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Mark doesn’t like staying up that late, despite popular belief.
Okay, so Donghyuck’s the only one who actually believes he stays up all night, and maybe it’s because Mark has notifications from Donghyuck set as urgent just in case he’s asleep when he gets texts from him, but what Donghyuck doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Actually, Donghyuck’s the one who stays up all night sitting in the corner between his bed and the wall (he says it makes him feel safer, but from what, Mark doesn’t know) doing who knows what on his laptop. At first Mark thought it was a porn thing- after all, the corner’s far away from the door, in case one of Donghyuck’s brothers walk in on him. But after a lot of nagging, Donghyuck had finally admitted the truth.
“I can’t sleep very well by myself,” he’d pouted one morning in Mark’s car while waiting in Jaemin’s driveway. “I’m so used to my brothers and their annoying snoring that it feels too quiet. Before, if there were any demons or something, they’d be like demon bait. But now I’m the only one in there, so if anyone gets their soul sucked out, it’s me.”
Mark had shaken his head in confusion, said, “Dude, you’re not even scared of demons. You’re the one who always wants to watch horror movies. What’s actually wrong?”
Donghyuck had huffed noisily, slouched down in the passenger seat, arms crossed in front of his chest, and grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like “Stop being smart, Mark Lee.”
“I just can’t sleep, okay?” He’d admitted after a lot of prodding, “I don’t know why. Maybe there isn’t a reason, but I can’t fall asleep most of the time.”
“Oh,” Mark had said dumbly, and before he’d known it, he’d been fibbing, “I don’t sleep that much at night either, so just text me or something next time you can’t sleep.”
At first, it had been hushed conversations whispered into the fogged up screen of his phone, Donghyuck’s voice soft and uncertain in his ears, until the first strains of sunlight kissed his windowpanes. It’s Mark trying to sound as awake as possible even though most of the time, he’s just woken up from the phone’s ringer.
They don’t talk about anything in particular. Exams, friends, how Jisung is slowly getting tall enough to overpower all of them (Donghyuck’s favorite explanation for that particular topic involves body snatchers and alien abduction, much to Mark’s amusement).
Then one night, Donghyuck breathes over the receiver, voice staticky and slurred with exhaustion, “I wish you were here right now. I miss you.”
A flicker of heat flares up at the base of Mark’s spine at the words. He tucks the phone between his shoulder and ear, sits up and reaches for his pants- yeah, maybe sometimes he’s thought about doing some pretty nasty stuff with Donghyuck on the other line, but he’d never actually do it…unless Donghyuck wants to, that is. Because that’s a totally different story, and Mark’s so, completely-
“Why are you rustling around so much? You better not be jerking off while talking to me, you freak.”
“I’m not,” Mark says quickly, “I’m gonna come pick you up, if you want.”
Surprise lilts Donghyuck’s voice high. “Really?”
“Sure,” Mark agrees easily, tugging his sweatpants up and reaching for the keys and wallet on his desk. He slides both into his pocket and grabs the phone right before it slips down the side of his face and falls. “I’ll be there in ten.”
Quietly, Donghyuck murmurs, “You’re a good boyfriend.”
“I’m the best boyfriend,” Mark corrects, glancing quickly in the mirror. Oh god, no. He shoves a hat over his hair, pulls the disheveled strands back, and really hopes the darkness covers the fact that he hasn’t shaved all weekend. Not that it matters much, because Mark couldn’t grow a beard if his life depended on it, but he smooths his hand along the edge of his jaw, feels prickles against the pads of his fingers.
Sneaking out of his house proves to be much more difficult than he’d anticipated. On his way down the stairs, every step under his feet creaks morbidly, and he takes extra care to breath slowly, as inaudibly as possible.
Of course, Johnny’s standing in the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand, eyes still half shut.
“Either I just saw a ghost,” he says, mouth curling into a half smile, “Or my brother’s an idiot who doesn’t know that the back door makes less noise than the front.”
Mark freezes, shoes in his hands. His heart thumps unevenly from the surprise of being caught. “Go back to your dorm,” he hisses, cursing the fact that Johnny’s semester ends earlier than his. “Also, Dad fixed the front door last month, so fuck you.”
Johnny shrugs, puts the empty water glass onto the counter with much more noise than necessary. Mark flinches at the sharp sound.
“Have fun doing whatever debaucherous things you high school kids do these days,” Johnny mumbles, brushing past him to the stairs, “Don’t drink and drive. Don’t have unprotected sex. Tell Donghyuck I say hey.”
“Fuck you,” Mark says again, then slowly eases the door open. Before he shuts it behind him, he whisper-yells, “I never drink and drive!”
His brother only hums sleepily, already halfway up the stairs. Mark gets the point.
The neighborhood’s strange at night, he observes as he pulls out of the driveway and down the street. It’s so alive with kids during the day, filling the streets with their loud shrieks. Right now, it’s almost eerily silent, and the low rumble of his engine feels like the only noise in the world.
He pulls up a little ways down the street from Donghyuck’s house just in case, then shoots him a text. Come downstairs, I almost risked getting caught for your ass.
It takes a minute, but Donghyuck’s silhouette separates from the shadowy house, and then he’s slipping into the passenger seat, dressed in one of Johnny’s old basketball jerseys he’d stolen from Mark and not much else.
“What?” He asks, tugging it down the lean span of his thigh. It looks like dark honey in the sparse light of Mark’s car.
He shuts his door sharply, and it startles Mark out of his stupor. “Nothing,” he says too quickly, “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere,” Donghyuck says, and tips his head back against the seat. “I just wanted to see you.”
“I’m going to throw up all over my car if you keep sweet talking like that.”
“Sweet words for a sweet boyfriend.”
Mark’s flushed all the way up to the tips of his ears, but he clears his throat roughly and puts the car in drive, slowly driving down the length of the street. Muscle memory takes him in the direction of their school, and he lets it happen.
The parking lot is empty, but Mark pulls into his usual spot anyways. Then, he stops the car, turns the headlights off.
Donghyuck’s pulled his knees up into the seat, somehow managing to fit all his slender limbs into the tiny space. “You look tired,” he says in a small voice.
Mark knows that voice. Donghyuck likes being obnoxious and needy in front of their friends, but behind that voice is guilt, bearing down on the younger boy. “It’s fine,” he assures automatically.
Slowly, Donghyuck reaches a hand out, runs his thumb along the curve of skin under Mark’s eye. Mark lets his eyes fall shut, feels Donghyuck’s thumb brush against the tips of his lashes, disrupting them.
Donghyuck shifts even closer, enough so that Mark can feel his breath along his lower lip. Mark looks down, eyes dragging over his puffy soft mouth before they slide back up to his face. Donghyuck’s hand slides from his cheek to his jaw, still touching him gently.
“You didn’t shave,” he says, fingers recoiling when they go to trace the line of his jaw. Then, hesitantly putting them back on the prickly skin, “It’s kind of hot.”
The words hang in the air between them for a minute, and Mark takes a deep breath, then clicks his seatbelt open. Donghyuck picks up on his mood, undoes his own seatbelt, and then they’re kissing frantically, Mark’s hands snaking through Donghyuck’s hair, Donghyuck’s hands still cupping Mark’s jaw.
Mark lets Donghyuck ease his mouth open with his tongue, their mouths fitting and unfitting with fervor and heat. Mark’s heart is beating erratically, pounding against his sternum, and Donghyuck makes a noise when he pulls away, whiny and high in his throat, and it makes Mark’s insides flood with heat.
“Hyuck,” he groans, “Calm down before I die, please.”
“Good,” Donghyuck says tugging him closer to fit their mouths together again. Between hot kisses against Mark’s bottom lip, he gets the words out, “I’ll finally be rid of you.”
How he’s managing to talk while sucking Mark’s tongue at the same time, he has no idea, but Donghyuck’s a boy of many talents.
Mark’s lips are beginning to feel raw from Donghyuck’s rough kissing, and he pulls away a little, rubs the back of his hand across his swollen mouth. Donghyuck’s eyes are heavy and lidded, his lips reddened and slick with spit, and Mark runs his thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. It’s as soft as it looks, dipping under the slightest pressure.
Donghyuck’s tongue flicks out a tiny bit, laps over the pad of Mark’s finger, and Mark makes a choked noise, pulls his hand away like it’s been burned.
Donghyuck chases his hand, grabs it between his own, and presses a kiss to the edge of Mark’s knuckles.
“Cute,” Mark observes, pulling his hand away, “Cuter than normal, at least. Maybe I should sneak out to see you more often.”
Sleepy Donghyuck is Donghyuck without snark or bite. It’s Donghyuck nuzzling into the crook of his neck, lazily pressing kisses into the warm skin, Mark stroking his hair gently while he sucks dark bruises against the base of his throat. It’s the sweet smile he gives Mark when he decides he’s done, and Mark feels like half his neck is covered with Donghyuck’s spit and he’s definitely going to have to wear a scarf to school in the middle of May.
“Let’s go,” He whispers into the curve of Mark’s shoulder, “We have school tomorrow.”
Mark presses one last sloppy kiss to his forehead, nudges him with his shoulder to make him move. “We can’t go if you fall asleep on me.”
Donghyuck grumbles under his breath but shifts back into his seat, pulls on the seatbelt.
Driving home is even eerier. Every light on their block is off, and one of the street lamps across from Jaemin’s house has begun to flicker on and off, bathing them in periodic darkness.
Donghyuck lets his head tip forward, forehead against the cool window glass, lets his eyes droop shut until the light of the street lamps melt into one long golden stream. He reaches out without looking, and Mark sees the embarrassed flush rise in his neck and cheek, even though his face is turned away. Mark slips a hand into his, and Donghyuck presses Mark’s palm to his thigh. “I like it when you do that thing,” he mutters into the glass.
“What thing?” Mark wonders, even though he knows exactly what thing. He rubs his palm up the length of Donghyuck’s thigh, then back down, and Donghyuck lets out a tiny pleased sigh, making the glass fog up.
“Mm,” Donghyuck breathes, “You know what thing.”
Mark uses his thumb to trace a circle into the inside of Donghyuck’s knee, and then sweeps his palm up again, until he reaches the bottom of Donghyuck’s shorts.
“You gonna sleep?” Mark asks. His own eyes burn a bit from exhaustion, but he blinks stubbornly, keeps driving down the long stretch of road. Donghyuck only hums back, his voice barely audible.
By the time he’s pulling into Donghyuck’s driveway, the younger boy’s nearly asleep, his breathing smoothed out. “Thanks,” he mumbles, fumbling with his seatbelt until Mark undoes it for him.
“Any time,” Mark promises, kissing his pinky and pressing it to Donghyuck’s nose. Donghyuck wrinkles his nose halfheartedly.
“Goodnight, baby,” Mark calls quietly as Donghyuck hoists himself out of the car on heavy feet, begins shuffling towards his front door.
Donghyuck waves weakly, then disappears into his house. For a long time, Mark sits in his car, the words right on the tip of his tongue, so ready to spill forth that he thinks he’ll burst. “I love you,” he calls to the shut door.
It doesn’t respond.