I'm Not Joking, Though (Markson)

Part 1

As cliché as it might sound, Jackson fell for Mark at the first sight. In one windy night of July, as he walked home crossing a deserted alley in his neighborhood, he saw someone being surrounded by what looked like three drunken hoodlums. He only saw him from the back, so he couldn't see his face. The stranger was about the same height as Jackson, but in contrast to his muscular build, the boy was so thin. He looked so frail and vulnerable that Jackson felt the strong urge to help and protect him.

However, it seemed like help wasn't needed, since the moment Jackson was about to run there, he saw the boy flew and kick the man in front of him, on his chest. The man fell hard on his back, grunting in pain. Jackson was in a daze as he watched the stranger flew around, kicking and hitting here and there, until all the scoundrels who were about two times his size sprawled groaning on the ground. It was so cool how so much strength could come out of that thin body. Even Jackson himself wasn't sure if he could beat up three hoodlums by himself unscathed.

The boy turned around, and the amazement turned into something else. Something that started to stir in his heart, as he just saw the most beautiful face he had ever seen. The stranger's face was small and pretty, with fair, pale skin, a perfectly sloped nose, the plump, natural red lips, and big, dark beaded eyes. But there was still something igneous about that angelic face that made him looked tough despite his prettiness. Maybe it was the way moonlight fell on his face that sharpened his features and made his face gleamed, radiating the glow at the same time. Maybe it was the way his rosy lips curved into a smug smirk. Or maybe it was his sharp gaze, the fire in it that could burn anyone if he wanted it to. The three hooligans had met that fate because they were too drunk to see it. And Jackson was a captive to that fire from the moment on.

Jackson found himself unable to move, stricken by the other boy. So he just watched as the stranger picked up his bag that was dropped during the fight, and left. He could only move a few minutes after the boy already disappeared from his sight. He went to bed that night, unable to fall into slumber. His mind was filled by the gorgeous stranger. The boy was truly a beauty. Not only his visage, but also his gaze, the way he moved his slender body, the strength emanated from that body, the fiery aura he exuded while still looking like an angel, everything about him was beauty. Maybe he was truly the angel of death that would be the death of him, since he was enthralled by that very angel. The angel that would never grace himself with his presence again.

He felt dejected and hopeless. He tried to forget his moonlight angel ━Jaebum cringed on the nickname when he heard it━ but he couldn't. Whatever he did, wherever he was, that bewitching face would always popped up in his mind. Jackson was charmed, smitten by the boy, like he was under a spell that couldn't be broken. He was so depressed, which was kind of rare with his cheerful personality. He felt hollow, like everything inside him had been sucked away by the angel. He just moped around for two weeks until Jaebum couldn't take it anymore and dragged him to a new bar that had just opened a short while ago. Actually he just wanted to stay holed up in his room with his imaginary form of his beautiful stranger, but when they entered the bar, he thanked God for having such a stubborn best friend. Because behind the bar, stood the real form of the person that had been persistently stayed in his head since that fateful night, skillfully mixing a cocktail with the shaker in his hands with a polite yet confident smile.

Because there stood his moonlight angel, still as stunning as when he saw him the first time it stole his breath away.

--

Sometimes, Jackson would stay at the bar past the closing time. He didn't have to be afraid of putting Mark in trouble with his boss, since Mark had once told him the boss and owner of this bar was his older brother. He would keep talking or just gazed at Mark, letting comfortable silence enveloped them as the older cleaned his tools. At first he was scared he would annoy him, but Mark never seemed upset or told him to leave. He looked fine with it, he didn't even talk to him formally anymore beside business hours.