mimosa 67 (2/2)
("He didn't even say goodbye." Mark's voice is like shards of broken glass, muffled against Jaebum's shoulder. Jaebum lifts his hands up behind Mark's back apprehensively, wrapping them loosely around his shoulders. He pats Mark's back clumsily. It's one of the rare days that Mark isn't pretending everything is fine, that he's willing to admit that one third of their trio is missing, his absence like a yawning abyss.
"You know..." Mark says pensively later, after he has calmed down. They're lying on their backs side by side on an emerald green meadow, gazing up at the cloudless periwinkle sky. "I used to think he was the sky."
Jaebum turns his head slightly to study Mark's chiseled side profile, lifting an eyebrow inquisitively.
Mark laughs softly, a lovely, missed sound. "Because he gave me the ability to fly. He was the wings behind my back, the sky I soared in, and when he was gone, I became flightless."
"Maybe he's still up there," Jaebum says quietly.
Mark squints up hopefully. "You think?"
Jaebum smiles, reaching out to caress his face gently. "I think that wherever he is, he'll never stop watching over you."
The brilliance of Mark's smile makes his own eyes tear up too.)
Mark had promised not to be greedy. He had thought that he would be satisfied with just Jackson's presence by his side. He wouldn't dare to ask for more.
But Mark has been celibate for five years, and he's a young man in his prime with all the typical male urges. Jackson isn't helping with the way Mark opens his bedroom door to find Jackson splayed across his bed, wearing nothing but the smile Mark had fallen in love with more than a decade ago.
"Jackson!" Mark bellows, quickly backing out and slamming the door, collapsing against it breathlessly, his heart racing and his cock twitching in his pants with an incontrovertible hunger. "Put on your goddamn pants!" he pounds a fist on the door, groaning as Jackson's high-pitched giggles drift out from inside the room.
Mark is still cursing, trying to think of the Pythagora's theorem and recite the periodic table to calm down the growing bulge in his pants, when Jackson hauls the door open abruptly, making Mark fall backward into the room, arms pinwheeling as he shrieks.
Jackson's strong arms come up behind his back, catching him firmly. They hold him in their grip as Jackson smirks down at him, eyes flickering down to Mark's tented crotch and darkening with desire.
In a flash, Mark finds himself imprisoned against the wall by Jackson's powerfully built arms, his intense, hooded gaze making Mark's face burn, his hipbones digging into Mark's as Jackson grinds the ridge of his erection against him.
A breathless moan escapes Mark's mouth, the sight of his boxers slung low over Jackson's hips somehow even hotter than him wearing nothing.
"Ge," Jackson breathes, whining helplessly as he grabs the back of Mark's left leg and lifts his knee up to his clothed cock. He pants labouredly as he ruts sloppily against Mark's knee, his rhythm quickening, and fuck if that's not the hottest thing Mark has ever seen. He obligingly nudges his knee up, pushing it between Jackson's thighs and Jackson inhales sharply, eyes squeezed shut as he shudders to his climax, a growing spot of cum dampening Mark's boxers. It's enough to make Mark lose control, unzipping his fly and reaching clumsily into his own boxers to touch his leaking dick, pumping his hand relentlessly over it. Jackson watches him with glittering eyes, hand moving towards Mark's but Mark grabs his wrist tightly and holds him away till he strokes himself to release.
"I'm... not going to touch you," he pants, stumbling to the bathroom to wash his hand. Jackson tails him like a kite string, pouting. "Why?"
His face is flushed, his bangs slightly damp with exertion and Mark is careful not to look at him. "I don't want to hurt you," he mutters evasively, pushing past Jackson and fleeing briskly to the storeroom, locking himself up.
In the dark, dusty room, Mark buries his face in his hands and feels his walls collapsing. He doesn't know how long he can hold himself back. Every day of living with Jackson is like purgatory, but then Jackson smiles that smile, pure as driven snow, and Mark thinks it's hell in heaven.
Mark doesn't want to admit that there is another reason he refuses to lay a finger on Jackson, besides his innocence. He looks at the pile of wasted doll-like Jacksons and thinks how very fragile and frail Jackson is, no matter how tough he acts, how his system could so easily be pushed into overdrive like it once was. Mark can't lose him again. He has a special bond with this Jackson, his number sixty-seven.
Despite his inexperience, Jackson's insatiable libido seems to be unchanged, partially because of the data in the memory card and partially because, well... Mark had personally sculpted his physique and defined his urges in graphic detail. Jackson is explicitly designed and skilled enough to be classified by some as a sex doll, but there is nothing raunchy about the painstaking detail Mark lavished on his body, only the purest of love.
Jackson has abstained for almost as long as Mark, and has the raging hormones of an adolescent teen due to the whole being newly-created thing. Coupled with his characteristic lack of patience, Mark doesn't know how long he can fight Jackson off. He knows that the only thing holding Jackson back from having him is his deep love and respect for Mark, and that he will never do anything Mark doesn't consent to.
But him and Jackson living together in the same house is tantamount to trapping a starving dog with a meaty bone. Soon, one of them will devour the other. The worst thing is that Mark is no longer sure whether he's the dog or the bone.
When Mark comes out of the storeroom, Jackson is slumped against the wall outside the door, thankfully now dressed in a shirt and his own boxers, his broad shoulders looking like broken wings as he hunches into himself.
His head snaps up eagerly when Mark steps out, his eyes remorseful. "Ge, I'm sorry," he says in a small voice, hanging his head. "I don't know what came over me."
Mark's heart tightens as he crouches down to take Jackson into his arms. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."
Jackson flinches away from his touch, and Mark recoils, stung and hurt. Jackson is looking at him with equally pained eyes.
"Sorry," he whispers, voice strained. "I can't... If I touch you right now, I won't be able to control myself." His hands are clenched into fists at his side, knuckles white.
"Then don't," Mark finds himself saying.
"W-what?" Jackson's mouth falls open in shock.
"Then don't," Mark repeats, louder. As he says the words, he feels a rush of impulsive conviction. He's tired of being prudent and controlling himself and doing the right thing. He just wants to be stupid for once, stupid and reckless and lawless, the way he had fallen for Jackson against all propriety.
Jackson's eyes are shining like mica as they fix unblinkingly on Mark for so long that Mark has to remind him to blink. Jackson does, breathing a disbelieving laugh as he hitches Mark's legs up around his hips and sweeps Mark effortlessly off his feet, carrying him to his bedroom with his hands steady under Mark's ass.
Jackson lowers Mark gently onto the bed, bracing himself over Mark and gazing deeply into his eyes with undisguised, unadulterated lust, but after that he seems slightly lost, clueless as to how to take the lead. Mark laughs. No matter how confident Jackson pretends to be, Mark can see right through him. Jackson blushes a pretty pink but allows Mark to sit up and push him down instead, spreading him across the bed like a promise as Jackson follows his actions with wolfishly gleaming eyes.
Mark unwraps Jackson as slowly as a present, taking his time to unveil the nubile, ripe body that he knows so well, that he personally sculpted and chiseled. Jackson's skin is smooth and unblemished as porcelain, his exquisitely wrought collarbones drawing Mark's eyes to the birdlike heartbeat in the hollow of his throat. His pectorals are cut like glass, abdominal muscles defined as a bar of chocolate and the sinew of his biceps ripples hypnotically beneath his taut skin.
Jackson's body responds to Mark's touch with ultrahuman sensitivity, coming to life beneath Mark's fingertips as Mark's skillful fingers dance expertly over it, playing him like a piano. Mark knows exactly how to touch to make Jackson's blood sing, how to blaze a symphony over his skin.
But even though technically, Mark should know every square inch of Jackson's skin, it still feels like unchartered territory to him. Mark has done it a hundred, thousand times, but he doesn't know if exploring and rediscovering the cryptography of Jackson's body will ever lose its novelty for him.
Jackson is breathing heavily, arching his back into Mark's touch and almost keening. His arousal strains against the thin cotton of his boxers, and he gasps sharply when Mark reaches beneath the waistband to close his hand over Jackson's throbbing cock, his eyes flying open.
Jackson's eyes are so lustful and trusting at the same time that Mark wants to tie a blindfold around them. He is so hard he can barely think straight, but Mark struggles to concentrate on the most important thing: to keep the pleasure under control, to make sure not to overstimulate or overheat Jackson and make his system crash.
Jackson's fingers scrabble in the sheets, clawing at them as he erupts in little shivers and breathy moans that go straight to Mark's dick. His eyes are squeezed shut in concentration and pain, his skin flushed deliciously and Mark has never seen anything so erotic. Mark ignores his own mounting desire and continues stroking Jackson's cock, flicking his wrist over the head and running his thumb over the slit till he can feel precum leaking out. When he knows Jackson is dangerously close, he bends over him and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the tip, placing an anchoring palm on Jackson's hipbones when he bucks helplessly into Mark's mouth.
Jackson makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat as Mark moves his mouth away. Mark takes a deep breath and looks down at Jackson, his didi, his one true love, miraculously come back to life and smiling that drowsy smile up at him, eyes glassy with want. He's so precious, so unbearably dear. Mark would do anything for him.
He keeps his hand wrapped around Jackson's cock as he maneuvres with difficulty to the bedside table where the bottle of half-used lotion is kept. Mark lets go of Jackson's cock for a moment, drawing a choked noise of protest, to douse his fingers liberally with the grease. It's cold and Jackson inhales softly as Mark's hand closes around his cock again. Mark slicks up Jackson's cock, lubricating it, before straddling Jackson, aligning him at the cleft of his ass and sinking down slowly onto Jackson's erect cock, his thighs quivering. It stretches him apart, making Jackson hiss at the tightness, his hands closing around Mark's hips, fingers gripping bruises. He snaps his hips up erratically and Mark pushes himself down on Jackson's cock with difficulty, his ass finally meeting his pelvis. Jackson groans loudly and rolls his hips up into Mark, hitting a spot that makes Mark cry out.
Mark is shivering in shock and pleasure, the alien sensation of being penetrated for the first time foreign but not unpleasant. He can feel Jackson all the way inside him, thrusting so deeply that Mark feels like he's going to rip in half.
"J-jackson," Mark pants. "Touch me."
Jackson's hand obligingly moves from his hips to find his cock, closing his callused fingers around it as he continues to slam into Mark from below. It's been so long since Mark has been touched, and he comes almost instantaneously, spilling over Jackson's hand and stomach.
Jackson's eyes glint, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking Mark's cum off as he thrusts sharply up, hitting Mark's prostate and holy shit Mark thinks as Jackson explodes inside him, groaning. He had no idea this was how sensational Jackson always felt when Mark was pounding into him.
Mark expects Jackson to pull out, but in one swift move he flips Mark onto his back, hitching Mark's legs up around his shoulders as he finds another angle, growing impossibly hard again inside him. Mark breathes harshly as Jackson drives himself into him. He grabs Mark's ass with both hands and pulls Mark's hips up towards his body, making their bodies align together like jigsaw pieces with no excess space between. Mark feels heat pooling in his stomach and pressure building in his groin at being connected so deeply with Jackson, writhing helplessly as Jackson rocks into him, his punishing rhythm intensifying towards climax.
("It wasn't fair, but it was true," Jaebum says, looking out of the window. "He continued haunting all of us, even after he was gone. I didn't blame Mark, because Jackson was a hard guy to forget."
"You still think of him?" Jinyoung murmurs, and when Jaebum smiles, it reaches his eyes this time.
"Every day. It's just that I preserve my memories the right way.")
The moment Jackson is initiated to the pleasure of sex and Mark stops resisting, they start fucking like bunnies, to put it crudely. All day, every day, in every possible position they can think of. They're like a newlywed couple, unable to get enough of each other.
Mark knows that Jackson will spiral out of control if he doesn't put down some boundaries, but he's equally swept up by the hunger that seems to have possessed Jackson. For too many lonely years, it's been only him and his hand and the Gaussian blur memories of Jackson like a cherished, overexposed photograph seared on the back of his eyelids. So Mark lets Jackson have him any way, any time he pleases. The only line he refuses to cross is letting Jackson bottom.
Even though he fiercely misses the sensation of Jackson pinned beneath him, thrashing and moaning, Mark doesn't know if Jackson's body can take the pressure of being penetrated. He can't take the risk. And Mark would never admit this, but he doesn't really mind playing the submissive to Jackson. In fact, he even enjoys it. Mark would never submit to any other man, but because it's Jackson, somehow it doesn't seem so important who's in charge.
Jackson is a fast learner, an incredibly sensual and sensitive lover. He quickly finds out exactly how to crook his finger against Mark's prostate to make Mark cry out unintelligible oaths, how to circle Mark's rim till his hips are grinding down in wanton circles on Jackson's saliva-slick fingers.
"Mark," Jackson whispers reverently, eyes at half-mast and burning into Mark as his other hand strokes his own cock like Mark is the sexiest thing he's ever seen. Mark raises himself off Jackson's fingers with difficulty and goes down on his hands and knees over Jackson's cock, flicking his tongue over the head. Jackson moans obscenely, hands moving up to Mark's head to pull him down. His fingers twist in Mark's hair as Mark takes him into his mouth until Jackson's cock slaps the back of his throat. He bobs his head diligently over Jackson's cock, swirling his tongue over the shaft until Jackson shudders violently and erupts hotly and copiously down Mark's throat.
But Mark still knows all the little tricks to make Jackson come undone, to make him beg for mercy until he's sobbing Please and "MarkMarkMark --"
"Can you call me Yi-en?" Mark asks shyly one day, when they are sitting on the couch with Jackson's heavy arm slung around his shoulder. Jackson's eyes snap to his, annoyance flashing across them but his voice is silky as he says, "Why? Did he call you that?"
Mark's gaze flickers instinctively to the photograph frame on the coffee table and Jackson's arm tightens around him. Before he knows what's happening, Jackson has slammed a palm down on the photo frame, knocking it facedown and Mark is pinioned to the back of the couch by Jackson's rough grip on his shoulders, his eyes blazing into Mark's and not letting him look away.
Mark is surprised by the flare of Jackson's temper. He had deliberately omitted jealousy from Jackson's lexicon of emotional traits when he programmed him, because his possessiveness was one of the few qualities Mark didn't appreciate in the real Jackson.
But Jackson is looking at him now with unmistakably territorial eyes and Mark shivers as Jackson flips him onto his back in one swift motion, mounting him. He carelessly wrenches down Mark's sweatpants without the usual foreplay, thrusting his fingers into Mark's mouth and ordering him to suck.
Mark obediently wraps his lips around Jackson's fingers and swirls his tongue around his fingertips. Jackson inhales sharply, his eyes gleaming fever bright. "Enough," he snaps, pulling them brusquely out of Mark's mouth. His hot, throbbing erection digs into Mark's thigh through the fabric of their clothes.
Jackson opens Mark up with his own saliva-moistened fingers, breathing hard as his other hand slides roughly down Mark's body to cup his ass. Jackson spreads Mark's legs wantonly wide and undoes his own fly, thrusting into Mark's tightness and moaning as Mark clenches around him.
"Yi-en," Jackson drawls obligingly but insolently as he pounds relentlessly into Mark. "Who fucks you better, me or him?" he says low by Mark's ear, voice hoarse. Mark pants erratically as he grabs Jackson's shoulders for leverage, every thrust rocking his whole body, slamming him back into the couch and making the springs creak. He twists weakly away from Jackson's intensity, trying to push back against him with his hands and hips but Jackson overpowers him effortlessly, subduing him, dominating him.
"You," Mark gasps out breathlessly. "Always you," and the words seem to make Jackson lose his bearings, his hips stuttering and his eyes stricken and fathomless as they meet Mark's. Mark twists beneath him again and his movement draws a guttural groan from Jackson's lips as he convulses and shatters to orgasm inside Mark. Jackson collapses over him, panting, his weight knocking the breath out of Mark's lungs. Mark's hands come up tentatively over Jackson's back to stroke his feverish skin as Jackson's sated and spent breathing evens out beside his ear.
("Can I ask you a question?" Jinyoung ventures delicately.
Jaebum raises an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
"Why... why did the last research assistant leave?"
Jaebum's eyes widen with surprise, and he hesitates. "He was fired."
Jinyoung swallows. "Why?"
Jaebum shakes his head with a small smile of resignation. "He fell in love with Jackson."
"He... seduced him?"
Jaebum laughs humourlessly. "Jackson is kind of a... nymphomaniac, and he can be very charming. Once he sets his sights on a target, no one can resist him. Youngjae had been nursing this huge crush on him since college. He didn't stand a chance."
"You won't have to worry about that with me."
Jaebum laughs again, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't be too sure about that. Even I wasn't immune to his charms."
"I would never disrespect Mr Tuan like that."
Jaebum regards him, looking impressed. "You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and decent moral values. You'd be surprised at how rare that is."
Jinyoung blushes slightly at the unexpected praise. "Thank you."
They sip their cooling coffee in silence for a beat before Jinyoung remarks offhandedly, "But it seems kind of unfair to blame everything on... Youngjae?"
Jaebum shrugs, looking exasperated. "Mark wasn't stupid. He was just stupidly in love. Jackson knew that he was Mark's Achilles' heel, and wasn't above taking advantage of it.")
Jackson is... indescribable, unforgettable, one-of-a-kind. He's like a bull in a china shop, but that feisty hotheadedness is exactly what Mark loves the most about him. He likes that Jackson challenges him, provokes him, always keeps him on his toes. As Jackson grows steadily and rapidly into himself, Mark watches with a mixture of resentment and pride, holding him the way you fly a kite, letting the string out for it to climb the sky but keeping it close at the same time.
"You're such a handful," Mark scolds, but Jackson only grins unapologetically, knowing him too well to be intimidated by the indulgent warmth in Mark's eyes.
Mark can't resist spoiling Jackson, because Jackson has never failed to bring out the older brother in him effortlessly just by pouting and wheedling Hyung and Gege. Jackson knows exactly what to say to make Mark's heart melt and Mark knows that he's being manipulated but doesn't even care.
It figures that Jackson doesn't need to be taught how to flirt, Mark chuckles to himself as he watches Jackson hitting on hot chicks. He swears to God, Jackson was born with the dubious skill.
Mark doesn't mind. He can be generous because ultimately, at the end of the day, Mark's bed is the one Jackson comes back to and his arms are the ones Jackson falls asleep in. Jackson may stray, but Mark has no doubt that he will always come home to him.
At least his obedience is the same, Mark notes with satisfaction as the harmless flirting gets a bit too heated and he calls sharply, "Jackson, behave."
The two short words are enough to make Jackson fall silent, chastised as he dismisses the girl without a second glance and meekly trots back to Mark.
Still, it's not all smooth-sailing. Sometimes his insecurities get the better of him, and Mark wonders if his attempt to recreate Jackson has backfired. He longingly recalls the initial, rose-coloured days after Jackson's rebirth, when he had followed Mark around like a fawn, and feels the overpowering urge to clip Jackson's wings with the same hands that had taught him how to fly.
This intense yearning to possess Jackson makes Mark less and less certain if this is love or obssession.
("He knew," Mark says cryptically, his dreamy, mellow voice drifting through the phone.
"Knew what?" Jaebum says, confused. By now, he's gotten used to Mark's habit of making random and distracted remarks out of nowhere when he voices some fragment of his thoughts.
"He predicted that I'd try to overwrite his failings, so he forestalled me. Because he knew, Jaebum-ah. He knew that I could only see the good within him."
"Oh."
"I'll never give up on him, Jaebum-ah. He's everything to me, everything. Do you know how that feels?"
"Yes. Yes, I do.")
"Watch yourself. I can destroy you as easily as I created you, you know."
"Can you?"
"Try me."
"..."
"Don't fucking walk out when we're in the middle of a conversation -- Goddammit, don't you dare leave me again!"
"I've never left you before."
("It was such a pity. He had limitless potential, his whole future ahead of him."
"But maybe he didn't think it was a waste. Maybe that was exactly what he wanted, to devote the rest of his life to rebuilding him."
"You're right. I've never seen it that way.")
Mark's heart stops terrifyingly one day when he overhears the female interns in their lab whispering and giggling about something disturbing.
When he gets home, he storms into the kitchen where Jackson is preparing dinner, looking saccharine sweet and guileless in an apron, but Mark now knows better. He slams his briefcase onto the counter, drawing Jackson's attention.
"Oh, welcome ba--" Jackson starts, but Mark hisses, "What have you done?"
Jackson blinks. "What do you mean?"
"Come off it," Mark snarls. He's so livid, his whole body is shaking. "I heard you started dating one of the interns."
"Oh, Youngji?" Jackson says casually, untying his apron like he isn't singlehandedly sending Mark's world crashing down. "Yeah, I did."
"How could you... how could you do this to --" Mark hastily chokes back the word on his tongue, amending, "-- to her?"
"Do what?" Jackson has the cheek to look confused.
"You're a machine!" Mark shouts, relishing the way the word makes Jackson flinch visibly. "How could you fall in love with a human?" The word love burns like acid on his tongue, and Mark feels like the biggest hypocrite in the world.
Jackson's piercing eyes seem to see right through him, his cold silence judgemental. His lips twitch, a mocking smile playing at the corners.
"What does that make you then?" he says cruelly, taking a step forward. "Since you're in love with this machine."
Mark inhales sharply, stunned by the malice and contempt in Jackson's tone. He grips the edge of the counter as his face burns with shame that Jackson knows of his dirty, unspeakable feelings.
Mark feels like the most pathetic and depraved creature in the world, hopelessly in love with a dead person and now a robot who doesn't even reciprocate his feelings. He thinks of Youngji, who he's seen around the lab occasionally and is the most popular intern. She is feminine, petite, cute and bubbly, everything Mark is not. Of course Jackson would rather date her than Mark, the mad scientist, the crazy inventor in love with his android. Mark thinks of Jackson melting her with his blinding smile and teasing her with his hyena laugh and tastes something sour, a lump lodged in his throat.
"Your software is corrupted," Mark mumbles, striding across the room to Jackson. "I need to fix it."
This time, Jackson backs away, fear flickering uncertainly across his eyes. But then he squares his shoulders and meets Mark's eyes defiantly, eyes flashing with the pridefulness that Mark has always loved most about him.
But then those dark orbs soften unexpectedly, and Jackson's voice is like honey as he says caressingly, "She doesn't mean anything to me."
Seeing Mark falter, caught off guard, Jackson continues, emboldened. "You know I'm yours, gege."
His voice is deceptively silken, his eyes inscrutable as Mark searches them. Mark's stomach knots. Jackson has learnt to lie, mastered the art of subterfuge and deception. Mark wants so badly to believe that he's telling the truth but he knows better than to flatter himself with delusions.
Mark curses under his breath. "Fucking brat. You're too clever for your own good," he mutters darkly.
"If you try anything, I'll leave tonight," Jackson drawls. Mark can see that death has done nothing to blunt his sharp tongue.
He growls. "Are you threatening me?"
Swiftly, he closes the remaining distance between them, and deals an expertly-aimed blow to the base of Jackson's spine.
Jackson crumples instantly and Mark catches his boneless form in his arms just before he hits the ground.
When Jackson wakes up, Mark is leaning over him. "Don't ever forget who you belong to," he warns, the softness of his eyes betraying the steeliness of the words.
Jackson struggles weakly to sit up, but Mark doesn't touch him, getting to his feet.
"Where are you going?" Jackson says shrilly, and Mark turns with a small sad smile.
"I'm leaving."
"What?" Jackson breathes, stunned.
Mark shrugs and laughs hollowly. "You don't need me anymore. I'm just holding you back."
"I need you," Jackson babbles, latching onto his leg and clutching his thigh needily.
Mark simply shakes off his grasp and looks at him kindly. "You'll be fine, baobei," he says, voice soft as feathers as he runs a hand through Jackson's hair.
"I thought you said you loved me," Jackson whines piteously, tears welling up in his eyes.
Mark shakes his head regretfully. "I was just using you as a substitute."
The blood drains from Jackson's face, and Mark forces himself to look right into his wounded, devastated eyes to deliver the final blow. "You'll never be as good as him."
("I lied," Mark confesses, finally falling to pieces on the couch in Jaebum's apartment. "He isn't as good. He's better."
Mark confides in Jaebum how disloyal and guilt-stricken he feels. "I'm forgetting him, Jaebum-ah. The texture of his skin, his temperature, his smile, the sound of his voice. I remember him a little bit less every day and this Jackson -- he's so sweet and caring and funny and considerate. He has dinner prepared when I get home and washes the dishes after we eat and he doesn't leave the faucet running or his hair clogging up the bathroom sink. He's perfect and I... I can't stop thinking about him.")
"You betrayed me. How did you become so weak, so... human? I'm disappointed in you."
"It's all your fault. You made me like this. You made me human with your stupid smile and your stupid eyes and your stupid tears that could melt even a heart of chrome."
("Mark's research on the subject contributed to great advances in technology in the field of android construction. Many aspiring scientists travelled from all around the world, hoping he would take them as his students. He received staggering offers of up to millions for his prototype. There were so many broken hearts, so many people who would move mountains just to see their beloved living and breathing again.
But the only one Mark ever took as his disciple was a young engineer from Thailand, Yugyeom. Since his childhood friend Kunpimook passed away, he had spent more than a decade trying to construct his robotic twin. Finally, miraculously, he managed to succeed with Mark's help. They both flew back to Thailand, but we still keep in contact.")
And Mark thinks that they're like two satellites spinning through the lonely sky, in their solitary orbits. But once in a blue, blue moon, their trajectories intersect, like parallel lines converging.
It's been six years since Jackson passed away, but Mark still feels like there's a piece of him missing. Jackson was his other half, his better half. Sometimes Mark thinks that he was the one who was Jackson's shadow. That would explain why when Jackson was ripped away from him, Mark felt untethered, no longer anchored by gravity.
(The door of the office creaks open, startling Jinyoung and interrupting the cozy atmosphere that has settled between them like fine dust. He turns, jaw dropping to see Mark Tuan in the flesh, standing in the doorway and looking sheepish.
"Am I intruding?"
"N-not at all!" Jinyoung hurriedly assures, standing up and bowing earnestly. "It's so cool to finally meet you! You're my idol," he gushes, then realizes how much like a teenage boy he sounds and struggles to recover his composure. "My name is Park Jinyoung and I'm here to interview for the position of research assistant."
Mark looks taken aback by his excitement, and Jaebum looks a little miffed for some reason. "Don't drool on yourself now," he grumbles under his breath, and Jinyoung blushes, discreetly moving his hand to his mouth to check for excess saliva.
Jinyoung avidly takes Mark in. He is wearing an identical lab coat to Jaebum, but over a cream cable-knit sweater and collared shirt. If Jinyoung had thought Jaebum was scruffy, Mark is worse, his hair unkempt and stubble unshaven. The white of his coat is grimy and creased hopelessly.
"Oh," he chuckles self-consciously under Jinyoung's scrutiny, running a nervous hand through his lank hair. "Sorry for... my appearance. I've been working on a project and haven't had time to shower in a while."
"More like a week," Jaebum says, wrinkling his nose, and Mark flushes but good-naturedly clasps Jinyoung's enthusiastically proferred hand. "Hi. How's the interview going?"
Jinyoung opens his mouth, but as he's about to answer a voice calls, "MARK!" and a young man comes tumbling headfirst into the room, with a mop of messy hair falling into his dark eyes, and the smile that transforms Mark's face makes Jinyoung's breath hitch. Because Jaebum hadn't been exaggerating when he said Mark's smile was breathtaking. If angels could smile, they might look like Mark.
Jinyoung can't take his eyes off Jackson. Mark is glowing like a whole jarful of fireflies as they banter and bicker and tease each other playfully and generally flirt shamelessly back and forth like Jinyoung and Jaebum are not in the room.
After they have finally left, hand in hand, Jinyoung sighs in hushed amazement. "So you weren't having me on. He's a walking miracle."
Jaebum smiles quietly, not taking offense. "I couldn't have made it up if I tried.")
Mark opens his eyes one morning to Jackson shaking him awake impatiently, his eyes shimmering.
"Ge," Jackson says, voice trembling. "I remembered something."
"Whaa...?" Mark mumbles blearily, still unsure of what is going on. Jackson just shakes his head in exasperation and grabs Mark's hand, tugging him off the bed and out of the room.
Mark shivers in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes as he watches Jackson overturning the living room, flipping through pages of books on the shelf and tossing CDs as he rummages through the cupboards.
"What are you looking for?" he asks, but Jackson ignores him.
"I'm pretty sure it's somewhere here --" he mutters under his breath, eyes narrowed with determination.
Mark yawns, looking longingly back at his bedroom when Jackson yells, "AHA!" making him jump out of his skin. He swivels back to see Jackson's face flushed with excitement as he clutches a tiny thumbdrive aloft. Mark's heart skips a beat.
"What's that?" he asks slowly, and Jackson's face softens as he finally looks at Mark.
"Last night, I had a dream," he says hushedly. "I dreamt that there was a thumbdrive, hidden right there." He points to the mess of shelves and cupboards.
Mark's heart is roaring in his ears. "What's inside?"
Jackson smiles shakily, wide eyes looking equally terrified and thrilled as Mark feels. "I guess we'll see."
Mark inserts the drive into his computer after connecting it to the flatscreen plasma TV in the living room. Inside, there is a single video, a few minutes long. Mark's hand is shaking so badly, he can't press the play button. Jackson's warm, steady hand covers his, coming to his aid.
Mark watches in disbelief as the screen flickers to life. It's Jackson, sitting in their living room, on the very same spot of the couch Mark is sitting on now. The frame wobbles, zooming in and out as Jackson fiddles with the settings, finally settling the camera down before him and starting to talk.
"Mark... I don't know what to say. If you're watching this, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why, I don't know how, but something terrible must've happened. Something that made me... have to leave you.
Hyung, do you remember the memory card I gave you for our sixth anniversary? I'm sure that by now, you'll already have decoded the encrypted data inside. But there's something else. Inside the data, I embedded a little byte. Think of it as the second door. You've already unlocked the first. And now, you've managed to open the last.
The microchip I implanted was an unbreakable code, one nobody in the world could solve except you. You did it, ge. I never doubted you could. I'm so proud of you.
Mark, I'm so worried that I can't be beside you to take care of you. Have you been eating well? Have you been crying yourself to sleep every night? You always forget to eat when you get lost in your work. Please... take care of yourself for me, okay?
Ge, you know that I always keep my promises, right? So listen carefully now: I promise that I will come back to you one day. I don't know how, or when, but I will. Just believe me and trust me.
Remember the first time you kissed me? I was fifteen and you were sixteen and we were just two little boys in an apocalyptic love bigger than both of us. At that time, we swore that our love would change the world. And look... it has.
Gege, you are so brave, so strong. Braver and stronger than I could ever be. That's how I know, that you'll be okay without me.
Ah, it's getting late. You'll be home soon, I have to start preparing dinner. I don't even know why I filmed this video, I just suddenly had a premonition... If I tell you, I'm sure you'll say I'm being superstitious again.
Yi-en... We'll never see each other again, but we'll be together forever. I love you so, so much. Don't ever forget that, okay?"
Jackson flashes his million-dollar smile, the one that used to get Mark to forgive him anything. Mark had forgotten how splendid it was. On the screen, Jackson gets up from the couch and approaches the camera, walking closer and closer until Mark can only see part of his shirt. He bends down, and for a heart-stopping moment one of his eyes fills the entire frame. Then his palm descends on the screen and the video flickers into static, then a dead blackness, and a gasp wrenches out of Mark's throat like a limb has been torn from him.
He immediately hits the replay button with a slippery finger, cranking the volume up to maximum so that Jackson's voice reverberates in the room, echoing in his bones. The video is far too short, far too fleeting. Mark wishes that it would last forever, that he could just sit in front of this TV and watch Jackson talk for the rest of his life. Mark wishes that Jackson could've said something to absolve him, to give him closure, a magic word that would erase this whole nightmare and make everything okay again.
Gentle arms encircle his waist, and Mark can feel Jackson's warm breaths on his neck as he sits beside him, a silent sentry. Fresh tears course down his face as Jackson tightens his arms around him until he can't breathe, as he presses his lips to the crown of Mark's head and strokes his hair with exquisite gentleness, brushing his tears away carefully.
"I'm here, Mark," Jackson's voice rumbles by his ear, his recorded voice fading to white noise. "Right here." And Mark can feel Jackson behind him, in front of him, surrounding him. Jackson had always been like the air he breathed, as taken for granted, as necessary.
It's taken Mark so many years to reach this epiphany: there's no one in the world who can replace Jackson Wang. Because what Mark had loved most about Jackson were his imperfections, his impetuousness and emotional intensity, his quick temper and soft heart and sharp tongue.
And Mark is sure that he will continue loving Jackson till the end of time. Even when he's not present, his existence will always be tattooed on Mark's heart, indelible, irreplaceable.
Since the day they had met, Mark had spent his life trying to unlock the enigma that was Jackson Wang. Jackson was his labyrinth, his playground, his home. And now, Mark knows that Jackson is also his forever.
("You were in love with him," Jinyoung states. It's not a question.
Jaebum just tilts his head and smiles, but doesn't deny.
"I'd always dreamt of loving and being loved the way he did, selflessly, wholeheartedly, without self-preservation."
"Sounds to me like you were more in love with their love, than him."
"Perhaps so. What they had was magic, pure and simple. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.")
"Do you still miss him?" Jackson asks, his voice so desperately gentle that it cleaves Mark in two.
"It's okay if you do. It's okay to cry," Jackson says quietly, pulling Mark into the hollow between his chin and shoulder. Mark wonders when Jackson's mechanical warmth had become the realest thing to him in this fabricated world. If humanity were measured by one's capacity for love, Jackson would be the most human being Mark had ever met.
"Did I do the right thing?" Mark murmurs, and Jackson takes his chin, tilting his face up to look into his eyes.
"Mark," he says gravely. "You brought me to life. I wouldn't exist, if it weren't for you."
Mark thinks of the days after Jackson first left, when he had nothing in the world except excruciating regret and bittersweet memories and a handful of broken promises of forever. He thinks of the journey over the years to here and now, Jackson sitting beside him, himself but at the same time not, warm nonetheless. And maybe, all along, this warmth was all that mattered.
("Well... I guess that wraps up the interview. The job is yours if you want it."
Jinyoung hesitates, surprising himself. "I don't know if I'm... good enough," he says honestly.
Jaebum's smile is disarming. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."
Jinyoung smiles back tentatively, his heart swelling with hope. "I'll try my best."
They shake hands again, but this time Jaebum holds on a heartbeat longer.
"It's been so long since I've touched human skin," he says in wonder. "I'd forgotten how warm it was."
"Maybe I can help you with that," Jinyoung says coyly, meeting Jaebum's searching eyes with his own.
"I'd like that," Jaebum says after a lifetime of silence, breaking into his first genuine smile and Jinyoung forgets to breathe because Jaebum's smile is so wide, his eyes vanish into it and Jinyoung feels like he might just follow.
"I can't believe it's only been an afternoon," Jinyoung muses softly, looking out of the window into the orange shadows of the setting sun.
"I know," Jaebum agrees. "It feels like I've known you much longer than that."
Jinyoung frowns. "I've been meaning to ask... you look kind of familiar. Have we met before? I vaguely remember us working together on an android for a competition, forming a team called... JJ Project?"
Jaebum shakes his head. "Nope, pretty sure we haven't."
"Oh." Jinyoung tries not to sound disappointed. "Must be my imagination then."
"Maybe..." Jaebum says, and his eyes are dancing. "Maybe it is a real memory."
Jinyoung looks at him questioningly.
"A memory of the future.")
"Yi-en."
"Mmmph?"
"It's me, Jia-er. I'm home."
"Don't fool around, Jacks. I'm tired."
"Because Jackson always takes care of Mark."
"What? What did you just say?"
"I've kept you waiting."
"It's impossible. No one knows that except --"
"Wake up, Mark. Don't be afraid."
"Am I dreaming?"
"Open your eyes and you'll know."
+ this fic was very much inspired by watching the imitation game, where i was really moved by benedict cumberbatch's portrayal of a man in love with a machine ;;