𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐍𝐨𝐰 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐨

Chapter 6 : Kit-Kat

The season ends with their team getting the third position. Mark and Jeno managed to get a few minutes out of the tournament but their thirst for a whole game is still intact. Nevertheless, their coach doesn’t look pleased with the outcome. And the fact that a few seniors graduated takes his angry state to a whole new level. The team looks a bit unbalanced so the coach starts bickering a few new plans for the upcoming season.

Mark swears he must be deaf or something when the coach points at him and then at Jeno before the next words leave his lips, “From now on I want you two to start practicing together. I want a good synchronization.”

He seriously prefers to be deaf.

And that’s how they end up shut-in the gymnasium at the beginning of the summer. Thoughts of a relaxing holiday long forgotten.

The situation just can be defined as awkward as hell.

Usually, Mark is the first one to come in and starts warming up. Then Jeno comes and they avoid each other as long as they can manage before one of them give up on their pride and asks to start practicing the synchronization.

One day, Mark is a bit late for practice because he stayed until late listening to Jaemin complain about how cute his crush looks with a new haircut and how his heart can’t stand such perfection —thank you Jaemin, but that’s not relevant information in my life.

Jeno is already there practicing serves. Mark plops his sport bag on a bench and cleans his face with the bottom of his t-shirt for any kind of trail from his sleep. He observes how the ball passes the net and comes off with a light bounce after touching the line at the back.

“You should use the heel of your hand for a better track—” When the sound of his own voice reaches his ears, Mark covers his mouth, realizing he said it out loud.

Shit.

Jeno's head shots in his direction, hand held up ready to try a new serve.

“I— don’t mind me,” Mark hurriedly spits and rounds, freaking out because damn — and busies himself with his bag as coverage.

There is an awkward silence that follows after his outburst before he hears Jeno talking.

“The heel you said?”

Mark looks over his shoulder and finds Jeno with the ball secured on his side, grey t-shirt a bit riled up around his hip.

“Um, yeah,” Mark replies, pushing his growing bangs aside. “Hit the ball in the middle with the heel of your hand. It’ll follow a straightest trajectory.”

Jeno looks at him sideways before trying the new information. Mark looks at the scene, arms crossed over his chest and feeling a bit uneasy — it’s too early for this shit, his brain can’t function properly.

The ball comes off with a more secure track. It’s a basic serve just to pass the bulk, they can’t ask for more.

Jeno hums in satisfaction and his eyes land on Mark. Jeno's lips tug up in a half uncertain smile. Mark gives him a thumb up, lips pressed tight, not really knowing how to react.

The atmosphere feels heavy.

Then Jeno breaks it when he adds with a sassy tinge, “Should I set it high again?”

And Mark knows he’s referring to their coordination trick. Tucking his hands on his black sweatpants, Mark walks up to Jeno and scoffs but a playful smile makes its way to his lips.

Mark thought it would be a onetime thing, but when Jeno comes up to him the next day making his ball roll away — after hitting Mark’s head— as Mark misses the ball’s path, he’s perplexed.

“Can you check my serves?”

And by that he means: can you give me more advices?

Mark blinks first because what the hell, and then nods. He stays out of the court and observes. Jeno has improved in just one day and Mark may be a bit amazed —but saves the compliments to himself. He doesn’t notice Jeno looking back at him waiting for a feedback until seconds later.

“Oh,” Mark says, still a bit out of the blue. “It was nice. I mean — you can add a few steps to make it more powerful.”

Jeno moves his hand in a negative. “No way, I barely can handle a basic one.”

“I can help you,” Mark’s eyes grow like saucers at his outburst. It’s becoming an annoying habit. He seriously needs to filter everything he says.

“Really?” Jeno asks, amused. “You don’t look like you meant it.”

Transparent. That’s what Jaemin always calls him.

“No, I mean — yeah, I don’t mind helping you out,”

Jeno chuckles. Mark’s puzzled face is way too funny. He’s taking all his willpower not to add a few remarks.

“If you insist,” Jeno's eyes have a playful glint and Mark doesn’t know what’s going on anymore. “How do I place my feet?”

Their coordination task is long forgotten as they’re too engrossed with the serves. Mark has a lot of patience thanks to his years as a captain in his old school. There were a lot of kids that haven’t played volleyball in their whole life, but Haikyuu!! made them want to play. Mark had to deal with a lot of Hinata wannabes.

Jeno still waits for Mark to yell at him at some point because he’s too afraid of getting hit in the face if his position is wrong —that yell never comes though.

They end up sprawled in the gymnasium’s floor after hours of practicing. Their t-shirts are drenched in sweat and their muscles are sore. Heavy chests come up and down as their breaths are the only sounds filling the gymnasium. They lost track of the time and it has become dark outside.

Begrudgingly Jeno gets up and ignores his legs complaining, they need to rest —but an essay is waiting for him on his desk and no one is going to make it for him. Jeno walks up to his sport bag and tosses everything in. Mark figures he’s going to leave, that’s what they always do anyway. Collect everything and leave without a word.

This time it feels different. Especially when Jeno walks next to the benches and stops when he reaches Mark’s bag. He spins around on his heels, facing it and then bends. Mark quirks a brow because all he can see is Jeno's back and he never comes near Mark’s stuff nor him but today Jeno is crossing all the lines their archenemy relationship built up during all these years. Jeno rises up and turns, lifting his hand up as a farewell —scratch another line there— before marching to the door and getting out.

Mark’s eyes follow him until he leaves the gymnasium and then hurries to the benches. There is a Kit-Kat pack placed on the top of his bag and he knows the coach is very much against it —and so is his strict diet— but it doesn’t stop a smile to form on his lips.

They’re still too stubborn to say a simple thank you.