the city is on fire

[sharkemoji]

follow up to stick + poke

Their knees knock together as they huddle together in the back of the Uber. The places where their bodies are connecting them shocks him like an electric wire every time they brush against each other. It makes him feel like he’s about to explode. Drunk and giggly, he pretends his hands aren’t shaking every time their shoulders touch.
There’s no reason for them to be this close, Mark thinks. In reality they could be on opposite sides of the back seat; there’s plenty of room. Instead, Mark is plastered against the door and Dejun is molded to his side.
Dejun is much drunker than he is, credited to the fact that he’d been at the bonfire much longer than Mark had. He’s clingy and laughing at everything Ten sends him and hurrying to show it to Mark. He’d think it was endearing if not for his anxieties over how close they were.
He doesn’t say anything but he’d only showed up at the bonfire in the first place because Dejun had asked. His voice was sweet and inviting on the phone, asking, begging, Mark why aren’t you here?

They get dropped off outside Mark’s house.
Stumbling through tipping and getting out of the car, they hold onto each other like it’s the end of the world.
(It’s not.)
The house is empty when they let themselves in, dragging their uncooperative bodies down the hallway.
(yet.)
Mark’s room is in the same state of disarray it was when he left it, clothes and books strewn across the floor. His guitar is skewed on its stand in the corner and he kicks a stray book under his bed to stop from tripping.
They fall into the bed in a heap of limbs and laughter.
Mark’s head is spinning but he can’t really find it in himself to care.
They aren’t tired, just a little past tipsy, so it’s unsurprising that Dejun pulls out the joint hidden in his pocket. It’s a bad idea, smoking after drinking is always a bad idea, but Mark has been making a lot of bad decisions lately.
They pass it back and forth and the hazy feeling falls over him again. The cloud takes over his mind and vision and if Mark felt off his axis before, this was brand new.
He barely even notices when Dejun stops passing him the joint, or when his hand slides up towards his thigh. He only noticed anything has changed when Dejun is tugging his attention towards him.
He feels like he’s moving in slow motion, yet he turns to face his best friend.
“Marky” Dejun giggles, turning to curl towards him. “You look so pretty.”
He laughs, “sure.”
“I’m serious!” He whines, genuinely, and Mark takes a moment too long to register it before it’s gone completely. “You’re so pretty, Mark Lee. Your eyes are so big and you always look so delicate.”
Mark just stares. He knows his mouth is open but in his inebriated state, his reactions are slowed. Dejun drags his hand up, caresses the side of Mark’s head. He cradles his face in his hands, draws his fingers in outlines on his cheekbones and rakes them through his hair.
Mark can’t really be blamed for what happens next.
He falls forward in slow motion. He doesn’t have time to think before he’s leaning in, in, in— They crash together.
Their lips slot together slowly, then more eagerly then not at all. The whole time Mark’s heart is pounding, practically jumping out of his chest. Dejun’s lips are soft and his mouth taste a little bit like weed but the sweet flavor of whatever mixed drink he’d been drinking at the party lingers in the background. Mark’s drawn to it, like a moth to flame, waves to shore. He tries to chase while Dejun pulls back.
“Mark,” Dejun’s voice breaks the bubble around him. Harsh and grounded. “Mark,”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out before he gets the chance to stop himself. Dejun’s hand is still on his face, heavy and warm. “I don’t know why I did that.”
Dejun’s eyes search him for a while, as if looking for something underneath. Mark knows better, has his secrets buried deep in his gut, far from his face.
“I-“ Mark starts and stops. His head is spinning and he can’t find the words he needs to justify this.
“We should go to bed,” Dejun whispers after a pause.
He nods, closing his mouth and clearing his throat. His voice is still distorted when he replies, “yeah.”
“Goodnight Mark,” Dejun says. He pulls his hand away from his face slowly, slithering across him like a snake stalking prey. He brings his hand back to his chest and finally looks away. He rolls over, slowly and cautious, like he’s afraid of startling a wild animal.
Mark’s fingers linger on the bed in between them and he hesitates before he draws them back towards himself. He rolls onto his side, back to back in his tiny little twin sized bed.
They aren’t touching, a gap split between them after the slip of the kiss. The pit in Mark’s stomach opens and if he were any less drunk he’d recognize it as fear.
He squeezes his eyes tight, forms fists with his hands close to his chest. He begs himself to sleep, begs that he will wake up and none of this would be real.
It’s only as he’s finally slipping into sleep that he thinks the wild animal Dejun was afraid of was him.