Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Donghyuck?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you too, dumbass.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

***

The bell over the door tinkles merrily to announce the entrance of a customer to Regular Cafe. Mark looks up from the table he's cleaning, expecting to see one of their regulars– probably a stressed college student desperate to load up on caffeine despite the new semester not starting until tomorrow. It is, in fact, a familiar face, but one that he hasn’t seen for almost a year, and Mark freezes.

The boy has grown a few centimeters, and his once-round face has lost much of its baby fat, leaving a sharper jawline; the bright red hair Mark remembers has been replaced by a more muted auburn shade, but Mark would recognise those bright eyes, that tan skin, those heart shaped lips anywhere. He still sees flashes of those features behind his eyelids when he tries to sleep most nights.

Thankfully Dejun and Kun are manning the front today, leaving Mark free to escape into the backroom(hopefully) before the boy in the doorway can catch sight of him, pausing only to grab Yukhei by the collar and drag him along.

“What was that for, dude?” Yukhei says bewilderedly, tugging himself free of Mark’s grip. Catching sight of Mark’s panicked face, his annoyance softens to concern. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost,” Mark breathes. “It’s Donghyuck.”

Yukhei’s eyes widen comically, and Mark would laugh at the expression if he wasn’t sure his was worse. 

“Donghyuck? As in, Donghyuck your ex? The Donghyuck you broke up with and then cried for four days straight and never dated anyone since? That Donghyuck?”

“Keep your voice down,” Mark hisses, chancing a brief peek around the doorframe. Thankfully, Donghyuck hasn’t seemed to notice Mark’s hasty retreat to the backroom, nor the less-than-quiet repetitions of his name. He’s leaning against the counter, chatting with Dejun as he makes his coffee, smiling the same bright smile that Mark remembers. Mark ducks back behind the wall before he can be spotted, heart pounding like a base drum. 

“Damn,” Yukhei stage-whispers, not bothering to conceal himself as pokes his head around the doorframe. “You weren’t lying when you said he was hot. Do you think he’s still single?”

“Dude. Not cool,” Mark grumbles, slumping into one of the mismatched, coffee stained chairs against the wall and rubbing his eyes as though to rid himself of Donghyuck's image burned into his retinas. “Please get back in here and stop checking out my ex.”

“Ah, I’m just kidding Markie,” Yukhei assures, taking a seat next to Mark and patting him on the back. “I’m not that bad of a friend.”

Yukhei isn’t a bad friend at all, in fact. Maybe not a fantastic roommate, what with his boisterous friends and love of parties, but a great friend. He was the first person Mark clicked with after starting university, and pretty much the only thing that got Mark through the breakup, unable to turn to any of his good friends from high school since they were all friends with Donghyuck as well and would undoubtedly take his side(not that Mark would blame them). Yukhei even went so far as to integrate Mark into his own group of friends, as well as recommend him for his current position at the cafe.

“What are you guys doing in here?” A tiredly stern voice asks. Kun, the manager and probably the nicest person Mark has met since starting university, appears from the kitchen with a tray of muffins in his oven-mitt clad hands. “It’s not your break yet.”

“Mark’s hiding from his ex,” replies Yukhei honestly.

Kun glances out the doorway to the front of the cafe, presumably at the boy standing at the counter, then nods. “Okay. Mark, you can stay here. Yukhei, get back to work.”

Yukhei gives Mark’s shoulder one more comforting squeeze before getting up. Kun sends him a consoling smile as he ushers Yukhei toward the pasty display cases in the front, hands still laden with muffins.

Only after Kun assures him that the coast is clear does Mark emerge from his hiding place.

***

When Mark moved from Canada to Korea at the beginning of his sophomore year of high school, he felt like he’d been thrown into another universe. He had considered his Korean quite good, but now it was almost like learning the language from scratch as he struggled to keep up with expressions and idioms and why does everyone talk so fast? He was friendless, helpless, and out of his depth,

So when a round-faced freshman boy stalked up to him, stuck out his hand, and said, in frankly atrocious English, “Canada boy! You, me, friends,” Mark accepted immediately.

***

In hindsight, Mark realises that he shouldn’t have been so utterly floored to see Lee Donghyuck in the back of his ten o’clock music history lecture the next day. After all, Mark knew that Donghyuck had been planning on attending NCTU since before Mark even met him. He was the one who encouraged Mark to apply there in the first place. Donghyuck stopping by Regular Cafe, which was right next to the campus and mostly served students, should have a been tip off as well. 

Much to the displeasure of the few students behind him, it takes a few seconds for Mark to recover his composure enough to unfreeze from the doorway and actually enter the lecture hall. Luckily, Donghyuck has his headphones in and is too focused on whatever he's typing on his phone to spare a glance for Mark. Coming to his senses, Mark tugs the hood of his jacket up and takes a seat on the end of the front row– as far as he can get from the other boy. He keeps his head tucked down and pulls out his notebook as well as his phone.

Markly:

Yukhei

Help

Hes in my music hist class

roomie:

Whos in ur class?

Markly:

Dude

Sos

roomie:

OH

OH DAMN

ITS HIM ISNT IT

Markly:

YES

roomie:

Did he see u????

Mark chances a glance toward the back of the room, heart lurching at the sight of Donghyuck pouting slightly as he rummages through his backpack, searching for something.

Markly:

I dont think so thank god

roomie:

If hes in ur class u cant avoid him forever bro

Markly:

Guess i better drop the class

roomie:

Isnt that a required credit for ur degree tho??

Mark cringes; Yukhei is right, music history is a prerequisite for a lot of classes in the Music Production major.

Markly:

Time to change my major ig

roomie:

Bro

U r not changing ur major because of your ex

Thats pathetic

Yukhei is, of course, absolutely correct, but Mark is saved having to admit that by the entrance of the professor. Tucking his phone away, Mark concentrates on the usual first-day-of-class drivel about the syllabus and grading scale. He keeps his hood up and his gaze resolutely fixed toward the front of the lecture hall, even as it simmers in the back of his brain– the longing seeming to ring through every cell of his body, the temptation to turn his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Donghyuck.

Mark is out of the door as soon as the professor dismisses them, allowing himself one glance back. Sunlight falls from one of the windows, catching like golden threads in Donghyuck’s auburn hair.

***

Mark’s music history class is held three times a week, and he makes it through all of three class periods without incident. Mark does his best to keep his head down and be as invisible as possible, and his efforts seem to pay off; if Donghyuck notices Mark at all, he doesn’t show it. After his lectures on Friday finish, Mark scurries to his shift at the cafe, relieved at having survived one week, but already dreading the looming prospect of doing the same thing again come Monday.

Mark’s coworkers, for their part, take the opportunity to interrogate him. 

“So,” Guanheng heckles as Mark ties on in his apron takes his place behind the register, “do you actually think you’ll be able to keep this up for the entire semester?”

“Yes!” Mark scowls. “It’s been going fine so far. He hasn’t noticed me.”

“And then what?” Dejun asks, looking genuinely concerned as opposed to the smirk on Guanheng’s face. “You go to the same school and apparently belong to the same department. You’re bound to run into him sometime.”

As if in answer to Dejun’s reasonable assertion, the bell above the door chimes, jolting a shock of panic down Mark’s spine as it had every time since Donghyuck came in last week. Mark’s startled gaze falls upon the familiar face of Kun’s freshman cousin Yangyang who occasionally works at the shop, but the relief is short lived; right on Yangyang’s heels, apparently laughing at something the other boy said, is Donghyuck.

Donghyuck’s gaze catches on Mark and his eyes widen, all mirth draining out of his face. He freezes in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights, prompting a confused look from Yangyang. Mark vaguely registers Dejun next to him, eyes flickering worriedly between him and the figure in the doorway.

“Mark,” Donghyuck finally utters, the near whisper carrying in the quiet cafe, and his voice snaps Mark out of his shock.

He bolts. It definitely isn’t the smartest or bravest or least-pathetic thing to do, but his rational brain is overridden by the need to be elsewhere, away from Donghyuck’s gaze. Through the employee-only doorway to the back of the shop, then out the back exit they use to bring in shipments of coffee beans and baking ingredients. He doesn’t stop running until he lets himself into his dorm, glad that Yukhei is still at an afternoon lecture. 

His phone buzzes. It’s probably been going off since he left the shop, but he hadn’t noticed. Sure enough, one message from Guanheng and several from Dejun blink up at him.

Donkey:

Ur speed would be impressive if that werent the most pathetic thing ive ever seen in my life

Mark doesn’t bother responding to that one.

dj xiao:

I havent seen someone that scared since guanheng and i went to a haunted house

Dont worry about coming back, yang offered to take the rest of your shift

We figured youd want some time to chill

Not that it really matters, ur ex left almost as soon as you did

As Mark types out a quick ‘thank you,’ another message comes in.

yangx2:

Gotta say hyung that was real awkward

Im really sorry, i didnt know u and hyuck used to date

‘Hyuck?’ Just how close were they? How did they even know each other? Did they come to the coffee shop… on a date? 

Mark recoils from the thought instantly. It horrifies him to think of Donghyuck dating someone else, smiling at someone else. Touching, laughing with, kissing, loving someone else. Another man’s lips brushing the scattered moles on Donghyuck’s cheek, unfamiliar hands tracing the curves of Donghyuck’s hips.... Mark wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to pull Donghyuck into his arms and hold him, keep him there–

But Mark doesn’t have the right to hold Donghyuck anymore. Hell, Mark has no right to feel this way at all. Donghyuck can go out with whoever he wants to. He deserves to find happiness, happiness that Mark has no claim on.

Mark was the one who let Donghyuck slip away, after all. 

***

“Mark hyung, wait!”

Mark turned at the sound of Donghyuck’s shout, usually honey smooth voice on the verge of panic. The younger boy panted slightly from chasing Mark down the street from Chenle's house, tan cheeks rosy from the cold, eyes wide and sparkling in the yellowish light of a street lamp, bright red hair ruffled– and as usual, everything about him was beautiful, unbearably so. Mark had to look away, a familiar tightness curling his insides.

“What is it, Hyuck?”

“You're upset about something.” Mark opened his mouth to make some excuse, but Donghyuck cut him off before he could make a sound. “Don’t even try, Mark. You’re my best friend, I can tell when you’re upset, and I wasn’t going to push you since you obviously don’t want to talk about it, but it’s been weeks. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Mark insisted stubbornly, staring at a point over Donghyuck’s shoulder. He knew he would crumble if he looked at Donghyuck’s face right now. 

“Why are you lying to me?” The raw hurt in Donghyuck’s voice made Mark flinch; there was no anger, only sadness. “Don’t you trust me?”

Mark swallowed hard. “It’s not like that, Hyuck. I trust you. You’re my best friend.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frustration was filtering into Donghyuck’s voice now, and Mark could feel the same emotion creeping through his veins as Donghyuck gripped his shoulders, trying to force Mark to look him in the eyes. Mark's breath caught in his throat. Donghyuck's face was so close to his, gaze heated and unstoppable as a blazing wildfire.

Something snapped within Mark, like a rubber band stretched too far for too long, and all the words Mark had forced down, down, away from the tip of his traitorous tongue, came spilling out.

“I like you, okay?” Mark blurted. He had meant to never say those words, but now that the dam was broken, Mark was powerless to stop the tidal wave. “I like you so much, it's driving me crazy, and every time I think I'm getting it under control, you do something like this–" gesturing to the distance between them, too close and yet nowhere near close enough, "and I lose my mind all over again. I think about you all the time and I want to hold your hand and kiss you and take you to that ridiculously overpriced cafe with the heart-patterned tablecloths but I couldn’t– I can’t lose my best friend, Hyuck, so if we could forget this whole conversation happened, that would be gre–” 

Mark’s torrent of words was blocked by another mouth pressing against his. Donghyuck collided with him with more force than necessary, teeth clacking together as Mark stumbled back a few steps before regaining his balance. Mark barely had time to register what was happening(oh God was this happening?)before Donghyuck was pulling back and punching Mark hard in the shoulder.

“Ow! What the-”

“Mark Lee, you insufferable dumbass, you are so stupid!” Donghyuck punctuated every word with a slap.

“What?” Mark yelped, trying to dodge Donghyuck’s flailing hands.

“I like you too, idiot. I have for the longest time,” Donghyuck huffed. “Now shut your big, stupid mouth and kiss me before I change my mind.”

And what was Mark gonna do, say no?

“Mark?” Donghyuck said solemnly later that night, when they were both curled up on Donghyuck’s twin sized bed. They had slept over at each other’s houses countless times, but this time, instead of trying to kick each other’s asses at Mario Kart, they were simply basking in each other’s presence, occasionally sharing lazy kisses.

“Yeah?” Mark murmured into Donghyuck’s hair, grumbling when the younger pulled away enough to turn and face him.

“Look at me.” Mark obeyed the gentle command, and Donghyuck’s eyes were so soft, so full of warm affection. “You know you could never lose me, right? I’ll always be by your side, as long as you want me there.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Mark seriously considers skipping Music History on Monday, but attendance counts for twenty percent of the final grade, and Yukhei threatens to put all of Mark’s underwear in the oven if he doesn’t get his ass out of bed, so Mark find himself slinking into the lecture hall, head down and hood up as usual. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Donghyuck still won’t notice that he’s in this class.

Apparently Mark is not lucky. 

He can feel the weight of a stare as soon as he slumps into his seat. Unable to resist chancing a peek, Mark’s gaze clashes with Donghyuck’s as soon as he turns his head to the back of the room, and he hurriedly looks away, a shiver coursing down his spine.

The instinctual need for escape prickles in the back of Mark’s mind the entire lecture, but Donghyuck is fast. He pounces as soon as the class ends, stalking like a predator, placing himself between Mark and the only exit. Mark feels like a cornered animal, doomed prey with nothing but fight-or-flight instinct left. Instead of attacking, however, Donghyuck merely slips out the door, followed by the rest of the class. Barely daring to hope, Mark swallows hard and picks up his bag, the last to leave the classroom.

He tries to dart out the door and take off down the hall, but a strong grip on his bicep hauls him back.

“Why do you keep running from me?” It’s Donghyuck’s voice that knocks the air out of Mark, rather than the sudden attack. That voice, so often full of honey sweetness. The voice that made the unfamiliar syllables of Korean sound warm and welcoming rather than terrifying back when Mark moved from Canada and was still struggling to grasp the intricacies of the language. The same voice that had been so cold when Donghyuck told Mark to get out of his life. 

“I–” Mark’s mind is blank. He doesn’t look and Donghyuck’s face.

There’s a familiar hint of teasing– timid and almost undetectable, but there– when Donghyuck continues, “It’s like you’re scared I’m going to run you through with a sword or something.”

I’d deserve it, Mark thinks, but he still can’t bring himself to speak, or look up from his battered sneakers.

Donghyuck sighs, and his voice returns to carefully neutral. “I just wanted to apologize for startling you the other day. I was pretty shocked myself.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Mark’s traitorous eyes flicker up to Donghyuck’s face, catching for the barest moment on his chocolate brown eyes and his front teeth digging into his full lower lip, before flickering away again.

“Yeah, I… didn’t realise you knew Yangyang,” mumbles Mark.

“We met over the summer. We’re roommates now.”

“Are you dating?” the words are out of Mark’s mouth before he can reel them back.

Donghyuck’s voice hardens. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no we aren’t”

Mark flinches. It isn’t his business. Donghyuck can date whoever he wants, Mark reminds himself(though he can’t help feeling the smallest bit of relief).

“Look,” Donghyuck continues, once again businesslike, “I’m assuming we’ll probably have more classes together, considering that your major is Music Production and mine is Vocal Performance.” Mark’s mind latches on to that scrap of information; when they’d last discussed career goals, Donghyuck had been considering Dance or Fashion Design. 

“Uh… yeah, probably,” Mark manages, relieved that his voice doesn’t crack.

“We most likely won’t be able to avoid each other completely–” Mark’s heart lurches with something that feels disastrously like hope– “so we should probably be civil with each other.”

Civil. The traitorous bubble of hope in Mark’s chest implodes, sending shock-waves through his ribs and lungs. Civil. Polite acquaintances. Strangers.

Donghyuck turns abruptly and stalks off without waiting for and answer– which is just as well; Mark doesn’t think he can speak while feeling as though his lungs have been filled with ice.

How can he be civil to the boy who still holds his worthless heart in his slender, tanned fingers?

***

“That’s the last one,” Mark’s mom announced, dumping the final cardboard box unceremoniously on the still-bare mattress next to Donghyuck, who was flopped on his back in exhaustion after insisting on carrying a heavy box of Mark’s books up the stairs by himself. Donghyuck, who had arrived at the dorm in the passenger seat of Mark’s car, but would be leaving in Mrs. Lee’s minivan, now empty of the boxes containing Mark’s things. “Do you need help putting everything away?”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Mark assured her, letting himself be pulled into a tight hug.

“I’m sure you will, but be sure to call me if you need anything, okay? It’s only a thirty minute drive,” his mom fussed, pulling back to smooth down his hair. He was taller than her now by several inches; she had to reach up on her tiptoes to plant one last kiss on his cheek.

“I will, mom. But really, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay sweetie,” his mom smiled tremulously, eyes misty. Mark felt a prickle in his own eyes, but he refused to cry; he needed to be strong, to show his mom that he could handle being on his own now.

“I’ll give you two a moment, then,” she said, ruffling Mark’s hair one last time. “Donghyuck, honey, I’ll be down in the van. Take all the time you need.”

As soon as the dorm door clicked shut behind his mother, Mark’s composure cracked. Donghyuck tugged him down to sit on the bare, unfamiliar bed, his arms providing all the comfort of home. 

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Donghyuck murmured, stroking Mark’s hair. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Mark whispered, breathing in Donghyuck’s soothing scent, trying to lock it away securely into his memory.

“There’s no need to miss me. It’s not a long drive, you can come see me any time you like. And if you ever need me, I’ll just be a phone call away. I’ll steal Jeno’s car and be right here.”

Mark smiled through his tears, sniffling slightly. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Donghyuck confirmed, pulling Mark in for a kiss that tasted like salty tears and sweet reassurances. 

***

“Mark, I cannot take this anymore,” Yukhei groans. Mark continues to stare at the ceiling.

In the three weeks since that one conversation, Donghyuck has been nothing but civil. Donghyuck hasn’t even spared Mark a glance at school save for a stiff nod of acknowledgement when they pass each other on campus. The occasional words exchanged between them are as stiff and polite as cheap greeting cards, and equally meaningless.

To make matters worse, Donghyuck seems to have taken a liking to Regular Cafe. On any given day, he can be found there, laughing with Yangyang or quietly studying in one of the cozy booths. It’s the most acute form of torture to see him, droopy-eyed and tousle-haired when it’s almost closing and he’s nearly to the end of an essay he’s spent the past two hours typing, and not be able to press a kiss to his forehead and tuck him in to bed, the way Donghyuck had done to Mark countless times during the weeks leading up to his college entrance exams.

Mark hadn’t been there when Donghyuck studied for his entrance exams. He wonders who brought him snacks and made sure he got enough rest.

Mark should have been the one to do that.

But in the end, maybe no one had.

“Earth to Mark Lee,” Guanheng calls, darting in behind Yukhei with Dejun and Kun in tow and leaning over to flick Mark on the forehead

“What?” Mark mumbles, trying to scowl but unable to work up the energy.

“This is an intervention,” Dejun declares. “You’re like a walking rain cloud.”

“It’s scaring away the customers,” Kun adds, stern words contrasting with his good-natured smile.

Mark finally bothers to sit up, making room for the other young men to perch themselves rather awkwardly on Mark’s narrow dorm bed. Dejun ends up on Guanheng’s lap, but neither of them looks particularly upset.

“So,” Kun starts with mock seriousness, “who do I need to ask Ten to ask Johnny to beat up?”

Mark doesn’t crack a smile. “I’m the only one in this situation who deserves to be beaten up,” he replies humorlessly.

“I think you’ve done a pretty good job doing that already,” Dejun comments, glancing at the dark shadows taking up residence under Mark’s eyes.

“Oh, he has,” Yukhei confirms, normally cheerful face overshadowed with worry.

Kun smiles kindly and reaches out to squeeze Mark’s hand. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

It all comes spilling out: the way Donghyuck was the best thing that ever happened to him, the way he’d let it all slip through his fingers.

“He should have been my first priority,” Mark laments, the regret that had settled into his bones flaring red-hot, "but I got so busy, and I was neglecting him. We got into a fight, and I- god, I said some awful things. But he was right, he deserves better than me. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him. So when he asked me to leave… I did.”

Silence fills the dorm when Mark finishes. He roughly wipes away the few tears that escaped from his eyes, annoyed with himself. He has no right to cry, not when everything that happened is his fault.

“Well,” Yukhei pipes up, “you know what I think?” Yukhei grins around at the questioning gazes. “I think you should go win him back.”

“What?” Mark splutters. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me. It’ll make everything even worse.”

“If he already doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Guanheng chimes in, “how could it possibly get any worse?”

“Exactly!” Yukhei nods. “You’re already miserable about him. How much worse would it be to try? You’re at rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up.”

“Your relentless optimism never ceases to astound me,” Dejun observes.

“No,” Mark insists. “Absolutely not. Even if he did ever want to get back together... I already told you, he deserves better than me.”

The three younger boys look exasperated, but Kun, who has been quiet since Mark began his story, speaks up.

“Maybe you didn’t deserve him back then, but are you sure nothing’s changed?”

Mark tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Kun’s mouth tilts into a fond smile. “Remember when Dejun caught the flu and you covered his shift, even though you’d already worked a full shift, and you missed a study group meeting?”

“I certainly remember,” Dejun says. “You even came over to check on me afterwards. You brought soup.”

Mark furrows his brows. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Yukhei perks up, seeming to catch whatever point Kun is trying to make. “Oh, remember last semester when you told me not to go to that party because I should be studying instead, but I went anyway, and you ended up not studying much either because I got super drunk and you had to come pick me up and put me to bed? Remember?”

“Vividly,” Mark winces. Yukhei was much taller than him and had been extremely difficult to drag home. “But what’s your point?”

Ignoring his question, Guanheng says, “Remember when my partner for that project dropped the class at the last minute and I had to do everything myself? You spent hours helping me even though you didn’t even take that class and you had an essay due the next day. I got an A on the project, but I doubt you scraped a C on that paper.”

It was a -C actually, but Mark's getting frustrated with this conversation. “So what? What does this have to do with Donghyuck?”

“Mark, you’ve prioritized us, your friends, above your work,” Dejun explains. “I have never had to wonder whether I’m important to you.”

“You’ve grown a lot in the past year,” Kun says. “It shows a lot about your character that, consciously or not, you fixed the problem that Donghyuck pointed out to you.”

“Maybe you didn’t deserve Donghyuck back then,” Yukhei says, “but now I can confidently say that you’re one of the most selfless and caring people I know. You could make anyone happy.”

“There’s no guarantee he’ll take you back,” says Guanheng seriously, “But you owe it to him, and yourself, to try.”

Kun pats Mark on the shoulder as he extricates himself from the bed, the others following suit. “It’s you choice, but you should think about it.” He smiles encouragingly. “You can become someone who deserves him.”

Kun, Dejun, and Guanheng troupe back out the door, leaving Mark and Yukhei alone in their dorm. Yukhei has the grace to pretend not to notice as Mark dries his fresh tears on his bedsheets.

***

 The sudden sound of Exo’s Love Me Right blaring from his phone’s speakers shattered the total silence of Mark’s dorm room, Yukhei having gone out for the evening with some friends from his work. They had invited Mark to join them, but he declined; he still had an essay to write. It took Mark a few seconds to recognize the unexpected sound as a ringtone, and a few more to realize that it was eight pm, the time he and Donghyuck had agreed to video chat.

I want to see your stupid face, babe, Donghyuck had texted. Since you're too busy to come home this weekend, do you think you could spare some time for that, at least? Mark had assured him that of course he could spare an hour for his boyfriend.

And yet…

Mark’s fingers twitched in the keyboard of his laptop. He needed to finish this essay. Donghyuck would understand.

In the time he hesitated, the ringtone stopped. A text came in, then another. The ringtone started up again.

After a few minutes, the notifications stopped.

It was okay, Mark thought as he pushed his glasses up his nose. He would make it up to Donghyuck.

(missed video chat from hyuckie)

hyuckie: Its been too long baby i want to see you(8:01PM)

hyuckie : Dont tell me you forgot(8:02PM)

(missed video chat from hyuckie)

(missed call from hyuckie)

hyuckie: I guess you ended up being busy after all(8:05PM)

hyuckie: goodnight mark(8:07PM)

***

Mark’s eyes sting, his head pounds, his limbs feel heavy, but for the first time in a year, there’s a spark burning inside him.

He didn’t sleep. Kun’s words echoed in his head all night.

You can become someone who deserves him.

 Mark still isn’t sure. He doesn’t know if he can even begin to repair the bridges burned between himself and Donghyuck, but Yukhei and the others are right; he owes it to Donghyuck, and to himself, to try.

He makes a stop at the cafe before his Music History lecture. He needs the caffeine, yes, but he also has an idea.

It’s one of Yangyang’s rare shifts this morning, stocking the pastry display cases with fresh cupcakes and tarts, and his first words when he catches sight of Mark are, “Damn, you look awful.”

“Thanks, Yangyang,” Mark replies tiredly before turning to a concerned Dejun behind the register.

“You… doing any better?” Dejun ventures hesitantly.

Mark smiles– tired and small, but not forced. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Dejun returns the smile, relieved. “Your regular order?” He asks, already scribbling Mark’s name on a to-go cup.

“Yeah. And an iced Americano as well.”

“Name on the Americano?” asks Dejun, tilting his head.

His grin when Mark answers is blinding

A few minutes later, Mark exits the cafe with one cup bearing his own name, the other the inscription, “Can we talk?” in Dejun’s best handwriting.

After weeks of arriving just on the cusp of being late to every Music History class for weeks, it’s odd to enter the mostly empty room ten minutes early. There are a few students already there, but Donghyuck isn’t among them, so Mark ignores them, making his way away from his usual seat to the back corner. He sets the Americano on the desk closest to the window and prays that no one chooses today to mess up the unspoken agreement of the unofficial seating arrangement.

Mark returns to his own desk. Minutes pass. His leg bounces nervously, rattling his chair until the girl next to him shoots him a dirty look and he forces himself to still.

After a few minutes that feel like an eternity, Donghyuck finally walks through the door. His hair, peeking out from under the hood of his black sweatshirt, is tousled and wavy, so soft-looking that Mark’s fingers tingle with longing. The last time Mark ran his fingers through that hair, it was bright red and a little rough from bleach damage. He wonders if it would feel the same now.

Mark’s eyes track Donghyuck’s lithe frame to the back of the classroom. He can see the exact moment Donghyuck spots the coffee; he stiffens little, glances around for the cup’s owner, before gingerly picking it up to inspect the writing on the side. Mark waits with bated breath as Donghyuck stares at the message for one heartbeat, two, three– then looks up, right at Mark. Pinned under the stare, Mark merely looks back, some part of his brain noticing how angelic Donghyuck looks with the morning sun from the window lighting him from behind. After a long moment, Donghyuck gives a small nod and takes his seat, hand still curled around the cup.

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Mark slumps in relief.

If anything mentioned in this lecture is going to be on a test later, Mark is royally screwed. His brain is too occupied with everything he wants to say to Donghyuck to retain even one word about 17th century Italian opera. His notes consist of doodles and the letters LDH, reminiscent of his notes in high school. It’s inevitable, Mark thinks. In life, on paper, in his mind, in his heart, over and over again. Everything leads back to Lee Donghyuck.

***

“Let’s go, then,” Donghyuck says, standing in front of Mark’s desk with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. “Let’s talk.”

Mark nods dumbly and follows the other boy from the classroom, feeling like his heart is trying to escape through his mouth and run the other direction. Donghyuck sets off at a brisk pace down the hallway and Mark hurries to keep up.

“Do– um– do you want to go, I don’t know, grab a coffee or something?” babbles Mark, cursing himself for sounding so stupid.

“You already did that,” replies Donghyuck with a slight smirk, tilting the now-empty cup.

“Oh. Yeah,” Mark casts around desperately for something else as they reach the courtyard. “Or, we could go grab lunch? There’s this noodle place–” He cuts off, realizing Donghyuck is no longer beside him.

The younger boy is a few paces back, arms once again crossed, everything about his stance defensive. Mark doubles back, hands shaking as Donghyuck fixes him with a cool glare.

“I’m not going to go get lunch with you, Mark. You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

Taking a deep breath, Mark clasps his hands together to stop the trembling. “Right. Okay.

“First off, I just want to say that I am so sorry. I know that isn’t enough. I know an apology isn’t going to fix anything, but I need you to know that not a single day has passed that I haven’t regretted everything I said that night. And not only that one night. I’m sorry for every missed call, every late text, every broken promise. I didn’t make you a priority and you were right; you deserve better, you deserve someone who you can rely on for anything, someone who will make you their top priority, someone who will make you their everything.”

Donghyuck’s face is still carefully calm, and Mark swallows. This is the hard part, the part he’d been thinking about since his talk with Kun and the others. 

“I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I am begging you to let me prove to you… I can be that man. I know I screwed up, I screwed up so bad, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to you, if you’ll let me. The thing is, you are my everything. You always have been.”

The carefully neutral mask over Donghyuck’s face is wearing thin, his breathing slightly ragged and eyes wide.

“Donghyuck, I love you. I never stopped loving you. I won’t say it again until I’ve proved it, but I need you to know.” Drawing in a sharp breath, Mark realizes there are tears on his cheeks. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is Donghyuck.

“If you tell me to leave, I’ll go,” Mark promises. “But, please… just one more chance, Donghyuck. Please.”

“You broke my heart.” The words are mere whispers, but they sting more than if Donghyuck had shouted.

“I know,” Mark hangs his head. “And you have every right to hate me for it.”

A weighted pause hangs in the air between them as Mark waits for his sentence to fall. He waits for Donghyuck to condemn him.

Instead Donghyuck says, “Fine. Prove it.” Without another word, Donghyuck brushes past Mark and hurries across the courtyard.

Marks stands perfectly still, hardly daring to believe it. A slow smile spreads across his face.

Prove it.

It’s not forgiveness. It’s not redemption.

But it’s a hope.

“Promise,” Mark whispers to cloudy sky.

***

Over the next few days it becomes routine to stop by the cafe before Music History. Every day, the Americano says something different.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows at “my sun.”

He bites his lip at “my everything.”

He fights back a smile at “my partner in crime.”

“You can’t win me over with coffee and cheesy lines, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck notes on the fourth day.

“I brought you a pastry today, too,” Mark says innocently, placing a strawberry tart and an Americano with the words “my other half” on the desk in front of Donghyuck.

Although they only have Music History three days a week, Mark makes it his mission to deliver coffee to Donghyuck every morning. After mild bribery, Yangyang tells him that Donghyuck has private vocal lessons with Professor Moon on Tuesdays and Wednesdays at nine.

The next day, Dr. Moon opens his office door at 8:50 AM to a student he wasn’t expecting.

“Oh, hello Mark! Do you need help with a project again? I’m afraid I have a student coming in about ten minutes, but I have some time later–”

Mark shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, sir. I was just wondering if you could give this to your student? Lee Donghyuck?”

It’s an odd request, Mark knows, and he probably would be turned away by any other professor, but Dr. Moon had been Mark’s personal mentor for a piece he submitted to a festival in his freshman year, so the older man merely smiles bemusedly and takes the cup from Mark’s hand. His eyes catch on the words “my muse” inscribed on the side of the cup and he raises an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn’t comment.

***

It was nearly a week before their friends found out that Mark and Donghyuck were officially dating. Mark didn’t think they were being particularly subtle, but, as Donghyuck reminded him, they had been practically attached at the hip for years already.

Like most Friday afternoons, Mark, Jeno, Jaemin, and Jisung were already sprawled across the couches in Chenle’s ridiculously lush living room, despite Chenle still being at the school for choir practice along with Donghyuck and Renjun. At this point in the school year, with choir competition and the school musical coming up, Mark figured that the other boys spent more time at the Zhong mansion than Chenle did.

Mark was watching in mild interest as Jisung destroyed Jaemin in some video game for the third time in a row when Chenle’s signature high-pitched laugh announced the arrival of the three missing boys. 

Donghyuck immediately plopped himself half in Mark’s lap, tiredly grumbling some complaint about the choir director. A week ago, Mark would have panicked and shoved Donghyuck off him; now he wound an arm around Donghyuck’s waist and tugged him against his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” said Mark, a fond smile curling his lips. “You guys are gonna kill it at the competition.”

Donghyuck nodded slightly and curled closer, snuggling into the warmth of Mark's arms.

“Um.”

Mark looked up in surprise; he had completely forgotten about the other people in the room, five boys whose faces displayed different levels of shock. Mark could feel Donghyuck, who was still tucked against his chest, start to tremble with silent laughter.

“Jaemin,” Renjun said, “is my hearing failing me, or did Mark just call Donghyuck ‘babe’?”

“That’s what I heard,” Jaemin replied, a grin starting to crawl across his lips. 

“What,” Jisung said flatly, face slack with growing horror. “Oh god, no! They’re going to be so gross!”

“Damn right we are,” Donghyuck finally spoke, pulling away just far enough to plant a loud kiss on Mark’s cheek. He barely had time to shoot a smug grin at Jisung, who looked ready to fling himself off the nearest bridge, before Mark was gripping the front of his shirt and tugging him back, guiding Donghyuck’s lips to meet his.

The immediate uproar faded into the background, even Chenle’s ear-piercing shriek, as Donghyuck kissed back, tangling his hands in Mark’s hair.

(The others made Mark and Donghyuck pay for the pizza that night, as compensation for “destroying the sanctity of Chenle’s living room” and “scarring Jisung’s innocent mind.”)

***

Mark’s thumb hovers over the send button for an embarrassingly long time. He hasn’t spoken to Na Jaemin, or any of his friends from high school, for that matter, in months. Mark could blame the breakup– though he can’t fault anyone for siding with Donghyuck– but the truth is that the timestamp of Mark’s last text to Jaemin was several weeks previous. Just like with Donghyuck, Mark had been too caught up in himself to realize that he was drifting away from the people he loved most; and just like with Donghyuck, Mark is determined to fix it.

***

Mark almost doesn’t recognize the newcomer to Regular Cafe as Jaemin. He’s grown a few centimeters and dyed his hair pink, but the grin that lights up his face when he spots Mark is unmistakable.

It’s awkward; of course it is. They’d been so close, and now it’s as though they’re strangers again. When they’ve ordered and the silence between them grows thick, Mark finally manages, “So, what school are you going to?”

It turns out that Jaemin, as well as Jeno, is attending SMU, a school a little further north but not far, while Renjun is studying in China, at least for a semester, which explains why Mark hasn’t seen any of them with Donghyuck on campus.

Donghyuck must have been so lonely, starting school here with his friends out of reach. Mark feels the familiar pang of regret; here was yet another way he’d failed Donghyuck. He should have been there to help him move into the dorm room, tell him which professors were the nicest, to soothe his homesickness when the nights got lonely in an unfamiliar place.

“Jisung and Chenle are still causing as much trouble as ever, so I hear,” Jaemin is saying. “Our little Sungie has gotten so tall, you wouldn’t believe.”

Mark smiles ruefully. “I miss those little menaces.”

Reaching out to gently take hold of Mark’s hand, Jaemin says, “We’ve all missed you, too, Mark.”

“I’m so sorry,” mumbles Mark, gripping Jaemin’s hand like a lifeline. “I was too caught up in work, and then after what happened… I couldn’t face any of you.”

“I won’t lie,” Jaemin says after a moment’s pause, “all of us were pretty pissed off when Hyuck told us what happened. Jeno and I barely stopped Renjun from coming straight here and kicking your ass.”

Mark chuckles weakly. “I would have deserved it.”

“Maybe,” Jaemin concedes. “But I still wish you hadn’t shut us all out like that. We may be Hyuck’s best friends, but we’re your best friends too. I just wish you would have talked to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark says again. Jaemin doesn’t tell him it’s okay, which he’s grateful for because it isn’t okay. But maybe this is the first step to making it okay.

“I still love him,” Mark says after a minute or two of companionable silence.

“Of course you do,” Jaemin smiles. “You’re Mark Lee. Being hopelessly in love with Lee Donghyuck is one of your main personality traits.”

That makes Mark laugh– a true, full body laugh, something that hasn’t happened in weeks. It feels like a weight lifts from his shoulders as they shake from mirth. 

“I guess you’re right,” manages Mark finally, through his subsiding giggles. “I’m going to get him back, Jaemin,” he continues, more serious now. Determined.

“Good,” Jaemin replies with an approving nod. He seems about to say something further, but they’re both startled by another voice.

“Excuse me.”

Mark looks up to tell Guanheng to go away, but the other boy isn’t looking at him, instead staring shrewdly at Jaemin.

“Hello Mark’s very hot friend, would you happen to be single and attracted to boys?” Guanheng says in a businesslike voice, as though conducting a job interview. Mark gapes, aghast, but Jaemin takes it all in stride.

“Sorry,” he grins, “I already have two boyfriends, actually.”

“Yukhei, he’s taken!” Guanheng shouts over his shoulder.

“Damn!” Yukhei calls back. “The cute ones are always taken!”

“I’m single!” Guanheng protests.

“That’s because you aren’t cute, donkey face," Dejun chimes in.

“You take that back,” Guanheng gasps, stalking back behind the counter with a sugar spoon clenched menacingly in one hand.

“So,” Mark turnes away from his squabbling coworkers to a very amused Jaemin, “two boyfriends?”

“You’ve missed a lot,” Jaemin shrugs. “Tell you what, Renjun’s flying in for a visit in a couple weeks, so we were planning to meet up at Chenle’s place. The whole gang will be there, why don’t you join us? It’ll be just like old times.”

“That–” Mark feels a bit like he’s being strangled from the inside out. “That sounds really great.”

***

As the weather gets colder, Mark considers switching Donghyuck’s daily iced Americano for something warmer, but by now the entire crew at Regular Cafe knows to have the drink ready for Mark to pick up every morning, and he’d rather not mess up their routine.

Donghyuck is still only speaking to him in a few short, cold sentences, but none of those sentences are “please leave me alone, you creep,” so Mark counts that as a victory. He never expected this to be easy, anyway.

Kicking his feet through the fallen leaves, Mark tugs his jacket closer around himself to protect against the brisk chill of an autumn evening as he trudges across campus. Mark usually prefers to study in the comfort of his own dorm, but whenever Yukhei brings Guanheng and Yangyang around, it becomes almost impossible to concentrate, so he packs up his things and moves to the campus library for a few hours.

To his dismay, the library is closed. The sign taped to the window informs him that “some asshole freshman set off a stink bomb and now we need to have the carpets cleaned.”

Mark briefly entertains the idea of giving up on studying and returning to his dorm to join in on the Mario Kart tournament that was making so much noise when he left, but he has a test tomorrow and he really needs to study.

On a whim, Mark turns his feet toward Regular Cafe; when he’d left his own shift an hour or so ago, Kun and Dejun were the only others working. With Yukhei, Guanheng, and Yangyang at the dorm, the cafe should be relatively quiet this late in the evening. 

As he expected, there aren’t many customers. Dejun is scrolling on his phone while Kun leans on the counter, chatting with his(kind of scary, in Mark’s opinion) boyfriend, Ten.

“Hey, Mark,” Kun greets cheerfully. “Did you forget something?”

“No. My dorm is full of squabbling children, the library’s closed, and I have a test to study for.”

“Ah, I see,” Kun smiles. “Looks like you’re not the only one.” He gestures to a table in the back. Mark spots see a head of tousled auburn hair hunched over a textbook and his heart stops for a second before starting back up double time.

“Are you going to pass out?” Ten asks in mild interest, scowling when Kun smacks him on the shoulder. “What? All the blood just drained out of his face!”

Ignoring Ten, Mark takes a stabilizing breath and walks cautiously towards Donghyuck.

“Hey.”

Donghyuck startles and looks up, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Oh! Um, hey.”

Mark gestures to the chair opposite Donghyuck. “Can I– I mean, would it be okay if I sat here?”

Donghyuck’s eyes flicker to the seat in question, then dart around the mostly-vacant cafe, and finally return to Mark’s face. “I think I would prefer if you didn’t.”

The polite response is like a punch to the stomach, but Mark merely nods. “Okay,” he says simply, and moves to an empty table in the opposite corner. He takes out his textbook and laptop, hesitates, and then waves Dejun over.

“Can you take him some hot chocolate?” Mark requests in a low voice, holding out his debit card. Faltering under Dejun’s incredulous stare, Mark hurriedly explains, “He’s sitting by the window, and it’s really cold outside, and I don’t want him to be cold–”

“Relax, Mark,” Dejun smirks, “I’ll take him the hot chocolate.”

Mark keeps his eyes resolutely glued to his notes when Dejun returns from the counter. He can feel Donghyuck’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t look up.

***

Mark studies at the cafe nearly every day after his shift. Often, Donghyuck is there too. Every day, Mark asks, only once, for permission to sit at Donghyuck’s table.

On the fourth day, Donghyuck says yes.

***

“Hey, Mark?” 

Mark startles so violently that his glasses nearly fall off. He blinks across the table at Donghyuck, too shocked to speak, wondering if he'd imagined the other boy's voice. Donghyuck has allowed Mark to share his space for three days in a row, but he's never tried to make conversation

Donghyuck snickers at him. It’s not a full laugh– not the bright, loud, warm sound Mark has been craving– but it still makes Mark’s heart lurch.

“Jaemin says you’re going to Chenle’s this Saturday?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Mark had received a text full of exclamation points from the young Chinese boy, assuring him that he’s more than welcome.

“Why?”

Mark tilts his head, confused. “Jaemin invited me.”

“I know that,” Donghyuck huffs, “but I don’t get why you’re going. You haven’t spoken to any of them in months. For that matter, when did you even start talking to Jaemin again?”

Mark blinks at him for a few moments, trying to formulate his thoughts. “Donghyuck,” he starts slowly, “I told you that I was going to try and fix things. It wasn’t just you that I hurt– though I was definitely the worst to you– but I also shut out the others. I pushed away my best friends. I reached out to Jaemin because I want to make it right.” He holds Donghyuck’s gaze, willing the other boy to believe him.

“This… isn’t just about me, is it?” Donghyuck asks.

Mark shakes his head. “No,” he says, the words tasting like truth on his tongue, “this is about me.”

Donghyuck studies Mark, trying to find deceit in his eyes. After a few more moments, he nods. “Okay. Good.”

The conversation seems to be over, so Mark turns his attention back to his notebook, but Donghyuck speaks again.

“I think my Music Theory teacher wants me dead,” he grumbles, scowling at his essay.

“Who do you have?” asks Mark.

“Professor Park.”

“Oh my god, I had him last year! He definitely wants all his students dead.”

It’s almost scary how easy it is to complain about classes and teachers, swap embellished stories and call each other out for exaggerating. By the time Kun kicks them out to start closing up, neither of them have finished their homework, but Mark doesn’t care.

There’s a gap in the thick clouds in the cold autumn sky. Mark can see a small patch of stars, gleaming faintly far, far away.

***

Mark never really got the hype surrounding prom. What was so appealing about dressing in an uncomfortable suit, posing for awkward photos, and spending the night in a sweaty gym? However, as Donghyuck descended his stairs dressed in a sharp black suit and a floral tie that perfectly matched Mark's own, Mark began to reconsider his opinion. Donghyuck looked beyond handsome– he was positively radiant; everything about him seemed to shine. His caramel skin glowed even more than usual, his eyelids and lips glimmered subtly(it wasn't often that Donghyuck wore makeup, and it always made Mark feel as though he’d had the air knocked out of him), but the brightest thing about him was his smile, which made Mark feel as though he was being bathed in sunshine.

"Mark, do you think you could pick your jaw up off the floor long enough to take some photos?" Donghyuck's mom teased, holding up her camera. Mark hastily closed his mouth and shot her a sheepish smile before turning back to his boyfriend.

"You look... wow."

"Mark Lee, always so eloquent," Donghyuck smirked, nodding at the plastic box clutched in Mark's hands. "So, are you going to put that boutonniere on me, or are you just going to stare at me all night?"

"Hmm," Mark tilted his head, considering. "That second option sounds pretty good to me..."

"Shut up and give me the stupid flower, Mark," Donghyuck huffed, but he was smiling.

"That’s ‘Mark hyung’ to you, brat," Mark said. "But just so you know, I still plan on staring at you all night." That earned Mark a gentle swat on the shoulder from Donghyuck, and a soft coo from Donghyuck's mother.

Mark nearly stabbed himself pinning the rose to Donghyuck's lapel, and then Donghyuck nearly stabbed Mark's chest in his struggle to do the same, but they finally managed to attach the flowers without drawing blood, Mrs. Lee's camera clicking all the while.

Donghyuck's mother ushered them outside for the mandatory awkward photos, but it was more fun than Mark expected. Even the most boring things tended to seem magical when Donghyuck was around. Donghyuck insisted on looking through all the photos before they could leave, pointing out the ones that Mark looked stupid in.

"How do you look so perfect in every single one, though?" Mark marveled, peeking over Donghyuck's shoulder.

"Oh shut up, you insufferable flirt," Donghyuck scolded, but his ears were a delicate pink and he was fighting a flattered smile. "When did you get so confident?"

Mark only grinned. "Let's go, we're going to be late," he said, opening the passenger door of his car and ushering Donghyuck inside.

They met up for dinner with their other friends at a little Italian place a few blocks from the school. Although Mark and Donghyuck were the only official couple in their friend group, they had all ended up asking each other to prom. Jeno and Jaemin almost got in a fistfight when they both asked Renjun on the same day, but Renjun had reasoned that they could always buy three matching ties instead of two. Chenle and Jisung were only going because Donghyuck said they were too young for prom, and they wanted to prove him wrong.

Dinner was the exact kind of disaster that could be expected from seven highschoolers trying to have a somewhat fancy meal, and by the time they left the table, Mark knew more than he ever wanted to about who could fit the most meatballs in their mouth at once(it was Chenle, who got up to twelve before he started choking).

They arrived at the dance fashionably late, the large room already packed with sweaty bodies, the warm air immediately making Mark curse his suit and envy the girls in skimpy satin dresses.

"Do you think anyone's spiked the punch bowl yet?" Jisung asked eagerly.

Jaemin frowned, his mother hen mode activated. "Park Jisung, don't you dare go anywhere near that punch."

Jisung looked ready to argue, but Chenle rolled his eyes and dragged Jisung off to the dance floor.

As with the photos, Mark ended up having more fun than expected, and, as with everything in his life, it was all thanks to Donghyuck. Donghyuck, poking fun at the other student's outfits; Donghyuck, dragging Mark onto the crowded dance floor despite Mark's protests; Donghyuck, somehow still glowing in the low light; Donghyuck, settling his hands on Mark's shoulders and pulling him closer when a slow song began to play.

"You're so sweaty," Donghyuck giggled.

Mark pinched his waist in retaliation before settling his hands over Donghyuck's hips. "Shut up, brat, so are you." Maybe Mark was a little bit biased, but somehow, Donghyuck still managed to look incredible, even as his carefully styled hair was falling into damp disarray.

They weren't really dancing, just swaying to the music, and despite Donghyuck's earlier complaints about Mark's sweat, he let himself be tugged closer, winding his own arms around Mark's neck.

"It's so weird to think that you won't be here next year," Donghyuck murmured, tucking himself under Mark's chin to rest against his shoulder.

Mark had been trying to avoid thinking about it. "I won't be far away," Mark reminded him. "I'll come visit all the time."

"Yeah, but it won't be the same. School won't be the same without you." Mark could hear the pout in Donghyuck's voice.

"It'll be okay, baby," Mark said, pulling away slightly to kiss the pout away from his boyfriend's lips. "It's just one year, and then you can come join me at university. I'll even come back for your senior prom, okay?"

Donghyuck smiled, eyes sparkling with love and hope for their future. "Promise?"

"Promise," Mark confirmed, cupping Donghyuck's cheek and leaning in for another kiss.

***

Mark shifts awkwardly on Chenle’s doorstep, hand halfway between the doorbell and the knob. He’s never rung the bell before; their group had always come and gone as they pleased, but Mark doesn’t know if he has the right anymore.

“Are you glitching?” The sudden voice at Mark’s side makes him jump. Jaemin reaches past him and grabs the handle, swinging the door open and shoving Mark inside. “Come on, the others are already here.” He grabs Mark’s arm and starts to drag him down the hallway, but Mark digs in his heels and tries to edge back toward the door. 

"Maybe I shouldn't have come,” he mumbles, anxiety roiling in his stomach

"What are you talking about?" asks Jaemin, exasperated.

"I don't have any right to be here."

"We literally invited you though."

Mark opens his mouth to argue again, but a door at the end of the hall flies open with a bang, warm light spilling out into the hallway along with a boy, his bleach-blonde hair mussed as he hurtles toward Mark, who automatically braces himself for impact.

“Mark hyung!” shrieks Chenle as he locks his arms around Mark and squeezes the air out of him.

More footsteps pound down the hallway. More arms and bodies press forward in a tangle, each scrabbling to grab hold of some part of Mark.

“You asshole!” someone–Renjun– shouts as he tugs his arm around Mark’s neck in a (mostly) playful chokehold. “How dare you show up here after abandoning us!”

“Bold words from someone who moved to China,” shoots back Jeno, ruffling Mark’s hair.

“Hyung, I'm taller than everyone now!” announces Jisung, shoving Chenle out of the way. 

“No one cares,” mutters Chenle grumpily, but he allows himself to be knocked sideways as Jisung nearly strangles Mark in a hug. Jaemin is right; Jisung has shot up in the past year, all long, bony limbs.

Donghyuck stands a little apart, face in shadow. Mark can’t see his expression. He doesn’t speak, nor does he step forward to join the welcome, but he doesn’t turn away either.

“I missed you so much, hyung,” mumbles Jisung. Despite being taller than Mark now, he makes himself small enough to fit into his hyung’s arms, resting his cheek on Mark’s shoulder the way he’d always done.

“Mark hyung,” Renjun says, voice softer, “are you crying?”

Mark squeezes Jisung tighter. “I’m so sorry,” he sniffles. “I’ve missed you all so much. I’m sorry for disappearing.”

A hand pats his back, another cards through his hair comfortingly. Jisung hugs him with all the force his wiry limbs can muster, a few hot tears soaking into the shoulder of Mark’s shirt.

“You came back, hyung,” Chenle says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world, as though it makes up for everything. “You’re here now.”

 Mark doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he feels loved.

Once Mark and Jisung have stopped crying(Mark could have sworn he saw Renjun wiping his eyes as well, but he values his life too much to point it out), they end up back in the comfort of Chenle’s living room, which looks exactly as Mark remembers. By force of habit, everyone naturally gravitates to the space they normally occupied, although Donghyuck sits nearly a two feet away from Mark on their usual sofa, where he used to press himself to Mark’s side.

The mood picks up as the younger boys eagerly talk over each other as they try to catch Mark up on everything he’s missed. Even Donghyuck cuts in with witty commentary about the messy way in which Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun finally figured themselves out and started dating. Mark wishes he’d been there, to see it all unfold, but it’s hard to feel sad when everyone is laughing. Donghyuck is smiling his full, unrestrained smile, eyes squinted with the force of it.

The cheerfulness falters once, when Mark slips up. He’s so caught up in Chenle’s anecdote about something funny that happened at choir practice, and everything feels so natural, like they’re back to normal. But they aren’t back to normal, because when Mark, out of habit, throws an arm over Donghyuck’s shoulder, the younger boy flinches away so violently that it draws the attention of everyone else in the room. Even Chenle falls silent, apprehensive expression seeming foreign on his usually cheerful face.

“Sorry,” Mark mutters, pulling his arm away as though burned and scooting further away on the couch. “I shouldn’t have– I, um. Sorry.”

Donghyuck bites his lip, eyes downturned. “It’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it.”

After a few more seconds of silence, Chenle clears his throat. “So, anyway,” he launches back into his story. Thank god for Zhong Chenle.

The comfortable atmosphere returns, but both Mark and Donghyuck are a little quieter for the rest of the night.

Chenle’s mom kicks them out well past midnight, admonishing them all to drive carefully and get home safe. Jeno, Jaemin, as well as Renjun, who’s staying at their apartment until his flight back to China on Monday morning, all pile into Jeno’s truck. Renjun threatens to flay Mark to within an inch of his life if he doesn’t keep in touch.

Jisung, who’s mother gave him permission to sleep over, and Chenle both hug Mark tightly before retreating to Chenle’s bedroom, leaving Mark and Donghyuck alone by the door.

“Um,” Mark shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “sorry again, about earlier. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck replies.

Silence falls between them again.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” Donghyuck says. His hand reaches out tentatively, closing around Mark’s wrist for the barest second before retreating. “It’s nice to have you around again.” He hesitates. “It’s good to be friends again.” He flashes Mark a half smile and slips out the door.

Mark rubs his wrist, the skin seeming to burn where Donghyuck’s fingers had touched him. A smile creeps onto his face.

Friends. He can work with that.

Chenle’s muffled laugh echoes from the second floor. Friends, all of them. He won’t let that slip through his fingers again. 

“Promise,” he whispers to Chenle’s empty entryway.

***

"You're being childish, Hyuck."

Donghyuck laughed– not his normal bright, warm laugh that made Mark feel suffused in sunlight. This laugh was cold and sharp as a shard of ice, cutting through to Mark's core. "Oh, I'm being childish? I'm not the one trying to avoid having this conversation by throwing insults."

"I'm not avoiding the conversation," Mark insisted petulantly, "I just don't think there's anything to talk about."

"That seems to be a common theme lately, doesn't it?" Donghyuck shot back. "You never talk to me. This is the first conversation we’ve had in weeks. I understand that you're busy, but is it so hard to text back more than once a day? Am I childish for wanting to see my boyfriend more than once a month? Your school is literally thirty minutes away!" Donghyuck's voice rose in volume and pitch breaking on the last word. "It's like I’m watching you drift away, and I’m the only one trying to make sure that doesn’t happen. It’s like you don't even want to be with me anymore."

"Yeah? Well maybe I don't!"

Mark's words hovered in the air between them, shocking them both into silence. Donghyuck's eyes were wide, like a frightened animal one breath away from bolting.  In all the time they’d known each other, Donghyuck had never looked at Mark like that; destroyed and devastated, as though about to shatter, but furious as well, ready to draw blood with the jagged edges of his own broken pieces. Mark wanted to reach out, to take Donghyuck in his arms. He wanted to apologize, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out.

In the end, it was Donghyuck who broke the silence, voice quiet and shaking slightly, but firm. Hard, sharp, cutting. "What are you still doing here, then? Get out."

"Wait, Hyuck–"

"No, Mark." Donghyuck's face was completely closed off, stony and unyielding. It was the face he used with other people, people he didn’t want to show weakness in front of. Not Mark, never Mark. "You've made it clear that you don't want to be here, so leave. I'm not going to force you to be with me, and I–" his voice faltered, and he swallowed hard to regain his composure, his features a mask of cold calm, like a sculpture of ice. "I deserve better than this."

He was right. Donghyuck deserved the whole world at his feet. He deserved someone who would shower him in love, who would never leave his side, who wouldn't get so caught up in work that he'd forget to text, to call, to visit. He deserved so much better than Mark.

So Mark left.

He returned to his dorm room with his textbooks and his homework and his roommate, Yukhei, who took on look at Mark's distraught expression and immediately pulled him into a tight hug. Mark knew he didn't deserve comfort, but he buried his face in Yukhei's chest, letting himself be held. He didn't deserve to cry, but he couldn't help the sobs that wracked his frame, the tears continuing late into the night.

***

As winter creeps into the air, Donghyuck’s visits to the cafe become more and more sporadic. Mark spends most evenings alone at their usual table. When he does appear, Donghyuck seems stressed and tired. At first, Mark assumes it’s merely the effects of upcoming exams, but Jaemin tells him otherwise.

“Donghyuckie has a big recital coming up," Jaemin explains, flopping onto the sofa in Mark and Yukhei’s dorm. The younger boy took quite a liking to Mark’s coworkers after the first time he met them, so he invited himself to one of their weekly Mario Kart tournaments. “They say a bunch of talent scouts will be there. Since Hyuckie’s just a freshman, he probably won’t be offered an audition this year, but it’s a great opportunity to get his name out there.”

“That’s amazing! He’s such a good singer, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was scouted, even if he is a freshman,” Mark gushes, stopping when he sees Jaemin’s amused expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jaemin says, shaking his head.

“It’s been so long since I heard him sing,” muses Mark. “He hums sometimes when we’re studying, but it’s not the same.”

“The recital’s open to the public,” Jaemin says casually.

A brief pause, then–

“Where and when?”

***

“You look like you really need this today,” Mark teases, setting the coffee cup on Donghyuck’s desk. He’s long since ran out of actually romantic things to put on the cups, so he’s resorted to dumb pick up lines. Today, the cup reads Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine?

Donghyuck frowns at the words. “Why a vending machine?”

“‘Cause you’re a snack,” Mark grins proudly.

Donghyuck snorts. He’s been more free with his smiles and laughter since the evening at Chenle’s house, and Mark’s heart never fails to flutter. “Who came up with that one?”

“Guanheng,” Mark admits. “Will you be at the cafe tonight?”

“Probably not,” Donghyuck shrugs. “I’m pretty busy.”

Mark hums in sympathy. “Should I start bringing you more coffee?” he jokes.

“God, please no,” laughs Donghyuck. “If my caffeine addiction gets any worse, I’ll never sleep again. But thanks for the offer.”

“No problem. Let me know if you change your mind, sleep’s overrated anyway.” 

The professor enters the classroom and Mark heads back to his own desk with a smile on his face. It’s good to have his best friend back.

***

He might be allergic to roses, Mark thinks as he stifles another sneeze. He hopes he won’t disturb the recital by going into anaphylactic shock.

“Want me to hold those for you?” Jaemin smirks as Mark shifts the bouquet to his other hand to dig around in his pockets for a tissue.

“Yes, please,” Mark agrees, passing the roses over Jeno to Jaemin on the other side. With the roses now two seats away, Mark sighs in relief.

His mind starts to wander for the first few acts. They’re all very good, but it’s people he doesn’t know singing songs he’s never heard, and there’s really only one voice Mark cares to hear at the moment.

When Donghyuck appears onstage, Mark’s heart nearly leaps from his chest. He’s wearing a sharp black suit, his hair neatly styled away from his face. The stage lights glint off his skin like burnished bronze and gold, twinkling in his dark eyes.

Either Mark has forgotten just how beautiful Donghyuck’s voice is, or the younger boy has become even better than the last time Mark heard him sing. His voice is honey and sunshine and lemonade on a hot day. It’s the shimmer of heat rising from the pavement as the sun beats down, and the relief that comes from a cool summer thunderstorm. It’s longing and comfort and aching wistfulness. And above all, to Mark, Donghyuck’s voice is love.

Jaemin hands the bouquet back to Mark as the lights come back on at the end of the recital. Mark holds the flowers as far from his face as he can and tries to breathe shallowly.

They find Donghyuck in the foyer, hair slightly mussed, talking to a short girl Mark recognizes from the performance. He spots Jaemin first and waves them over.

“See you later, Jiwoo, your performance was fantastic!”

“Thanks Donghyuck,” the girl beams before being offered a business card by a man in a grey suit. Her eyes go wide and Donghyuck grins.

“I’m so happy for her,” he says turning to the boys. “She’s really…” His voice trails off as his eyes land on Mark. “What are you doing here? Don’t you meet with your advisor on Wednesday nights?”

“I canceled,” Mark says casually, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d ever bailed on one of these meetings. “This is more important.”

Donghyuck says nothing, merely gapes at him. Jaemin elbows Mark in the ribs and nods to the bundle still clutched in Mark’s hands.

“Oh, yeah!” He hold out the bouquet– twelve bright red roses, reminiscent of the color Donghyuck had dyed his hair in high school. “These are for you.”

There’s a long moment in which Mark begins to panic about a full bouquet being too much, before Donghyuck reaches out and takes the roses, lifting them to his face to inhale the sweet fragrance.

“Mark,” he says softly into the flowers, “do you know what red roses mean?”

Mark shifts awkwardly. “Of course I do.”

“You can say it. I think you’ve earned the right.”

“I love you.” The words he’d held in for so long rush out. “Donghyuck, I love you, I love you so much.”

Donghyuck raises his eyes from the roses to Mark’s face.

“Promise?”

Mark has never meant anything more as he replies, “Promise.”

That’s all Donghyuck needs to shove the bouquet into Jaemin’s chest and tug Mark towards him, kissing with a desperation that Mark eagerly returns, looping his arms around Donghyuck’s waist to pull him closer.

Jaemin and Jeno have tactfully wandered off by the time Mark pulls away to ask, “So does this mean you forgive me?”

Donghyuck hums thoughtfully, but his eyes twinkle. “I suppose, but it’s been a year, Mark Lee. That’s a lot of kisses you’ll have to make up for.”

Mark grins. “I think I can work with that.”

Five Years Later

Donghyuck’s favorite color to wear is black, but Mark thinks he looks even better in white. It contrasts beautifully against his tan skin, like caramel and cream. The pure white suit, combined with the subtle makeup and the aura of pure happiness that emanates from him like a faint glow, makes him seem even more like an angel than usual. 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark begins, glancing down at his notecards and back up to Donghyuck’s beautiful face. “To me, it’s always been you. Not loving you was never an option. To talk about love is to talk about you. You were my first love, and I have the opportunity for my first love to continue.” There are tears sparkling in Donghyuck’s eyes, and Mark’s own vision in starting to blur as Donghyuck stares at him with so much adoration. “I swear to you, Lee Donghyuck, on the rest of my life, there will never be another you. You’re my first, my last, my only love.”

“Mark Lee,” Donghyuck clears his throat. “Nearly ten years ago, a boy transfered to my school from high school from Canada. He was a year older, but he seemed like a tiny baby guppy washed up on the shore. I took him in out of the goodness of my heart.” There are a few scattered chuckles from the seated guests. “I didn’t know what love felt like until then, but it was like every movie I’d ever seen had come to life in that awkward Canadian boy. It was a clumsy first love; I followed you everywhere, like I was glued to your side. I thought everything would work out if I was always next to you.” He shakes his head with a smile. “I was so young then. I learned that love is a little bit difficult, but I’m willing to accept it all, the hard times and the easy. I love you, Mark Lee. My first love, my last love, my only love.”

Donghyuck flips the notecard around toward Mark, raising an eyebrow as if daring Mark to accuse him of stealing the phrase. Mark laughs as he scans the card in Donghyuck’s hand; inadvertently, they’d ended their vows with the same words.

The officiant’s words blur together in the background of Mark’s consciousness. The only words that matter are his and Donghyuck’s.

“I do.”

“I do.”

Then, quieter:

“Promise?”

“Promise.”