#high key this is kinda garbo

[lunatens]

golden hour

word count: 1.7k

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, summer

pairing: mark tuan x gender neutral reader

song rec: i want you - shinee

“$4.72... is that enough?” you ask, biting your lip doubtfully as you look up from the pile of coins on the floor at your best friend (who looks just as doubtful). you and mark have spent the last 10 minutes tearing apart your cottage in search of every last bit of spare change you can find; the local ice cream place only accepts cash, and neither of you have any on you. couch cushions and pillows are strewn across the floor from your hunt, and now you sit on the carpet with the small pile of coins between you.

“only one way to find out,” mark says, shrugging and stuffing the coins into his pocket. “now we gotta hurry into town, it closes at nine, remember?” he says, and you gasp as you glance at the clock.

“race ya!” you say, getting up and hardly managing to pull on your sandals before you burst out of the door and fly down the wooden porch steps. you hear mark’s shouts behind you, “woah! hey, you got a head start, not fair!” (the two of you really are children) and footsteps as he chases after you, the coins jingling in his pocket. you giggle as you sprint, but end up coughing and spluttering as you run through a cloud of gnats. mark laughs as he passes you, cheekily sticking his tongue out (but smiling the whole time).

“mark, wait up!” you yell after him, pouting a little now that he’s gotten so far ahead of you (stupid gnats). he turns and laughs, teasing you, but nevertheless he waits for you to catch up anyways. you shuffle along the gravel road, an awkward half-run half-walk as you try to kick the tiny pebbles out from your shoes.

“for the record, i think this means i win,” mark says as the two of you walk now side by side. the orange sun shimmers on the surface of the lake to your left, which you can see through the little groves of trees and the occasional cottage along the shoreline.

“what, were you expecting a prize or something?” you ask, trying not to focus too hard on the way the golden rays of sun seem to light up his face as he squints to look at you, or the way he’s decided to wear a tank top to show off his shoulders and arms; even the way his hair sticks to his forehead and tiny beads of sweat drip down his (smooth and soft looking) skin is attractive. okay sure, maybe you’re in love with your best friend; maybe you have been for god knows how long. you can admit that to yourself, although even that took a while, but there’s no way you’d ever admit that to mark, lest you ruin your perfect friendship.

“yeah, maybe. i don’t know what i want it to be yet though, i’ll have to get back to you on that,” he says, voice snapping you out of your train if thoughts.

“okay,” is all you can say. as you turn onto the main street of the nearby town, mark’s trying not to let you catch him stealing glances at you. he’s trying not to think too hard about all the small details that make you perfect, in this moment and always; the sand still stuck to your skin from when you went to the beach earlier, or the little bit of sunscreen on the back of your neck you missed rubbing in, or the flyaway strands of hair plastered to you from the sticky humidity.

the bell jingles and the screen door shuts with a creak behind you as you walk into the tiny store.

“hey jaebeom,” you greet with a smile, and mark inhales sharply at your friendly wave to the cute boy behind the counter. mark’s arm brushes against yours slightly as he steps a little closer to you, and you don’t look at him but you can feel your cheeks burn at even this slight touch. jaebeom smiles and greets you back; you and mark are frequent visitors during the hot summer months when most weekends turn into road trips to your cottage—you just happened to forget all of your cash this time, apparently.

“we only have enough for one cone,” you point out, scanning the chalkboard menu as mark fishes the coins from his pocket.

“guess we’ll have to share,” he responds. you laugh nervously in response.

“what flavour do we get then?” you say, deciding not to comment on his response.

“mint chocolate?” he suggests. you raise your eyebrows at him in shock when he suggests your favourite flavour (jaebeom does the same; he knows your orders inside and out by now).

“i thought you hated mint chocolate, you always make faces at me when i get it,”

“i changed my mind,” he says matter-of-factly, and you decide not to press it further, missing the sly look jaebeom gives to mark as he begins scooping the ice cream (mark returns it with a “don’t say anything” glare).

~

“see ya later,” you call as you wave back at jaebeom, exiting the store and returning to the humid summer evening, ice cream in hand.

“let’s eat it at the bench on the top of the hill!” mark suggests. you groan at the thought of walking up the grassy hill, and there’ll probably be lots of mosquitoes, but nevertheless the bench does have a stunning view of the lake and surrounding forest. luckily it’s close by, so the ice cream doesn’t melt too much before you get there—although you shriek when a cool drip slides over your fingers, mark laughing (and blushing) as you frantically try to lick the melted ice cream from your hand. eventually you make it, flopping down on the cool wood thankfully protected by the shade of an oak tree. up here, there’s a slight breeze; it’s refreshing, and it’s enough to keep most of the bugs at bay for now.

“so, do you uh, have a thing for jaebeom or something?” mark asks you, and his out of the blue question shocks you.

“w-what?” you stutter.

“i mean he’s kinda cute, right, and you seemed pretty happy to be talking to him, and i don’t know, maybe you’d like a guy like that,” mark says, avoiding eye contact (you can see his ears though, too red to just be a sunburn).

“mark, sometimes i don’t know what to do with you,” you say, internally dying—is he jealous? the way he practically spit out jaebeom’s name seems to say so. “no, i don’t like him. not in the way you’re talking about at least. i mean sure he’s attractive and nice and all, but he’s...not exactly my type,” you say, licking at the ice cream cone.

“so what is your type, then?” mark asks, and now it’s your turn to avoid eye contact as you shrug in response, not speaking, for the word “you” threatens to spill from your lips. there’s a silence that seems to last centuries, the distant cries of seagulls carried on the wind and the gentle rustle of leaves surrounds you.

“want some?” you break the silence, holding the cone out for mark to taste. he takes the tiniest lick ever, and gives you an uncomfortable smile that’s more like a grimace you can’t help but laugh at.

“why did you pretend you liked this flavour??” you ask when you calm down.

“because it’s your favourite!!” he explains, as if it’s obvious.

“i like other flavours too, you know, we could have compromised,”

“yeah, but...it’s your FAVOURITE, as in it would make you the most happy,” he says, voice going quiet at that last part.

“well that’s...that’s really sweet of you then, mark,” you say, genuinely touched and a little flustered. you study his face silently for a moment, trying to read this strange expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“i’ve decided what my prize should be,” he says eventually. you aren’t sure when his face got this close to yours, but you aren’t backing up.

“oh? and what’s that?”

in answer, mark leans closer and presses a soft kiss to your lips; lingering a little but reluctantly pulling away sooner rather than later. you hope he can’t hear how your heart is pounding in your chest (his is too). he brushes hair from your face as his eyes stay locked on yours. you’re too focused on the moment to notice the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand. mark’s gaze is focused on yours, and he seems to be wordlessly asking you a question.

“please kiss me again mark,” you ask, although it’s more of a demand, and it’s exactly what mark was waiting for. this kiss is a little deeper; mark tastes faintly of mint and sugar and lemonade and he smells of lake water and sunscreen and the tiniest hint of your shampoo he borrowed after forgetting his (not that he’s got any complaints about smelling like you). eventually you pull away, both breathless and exhilarated.

“well then,” is all you can seem to say, and you both let out laughs of nervousness and relief.

“i know i’ve said this before, but i hope you’ll take it in an entirely new way now—although the sentiment has always been the same; i love you, y/n,” he says. how you manage to stop yourself from internally combusting you don’t know, but you’re sure mark notices how you can’t seem to contain your smile no matter how hard you try.

“i love you too mark,” you say, hesitantly pressing another soft kiss—you might have to get used to actually being able to do these things you’ve always dreamed of—to his cheek.

“also i’m getting eaten alive by bugs now, so can we head back?” you ask.

“of course,” mark says, standing up and holding out his hand to help you up.

“EW!! AUGH, that’s so GROSS!! i am so gonna throw you in the lake for that,” he whines as he holds the now very melted, sticky and soggy ice cream cone you passed him instead of your clean hand.

“catch me if you can!” you yell, giggling as you race down the hill, and mark can only watch in awe, hardly able to believe he has someone like you.