Archive of Our Own

He looks down to the tray in front of him. The food looks the opposite of appetizing, the color of mashed potatoes looks more gray than light yellow. A plastic fork in his hand, he swirls the mash around. Mark takes a deep breath, and eats a forkful. It's not that bad. It kinda is, but he would rather just suck it up. 

Someone sits in front of him and lord, his heart jumps to his throat. 

"Aren't you a pretty one?" a voice says and Mark lifts his head, just to show that he isn't a pussy. It's a surprise. The boy opposite him isn't a muscled hunk with tattoo sleeves but a pretty boy. Asian, too. But the gaze is harsh and powerful, his eyes dominating and he has a smug grin on his lips. 

"What the fuck," Mark replies with a choked voice. A bad choice because the boy laughs but it's mean, so, so mean. 

"I know right," he says, the tone of his voice mocking him. Mark notices the tattoos on his fingers when the boy yanks his tray closer and takes the piece of unbuttered bread from it. Mark doesn't dare to say anything back because that was the plan - to fade into the background. 

"Don't look so scared. I'm here just to say hello," he grins, biting into the bread. It pisses him off. Mark clenches his fists on the table before moving them into his lap. 

The boy laughs, annoying. 

"Oh dear, we don't want to get you into trouble, right?" he says, obviously referring to the way Mark's cheeks are heating up from the frustration. Shut up, shut up. Anger management was why he was there in the first place, a good boy gone bad and that shit. He swallows and shakes his head. 

"Wonderful. Now, will you tell me your name, sweetie?" he asks but it's a demand. 

"Mark."

"That's fitting. Someone will mark you up, how cute!" he laughs and puts down the half eaten bread on the tray and pushes it to Mark. He bits his lower lip and stops the tray with his hands so it doesn't slide into his lap. That wouldn't be cute.

"Anyway, I'm Haechan. And me and them," Haechan nods to a table filled with other boys, "kinda rule this place. So because I'm a good person, I'm warning you to stay out of our way". 

Then he leaves and Mark is left with an uncertainty and even sweatier back. 

. . .  

The thing is that for someone who looks like Haechan, it must have been something very big and dangerous what he has done to rule the place. 

Mark lays in his bed looking up at the bottom of the upper bed. It shouldn't even be called a bed because it's basically just a piece of wood and a blanket. The room is filled with four similar bunk beds, and Mark considers himself lucky he got a lower one right next to the wall. Instead of sleeping, what he should really be doing, he is thinking about the fucker named Haechan. He wonders if that's his real name. It's none of his business but he can't stop his thoughts.

The week he has been in the juvenile hall hasn't been too bad. A couple of racists slurs, a couple of gropes and a couple of shoves here and there. It's not unbearable. 

He turns to his side and stares at the wall instead. There's cravings on it, words and drawings. He refuses to feel lonely, it's his fault he is there in the first place and a real prison will be a lot harder than this. 

A car with broken windows and a smashed hood. A man with a broken face and arm. A bloody baseball bat. 

That's how it went. A slur written on the hood, faggot. 

But Mark knows why he did it. It's all an act because where he is from, if you are gay, you might get stabbed. So it's easier to be a homophobe than kiss boys. He knows it's bad, it's really bad. People say prison is a gay man's heaven but Mark isn't really that sure. 

He should sleep. But the bed is cold and the scribbles on the wall scream death threats and eternal loneliness.

. . . 

Very much like high school, the rumors spread fast in juvy.

Apparently, Haechan's father is a drug dealer and even works with the mafia. Haechan was going to take after him but got a good amount of years in prison for a first degree homicide. And that in juvenile hall, he beat up the kid who ruled before him almost to death. And that actually the mafia has put Haechan to the prison just to get their ears to the walls, to listen. There's also a rumor that the Chinese kid, Lucas, sacrifices younger kids to Satan but Mark doesn't know if he believes it. He is reasonable, skeptical but sometimes rumors help you to keep you to keep your ground.

It's weird to think anyone as pretty as Haechan could kill a man but Mark has seen pretty strange things before too. And it's the law of the jungle, to kill or to be killed. Mark, too, would kill.

But he blames the environment.

Before going to the juvile, the toilet cleaning shift is what he had feared more than the other kids. It's what people tell horrible stories about because prison toilets aren't very clean. The opposite. Just because the place has classrooms in it doesn't mean it's any less harsh.

In a way it is but Mark likes to exaggerate.

He has the top of his uniform tied on his waist while he kneels down on the floor. Thankfully, it's just to pick some trash up and for the most of the time he can just mop the floor. While standing, of course. Mark doesn't want to get his knees dirty because that just gives the wrong idea to others.

Mark lets out a deep sigh. It's quiet in the toilets and even though Mark has never been a friend to the silence, he finds himself appreciating it. The halls are loud, the cells are and so is the every room he does something in. During nights, he can hear yells, the steps of the guards. But now it's just him and the mop and the humming of the bathroom.

Except it doesn't last very long.

Mark's heart jumps into his throat when the door slams open. As a reflex, he pulls the door of the cubicle shut so it's just him and the cleaning supplies in the small place. Mark almost holds his breath when the voices become more clear and he can make out the words. A whine.

"Don't be a bitch and shut up!" someone hisses.

"Back him into the corner," it's another voice and then there's other words, orders and questions. It must be more than four people in the room and Mark refuses to feel intimidated.

Someone throws a punch. A yelp, a thud. Mark swallows. He knows it's only a matter of time someone notices he is there and when that happens, it won't be cute.

"That's for stealing Dan's crack," another voice but this time, Mark recognizes it. It's obviously Haechan. It's stupid too, how it makes him feel in ways it shouldn't. The boy is dangerous, on another level but Mark can't help but feel attracted.

Then someone says it. That the cubicle's door is closed. And Mark can feel the blood in his veins run cold. That's it, he is going to die.

The door is pulled open and Mark's breath hitches but he tries to keep his composure. A boy he doesn't recognize grabs him by the collar of his t-shirt and yanks him out of the cubicle.

"Look who it is!" it's Haechan who laughs it aloud, again with the venom tone. He can't find any words to reply with so he ends up just to stare at him, very much with that a deer in the headlights aesthetic.

The boy lets go his shirt but Mark doesn't dare to move, to run. To kill or to be killed.

Haechan is looking at him, like he is measuring him.

"Didn't I warn you? To stay out of our way?" he says like it's a fucking joke. What a good weather! A sunny day! It's scary, it really is and Mark doesn't quite understand it. He is in trouble.

"Oh dear, what will we do now?" the way Haechan speaks is so painfully mocking, mean and dramatic. Mark opens his mouth but no words come out.

Haechan looks at him but then looks away, down to the boy on the floor. There's blood dribbling down his face. Pathetic, weak, already lost. Then the brown haired boy's gaze is back to him, smirking.

"You should finish him. Right, lovely?" he says sweetly as if Mark doesn't even have a name. To kill or to be killed so Mark steps closer and kicks.

The boy on the floor cries out when the sole of his shoe hits him in the stomach, hard. He bends over. Haechan laughs, amused, and grabs Mark by his shoulder. Apparently he is stronger than he looks because Mark almost falls over from the force of the yank.

"You can do better, can you? Show the boys you can," he encourages him. Mark feels like the prey and Haechan is the predator.

He doesn't quite understand it because there's others too, they are speaking, but they blur into the background. Mark can't hear them. He bits his lower lip and nods, that yes, I can do better. Haechan smiles smugly, almost proud and pats his back.

So Mark does it again. Kicks him hard and the boy yells.

"Shut up!" he says back, trying to ignore the way the blood is running in his veins so good, so fast. The adrenaline is burning in him. Mark leans over and lifts the boy from the ground by his collar and punches his jaw. The boy's head falls back with a weak cry. It brings some wicked satisfaction to him when a tooth falls from his mouth.

But then it's enough and the guilt is kicking in. Mark lets the boy go and he falls back onto the ground, like he belongs to the bathroom tiles. They are smeared in blood.

"Good job, newbie," Haechan says. Someone agrees with him. The guilt mixes with pride.

Before they leave, Haechan grabs him by the chin, his hold harsh and forcing.

"You have some potential in you. Don't waste it," he mutters, before spitting on his face, "fag."

It hits home but Mark doesn't show it. He is left alone to clean up the mess he has made.

. . . 

The life in juvy is pretty much a routine, as he had expected. Sleep, eat, chores, class, free time. That's what it consists of, the order changing and switching from time to time. It's manageable.

The guards aren't too bad either. Some are meaner, some nicer, some so distant in emotional level there is no way to connect.

And Mark? He is mostly alone. He has known from the start that he isn't there to make friends, just to fulfill his sentence and get out. But his plan went to places it wasn't supposed to go from the moment Mark had met Haechan.

They aren't friends. They don't even know each other. And yet when they pass by on the hallways, Haechan looks at him with that look. Like he is saying something.

Sometimes he slaps his ass and his group of friends laugh loudly at him. Mark tries to ignore it because well, it's something he has to get used to.

Mark isn't overly feminine or anything but being Korean with soft features just makes him appear weaker than most of the guys there. It's something he despises. He still considers himself strong, personality wise, he is a hard worker and strong willed. Not weak, no one's bitch.

And it's weak to feel that kind of feelings towards Haechan. It's pathetic. Mark can, and will, accept his own preferences, yes, he likes boys over girls but that's something he keeps inside his mind. Because still, he doesn't want to get stabbed.

Haechan is just so interesting. From his name to his personality and appearance, and the secrets. It's none of his business but Mark is easily interested in things. It's something deeply stuck in his personality, curiosity. 

Haechan is also fucking irritating and frustrating. Mark hates the way the boy looks at him, treats him like he is trash or a weakling. So it's kind of that he is in between whenever he wants to punch Haechan and break his face or kiss him. (It's to kill or to be killed).

. . . 

The courtyard isn't exactly pretty or very aesthetically pleasing but Mark likes it more than the rooms or the hallways. It's loud there too but at least it blends in with the sound of the wind and he can feel the sunshine landing on his cheeks on good days. Then he can close his eyes and pretend he is somewhere else, somewhere where he didn't mess up so badly. Sometimes, Mark hates himself for the things he has done, for the thing he did that got him into the jail. And when he opens his eyes, he sees others looking at him like, what is he doing? Mark doesn't mind that. It's not like he was never a cool kid in the ghetto high school he went to, either.

He prefers sitting on the ground next to the wall, leaning against it with head bent back. Mark seeks desperately for calmness, for peace because his mind seems to have a war inside on its own. It's not very easy finding calmness or peace in a fucking juvy.

Juvy reminds him of school not for only the rumors thing but for the bullies. Mark wouldn't say he was bullied in his school because everyone was an asshole there and the cases that counted bullying also needed to contain actual physical violence.

"Yo, pretty boy," he hears a familiar voice and wonders, why the fuck won't Haechan leave him alone? Mark sighs and opens his eyes just to see Haechan looking down at him. He licks his lips, subtly, and raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, princess?" Mark shoots back and for a second, it's worth it since the face Haechan makes is absolutely priceless. But he should have known better than use a name that feminizes a boy in a juvy for all of the places. Haechan's friends laugh but he looks angry for a second before it calms down to something completely else. He motions with his hand, get up. Mark shakes his head.

"Get up. I'm gonna show you who is the princess here," it's smug, again, but it's also a tone Mark has gotten used to. It's not gonna end well, he knows, but he can't back off now.

At least he can punch that annoying face of Haechan's. That makes it worth it.

So he gets up from the ground and dusts off the dirt from the back of his thighs. They are about in the same height so Mark straightens his posture a little bit more just so he can look down at him. Haechan's group of friends (can they even be called his friends? Mark doesn't know) whistle and back off a little bit.

"Let's make you the princess in distress, huh?" Haechan says and there's a look in his eyes Mark can't pinpoint. He replies to it with a strong gaze of his own.

"No, let's not because that's you," Mark says back, a mix of adoration and rage swirling in his chest.

It's not a surprise that Haechan throws the first punch.

It lands on his stomach and it hurts like hell, he has to admit. Mark bends forwards a bit before getting his shit together and punching Haechan right on his cheek. His knuckles ache.

"You fucking bitch," Haechan gasps out, holding his cheek. It's the pride in his chest again but it's covered by the pain when the other boy lunges against him and knocks him down with his body. Mark falls down to the ground and his back hits the sand, curses falling from his lips. Haechan sits down on his chest and starts punching his face.

There's blood. And that cracking sound must have been from a tooth. Mark lifts up his hands to protect himself and the pain in his face is burning, like the every cell in his body is yelling and screaming. It hurts. So he hits Haechan in the groin with his elbow, hard.

"A low blow," someone whistles and the boy on top of him actually looks like he got the air knocked out of him. Mark takes his chances and pushes the boy off, switching their position.

He gets a couple of punches landing prettily on Haechan's equally pretty face before it's back the rolling on the ground-thing and Mark is again with his back pressed against the sand. But this time around Haechan has his hands around his neck. That's it. He is going to die, Mark is almost starting to get panicky while the surrounding get more blurry and dark. He tries to punch the boy on top of him but it isn't enough.

"Sweet dreams, princess," is the last thing he hears and spit on his face is the last thing he feels before Mark blacks out.

. . .

He doesn't die. Some guards apparently had stepped in before Haechan could have finished it.

Mark doesn't understand it.

It was Haechan who told him to stay out of their way and yet he won't leave him alone. Or actually, that should have been said in past tense, Mark is convinced. Haechan won't look at him on the hallways or yell slurs or insults at him. Not even the playful pet names. He knows he should be glad that he stopped bothering him so it doesn't make sense that the feeling of longing is almost constant.

Mark's bruises ache. His whole body aches but the one in his chest is the worst and he knows it's not from the punches or the kicking.

. . .

Apart from the smell and lack of hygiene, Mark has found out that the toilets are indeed his favorite place in the whole building. That's where he is truly left alone except when someone comes in to do their business and that's why he prefers the ones in the area of the juvenile hall where not many hang out. But because of that, people also come in there to do the shady things and that stuff.

But for the most of the time it's quiet and he can be left alone with his books. He has never been a huge fan of reading but it's something to pass the time with. Mark doesn't like to be left alone with his thoughts so he prefers to fill up the space with things to do.

When he hears the door open, he gets up quickly, ready to leave. Mark has discovered leaving the most practical way of surviving.

With his luck, it's obvious it's Haechan who stumbles in. He is alone, faded bruises on his face. He still looks harsh from their fight but the toilet mirrors tell him that Mark doesn't look any better either. He is standing against the wall with the book he was reading in his hands. Haechan's walk is a little bit wobbly, his gaze moving around a lot and simply put, he just looks like he is very out of it.

"You're high," Mark states the obvious and Haechan giggles. He fucking giggles.

"I feel so good," he hums. Mark can't believe it. He takes it as his cue to leave for real but Haechan grabs him by his arm.

"You're not leaving me, angel," he says with a demanding tone but it's still so, so off. The nickname could be referring to his blonde hair like angels have or something else. He doesn't want to think about it when it's most likely about humiliation.

"Haechan. Let me go," he doesn't want to play his games. Mark looks at the other boy with an annoyed expression and Haechan just pouts, then laughs. What the fuck. Mark doesn't want to know what he is high on to act this way.

"No! No, no Haechan. It's Donghyuck," he says and taps his own chest. Still his fingers around Mark's arm. Donghyuck. That's his name. One lie down, millions more to go.

Donghyuck drags him closer by his arm and Mark is actually too stunned to move away. It's all too strange and overwhelming. Just like the other boy is. Donghyuck puts his hands on the collar of Mark's uniform and for some reason he doesn't back off. He can hear his heart beating in his ears.

And Donghyuck kisses him.

Straight on the lips. No tongue, no teeth, just his lips against Mark's.

Then he leans away and looks in his eyes while Mark is all too frozen and in shock to do anything. His feelings are a mess inside of his chest, again. Pride, guilt. He is pretty familiar with those emotions. Donghyuck slides Mark's uniform top down his shoulders, quiet and as if he is truly concentrating on what he is doing. Mark doesn't stop him even though his own hands are trembling, scared.

When the uniform is resting on his waist, so loose Mark is afraid it'll drop and pool around his ankles, Donghyuck pulls the collar of his t shirt down.

He kisses his chest. Mark doesn't understand it and has tears in his eyes blurring his vision but he blinks to force them away. Boys don't cry. He doesn't stop the brown haired boy, just stands there, shaking. Donghyuck bites and kisses, licks and laughs against his skin. It feels loving but Mark knows for a fact that it's not so he tries to block it out. It's all too confusing. When Donghyuck pulls away, he lifts the uniform up too and smiles sheepishly at him, blush on his tanned skin. It's almost so breathtaking that it hurts.

"I marked you up," he laughs and taps his chest with his palm. Mark opens his mouth but no words come out.

"I have to go," he chokes out, eventually. Mark storms out from the toilets because that was never meant to happen, this was never meant to happen. It'll only make everything worse because Mark knows how these things work. Donghyuck, or should he call him Haechan, will get scared and regret it and won't risk that Mark won't tell anyone. He will actually kill him. That's what's going to happen.

So Mark runs.

. . .

Friends help you to get through life, everyone says. Mark agrees with it since well, not many people wanna be left alone for eternity.

Mark is grateful Jeno cares enough about him to come and visit. It's strange, he admits, to look at him through the blurry glass with circular holes in it. He holds the phone by his ear and laughs but it's quite weak. Jeno is a beautiful boy with jet black hair and eyes that smile along with his blinding smile. When they were younger, he had a crush on the younger boy but that's long gone.

"How's mom?" Mark asks but he isn't really worried. She is a strong woman, never needed anyone to tell her where she should stand. Jeno smiles slightly.

"She's doing fine. Misses you. We all do," he says with his soothing voice. It's what Mark has expected but it still makes him feel the strange melancholy. He shrugs as an reply and Jeno does the same, shrugs too and laughs softly.

"How are things with you? Any cute boys?" Jeno says, whispering the latter question because he gets the deal. The thing is, Jeno is the only one who knows, really. It went like this: Mark stumbles into Jeno's house without a warning because that's what they do, and there Jeno is making out with another man. Clearly a lot older than him. Jeno freaks out and the man leaves the place before Mark even realizes it. The situation is calmed down by Mark blurting out he likes boys too. Neither of them are exclusively gay, more leaning towards bisexuality.

Mark shushes him and looks around quickly but no one is paying attention to them so he just sighs.

"Things are... alright, I guess. Like not perfect but what would you expect? Exactly," it's nice talking to Jeno again. He misses him but he won't say it. Mark knows the younger boy understands it. Jeno nods and bites his lower lip. The leather jacket he is wearing makes him look slightly badass but Mark happens to know Jeno is pretty much a softy.

"What about the other thing?" Jeno is pushing it. It makes Mark chew on his lower lip and that is enough for the other one to get it. He raises his brows, surprised.

"Are you serious?" he asks. They both know that the question about cute boys wasn't just that if there was eye candy around but if Mark had gotten involved with one.

"It's very, very complicated," he ends up saying with his voice sounding frustrated. That's what he is, frustrated and confused. He hasn't seen Donghyuck since the incident in the toilets.

"Just... be careful," Jeno sounds genuinely worried. Mark just smiles reassuringly at him like he is saying that it's fine. It's not.

. . .

It's like Donghyuck, Haechan, whatever, has disappeared completely.

Mark doesn't see him in the hallways, in the cafeteria or in the courtyard. He doesn't attend the classes either. There's rumors that he is in isolation for something he has done but Mark has a hard time believing it, and he doesn't even know why.

Everything is getting weirder. He should be used to the life in juvy by now but it seems like everything is changing constantly. Something is off but Mark can't pinpoint that what it is. It's not like he misses the other boy, surely not.

. . .

It's the dead of the night. It's not a surprise that Mark isn't sleeping, not at all. His brain is clouded by thoughts, more or less negative. He is almost eighteen and has less than a year left of his sentence. Will he be transported to a real prison for the rest of his sentence after he turns eighteen? Mark doesn't know. If that happens, he knows he will be a deer in a forest of wolves.

The door creaks open. His back facing the door, Mark's heart almost stops before he calms down a bit, it must be the guards. No prisoner could get in without the keys. He takes in a shaky breath and stays still. He hears the door closing. Footsteps. Someone sits down on his bed. Mark gasps, quietly and quickly sits up. It cannot be. It's not even fucking possible for Donghyuck to still keep surprising Mark like that.

"What the fuck?" he whisper-yells, dumbfounded and kinda shocked. Donghyuck puts a finger on Mark's lips and hushes him. His heart is beating in his chest so fast. A mix of fear and excitement.

Mark wants to wipe that grin off Donghyuck's lips. He doesn't have to do it though because his expression melts to something softer. He pushes Mark down and lies down next to him. The blonde boy looks around in panic but others seem to be dead asleep. Something inside Mark died when he looks into the other boy's eyes and they seem so fragile.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Mark is so frustrated. Stop making me weak, he wants to yell. But Donghyuck just leans closer and kisses him on the lips and it's so gentle. He kisses him back even though he still isn't quite sure what he is doing, what they are doing.

Everything is happening too fast and Mark can't quite keep track on things.

They shiver under the blanket in the chilly room. No one likes to be alone, it's more comforting to have another body beside you to keep you warm. It's simple. So Mark tries to be convinced that's what it is, just a real life body pillow for the other boy because Donghyuck knows he won't do anything about it. Mark wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer and it feels like they are lovers but they aren't. He closes his eyes and tries to block it out, pretending that Donghyuck is his and they are somewhere else.

He feels Donghyuck's soft lips on his jawbone again, kissing his skin so gently and caring. Their legs tangle together.

Of course, eventually Donghyuck gets up and leaves. It's risky enough already. Mark makes sure to kiss him goodbye.

. . .

It would be an understatement just to say that Mark dreaded the next day. He was fucking scared. Donghyuck being so unpredictable Mark couldn't mentally prepare himself for anything specific.

But it shouldn't come as an surprise when Donghyuck ignores him again. Or it's not exactly ignoring because he still yells one of those teasing nicknames at him in the cafeteria.

"Sweetcheeks!"

"Hello to you too, pumpkin"

Of course Mark won't shut up and take everything anymore. It's getting a little bit more clear but he won't rely on it. The weather always changes, it gets sunnier and the clouds will fade but the climate will stay the same.

Donghyuck has his sleeves pulled up and Mark notices the new tattoo covering the skin. It's not like it makes any difference but it's a nice change.

. . . 

And it goes on. Things are back to normal, casual teasing and small things like that but Mark doesn't really talk to Donghyuck, not to anyone. Okay, that's a lie. The Chinese kid, Lucas, doesn't sacrifice children to Satan. He is nice, a bit weird, but nice. Mark isn't sure if they are friends but they talk sometimes.

It's bugging him for sure. The little warm feeling in his chest is growing into an inferno.

Mark has to do something about it. He can't just wait for it anymore, wait for Donghyuck to make up his mind and stop playing with his feelings. So when he sees the other boy passing by in the hallways, he grabs him by his arm and starts pulling him along despite of his protests. The way Mark is dragging him behind him is pretty harsh but he can't find himself caring.

When they are safe from the public eye, Mark pushes the other boy against the wall and his head knocks against it. Donghyuck curses out in pain and shoots him a glare that's filled with rage and annoyance. Thankfully, Mark has some strength in his arms and can keep the other boy pinned to the wall.

"Mark, back off," Donghyuck grits behind his teeth. It's probably the first time Mark has heard him using his name, but he doesn't let him go.

"No, you shithead. We are gonna sort this out now," he replies, looking straight into his brown eyes. He could get lost in them, potentially, but he won't.

"So you're gonna hit me? Do it then. Fucking break my nose," Donghyuck is pushing it. Mark grips his uniform to pull him closer and just to push him back. He hopes it hurts. His gaze slips down to his lips, they are bitten. So kissable. Mark's mouth is dry but he doesn't let his gaze linger too long.

"We're gonna talk. Is that alright with you, hm? Can you even fucking do that," Mark hisses, "Or are you too much of a coward?"

"Watch your tongue, sweetheart"

"Sweetheart," Mark repeats in a sickeningly velvety tone. "Is that it? Do you have a crush on me, Donghyuck?"

It looks like all the blood from is body went to his face. Donghyuck's golden skin is covered in blush again, it suits him. It makes Mark feel proud to get the other boy so flustered and riled up.

"Fuck you, of course I don't. You fag," he says but it's so weak Mark almost laughs. At the same time is heart is beating so quickly, screaming, he likes you, he likes you! But his survival instinct is telling him to smash his face.

Mark chooses to follow his heart though, lost in the cliches.

"Don't be so angry," he almost whispers and leans closer. Mark looks into his eyes, again, and the other boy looks like he is in the verge of tears, both sadness and anger. Mark doesn't close his eyes when he pecks his lips. Donghyuck doesn't push him away when he wraps his arms around his body instead of pressing him against the wall.

Donghyuck wraps his arms around Mark too. They slide on the ground, hugging each other, silently and lost in somewhere in the outer space. It feels like that. Mark feels like it could be fine, it could work out. But the world is harsh, he is afraid.

. . . 

Mark thinks they are kind of dating. They aren't exactly the most ordinary couple, of course. They can't be, they are in a fucking juvy. And that is what makes everything even more difficult. A secret, that's what they are.

Mark is glad people think they hate each other. No one questions it when they disappear together and when they come back, they have bruises on their faces or a bleeding nose. Mark and Donghyuck both make sure of that, even though they apologize the caused physical pain with butterfly kisses. It's very strange but it kind of works. They balance each other out, it's almost perfect. (That's a lie. They are really the opposite of perfect but Mark is maybe falling in love with the other boy).

He learns a lot about Donghyuck. When they are alone, he is more bubbly and even though his sarcastic personality can be obnoxious from time to time, he is adorable and funny. Mark gets Donghyuck and Donghyuck gets Mark. He gets to run his fingers over his tattoos and skin, explore the every inch of his body and he is truly starting to understand that Donghyuck is beautiful inside out. Of course he has made mistakes.

Rumors are rumors, Mark also learns. The reason Donghyuck is in the prison has something to do with drugs and a shooting but he isn't a murderer. And he isn't part of the mafia either even though his father really is known in certain social circles but Donghyuck isn't proud of that. Mark thinks that the other boy could have been an artist of some kind, something very beautiful and good, if he weren't born to the environment they live in. Sometimes he wonders if that applies to himself too.

They slip up once, though. Mark had pissed some people off, like very badly and it wasn't looking good. The guy was a lot taller than him, strong and all. No, Mark wasn't scared but he is a realist and that means he knows that he can't take down a guy twice his size. It kind of ended up with Mark becoming the guy's personalized punching bag.

That was until Donghyuck had stepped in and had told the guy to stop. At that point Mark was already bleeding in several places, coughing and breathing heavily - body giving in. He would have been mad but all he could focus on was not to fucking faint.

"Why do you care?" the guy had said. There was some cliche shit about Mark being only for him to bully and that stuff. Of course he didn't just buy it like that and told Donghyuck to finish him, a lot like Donghyuck had told Mark to do.

So he did do it. Donghyuck fucking broke his arm and knocked him out.

(He apologized for it many times, whining and kissing the cast on his arm).

. . . 

Mark used to adore the toilets for the silence. Now he does it that he can be alone with Donghyuck.

They just sit on the floor, hold hands and do whatever they do. Mark is reading a book again, it's The Diary of a Young Girl by the one and only Anne Frank. It's a famous book and yet he has never read it before but again, it's an amazing way to pass the time. The book makes him kind of sad but it's alright.

"I don't think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains," he reads it aloud. Donghyuck turns to look at him with a confused expression on his face but Mark just smiles softly at him. He knows that they can't be fine forever. That things have to change and people have to leave, he has to leave or maybe it's Donghyuck who has to.

Either way, Mark tries to believe that they will be fine. Even if they have keep on breaking each other's arms and noses and veins and skin. He likes to think that it's worth it on the long run. He likes to think that Donghyuck thinks so too. 

(And oh, how much he wishes that he does).