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Mark quietly closed the door and answered his phone on the second ring, throwing himself down on the bed. He could hear the sounds of the rest of their group watching a movie in the living room. “Jackson?”
“Hi.” Jackson's voice sounded strained and hoarse, just with this one, short sound, not at all like his usual, natural huskiness, and Mark was immediately worried. He didn't even have to look at the time to feel guilty about keeping Jackson up when he should have been resting, preparing for the next taxing day of filming, even though Jackson had been the one to call him, not the other way around.
“Hi,” he replied after a short pause, staring at the ceiling of his room without really seeing it. “How was your day?”
“It was fine.” The answer was expected, but not the way Jackson’s voice cracked in the middle of it as he started coughing and suddenly Mark was sitting upright again, every muscle in his body tense and ready to sprint to Jackson and force him to drink tea, wear scarves, rest his voice and take better care of himself in general, alarm rising and knotting in his chest.
Jackson, however, was in China, and Mark was not.
“I can hear you worrying through the phone,” Jackson said softly after the coughing had ceased. “It's okay, I just overused my voice today. I'll be back in peak condition tomorrow, but I'll drink an extra cup of tea to make sure.”
“Yeah,” Mark sighed, biting back a comment about how organic green tea didn't fix every problem ever. He had long since stopped believing Jackson when the younger said he was fine, because Jackson would always, always say that, even when he was so sick he couldn't stand straight. Still, Mark was unable to do anything or even to make sure Jackson wasn't lying to him with the way things were right now, so he dropped back down on the bed. He heard the sound of sheets rustling from Jackson's side and imagined the boy in a similar position, lying on his bed in his Chinese hotel room, staring at the nondescript ceiling, only that Mark could hear the other boys laughing through the thin walls of their dorm and for Jackson there was only silence. “Are they making you drink enough water?”
There was a genuine smile in Jackson’s voice when he answered. “Yeah, they are. You’d think my mom had set them on the task with the way they check every half-hour if I'm really alright. Or maybe you did? You fuss over me more than my mom does, anyway.”
Mark closed his eyes. At least there were people taking care of him over there. He knew he could usually count on He Jiong for that, but now that Jackson wasn’t recording Go Fridge or Fresh Sunday - well, he worried. He really didn't have to, though. There was something about Jackson that made everyone he met instantly fall in love with him, with his big mouth and general excitement and his incredible work ethic. People couldn’t help but care for the vibrant Hong Kong boy, and he left anyone he worked with impressed without fail.
But sometimes - sometimes Mark just missed Jackson, breathing next to him instead of thousands of miles away, close whenever Mark wanted to reach out to touch. Having Jackson curling up next to him to sleep, even though their bunk beds were too small for two people to sleep comfortably in. And sometimes that longing hit Mark like a truck, square in the chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment.
“Can we switch back to our old rooms for a night when you’re back?” Mark asked quietly, only to feel guilty about it the next moment. After all, he had been the one to request the room change back then, using different excuses from him and Youngjae gaming together to the bug thing, when really, he had just missed having a warm, breathing body in the same room at night.
It hadn’t mattered that he would have preferred for that warm body to be Jackson, because Jackson hadn't been there.
“Sure,” Jackson replied after a small moment, “if it’s okay with Jaebum. I miss you snoring in my ear at night.”
Mark huffed out a laugh before his breath caught at how much he suddenly ached to have Jackson near, cutting the laugh short abruptly, and leaving him light-headed, sucking in air.
He wanted to wrap his arms around Jackson's body, to feel the younger’s form against his chest, to bury his nose into Jackson’s soft hair and feel the boy's steady heartbeat.
“Jackson,” he asked, impulsively, “are you happy, right now?”
The pause that followed was much longer than the last, and Mark could sense Jackson’s confusion just from the way the other breathed, trying to figure out what Mark wanted, expected, to hear.
“I’ll be home in two days,” was what Jackson settled for, finally, his voice quiet and unsure, and Mark deflated, the tension leaving his body even though he didn’t know where he had been going with the question. “I can’t wait to see you, and the guys,” the younger boy added when Mark didn't react. “I miss you.”
“Yeah, we miss you too,” Mark mumbled lamely.
“Of course you do,” Jackson teased. “It’s quiet without me, isn’t it? No matter how much you used to complain about it. So much for just ignoring me- Ah, hold on a second.”
Mark, quite literally, held his breath, listening to the voices far away: Jackson’s familiar accented Mandarin that Mark could barely make out enough to understand, and a different voice, even further from the phone, and a moment later, Jackson was back.
“I have to go,” he said abruptly. “Sleep is calling to me, do you hear it? Good night, Mark, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Mark replied automatically, listening to the beeping of the already dead line, and wondered how Jackson was this much of a whirlwind, still able to pick Mark up and throw him around after all the years they had known each other.
Jackson stormed into the dorms with a familiar burst of energy, dropping his luggage where he was standing and ignoring Jinyoung’s glare in favor of pulling all of them into a giant hug one by one or two at the same time, some of them more than just once, his voice high and enthusiastic as he squished the life out of their maknae.
When it was Mark’s turn, there was a spark in Jackson’s eyes and a familiar smile on his lips, and Mark hugged him so hard he was half afraid he was hurting Jackson. Just when he was preparing to let go, Jackson turned his head the slightest bit, lips brushing against Mark’s ear, and whispered, “There, now I’m happy.”