Work Text:
While Mark is the music, Jackson is the lyrics.
Mark is all about gestures, soft, almost imperceptible touches in alleyways and dark corners when no one’s eyes could ever reach them, all about privacy and precious words whispered when is only the two of them in the quiet of their shared bedroom. He is silence and is love unsaid but so strong you can feel it in every heartbeat of his heart, the feeling springing out of his body and searching for his rightful owner and the one who caused it to exist in the first place. Mark is not one to say big words or make announcements in front of their members just so everyone (well, not everyone, but at least the other five) knows about their undying, everlasting love. No, Mark is about asking if Jackson has eaten yet, or if he is feeling okay after a long schedule. Mark is about softly massaging Jackson back’s muscles when he is sore after yet another trip to another country just to film another variety show, pressing the heel of his hands in the right places in the moment Jackson collapses in the bed, following him without a second thought. Mark is the soft touches on the newly-dyed hair of Jackson, a silence way of showing his admiration and approbation on the color and cut. It’s not like anything would look bad on Jackson Mark thinks, always, more when the younger whines around about having to change again, the insecurity sparkling in his eyes even if he doesn’t voice it, but Mark knows. He always does.
Jackson, on the other hand, is more adventurous, lacing their hands together, even if it’s in a discreet way, in times in places where they shouldn’t be linked in any way. He is all about sneaked kisses while they are waiting to perform because if he doesn’t have his lucky kisses he would mess up, about voicing his feelings and fears to Mark all the time, even if they are not alone because even when they are surrounded by people they always have their universe apart, and in their shared universe the light of the stars is the sparkle in Mark’s eyes when their gaze meet, and the warm and light of the sun is each and every of Mark’s high pitched laughs, those where he can’t even breathe anymore, getting red in the face, mouth hanging open, eyes tightly closed and head hanging back exposing the milky texture of his neck. And he is fucking beautiful. And he tells him, loud and clear, because it’s not like it’s a lie or something no one knows. Jackson is about keeping Mark by his side all he can, never letting him go until he is a hundred percent sure he has to, when the flashing lights that try to capture and freeze the time forever could actually get them. And he doesn’t want to get caught ever, not because he is ashamed (because he is not) but because he knows it doesn’t only would affect the two of them, but also their friends’ career. And Jackson is also thoughtful, so even if he just wants to scream that he loves Mark Tuan to the top of his lungs, to hold his hand always, to kiss him everywhere all the time, he doesn’t. But he holds Mark tight when it’s the seven of them; he kisses him soundly and reminds him how much he loves every little thing about him, because even if he can’t scream it to the world, he can do it to his own world.
While Mark is the canvas, Jackson is the colors of the paintwork.
Mark is quiet force, the kind that makes you want to give your everything with just a look. Mark is the kind of people that gives you strength, that makes you always look better, be better. Even more when it comes to Jackson. He is kind soul, always ready to laugh at the worst of jokes and give reassuring smiles. Jackson is the strength of a storm, the noisiness of a thunder when it crashes. Jackson is one to make people go out of their shells, talking about them even before they had the chance, encouraging them to shine more, to outstand more. Mark gives space and peace, Jackson gives happiness and warm.
But Mark cannot be without Jackson, and Jackson cannot be without Mark.
It’s a kind of revelation when it hits Mark the face, hard and without anything that could make it hurt less. It’s not like it’s the first time he is sleeping alone in their shared bedroom. Jackson is always travelling here and there, always so busy with this and that program, always rushing, always talking to people, always smiling brightly. Jackson has a tight schedule and Mark has learned to live with it, keeping their relationships through texts and silly selfies while their away. He treasured those pictures, a whole folder hidden in the last part of his phone, a folder he knew many fans would die to have. But just like Jackson, they are his. And he likes the privacy of everything.
But right now he is pathetically curled in Jackson’s bed, wearing one of his shirts in total silence while his eyes meet nothing, his mind racing because what if everything is never the same? What if he has messed up really badly? Jackson must’ve already landed on Hong Kong, so why haven’t he texted him, even if they’ve fought Jackson should be considerate and tell him he is just fine and save.
But they fought. And the weight of it comes crashing down on the now small frame of Mark, because maybe he should’ve some things and maybe they should’ve keep quiet in other, but he and Jackson were stressed and tired and just pissed because they would be parting again and Mark hasn’t even sleeping in the same room with Jackson the last few days and Jackson has been avoiding him and they both felt hurt for the other’s behavior but in the end, Mark knew the real reason of their hurting is that it’s gonna be another month without facing each other.
He just wished he would’ve kissed Jackson instead. Shut the younger while he was starting to get really angry and let themselves melt into each other, unable to see where Mark ends and Jackson starts.
Now Jackson is heading to a program in Hong Kong with Bambam. Again. And his blood boils with jealousy. Because it should be him in Hong Kong and not the Thai. And suddenly Marks notices it. The room is not so silence. No, the room is filling up with little tiny sniffling sounds and sobs. The room is slowly filling up with his almost silent tears, and he wished he could drown in them if the words that had left Jackson’s mouth early were true and not so kind of cruel delusion of his tired and sick mind.
“I’m done.”
The month is achingly slow and Mark is almost thankful that has been only him and Youngjae in the dorm, because the others have been off. He just didn’t felt like going out and Mark knew Youngje would not pressure him to say or doing anything if he really didn’t feel like. Probably he knew about the state of the two love birds. It wasn’t even difficult, Mark was sure Bambam, who was waiting just outside had also listened. And the whole building, for God’s sake. Jackson was loud, but Mark could get incredibly loud too, he just had never felt like doing it. Until the fight. The damn fight for which the only updates he would get about Jackson would be through Instagram and fansites on twitter and the little he could figure out when Bambam called Youngjae. Not even a little text. Not an “I’m okay”. Not an “I miss you”. And it was tearing Mark apart. But he hadn’t tried to contact the younger either, somehow afraid of the response he could get, if he got any. So everything Mark had done for a month has been moping around, hugging some Jackson’s clothes and Coco when she would cheerfully ran into his room and jump in the bed, licking his tears away with her little tongue, tail flipping around and demanding some attention. He knew he couldn’t mop forever, not since even if Jackson had really broken up with him, they were still on the same group and they had to look happy. But he could do it while it was only him, and he would.
When Jackson and Bambam finally are back from Hong Kong, Mark was sleeping, forgetting totally the day he lives on and, consequently, forgetting Jackson is coming back. He is sleeping again in Jackson’s bed even if it doesn’t smell anymore like the younger. Jackson is tired, but his heart races when the sight of an even more tired Mark sleeping with a frown on his beautiful face hits him when he opens the door. Slowly, trying to keep quiet for once on his life, Jackson approaches his bed and sits on the foot of this, trembling hands closing the distance between him and Mark before he sighs, dropping his hand to his side, head hunging low because he isn’t angry anymore and can’t even remember why were they fighting in the first time, and now he can see that whatever it was, it has been harsh. So harsh to have Mark disturbed even in his dreams. Mark could know about him on every social media, but Jackson knew nothing of his boyfriend, because Mark has always been a lot better in hiding his private life and his life in general, so any updates. During the month length he has only thought about how he could apologize for being such a dick and making Mark so infuriated to the point of screaming his lungs off. To be honest, he was just done. Done of fighting with Mark in that moment, done with having to hide their relationship, done of having to be separate from the love of his life, done with that sadness that struck him sometimes, the kind that creeps up to your neck and strangles you until you can even breathe; the feeling of not being enough.
Sometimes Jackson looked at Mark and couldn’t really believe he has been so lucky, falling in love with such a beautiful young man, and said person reciprocating his feelings. It was like Mark was so simply and effortless precious, he just had to stand there to fill a whole room. He didn’t even have to say a word to make everyone sigh, just a smile and it was all. And sometimes Jackson felt like he wasn’t even half of him, and he tried to make it out for the beauty he lacked in comparison to Mark, so he had to be louder, funnier. Jackson knew Mark could do a lot better than him. He could date a perfect model (and he wouldn’t even compare to Mark), he could date a better artist, someone who wouldn’t leave him so often, or simply, someone better. The fear has always been in the back on Jackson’s mind, always shut down by the smiles Mark would only direct to him, his kisses or the marks he knew he had left more than once and twice on Mark’s body. But after a month of silence, it is there, in front of him in vivid colors and screaming his lungs off: Mark can do better. Jackson is not enough.
He quietly sighs, hands traveling to his hair and is ready to go so he doesn’t disturb the older’s sleep when the shuffle of the bed startles him. Soon, a weight on his back and a breath on his neck that only has him shivering. A sleepy Mark is hanging on off him and he wants to fucking hold the boy tightly, but he is unable to move. That the “Tuan effect”.
“I could hear you think even in my sleep, you’re too noisy” Mark’s voice is hoarse to the lack of use and Jackson wonder if he has even talked to anybody in the whole month.
“I’m sorry” is all that he can mutters, eyes shutting tightly.
“It’s okay, I wasn’t having a nice dream either” the older answers and Jackson finally is ready to turn his back, eyes meeting dark eyes and his breath hitches because god damn he had missed that pretty face.
“I wasn’t talking about this. But yeah, I’m sorry about that too” Jackson doesn’t even know why they’re being that quiet when it’s only both of them in the room, but he feels that it couldn’t be in any other way. “I… the fi… I’m sorry, Mark”
“Are you really done?” Mark asks suddenly, voice fill with worry that latches perfectly with the fear in his eyes, and for a second, Jackson doesn’t understand anything and can’t bear with the completely distressed look in Mark’s face “Are we, Jackson?”
Jackson’s mouth falls open, unable to make words that could go out, unable to understand how Mark could ever think that he would end their relationship. In his mind, it’s always Mark who ends it, it’s him who cries and doesn’t what to do with his life anymore because he can’t hold Mark never again. And when the thought that that’s how Mark has really been feeling all this time, his gut twist and the only thing left to do is kiss the older.
Jackson’s hand are cupping Mark’s face, keeping him impossibly closer while his lips directly hover the older’s, devouring him with so much need. A whole month without kissing Mark Tuan should be illegal, because it’s almost like and instinct and Mark is pressing back into him like it is what he has made to do, like he was born to kiss Jackson. And soon their lips are moving in perfect synch, Mark’s hand griping on Jackson’s sides because he can’t believe he is kissing him again, because he thought he would never do it again and Jackson’s mouth it’s to intoxicating.
Soon, a moan flies out of Mark’s mouth and dies in Jackson’s when the older nibbles on his bottom lip, sucking on it later, and one of Mark’s hand is now at Jackson’s nape, gripping on the short hair and pulling, which only makes Jackson groan and suddenly Mark’s is hearing angels sing.
“Never” Jackson finally exhales while he keeps abusing Mark’s mouth, his hands roaring the expense of Mark body, hugging every edge and clinging onto it “We will never be done. I’ll never be done with you.”
It’s a surprise because Jackson’s rough hand finally reach Mark’s ass and he knead it hard, squeezing and bringing Mark even closer, their crotches moving together and of course Mark mouth is hanging open and that, so Jackson’s tongue decides to explore the older’s mouth until he meets his tongue and, more than battle, they dance together.
The kisses slow down, the blood pressure going down while Mark and Jackson start to slow down their make out session until it’s only quick pecks and soft smiles and locked eyes. Suddenly the warm it’s there again, and not only because Jackson is holding Mark tight but with so much care at the same time, like he could be broken in any moment. No, it was because Jackson, his Jackson, was back, and suddenly their room felt like a home again. “I’m sorry Mark,” The younger’s soft voice echoes on his ear, and Mark can sense all the feelings hidden behind the strong mask the brunet always wear “You don’t deserve to go through all of this. To be unhappy because of me. Yet I’m so selfish I can bear the single thought of letting you g-”
“You make me happy” Mark’s cuts him mid-sentence, shifting slowly so his back is resting against the broad chest of Jackson, a sight of happiness escaping his lips “It’s not that I deserve it or not. I don’t mind it at all because even if I go through hell, I’m going… with you” suddenly, insecurity hits him and the end sounds more like a question, so Jackson takes his head by the chin softly, tilting Mark’s head so he can expose his neck and starts to leave a trail of kisses.
“Of course, you idiot.” Jackson reassures now. “We are going to go to hell together, I knew from the first time I saw your face and I never minded it. I will never. We’ll make Hell our kingdom” Mark chuckles softly, the vibrations hitting Jackson, the sound making him smile wider than ever and he can help but think that that’s the great thing about them both. They complement each other, always reassuring and caring, always close, like they are made of the different parts of the same material, and when they are together the gem shines the brightest. So, yes, while Mark is the music, Jackson is the lyrics, and together they create the most beautiful songs ever.