double-barreled shotgun: 24-hour 7-eleven
Apr. 21st, 2024 10:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajayinthedark
[december]
[before] [This scene was almost the opening scene! But I wanted to save the drama of it all for later.]
When Mark texts him at four in the morning to hang out [This specific detail about Chenle, about how multiple members and JUN SEVENTEEN?? have mentioned that he'll drop everything to hang out with them, even at ungodly hours of the day, is something that really speaks to me, because I'm the exact same way. If a friend needs him, he's there. If he's needed, he's there.], Chenle doesn’t expect the Google Maps location to lead him to a vending machine outside a twenty-four hour 7-Eleven, at the edge of the city, nor does he except the first words to come out of Mark’s mouth to be, “Do you ever feel like you change yourself for the benefit of other people so much, you don’t have a personal identity beyond what other people need from you?” [Pieces of this line of dialogue, plus stuff Mark says throughout the rest of the scene, are pulled from "Child" and his Music Space commentary on it! This fic was originally from Mark's perspective, and because of that, I knew it would be a challenge making him a sympathetic character, so I did everything I could to make him as Mark Lee as possible. If readers were mad at him, I could at least find solace in the fact that they were mad at a Mark that was as close to Mark as I've ever written him.]
“Hyung…”
Chenle’s hand falls from the glass. He’s spent the past three months wishing Mark needed him again week cramming for finals, and the most sleep he’s gotten in one sitting has been in the restaurant office, after Auntie Shi caught him messing up three delivery orders back to back. His head feels like a deflating basketball that’s still being used in game. If given the opportunity, he could probably pass out for three days straight. He kind of needs to take a piss. It’s about as bad a time to ask him something deeply introspective as can get.
“What the hell?”
“Hahaha, whaaaaat? Who said that?”
“Mark-hyung,” Chenle presses, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Mark looks down at his Chucks with holes in the toes. [I'm about to sound like an insane person for a second, bear with me, but I really emphasised the whole "Mark's untied shoes" detail because while writing this fic, I did a lot of research on Christian scripture, and I became deeply obsessed with crucifixion symbolism. I didn't know how to give Mark HOLES IN HIS HANDS AND HIS FEET though, so his untied Chucks with holes in the toes, and his guitar callouses were the best I could think of. Also, Chenle is an athlete, so it's instinctive for him to pick up on untied shoes. I tie my shoes so tight, I wear down my laces in a few months. I always notice when someone else's shoes are loose, and I know other athletes do too.] Both of them are untied. He tells his Chucks and his untied laces, “Junghwa broke up with me.”
Chenle looks down at Mark’s Chucks too, wondering if they’ll tell him why he expected the conversation to be about anything else.
“She said I was too nice,” Mark continues, “that I never said no and just let her have whatever she wanted and didn’t have any personality beyond being the perfect boyfriend. And I was like, ‘Why are you breaking up with me if I was the perfect boyfriend?’ and she was like, ‘Because people pleaser is only one personality trait and you’re not giving me any of the rest.’ Which is kind of a bar, now that I think about it. But I guess I thought she was different, for real this time.”
Mark said Junghwa Baek was different back then, three months ago. Then again, Mark says they’re all different and he doesn’t regret any of them and it’s okay to give your dinner money to the homeless even if you haven’t eaten all day because it’s not depriving yourself if someone else is enjoying your privilege in your stead. [This paragrah survived all 4 drafts of this fic!]
But Chenle has the inkling that pointing out Mark’s problems isn’t the way to go, even if the three months of nothing has made him a little mean.
“You say no to me all the time,” Chenle points out, hand on the glass again. He takes his time to examine the contents, as if he isn’t going to get a bottle of Pocari like he always does. “You love telling me no.” [Mark never says "no" to anyone but Chenle. Inversely, in the party scene later, you find out that Chenle says "no" to everyone but Mark. I really like that difference between them, because they're both very introspective and very good at giving advice for abstract ideas.]
“Yeah, because you’re always on some crap.” Mark rolls his eyes. “We’re not dating, either.” He says the second part like it’s obvious, like the idea is such an impossibility, he can’t believe they’re even humouring it.
Chenle jabs in the code for Pocari so he doesn’t have to look at Mark or his Chucks. The bottle is freezing when he pulls it out of the chute. “You have loads of personality. You’re generous. You’re empathetic. You’re patient.” You’re all of those things to everyone but yourself to the extent where it scares me more than I’d like to admit, he doesn’t say.
“I’m all of those things because people told me they were good qualities to have,” Mark points out, picking a can of pineapple soda for himself. “I’m all of those things because I’m Christian.” [Something one of my Catholic friends told me is that sometimes he doesn't know if he would be as nice/good of a person as he is now if he wasn't raised Catholic and it really stuck with me.]
“Not all Christians are generous, empathetic, or patient. Donghyuck is definitely not patient.”
“Alright, well, I’m all those things because I’m a good Christian. Or trying to be, at least. Not to say that Donghyuck isn’t, he’s just—it’s different. It’s like a different manifestation of our views.” [This is also a remnant from the original Mark POV. One of the biggest points of tension between Mark and Donghyuck was their differing views on faith, which later translates to their differing views on homosexuality, but I had to cut it after I switched.] Mark shakes his head. “Whatever, that doesn’t matter. You’re just proving my point.”
“Aren’t we all just one big hot pot of change and expectations?” Chenle groans. “Babies don’t pop into the world with fully developed personalities. Everyone is influenced by everything. Is it really big enough of a deal to warrant having an existential crisis over it at four in the morning? Why are you so intent on proving to yourself that you’re some turbo piece of shit?” [I really liked this last sentence, because I think it summarises a lot of the main Mark problems TM in this fic. Mark has this preconceived belief that he's a shitbag (similar to the idea of original sin) and he exists purely to counterract his self-shitbag-isation, but he'll never feel like he's doing enough to change that because being a shitbag is so ingrained in his identity, he doesn't know who he is if he isn't a sinner.]
They lapse into silence, and Chenle is wondering if he could’ve worded his outburst any nicer when Mark murmurs, “I guess I’m worried that, like, if all I am is a mosaic of people’s expectations, I’ll never be loved because I’m never meeting all those expectations to begin with, and there will be nothing about me at the core to actually love in the first place.”
Chenle flinches from the sudden bout of honesty. He never knows what to do when Mark gets too deep into his head, especially considering how casually Mark will put himself down, and how nonchalantly he’ll move onto an inane topic with nothing more than a sheepish laugh and a transition sentence with ten filler words.
Plus, Mark’s argument doesn’t take into account them.
How Chenle has done everything to be the perfect friend to Mark and yet Mark still can’t love him in a way that matters text him back.
How Mark dropped Chenle three months ago yet Chenle still loves him calls an Uber at four in the morning to drive to a vending machine outside a twenty-four hour 7-Eleven less than a minute after Mark finally texted him back. [All of these things are undeniably bad things to do to your friend. But if these are bad things, why does Chenle still forgive him? (Well, we know why, but that's beside the point.) Mark does bad things, but his friends still love him. With that statement however, Mark thinks it's a reflection of his friends being good people, and not him, whereas Chenle recognises it as Mark having flaws but still being loveable (which is the truth).]
“No matter how hard you try to reason yourself into self-deprecation, I’m not going to agree with you,” Chenle argues. “If you wanted me to shit on you, you should’ve fucking texted me three months ago, when I was actually mad at you. I’m just disappointed in you now.”
Mark goes quiet. “…You were mad at me?”
“For getting into the relationship I told you was doomed from the start, then forgetting I exist for the duration of it, only to run back to me the moment things went as I told you they would? Are you joking?”
“She was—”
“She was different, Jesus Christ, I get it! Does that change the fact that I was right in the end? You asked me for my thoughts, I told them to you, you ignored them, and here we are, dealing with the consequences of your actions because you hate when your fucking friend knows you better than you know yourself even though the ‘person’ you think you know is some fucked up little version of Mark Lee in your brain that you only use as a punching bag!” [While Chenle is absolutely right here, 1.) he could've been...a little more tactful and 2.) there's nothing worse than someone pointing out your insecurities to you more succinctly than you've ever been able to do yourself.]
“Stop talking about my relationship—about me like I’m just another calc principle for you to prove—” [Remember--Mark thinks he's poetry. He thinks he's unknowable, because he doesn't even know himself. How does he reconcile with Chenle knowing him into the dirt?]
“Or what? Or you’ll call all the other ‘friends’ you ran away from for a girl you tried to use to fix yourself even though you’re too fucking stubborn to let go of your preconceived notion that you were born unfixable—?”
Chenle hears it before he feels it.
CRACK! [Joke moment, I watched so much WWE so I could figure out what onomatopeia to use for this, and I can still conclusively tell you I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SOUND A PUNCH MAKES. But I couldn't write PUNCH! because it felt like a Batman comic.]
It echoes through the street like thunder.
Chenle raises a hand to his face. Ghosts over the spot that starts to bloom in pain.
Before Chenle can stop himself, he marches over, yanks Mark’s collar, and growls, “Do it again.”
Mark flinches, like he’s the one that got punched, like he’s the one hurting more (he isn’t—he can’t be). “Chenle, I’m—”
“Hit me again, Mark Lee, I dare you,” Chenle snarls, “If you’re going to be a shitty friend, don’t give me this half-assed bullshit—I want more. I fucking expect more from you. If that made you feel good, fucking do it again!” [This is...probably one of my favourite lines in the fic. Not only is it the strongest portrayal of Chenle's competitive nature in this fic, it's just so visceral and raw. Chenle would never hit back, but that doesn't mean he won't Fight back in the way he knows best--by digging right under Mark's skin with teeth.]
Mark doesn’t hit him again. [Mark punching Chenle was a complete act of adrenaline/lapse of thinking. Never in a million years would Mark do that if he was in his conscious normal brain, but 4am really does a number on how you perceive yourself. 4am makes you a little uglier. I think if this had been...Jaemin or Donghyuck maybe, they would punch again. But Mark wouldn't, because ultimately, Mark knows how to tell Chenle "no".]
Under the light of the buzzing street lamp, at four in the morning, by a vending machine outside a twenty-four hour 7-Eleven, Mark doesn’t hit Chenle again.
He just shoves Chenle off, stumbles back, and stumbles away, his expression shrouded now that he’s out of the light.
He doesn’t turn around when Chenle screams, “And tie your goddamned shoes!” [Watch your step, I'm looking out for you. I'm still looking out for you, I'm always looking out for you.] Somehow, that hurts the most.
Somehow, staring at Mark’s Chucks as they recede into the darkness, is what makes Chenle’s heart feel like it’s being carved out of his body with a serrated knife.
[I was really conflicted about this scene actually. The more I rewrote it in the subsequent drafts, the more I felt like it was too melodramatic. This whole fic is way beyond me, even though it's my style and my characters and my words, the themes and ideas I portray and the way I portray them were so hard for me to grasp during the writing process, and this scene was almost my breaking point. I'd written thousands of words that kept getting scrapped, and when I finally wrote this scene for the 4th time, 10k words sunk into the fic already, Mark posted pictures of him at a vending machine in Tokyo and I just thought: this is it. This fic has to get written now. I just have to write it.]
