Ball's in Yourt Court 🌞 MarkHyuck [⏹]

Couldn't even move a muscle

Mark Lee stood frozen across the street from the familiar brick house, his heart pounding like a war drum.

The late afternoon sun cast elongated shadows on the pavement, and still, he couldn't bring himself to take a single step forward. For days now the thought of facing Haechan had paralyzed him. Guilt, confusion, a dull ache he couldn't shake—he wore them like an invisible shroud.

He had become what he feared most. The one who walks away.

It had been nearly a week since he last saw Haechan—no texts, no glances in the hallways. Just silence. And now Mark finally understood what it felt like to be left behind by the person who mattered most.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

That afternoon just as students trickled out through the tall, iron school gates, Mark caught sight of him—Haechan. Head down, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder, moving with a kind of deliberate avoidance that said don’t look back.

Mark’s pulse surged. Without thinking, he pushed through the crowd.

Don’t let him slip away again.

"Haechan!" he called, but it was swallowed by the noise of students, chatter, footsteps.

Haechan turned his head slightly. Their eyes met.

The moment was brief. But it was electric.

And then—he turned away. Faster now. Purposeful. Like a man escaping a crime scene.

He’s running from me.

Mark pushed harder through the bodies between them. He could see Haechan's shoulders tense. He was walking too fast. Panic moved through his limbs.

Then—it happened.

Haechan’s foot caught the edge of the uneven pavement. His body pitched forward. There was no time to react.

He fell.

A sickening thud. A sharp exhale. Mark sprinted.

"Haechan!" he shouted, heart slamming against his ribs as he dropped to his knees beside the boy.

Haechan was curled on the sidewalk, his face tight with pain, one hand clutching his side.

“Ow… it hurts… ow…” His voice trembled, fractured. His lips parted as he tried—and failed—to mask the agony.

Mark reached out instinctively, his hands hovering helplessly over Haechan’s frame. “Don't move. You might’ve hit something bad.”

Haechan tried to pull away, but his body betrayed him. He winced, biting down on his lip until it turned pale.

“I didn’t… want you to see me like this…” he murmured, eyes shut against the world.

Mark’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, the weight of everything they hadn't said pressed down on both of them—like gravity, like consequence.

"I'm sorry," Mark whispered. “I should’ve never let you feel this alone.”

A pause.

Only the wind replied, curling gently around them like a question still waiting for its answer.