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Donghyuck's mother calls it witch weather.
Everything seems to be in the precipice of a thunder clap as grey clouds roll in and clumsily tumble after one another. The sky rumbles again and from the van, Donghyuck watches the few people walking in the street collectively adjust their jackets at the whiff of air that sweeps over.
She says it’s the perpetual electric moment before a storm. The ancient magic crawling with negative energy in your skin. Never knowing when the rain will start to drop. Behind him, an umbrella presses persistently on the edges of his spine. Manager-hyung must have slid it in the van earlier this morning just in case.
Minutes later, the van tilts to a sharp curve at an exit, and Mark’s right cheek suddenly presses up to his shoulder. Country side hills start to swell in the distance, a landscape painting spilling three miles long until they get to the next city. Only when the road straightens and Mark doesn’t move his cheek from its spot on Donghyuck’s left shoulder does he realize there’s something up.
When he turns to see, Mark’s eyes have long fluttered close and he’s letting out stutters of exhales. Donghyuck lets out one himself too. Overhead, the clouds continue rolling, bringing in static electricity and a sudden change in the atmosphere.
It really isn’t that obvious at first. The next day, Mark is a bit harder to wake up than usual. He sneaks in a few coughs between practices as he clears his throat. A newly bought box of tissue disappears from Sicheng’s room. Two days later, Mark messes up the choreography a couple of times and gets chided because of it. Donghyuck chances a look at Mark and the choreographer talking in the side of the room during the break as he pretends to refill his water bottle.
Mark’s hands are clenched in his sides.
“That’s it for today,” the choreographer sighs to them an hour later, all nine condensed in a crimped circle around him. “Let’s work harder tomorrow, yeah?”
Donghyuck is paying attention and he sees Mark’s head lower at that. They all murmur regard and politeness, and eventually breathe out a tired exhale when the choreographer exits with a small hand towel in his right shoulder.
“Chicken and jjapchae for dinner?” asks Taeyong, eyes darting to everyone, gaze landing too long on Mark. “We can have take-outs.”
“Good idea,” Jaehyun says. “We all need a break.” He smiles at them at that and then ruffles Mark’s hair kindly and in quiet consideration as he crosses the room. Mark only manages a tired smile in response, fingers scratching his neck.
Donghyuck slides next to him, hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Lucky you’re on dish duty today. Not much to wash.”
“Yeah,” comes Mark’s response sotto voce. He clears his throat in lieu of a cough. There are little beads of sweat on his forehead, just below his light fringe, and Donghyuck’s pretty certain it’s not just from the practice. “Lucky.”
When Donghyuck sidles up to Mark later with a soft ‘boo!’ while washing the dishes, Mark drops the dishcloth in surprise.
“What was that for?” Mark laughs weakly—rasps, actually, with punctuated, quiet coughs. He flicks water droplets at Donghyuck’s face. Outside, Yuta and Doyoung are arguing about something Donghyuck can’t understand.
“Hey!” Donghyuck complains, but he’s chuckling too anyway. “I’m just here to return this glass.”
Mark shakes his head but he takes the glass from Donghyuck. His hands are warm and only now does Donghyuck notice that Mark’s body temperature is too. Mark snuffles, back of his hand coming up to rub his nose, and then he looks at Donghyuck weirdly when he notices Donghyuck is still here. Gazing.
Donghyuck can’t help but ask, looking at the droop in Mark’s lids. “You okay?”
“I mean”—Mark sniffs, coughs again—“why wouldn’t I be?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t you be?” Donghyuck tilts his head. “You’re warm, though?”
Mark furrows his eyebrows.
Donghyuck’s hands come to rest on Mark’s nape, and he ignores the pleased ruffle in his chest when Mark’s blinking stutters to a pause in quiet indulgence. He looks very tired. This time, Donghyuck is already halfway sure Mark is sick. “Pop by in my room when you finish. We’ll check your temperature.”
“37.8.” Donghyuck waves the beeping thermometer in front of Mark’s face. Mark squints, catching it in his gaze, almost cross-eyed. “Knew it.”
Mark sniffs, his nose red. “Which means—“
“Yeah, which means…” Donghyuck peters off, then suddenly yells out the door for the whole dorm to hear. “Taeyong-hyung! Mark-hyung is sick!”
It’s as if Mark’s fever worsened when they find out he’s sick. It brings fitful coughing that echoes in the whole dorm the whole morning. Taeyong notes this with a quiet tsk over breakfast. Donghyuck, drinking water beside the counter, quietly pours Mark a warm glass too. Jaehyun looks at him in the corridor on Donghyuck’s tread to Mark’s room to bring the glass of water.
“I can stay in the dorm, really, if you want,” Doyoung is telling Mark when he enters the room. “I can talk to our manager.”
“Thanks but you don’t really need to, hyung.” Mark sinks into the duvet. “I can manage.”
“Yeah, Mark-hyung’s a big boy already. He can take care of himself,” Donghyuck says, announcing his arrival. Mark looks over at him with a sleepy blink. Donghyuck raises the glass of water in indication.
Doyoung sighs, not quite convinced but relenting anyway. “I’m going to brush my teeth. Donghyuck, ready to go?”
“Be out in a minute,” Donghyuck says, straightening the coaster on Mark’s night stand. His body bag rests in his tailbone. He hears Doyoung leave and footsteps fade. “Are they treating you like an invalid?”
Mark laughs weakly, then hacks in stutters after. “Wouldn’t really describe it like that. But Doyoung-hyung’s nagging again.”
Donghyuck snorts with a slight smile. “When is he not?”
There are two tablets of medicine on the table and an almost empty roll of tissue. When he looks, Mark’s eyes are already halfway closed. “I gotta go now. Call us if you need anything.”
Mark hums in response. He buries his head in too-fluffed up pillows and sinks further in satin, coughing lightly. Donghyuck sees a small snot in his nose and muffles his laughter. Before they leave the dorm, he grabs a new roll of tissue from the bathroom cupboard. He detours to Mark’s room and leaves it on the older boy’s night stand, chancing one last look at the fort of pillows comfortably snug around Mark’s resting head before leaving.
It’s drizzling lightly by night fall. The sound of something sizzling prickles against the pitter-patter of raindrops outside. A familiar scent of soup wafts in the air, something Taeyong makes whenever someone’s sick. Mark is coughing.
“I think it’s the early winter’s changing weather,” Donghyuck says from his spot on the floor. Mark is lying on the couch behind and it seems as though it has morphed to snugly fit Mark’s form for the past few days. The day’s news and tomorrow’s weather forecast murmur on the television.
“Hm?”
“The changing weather,” Donghyuck repeats. On the TV, animated rainclouds line up in the first two days of the week’s calendar followed by grey ones and eventually one with the sun peeking out from behind. “I think that’s what caused your fever. My mom explained it to me once.”
Mark rustles and coughs twice, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Well either that, or you’re overworking yourself again. You should take care of yourself, hyung.”
Donghyuck turns his head in time to see Mark’s closed eyes flutter open slowly like wispy wings of a moth, ready to take flight. Taeyong is calling out from the kitchen, their dinner finally ready. “You too, Donghyuck,” Mark says in a soft voice prompted by his itchy throat. The moth wings flutter again but instead, it’s Donghyuck’s heart that takes flight.
“His fever’s not going away, is it?” Johnny asks in the hallway. Donghyuck’s holding an empty glass, about to refill it with more water in the kitchen, and he pauses.
“No,” Donghyuck says slowly. “His cough, too.” Just in time, Mark emphasizes this statement with a series of coughs from the bedroom.
“Ah.” Johnny nods. He looks down at the glass in Donghyuck’s hand, then back up to Donghyuck’s eyes. “Poor kid.”
Donghyuck only laughs and walks past, wooden floor under his toes. He pads to the kitchen and refills Mark’s empty glass with lukewarm water.
Donghyuck doesn’t hear it properly, but Mark is murmuring something against his pillowcase.
“Sorry, what?” Donghyuck says. Somewhere in the room, Doyoung is grabbing a change of clothes and snuffing it in his bag.
“I said”—Mark coughs—“you should bring an umbrella.”
“Why? Is it going to rain?” Donghyuck asks. Mark jostles and turns to blearily blink at him, sleeping shirt sticking to his skin.
“There’s a chance it might,” Mark says, and it sounds like someone’s scraping sandpaper on his throat. “We watched the weather forecast last night, didn’t you hear?”
Mark moves again restlessly, adjusting the blankets. It raises slightly on one side and Donghyuck can see a bit of Mark’s waist bare from where his sleeping shirt has risen. Donghyuck looks away.
“No, not really,” he says. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Halfway through vocal practice in the afternoon, Donghyuck remembers his mother. He feels sweet, imaginary flavors in this throat as he warms up his voice. The flavors are remnants from the last time he’d gotten sick and suffered with a week of cough.
Later when they disperse in the night, Donghyuck doesn’t go straight to the dorm. He takes a detour with his manager to the grocery and notes, looking up at the sky in the parking lot, that it didn’t rain that day. Still, an umbrella—Mark’s, not his—sits in his bag, ready for any possible downpour.
“Hey,” Mark greets with a rasp when Donghyuck finally comes to his room. “Where were you? Taeil-hyung said you went off with manager-hyung somewhere.”
“Went off to buy this,” Donghyuck says, then raises the bottle of honey and a sliced up lemon in his hands. Mark squints at it, bed hair sticking up. Donghyuck thinks he looks silly.
“What’s that?”
“Something for your cough,” Donghyuck replies, then gestures with light movement to the bed. “Scoot over.”
Mark does, and Donghyuck sits on the edge where the fabric is ruffled and warm with Mark’s body heat. He clumsily places the bottle of honey and slice of lemon on the bedside table, moving aside two opened pills and a half empty glass of water. He opens the bottle with his free fingers, spoon held between his thumb and forefinger. The honey’s a rich color of brown, viscid and thick from where it sits in the bottle.
“My mom used to do this whenever I had sore throat or cough,” Donghyuck starts, gingerly raising the bottle and lightly shaking it just to see. He holds the spoon properly. “She’d take a spoonful of honey and squeeze in lemon and spoon feed it to me. I like the taste and it almost always works.”
“Almost always?”
“Yeah, except for that one time I had a cough for almost two weeks,” Donghyuck says. “Turns out it was more than that. I had yellow dust fever when they had me checked out by a doctor. I hate spring.”
Mark laughs, then coughs again. Donghyuck clicks his tongue as he squeezes in lemon. He’s put in too much honey and the liquid almost overflows so he quickly gestures to Mark.
“Say ‘ah’.” Donghyuck holds up the spoon, holding his left palm below in case some of it drips and gets to the bed case. Taeyong would have a fit.
Mark opens up and takes it into his mouth. Unfortunately, a bit of the honey falls and drips on Donghyuck’s hand, just below his thumb. Mark makes a face but the crease in his forehead evens as the taste settles in his tongue and down his throat.
Donghyuck licks the little, leftover honey from his thumb but the taste doesn’t quite reach his tongue. Mark looks at him. “Thanks. It’s sweet,” he says, and Donghyuck thinks he agrees.
It becomes a habit for the next few days: Donghyuck comes to Mark’s room in the morning and at night to refill glasses of water and bring in honey and lemon. Donghyuck almost thinks of talking to manager-hyung to stay for the day, contrary to what Mark wants them to do, but stops himself. Mark’s getting a bit better anyway and Donghyuck can’t miss one day of practice.
The others don’t say anything about it. Even Taeyong and Doyoung have lessened their fussing and left Donghyuck to take care of Mark. Taeil, though, comments on it.
“Is he getting better, Doc?” he asks, towel and clothes in hand.
Donghyuck ignores the last word. “Hopefully. His fever is getting better, but he’s still coughing.”
Johnny passes by them, having just got out from the bathroom. His fingers are buried in his towel as he threads wet locks of his hair. “Maybe he’s got winter fever.”
“Winter fever,” Donghyuck parrots, almost stumbling over the f with a p. Johnny shoulders past him. The sliced lemon is warm in his hands. “Huh.”
“Check his temperature again,” Taeil says. “I think he’s well now, except for the cough. We’ll stock up on more lemons, I guess.”
Donghyuck nods then walks to Mark’s room. He toes open the ajar door and sees Doyoung look up from his phone. Mark’s eyes are closed as he lies on his bed. Donghyuck raises the honey and lemon, and Doyoung smiles with a nod in quiet understanding.
They are standing on the bathroom floor in silence. Minutes later, the thermometer under Mark’s tongue beeps and Donghyuck’s face falls when he hears familiar, insistent beeps instead of the normal, consecutive small ones.
“But it’s almost back to normal, right?” Mark says. “It was higher two days ago.”
“I guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “Have you been taking your medicine?”
Mark nods.
“Let’s try again,” Donghyuck says, and then taps the thermometer against Mark’s lips. When he parts it open, Donghyuck’s finger falls on it. There’s a thin, almost infinitesimal moment of silence before he pulls away. Fingers burning, Donghyuck wonders whether it’s the pulse in his finger or if there really is a heartbeat, somewhere, in Mark’s lips.
“Open up,” Donghyuck says, and Mark does. Lemon and honey sloshes down his throat. Winter sunlight filters in the kitchen curtains with a promise of a new day. For the first time, they are the first ones awake.
“I think I’m feeling better,” Mark says, voice scratchy, sandpapered with sleep and the flu.
“That’s good.” Donghyuck twists the cap on the bottle back and throws the slice of lemon in the bin. “You’re not fully well, though. And might still need maybe a few days.”
Mark clears his throat. “Two.”
Donghyuck turns to him. “Sorry?”
“Two days.” Mark clears his throat again; Donghyuck gets him a glass of water. “Give me two days and I’ll get better.”
Donghyuck can see it: the way Mark’s eyes glaze over them with something as they leave for practice. He knows Mark is already itching to get back up and get to work. Catch up on what he missed. But even their manager agrees that he should rest more so Mark really can’t do anything about it.
“Maybe Johnny-hyung is right,” Donghyuck says. “Maybe you have… winter fever.”
When he turns to see, Mark is looking at him with incredulous eyes. “Winter fever?”
“Yeah, he told me you might have it.” Donghyuck shrugs. “Why, is there something wrong?”
Mark looks unsure. “I… don’t think Johnny-hyung means it the way you think he means it.”
Donghyuck furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“It’s…” he bites his lip. A strand of his hair sticks up and Donghyuck, in habit—naturally—pets it down. Mark’s face ruffles. “No, never mind.”
Donghyuck opens his mouth to say something but Sicheng and Taeyong are already walking to the kitchen, fists in yawning mouths and twin blinking eyes. “Help me make breakfast?” Taeyong says and really, Mark and Donghyuck can’t say no to that.
The rest of NCT venture out during their rest day save for Mark, Taeil, and Donghyuck. This time, they’re in the kitchen again as Donghyuck makes honey lemon water for Mark. Taeil is tucked somewhere in his bed with his phone. It’s a grey day today, and rainclouds litter in the sky, about to pour any minute.
Halfway through mixing honey in the tumbler, Mark talks.
“You and Taeil-hyung should have come with them,” he says. “It’s fine with me.”
“We didn’t want to come anyway, ” Donghyuck replies, and it’s a half truth, half lie. “So it’s fine. Besides, I’m glad I didn’t. I think it’s about to rain.”
Mark looks out the window. “It is.” Then, he stays quiet—a pause, pensive—before he talks again. “I never got to say this but um, thanks. For taking care of me.”
Donghyuck finishes making the honey lemon water and when he tries to take a sip, it’s just the right type of sweet. “No problem,” he hesitates, “You… would have done the same anyway. I guess?”
Mark’s voice is quiet, but certain. “I would.”
“You and the rest of the hyungs. It’s what we do. Look out for each other.” He trails out a soft laugh in the end. Mark smiles, and his eyes flit to Donghyuck’s with a clear gaze so very much unlike the fog of clouds outside. It gives Donghyuck a bit of confidence. “But for you, I’d do it all the time.”
This time, the smile reaches up to Mark’s eyes. “Yeah? And why’s that?”
“Because…” The tumbler is warm in his grip. His fingers graze against Mark’s when he places it on the table. “Because I like you.”
Mark’s grin burns electric in Donghyuck’s skin that rivals the negative energy pooling in the stratosphere. “I like you too.” Outside, the skies crack open for a thunder clap that lights up the charcoal sky. The rain comes in small drizzles, then drops in full force. Finally.
Donghyuck’s grin mirrors Mark’s, and he’s pretty sure the warmth in both their cheeks doesn’t come from the warm drink in the tumbler, where their fingers press against each other’s in a light kiss.
The thermometer sits on Mark’s tongue. In the hallway outside the bathroom door, Yuta gives them a curious glance but eventually leaves them to pad through on the way to Taeyong’s room.
It beeps minutes later. Consecutive, normal beats that makes Donghyuck grin.
“There it is,” Mark laughs. It trails off to light coughs in the end though, and Donghyuck’s grin 180s to a frown.
“But you’re still coughing.”
“I am.” Mark coughs again. “It’s gonna be fine, though. This will be gone too in a few days. Besides…” his eyes twinkle. “What’s there to worry about? I’ve got you and lemon and honey, anyway.”
Donghyuck looks at him with so much fondness in his eyes. His eyes trail down to Mark’s lips, where the right corner still has a sliver of honey drip. “Can I kiss you?”
Mark looks taken aback but he laughs, cheeks flushed, after a few seconds. “Maybe next time when I’m fully well.”
Donghyuck’s groan echoes in the bathroom.
Mark finally comes back to practice and everything falls back to normal. He breaks into coughs halfway through, and the members immediately stop to look at him. Donghyuck reaches for his backpack to grab the tumbler of honey lemon water. Mark glazes over him with a thankful look.
That night as Donghyuck spoon feeds him lemon and honey, Mark looks at Donghyuck’s lips a bit too long so Donghyuck gives up with a soft ‘fuck it’ and presses his lips against Mark’s. The surprised sound that hiccups from Mark’s mouth makes the corners of Donghyuck’s lips quirk up to a pleased smile in the kiss. There is a heartbeat in Mark’s lips, Donghyuck confirms, and it beats in a rhythm similar to Donghyuck’s own. He tastes like lemon and honey and all the sweet things winter and the changing weather allows them to have.