Ball's in Yourt Court 🌞 MarkHyuck [⏹]

Lookin' fuckin' excitin'

"What are you doing, Saem?"

Haechan’s voice sliced through the silence like a scalpel. His pen stilled mid-scribble, suspended above his workbook, the ink blotting like hesitation itself.

Across from him, Sehun barely glanced up from the clutter of pages spread before him on the floor. Sunlight from the small window haloed the man’s shoulder, revealing the chaos of highlighter marks and post-it notes. His response was calm, practiced.

"Just finish your exercises."

This was day three of Haechan’s self-imposed academic exile. No school, no peers, no distractions—just him, a low wooden table, two floor cushions, and a desperate will to graduate.

He wasn’t from money. Far from it. His family's home—a modest box of concrete tucked deep in the suburban veins of the city—stood like a lone witness to frugality. It was quiet here, away from the neon breath of downtown, but also far from its opportunities.

Schooling at home had been his idea. Freedom at a cost. Textbooks weren’t cheap. Tutors were worse. Still, he wanted to prove something—to himself, to the world, maybe even to his parents. He offered to get a part-time job.

They said no.

His father’s words were final, iron-wrought. “Study. Graduate. Then you can carry the weight of the world.”

And so he studied. And waited.

Mark hadn’t waited.

He had told his parents everything. The truth, raw and unforgiving. He had knelt at his parents’ feet—literally knelt—with tears burning down his cheeks and apologies seeping through the cracks of his voice.

It had shattered them.

His father’s palm had struck his face—once, hard, and with years of repressed disappointment behind it. The sound had lingered in the room longer than any apology could.

"How could you do this, Mark?"

Mark’s answer was a whisper. "I know ... I know I messed up. But please ... let me fix it."

The issue wasn’t that their son would become a father. It was the timing. Mark was still in high school. Barely prepared to support himself, let alone a child. The betrayal wasn’t in the act—it was in the recklessness.

Their wealth, their prestige—it all felt meaningless now.

Still, they did the unthinkable. They took their son, hand in hand, to meet the family of the boy he’d chosen.

Haechan’s parents had not expected this.

Mark’s mother apologized first. With a sincerity that trembled. They assured Haechan’s family that Mark would take responsibility. That a plan was in place. A small apartment. A modest salary—once he found work. No handouts. No safety net. Just accountability.

Haechan’s mother said nothing at first. Her silence was the sound of resistance.

“He’s still my son,” she said eventually, voice as thin as paper. “And I won’t hand him over like a transaction. Let him graduate first.”

The agreement was simple. They would wait. Until graduation. Until the chaos could settle.

Mark didn’t like it. But he didn’t fight it. Not because he agreed, but because he couldn’t afford to fight anymore. Not now.

So here they were. Separate homes. Separate lives. A future hanging in the balance.

And for now, Haechan had peace.

Sehun, the private tutor, finally looked up from his work. He smiled, almost cryptically.

“Curiosity doesn’t solve equations. Focus, Haechan.”

Haechan pouted like a child denied dessert. “It just looked ... exciting.”

“Trying to finish this novel.” Sehun lifted the book. It wasn’t his usual fare. Math prodigies like him didn’t lose themselves in fiction. He preferred formulas—structured, emotionless truth. Fiction, to him, was like smoke. Beautiful, but intangible.

Yet this novel was different. A story about a genius scientist crafting impossible equations—reminding Sehun, perhaps, of who he once dreamed to be.

Haechan sighed and returned to his equations—ten of them, complex enough to unravel any confidence he had left. He asked questions. A lot. Too many.

And every time he asked, Sehun sighed in disbelief, wondering why he even bothered printing the exercises in the first place.

Today’s goal? Impossible.

Just like the future they were trying to build.