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It’s strange, Mark thinks, as he puts down his pencil and glances up from his notebook, head no longer straight (just like his fucking sexuality), that his mind is always the most active when he’s sitting here with Donghyuck in front of him.
The boy in question is still absorbed in his own homework. Mark is actually impressed that Donghyuck can still keep his eyes down while the older boy has looked away from his assignment at least once every two minutes. Donghyuck, who usually has the attention span of a goldfish, quite literally as he switches from one thing to another as rapid and unexpected as a train wreck without ever showing the slightest sense of disorientation, is solemnly working on his school obligation. This can be considered as some sort of achievement.
They haven’t spoken to each other since fifteen minutes ago, after Mark has explained about tenses in English sentences. Mark doesn’t think he’s qualified enough to be a teacher, or at least try to elucidate on how a grammatical structure in a foreign language works to another human, but Donghyuck rarely complains about his way of teaching. He does complain, just not everyday (“Mark, you suck at talking, but I’ll take what I can get.”). The moment Donghyuck responded with an, “Oh, I got it now,” Mark decided that the kid would be doing fine on his own and left him to deal with his homework. He thought faintly in the back of his mind that Donghyuck would soon pester him again, anyway, probably asking, “Mark, how does this one go?” or “Did I do this one right?”
But maybe Mark’s jinxed it, because it turns out he’s the one getting twitchy first from the lack of words exchanged between them. Even though it has just, he reminds himself, it has only been fifteen minutes at best. Donghyuck hasn’t said a word because he’s working, and Mark hasn’t because he doesn’t have a reason to. Donghyuck hums sometimes, but it’s not a voice that is aimed at Mark, and Mark doesn’t count what’s not meant for him as even the tiniest bit sign of conversation.
Like he has thought before, it’s strange, while Mark digs his knuckles onto his cheek and stares right up ahead, at Donghyuck, how this happens so often now that Mark has dreadfully become accustomed to it. This entire thing, the whole rinse-and-repeat procedure that begins whenever Mark sits his ass down on the booth in this particular family restaurant with Donghyuck in front of him, willing himself to concentrate on whatever he’s doing, whether it’s eating or drinking or studying or even playing Snake in his phone, but ends up distracted somewhere along the way. It’s peculiar but not to the point of disturbing. Every single time, it happens, without a fail, like it’s a permanent pattern in his life that Mark can never get rid of. Not that he wants to get rid of it, anyway.
It’s not difficult either to find out what causes the focus inside of Mark’s brain to dwindle, always slowly yet surely into a full zero stop. Mark is insensitive, but he’s not stupid. He’s not always nurturing himself in disproportionately unneeded self-denial, like what Jaemin grew up doing, mostly. He also doesn’t have a tendency to avoid confronting things that he’s not familiar with, unlike Renjun who always evades the uncertain like it’s a traffic cone in the middle of the road and he’s driving at 100km/h, messily and hysterically.
(For safety purposes, Mark has absolutely banned Jeno from giving Renjun driving lessons until he’s at least twenty-five. Safety purposes.)
What he really means is, putting the psychosomatic preferences and circumstances of his friends aside, that even if he’s a little too into Donghyuck, as long as he doesn’t admit it out loud, as long as he doesn’t say a word about it to anyone, it won’t be a problem.
Right?
Right, Mark eagerly answers himself as to save his own resolution from shattering, but he knows it's for naught. This can't be done, anyway. Most of his friends know, or at least have caught up a bit, about how he feels. Insensitive and readable; so very Mark.
Donghyuck’s elbow slides slightly to the left, and Mark’s eyes that have been empty while he thought stir to life again, catching the sudden movement. Donghyuck is now resting his head on his arm, while still writing with the other one. He does that when he’s been sitting straight for a few moments, because apparently Donghyuck can’t be bothered with all of “Mark’s bitching about proper sitting poses”.
The older’s knuckles dig a little deeper into the skin of his cheek, wondering when Donghyuck will find something difficult enough that he won’t be able to solve himself.
Donghyuck is an avid learner, although he really doesn’t look like it (but Donghyuck doesn’t look like much). Somehow he’s realized to convert his fervor in verbally battering people up into something akin to gravity when it comes to studying, if that actually makes sense. How someone as loquacious and absurd as Donghyuck is able to become so serious just because Mark tells him to, that is beyond Mark. Maybe it has something to do with their long history of friendship, maybe it’s because it’s their last year in high school, maybe it’s because Donghyuck likes disrespecting Mark but not fighting with him, or maybe it’s something else entirely.
It’s strange, Mark thinks, how Donghyuck can be such an important piece in the puzzle set that is his life. He used to be just this boy who lived a few blocks away from Mark’s house. He still is a boy who lives a few blocks away, but now Mark knows his name and Donghyuck knows his. They sit near each other in class and share their lunches (Donghyuck steals half of Mark’s). Mark smacks Donghyuck for sleeping in Classic Literature with his notepad and Donghyuck kicks the back of Mark’s chair so he can get him to pass the answer for their weekly English quiz.
How did they become friends again? Mark can’t remember much. They just kind of went from strangers to acquaintances to classmates and then to seatmates and then to best friends, he thinks. Mark only remembers handing Donghyuck the gum Jeno gave him in the morning of their first day in high school because he didn’t like the flavor (it was lemon). Donghyuck lent Mark a pen when Mark’s ran out of ink in the third period. It was a hot pink glitter pen and Mark also remembers thinking, who the fuck brings pink glitter pen to school. Donghyuck apparently. At least the pen was nice.
That’s it, that’s all Mark can remember. Well, Mark doesn’t have to remember what happened three years ago, anyway, doesn’t he?
What he does remember, and know, well is that Donghyuck was a difficult person. He is a difficult person. Donghyuck has a strong personality, often coming off as harsh and ignorant, but Mark knows better. At least now. Back when they were still first years, Donghyuck was less amicable and expressed more unbridled rudeness. He was funny, though, so his, uh, rather twisted sense of humor was often overlooked, appreciated even, and others simply marked him as harmlessly flippant. His comebacks are so good that it’s bad, and Mark doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if Donghyuck talked back to the teachers instead of his classmates. If that had happened, maybe Mark would’ve died out from both secondhand embarrassment and worry already. Thankfully, Donghyuck has enough self-awareness – common sense, really – that he limits the target of his verbal abuse to those the same age as him.
Donghyuck is now frozen in time, staying perfectly still with his head still on his arm, pencil hovering over one unanswered question that Mark has answered ages ago. He waits, waits, and waits, counting the silent seconds until Donghyuck will finally speak to him again and ask him, “Mark, how do you do this one?” and Mark will happily answer it for him.
But Donghyuck doesn’t do that. Instead he skips over the question and goes straight to the next one, and Mark swallows back his disappointment. It’s good, maybe. Donghyuck might be trying to be independent by not asking for Mark’s help every a few sentences or so. If it will affect him in positive ways, then Mark can absolutely endure another fifteen minutes without Donghyuck talking to him.
Absolutely.
Oh, absolutely.
Mark takes a sip of his milkshake to calm his nerves. Ridiculous, since Mark has totally no reason to feel nervous here. The float has pretty much melted now, anyway, making it a little too thick to drink through the straw, but Mark barely notices. The restaurant always smells like slightly scorched pancakes and coffees and baked goods, and it’s a strange mixture, but Mark is used to it, so it’s a good smell. Donghyuck used to complain about how the smell of the restaurant reminded him of his dad’s burned-on-the-edge toasts on Sunday mornings, and he remembers thinking how it was cute when Donghyuck complain about other things other than Mark. A nice change, he’d say.
Donghyuck is strangely alluring, Mark thinks, as he looks down to Donghyuck’s fingers on top of his book, before tearing his gaze away from the boy in front of him. He’s been looking too much, but Mark didn't quite want to stop. Donghyuck’s skin tone is slightly darker than Mark’s, or others, actually, because he said he spent a lot of time outside when he was a kid. He would say these kind of things about his skin color a little uncomfortably, like he doesn’t like it. But Mark does. Donghyuck’s skin is soft bronze, almost the color of honey; it’s warm and pleasant to look at, a surge of fresh air between the common pale complexion of other students in their school and Mark’s own circle of friends. It makes Donghyuck look more sprightly, more passionate than he already is, and Mark think it’s one of Donghyuck’s best appeals. At least to him.
Donghyuck is pretty, too, and although at first Mark didn’t notice, it dawns on him as days that have passed by turn into weeks, and those weeks turn into months, and those months into years. Donghyuck has a pretty face. Long lashes, sincere eyes, shapely mouth. All the minor details, but at the end of the day, Donghyuck is still lovely.
Donghyuck is not the kind of pretty that turn heads or make people do a double take when they pass him in the street, but Mark is never into that kind of physical appeal, anyway; he’s never going to feel like he’s adequate enough when it’s like that. Mark admires that type of attractiveness, but he doesn’t want it; he ponders in how having a slightly better facial structures than most people can change so many things in one’s life. The school has many people like that, the ones who are just stupidly beautiful and stupidly talented at the same time. Most of them has graduated, though. Like Jaehyun or Ten. Even Jeno, who Mark observes from time to time, has the kind of handsomeness that becomes even more conspicuous as time envelopes him further. Donghyuck’s kind of appeal is not anything close to those.
Donghyuck is the kind of pretty that slowly seeps into every pore of his skin, like raindrops, but always room temperature so he wouldn’t jump away in surprise. He’s the kind of pretty that Mark notices in the moments when he makes him topple down laughing. He’s the kind of pretty that Mark notices in the middle of hanging out together in his narrow bedroom, with arms pressed against each other and shared earphones in each of their ears. The kind of pretty that keeps Mark warm in winter, and soothe him down in summer. The kind of pretty that Mark will found after he dig a little, after he unearth his outer layers, the hidden diamond underneath the shells of rocks. The kind of pretty that Mark will readily drown in, familiar and heartfelt, after it hits him so hard it hurts. The kind of pretty that Mark will never stop adoring after he resurfaces, even if he’s out of breath, even if there’s a chance that he’ll drown again because Mark can’t fucking swim. The kind of pretty that is just enough, familiar, and close, just Mark’s taste.
Mark can hear Jaemin shouting inside of his mind, the exact voice he’d use and all, “Mark Lee is soooooo whipped!”
He can’t deny that.
He also can’t deny that he imagined both Jeno and Chenle whistling in the background right after Jaemin hollered, and Jisung looking at him in complete and utter disappointment, while Renjun just looks lost. But then again, Renjun looks lost a lot, especially when it comes to Donghyuck and his antics.
Mark suddenly remembers how Donghyuck would come to school with a bunch of Band-Aids all over his skin. Even his face. The others, mainly Jeno (who has always had a habit of pointing out tiny details that some people would specifically like him to omit), would tease him and asked, “Did you get into a fight, Hyuck?” or “Did someone beat you up good?” or the like.
(That’s absurd. Mark knows for a fact that Donghyuck isn’t the type to fight head on; he’s clever, and also really petty, which is a shitty combination, so if he somehow ends up getting caught in a full-blown street brawl, he’ll probably lead his opponent into thinking he’s going for a punch while in truth he’ll just stab them with a pen and then run or something. Not that he’d actually get into any kind of fight, when he’s very conscious of his physical strength.)
Donghyuck would snort and say, “I just tripped.”
“And got fucked up all over?” Mark asked right after, unable to hold back the sarcasm. He looks at the Band-Aid on Donghyuck’s cheek, and thought hard of how it was such a shame. “Must be one hell of a fall you had there.”
Donghyuck paused, staring at Mark.
In terms of verbal proficiency, especially in passive-aggressive banters, Donghyuck’s level is way, way above Mark. The both of them know this. Mark is a little slow, a little obstinate, even if he has enough guts to initiate a fight whenever he wants, or simply when the situation forces him to. Donghyuck is quick on his feet, witty as hell, and always so bleakly blatant. There’s really no question as to who will come out as the winner if the both of them bicker. Mark knows this. Donghyuck knows this. The three years of friendship they have had confirms this.
Yet Donghyuck simply acknowledged Mark’s latest venom with a, “It sure was,” despite how easily and gladly he could’ve shot him down then. If he wanted. But he didn’t.
Mark still thinks about it until this day. He reasons with himself that maybe Donghyuck isn’t an asshole 24/7. Maybe he can relent, too, sometimes, at least to Mark. That’s good to know.
But Donghyuck does trip a lot, when it comes to that. He may be quick on his feet, and has a dagger for a tongue, but he’s still an overly excited teenager, and if anything, he’s clumsier than a blind penguin when he walks while doing something else. If he actually trips on a hole or a rock or even a fucking patch of grass, it would be way better. But no, the kid fucking trips on his own feet.
He always falls face first, too, it’s actually a miraculous wonder than he still hasn’t broken his nose up to this day. He gets a lot of scratches, though, and that annoys Mark, really, especially when the fading takes too long and those scrapes decorate Donghyuck’s face for longer than expected. It’s distracting when Mark looks at Donghyuck’s face and sees it battered, just because Donghyuck can’t be bothered to fucking look properly when he walks. In short, Mark doesn’t hate Donghyuck’s clumsiness as long as it doesn’t hurt his face, which doesn’t happen often, so he hates it regardless.
“Mark,” Donghyuck suddenly says, and Mark startles from his own thoughts. He looks up from the table, setting his gaze on Donghyuck’s. The boy is staring back, unabashed, curious.
“Yeah?”
“You done with your homework?”
“Yeah,” Mark replies. Then he pauses, thinking. “No, you can’t copy it if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Shit,” Donghyuck says, but he’s grinning, as if he’s expected Mark to refuse him head on but still anticipated a different answer, anyway. That’s Donghyuck, Mark guesses, so hopeful that it’s endearing and annoying at the same time. After three years, Mark is barely surprised with anything that Donghyuck does, to be honest.
“What? If there’s something you don’t understand, I’ll help,” Mark says, and Donghyuck tilts his head to the side. Mark finally pulls his face away from his hand because his cheek was starting to get numb from being pressed too long against his knuckles. “But you can’t copy my work. That’s petty.”
“That’s not petty. This is called being effective,” Donghyuck retorts, pointing his pencil at Mark. The end barely grazes Mark’s nose, but he still snorts and pushes Donghyuck’s hand away. “And less time consuming! Yeah!”
“Say whatever you want, that’s still cheating and all cheaters are petty.”
“Ugh, you’re saltier than I thought.”
Donghyuck huffs, and he flicks his pencil down. It rolls on the smooth surface of the table, hitting Mark’s resting fingers with a soft thud. Mark stares at it for a long time, Donghyuck making no visible effort to pick it up. Then Mark makes up his mind, even though he doesn’t really know what he’s aiming for.
“Donghyuck.”
Either Donghyuck doesn’t hear him, or he’s pretending that Mark doesn’t exist. He’s really good at doing that. He’s good at doing anything unpleasant, especially when he’s doing it to Mark, he’s exceptional. For example, when he’s flicking a gaze up to catch his eye right after Mark has closed his mouth and then looks away again, completely ignoring him.
God, isn’t he remarkably annoying.
“Donghyuck.”
Donghyuck still doesn’t answer, and this time it’s Mark who sighs. He really is difficult, in more ways than one. But Mark isn’t Mark if he gives up so easily; he’s a self-proclaimed hard worker. Mark Lee will live up to his name.
“Lee fucking Donghyuck, I swear…”
Donghyuck puts his hand up, and Mark doesn’t finish his sentence.
“Mark, you know, for someone who has been, uh, not so subtly checking me out for the last ten minutes, you really are pretty damn foul-mouthed.”
Mark looks at Donghyuck, jaw slack, brain just barely registering Donghyuck’s words. But Mark also isn’t Mark if he doesn’t recover quickly, so he closes his mouth and snorts again. “What even,” he says, using the strongest tone of incredulity he could muster, “I have not.”
“The fact that it took you more than three seconds to respond to my charge proves otherwise,” Donghyuck murmurs, and he taps his fingers on Mark’s cheek. Mark tries not to let the heat gets to his face, because Donghyuck has touched him so many times already, he’s used to this; Mark is so not blushing. He does like Donghyuck, but he is so not blushing.
But of course he is. Just a bit.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mark replies in record time.
“Sure, Mark,” Donghyuck says. “Anyway, this one. Teach me how to do this one.”
“No, wait,” Mark says, and he doesn’t think anymore. He’s spent the last God knows how long thinking, thinking, and thinking, so he’s quite tired of doing it more. Screw his resolve. Screw Jaemin and his hollering. Screw Jeno’s whistling and Chenle’s goddamn dolphin voice. Screw Jisung’s disgust (what is he even disgusted about, he’s just as straight as Mark is, which means he’s extremely un-straight). Renjun doesn’t do anything, so he’s not screwed. “You’re right. I like you.”
Donghyuck taps his pencil onto his nose. He looks straight at Mark, serious, lips doing that tight-lipped smile that Mark likes. Donghyuck looks docile when he’s smiling, at least.
(Or no. Sometimes he can look really cunning, too.)
“I know?” Donghyuck says, the end of his sentence hanging up like it’s a question.
“You know?” Mark asks, though he’s not entirely surprised. Donghyuck doesn’t look repulsed by his sudden, seemingly baseless confession.
“Yeah, I know,” Donghyuck says. “You’re not exactly hard to read, Mark, and—“
“—and I’m not exactly hiding it, either?”
“You read my mind.”
“Obviously not, since I can’t guess whether you like me too or not,” Mark says. Now that he’s got the burden of liking Lee Donghyuck out of his chest, another burden takes its place. Donghyuck must like him, since they’ve spent so long together, but how he likes him is the problem.
Donghyuck exhales, holding back a laugh. A condescending laugh, Mark will bet. He puts down his pencil, closes his book, and shoves them aside. He turns to look at Mark, bold and brazen, right in his eyes. There is no significant positive or negative expression on his face. He looks really, really solemn.
“Listen, Mark Lee. In the worst case scenario where you’re actually in love with me—“
“So this is the worst scenario then, since I do love you. Maybe,” Mark interrupts. “Is love the same as like? I’ve been liking you for years, so maybe it’s turned to love?”
Donghyuck slaps his arm. “Let me finish! It took me like, two years to come up with this line and now I finally have a chance to use it!”
It pleases Mark that Donghyuck, too, has been thinking about similar things for more than a year. That’s gotta be a good sign.
“Fine. Sorry. Where were you? ‘Listen, Mark Lee…’, I believe.”
“Don’t interrupt me again or I will ignore you for a month,” Donghyuck threatens. Mark makes a gesture of locking his mouth and then throwing away the key.
Donghyuck nods, satisfied. Then he begins again.
“Listen, Mark. In the worst case scenario where you’re actually in love with me, my only good quality is how well I will love you back and still make it look like I hate your ass. So you just have to deal with it.”
“What do you think I have been doing for the last three years?”
Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes you look pretty hurt by the things I say.”
“Yeah, sometimes your insults cross lines,” Mark says. “Like ‘ramen hair’. That was unforgivable.”
“Oh, that. Seriously, I apologize for that one. I didn’t realize you were very sensitive about your hair,” Donghyuck admits. He grins. “But you look hella fine with blond hair regardless, so please take no offense from that.”
“I took offense. I just… don’t want to be mad for too long. It’s just hair.”
“That wasn’t what you said when I apologized the first time.”
“Because you weren’t apologizing properly! Who apologize by bringing tons of assorted cakes and chocolates into the victim’s house?”
It comes up again from the back of his mind, the image of Donghyuck standing in front of his porch, a bag of food under his arm, dripping from head to toe. It wasn’t even raining.
“What the hell happened to you,” was what Mark had shouted, instead of, “What the hell are you doing here,” though he really wanted to say the latter. Out of anger. And also hope. But mostly anger.
“Fell,” Donghyuck replied casually. “In the pond. While I was chasing Jeno. But it’s alright. He bought me this—“ Donghyuck gestured at the bag he’d brought. “—and told me to share it with you since he said, and I quote, ‘Mark is on his period’.”
“I am not on any kind of period,” Mark said seethingly, but he let Donghyuck in because no matter how insulted he was by him the morning earlier, he couldn’t have let him stand outside like a wet, lost puppy. People would question the Lee family’s hospitality.
The memory must’ve crossed Donghyuck’s mind, as well, because he grins widely. Then he snorts.
“The victim’s house, though. Funny choice of words. But answering the question: boyfriends, Mark, boyfriends do that.”
Mark is insistent. “We weren’t boyfriends back then. It still wasn’t a proper apology.”
“Are we boyfriends now? You know, you always call me petty and yet you’re the one holding grudges over some insignificant insult.”
“I don’t know, what do you think? Hey, you’re the most petty. I’m not as petty as you are. And it really wasn’t proper.”
“Think we should be now. Fine, I’m the pettiest, you’re just a bit petty,” Donghyuck finally utters. “Are we done having two conversations at once? It gives me headache. Please tell me we’re done.”
“We’re done,” Mark says. “But your homework isn’t.”
Donghyuck stands up quickly. “I don’t care,” he says. “We should go on a date now.”
“Aren’t we on a date now, though?” Mark questions. “Like, we have been on a date. For like. Three years? Twice every week? Here?”
“A proper date, Mark, not a study date,” Donghyuck says, rolling his eyes. He grabs his bag and begins stuffing his books inside. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“But how about your homework—“
Donghyuck flips him off. “You were the one who said you like me first! Now tell me, do you like me or my homework more?”
Mark looks at Donghyuck, fixing his gaze on his annoyed face. Donghyuck already knows his answer; he always does. Rhetorical questions are his favorite, because with them, he has a cause to render Mark speechless. But this wasn’t really a rhetorical question.
“I love you more.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Mark grins, before he too, starts cleaning his stuff.
Donghyuck goes out of the restaurant first, not glancing back even once, knowing fully well that Mark will follow him soon after. Well, he’s quite right. Mark will follow him anywhere without a doubt. Even to hell. Maybe. Not that Mark hopes Donghyuck will go to hell after he dies…
“I would suggest that neither of us tell anyone until the subject comes up,” Mark says, when Donghyuck stops to check on his phone, apparently replying a message. Donghyuck stops typing, before looking at Mark, eyes terrifyingly empty.
Mark glances at the screen. “Oh, Jesus.”
Donghyuck : i guess i’m dating mark now
Jaemin : WHAT
Jaemin : ARE YOUS RS
Jaemin : TELL EME EVRYTHGS!!!!!1!!!!!!1
“Sorry,” Donghyuck says, shrugging, as Mark groans and covers his face with his hands, stumbling to his knees in despair. “I’ve been confiding in him for the last few months and he’s just, um, always hungry for updates.”
“’Course he is, because I’ve been confiding in him, too!” Mark says, horrified. “Oh, God. If Jaemin knows, then practically everyone knows, too.”
“Not everyone. Just the guys in our little group of friends.”
“This is a disaster.”
“It’s not, don’t overreact,” Donghyuck grabs the back of Mark’s jacket and pulls him back up. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and smiles brightly. “So where should we go on our first proper date?”
“Shouldn’t you kiss me first? For like, a confirmation that you really like me?”
“I don’t need to kiss you to confirm that I like you,” Donghyuck replies. “I can sort out my feelings really well, thank you.”
“No, the confirmation is for me,” Mark whines. “Not you. Of course you don’t need one.”
Donghyuck’s grin becomes even wider. “Oh, right. You don’t sort feelings as well as I do.”
Mark wants to reply again, only that he isn’t so sure what he should say. But then Donghyuck leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek, just a little closer to the corner of his lips.
Why he doesn’t just kiss him on the mouth, Mark can’t tell, but then Donghyuck laughs. Mark is cheesy, so he thinks Donghyuck’s laugh is music to his ears. His irritation fades as quick as it had come up.
“Your face,” Donghyuck says, still laughing. “Is the cutest face I have ever seen.”
“Thanks, that means a lot,” Mark deadpans, but then Donghyuck nuzzles his nose on his shoulder, like a cozy kitten – wasn’t he a puppy? – and Mark loses any kind of ability to think clearly. “Really.”
“Ready to face Jaemin tomorrow?” Donghyuck asks, casually slipping his hand under Mark’s. Mark doesn’t react until Donghyuck is done intertwining their fingers completely. His palm is warm. Very warm.
“Tomorrow?” Mark reprises, snorting loudly. “I know him. He’ll probably be waiting for me back at home.”