Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

“Heyyyyy,” Jeno says, as he launches himself onto the couch, right on top of Donghyuck and almost crushing his left leg in the process. “How are you?”

“Dying,” Donghyuck replies, kicking Jeno off him with his free leg and scowls. “Bitch, that was my leg, you want me to drop out of the team?”

“I’m sure Yuta won’t mind losing you,” Jeno says, smiling as he shifts to sit somewhere that wouldn’t ruin the future of Donghyuck’s high school athletic career. An athletic career he didn’t even want, but still. “I mean, he still has me.”

“Ah, is this what it is? You’re sabotaging me before the summer tournament so you’ll be able to take my spot and bench me?”

“No,” Jeno says. Then, “Maybe.”

“Fuck you too, then.”

“Chill,” Jeno drawls out, leaning back and whipping out his phone, placing his head on the slope of Donghyuck’s shoulder. He’s heavy, and his hair is tickling against Donghyuck’s neck, but the younger doesn’t complain. “Chill,” Jeno repeats again, when Donghyuck still hasn’t said anything. “Yuta won’t bench you. He won’t bench us if he wants to win against Mark’s school this year.”

The mention of Mark’s name brings strange, gravelly feeling down Donghyuck’s throat. He wills it away. “Yeah.” Wait, he sounded nervous, shit.

Jeno doesn’t miss it. He doesn’t, but he mistakes it as something else.

“What? You know we’re gonna go against him sooner or later anyway, right?”

“I know.”

“Good, then you can kick his ass,” Jeno says, looking up to give Donghyuck his signature moon smile, crescent eyes and all. God, Donghyuck hates Jeno so much, partially because he’s just too attractive to handle. But Jeno makes really good honey lemon slices, so Donghyuck can’t take him off his friends list (yet).

“But he’s really good,” Donghyuck says, looking away just so Jeno won’t be able to read his face. Mark is good. “And he has Jaemin.”

Jeno makes a half-laughing, half-humming sound, scrolling down the explore page of his Instagram, which is filled with pictures of cats and vegan lunches. “Technically Jaemin is mine, but whatever.”

“’S that so.” Donghyuck is unimpressed. He’s expected Jeno was going to respond like that anyway. “Is Renjun yours too, then, since he’s also in Mark’s team?”

“He could be. Do you want him to be?”

“I don’t know, does Jaemin?”

“Probably not,” Jeno says with a shrug. “But he doesn’t have to know.”

Donghyuck hisses like a cat, but he’s also laughing. “I’ll record that and send it to him. You’re done for, Jeno Lee.”

“Huh. But Mark’s all yours, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck stops laughing. “What?”

“Don’t you like him?” Jeno says, and he looks up from his phone to give Donghyuck a narrow-eyed glare. “Or at least doesn’t he like you? I saw what happened last week, don’t lie.”

Donghyuck lifts his face so Jeno won’t be able to see his expression. “What happened last week?”

He knows exactly what happened last week, during their usual joint Saturday soccer practice. He can’t forget it, just like he can’t forget his own name. Jeno’s definitely fishing out things, but Donghyuck can’t help but to think back: Mark’s face so close to his, hovering over him with a concerned glaze in his eyes.

“You good?” Mark asked, and Donghyuck wanted to say “no” but he was too distracted by the way Mark’s blond hair glows under the light, and how his sweaty skin glistened when he moved. Damn, Mark is handsome. A goddamn idiot, but he’s really handsome.

“Why are you here?” Donghyuck said instead, and he jerked his head toward Mark’s teammates, who were huddling on the other side of the field. He thought he’d spotted Jaemin’s tall ass somewhere in between those humans, but Donghyuck didn’t care enough to make sure. “Your team’s over there.”

“I don’t want to be with my teammates, I want to speak to you,” Mark said, scrunching his nose in that adorable way that Donghyuck secretly liked, but would never admit alive. “When was the last time we talked to each other?”

“Last night on Kakao. You went to bed on 09:36 PM. Not my fault you’re a fucking wuss, Mark.”

“Jesus. No, I mean,” Mark said, and he sat himself down next to Donghyuck. “Real talk, Hyuck. Like, face to face. Like this.” Mark made a vague gesture at the air between them, and Donghyuck stared at him, once again a little bit smitten by his stroppy smile. Just a little bit.

“Oh,” Donghyuck said, with a smaller voice this time. “Last month maybe?”

“Right,” Mark agreed, and now he grinned. He opened his hand and offered Donghyuck a piece of gum – green tea, one flavor that Mark didn’t like. “Yours.”

Donghyuck so wished Mark had said that yours about himself, but alas. He plucked the gum from Mark’s palm and began unwrapping it with a scowl. “I don’t like this flavor, either,” he murmured, but Mark just laughed and smacked his arm with the back of his hand.

“You took it anyway.”

Yeah, no shit, because Donghyuck would literally do anything for Mark, but he couldn’t really say that aloud. So he simply put the gum inside of his mouth and chewed down hard until he almost bit off his own tongue, just so he wouldn’t strangle Mark for his obliviousness.

“So happy I get to meet you today,” Mark said, when Donghyuck had somehow calmed down and was slowly chewing (he still wanted his tongue safe and sound). “I was really worried if we wouldn’t meet for a whole month.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Mark shot Donghyuck a dirty look. “Seriously? I thought we were friends.”

Donghyuck turned his head slightly to the left, hiding a side of his face from Mark’s stare. “We are, what’s your point?”

And now back to the present, Jeno’s head is slowly sliding down Donghyuck’s arm as he waits for the older to answer.

“You guys were sitting next to each other and flirting,” Jeno finally replies, and now he pulls himself back up, away from Donghyuck to really, really look at him, “Weren't you?”

Yes, Donghyuck immediately thinks, but he says, “No.”

“Really? Huh. Jisung said you guys were talking about… what if you guys didn’t meet for a month, or something? That doesn’t sound like something friends worry about. To me, at least. I don’t know how you and Mark do things, you’re all indirect weirdos.”

Donghyuck made a small, distressed sound in his throat. “He was eavesdropping? I’ll kill him.”

“Chill, he was just passing by,” Jeno says, nudging Donghyuck’s arm with his knee. “But you were flirting. Even Renjun told me Mark doesn’t act that soft in school.”

“No,” Donghyuck says again, much firmer this time. “I don’t know how you guys perceive it, but we’re just friends. If we flirt, we flirt in a friendly way. Bromance, my bro.”

“Bromance,” Jeno repeats, amused. “Yeah, right.”

2.

Jisung catches Donghyuck by the wrist and shoves something thin into his hand the very next second; Donghyuck barely blinks as the younger says, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“I’m fucking sorry?” Donghyuck responds, not even bothering to keep his mouth in check, because Jisung really has been trying his patience lately. Last time Jisung did him a favor, he found a dry gum glued on his insole. “What kind of favor are we discussing here?”

Donghyuck looks down to Jisung’s hand on his, and then to the object that he’s holding. It's a pair of glasses – one that strangely looks familiar, with its thin wire and fading brown color. Where has he seen it before? Donghyuck has a really bad feeling about this.

“Go to the sink in hallway A,” Jisung tells Donghyuck with a very serious face. “And walk quick, like, get there in five seconds or less. Or else he’ll be done before you get there.”

“What—who—“

“Just go!” Jisung says, and he pushes Donghyuck down the hall before quickly running away to the opposite direction. “Go, go, go!”

Donghyuck turns to yell at Jisung, but the boy runs really fast. Even though he knows that this – whatever this is – will definitely lead him into something that he’ll greatly regret later (Jisung is an inconveniently genius prankster), he can’t help but to do it. Whosever glasses is in his hand right now, Donghyuck doesn’t want to keep holding on to it.

The hallway A sink that Jisung mentioned before is just around the corner, so it’s not that far of a walk. Donghyuck carefully holds onto the glasses as he looks around the near-empty hallway, and then he spots a familiar tall figure bending down over said sink, and Donghyuck’s heart falls (or leaps up to his throat, he can’t really tell) because hey, there can only be one person in this whole building with that honey hair color, with that stupidly familiar black-blue bomber jacket that Donghyuck sees every weekend, and suddenly Donghyuck realizes everything that is Jisung’s elaborate trap. Including the owner of the glasses.

Mark lifts his face from the sink, wet fringes matted on his forehead and water dripping down from his cheeks and chin. Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say when he (with his eyes closed) grabs his hand around, as if searching for someone, or something.

“Jisung,” Mark calls out, and one of Donghyuck’s questions is answered. “My glasses.” Okay, all of them are answered now.

Well, fuck, Donghyuck thinks. He considers running away, but that would mean leaving Mark blind. Not that the older can’t see at all without his glasses, and not that making Mark suffer isn’t his forte, but Donghyuck is not heartless. Plus, Mark’s really cute when he’s stumbling around like a zombie. Donghyuck wants to keep seeing that.

Donghyuck sighs and finally walks closer, letting Mark’s hand bumps against his shoulder when they’re close enough. “Sorry to disappoint you, but your asshole friend Jisung ran away,” Donghyuck announces, and Mark makes a (pleasant?) surprised hum. “But good news, here’s your glasses, nerd.”

“Donghyuck?” Mark asks, even though he should’ve been able to recognize Donghyuck by the sound of his footsteps by now. He reaches for his glasses, but Donghyuck takes it a step further and puts the glasses on him first. He didn’t have to, but fuck that. He wants to.

Mark opens his eyes and blinks owlishly. Drips of water is still soaking down his damp face, and he looks like a wet, confused puppy overall, but Donghyuck still thinks Mark Lee is the cutest idiot to ever grace the surface of earth. Then Mark’s mouth splits into a wide grin. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Donghyuck says, before turning on his heels, “And goodbye.”

“What?” Mark says, when Donghyuck starts to speed down the hall, away from Mark. “Hey, why did you have my glasses?”

Much to Donghyuck’s annoyance (pleasure), Mark chases after him. He catches up easily, walking next to him in the same pace that Donghyuck’s doing, and Donghyuck has to actually make an effort to scowl instead of smiling, because Mark looks happy to see him. He doesn’t have a reason to. It’s unfair. Mark’s whole existence is unfair.

“Jisung gave it to me,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging. “I don’t know what he was trying to do, but he just gave it to me and ran.”

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“Hit me up if you ever find a friend that isn’t a weirdo, Mark,” Donghyuck says, and he stops dead in his track. “Also, I think you should dry your face. Poor shirt.”

Mark looks down to see that the water from his face has dampened the collar of his shirt, but he just grins. “Okay, I’ll find a towel later. Wanna hang after practice?”

“With who?”

Donghyuck half-expects Mark to say Jaemin, or maybe Renjun, or maybe Jeno or Jisung or Chenle, or just bring all of the gang together, but no. Mark pushes his glasses up his nose and says, “Uh, me?”

“What?” Donghyuck’s mind goes blank for some reason. “Just you?”

“Yeah. Why do you sound so disgusted?” Mark asks him, scrunching his nose and pouting. Donghyuck wants to roll his eyes because oh god, not this. Never this. Don’t fucking pout, Mark, I hate you. “Listen, we haven’t hung since forever. Since your school’s far, I can’t just pick you up whenever I want, okay?”

“Yes. Okay,” Donghyuck readily agrees, though his mind hasn’t really registered what’s happening just yet. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Mark’s face lights up again. “So? You’re in?”

No. Absolutely the hell not. “Sure.”

“Niceeee. There’s this place that makes really good ramen—I’ll see you later?”

Of course Donghyuck just has to be craving ramen since last week. What kind of creature is Mark, really? Did God put him on earth to make Donghyuck happy, or to make him suffer? Probably both. Even if Donghyuck didn’t like him this much, Mark is still too good for him.

Mark bids him a soft goodbye before he turns and goes to his own locker room, probably. Donghyuck is left alone thinking in the hallway, staring at walls, wondering why the hell is he like this. We’re friends, he tells himself. We’re friends. Mark and I, we’re friends. It’s not like we haven’t gone out like this before? Just the two of us? We’re friends! Friends do this—

A cold hand suddenly smacks the back of his neck and Donghyuck swears had he not screamed so loud, he would’ve strangled Jisung.

“I saw that,” Jisung says, an annoying teasing lilt evident in his voice. Donghyuck wants to punch him. “Gonna go on a date later, huh? Wow… I can’t believe my stupid, impromptu plan went this well… The cupid is jobless because I exist.”

Donghyuck lunges, and Jisung screeches. “It’s not a date!”

3.

Chenle is weird. Chenle has weird tastes. This Donghyuck knows by heart.

Donghyuck passes by his youngest teammates on his way to the showers, and stops by to see why they’re huddled so close together over Chenle’s phone on the bench. Jisung’s head is pressed on Chenle’s shoulder as he talks in a low voice, his fingers moving slightly to accentuate his point.

“What’re you kids looking at?” Donghyuck says, purposefully making his voice as loud as possible in case Chenle and Jisung haven’t realized he’s behind them. It works; Chenle lets out a high-pitched shriek while Jisung’s head slides down his shoulder, cursing loudly as he does. “Not porn, I hope.”

“Are you a fu—“ Jisung splutters, but then regains his composure. He clears his throat. “Are you a ghost?”

Donghyuck grins.

“It’s not porn,” Chenle clarifies calmly, “Just Vox.”

“Scholastic much?” Donghyuck comments, and he nudges himself over the both of them to see what’s displayed on Chenle’s screen. “’Why we imagine aliens the way we do?’, really? You believe in that shit?”

“Excuse you, they don’t teach us these things at school,” Jisung says. “This world is vast, man. We haven’t even explored like, five percent of the ocean. What makes you think we know anything about outer space?”

“I don’t,” Donghyuck replies flatly, “Think about that stuff.”

“Go figures,” Jisung says, shrugging. He puts his head on Chenle’s shoulder again and presses play. “This is good stuff, though.”

“Illustration’s nice,” Chenle adds, stopping the video at one minute something and pointing at one of the cartoon alien. “This one’s cute. Kinda reminds you of Mark, doesn’t it? Look at the mouth.”

Donghyuck’s lips clasp together into a thin line. “Really? I don’t see it.”

“You need glasses, then,” Jisung remarks wryly, while Chenle just laughs and says, “But look, hyung, it’s really cute. Just like him.”

“Mark’s not cute,” Donghyuck says, almost instinctively. It’s a lie, though. A big fat lie. Mark is the cutest. He’s just not going to admit it alive. And especially not in front of devil’s spawn #1 and #2, thank you very much.

“The fact that you didn’t even hesitate to refute that means you actually think it’s true,” Jisung says, turning slightly to look at Donghyuck with eyes full of indictment. “Just admit it. Mark is cute. Not my word, though.”

“My word,” Chenle says, elbowing Jisung lightly in the chest. “He’s cute.”

“You used to think he was cool.”

“Well, yeah. But he’s just cute now.”

“This conversation lacks logical evidence,” Donghyuck decides, and he pulls away from the two, before he fixes his falling towel back on his shoulders. “You guys should hit the showers soon. It’s late, and you smell.”

“Hyung, you’re running away!” Jisung calls out, when Donghyuck disappears out from the door. Donghyuck doesn’t respond because he’s already too far for Jisung to hear him, anyway.

Running away from what, he thinks, a discussion of how cute Mark really is? Don’t need that, I already know.

But of course he doesn’t say it out loud. He’s not stupid.

(When he gets back home and lays on his bed much later, he finds himself wathing the video that Chenle showed him. He finds the alien cartoon Chenle pointed at earlier and took a screenshot of it.

It does look like Mark, somewhat, and he wonders if using that as his lockscreen will cause suspicions to rise among his friends.)

4.

It’s a definite wonder that Donghyuck actually gets to meet Renjun outside of their weekly practice, because Renjun doesn’t go out of his way to meet anyone ever. Except maybe Sicheng, but that’s another case altogether.

Which is why he’s surprised when Renjun texts him on a fine Tuesday afternoon, right after his last class of the day ended: I’m at your school gate, come out in 5 or you’ll regret it.

Truly an associate of Jaemin’s. Who else could teach Renjun to threaten him like this? Just Na Jaemin.

Donghyuck hurriedly texts him back (‘wait jfc’), ignoring Jeno’s curious stare as to why he’s suddenly dashing past him to the door without any word. His backpack hits the frame as he goes, but Donghyuck barely notices. He skids down the stairs and pushes past other students to get outside. Has it been five minutes yet? Probably not, but Renjun’s impatient.

“There you are,” Renjun says, his tone dry, when Donghyuck finally shows up at the front gate. Renjun is standing with his back against the wall, school bag on the ground next to his feet, with his phone in one hand and something thick folded underneath the other. “You always make me wait.”

“Listen,” Donghyuck begins, as he walks closer to his (not really, though) friend, “I bet your pretty lashes it hasn’t even been three minutes, bright spark.”

Renjun snorts. “You’re right, it’s been ten.”

Donghyuck kicks Renjun’s leg lightly with the side of his foot. Renjun laughs out loud, swiftly evading him when he tries the second time. “You high off something?”

“I am a respectable student of a respectable academy, we don’t get high, like ever,” Renjun clarifies, and this time it’s Donghyuck’s turn to snort. Boy isn’t wrong, though. “Anyway, I’m here on an errand.”

“Yeah, I figured. What’s up?”

“Mark,” Renjun says smoothly, with a smile, without missing a beat, and Donghyuck suddenly feels like turning on his heel to just walk away from everything. It’s a constantly adequate reaction whenever he hears Mark’s name out of his friends’ mouths like this, to be honest, because he knows that they know it’s throwing him off. For whatever reason that he can’t comprehend. Reasons that he won’t bother to comprehend, even.

Donghyuck stays on his feet, though. “Yeah, what’s with him?” he then replies, trying to make his voice sound casual, but Renjun has probably noticed that Donghyuck was kinda avoiding his gaze earlier.

“Here you go,” Renjun says, and he pushes the thick something that was previously tucked under his left arm onto Donghyuck. Donghyuck ungraciously receives it, feeling soft, familiar fabric in his hands, and realizes that it’s his own pullover, freshly washed and smelling a lot like Mark.

(Don’t ask how Donghyuck knows it smells like Mark. He just does.)

“He was going to return it himself, but he has club today,” Renjun continues, smiling as Donghyuck keeps on staring at the pullover in his hands as if it’s a piece of dead human limb. Well, a human limb would make him feel just as much, but not exactly in the same way. “So I was chosen to be the holy courier. Because my house is close from here. Ha. Mark can be pretty opportunistic when he wants to.”

“Uh,” is Donghyuck’s only, honestly stupid response. “Uh, thanks. I guess.”

Renjun stares at him for a long time, eyes scrutinizing but pretty much amused. “May I ask how could Mark, of all people, have your jacket?”

“No,” Donghyuck immediately says, to which Renjun replies equally quickly, “Sucks to be you, Donghyuck, Mark already told me. You guys are cute together.”

A pause as Donghyuck tries to understand what Renjun is saying.

“What?” Donghyuck says blankly. “No, uh, we’re not like that.”

Yeah, no shit, he thinks. He doesn’t want to humor Renjun by actually showing the guy that he’s getting flustered, but damn, it’s really hard. Especially when he thinks back to how Mark, of all people indeed, actually got a hold of his pullover. This particular one. Which is his favorite, by the way.

(It wasn’t even that deep. Last week, Mark showed up for practice with a drenched shirt. When Donghyuck asked him what the hell had happened to him – it was brilliantly sunny, so it definitely wasn’t any rain doing him dirty – Mark just looked at him with horrifyingly empty eyes and said, “I took a nap on my neighbor’s lawn.”

“So?” Donghyuck raised an eyebrow. He still couldn’t see how Mark napping on his neighbor’s lawn could cause him to come to practice soaked like a wet dog. Again. Mark is definitely puppy personified. He was probably a golden retriever in his previous life.

Mark sighed loudly and tiredly.

“They have timed sprinklers, Donghyuck…”

Oh. Oh. Now that Donghyuck had put one and one together to make two, he burst out laughing, unfiltered and strident. Mark just stared at him miserably as he did, until Donghyuck finally clamped his own hand on his mouth to stop himself from really losing it.

“You are an absolute mess,” he told him, and Mark murmured something under his breath – probably a whine – but Donghyuck just dropped his bag and took off his pullover. He then threw it at Mark, who caught it with a jolt. “You can use that for now. Return it to me whenever.”

“What?” Mark asked, his eyes wide. “But this—“

“—is actually my favorite, so you better wash it later,” Donghyuck finished it for him, and Mark shut up for good. “Go change, Mark. You look awful.”)

“Thanks but no thanks, Renjun,” Donghyuck says, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Now go away.”

“You’re welcome. I hope more timed sprinklers go Mark’s way,” Renjun teases, dodging once more when Donghyuck moves forward to throttle him, his hand missing by a few inches. “See you!”

“Choke on air and die!” Donghyuck shouts, even though really, the one who wants to do that is him.

5.

Catching a cold has its own advantages. One, it means he’s justified to skip practice, and Yuta can’t be mad at him. What a blessing. Two, it means he gets to sleep in and miss school. He can stay in bed until 10 AM, or until he can’t breathe because his nose is blocked and the blanket is getting too thick and hot for his taste (even though it’s the middle of December).

The drawback, though, is that Donghyuck craves another human being’s warmth when he’s sick, and he can’t have that since his mother has works to do, his sister has school to attend, and his friends are probably too busy to care for him. Not that they have the responsibility to, but still. He wants someone to come to accompany him.

Who, though? Jeno? No way. Donghyuck wants someone useful. Renjun? He won’t skip anything even if the apocalypse is happening. Mark?

Much to his own horror, Donghyuck actually considers this. What if he calls Mark? Would Mark leave his class for him? Then Donghyuck tries to imagine having Mark tend to him in his bedroom, and he shudders. No. No. He’ll die out of embarassment. Just… no.

Donghyuck finds himself dialling Jaemin’s number around lunchtime to see if he can get him to ditch school for him. He answers after the third ring.

“Hi.”

Donghyuck doesn’t waste his time. “Hey. I’m sick. Can you come over?”

Jaemin pauses. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. You’re currently the most useful friend I have.”

“Oh, wow,” Jaemin says, and he laughs. His giggle is loud and vibrant, and Donghyuck wishes he’ll giggle here, in the same room as he is, and not like, five miles away. “This coming from you? I’m flattered.”

“Yeah? If you’re flattered get your ass here quick.”

“Oh, Hyuck,” Jaemin says, a sigh coloring his tone as his voice softens. Donghyuck can smell a gentle refusal coming, and he’s ready to cry. Not really. But kinda. “I’d love to come over, but I really can’t. I’ve been missing a lot of classes lately. Can I send in someone else to the rescue?”

“Who,” Donghyuck deadpans, because he really doesn’t want Renjun. Not because he has anything against him, but just because.

“Uh,” Jaemin says. He clears his throat before continuing, “Uhhhhh… Mark?”

Donghyuck doesn’t even blink an eye. “No.”

“But why,” Jaemin demands, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. Doing that makes him even dizzier, and he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

“Just no. I don’t want him.” He sounds like he’s convincing himself more than Jaemin.

“Listen. If you two really are just friends like how you’ve always told us, you wouldn’t mind him in your house. You wouldn’t deny him so harshly like this. This is how one would treat their crush. Just admit it.”

“I’m not denying him,” Donghyuck says, and he lifts his face up so he can frown, even though Jaemin won’t be able to see it, anyway. “I just—I don’t want him? He’s useless. What can he do?”

“He can cuddle you?”

Donghyuck chokes on his spit, and it’s not a nice feeling when you’re having a cold. Jaemin makes a vague cooing sound on the other end of the line, and Donghyuck finally spits out, “He won’t!”

“He will. If you ask him nicely.”

“I—“

This is surreal. This is fucking surreal. The way Jaemin has said it… it’s almost as if Mark won’t refuse Donghyuck anything if he just asks him. Donghyuck wants to die now more than anything, because he can’t picture it in his head what would happen if he actually asked Mark that.

“He fucking won’t, Jaemin, don’t try me.”

Jaemin snorts. “Wanna bet?”

“Fine. Honey butter chips everyday for a week straight. Mark won’t do that.”

“Deal. He will. Prepare your wallet, Hyuck.”

Jaemin ends the call first, and Donghyuck is left there contemplating whether he should drown himself in the tub before Mark arrives. He can’t do that, Jaemin will chase him to the grave. Probably etch “Donghyuck Lee is a loser who runs away from a bet in his lifetime” on his tombstone. Not that Mark will cuddle Donghyuck, but shit.

Donghyuck falls asleep again, restless until he feels a soft hand against his cheek, and someone mumbling, “Wow, you’re burning up.” The mattress dips as that someone bends over Donghyuck’s torso to grab and fix his blanket around his shoulder, and Donghyuck vaguely recognizes the smell of lavender soap.

He’s still too lightheaded to think properly, so he ignores it and retreats back into unconsciousness.

When he opens his eyes again, Mark is sitting on the bed near his blanket-covered feet, his laptop splayed on top of his legs as he types. He’s still in his school uniform, face scrunched in concentration, and his hair is super messy.

Donghyuck blinks one time. Then a second time. Then Mark notices that he’s awake, and his frown fades into a smile.

“Yo,” he greets him. “You look horrible.”

“I feel horrible,” Donghyuck confirms. “Why are you here?”

“Jaemin sent me.”

“Ah. That treacherous snake.” Donghyuck sighs into his pillow, sliding his hand underneath it to flip it so he can have the cooler side of the case. “Wait. How the hell did you get in?”

“Oh,” Mark says, his smile faltering for a little. “Um. Jaemin told me where your mom always keeps the spare key? Under the gardenia pot? So I kinda let myself in. Sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t care that Mark essentially breaks into his house to be with him. He really doesn’t. Mark could break his fucking window for all he cares, Donghyuck could never get mad at him. Never (well, he could pretend, but never in actuality).

“Mark,” Donghyuck says, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. Thanks for coming, if anything.”

“No biggie. How do you feel? Have you eaten? Do you want me to get you something?”

“Chill, it’s just a cold. It’s not like I’m gonna die or anything,” Donghyuck says. He shifts under his blanket. It was hot earlier this morning, but why does he suddenly feel cold? “Plus, I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep more.”

“So I’m summoned here just to watch you sleep?” Mark teases, laughing.

“That sounds creepy. Also, technically, I didn’t summon you. I called for Jaemin, but got you instead.”

“Not the worst trade deal in history, if you ask me,” Mark says, closing his laptop slowly and puts it away. Donghyuck is taken aback by how soft his voice has gotten, and he actually looks up to scan Mark’s expression. Bad choice. Mark’s staring at him, gentle face, easy eyes – fuck, he shouldn’t have looked up. Now he can’t breathe.

“Shut up,” is the only thing he can say, before he drops his head back against the pillow and curls up into a ball. “Fuck, it’s cold. Can you turn on the heater?”

“Sure thing, sure thing.”

Donghyuck can feel Mark slowly getting off the bed to turn on the heater on the other end of the room. He opens one eye, vaguely identifying Mark’s silhouette in front of his desk, standing soundlessly. Is he staring at Donghyuck? What a creep. Donghyuck is somewhat thrilled, though.

“Hey, Mark,” Donghyuck calls out. “Did Jaemin tell you I like cuddles?”

“What?” Mark says, and he sounds surprised. “Uh, no?”

“Yeah, well. Now you know.”

Mark pauses. Donghyuck can imagine the gears inside of his brain working, trying to connect the dots. “What does that have to do with anyt—oh. Oh. Do you want me to—er, do that? Are you that cold?”

Even if I’m not that cold, you can do it anytime, Donghyuck wants to say, but he just snorts and nods. Pride before everything else. But maybe not before personal pleasure.

Mark puts one knee on the bed, maybe a little tentatively, and Donghyuck shifts back, pulling his blanket with him. Mark places himself on a spot next to Donghyuck, and when he awkwardly opens his arms, Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate. He moves in and lets Mark’s hands lay on his back, arms circling his shivering shoulders with conversant weight. The smell of lavender soap fills his nose again, a scent that is just so Mark, Donghyuck doesn’t ever want to forget.

He’s warm, he thinks, as he fits his head under Mark’s chin. Really warm. Donghyuck is positive he wouldn’t even need the heater if he could have Mark like this all day. No way.

It’s easy to fall back into a slumber with an actual human warmth to hold on to. Donghyuck tries his best to not think about how Mark’s height fits his perfectly, tangled legs finding their allocated spots on each other like puzzle pieces.

Then again, he really doesn’t have to think when he’s asleep. Mark’s presence soothes down his thoughts, putting them to rest in a static space.

(Jaemin grins at him wickedly the next time they meet, because Donghyuck just shoves a week’s worth of honey butter chips at him without any word, flips him off, and then walks away.

“Was he good?” Jaemin hollers after him, but of course Donghyuck ignores him.

Answering the question though: yes. Yes, Mark was good.)

5+1.

2 PM is such a nasty time to go fight (play). Not as nasty as, say, 12 PM, but the sun is still hot enough to throw Donghyuck off balance. It’s dampening the back of his shirt with sweat and no amount of cold water splahed onto his skin could help him cope better.

Not to add that he’s esentially fighting Mark’s school right now, which makes everything worse. He doesn’t want to lose. Never.

“Nervous?” Jeno asks. He bends down to tighten his laces before straightening himself up again, barely looking at Donghyuck. “It’s gonna be fine, you’re a much better runner than Mark.”

“This is soccer, Jeno, not a fucking marathon. It doesn’t matter who’s the better runner.”

“Sure it does,” Jeno continues lightly, as if Donghyuck hadn’t just shot him down to the ground. “You can get the ball faster.”

“And lose it faster, too.”

Jeno snorts. “God, I give up, you’re a goddamn nihilist. Nobody can fix that.”

Maybe Mark can, Donghyuck thinks, but of course he doesn’t say it out loud for obvious reasons. He puts one foot down to the ground and looks at the opposite end of the field, where Mark should have been. He’s not there yet, but there are Jaemin and Renjun. Jeno follows Donghyuck’s gaze and grins.

“Aw, Jaemin’s really cute,” Jeno comments, with a stupidly infatuated smile on his face. Donghyuck makes a disgusted groan and turns away from him. “Not that he’s ever stopped being cute, but he’s exceptionally adorable today. Do you think if I go over there and kiss him Yuta will kill me for fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Christ. Remember what Yuta said?” Donghyuck’s voice is dry. “Please do not let personal feelings get in the way of the game. Or we’re dead. You’re dead.”

“Look at you, trying to tell me not to involve my feelings in this,” Jeno says, shoving Donghyuck with his shoulder playfully. “You should remind yourself first. Oh, look, that’s Mark.”

Donghyuck hates that his ears perk up so quickly at the mention of Mark’s name, and he lifts his face to see that Mark has indeed appeared. He’s already in his jersey, his bag in one hand and a towel in another, and Donghyuck almost wishes he didn’t look as good as he does. He’s literally just walking into the field, what is Donghyuck’s heart doing leaping around inside of his ribcages like this? This is preposterous.

Jeno makes an amused sort of a sound from his throat and says, “Personal feelings.”

“Shut up, I’m not—“ Donghyuck begins, but Yuta already pats him and Jeno on the shoulders and tells them to start their warm-ups.

“Donghyuck,” Yuta calls out, when Donghyuck reluctantly stands up and wipes a bead of sweat off his cheek. "You can wild out today, but keep it safe. Remember what happened in the last tournament.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Donghyuck says, and he glances down at his ankle. It looks fine. It feels fine. He should be okay. “I’m not repeating that, that shit hurts.”

“I know you won’t repeat that,” Yuta says, and Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, a smile forming on his face, before Yuta finishes, “On purpose.”

Donghyuck splutters out an enraged response, but Yuta doesn’t give pay him any heed. Instead he moves away to take care of Jisung’s knee protector instead.

“He’s basically saying you’re as inept as Taeyong is,” Jeno whispers in Donghyuck’s ear later, and Donghyuck scowls at him.

“That’s like, super offensive,” he says, pulling his leg up to his stomach and rubs a thumb over his ankle. He really is fine. He won’t sprain anything today – he came here to kick Mark’s (and Jaemin’s and Renjun’s, he guesses) ass. He’s going home winning, healthy and safe, and he’s not having anything else but that. “Nobody’s as inept as Taeyong is.”

Jeno doesn’t respond. He’s too busy staring at the grassy field, his face vacant of expression. Donghyuck puts his leg back down.

“What’s up?” he asks, because Jeno is being strangely quiet. Considering that he’s usually always so ready to defend Taeyong in any chance he gets, this is uncharacteristic.

“Did it rain earlier?” Jeno asks, turning to look at Donghyuck. “That side of the field is pretty wet. That’s dangerous. We could slip.”

“They probably forgot we’re having a playoff today and watered it late,” Donghyuck replies with a shrug. “We’ll be fine, Jeno. It’s been what, three years? What kind of players are we if we get beaten down by wet fucking grass?”

“I was just saying,” Jeno says, and he smiles lightly. “I’m actually more worried about you and your ankle history than myself, but yeah.”

“Save it. You should worry about how you’ll comfort Jaemin later, he’s a sore loser.”

“You’re being too confident,” Jeno reminds him, all crescent eyes and wide smile, “But I don’t hate that.”

Donghyuck is just about to say when has Jeno ever hated him, but Yuta already yells at them to wrap up since the match is starting in ten. Donghyuck sighs and swallows back his words, and coincidentally, when he looks up, he catches Mark’s eyes from the other end of the field.

Mark probably has been staring for awhile, since his blank expression suddenly shifts into a mild joy or something. Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, because why does he have to look like that, but Mark just waves and points at the west side of the field. Wet grass, he mouths quietly, be careful.

Donghyuck closes his eyes for a second and wonders just how is it possible for Mark to be a) handsome, b) cute, c) stupid, and d) so caring, all at once. It’s not exactly a new epiphany, but it still hits Donghyuck too hard every now and then. Specifically now. Mark is real, but at the same time he’s not. He’s weird. He’s an irregularity in Donghyuck’s already messy life, but really, he’s not a bad existence. Not at all.

He opens his eyes again. Okay, he mouths back at him. Thanks.

Mark shoots up his thumb, but his attention is soon compromised when Renjun pats him on the arm and calls him for a team pre-game pep talk. Donghyuck sighs and looks away.

“I don’t know what the heck he just said to you, but it better not make you weak,” Jeno comments calmly from the bench. When Donghyuck looks at him, Jeno’s grinning wide again from ear to ear. “It ain’t on me if we lose today, okay?”

“I already told you we won’t,” Donghyuck tells him in a firm voice. “We won’t lose. Have some more faith in me.”

“Oh, I have faith in you, don’t worry. Your sentiment? Not so much.”

Donghyuck exhales. “I take back what I said earlier. You will slip on the grass later, loser.”

Yuta soon ushers them to go out to the field, reprising strings of advices and orders as he does. He reminds Donghyuck one more time not to sprain his ankle, and Jeno not to get too relaxed should the first goal be theirs. He also doesn’t miss Jisung (“Keep your focus! Don’t zone out.”) and Chenle (“If something funny happens, you can only laugh at it after you win, not in the middle of the game, got it?”), who later whine that Yuta’s nagging too much.

“Don’t be like Doyoung,” Jisung cries out.

“Yeah, one of him is enough,” Chenle adds, equally distraught.

“Shut up, I just want you to win!” Yuta flicks both of their foreheads in a single second, in one quick succession, and they complain even louder (though only after they carefully get out of Yuta’s reach). “If you don’t want to cry your ass off to me later then you better listen!”

“We’re not gonna cry if we lose,” Donghyuck says. “Well, maybe Chenle—“

“I won’t!”

“Okay, Jisung then—“

“Do you want another gum on your insole?”

“Donghyuck’s confident we’re not gonna lose,” Jeno says, jerking his thumb at Donghyuck’s direction. “Let’s see if his resolve is as reliable as his feet.”

“Listen here, jackass,” Donghyuck begins, and he now turns to Jeno, looking at him fully in the eye. “I’ll bet you anything that we’ll win, and I’ll come back home healthy.”

“Anything?” Jeno repeats, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’ll bet me anything?”

“Yeah. Anything.” Donghyuck wipes another bead of sweat off his face. God, it’s really hot. He hopes at least this means the west side of the field will dry sooner than expected. “Any suggestion?”

“If you get injured,” Jeno says, pointing his finger at Donghyuck’s face, “You gotta kiss Mark.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, then he blinks. He looks at Jeno again, now with full-scale horror. “No, wait, fuck. What? What did you just say to me?”

“Kiss Mark!”

“Alright, now that would be a sight,” Chenle comments, grinning wide. “Anyone here game to trip him up later?”

“I will kill you,” Donghyuck threatens him, but before he could say anything else or try to escape from the impending disaster, their opponents have already entered the field. Mark is stooping down on the perimeter, tightening his neon laces, while Jaemin mouths something at Renjun at the other end of the arena with his arm around the older’s shoulders. They look ready to fight, and Donghyuck does not want to lose. And it’s not because he doesn’t want to kiss Mark, obviously, but because he has his pride to sustain!

“You can kill me after you kiss Mark,” Chenle whispers, when he passes by Donghyuck’s spot to get to his own. His voice is low, barely audible, but Donghyuck catches on every word and feels his ears burning up.

“You’re basically saying you want me to get hurt,” Donghyuck tells him, rubbing his cheek again. He’s not nervous. He’s fucking not. “What kind of sick self-sabotaging strategy is that? I’m your best player!”

“Our best player is me, shut up,” Jisung yells from Donghyuck’s other side.

“You shut up before I faceplant you!”

“Kids,” Yuta shouts from the bench, exasperated. If Yuta – the most exasperating existence Donghyuck has ever had the chance of meeting, other than maybe Doyoung – sounds exasperated, then they must be really overwhelming. He doesn’t know if it’s good or not. Probably not.

Donghyuck tears his face away from Jisung’s direction and tries to land his gaze somewhere else – probably on someone who wouldn’t piss him off more when he looks at him. Jaemin? Nah. Renjun? Even worse.

That leaves Mark, really, who’s still stooping down, one knee on the ground and a vacant expression on his face as he looks up at them. Donghyuck wonders if he’s planning on how he should get past their defenses – it’s Jeno’s job to stop Mark, not Donghyuck’s, fortunately. Ace for an ace, Yuta has said, fiercely ignoring both Donghyuck and Jisung’s loud protests (“But I’m the ace!”).

Soon after, Mark catches Donghyuck’s eyes again and his lips part into a teethy grin.

“What?” Donghyuck says out loud, because Mark is within earshot, and maybe Donghyuck should start off the play right by dissing him first. It’s a tradition, sort of. “Counting seconds before your final summer defeat?”

“You must be kidding,” Mark replies starkly, even though his face isn’t hostile at all. “We’re winning this one, Hyuck. I’m sorry but this tournament is ours.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Keep on dreaming, blondie.”

Mark opens his mouth, no doubt armed with a stupid comeback on the tip of his tongue, but the referee already enters the field and he clasps his mouth. He disappointedly looks away from Donghyuck and tells Jaemin to peel himself off Renjun. He’s taking his duty as the captain seriously, Donghyuck supposes.

“Mark,” Jeno says, as the both of them meet at the center of the field. “You wanna get something good later?”

“What?” Mark asks, shifting between one leg to another. His neon laces hurt Donghyuck’s eyes, but maybe that’s just because he’s staring too much, god. “You mean when me and my team celebrate our victory?”

Jeno laughs out loud. “Okay, I won’t humor you with the whole intimidating talk thing, that’s Donghyuck’s job. But lemme tell you: pray for him to sprain his ankle.”

“Jeno fucking Lee—“ Donghyuck starts to yell, but Jeno puts up his hand, and it shouldn’t have even stopped Donghyuck, but it did. Donghyuck shuts up.

“Dude,” Mark says, frowning immediately. He glances at Donghyuck once before turning his attention back to Jeno. “What the hell are you saying? I don’t want anyone to sprain their ankle, dear lord. I want to win, but not to that extent.”

“Naw, believe me, you do this time,” Jeno continues. He turns his head slightly to wink at Donghyuck – who is currently burning on where he’s standing, both literally (sun) and figuratively (embarrassment). “Am I right, Donghyuck?”

“No,” Donghyuck says harshly. “No, you’re fucking not. How could you?”

“Yeah, man, how could you?” Mark says. He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Donghyuck, but I hope you’re just joking.”

“I’m kinda not,” Jeno says, shrugging, “But take it as you will, Mark.”

The referee puts his whistle between his teeth and reaches out his hand. Donghyuck sighs and backs off, sparing Mark and Jeno one last heated glare as he does.

Once the whistle goes off, Mark doesn’t waste his time. He kicks the ball right off the bat, surprising even Jeno, who’s probably not used to Mark’s sudden fierceness. Donghyuck can understand. Mark’s usually a pretty tame player, even if he’s the ace. In the short span of three seconds, the ball has already crossed over Jisung’s territory, which he inconveniently also shares with Jaemin.

“Shit, he really wants to win!” Chenle shrieks as he nearly slides off the field trying to intercept the ball before it gets to Renjun. “Hyung, what are you doing? Move!”

Okay, maybe Donghyuck zoned out for a moment there, but luckily his feet are sober enough to think on their own. He’s moved before he even realizes it, and the next thing he knows, he’s already getting the ball from Chenle’s super nice save.

He could hear Yuta’s shout somewhere from behind him, but Donghyuck can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s too focused and distracted at the same time. He scans the field with hasty eyes, looking for familiar faces. He vaguely notices that Jaemin’s coming his way again, but he finds Jisung running in between him and Renjun, so he takes his chance and sends it to him.

As soon as the ball leaves Donghyuck, he feels another player’s weight crashing onto him. On normal occasion he wouldn’t have lost his balance, but he loosely realizes just how… unreasonably… slippery… the grass is.

What Jeno had said earlier rings again in Donghyuck’s ears, almost in a mocking manner. “That side of the field is pretty wet. That’s dangerous. We could slip.” Then it’s the image of Mark mouthing off wet grass, be careful on the front of his mind. His face when he did it was one of the face that Donghyuck would hate to disappoint. Weird, but true.

Jaemin is light compared to many, but he’s still crushing Donghyuck under him when they both slip on the grass and fall down. What’s worse, though, is that Donghyuck’s left ankle (thankfully not his right, since that one was already twisted twice last year) makes a frighteningly loud snapping sound as his body hits the grassy ground. Donghyuck doesn’t usually cry out, but he does this time. Not exactly though. He curses out loud, but same difference.

At this point in time, the pain of spraining his ankles doesn’t surprise him anymore. It jolts him awake, sure, and it’s annoyingly persistant and intense for the first few seconds, but it doesn’t surprise him at all. He knows this pain by heart already.

Doesn’t mean he’s used to it, though.

Okay, Donghyuck, he thinks to himself, burying his face in the grass and trying to stabilize his breathing. His left leg twitches when he shifts. Okay, it doesn’t hurt that much. Don’t whine, don’t whine, don’t fucking whine—

But then Jaemin rolls off him with a grunt, and Donghyuck’s breath hitches when his knee accidentally hooks on Donghyuck’s goddamn battered ankle. He shouts this time, fingers clawing on grass and dirt getting under his nails. Jaemin’s not heavy, alright, but Donghyuck doesn’t need any more weight on his already-growing injury.

“Jaemin, that’s my ankle!” Donghyuck yells, already dizzy from the pain creeping up his leg and to his lower back. “Get off, get your leg off!”

“Jesus!” Jaemin cries out, lifting his leg as soon as Donghyuck finishes. “Oh my god, Donghyuck! I’m so sorry, I slipped—are you okay?! Are you hurt?!”

“You fucking think?” Donghyuck says through gritted teeth, trying to lift his head, but decides against it. The wet grass feels nice on his face. Maybe he should just stay here. Fuck winning, he just wants to die now.

Jaemin continues to splutter a string of rapid apologies. He bends over him and tries to get him to face upward, but Donghyuck shakes him off with a groan. Then Yuta’s voice emerges somewhere above him, “Donghyuck, get up!”

“I can’t,” Donghyuck exclaims, actually looking up this time just to give Yuta the deadliest, dirtiest look of the century. “Do you not see—“ Donghyuck points back at his still-twitching leg, now reddening, before looking back at Yuta. He’s now terrified for his life. “—that, hyung?”

“Shit, sorry, I phrased it wrong,” Yuta says, his voice softening. He stoops down to slide his arm under Donghyuck’s body. “Roll over so I can see it better, Hyuck. Come on.”

“It hasn’t even been one minute!” Donghyuck cries again, unsure of who to get mad at. It wasn’t exactly Jaemin’s fault, since the grass is slippery, and it certainly wasn’t Yuta’s either, because he had nothing to do with the whole accident. “You have to patch me up.”

“What do you think I am, a witchdoctor?” Yuta demands. He moves to the side to place a hand on Donghyuck’s ankle, and he winces when Yuta presses on his the upper side of his heel. Though Yuta’s thumb is soft and barely forceful, Donghyuck still doesn’t want anyone’s hand nearing his ankle anytime soon. “Oh, Donghyuck. I already told you not to wild out.”

“But I wasn’t!”

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin says again, his hand clutching on his shirt until it creases. Donghyuck glares at him, but he doesn’t get mad. He can’t, anyway. “I’m so sorry, Donghyuck, I’m so sorry—“

“Shut up, it’s not your fault,” Donghyuck tells him. “Well, maybe a little—“

“Donghyuck,” Yuta interrupts, lifting his face to give him a warning look. “It’s nobody’s fault. It was an accident.”

“Fine, it was. Fix me up, then.”

“I already told you I’m not a witchdoctor,” Yuta reminds him again, rolling his eyes. He carefully puts Donghyuck’s foot back on the ground. “You’re sitting out.”

“No shit, hyung!” Donghyuck says. “But I don’t want to sit out!”

“Tell me how you’re gonna play with one working leg, then,” Yuta challenges. “Gonna hop around like a cottontail? Kick the ball with your hand, maybe?”

Donghyuck scowls, but he knows that Yuta is right. He’s being unreasonable. It sucks ass, but he will have to sit this one out. Even if he doesn’t want to. Even if he hasn’t even gotten a chance to kick Mark’s ass yet.

Jeno suddenly appears next to Jaemin and bends down to place his hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. His face is tinted with absolute concern, which is all bullshit, Donghyuck believes. “Donghyuck, man, you alright?”

Donghyuck shrugs his hand off him and points a finger at him. “Okay, first of all, Jeno Lee. Shut up. Don’t you dare look at me like that when we both know for a fact that you wanted this! Second of all, use your eyes, you idiot! Can’t you see that?” Donghyuck moves said finger to point at his reddening ankle once more, and then back to Jeno. “Happy now?”

“Actually, no,” Jeno replies, and in his defense, he really doesn’t look happy. It makes Donghyuck feel a little bit better somewhat. “I didn’t think it’d actually turn out like this. Nana, are you alright?”

Jaemin makes distressed sort of a sound. “I literally just incapacitated your teammate, why are you worried about me?”

“Donghyuck’s a pro at this. He’ll heal in like, two hours.”

“You think I’m Wolverine or something?” Donghyuck hisses, but then Yuta pats him on the back and tells him he needs to get up so he can get Donghyuck to the bench.

“Don’t worry, I’ll win this for you,” Jeno says, when Yuta, with his arm around Donghyuck’s waist, and Jaemin’s on his shoulders, help him up and take him out from the field. Donghyuck doesn’t reply, but he hopes Jeno knows it’s his “you better, or else”.

On his way to the bench, Donghyuck finally catches sight of Mark. The guy hasn’t even crossed his mind earlier due to how blinded he was by the pain, but suddenly, he’s taking up all of the space in Donghyuck’s head now. He’s standing on the perimeter again, the one on Donghyuck’s team’s side, his nails burrowing deep into his palms in front of his chest as he looks on with scrunched brows and tight lips. Donghyuck immediately tears his gaze away because the look on Mark’s face – he doesn’t want to see it. It’s just a sprained ankle, for god’s sake, there’s no need to look that worried.

(But at least he’s really worried about Donghyuck. That part’s nice.)

Yuta sits him down on the bench and bends down to check his injury again. He’s got an ice pack on one hand this time, and Donghyuck winces when the cold hits his skin. But it does help to soothe down the pain, so he doesn’t complain. Not like he’s going to, anyway, since there’s no point in doing so. It really is no one’s fault, except for maybe his own for getting too distracted.

Yuta’s expression is pained when he lifts his face to look at Donghyuck. Donghyuck stares back impudently, mutely daring Yuta to say to him ‘I told you so’, like what he’d expected. Instead, Yuta says in an uncharacteristically distraught voice, “I should take you off the team if you’re just gonna keep making me worried like this.”

Okay, now that’s unexpected.

“Excuse me?” Donghyuck demands, because this is so unlike him. Yuta – the Nakamoto Yuta – is worried about Donghyuck? This Donghyuck? The same Donghyuck that he yells at like, every five minutes or so? The same Donghyuck that hid Yuta’s sneakers underneath the locker room’s floorboard because Yuta said Jisung was his favorite player?

Quite unbelievable. But Donghyuck’s ears are working fine.

Yuta presses harder with his ice. “I’ll yell at you later, don’t worry,” he says. “For now, you just sit here and ice your goddamn stupid ankle. After all you’ve been through last year, why haven’t you broken it already? I’m curious.”

“Oh fu—screw off,” Donghyuck tells him, snatching the ice pack from Yuta’s hand. “I’ll be fine. Like Jeno said, I’m a pro in this shit. Go take care of your team.”

“Our team,” Yuta reminds him. “But yeah. You’re experienced in this. Good for you.”

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out and jerks his head toward the field. “Go, coach.”

Yuta sighs and turns his back to him. He signals for someone on the other bench to switch in for Donghyuck, and then tells Jeno to switch strategy. Donghyuck doesn’t pay enough attention to listen. He’s too occupied by the swelling of his ankle, the burning dampness on the back of his shirt, and the slow yet definite bitterness clawing up his throat.

He’d wanted to do this. He wanted this badly. He’d lost a few good night’s sleep thinking about this day. He was so confident he’d do this well, too. Yet now he’s here, sitting out on a match he’d been looking forward to since last month, losing his chance on showing Mark just how much he’s grown. How much he’s improved so that he’s almost at Jeno’s level now. How much he can take him on anytime, anywhere.

Donghyuck is so unlucky, it’s fantastic.

The game always seems to go quickly when he’s playing, but now that he’s watching from the side, he suddenly realizes just how long playoffs actually are. It  drags out longer than anticipated, though Donghyuck wasn’t anticipating anything in the first place, which makes it worse. It’s long and tiring and unpleasant, but strange enough, Donghyuck is too dazed to actually absorb the details. He sees how they all go down, yeah, but it’s all out of focus.

It’s a weird feeling, sitting on the bench when Jeno deals in the last, final goal. It’s a weird feeling seeing Jisung throwing himself on Chenle, shouting in the older’s ears. It’s a weird feeling seeing Yuta wiping his face with the back of his hand, tired but proud. It’s a weird feeling, seeing Mark with his face to the sky and his hands on his hips, heaving a long ass sigh and brushing his hair back with his fingers.

Donghyuck’s gaze lingers on him the longest, nevertheless. Mark lets out another sigh, and then he turns to look at Donghyuck, and mouths: okay, this time it’s yours.

Donghyuck shakes his head, and says back soundlessly. Nah, we both lost this.

Mark bursts out laughing, but it quickly recedes. He shoots Donghyuck a thumbs up, and then points at an imaginary watch on his wrist. Donghyuck knows what he’s saying even if he’s not looking. See you in one hour.

Ah, yeah. They did make that promise last night to go for ice cream after the match, regardless of who would win.

Donghyuck is distracted when three people drape themselves over him all at once: he loosely recognizes Jeno’s black strands on his face, Jisung’s long arms around his neck, and Chenle’s high-pitched shriek in the middle of the sudden chaos. They’re all tangled limbs and shouts; they’re all ganging up on him, yelling “We did it! We won! We freaking won!” as if Donghyuck hasn’t noticed already. Strange enough, though, none of them or their body parts even come close to Donghyuck’s straightened, injured leg. Donghyuck supposes they think he’s suffered enough.

“Shut up!” Donghyuck finally shouts, above their collective, muddled sentences. They’re all speaking at the same time, which makes him dizzy. “I know we won, big deal! Get off me before you guys hurt me more.”

“I swear, we didn’t mean it when we said we wanted you to get injured,” Chenle yells back. He didn’t have to, really, but maybe he’s too excited and distraught to care. Donghyuck doesn’t blame him. “Hyung, are you okay? Will you be okay?”

“I said shut up,” Donghyuck murmurs, but Chenle just lets out another yelp and hugs him again. “You’re all being too handsy, get off!”

Jeno suddenly pulls away, and both Jisung and Chenle lose their balance. Still with his hands on Donghyuck’s shoulders, Jeno says in a very low, very amused voice, “The bet.”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes. “What bet—fuck.”

“No, no fuck. You gotta do it. You can’t run away.”

“Jeno, I’m fucking injured.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “That’s the point?”

Donghyuck buries his face in his hands and groans. His bitterness has vanished completely, now replaced with dread. “I can’t do that! I can’t—I can’t just kiss him out of the blue. It’ll ruin us.”

“Just call it your victory kiss and walk away like a champ,” Jisung remarks, followed by Chenle’s loud giggle. “Come on, he won’t get mad, surely?”

“What do you know about him?” Donghyuck snaps, and he feels like crying. No, he’s not exaggerating. His friends are all assholes. Maybe that’s a given since Donghyuck himself is one, but still! They’re pushing him too far. This is too much.

“Oh, come on, Donghyuck,” Jeno coaxes. “Come on! Own up!”

“Fine!” Donghyuck finally says, smacking his hands on his thighs and stumbles up. He has to lean heavily on Chenle to even be able to gain balance, but he’s fine. He has to be. “Fine, I’m owning up. Where the hell is that dumbass?”

Jisung peeks over Jeno’s shoulder and tells him, “He’s cleaning up his stuff. Gonna get inside in three, probably. Let’s stop him at the door.”

“Good idea,” Chenle says readily. “Roll out, roll out!”

“I got you,” Jeno says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he places his hand on Donghyuck’s back. His fingers hook on Donghyuck’s hip, and Donghyuck winces.

“You sure did,” he manages to say. “This is the last time I’m betting against you, though.”

“You’re just as much of a sore loser as Jaemin is, honestly.”

“Shut up! You’re not the one forced to kiss your cru—your best friend!” Donghyuck heatedly says, nearly slipping on his own words. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Unfortunately for him, Jeno is a man of details. He doesn’t miss things, like ever. His eyes crinkle as he says mischievously, “Ooh, there it is, there it is. What was that?”

“If my friendship with Mark is ruined,” Donghyuck begins, as both Jeno and Chenle help him to get to the door. Yuta’s calling their names somewhere from behind them, but none of them pay him any heed. Poor him. Donghyuck can barely spare any damn, though. Not when his own life is on the line. “I will kill you three, and then I will kill myself. I’ll gut you all and then jump off the fucking building. That’s it. That’s my promise. You’re dead after this.”

“Look, Donghyuck,” Jeno responds, voice dawdling, still sporting that teethy ass grin on his face. Can he stop? Can he fucking stop grinning for once? Donghyuck hates him. “If what my boyfriend has been telling me is true… nobody’s ruining anything today.”

“What has your boyfriend been telling you? I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of you.”

“Who you trust and who you don’t trust don’t matter right now,” Jisung interrupts. “Let’s just have fun, okay?”

“You sure are having fun, because I’m not,” Donghyuck barks again. “And even if I try to justify it as a ‘victory kiss’ later—technically, he should be the one who gives it to me, not the other way around!”

Jeno hums delightfully. “Big fucking deal, Hyuck, just kiss him and tell him to kiss you back right after. He’ll return the favor. Mark’s a nice guy.”

They have reached the glass door by now, and Donghyuck’s heart already starts doing that thing where it leaps around uncontrollably inside of his chest. Combined with the there-again ache on his ankle, it’s the worst state he’s ever been in yet. He can’t possibly calm himself down. Not now, not ever.

“Incoming!” Jisung whisper-yells, and Donghyuck’s insides turn into ice.

Donghyuck silently (and with extreme fright) starts to count the ticking seconds. Fuck, he messes up. He takes a deep breath and tries to start again, but Mark’s voice already greets them, “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

Donghyuck closes his eyes and exhales. This is it. This is how he’ll end.

“Uh, we’re okay,” Jeno answers for them. Donghyuck hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he knows he’s wearing that smug look on his face. If someone will please remind him to smack Jeno right across of his pretty face later, he’ll be grateful. “Donghyuck has something to tell you.”

“Donghyuck?” Mark calls out, and Donghyuck finally opens his eyes. Jeno’s knuckles are pressed hard against his lower back, either in mock support or whatever else, Donghyuck doesn’t know or care. Mark continues, “Hey, you’re looking really pale. Are you okay?”

“No,” Donghyuck answers honestly. “No, I’m not okay. Come closer, Mark.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, but does as he was asked. Donghyuck manages to get a slight look of him before he leans in closer – his honey-blond hair is pushed up his forehead with Jaemin’s hairclips, face damp with sweat, unsure smile on his lips, lopsided T-shirt collar – before Donghyuck grabs him by the cheeks and kiss him full on the mouth.

The first thing that crosses his mind is not the way Mark’s lips taste (which are dry but still nice, by the way), but okay, maybe I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.

The second thing he notices is Jeno’s loud shriek – quite impossible not to since he’s right next to him, too, with one hand on Donghyuck’s back – and then, both of Jisung and Chenle’s hollers. Their reactions aren’t surprising, though, so Donghyuck ignores them. Not hard, really, because Mark takes up a lot of his focus. Kissing Mark takes up a lot of his focus.

When he pulls back at last, Mark’s face is blank.

The adrenaline fades from Donghyuck’s veins, and his head turns dizzy again. Mark’s face is still vacant of any expression – no, wait, he looks confused, Donghyuck thinks. Well, he has a reason to be. He has many reasons to be.

Jeno clutches on the back of Donghyuck’s shirt and says, either distraught or thrilled, Donghyuck can’t really tell, “Dude, I meant on the cheek!”

Donghyuck blinks. Once. Twice. And then after he blinks for the third time, he slowly turns his head to look at Jeno. His face must be in a dire need of colors right now.

“What?”

“I thought—I thought you knew I was telling you to kiss him on the cheek!” Jeno continues, nervously flailing his hand to point at Mark’s still-frozen face. “Not on the—not on the mouth! I would never suggest that!”

“But I thought—“ Donghyuck begins, and he looks back at Mark in panic. Mark’s eyes are still on him, but now his parted lips have clasped together into a thin line. “Shit, Jeno! Sorry, Mark, this is all fucking dumb and I can’t explain but we’re all stupid here—“

“Donghyuck, uh,” Mark finally speaks out, putting his hand up to stop him from talking. Once again, Donghyuck shuts up without a complain. “That’s fine. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Donghyuck assures him. “Don’t try to be nice, Mark. Sorry I did that out of nowhere—this is all because of the bet—“

“What bet? No, wait, you can tell me later,” Mark says, checking his watch (not imaginary now). “We still have plans after this, right?”

“Yeah?” Donghyuck’s ears are ringing, and his finger are twitching behind his back, on top of Jeno’s arm. “Yeah, if you want?”

“I do,” Mark says. He smiles, which makes Donghyuck’s already half-dying heart wants to burst even more. Then he leans in again to peck Donghyuck on the lips. It’s short, chaste, and Donghyuck can barely feel the kiss, but he did that.

Mark Lee did That.

To him. On his own accord.

Something that Donghyuck could even barely dare to imagine before all this… all these disasters (not really, though).

“See you later,” Mark says softly, before he pats Donghyuck on the arm and walks past them in a hurry. “I’ll pick you up!”

As soon as Mark vanishes, Jeno grabs Donghyuck by the shoulders and shakes him. “Oh my god! Did he just kiss you?! Out of his own free will?!”

Donghyuck is too disoriented to think, but he murmurs, “Yeah. Yeah, I think he did.”

“Oh my god!” It’s Chenle’s turn to freak out now. “Hyung, does this mean—does this mean you guys are no longer friends? You’re like... more?”

Donghyuck doesn’t fucking know, but, “Yeah, probably.”

(Mark bends over the table to wipe off a bit of chocolate on the corner of Donghyuck’s lips an hour later, before sneakily brings his face down for another kiss, and Donghyuck thinks, yup, just friends don’t do this.)