#the ty is a fem!reader regency era and the dy is a fake dating!au

[jenoptimist]

request:

Can you maybe write something with Mark? ✨

ミ✭ WARNINGS: mentions blood, contains minor violence and briefly mentions injuries

✮ Pairing: mark x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: angst (with a happy ending!)

✮ Word count: 5.7k

♡ Yakult says: thank you so much nonie for requesting !! 💙 admittedly, it could be waay angsty-er but, well, i’m happy with it and i sincerely hope you are too! sorry it took a while for me to upload it ://

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“Hey it’s Mark– dude, shut up! Uhhh what was I saying? Oh yeah, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you whenever I can.”

“Mark? Um, Minhyung? It’s me. Y/n. Look, I know that we haven’t spoken in a long time but you said. . .”–you shake your head, as if it would miraculously banish the memory from your mind–“no, that doesn’t matter. At least probably not to you. Um, listen, if this is the Minhyung who prefers chocolate covered bananas over chocolate covered strawberries, and who told Youngho that the hideous red shirt with the blue stripes looked good on him, and who helped me count poker chips in Italy, then I really need your help. Please, please call me back.”

*

There were some moments that wished you could take back in your life. Meeting Lee Minhyung wasn’t one of them. Leaving him, however, was. It was nothing dramatic, nothing like those scenes in movies. There was no crying on either end but there was, however, heavy pleading from his side.

(In the years to come, his pleading would haunt you. The way his voice was small and how it trembled. Not to mention how he looked at you. God how he looked at you. He looked at you like he was being ripped apart from the seams.)

But you had to go. The life you two lead wasn’t a sustainable one, not anymore. Not since your older brother disappeared without a trace. Without you. And you were so exhausted. It was the bone deep kind of exhaustion that was built in layers by one too many brushes with death, run-ins with the police along with a hefty dose of the constant fear of living. How long had it been since you could roam the streets freely without the low thrum of unease?

It had been far too long for you to remember.

“You know what will happen once they notice your gone, right? It’s safer here! With me! Youngho might even come back!”

“I can’t keep doing this anymore.” You replied quietly, your grip tightening on the straps of your backpack that you hastily stuffed with essentials.

“But–”

“I’m tired, Minhyung, so tired,” you refused to meet his eyes as you said it, hating the expression he wore. “Please let me go.”

You would have offered him to come with you, the words were on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken at any moment. But you wouldn’t ask that of him. Minhyung had his parents to think about and he wouldn’t risk their lives, not even for you. And even if he had offered to join you, you would have declined for that reason alone. You weren’t going to make him choose, even as the ugly voice in the back of your told you that if you begged hard enough, he’d go with you.

“I’ll miss you.” Minhyung said as he reached for your hand and you allowed him to hold onto it, slowly meeting his eyes. His watery eyes were scanning your face as if he wanted to commit you to memory. And he probably did. You were leaving him after all. After a few more seconds of staring, he released his warm grasp on your hand and raised his own to cover his eyes. “Go,” he said before he clenched jaw tightly. “If you don’t go now, you’ll be caught.”

“I’ll miss you.” You echoed quietly and allowed yourself to look at him from head to toe, just one more time, and then you fled seamlessly into the darkness of the night.

*

Minhyung hasn’t asked any questions. He hasn’t asked why your hair is dirty and matted or why your clothes are grimy and discolored. He hasn’t even commented on the fact that you’re emitting a putrid stench–not that he would ever. Minhyung had always been too kind to say anything that would make someone feel embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, instead of saying anything, his grip on the steering wheel is tight enough that his knuckles are white. The speed that he’s driving at is concerning but then again you suppose that the way your entire body is aching is a large cause for concern, too.

You want to shut your eyes, maybe pretend that you are some place else. You could pretend that you are relaxing with Youngho at your side, telling you a funny anecdote that you’ve heard a thousand times before.

But you can’t do that.

There are loud warning bells in your head telling you that you aren’t safe, not yet. But you’re with Minhyung. This is the boy, man now, actually, that you know, no, used to know like the back of your hand. The man who was literally your partner in crime. And he called you back. He called you back. Even after all this time, he’s helping you. Surely that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

“Hey! Hey,” he says, a clear tinge of panic in his voice, “stay with me, y/n!”

“Safe with you, yeah?” Your voice comes out a little rough around the edges and slurred.

“Of course. Definitely. You’re always safe with me.”

“Need some sleep, Minhyung. G’na close my eyes, ‘kay?”

There’s a string of curses in reply as your eyes flutter close. You want to dream of pleasant things and the only way you can think to achieve that is to block out Minhyung and retrieve an old memory.

*

Youngho had Minhyung in a headlock, rubbing at his hair affectionately. You sat on the couch, laughing at their antics. The three of you were obviously still giddy from the outcome from the previous night.

It was your first job and it went smoothly. Youngho had worried tremendously and frequently spoke into your ear piece but you and Minhyung had done great. Compared to what Youngho had to do on a regular basis, it was nothing extremely dangerous. Besides, a seasoned member of the team did most of the talking so it wasn’t as if it you and Minhyung had a major role in the operation. Regardless of your role, the pay was good. Really good.

“Let’s get ice-cream!” Your brother suggested as he finally released his hold on Minhyung. His grin was wide, already making his way to the shoe rack that was positioned by the door.

You shared a pleased smile with Minhyung as you stood up and followed your brother. “Can we do a movie marathon too?”

“Absolutely!” he said once he slipped on his shoes, “we can stop by seven-eleven and by some snacks.”

Minhyung whooped loudly and you couldn’t help but beam at your brother as you looped your arm through Minhyung’s. In turn, Youngho ruffled your hair and pinched your both of your cheeks, and laughed as he dodged your lame attempt at hitting his bicep.

*

You can see Youngho laughing vividly, his eyes the shape of pretty crescents with his head thrown forward, while you and Minhyung throw bits of popcorn at each other. But then the vision starts to slip away and you desperately want to cling on to it, even as your eyes slowly open on their own accord. The brightness that spills into the room from the window causes a dull pain in them. You shut your eyes a moment later, trying to bring the dream back but it’s completely useless. The door opens just as you open them again. Minhyung’s expression changes to one of relief when he looks at you and is quick to sit by your side.

“What’s the damage doc?” You try for a light, playful tone but instead it comes out with a wince, your voice coarse with disuse.

“Worse than Mexico but better than Italy.”

You huff out a laugh that’s entirely too bitter. “Anything is better than Italy.”

Minhyung purses his lips together and nods in agreement. There’s a loud ‘smack’ that echoes throughout the room when he slaps his hands on his thighs.

“I’ll grab you something to eat.” He says as he stands up and makes his way to the door. With one last long look at you, he exits the room and leaves you alone with your thoughts.

*

Italy was as beautiful was in the movies and the pictures you have seen, and the food was incredible. You almost begged for permission to go sight seeing. Youngho would have allowed you and Minhyung to go and you knew it, however you also knew that the situation was serious. No dilly-dallying allowed, no matter how much you wanted to, or else there would be consequences.

Minhyung stealthily sent faces your way which had you clenching your hands into fists to keep you from bursting out into laughter. Your brother was doing no better, smothering his mouth with the palm of his mouth as the leader of the operation went through what needed to be prepared for the next day. The preparation and mission was relatively easy; the cash would go in the two black briefcases while the poker chips would go in the two brown briefcases. The money had to be counted numerous times, a job that was given to you and Minhyung, and the weapons would be prepared and examined by your brother and some of the others. The next day would involve going to a lush hotel where the trading of goods would occur and then you were on a flight home.

“Nine hundred and ten, nine hundred and thirty, nine hundred and forty,” Minhyung murmured as he counted the cash. You added another tally to your page once you counted another line of poker chips that equaled one thousand. “Nine hundred and ninety, one thousand!” Minhyung placed a rubber band around the cash to keep it bundled and shoved it neatly into the briefcase.

“This sucks,” you commented as he leaned back on his chair and sighed. “I keep losing count.” The tally system that you had could only help so much.

“Same,” he said, rubbing at his eyes, “should we get some gelato?”

A grin split your face, eyes twinkling. “Of course!” You answered. Then, with a frown, you added, “we should finish first.” Minhyung nodded in agreement and then the two of you began counting again, only this time with more vigor.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” Minhyung asked after he shoved a large spoonful of his cantucci flavored gelato into his mouth. The two of you were quick to count the money and purchase gelato before finding yourselves back in the hotel, sitting side by side on the tiled ground of the small balcony that connected to the room. Even though the door was closed, the two of you still spoke in low voices.

“A little bit,” you answered truthfully. Youngho already informed you that he would be giving you a gun, just in case, he said. The target practice that he’d given you and Minhyung was plenty but you still weren’t confident in your skills. “Aren’t you?” 

Minhyung nodded, his mouth in a thin line. After a moment that had you mulling over tomorrow, thoughts as quick as lightning filtering through your mind, he rolled his shoulders back and shook himself. “We’ll be fine. It’ll go well, like it always does.” He said optimistically, knocking your shoulder with his. 

-

The room was completely silent as the two people in charge from either side sat across from one another. The opposing leader was counting the money that was tucked neatly in one of the briefcases, the other three were being held by you and Minhyung. Your gaze swept from the table to the people surrounding the room. Everyone was standing as straight as a ruler and looked like they didn’t even dare breathe while they stared intensely at their opposing group. One of the women met your eye, a brow arched. The steely glint in her eyes made you shift your gaze and readjust your clammy grip on the briefcase. On your right, Minhyung moved the slightest bit towards you, his bicep pressing against yours.

With a nod from both of those in charge, you and Minhyung were waved over. No matter how many operations you were involved in, and it had been plenty by now, nervousness still overcame you. Being the target of several pairs of eyes made you swallow thickly, hand clenching onto the handle of the briefcase as if it was the only thing anchoring you to the room. Once you placed the briefcase on top of the table, you spun on your heel and made your way back to your designated position. When you turned to face the centre of the room, the money was being checked.

Chaos errupted not even a second after the briefcases were closed. The other side had taken out their weapons and aimed at your side, greed and malice painting their faces. Adrenaline flooded your system and you fumbled as you reached for the small gun that you tucked inside of the blazer your wore. Your eyes darted to where your brother was standing by the door. Or where he should have been standing because he was nowhere in signt. From beside you, Minhyung grabbed your elbow and hauled you to the direction of the door.

“We need to get out of here. Now.” Minhyung’s voice left no room for argument. You cocked your gun and nodded in agreement, still looking around for Youngho.

The path to the exit wasn’t an easy feat. You hadn’t even taken three steps when you felt a sharp pain in your shoulder. Minhyung turned as you stumbled into his back, quickly aimed somewhere behind you, his eyes sharp and his mouth thin, and then fired his own gun. From that point on, it progessively became worse and worse. Eventually, you and Minhyung, by some miracle, managed to escape the establishment. You were both extremely worse for wear, you more than him—with the amount of gashes and bullets your body now owned, it was a miracle that you were still concious.

“Youngho,” you slurred, slumped against Minhyung side as he lead the two of you the car. It was sheer luck that the streets were mostly empty. “Gotta find him.” You added, wincing as Minhyung carefully laid you on top of the passenger seat. He left the door open and left you, the telltale sound of the truck being opened and closed reaching your ears as you tried not to focus on the searing pain everywhere.

“He’s gone,” Minhyung replied and when your eyes snapped open to stare at him in disbelief, you found him rummaging through a first aid kit. The deep frown that he wore didn’t suit him. It sat strangely on his face, especially with the creases that imprinted themselves on his forehead–you wished that you could smooth them away, if you had the energy you would have said something funny to lighten the mood. “I’ll explain later, just– just let me fix you first, okay? I can’t– Not you too. Please, y/n.” He was frantically rummaging through the first aid kit, grabbing what he needed.

You weren’t going to deny him to begin with but the the pleading in his eyes packed an extra punch in the gut. Instead of saying: ‘of course you won’t lose me, you’ll never lose me. You’ll always have me.’ You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut and allowed him to work on you. The disinfectant stung and you had to clench your jaw as he stitched the majority of your wounds but you survived.

“Your turn,” You told him as you blinked rapidly, as if it would clear your slightly foggy vision. “C’mon, I’ll help you.”

“No it’s okay. I got it.” Minhyung replied but you ignored him and he didn’t even try to pick a fight as you helped him tend to his wounds. He probably would have been finished much quicker if had he done it himself but of course you were going to help him–the two of you were a team. A family. Even if it was just the two of you now, if he was to be believed. And you did believe him although it was difficult to ignore the part of you that raged and wanted to call him a liar.

Just as Minhyung settled into the driver’s seat, the back door opened and someone from your team slid in. She was panting heavily, dried red splotches covering her face like freckles. You and Minhyung traded looks, mouths pressed into thin lines as she demanded him to drive off. You were hoping to hear what his explanation about Youngho, but you knew that he wasn’t going to say anything while there was additional company.

It was later that you found out that Youngho and Taeyong had hatched a plan for the four of you and a couple of others to escape. They had been planning it for weeks and Youngho had only told Minhyung their plan the previous night while you were sound asleep. Initally you were outraged. You weren’t proud of it but you threw accussations at Minhyung and he did nothing to stop you. Then, you were angry at your brother because he didn’t inform you of his plan. Because he left you and Minhyung behind, and what kind of brother was he to do that? How dare he leave you behind when the three of you promised you would never do that to each other. Finally, once the anger left your body, sadness washed over you like a huge wave, drowning you in it. You moved as quick as you could when Minhyung opened his arms and sobbed, wailing about thw unfairness of it all. He cried quietly with you, your bodies trembling in sync.

The two of you slept side by side that night, gripping each other tightly, tangled together. The nights to follow were the same, until it became an unspoken nightly occurrence. The others thought that the two of you were weird but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, and neither could he.

*

It’s been a almost two weeks since you called Minhyung – no, Mark - for help and neither of you have discussed, well, anything. There are questions that you have that keep piling up the longer you are here with him. Questions like how he managed to escape, how long has it been since he has been free and, most importantly, how he’s been doing. Judging by the nice, spacious house that he lives in, he has been doing really good for himself but you wonder if he has the same night terrors that you do–if he wakes up in cold sweat because of nightmares where they catch him and do what they did to you but worse. Way worse.

Your curiosity is never quenched because you are too busy befriending the people he lives with. There are six of them in total and they are all really nice; they never ask you intrusive questions, make you feel comfortable and seem to genuinely want to know you. You aren’t surprised that Minhy– Mark, has found them or vice versa because there has always been something comforting and safe about him. You aren’t sure about what he has told them about his past but it’s very obvious that they all care about him and admire him deeply. And Mark? He absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent deserves it. Of course he does. You think that he deserves the world and more. It’s just. . .when you see him with Kim ‘call me Haechan, everyone here does’ Donghyuck and how they interact with each other seamlessly, you feel a nasty case of jealousy and, maybe even worse, replaced. You are mature enough to admit to yourself that the jealousy you feel is completely ridiculous along with the whole being replaced thing. Obviously he has a new best friend. Why wouldn’t he? You are the one who left him all those years ago, not the other way around. If the roles were reversed, you probably would have gotten a new best friend too.

You suppress your feelings, try not to blatantly avoid the pair when you see them together, and instead focus on trying to fit in.

Surprisingly, it works–fitting in, that is. While the main issue is still a work in progress, you get along swimmingly with them group. You go cycling with Jeno and Jaemin, learn how to speak Mandarin thanks to Renjun and Chenle, play one-on-one soccer with Jisung and get roped into what Haechan and Mark do. Before you know it, you have slotted yourself into their lives and it has been a couple of months since Mark called you back. There is evidence of your presence in every room, from articles of clothing to little knick-knacks you have collected during your stay. You don’t have a room of your own or anything, Mark had set up a futon in his room and that was that.

It occurs to you over dinner as Haechan and Jisung fight for the last slice of garlic bread. The thought that you have been with them for that long has you dropping your cutlery on your plate and leaning back on your chair, staring at your empty plate. You should probably devise a plan to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome and they’re all too kind and lovely to mention your long awaited departure to your face. Mark’s questioning eyes meet yours when you lift your gaze and you quirk the side of your mouth into a smile, shaking your head at him in dismissal. A small frown forms on his face at that so you tear your eyes away from him to the others. Jisung is smug as he purposefully chews slowly and exaggeratedly ‘mmm’s at the taste.

“I’m leaving,” you say lowly into the darkness as you lay on your futon, staring at up at the ceiling. They are the same words you said back then, too. Except this time you don’t want to go at all. As long overdue as it is, it’s hard to say the words confidently because you enjoy living here with them. “Tomorrow.” You add decisively before you can cave to your true feelings and end up staying with them forever.

“What?! No! You can’t!” Is Mark’s frantic reply. You hear him move around and then the lamp on his bedside locker is lighting up the room. When you turn to face him, he’s sitting up, facing you and staring at you with an expression that is a blend of disbelief and distraught. “I–” he falters, his eyes dropping from yours to his hands for a moment as he audibly exhales shakily. “I just got you back.” The words are spoken quietly, vulnerability spilling into it, and you hate yourself for doing this to him again.

“I know but Mark–”

“But what? You belong here, with us. With me. I can tell that you’re really happy here, y/n, so why are you saying this? Why do you need to go? Actually, where would you even go? And– And– Why are you leaving me again?” His voice is small. It trembles throughout the entirety of his words and cracks in the middle of the last question.

It feels like you’re nineteen all over again. Especially with the way he’s looking at you. It’s the same look that he gave you back then except it’s so much more worse. You avoid his eyes as you say, “I know I’ve stayed here way longer than I needed to and that you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you. There’s no way I’m risking your happiness in case they find me again. Besides,”–you swallow thickly, the next part of your sentence harder to say–“you don’t need me here.”

“That’s not fair,” although it’s still a whisper, Mark’s voice is stronger this time, the trembling gone, but still sounding terribly wounded. “You left me. And then my parents died and you weren’t there to see that I lost massive parts of myself.” He pauses, breathes deeply before continuing. “How could you think that I don’t need you here, or at all? Of course I do. I always have.”

“But you Haechan and all the others now, you don’t need me anymore.” You counter and there must be a sliver of something in your voice because Mark’s eyebrows furrow slightly. It’s clear when he has connected the dots because he says your name softly under his breath and looks at you tenderly. You flush, heat rising to your cheeks immediately knowing that he has found out how you have been feeling.

“It’s not the same,” he assures you firmly. “Haechan is amazing, they all are. They’ve taught me how to live again and confidently express myself. But you’re different, y’know? Just as amazing, of course! It’s just that we’ve been through a lot together and you played a really big part in molding me into the person I am today, and for the entire time that you were gone. . .I felt like I was missing my heart or my limb, or– or something.”

The sincerity in his voice soothes and untangles the knot that’s been weighing heavily in the pit of your stomach. You manage a small smile. “Your heart?” You repeat, teasingly, and there’s a snippet of a memory that unlocks in your brain–you, Mark and Youngho sitting in a small circle with Taeyong, Yongqin and Sicheng in a warm, sunlight room, listening to Sicheng intently as he read poetry aloud. You huff out a small laugh and, with mirth in your eyes as you look at him, your smile growing, you then follow up with, “I carry your heart with me.”

Mark, whose expression morphs from hurt, sincerity and concern to dazed before settling on a soft, sweet expression. He mirrors the mirth that you feel, a smile of his own adorning his face. “I carry it in my heart.”

Then, together, the two of you recite the next part. “I am never without it.”

The smile you wear hurts your cheeks but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Mark gestures you to his bed with a slight nod of his head and you waste no time climbing in under the covers with him, making yourself as comfortable as possible. The two of you don’t weave yourselves around one another, not like before, but Mark does grab your hand, his grip tight - although not tight enough to hurt - as if he were afraid that you’d run off in the middle of the night. You don’t blame him. What you do instead is give his hand a reassuring squeeze and then, gather the courage to ask the questions that you have been meaning to ask him for months. Mark tells you every little detail; he staged his death, he left almost a year after you and that for the most part, he is doing better. He admits that he has bad days and even worse night terrors but they aren’t as frequent as they were before. In turn, you answer the questions that he has for you, providing him with just as much detail as he gave you. By the time the two of you have stopped swapping stories, it’s early in the morning–you can tell by the slight brightness coming from the pale curtains.

“Hey Mark,” you call out quietly, not quite ready to sleep yet. Not with the remaining question you have for him. At this point, the two of you were spooning, your back against his sturdy chest with one of his arms thrown over your middle, your fingers laced through one another and his legs are flush against yours, copying how your legs fold. He hums, prompting you to continue. “Why did you call me back?”

“I told you didn’t I?” He murmurs sleepily, “Needed you. Missed you.” When the answer leaves his lips, you feel silly. He didn’t remember the promise he made you. It wasn’t a big deal–people break and forget promises all the time, so why wouldn’t he? “Besides,” he adds, interrupting your thoughts, “I promised you didn’t I?”

A lump forms in your throat and your lips quiver slightly as you feel the telltale signs of tears start to pool in your eyes. “Yeah,” you croak out, “you did.”

“Promise you and I will try our best to find your brother?” You give him an affirmative. “Good. G’na sleep now, ‘kay? Night”

“Good night.”

It takes a while for you to fall asleep although when you do, it’s the most comfortable and safest you have felt for a long while.

*

You sat glumly on the uncomfortable plastic chair, holding a bag of frozen vegetables on your swollen cheek to alleviate help the pain. Minhyung, the newbie, had rushed to give it to you the minute you limped through the door, clearly battered. That was before Youngho caught the sight of you, steered you into his room and promptly began lecturing you on the dangers of thinking you could handle certain situations on your own.

It wasn’t as if you particularly wanted to go by yourself. You would have loved if someone tagged along with you to scope out the area that you overheard some of the senior members whisper about to each other. The only problem was there was nobody here that you trusted, with the obvious exception of your older brother and his best friend, Taeyong. Unfortunately they were out doing a task that they were given so you had no choice but to quench your curiosity by yourself.

Evidently it was a mistake - which you knew now, obviously - because even with how stealthy you were, you had been caught. The ones who found you were taunting you by having a loud conversation about what they should to you. It had your heart palpitating uncomfortably, eyes wildly scanning for an exit. In the end, they tried to extract information from you by using some violent tactics–a punch or two here, a kick there and, the worst part of it all, they trailed a knife along your body, the tip of the blade extremely distinct under your clothes. When it became obvious that you weren’t going to reveal anything to them, they gave you a quick beating as a message and then let you go.

“This is why you haven’t been given any tasks yet.” Youngho said and then after a beat he added, “you’re sitting out for everything until I say so.” His tone was firm, his arms folded across his chest as he looked at you sternly.

You sputtered. “You can’t ground me! I’m totally good for action.” Your brother arched a brow at that, and even Minhyung shot you a look of disbelief. You wanted to argue but you knew it would be futile, so you gave him a quick nod.

“Good,” he walked over to you, petting your hair as he gave you a light hug so as to not bother your injuries. “Now go get some rest. Minhhyung, will you help them to their room please? I’ll grab some food.” And then he was off, leaving you with the guy you barely knew. Why couldn’t he have taken you there himself?

At first you hesistated as he stood close to you, prepared to catch you in case anything happened, but you slung an arm across Minhyung’s shoulder so that you could lean onto his side. It was an awkward walk to your room, the silence was so loud that you eventually gave in to talking to him.

“Thanks,” he hummed questioningly at you. “For the frozen veg,” you clarified, “you didn’t have to but I really appreciate it.”

You felt him shrug a shoulder, a reflex of his that you noticed while you slyly observed him conversing with the others. “It was no big deal,” he replied as he opened the door to your room and steered the two of you towards you bed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” You answered as you tried to find a comfortable position to lay down.

“Why did you go on your own? I mean, like, why didn’t you call anyone or anything?”

“Nobody I trust was free,” you told him plainly. “And besides,” you began to say as he mulled over your answer. “No-one actually answers my calls. Except for my brother and his friends.” You felt really lame for admitting that to him but it was the truth.

There was a beat of silence that stretched long enough for your statement to hang awkwardly in the air. Just as you were about to tell him that he could leave, he spoke up. “If you called me I would have answered.”

There were a million things that you wanted to say. Out of all of them, what came out was, “I don’t have your number.”

Minhyung shrugged, slightly rocking back and forth on his heels. “I could give it to you? I mean, if you want it. It’d be nice since I’ve heard we’re the closest on age here and all. We could be, you know, partners in crime or something.”

“Literally partners in crime,” you said, a small laugh escaping you at the truth of it all. You gave him a considering once over, which he seemed to fidget under. “Alright, but this means that you’ll have to answer every call I make.”

Minhyung’s mouth curled into a bright smile, excitement lighting his eyes. “I can do that.”

“Even if it’s something silly?” It was a challenge and test all in one.

“Even if it’s something silly.” He parroted back.

You stuck out your pink finger towards him and there wasn’t an inch of hesitation in him as his hooked his own around it. “It’s a promise then.”

“It’s a promise,” he agreed. When you released your pinky from his hold, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. With the bright smile still in place, he said, “I have a really good feeling about this for some reason.”

You mirrored his smile. “Me too.”