly casual, a puzzled look in place for show.
"I am on a diet so," he trails off, turning his face to the other side, "gotta be careful. Tennie, do you mind?"
"Mn, not really." He shrugs, smiling at Mark.
Mark searches his face, nodding slowly but not quite convinced by the looks of it.
"Will that be all?" The waitress asks, still staring at Johnny. Perhaps, she sees how he is calling the shots, as she should because he is paying.
Or it could be that he just looks good.
He runs a hand through his hair, nodding with a polite smile.
"Oh, actually—Sorry, haha" Mark starts, before Johnny can say yes. He looks down at the menu, slapping his fingers in quick succession against Johnny's bicep, "Dude, there's risotto here, uh— we like, had it in New York. I mean Taemin hyung had it, but I tried it too, it's like cooked in this broth thingy, it tastes mad good. Um," he looks up, gaze jumping from one person to the other, all staring at him in various degrees of amusement, "so, can we get it?" He finishes, voice going a little high as blood rushes up his neck and cheeks in embarrassment. He clears his thought, clutching Johnny's arm tightly.
"It tastes so good, Johnny. For real." He mumbles, so earnestly that you would feel horrible to say no. It's good for the world that Mark just happens to be one of the kindest people on earth and he wouldn't misuse his bizarrely proficient convincing skills. Well, mostly anyway.
Johnny’s lips twitch, exasperation taking over his whole being, "Well, you heard him, please note it down."
The waitress smiles back, looking quite confused now, "Okay, so that would be five dishes for three people?" She asks, noting it down when Johnny nodes. "Will that be all then?"
"Yes, thank you." He says, setting away the menu.
Ten is reaching over him, to pinch Mark's cheeks. Or at least he attempts with a lot of patience of someone who keeps getting rejected. "So cute, my little baby." He makes exaggerated cooing noises and Mark pushes his hands away, mumbling about too much touching.
This, is familiar now. This is how they have always been. Even in Johnny's reasonably cynical mind, this is the fall back safe place. The nostalgia is building a castle in his heart, lounging on it's throne today.
He can almost imagine Jaehyun and Haechan tagging along too, maybe Yuta if he wasn't busy with extra language classes; a whole evening of petty snipping and scathing insults, Yuta dragging Mark through the mud for existing, Haechan sneakily attempting to climb on his lap, Ten being Mark's shield and Jaehyun very pointedly eating with his irenic little smile, not giving a shit about them till his belly is filled to the brim. It's easy to get swept away in it, even if just for a few spare moments after which they eventually have to come back to the reality of their present.
It's very homey. But he abhors that discourse a little too much, cringing at his own line of thought.
They rib Mark for a while, because them hanging out is never complete till Mark is red in the face with embarrassment, whining and ready to call the police on them. Johnny tells him he just didn't want to trouble the manager just in case Mark ends up with a bad stomach tonight. The younger one, who has never acknowledged his ongoing struggle with lactose intolerance just gapes at him, wounded and imploring. Johnny was expecting some form of protest, itching for it even and he can't help the sour taste trickling down his throat when it never comes.
“Don’t worry dude, he went home for the weekend.” Mark mumbles, rubbing the side of his face.
“Oh?” Johnny didn't know that surprisingly. He stares at Mark, who coughs loudly, but his hand is still on the older man's bicep.
He reaches out to flick at one of Mark's ridiculously defined cheekbones, a visible evidence of his maturity he staggered into quite gracelessly. Mark sneaks subtle glances at him, fingers sliding down from his arm to the rough, lax skin on his elbow, pinching it lightly.
"So, Mark Lee, seeing anyone lately?"
And there he goes, he cries out mentally. On the outside he doesn't even react.
He just wants to strangle Ten sometimes, he really does. The itch is extremely strong right now, but it would be of no use because he knows for a fact that Ten would actually enjoy it, and then goad him for some more.
"I see a lot of people on a daily basis, hyung."
"Ooh, so clever, baby. But no. Go on, don't be shy." Ten says, leaning in a little. "Tell me, tell me, maybe I can help?"
The youngest stalls, thumbing the beauty mark on the side of his face as if he can feel it is their, gaze fluttering around the cafe with too much interest for it to look casual. But god bless, he tries his best, as Mark always does.
"No one, like for real." He grunts, voice steady for someone who might actually be lying. "I don't— uh, haha —see people, hyung..um not — like that you know." He explains, or tries to, holding Ten's gaze for a few moments before he cracks a thin smile, ducking his head down, "I mean, I really don't think it's practical right now, yeah?"
How do you like to see people, then? He wants to ask suddenly, but chooses to be wise and stays mum.
Ten smirks, "Umhm, are you sure about not finding anyone of even a little bit of interest though?"
"Uh, I think so?" says Mark, too fast, refusing to meet Ten's searching gaze. He shifts in his chair, clearing his throat again, and if Johnny didn't know better he'd ask him about it.
Ten grins, chin placed on top of his palm, and it somewhat softens the shrewd, dangerous sheen in his eyes. He can be terrifying when he wants something from you and you don't hand it over to him on a platter right after his very first, harmless and sweet request.
It is basically an open invitation for Ten to go after you, no holds barred, and it always ends up being messy.
Johnny respects that.
Their relationship has a base rooted in their mutual interest in being ruthless to achieve whatever they want and being absolutely shameless, unapologetic about it.
In any other situation, he would back Ten up as always. He enjoys hot, explosive messes like any normal, healthy man would. But he is hunting on the edge of Johnny's territory, one wrong turn away from breaching and wrecking a havoc he is not in the mood to deal with.
They serve themselves when the food arrives, and he is shares bemused glances with the other two. That really is a lot, he thinks.
"Well, can't waste food so dig in, that's a lot to finish." He points his fork at Mark, who raises both his palms up, half drowned in the sleeves of his hoodie. Johnny moves his hand to point the fork at Ten, eyeing him up and down, "No talking." He orders, imperiously swishing the fork around like a sword. "Later."
"But John—"
"No, Tennie. We came here to eat. There's too much to eat. So eat. Now." He grinds it out, voice measured and low.
Ten stands his ground at first, but after a few stifling moments when Johnny keeps him pinned at the end of that look, he nods slowly and pulls his plate closer. They spend the next few minutes in restrained silence, stuffing their mouths.
Johnny's insides feel numb, he is swallowing it all down without really tasting any of it.
Ten feeds them both his spaghetti, a little too forceful when it comes to Johnny and he lets the man have his way there. Ten excuses himself to use the washroom, squeezing his thigh as he gets up and Johnny watches him saunter away. Back then, he would have followed maybe. Now, he twists his whole body to his other side and takes in the mess of the present.
Mark pauses in the middle of lifting his spoon, skittish gaze darting between Johnny and every other random spot in the room before he stares down at his own lap. The older man lifts his hand, making the other boy go rigid, body on verge of backing away at the sudden movement.
Mark does that a lot. Not necessarily with Johnny though, but it really has been one of those days, he reckons and lets it go.
Johnny hooks his fingers in the pocket of Mark's hoodie, dragging the boy towards himself, angling Mark in a way that they are facing each other. He dives in then, wrapping his mouth around the spoon that Mark was holding, pulling away with a hum.
"Hmn, not bad I guess." He nods, and tugs the dish Mark had asked for towards himself.
"Dude.."
"What?” Johnny widens his eyes innocently, “Didn't you order it for me?"
A prolonged moment of silence later, Johnny shrugs, not commenting on the way Mark's ears go red.
"And you should eat the other stuff, that won't make your stomach cramp later. We get it, you are into self-torture, you've made your point. You can stop now."
Mark groans, stuffing his mouth with more spaghetti, chewing away like a chipmunk with his mouth bloated.
"Are you okay though?" Johnny asks.
Mark frowns at him, raising his eyebrows up in curiosity.
"Um yeah? yo wait, no. It's you dude, you're acting mad weird today."
Johnny gives him a look, "Actually, I think you are projecting, Mark. You might want to look into it."
Mark shakes his head vehemently, "You're just— no I am pretty sure, you're being so off right now man. I am not seeing stuff. You're like, just distracting me again."
Johnny doesn't bother with a reply for a while, and directs all his attention on trying to finish all the food he is paying for.
"Maybe you just want it to be. Because really, what's so weird about the three of us going out like this?" He raises a brow, sucking on his spoon longer than necessary when Mark peeks up at him, hastily looking away after his gaze drops on Johnny's lips.
"I didn't mean it like that dude," Mark mumbles, his face all heated up now. "but yo, uh, thanks, for bringing me here. I really like the place."
Johnny shakes his head in disbelief, "That's the second time only today, and today is literally the first time you're thanking me for bringing you out to eat, in the last six years." Mark splutters, mouth falling open at the accusation.
"You stopped when you were like fifteen, bud." Mark frowns then, and he's probably trying to come up with anything from the past to refute his claim, but the older man knows had won’t find it.
Johnny heaves out a dramatic sigh, "That's horrible really, but why are you being so polite now, see I told you," he points a fork at Mark, "It's you, you're being a weirdo right now. Just eat your food."
Mark nods then, not saying anything and Johnny assumes that he might be lost in the past too, the look on his face is somewhere far away from here.
"Seriously though, it's weird only if you make it weird." He says, when he sees Ten coming back. He turns to the boy sitting beside him, his eyes soft. "Fix your face, Mark."
He watches the way the younger man's face shutters, curtains going down instantly because he's just that good at taking orders. Johnny nodes and drags his gaze away, to grin sweetly at Ten who studies them both suspiciously.
-•-
Ten hounds Mark on their way back about the whole seeing people thing and then gushes about Taemin and Jongin, which is so weird for Johnny, to say the least.
"Seriously though, all of them love Mark. Kai hyung said he'd marry him if he could."
"Yo, shut up." Mark yelps, turning to glare at Ten.
"He stares at him with so much love, watch out John hyung." Ten teases, laughing loudly when Mark finally attacks him, his complexion flushed even under the dull light. He yanks Ten's shoulder and shoves him away roughly, never shying away from physical retribution even if he would pull a muscle and then some over being showered with innocent, affectionate touches even from people he clearly adores.
"How cute," Johnny says, with a straight face while he shifts the gear, "But isn't Mark more into Yukhei, though."
"Dude, can you not—" Mark groans in a high pitched tone, “fucking Jeeesus, I hate you I really do right now.”
"Mark Lee,” Johnny admonishes him, clucking his show tongue, “show some respect to your favorite man."
Mark goes still abruptly, mouth falling open, " Y-you," he stammers, "You're not my favorite m-man???"
Johnny slows down when he sees the traffic light go red. He keeps his fixed on it, threading his fingers through his hair.
"I was talking about Jesus, actually." He informs Mark stoically, “and what do you mean? Is that an insult?”
A hush falls on them as the seconds skip by before the light turns green, and then there is the, "oh!" soft, almost inaudible.
Ten slaps a hand on his mouth, small giggles breaking out even though he tries not to laugh.
Mark deflates, curling on himself, pulling on his beanie with a whimper. He bends his head down, both arms around his head. "Alright then, I'm gonna—" he mumbles, "yeah, I'm jumping off this fucking car, don't mind me."
Ten doesn't bother with holding himself back, and starts cackling, body shaking with the impact of it.
"On a second thought though," Johnny starts, "Maybe, we should rethink on that, huh, Mark? I am your favorite, I think."
-•-