Archive of Our Own

Johnny exhales a sigh, loud and deep it almost sounds like a groan when he throws himself on the bed, back hitting the springy mattress. The sun blares at him through the light curtains, overcasting him and everything around him in a soft, warm evening glow as speckles of dust float around the room, filling his vision. Proof of how long this room has been unused.

Well, this is it. This is where Johnny will be spending his summer holiday right after high school. All the way across the world, miles and miles away from home and his friends and all he's ever known in America, in some small, random, rural village in Korea.

He remembers when his parents broke the news to him. They were eating dinner on the table, Johnny occasionally sneaking glances at his phone and texting out quick replies to his friends when phones aren't usually allowed on the table. But in his defense, those messages were kinda important — well, as important as it could be to an 18 year old boy.

"You're spending this summer in Korea with your halmeoni and harabeoji," his mother had blurted out, not looking away from her bowl of rice.

In an instant, Johnny's grin while typing out another reply had been wiped clean off his face. His heart sank at the same time his jaw dropped open. "What?"

His eyes dart between his mother's face and his father's face, scanning them in disbelief. "Eomma, appa, what?!" He repeats.

"We thought it would be good for you," his father had spoken up, still not meeting him in the eye. If they were gonna drop a bomb and change his whole life for 3 months the least they could do was make eye contact with him, right?

"Good for me, how?"

"It's good character development. Your halmeoni and harabeoji will teach you good life lessons that we apparently couldn't," his mother then explained.

"Eomma, you can't do that! I have plans with my friends and- and stuff!"

"What, plans to go out partying and coming back home at 3 in the morning?," his mother scoffed, finally looking at him in the eye, "don't think me and your appa didn't know about that."

"But- but—"

"No buts, John," his father warned, pointing the wrong end of his chopsticks towards Johnny's direction, "it's settled. You're going to Korea alone for the summer. The plane tickets has already been bought."

Johnny had grumbled and accepted defeat that night, mumbling something under his breath about it being unfair and that it was his last summer before college. He gobbled up the rest of his dinner and headed straight for his room without cleaning his own dishes.

Just because he surrendered that particular night didn't mean he submitted to his parent's request just like that. Spanning the few weeks he had left in America he had pleaded to his parents, but nothing had seemed to change their minds on Johnny spending the summer alone with his grandparents in Korea.

So he hugged his parents goodbye, got a kiss on his cheek by his mom and a pat on his back by his dad and boarded the plane to Seoul, South Korea alone. 13 and a half hours in the air, stuck with two other men next to him, seemingly in their mid 30s to late 40s. But hey, at least the aisle seat he got gave him extra leg room to work with. And he didn't have to squeeze through anyone to get to the bathroom.

By the time he landed in South Korea, it was already in the evening whereas in Chicago, it would've been the middle of noon. His grandparents had been awaiting his arrival, immediately smothering him with affection as soon as Johnny got in reach of them. They looked smaller, older, wrinklier since the last time Johnny had visited them — freshman year in high school, if Johnny remembers correctly — but their affections are still as warm. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, Johnny had thought before being pulled to get back home by his grandpa.

And now he's here, in a spare bedroom in his grandparent's house that hasn't been used in years that will be where he'll be sleeping for the next 3 months. How fun.

A knock on the door came a second later, the quiet rustle of the doorknob turning over prompting him to sit up on the bed.

His grandfather peeks through the door. “Your halmeoni is making dinner, you should clean up soon,” he says, voice rasp and low. Johnny only nods as the older man closes his door, giving Johnny the privacy he needs. With a sigh, he gets up from the bed.

“How is America?” His grandmother speaks at the dinner table, stuffing his plate with more food than necessary. Johnny inwardly questions how he’s going to finish it without throwing up later.

“It’s okay,” he answers, “like normal.”

His grandmother hums at his reply, in that way that shows she’s trying to seem impressed, but she doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. “What have you been up to these days?” She asks instead, which seems to be an even harder question.

“I graduated high school recently,” he wracks his brain to find a decent answer, “I’m going to Columbia College Chicago in August. I’ve been accepted.”

“Oh, nice!” She says, now genuinely impressed, “was that your first choice?”

He hums, “it was my second choice.”

“What was your first choice?”

“Appa made me put Harvard as a first choice…” he looks down dejectedly, “I got rejected.” He feels the heat creeping up to his face in embarrassment, and he’s sure his ears have been stained pink when he hears his grandfather laugh suddenly.

“That boy, he’s always been like that,” his grandfather sighs out, shaking his head with a smile evident on his face, “don’t take it to heart, Youngho-yah. We people were never cut out for that kind of place anyways.”

A face flashes in his mind when his grandfather says that — his father’s face — a mix of dissatisfaction and guilt. If you were to ask Johnny what the term ‘disappointed but not surprised’ meant, he would’ve gave you that exact scene ; him telling his father “I told you I wouldn’t get it” and his father replying with “You never know unless you try” before patting his back weakly, the gutted emotion slipping from his fingers and into Johnny’s spine and veins.

His grandfather might have meant it as a joke, a jab at how average and ordinary the family is, but deep down inside Johnny’s heart, he feels something warm blooming, something that makes him smile at his grandfather and nod, humming along as if he agrees on their typicality. A healed patch.

They finish up dinner after a little while, mostly silent if not for the customary small-talk that occurs here and there.

When Johnny gets out of his room in the morning, hair still damp from his morning shower, he hears the birds chirping outside through the windows and doors his grandparents leave open for fresh air. Maybe these are the pros of living in the countryside — you could’ve never done this in the city if you valued your life and belongings.

He sees his grandmother sitting on the floor cross-legged in front of the TV, flipping through what seems to be a photobook. She calls for him to sit next to her when she notices him staring.

"This is your father when he was your age," she explains as he settles down beside her, pointing at a yellowed picture, ripped around the edges and creased white along the surface.

He has seen his father’s younger pictures, obviously, but he’s never seen pictures of his father as a teenager. And from his vivid memory of his father back at home — older, wrinkles doting his face, hair turning greyer by the day, grim faced with the occasional fond smile when his mother turns her back on him — he looks exceptionally different in the photos he’s being presented with now.

The guy in the pictures have the same facial features as his father — same eyes, same nose structure, same plump lips that he inherited — but he seems... carefree in a way that Johnny probably last saw when he was like, 9 years old playing with his appa at the park.

His father has hair that reaches past his shoulders, prominent freckles that adorns his face, his tongue out while both his hands are next to his face, making a rock-n-roll motion. The picture, even if it doesn't have the color technology we have today, emits a dynamism he's never seen in his father. Johnny can't help but crack a smile. His appa was like him too.

Then why the fuck did he care so much that Johnny partied?

His grandma caresses the picture, thumb swiping over her son's face as if she can feel his skin through the paper. "He used to go out at night with his friends a lot," she smiles when she talks, never looking up from the picture, "your harabeoji and I would get so mad when he would come back home at 5 in the morning."

Johnny hums. He's not too sure of what to say. Should he ask more about what his father did when he was a teenager? Should he try to pry out some forsaken information he surely should not be knowing to blackmail his father when he comes back to the US? Should he just sit here and listen and nod to whatever it is his grandmother wanted to say until she got bored and tells him to do whatever he wanted, which was kind of just stay in his room until this whole ordeal of a trip came to an end?

She speaks again when he doesn't make the effort to hold the conversation going. "He drank a little bit too when he wasn't allowed to yet, much like you," she giggles, that makes him scrunch his nose and wonder how much of his life his parents has revealed to his grandparents for them to ultimately try to fix whatever is wrong with him — which is none, by the way! The only thing they want to fix is his growing social life as a teenager.

She chuckles when she sees the expression he's making. "It's true, though. Your appa was drinking little bits of alcohol at your age. The only reason me and your harabeoji found out was because one of his closest friends had been involved in a drunk driving accident and passed away. He swore to never touch a single shot ever again," she says so casually it gives Johnny a bit of a whiplash at the sudden mention of death. Older people are just like that, he thinks, mentioning death more and more normally like a friend of theirs as they get older and it eventually becomes expected.

He does recall the time he got caught drinking with his parents — even if it was 4% and mixed with something else, tasted entirely like mixed berries and didn't make him feel intoxicated in the slightest — his father especially was the most disappointed, not even looking at Johnny for a week and not talking to him directly for another 2 more. He never knew there could be a specific past memory attached to what he's been doing, one that probably has him dwelling each night with past regrets he'll never come back from.

Before he can add in his condolences, ( he still has some decency, ) his grandmother pats his back, prompting him to look at her as she continues talking. "Your appa just wants the best for you," she smiles at him sweet and calming, "he's been in your situation and knows the worst outcome. He doesn't want bad things to happen to his son. He just doesn't know how to express it very well." She sighs a tad defeatedly, "that boy, he never knew how to show his emotions nicely." And Johnny thinks he may have inherited that trait himself from his father.

A knock on the door shatters the illusion of him and his grandmother being alone, and through the wide open door he sees a boy around his age peek his head inside, small smile playing his lips. "May I come in?" He asks politely, dangling a basket in front of his face.

“Oh Minhyungie, of course, of course, come in!” His grandmother exclaims, leaving the photobook on the floor and hurriedly ushering him inside. The boy smiles, teeth showing as he starts to step inside.

The boy — Johnny examines — has fair, milky skin ( which he can only imagine is soft to touch ), soft, fluffy, straight black hair and eyes as wide as the universe. His cheekbones are high on his face, but all his features mellow out so nicely it really is the definition of facial harmony. There’s a soft glow surrounding him as he enters the house, but it might just be the backlight from the sun outside. Nevertheless, Johnny concludes that he’s really pretty. “Sorry for disturbing, Ahjumma. I brought over some fruits I got from the garden.”

“You’re not disturbing anything! These are lovely, thank you so much Minhyung,” she takes the basket from his hands, bringing them over to the kitchen, “I’ll get them ready in the kitchen.”

The boy only smiles, nodding before his eyes shifts over to the stranger on the floor — to Johnny on the floor, tilting his head as he lets out a confused hum. Well, Johnny is the grandson, so he's not really a stranger, but he's a stranger to this stranger's eyes. Johnny decides to mimic the boy's movements, tilting his head to the other side.

"Oh, that's my grandson, he's staying here for the summer," his halmeoni explains from the kitchen, already starting to cut open the melon, "he's from America!"

"America?!" The boy positively exclaims, wide eyes turning wider as his face beams, eyebrows shooting up so high it could probably touch his hairline, "dude, where in America?"

The sudden change to English startles Johnny. He wasn't expecting to be speaking English at all for the next few months, except for talking to himself in the bathroom mirror and texting his friends and family back home. "You speak English?" He asks instead of answering.

"Oh yeah, haha," the guy in front of him smiles sheepishly, moving from near the door to finally sit on the floor near Johnny. "I was born in Canada but I moved to Korea when I was like 12. My name's Mark by the way, Minhyung is just my Korean name" he extends a hand, and Johnny accepts it almost immediately.

"I'm Johnny."

Mark nods, humming, acknowledging. "You're American though right? Which state?" He revisits his first question.

"Oh yeah right. I'm from Chicago, Illinois," he answers.

They talk for a little bit on the floor, getting to know each other. Johnny learns that Mark was born in Toronto but moved to New York, then moved again to Vancouver and finally moved to Korea ; learns that Mark is only a year younger than he is ; learns that he's actually his grandparent's next door neighbour ; learns that Mark says dude and bro a tad bit too much.

Johnny knows in the back of his mind that he should probably go to the kitchen and help his grandmother cut up the fruits Mark arrived with, but he can't help but keep talking to Mark, keep learning about him through customary small talk and figuring out just what kind of person he is. He blames it on being able to find familiarity in the growing unfamiliarity of Korea.

His grandmother comes back with 2 plates of cut-up melons and peaches, and Johnny sees Mark get up from where he’s sitting to help the older woman. Guiltily, Johnny follows suit, taking the plates from his grandmother’s hands and setting them down on a nearby coffee table. "All I've been hearing is just chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter in English. What are you two talking about?" She raises an accusatory eyebrow.

The next day, he wakes up to constant knocking on the bedroom door. He startles awake, finding his phone to check the time, only for it to blare back 8.30 AM.

He groans and swipes a hand over his face before getting up and opening the door, stopping the knocking instantly. His annoyance also dissipates instantly when the person he sees is Mark, who is several centimetres shorter than he is, big eyed and vivacious even at this time of morning. "Oh sorry, were you sleeping?" The younger asks.

Johnny almost replies with a snarky duh, no shit Sherlock, but instead just hums and nods. For some reason he can't get himself to be so rude to the guy. "Yeah, I was, but it's cool. What's up?"

"Ahjussi told me to ask you to come to the garden with me," he answers, a slight pout ghosting over his lips, "so... do you wanna come with?"

Johnny only stares at Mark for a little while, turning the cogs in his brain to figure out if he really wants to go gardening with the guy in front of him. Realistically, he wouldn't. He doesn't know how to do any gardening shit — hell, he barely knows the names of the tools and products and whatever else they use, he doesn't know if he'll even like it in the dirt, he doesn't know if he'll be of any help to Mark in the garden, and he doesn't know if it'll even bring him any dopamine to go gardening at fuck-ass-o’clock in the morning.

( It’s not fuck-ass-o’clock, but he’s too used to waking up in the afternoon to consider any time of morning as anything reasonable. )

"Sure," Johnny finally says. He doesn't know why he said it, but he guesses doing just about anything is better than rotting away in this house and room for the next 3 months. "Let me get ready first."

"For sure, dude! Let me know when you're done, I'll be waiting in the living room. Take your time," Mark flashes a smile before walking down the hallway.

Johnny doesn't take his time. Rather, he takes as little time as possible, speed-running through his morning routine like his life depended on not keeping Mark waiting.

He exits the room ( his room at this point ) after a few short minutes, making his way over to the couch where Mark sits, scrolling through his Samsung. Maybe it's a country thing? Or maybe Johnny's being classist.

"Yo, dude, that was quick," Mark says when he finally notices Johnny approaching.

"Really? I didn't even notice." Of course he noticed. He'd be blind if he didn't notice. Or stupid. Maybe both.

"Well, let's go then!" Mark leads them out of the house and onto the road after they bid goodbye to Johnny's grandmother.

The road isn't much of a road here ; more like a pathway full of dirt and rocks — mostly rocks. It's particularly slim, just big enough to haul a car. It'd be the shakiest, most unstable path to go through if you were to drive a car on it though ; and Johnny would know. Because he got here by car. But he guesses cars rarely ever come by, because they walk on the middle of the path. There's no sidewalks here anyway.

"Dude, I forgot to ask this but why are you in Korea though?" Mark suddenly asks in the middle of their journey, perking Johnny's eyebrows up slightly at the sudden conversation.

"Uhhh my parents sent me to Korea alone to live with my grandparents for the whole summer for some character development type-of thing," he feels his ears heating up at the admission that his parents think he needs some fixing to do, that his parents think he's gone rouge and the only way to get him back on track is to send him thousands of miles away. Like he's an underaged criminal getting sent away to juvie to relinquish discipline and not their son who's taking a trip back to his motherland. To also relinquish discipline. "At least that's what they said," he says to soften the message.

"Character development? What's that supposed to mean?" He sees one of Mark's eyebrows perk up from the corner of his eye. See, even Mark thinks it's ridiculous! He'll update his mom about this ; Hey Eomma, I made a new friend, he thinks this character development trip is bullshit and a waste of time too.

Okay well he won't actually say that — he’ll get whacked — but one could only dream. His anger from the whole predicament still hasn't vanished yet, only diluting the more he realises it really isn’t that bad over here.

"Beats me,” he shrugs.

When they arrive at the garden after just a bit of walking, Johnny finds it to be very pleasant. A little small — a brown gate surrounding maybe just a few metres of land — but pleasant nonetheless. The gate Mark opens is short, and Johnny thinks he could easily hop over it, but still gives out a curt nod when Mark lets him through. There’s a large field behind where the gate ends, all green and fresh.

“What do you say?”

Mark’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “What?”

“I opened the door for you. What do you say?” He says expectantly, an eyebrow raised as a he places a hand on his hip, popping it off to the side. Damn, Johnny never noticed, but damn does Mark have good hips.

Snap out of it, Johnny.

Johnny questions him with a puzzled look, eyebrows furrowing with his mouth agape, question marks filling his face. It takes him a second, two, before he replies back with a hesitant “…thank you?”

“There you go,” Mark smiles as he closes the gate before walking in front of Johnny, “good boy. You’re welcome.”

Johnny’s face burns with shame and embarrassment, heat rising up to his face at increasing speed. It takes him a second to get back on track but he scurries off to follow behind Mark when he’s come back to reality.

“The field back there is my dad’s,” Mark says, pointing over to the tall heaps of grass on the other side of the fence. “He gave me this small section for my gardening.”

“This is all yours?” He asks, looking at the flowers around him.

“Yep, I planted them all.”

“Cool,” Johnny hums, “it’s really pretty.”

When Johnny meets Mark’s eyes, Mark is already smiling, bright and sweet. Johnny thinks Mark could honestly beat the sun at how bright his face glows. “Thank you,” he says through shy giggles.

They walk through the garden for a little bit before a bunch of small red flowers catches Johnny’s eye. He crouches down to look at it more intently and Mark follows suit, crouching down beside him.

“These are called Pentas,” Mark explains as he brings a batch into his palm, touching the petals under his fingertips, “they represent love and beauty.”

“A lot of them are gone though,” Johnny comments, noticing the large patches of withered stems holding no flowers.

“Yeah,” Mark’s sigh that came out of his mouth sounds a little deflated before he continues, “I usually don’t pick my own flowers, but the kids sometimes do. I don’t really mind it though because it means they like how my flowers look. I’ve seen some of them confess with it too.”

“The kids?” Johnny questions.

“Yeah, the kids around the village,” Mark replies, “I can introduce you to them soon if you’d like.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Johnny points him a finger which makes Mark chuckle.

Johnny pulls out his phone from his pocket, sliding the screen when it lights up alive and snaps a few photos of the flowers. Maybe he’ll post them on his Instagram Story after this, trying to act cool and unbothered by the sudden trip on social media. Mark waits until Johnny is finished taking pictures before he plucks one of the Pentas, even though he just told Johnny he doesn’t pluck his own plants.

With the flower in hand, Mark easily slips the small flower into Johnny’s hair, perched right above his ear. “You look really good in red,” he compliments when he takes in the sight before him.

Johnny doesn’t say thank you, nor does Mark push him for it — instead just staring at Johnny with a soft smile before he stands back up. “I’ve got fruits in the back as well.”

Mark is already trudging towards the back of the organised garden when Johnny decides to snap a photo of himself with the flower in his hair ; this one is just for him. He gets up to follow Mark right after that.

Mark is a man of his words because the very next day Johnny finds himself being invited ( more like begging so hard they’re forcing him ) by kids as young as 6 years old to play basketball with him. It sends a shiver down his spine when he realises he’s playing with kids a maximum of 12 years younger than him. Dang, he’s getting old.

He’s grouped up with the younger kids because they said they needed the advantage of an older, taller guy with them to win the game. He also has a feeling the older kids ( ranging from 13 to 15 year olds, he’s assuming ) think they can win against him, if the smug looks plastered on their faces are anything to go by.

Speaking of winning, Johnny’s sure he’s gonna be bringing home that winner winner chicken dinner for these kids when he dunks in another point.

Cheers and groans echoes the low-maintained yet loved court of this small village, the kids he’s grouped with swarming him for scoring them another goal. He cheers along with them as a kid rushes up to him and jumps way too high for his body, hands in the air as he lunges himself towards Johnny.

Johnny reciprocates the high-five as he feels another small body crashing to his side, holding his body into a crushing hug. He feels himself mirroring the big smile his teammates are displaying on their faces. He hears a you’re the best, Youngho-hyung! over his shoulder. It feels exhilarating.

He sees Mark sitting on one of the benches along the edges of the court, scratching the chin of the cat that’s situated itself on his lap. He walks over, momentarily leaving the kids behind him to argue over if the goal even counted because Johnny was miles taller than the kid who tried defending the older kid’s team.

“You’re really good with animals,” Johnny comments when he gets close to Mark, their knees only inches away from touching as Johnny almost steps on Mark’s foot with his sandal. The cat send a glare over Johnny’s way from the sudden intrusion but doesn’t get up from where it’s settled on Mark’s thighs. Ouch. Okay.

Mark looks up at Johnny through fluttering eyelashes, chuckling softly. He doesn’t stop scratching the cat’s chin while he talks to Johnny. “My dad owns a farm around here and I go there quite a lot. That's probably why.”

“Your dad owns a farm?”

“Yeah, he does. He spends most of his time there — that’s why we didn’t see him at the garden yesterday.”

Johnny had wondered where Mark’s dad was if he was the owner of that patch of land, but ultimately didn’t ask him about it. He did meet Mark’s mom though, who wanted to pick some fruits and greeted them with a Minhyungie-ah, who’s your handsome little friend?

Mark’s mom also went to whisper something into Mark’s ear that made Mark flare up red faced, but Johnny didn’t ask him about that either since Mark had seemed a little too embarrassed, whining out an Mommyyyyy and lightly pushing her away before he grabbed Johnny’s hand for them to leave, leaving Mark’s mom in the garden alone as she laughs high and loud to herself.

They sit in silence for a little while, watching the cat in Mark’s hold enjoy the scratch it’s getting. The ruckus behind him starts slowing down and Johnny can only assume that the kids probably left and concluded that Johnny’s team won — he did score them 15 points when the other team barely got 8. Johnny reaches a hand out, petting along the nose bridge to the back of it’s head with only the pads of his fingers and he feels the cat purring underneath him, loving the affection and attention it’s getting. Mark cracks a smile at the vibration, and Johnny follows suit at the younger’s happiness.

“Did you know crows remember everything anyone has ever done to them?” Marks starts after a little bit. They take their hands off the cat when it starts to stretch, yawning as big as it’s little mouth can go. “They remember you if you’ve done anything good or bad to them. If you’re mean to them, they’ll torture you for generations, and if you’re nice to them, you’ll be protected for generations. They remember you and tell their whole family to remember you.”

“Really?” Johnny perks up at the fact. The cat gets up off Mark’s thighs and jumps down from the bench, strutting away from them. Johnny takes it as his cue to sit next to Mark.

“Yep,” Mark nods, turning over to look at him properly, “I gave a crow some food once and now it follows me around whenever it gets. You’ll probably see him soon enough.”

Johnny chuckles at the image his mind produces, a crow walking next to Mark around the village, ensuring his safety. “You should give him a name,” Johnny suggests playfully.

“I already did!” Mark beams, “his name is Peter.”

“What, like Parker?”

The slow turn of Mark’s head to face Johnny’s face accompanied with wide, frightened eyes before he breathes out a small, “how’d you know?” makes Johnny bend over himself and clutch his stomach laughing.

He hears Mark saying “No dude, seriously! How the hell did you know that?!” over his laughter, but it doesn’t die down, only amplified when Mark starts laughing along with him too. Oh God, Mark is so cute.

“But that’s why you should always be nice to anyone or anything no matter what,” Mark says when their laughter dies down, “you may forget the wrongs you’ve done but those affected always will.”

Johnny hums at Mark’s words, takes note of it in his mind.

It takes a whole week and a half for Mark to bring Johnny to his dad’s farm, explaining to him that he needs the green-light from his dad to go there — something about Mark’s dad not liking any interruptions during his work. But wouldn’t the animals be interruption enough? Johnny doesn’t question it ; his father is like that sometimes too, sometimes not making any sense to his brain. Maybe it’s an Asian father kind of thing.

"There you kids are," a gruffly voice greets them when they're near, "I was wondering how long you two were gonna take."

"Sorry dad, mom asked me get some things to prepare lunch just now,” Mark says, cute little pout evident in his voice.

Mark nudges at Johnny with his elbow, and usually Johnny would hiss at the pain on his side, but instead he bows down to the man in front of him, stuttering out a small "good morning, Mr. Lee."

He stands back up properly and Mr. Lee's calloused and rough hands immediately comes to shake his own. "What's your name, son?" He asks.

"My korean name is Youngho but my actual name is Johnny," he explains. Everyone else around here doesn't really need to know the name Johnny, but since Mark and his older brother are Canadian, and their parents lived there for a good chunk of their lives, Johnny decides to let the information free.

A harsh slap to his back startles him as Mr. Lee speaks to him again. "Alright then, Johnny-boy. You and Mark can get to the barn and feed the little calves."

Mr. Lee leaves them just like that to go somewhere else and Johnny looks over to Mark who seems unbothered, only signalling him to follow him. Johnny can only oblige as they walk closer to smaller-sized barn than what Johnny has seen on the side of the road during road-trips or movies.

The smell hits Johnny faster than he could think about it, and he immediately comes to cover his nose with his shirt. "Pee-yew, fuck," Johnny mumbles under the cotton of his t-shirt, "what is that smell?!"

Mark laughs at him, as bright as the sun that shines on them, all of his small and cute teeth on display. He goes to hit Johnny too, but the hit itself is really light — Johnny can't feel much than an ant's bite. Nevertheless, he flinches as if Mark threw a Great White at him. "That's the baby calves," he explains between laughs, "you'll get used to it soon enough."

Johnny doesn't think he wants to get used to the smell. He brings his hand down anyways, but not without scrunching his nose and trying to hold his breath. "Damn, do they always smell like that? They don't bathe?"

"They do!" Mark defends, but Johnny makes a face at him that shows he's not buying any of that, "it just smells bad because of the waste and the... the shit. It's not them, it's the barn."

Mark explains to it to him like it makes the overwhelming scent attacking his nostrils any better. Though, he may not appreciate the smell, he will nod his head along like he understands that this is the way things just are sometimes.

"I'll be back in a bit," Mark says when Johnny doesn't add in anything else, "I have to grab the milk for the calves. You should just stay here."

"Do you want me to help with that?" Johnny asks. Honestly, he's just finding any way to escape the wretched smell wafting through his nose. Johnny would really rather suffocate and die than live through the smell of all this shit again.

Mark sees right through Johnny's bluff of kindness, smacking him on the shoulder. "No, dude, it'll only take like, 5 minutes. You can go meet the calves first," he says with a giggle before running off and leaving Johnny with the stinky baby cows. He sighs. How is he going to meet the calves?

"John," a random voice calls out startles him, and an arm suddenly slinging around his shoulders make him flinch. He looks beside him in fear to see a guy who looks awfully like Mark — if only Mark had gotten a bit more of their father's genes in his features looking back at him all smug, like they're childhood friends. "Oh sorry, did i startle you?"

"A little bit..." Johnny replies honestly.

"Sorry about that," the guy chuckles, "I'm Mark's hyung, Jacob. Mark's talked about you quite a bit."

"I hope it's all good things," Johnny smiles and Jacob only laughs at it, not elaborating anything else. If Johnny can be honest, he's a little scared of what Mark has already said about him if his older brother doesn't note anything else.

With an arm still around Johnny's shoulders, Jacob brings Johnny even closer to the calves, and Johnny can only try to hold his breath as much as he can as he steps further into the barn. It's not like he can run away from Jacob's grasp. Well, he would, but he doesn't anyway.

"This one is Cupcake," Jacob points over to the calf that's walking towards them, "Markie's favorite. And it looks like she likes you," he snickers. Johnny doesn't really know if that's a compliment, but if Mark thinks this is the best calf, then he guesses Cupcake has some taste.

"I'm glad," Johnny says with a chuckle.

They talk a little bit as Jacob introduces him to each calf, and Johnny gets to know that Jacob is a year older than him ( which actually makes him Jacob-hyung now, ) and that he's now working with their father — mostly at the farm but sometimes gives a helping hand at the field.

"You know, Johnny," Jacob starts, "I'm really grateful you're here."

The statement catches him off-guard, whipping his head around to turn to the older guy. "What do you mean? Why?"

Jacob turns over to look at him, and Johnny swears he sees some look of fondness in his eyes, sparkling just a little bit even though the sun is behind him. "This is the first summer Mark has actually gotten out of the house to do things. Usually, he'd be at home studying his ass off even if there was no school," he explains, "I'm just thankful you’re making my loser of a brother take the time to actually be a kid and play around before he has to enter adulthood."

Johnny nods at Jacob's words like he understands, even though it has contradicted everything he thought he knew about Mark's character — cheerful, carefree, innocent, talkative, loud, bouncy, cute. He wants to think it's because of him, that Johnny too is changing Mark bit by bit.

"Hyung!" a familiar voice resonating behind them makes both of them turn around at the intruder — Mark, eyebrows furrowed and pouty lips, holding a whole basket full of tiny milk bottles for the calves in one of his hands. He wrestles Jacob's arm off Johnny's shoulder before grabbing at Johnny's wrist with his free hand. "What were you talking about with Johnny?!" He asks, seemingly a little mad. Johnny thinks it's so cute.

Johnny also thinks he should stop thinking like that.

Defensively, Jacob puts his hands up in surrender. "I didn't say anything! I was just introducing him to the calves!"

Mark shoots him a glare, eyes narrowed and annoyed before huffing and shooing him off, muttering something about appa needs your help with the chickens before turning back to Johnny, all bright smiles and sweet eyes. Johnny can only assume it's a sibling thing and nothing too serious from the way Jacob rolls his eyes and walk away — something Johnny has seen countless times from his own friends and their siblings back in America.

Grabbing one of the bottles of milk in his basket, Mark hands one to Johnny before taking another one for himself before setting the basket down on the dirt floor. "I'll teach you how to feed them," he smiles.

They get to work pretty quick ; Mark's loud laughter echoing throughout the barn when Johnny shrieks at Gumball's drool, almost knocking Cupcake's bottle off his hand ; Johnny's non-stop laughing when Maple's puke after being fed a bit too much almost gets onto Mark ; their howling laughs surely being heard from outside of the barn when they try to shoot milk out of the bottles at each other while trying to dodge the other's attacks.

It feels so liberating to have as much fun as he is having, even in a farm. They're acting like kids — Mark makes him feel like a kid.

Mark makes him feel free.

When they get back to Johnny's grandparents' house smelling like the farm, his grandmother yells at them for bringing the smell into the house — You two boys get in the shower now!

With damp hair and fresh new clothes in front of the TV, Mark whispers to Johnny with a shy smile. "I'll bring you to the farm again when my dad lets me back."

Johnny most definitely doesn't want to go to the farm again.

A month into the trip, Johnny and his friends finally put the time and effort to videocall and update their lives. It's afternoon over in Illinois while it’s pitch-black midnight in Korea.

“Dude, that must suck. I’m so sorry,” Johnny says after listening to AJ recapping to him how his girlfriend Amelia had dumped him in the middle of their date across town, and AJ still needed to send her home after that.

“Nah, it’s cool though John. Thanks,” AJ’s voice is cracky through his speakers. AJ never really had good internet connection — or maybe it’s Johnny’s internet connection now.

“Yo Johnny,” another one of his friends, Connor’s, voice fills his room, and Johnny nods up, prompting him to continue. “What’ve you been up to nowadays? You barely update us anymore,” he hears Connor whine and he can only laugh.

He shifts his weight on the bed, lying sideways. He’s quickly gotten comfortable in this room — this house. “Yeah bro, how’s Korea been treating you man?” David, another Korean in their group of friends ask. Johnny hears the excitement wavering in David’s voice and he laughs again.

He’s almost always laughing when he’s with his friends — this is what he missed, this is what his mom didn’t understand. His friends aren’t bad influences, they’re just a little adventurous — like him. They make him happy. He hopes his mom will see it one day.

Johnny hums, thinking about what he’s been up to the past month, but he can only see Mark in his recent memories, the younger finding a way to get Johnny out of the house almost every day.

He thinks back to their little daily adventures ; Mark bringing him to his garden ; Mark bringing him to his farm ; Mark bringing him to the night market ; Mark teaching him how to sew and crochet, even if Johnny’s fingers are a little too long and flimsy to do them properly ; Mark dragging him out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn ( actual ass-o’clock this time ) because the younger wanted to go to this breakfast place in the next village over ; Mark bringing him over by the pond in the evening to go fishing, only to find out Johnny is actually pretty good at it ; Mark bringing Johnny to the river to bathe in the afternoon, coming back home soaked and Johnny’s halmeoni as well as Mark’s mom yelling at them because they could get sick. Mark has made him more productive the past month and a half than he has in his 18 years and 5 months of living on this earth. His skin has even tanned a little bit, proof of how much he's spent outside, glowing underneath the sun with Mark.

He thinks that’s all he’s been doing, hanging out with Mark — except at dinner when he has them with his grandparents, but even then Mark joins them sometimes. It’s not like Mark doesn’t have any other friends — that’s proven false every time they go out and Mark stops by to greet and talk to the people around the village, but Johnny likes feeling like he’s the only friend Mark needs. Selfishly, he wants to gatekeep Mark and all the things he’s made Johnny do all to himself.

“Nah, I haven’t been doing much. Just been helping my grandparents around the house,” he lies through his teeth, “there’s not much to update you guys, sorry.”

“Man,” David deflates at the statement, “you’re not getting neomu kyeopta heol jinjja daebak oppa saranghae over there?”

“Man, what the fuck are you saying,” Connor’s voice speaks up.

“You wouldn’t get it white boy,” Johnny sees David’s eyes roll through the screen.

“No I didn’t, David,” Johnny says with a chuckle and a shake of a head, “I’m not oppa saranghamnida enough for all that.”

“Is your character developing though?” Malachi suddenly speaks when he’s been muted this whole call since he was at a family gathering, laughter erupting through the speakers of Johnny’s phone from the reference.

Johnny’s felt himself softening around the edges that used to be frayed with unadulterated teenage angst and fury. Mark expects a thank you every time he does something for Johnny and a please every time Johnny wants something from him, and Johnny obliges every time now, saying it like second nature when it used to be something he found cringe. His harabeoji locks him and Mark outside the house when they get back home a little too late. His halmeoni fusses over him when he tries leaving the house without proper clothes and combing his hair properly. Mark slaps him on the arm hard enough it makes Johnny scared of the younger's actual secret strength when he doesn't get his attitude in check.

“Oh shut up, Mal,” Johnny laughs along too, “that’s a load of bullshit,” he lies for the second time.

"I'm so tired, can we go back home now please," Johnny cries, placing a hand on one of the larger rocks along the pathway up the hill, panting exaggeratedly. Maybe if he acts like he's about to die of exhaustion, Mark will let him sit and rest for a second. Fake it till you make it, they say.

"Hyung, no. We're almost at the top anyway!" Mark instead tells him, grabbing the arm that Johnny's rested on the rocks to pull up and up the hill. Johnny grumbles, but follows anyway, muttering under his breath about how he's actually gonna die if he even climbs a bit more.

The hill isn't really that high, but it's definitely the highest Johnny has climbed — which isn't saying much because Johnny's never went hiking before. The flip-flops he's wearing are thin and uncomfortable to hike up with, and he feels his exposed skin ( which is basically everywhere since he's wearing shorts and a t-shirt ) getting itchier and itchier as more and more mosquitoes come to bite him. Mark is wearing the same thing but doesn't seem that bothered. Maybe he should've just listened when Mark was gonna spray some mosquito repellent on him earlier.

"Here we are," Mark announces when they reach a halt, standing tall on top of this hill Mark deemed his favorite.

And Mark wasn't wrong, the view of the village of up here is immaculate. The sun is all the way down, washing the sky with hues of pink and orange at the bottom as dark blue seeps itself into the sky, making way for nighttime. They arrived during the slight moment where the sun and moon are both visible in the sky. He takes his phone out to snap another aesthetic picture for his Instagram story highlights.

He looks down to see all the houses he's passed by in little specks that are the size of his fingerprint from where he is, most of them illuminated inside with light, families cozying up in their own houses, warmth and laughter and conversations humming through the walls. Distantly, Johnny's eyes catches on a plethora of lights emitting from a singular place, the shape of a ferris wheel and dropper being seen even this far away.

"Donghyeok had asked me to follow him to the fair yesterday," Mark brings up in conversation, pulling out the small blanket he packed inside his backpack and placing it just near enough towards the edge that they can see everything clearly but not too close that they could fall off the cliff at any given moment, "it's held at the town near here and it comes once a year during the summer. It ends next week though so if you wanted to go I could bring you tomorrow maybe."

"You declined Donghyeok's offer?" Johnny question. He's met Donghyeok about a dozen times before, a cute kid just a year younger than Mark is that gets into way too much trouble for his own good, but Johnny believes he's a good person considering the fact Mark and Donghyeok call each other best friends.

As a response, Mark only looks at him as he gestures to himself then to the fair, one eyebrow raised and eyes squinted — What did you think? Johnny can only laughs at the expression being made. "Okay, okay," he defends, "why'd you reject Donghyeokie like that?"

"Because I already planned to bring you up here tonight," Mark replies casually, smoothening out the blanket on the ground. Johnny's body heats up at the thought of Mark thinking ways to spend time with Johnny with the limited time they have until Johnny's flight back home, and he smiles, hums before he sits down on the blanket when Mark pats the space beside him.

The night sky comes quickly after them talking for just a while, and Johnny can finally see the stars clearly from here, no light pollution from the city that steals the luminosity of the stars. They're beautiful, he thinks, little specks of light in the sky that was once our only guide in this ever-growing world about a hundred years ago. Stars that make up constellations that make up stories and meaning to those who connect with it. Stars that seem to be the only needed light at night around the village. Stars that seem to always fill Mark's eyes even when it's daytime, even when they've got a roof over their head, even when all Mark is doing is watching Johnny text his friends on his phone over his shoulder.

"You graduated high school already right?" Mark asks as if he doesn't know the answer, as if Johnny hadn't told him the first time they met.

"Yeah," Johnny only replies, not taking his eyes off the scenery in front of him.

"Where are you going for college? Do you know yet?"

"Well, I've been accepted to Columbia College."

"Where is that in the States?"

"It's in Chicago."

"Oh, that's where you're from right?" Johnny nods. "It must be nice. You're close to family."

Johnny winces at the statement made. That's exactly why he kind of hated it — he was close, he didn't have an excuse to not come home and visit, he'd probably be told to just stay at home and commute to school using the family's run-down car. Colleges was supposed to be his ticket to freedom. He wasn't free.

"I guess," Johnny only shrugs, "What about you? You're gonna graduate in the next school year, where do you wanna go for college?"

"I'm not sure yet," Mark's head dips, "I wanna go somewhere good like SNU or Yonsei or Kyung Hee or Sogang but I don't know if I can make it."

"Hey, don't talk about yourself like that. You're really smart, Markie." And Johnny's not wrong, he's seen how excellent Mark is in handling problems and his halmeoni even flexed Mark's grades to him as if he's her actual grandson and not Johnny. Donghyeok also got some alone time with him and told Johnny all about how Mark was at school, always with his nose in a book, always the top of his grade, but Johnny wasn't not too sure if Donghyeok's exaggerating that because Mark just can’t be bothered to join in on the bullshit he gets up to or if Mark is actually that much of a nerd.

Mark purses his lips and shrugs, sighing as he leans back on his arms. "I wish I could be close to family when I'm older but I kind of live in the middle of actual nowhere so that wouldn't ever be possible. I'm not even sure if those universities will notice me." Johnny watches as Mark comes to face him, pretty lips going into a small pout, the lip-balm he uses glistening under the moonlight. "I just really wanna make my parents proud, hyung," he says.

Johnny’s heart clenches at that. He wants to pack Mark up into his suitcase and bring him back to America, let Mark live the life he’s always dreamed of, take care of Mark in all the ways he can, not let Mark work or think too much another day in his life, but he know if he even tries, Mark will try to kill him. He's independent. He has started this uphill battle for success since he was young, and he will achieve it with his own two hands. Utter stubborn determination. Johnny respects it, wishes he could do the same for himself. Soon, maybe.

“I know,” he hums, rubbing Mark’s back into small circles. Mark rests his head on his shoulder, and Johnny tries his best not to explode his own mind by the sheer proximity they’re in.

They sit there and talk as the sky gets darker and darker, the sun slipping away as the moon fits itself in. Mark points towards the constellations he can make out from here, retelling their tales that he's heard and learnt from Jisung, another close friend of his Johnny has had the pleasure of meeting.

Mark tells him about Perseus and Andromeda, which they can't see now in the summer, but will come back in early Autumn. Johnny would already be back in the States by then, so he makes Mark promise to send him a picture of the stars when the younger spots them later in the year. Mark laughs and lightly hit Johnny's shoulder before agreeing, vowing he will partake in his duty to update Johnny about whatever it is that Johnny will be missing out on in this small rural village while the older is in the city chasing his college degree.

For a moment, the world starts to quieten around them ; the cicadas stop singing, leaves stop bustling and rustling, even the occasional croak of a nearby toad isn't heard. Johnny looks over to Mark, and he swears up and down that he sees the constellations right there in Mark's eyes, shining and glimmering, lulling him in. Perseus and Andromeda. Johnny wants to be as courageous as Perseus. Johnny wants their story to be etched in the stars as well.

He sees Mark leaning closer to him, filling his vision with only the sight of him. Soft hair, high and sharp cheekbones, big eyes, high eyebrows, pretty lips, smooth milk skin. They breathe into each other's confines, foreheads almost touching. Johnny's eyes shift down, locking onto the younger's lips.

And just as Johnny thinks this is it, we're gonna kiss, a firework goes off in the distance, the sudden crackle high in the air bursting their delicate bubble, causing Mark to gasp and whip his head towards the direction of the sound.

The firework is bright red and orange, accompanied not long after by another firework — purple and blue — then another, and another. A myriad of fireworks cover the sky as the clock reaches midnight, sparkling the sky beautiful splashes of color. Johnny and Mark can only laugh awkwardly before they opt to just watch the fireworks from the fair go off and going back home after that, agreeing that it was late enough.

They don't speak about the almost-kiss on the way back home.

"So Youngho," his grandfather starts at the dinner table after Johnny sat down, having sent Mark off at the door, "how are you and Minhyung?"

The question catches Johnny so off-guard he catches himself reeling, eyes blown wide as his body physically jerks back. He sees his grandmother try to discreetly hold in a laugh at the corner of his eye when he comes back to reality. "Me and Mark? We're uh, we're friends..."

"Really?" His grandfather queries, both eyebrows raised like he doesn't actually believe Johnny, but what is there not to believe? "You know, I'm around the village a lot during the day," he states, like that would answer all the questions spinning around Johnny's mind at the moment.

"Yep, I know," he answers, because it's the truth. He sees his grandfather in passing a lot when he's hanging around the village with Mark, either he's at the supermarket or he's talking with his friends at a local cafe by the roadside. He waves and comes check when either his grandfather or Mark had noticed, but recently he's been the one taking initiative and coming up to greet his grandfather by himself without being prompted to.

"I see you guys walking together almost daily," his grandfather finally drops the bomb, which in theory isn't even that big but it still sends a sinking feeling down his stomach. Oh God, how much has he seen them do together? It's not like him and Mark has really done much of anything, but still! Was he there on the hill the other day? Did he see him and Mark almost kiss? Was that why he wasn't reluctant to let Johnny back into the house even when it was already midnight? Could he feel the feelings that radiated out of Johnny when he was with Mark, which was almost every waking moment at this point? Is he gonna kill him for liking the neighbour's child?

Johnny's spoonful of rice fails to meet his mouth, hanging in the air as his mouth is kept agape when his whole body shuts down and freezes. His grandmother actually lets out a giggle. He has the urge to bring his hands up to his neck and mimic choking himself, but those kinds of jokes aren't really accepted by his grandparents — he learnt that the hard way. And by hard way he means getting smacked upside the head by his halmeoni.

“Minhyung is a good kid, Youngho-yah,” his grandfather says with a sigh, and Johnny wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole right at this moment, “he’s nice, he’s kind, he’s hardworking, he’s gonna get into a good university — did you know he got all straight As on his last exam-?”

“Yeah, halmeoni already showed me."

“I already told him about that, honey,” his grandma smiles.

His grandfather lets out a sigh as if it’s something that has been burdening his mind for a while. “What I’m trying to say here is, Youngho-yah,” Johnny feels his face burning up, no way is he getting this talking to with his grandparents, “Minhyung is his parents’ only hope. His hyung got the short end of the stick and now works for their father’s farm. Minhyung has to study hard to go far to get better education and live a better life. The little guy really wants to give his family a bright future.”

He is their bright future, Johnny thinks. He never really understood that ; the fact that people have to work really hard to find better life to live, have to crawl their way out of the gutters to be able to live the life he has so freely lived all this time. Mark always tells him how lucky he’s got it, how luxurious his life looks from Mark’s eyes, and with 2 months into Mark constantly repeating it, Johnny starts to believe it, starts to trust the words Mark says. Looking back at his life through his photo gallery while late at night, he’s grateful that he’s able to do it all.

“Your appa was like that too, you know,” his grandmother says, “he worked hard to be able to fly him and your pregnant eomma to America. He wanted to be able to give you a good life.”

Johnny only nods. He gets it now.

“Listen to me, Youngho. Minhyung has a lot on his plate," his grandfather says, dropping his cutlery onto the plate to look at Johnny properly, "he needs someone that can take care and reassure him. If you think you can be that person, then be my guest. But don't keep him waiting."

He won't. He'll make sure of it.

It's been a few days since the last... conversation about Mark with his harabeoji — about a week to be exact, and he only has 3 weeks left to this trip before he has to fly back to America for school in September.

Their hands are intertwined, as it usually is now, swaying between them as they're on the way back from the next village over. Johnny had asked Mark to bring him back to that breakfast place he liked so much, and Mark had only replied with a I knew you'd liked it!

Suddenly, a droplet falls onto his skin, and another, and another, and another, and another, light droplets of water coming down from the sky above them. Johnny reaches a hand out, and surely enough, more droplets fall into his palm. They didn't notice how cloudy the sky had gotten. "It's raining," Johnny points out the obvious.

He sees Mark purse his lips. It has only rained about a few times since Johnny got here, but it's been really sunny recently for the most part — so much so that Johnny and Mark had forgone any other clothing except for tank tops, shorts and the occasional flip-flops if they were to go out, but the weather has been a tad bit too hot that they often opt to sit at home and watch whatever his halmeoni insists on watching on the TV. ( Usually some drama or variety show she's been catching up on. )

The rain became heavier and heavier before Mark could get even a single word in, drenching them from head to toe in a matter of seconds. Abruptly, Mark pulls at the hand he's already holding and runs off, Johnny ( forcibly, may he adds ) tailing off behind him with an unprompted shriek.

The rain only grew heavier as Mark tries to steer them to a shortcut home, but Johnny can't blame him for tripping on some of the rocks or almost stumbling into some of the trees since they can't exactly keep their eyes wide open from laughing so hard at their current predicament — running back home drenched in rain, yelling things out to each other because of how loud the rain is in their ears, loud laughter filling the air because they can't hear what the other is yelling about, even with their hands still interlocked together.

"Quick, Johnny, in there!" Mark screams, and Johnny only barely catches it before he sees a wooden small rest hut not attached to anything in the distance. They make a run for it, Mark pulling Johnny into the rest hut with all his strength when Johnny yells out that he can't put a break to his legs.

They laugh when Johnny comes stumbling into the hut, crashing into Mark's smaller body, causing Mark to yelp and be pushed down backwards onto the spacious seating floor, Johnny ending up on top of him, hands still holding each other as their folded arms become the only thing separating each their bodies. They laugh again when they stare at each other with wide eyes, and again when Johnny rolls off of Mark as to not crush him.

Their breathing evens out and they finally sit up, legs hanging off the edge. Johnny takes a deep breath and combs through his hair before looking at Mark who has a faint sparkle of red across his cheeks. They’re soaked, and their tank tops are stuck to their skin, turning sheer from the rainwater, wet hair clinging onto their foreheads, water droplets riveting down their skin in streaks. Even with all that, Johnny doesn’t think he’s seen anyone prettier. Johnny thinks Mark looks really pretty.

“You’re really pretty,” Johnny tells him so, and he sees Mark eye him from the corner of his eye shyly, the red heightening on his face. Mark only bows his head, trying to hide his face without actually covering it.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Mark mumbles out, and Johnny’s heart squeezes in delight so much so he thinks it could combust from the pressure. He keeps staring at Mark — smitten, and if it’s not obvious, the smile on his face probably gives him away.

He doesn’t think they’ll be going back home anytime soon, even if his halmeoni will gush over them being out in the rain again, so he lets his mind wander just a little bit.

If you think you can be that person, then be my guest, his harabeoji’s voice echoes in his mind, but don’t keep him waiting.

He wonders how obvious he has been, and wonders too if Mark’s been obvious as well but Johnny never caught on if his grandfather was the one telling him to stop beating around the bush. They’ve only got so much time left, and Johnny has to fly back in 3 weeks to go back to school in America. If he wants this, he needs to do it now.

And he really, really wants Mark.

Mark stares at him back after a little bit, “Johnny?” He breaths out, sceptical of Johnny’s insistent staring, “what’s wrong?”

Johnny inches himself closer, and closer, and closer to Mark. He’s not stupid ; he knows how to read signals and if he’s reading them all correct these past 2 months and 1 week — also with the way Mark doesn’t back up when Johnny comes so close their noses are centimetres away from touching — he’ll take all the risks and chances he has now.

“Can I?” Johnny asks as a safety precaution.

“Please,” he feels the breath Mark lets out more than he hears it, and he takes that as his cue to push himself even closer, slotting their lips against one another.

The feeling he gets when their lips finally touch makes him feel like he’s the main character of a coming-of-age movie, the noise of the rain cancelling out to make way for some romantic song. If visual effects acted as they were in real life, they’d have that shining glow around them, bright and warm to shield them from the ongoing pour of the sky. Mark’s pretty pink lips are as soft as he imagined during the sleepless moments he has at night. He brings a hand up, cupping around Mark’s jaw, and Mark slings his arms over Johnny’s, palms reaching the back of his head to push Johnny even closer than they already are.

When they pull away, cheeks flushed red and lips bright pink, they laugh again until Mark pulls him back, sneaking another kiss on Johnny’s lips. If it was up to Johnny, he never wanted it to end — the kisses, the laughter, the warmth, the love.

Maybe the character development his parents were talking about was love. He thinks he loves Mark.