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Despite the biting cold, Mark takes his time as he walks back home, in no rush to return to an empty house on Christmas Eve. His flatmates have gone back to their respective hometowns and families, but he himself doesn’t have the money to go all the way back to Canada to spend Christmas with his own. Instead, he’s stuck here by himself, left to see the festivities around him and then go home to pretend it’s just any other normal night.
Even Donghyuck, his boyfriend, won’t be around. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to refuse his parents’ invitation (order) to return home. Mark often wonders why they want to see him so badly when they treat him like he’s hardly their son when he’s there, but Donghyuck just tells him that’s how it’s always been. Perhaps one day he’ll be free.
For now, Mark is walking down the street, hands shoved deep into his pockets and his breath misting in front of him. Everything around him looks like a picture-perfect Christmas, from the snow dusting the trees and buildings to the twinkling lights in the shop windows. But of course, that’s only what he sees. To others, he thinks, it wouldn’t be so perfect, because he’d be in the picture.
The weirdest thing is that he can feel memories the whole way – in a year and a bit, he and Donghyuck had left little fragments of memories in every place he knew. He sees it now in that little restaurant he’s walking past. It had been that very place that Mark had taken Donghyuck out for the first time, and stared, mesmerised, at the candlelight reflecting in his eyes. Donghyuck had told him afterwards that he worked at that restaurant on off days, but that the date had been lovely regardless.
There are candles flickering inside now, just like the ones from that night. Looking closer, Mark sees fairy lights and holly adorning the tables as well, and feels a pang of loneliness. Instead, he studies the chalkboard at the entrance, advertising a variety of dishes. There’s a Christmas tree drawn at the bottom right corner, and beneath that, there are a few little words. Mark bends down to read them.
“You made a mark on my heart,” it reads, with a winking face for good measure. Mark thinks he must be imagining things, but it looks like Donghyuck’s handwriting, and that line – Mark’s replayed the moment too many times in his mind to forget it. 14 months ago, those words were followed by a twinkling giggle, and then serious, warm eyes; they were followed by the words “I love you, Mark Lee, more than anything.”
“I love you more,” Mark whispers to the wind around him, as if it could carry the message to Donghyuck. Perhaps it’s a coincidence that this little sign reminds him of that time, but he’s grateful for it either way.
There’s a bench a little farther on down the street, and the memory attached to that place is clear in Mark’s mind even before he gets to it. That hour sitting there had been an eternity inching closer and closer, waiting for the inevitable; it had been Mark’s hands fidgeting in his lap and then crawling up Donghyuck’s forearms and then cupping his jaw; it had been Donghyuck’s eyes doing everything but meeting his and Donghyuck muttering “if I look at you I’ll have to kiss you.”
Mark had replied “then do it.”
Today, that bench is covered in snow – an untouched layer of fresh whiteness. The only thing that taints it is what looks almost like a streak of blood from a distance. Mark walks over and picks up a red ribbon, twisting it between his fingers.
Going on a little further, he comes to the local park. The pine tree at the entrance has been decorated like a Christmas tree (this happens every year without fail, and having never seen anyone physically decorate it, Mark has concluded that the tree must have decorated itself). There’s always tinsel and candy canes and pretty little baubles hanging from its branches, and today is no exception. There’s even a present sitting underneath, wrapped in sparkly red wrapping paper that looks vaguely familiar to Mark.
He kneels down, picking up the present and turning it over in his hands. It’s not a fake, he’s surprised to discover - there’s definitely something in it. A little tag is stuck to one side, with the recipient named as… himself. “To: Mark Lee.” Mark shakes his head disbelievingly, but the words remain. Shrugging, he starts to unwrap it. He’s definitely seen this wrapping paper before, but he can’t remember where.
When a little notebook reveals itself through the wrapping, he knows where it was from immediately. There’s no mistaking that it’s a black counterpart to the pink one he had gotten Donghyuck for his birthday earlier that year, even wrapped in the same paper. He flips it open to the first page, and sure enough, a message is written there, just like he had put in Donghyuck’s.
“I liked mine a lot so I got you this… now we’re matching :) love you xx”
Fighting a smile, Mark gets up and continues on his way home. There isn’t far to go, and he arrives at his front door quickly. He’s just about to get out his keys to enter when the door opens by itself, shocking him so much that he stumbles back and almost falls.
An arm shoots out and wraps itself around his waist, steadying him, as a familiar scent engulfs him. Mark looks up to see Donghyuck smiling down at him as if he was meant to be there all along.
“I- I thought- aren’t you supposed to be at home?” Mark straightens himself, and then launches his entire body back into Donghyuck’s arms without even bothering to enter the door properly. “Why are you here, why didn’t you say so, please don’t leave…”
Mark hears soft giggles muffled in his shoulder, and then Donghyuck is shushing him, a finger pressed to his lips. “Did you see all the little surprises I left you?” When Mark gasps and nods, Donghyuck wiggles a little in excitement. “Well, this is the actual gift.”
Mark stares dumbly for a second, his mind too busy drinking in the sight of his boyfriend in front of him to actually think. “You?” he finally suggests.
“Mhm,” Donghyuck replies, soft, peaceful smile on his lips as he leans into Mark’s chest. “I’m all yours.”
Without really thinking, Mark’s hand reaches to take Donghyuck’s into his, rubbing circles into his hand as if to confirm that he’s really there. He doesn’t think he can find the voice to speak, at this point.
Donghyuck watches him, and then lifts his eyes up to stare straight into Mark’s. “Well,” he says. “Are you going to unwrap your gift or not?”