So I had my training this morning for my new job and actually enjoyed it??? I'm in a good mood and enjoyed editing this even if it is a little angsty...

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"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't offer otherwise." Mark smiles at the younger.

His cheeks have gained a bit more colour, each passing minute clearing the glaze over his eyes and calming the bouncing of his legs. The napkin lies discarded amongst the crumbs on his plate, corners ripped and dog-eared, but at least he has an aura of happiness, like he's genuinely joyful in Renjun's presence, no longer plagued by the guilt of disappearing or by the threat of running out of breath as soon as he utters a word.

"Okay, then," Renjun gives into Mark's offer of heading back to his apartment. Mark grins.

"Awesome!" They both laugh. When their feet knock together under the table, they catch each other's eyes and laugh harder.

Jaehyun brings the bill and Mark pays, not accepting any arguments from Renjun, then the waiter raises an eyebrow at Renjun on the way out. Mark doesn't notice, but Renjun has to rush out the door before he combusts. He may be falling hard for Mark, but it's a totally different story as soon as someone else picks up on it. His friends are all under the impression it's just a blooming friendship, although Renjun is sure it's developing into more.

Mark keeps chatting about an essay he had to write on Charles Dickens in his first year. He avoids eye contact with the younger, playing it off by checking the time on his phone, by texting Jungwoo to let him know he's coming back with a guest, by pointing out more cute clouds. Mark is a whirlwind of a million conversation topics at once, a dizzying display of innocence and delight that soothes Renjun. His enthusiasm relaxes every muscle in the younger's body. It conducts his heart, guides it through a thrilling crescendo and accelerando.

They pass the university gates and keep going, eventually turning into a street Renjun doesn't recognise but he trusts Mark, feet following on autopilot like it's the most natural thing. "Here we are," Mark says when they reach the building.

Moss clings to the old bricks, concealing the graffiti by the entrance, but the doors are automatic and the walls in the reception area are a cheerful yellow, the chairs a vibrant blue, and Renjun tightens his grip on his sketchbook so that the excited trembling of his fingers can't cause him to drop it on the stairs.

"It's the seventh floor. Sorry," Mark says with a chuckle, then glances over his shoulder at Renjun. He blinks as though he wasn't expecting Renjun to be looking at him.

"No worries. There are lots of stairs to my dorm, so I'm used to it," Renjun replies.

They step inside the apartment and a bright piano melody greets them while they kick off their shoes. Renjun's gaze lingers on the painting in the hallway. It's an abstract print, a scattering of blocks of all kinds of colours, and he nods in appreciation when Mark catches him staring at it.

"I'm honoured to have the approval of an artist," Mark jokes. Renjun raises his hand to smack his shoulder but never follows through, just miming the action instead. Mark still flinches before releasing the contagious giggle Renjun can't help but join in with. "The music is Jungwoo's. He hates silence."

"Chenle studies music. He's an amazing pianist," Renjun says.

He follows Mark through the living room, past the humble television and mismatching sofa and armchair and precarious stack of folders on the table in the corner, then into the kitchen, where they find a guy – presumably Jungwoo – glaring at a laptop. "Is Chenle one of your dormmates?"

"Yeah," Renjun says. "Hi." He greets Jungwoo.

"Hi!" Jungwoo grins, flicks his black bangs out of his eyes as he stretches, arms above his head, before stopping the music on his laptop. "Are you Renjun?" he asks the question with a smile that flickers when he sees Renjun's soulmate dust and, although he maintains composure as he types on his computer, Renjun shuffles his weight between his feet.

The yellow glow of his dust catches everyone out. Everyone seems to know something except him, and it hurts like a bullet aimed at his heart each time, only mildly missing the target but creeping closer and closer with each attempt. He knows they don't mean it. But Mark, Jaehyun, and now Jungwoo?

"What are you up to?" Mark bends down and leans his chin on Jungwoo's shoulder to get a look at the screen. Renjun swallows the complaint that slashes through his heart.

"A professor's being a dick again," Jungwoo says. His voice remains light, a breath of fresh air to conceal his frustration.

"Yeah?" Mark asks. He looks up to meet Renjun's eyes, then shuffles back from Jungwoo a little, hand still resting on the chair as though he can't separate himself from his friend.

"Yeah." Jungwoo shakes his head, punches the keyboard with a short laugh. "He says he didn't receive my essay and is trying to mark me down for missing the deadline. But I literally sent it to him three days ago!"

"I remember you sending it," Mark adds.

"Exactly."

Renjun watches them both. They talk as though he's not there, although their conversation leaves a door open for him to enter should he wish. Jungwoo seems friendly, like he'd lighten up the mood without even being asked. Meeting him has settled a particular worry in Renjun's stomach; he's relieved to know Mark has such a great friend, someone he can have easy conversations with, someone he can rest his chin on. Even if Renjun wishes Mark would rest his chin on his shoulder instead.

He doesn't want to be nosy, but his curiosity convinces him to look around the room. The fridge whirs, a deep rumble that fills the brief silence while Mark reads over Jungwoo's email draft, and magnets and leaflets decorate the front. There's a photo of Mark and Jungwoo with their cheeks pressed together and eyes squinting from the sun, the selfie taken in a park. A magnet from Vancouver. Another from Tokyo. There are no dirty plates in the sink, unlike his own dorm, and the line of mugs against the wall is neat, each one with its own designated position. Even the stack of bills on the kitchen table seems to have order – there's a pile of opened envelopes and another for those yet to be read.

The only thing out of place is the collection of pills on top of the microwave. They're tucked away in the shadows of the cupboard above, but once Renjun notices them he can't move on. One bottle has the label peeled off to leave scraps of the original text. The second is intact, yet the name is long and it isn't paracetamol, so he's clueless. A third bottle is discarded on its side with only a crushed white tablet box to block it from rolling away. Both boxes are dented, flaps ripped and left open as though opened and ditched in a frenzy.

Renjun doesn't want to be nosy, but he only stops inspecting them when Mark calls his name and offers to lead the way to his room. Mark nibbles his bottom lip and tenses his jaw, silently letting the younger know who the medication belongs to. Guilt follows Renjun back through the living room. It's none of his business, yet he can't tame his shock.

His shock only multiplies when Mark opens his bedroom door.

The room has no order to it whatsoever.

Renjun struggles to muffle his gasp at the heap of clothes in the middle of the carpet, at the faded Twilight poster clinging to the wall by a single strip of Sellotape, at the unmade bed and broken blinds and open wardrobe. Which is mostly empty, he notes. The bookshelves are also empty. The books are scattered across the floor instead, some splayed open, pages creased against the carpet, none looking happy or cared for. He spots the hoodie Mark had worn the day they met. And the drawing of a tree is torn in half on his desk.

"Maybe not," Mark mutters. "I forgot I... we could, like, watch a movie or something?" Mark pushes his glasses up his nose as he fumbles, then ushers Renjun back into the hallway. "The TV isn't the best, but it works. You can pick something."

Renjun doesn't question the destruction in Mark's room. But the image doesn't leave his mind all while Mark waits for Netflix to load. If it weren't for the restless shifting of the elder's gaze, Renjun might have believed there'd been a robbery. The mess didn't seem to have built up from months of laziness. No, it looked like it had happened in one go. In a fit of anger, of desperation. In a fit of an emotion Renjun would have sworn Mark wasn't capable of. It's another stark reminder that they hardly know each other. They have yet to let each other into their lives.

Mark clears his throat, tugging Renjun's mind back to the room, to the stained sofa that's comfortable nonetheless. "How was your birthday, by the way? I don't think I ever asked."

The distance between them shrinks a little when Mark sits back and pulls his knees to his chest. His gaze is steady, his intent framed by the rims of his glasses, and Renjun can't bring himself to meet it. Not after so blatantly staring at the medication. Not after witnessing the mess he definitely should not have witnessed.

"My birthday?" Renjun turns away from The Adam Project – a film they've both seen before but was an easy choice from the homepage – and looks at Mark's neck. The hickey has cleared up by now, yet its absence unravels his curiosity all over again. The apartment holds no signs of anyone else in Mark's life. No other friends besides Jungwoo and Jaehyun. There's another boy smiling beside Mark in a photo on the shelf, but his features resemble Mark so he must be a brother.

"Renjun?" Mark prompts.

The younger blinks, then smiles. "Sorry. Just tired." The excuse rolls off his tongue like a reflex. "But my birthday was good. Thanks for asking." It's a bland response that sparks shame in his throat given that Mark spoke for the entire walk back from the café.

"Did you get any cool presents?" Mark's interest appears genuine.

"A new cactus and," Renjun starts, but the elder's surprise truncates his sentence. "What?"

"A cactus?"

"Yeah. House plants are... my thing, I guess?" Renjun picks his thumbnail. Mark cleans his glasses with his sleeve, then tucks a few stray hairs behind his ear.

"That's cute."

Mark looks away once those words leave his mouth and licks his lips just in time for a soft blush to settle across his cheeks. He scratches the back of his neck. Renjun raises an eyebrow as a show of confidence to mask the nausea that rises up his throat, fuelled by the fluttering of his heart.

"Thank you?" Renjun laughs. Mark joins in for a second, but stops to cross his legs instead, bouncing his knee and picking at a loose thread on his t-shirt.

"Did you see your family?" Mark's voice is weaker now, addled in an awkward tension that threatens to cut it off, and he winces, eyes lowering to the floor once again. The characters shout on screen, but the dramatic music doesn't hide the flash of betrayal on his face.

Renjun's mind drifts again, this time to the way Mark curls into himself. To the way the boy seems to be built of layers upon layers, and Renjun doesn't understand a single one of them. Can't decipher a single thing. Biting his lip, Mark reaches past the neck of his jumper to slide his fingers along the string of his soulmate necklace. He pulls his hand back like it burns.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Could be... sensitive," he says, twirling his thumbs together, cracking his knuckles, which is only something else he has to apologise for since Renjun scrunches his nose in disapproval.

"Don't be. It's okay. I was thinking about... something else." Renjun shakes his head, begs it to stop analysing Mark's every move. It only ever leads to dead ends. "But no, I had a video call with my parents that morning. They're both really busy with work so couldn't fit a visit into their schedules," he explains with a shrug. The words sting. Even if they're true, it doesn't alleviate the bitterness. He supposes he wanted to study in Korea, so he has to deal with the side effects of being away from home.

"What were you thinking about?" Mark asks. "Sorry. I must seem so nosy. You can totally ignore any of my questions at any time."

"Stop apologising," Renjun teases. He thinks about all his own questions, about if Mark would ignore them. "But I was thinking about Jaemin." That raises Mark's eyebrows, but he doesn't see through the white lie.

"Your ex, right?"

"Mmh." Renjun's eyes trail towards Mark's bedroom door, the spotless white wood showing no indication of the mess on the other side. "He had a bit of an argument with his soulmate. Well, I don't know that for sure, but Donghyuck basically walked in on Jaemin talking about him to me. I don't know what happened next. They seem to be on good terms again now. I'm not sure. I haven't seen much of them since."

Mark nods along, cheeks still flushed. "Have you spoken to Jaemin about it? Asked either of them?"

"I thought it might be a bit bad to ask."

"I don't think so. As long as you don't, like, force them to tell you," Mark says. "You could just ask casually. No need to make a big deal out of it, you know?"

Renjun thinks over every time Jaemin has cried to him, every time Donghyuck has been stiff in his presence, every time someone has definitely made a big deal out of things. But he nods anyway. "Alright. Thanks. I'll try when I get back."

"Cool." Mark stops bouncing his knees and pulls them back to his chest, muttering a complaint about how sitting cross-legged always makes his thighs twinge. Then he rests his hand on the sofa, in the narrow space between the two of them.

Renjun's skin bristles. He wants to take Mark's hand and pull him closer. He wants to gaze into his deep, round eyes, run his thumb over his cute, round cheeks, then kiss his soft, round lips until they're both breathless and dizzy. Without warning, his thoughts retreat to Jaemin. The boy who used to snatch his breath away whenever they kissed. But he isn't with Jaemin anymore. He has Mark instead. The boy who makes his heart flutter – for real – and who laughs at the slightest joke, brightening the entire room and Renjun's whole day.

Mark brings his hand to settle on his knees, erasing the opportunity for the younger to clasp it, and Renjun turns back to the film to hide his disappointment. His heart is in his throat, and his throat is tight with want. Even when the violence picks up on screen, he can't focus on any of it. It all merges into a single mesh of noise, mere static in comparison to the chanting of his soulmate's name in his head.

"I was kind of, um, lonely before I met you."

The sudden confession silences Renjun's thoughts, too stunned to think, to do anything besides stare at the elder. Mark licks his lips and scratches his neck again.

"Um, yeah. I'm glad I met you. Thanks for putting up with me and my awkwardness," Mark continues. He's rambling again, but Renjun soaks up every word.

"You are my soulmate, after all. I wasn't going to walk away as though we'd never met," Renjun replies. The confidence shocks even himself.

Mark ducks his head, still licking his lips. He cracks his knuckles again, reaches for his soulmate dust before pulling his hand back down to pick at his fingernails. The conversation dies for three heartbeats. "Yeah." He laughs through his next exhale but it's too late to be natural.

"Have you dated someone, too?" Renjun surprises himself again with the question yet can't chase after the words once they reach the air. "Is the soulmate thing a sensitive topic for you, too? We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'll drop it and never mention it again."

Mark rolls his shoulders and rests his head on the back of the sofa, eyes up to the ceiling. It only allows the light to illuminate the approaching tears that he tries to blink away. "I've had a few flings here and there. Nothing serious," Mark begins. He swallows and closes his eyes. "But, um, about the soulmate thing... I..."

Renjun mirrors the elder's posture. His dust bottle knocks against the tops of his knees as he hugs them close, and it feels hot, burnt with desire.

"No," Mark whispers. He rubs his eyes, then leaves his hands over his face so that they muffle his next words. "I can't tell you. Not right now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Renjun."

Five more heartbeats of silence between them. Mark sniffs, laughs a watery laugh that alerts Jungwoo, who flies into the room. "Would you like me to leave?" Renjun asks as Jungwoo kneels in front of Mark.

"I'm sorry." Mark repeats over and over, as though apologising for a lot more than just not being able to answer a question. His shoulders shake, his toes curl and his knuckles turn white.

"Mark, stop it. Just take a deep breath. You're fine," Jungwoo places his hands on Mark's knees. Mark doesn't react, hands gripping his hair now.

"I'll leave." Renjun says quietly.

It takes a minute to gather his sketchbook and tote bag and to slide on his shoes. He casts a final look over his shoulder before he reaches for the front door handle. Jungwoo's face dims with sadness, then regret flickers through his expression when he meets Renjun's eyes.

"Don't worry about him. He'll be alright." Jungwoo looks back at Mark. He reaches for his hands to pull them down and hold them tight, but Mark shakes his head and refuses to show his face. Jungwoo purses his lips. "I'll make sure of it."

So Renjun leaves. On the way home, he plays Jungwoo's words over in his mind. They hold a strange kind of determination, a mask for what hides between the syllables, and the hesitation had almost given it away. Almost. It did tell Renjun one thing, though: Mark is not alright.

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Poor Mark :( any theories?? :D And, as always, the chapters are getting longer because I get carried away oops