Archive of Our Own

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ 

Mark Lee doesn't really know Lee Donghyuck, but he doesn't think he needs to get to know him in order to hate him. His reputation is more than enough to come to the conclusion that he's entirely insufferable and repulsive. 

Donghyuck’s a bodyguard, but not for the right sort of people. He'll protect absolutely anyone if they pay the right price. 

Correction: he'll protect absolutely anyone other than Mark Lee. 

Mark's manager has called him countless times, offering him increasing amounts of money in exchange for his services, only to be turned down every time. His excuses range from the fact that he doesn't protect puny little rich kids to the fact that he's a bodyguard, not a babysitter, but either way the answer is always the same: a clear cut no, signalled by an abruptly ended phone call.

Despite all the rejection and despite the hatred that Mark feels burning within him, he's here now, standing in a crowded club, staring at Donghyuck across the bar table — because no matter how much he hates him, Mark needs him even more.

"Your most expensive bottle of champagne," he orders, placing his black card across the marbled tabletop, his eyes scanning the room for Donghyuck who's no longer sitting at the bar across from him. "Two glasses please."

"Think you can impress me with your riches?" Donghyuck's voice sounds from behind him and Mark can't help but smirk.

"My money is the least impressive thing about me, babe," he turns around, motioning for Donghyuck to take a seat. "Champagne?"

Donghyuck lets out a laugh as he sits down. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Because I came here to speak to you?" Mark hums, pouring some of the fizzing golden liquid into the delicate glass flutes in front of them. 

"You've received countless death threats as far as I've heard. Been attacked three times now. Your last bodyguard is dead. I would be crazy not to call you crazy for being out here alone," Donghyuck quips and Mark can tell that he's scanning the place for anyone who looks vaguely threatening and for the nearby exits. It seems like it comes so naturally to him, even when he's not working, and Mark thinks that must be why he makes such a good bodyguard. He never lets his guard down.

"I'm not alone though, am I?" he whispers, leaning closer to Donghyuck so his breath fans over his neck. "I have you."

Donghyuck scoffs in response. "What makes you so sure I wouldn't just leave you here to die, pretty boy?"

Mark contemplates that for a second. Why would he be so sure that Donghyuck would protect him with his life? Get him out of here alive even though he isn't even in his employ, and most certainly in the category of people he cares for?

"I think it's in your blood," he says softly. "You like saving people."

Another scoff. "I like the money."

"So I can impress you with my riches, after all," Mark smirks, recalling the beginning of their conversation.

"Maybe you can impress me with other things too," Donghyuck smirks too as he slides his leg between Mark's, resting his palm on his thigh in a way that makes Mark's breath catch. He knows this is a test more than anything, and he takes a slow sip from his champagne before leaning forward so their lips are nearly touching. 

"I want you…. to come and work for me."

"Such a tease," Donghyuck hums, not leaning back quite just yet. Mark can almost taste the sweetness of the champagne on his lips and he finds it a little hard to keep his gaze on Donghyuck's eyes.

"Is that a yes?" he raises an eyebrow.

Instead of a response, Donghyuck shoves him to the ground. Just seconds later, a bullet flies through the neatly arranged glassware on top of the bar table, sending shards flying everywhere.

Mark doesn't think he's ever seen the mood in a room change so quickly. Laughter turns into screaming, the dance floor into a stampede of people trying to get out as quick as they can. There are no more shots fired and that only confirms that the attackers are here for Mark and no one else. 

"See, you do like saving people." He smiles at Donghyuck who was just using his selfie camera to peer around the corner of the counter, but now turns around to shoot Mark the dirtiest glare.

"Shut the fuck up and stay down, you hear me?" he says, his voice a million times more stern than Mark has ever heard it before. Mark is about to say something but Donghyuck cuts him off. "I'm serious Mark. If I will ever work for you, you have to keep your mouth shut and listen to me."

Mark doesn't speak again until after they're safely outside and Donghyuck shoves him against the brick wall of the alleyway behind the club. He doesn't seem eager to go after the man who had just shot at Mark, nor to talk to the police who are just pulling up at the scene; he wants answers from Mark — answers he can't give him.

"What the hell was that, huh? That's not the kind of attack rich kids usually deal with; these people didn't want to kidnap you or extort you, they wanted to kill you."

His voice is quiet — he doesn't want to draw attention to them — but Mark can feel the anger in his voice, see the intensity in his eyes. It almost looks like he cares. For a second, he wants to tell him the truth but instead, he returns his gaze with steely eyes and a cold expression before shoving the boy off him.

"If you don't want to work for me, it's none of your business," he states briskly. "And if you do, I think I'm paying you enough not to ask questions."

Donghyuck studies him so intensely then that Mark can almost feel his eyes boring into his soul. He tilts his head as he looks him up and down and his intrigued gaze makes Mark feel like he's just grown a whole lot more interesting in the bodyguard's eyes.

"I'll take the job," he announces after a few moments. "But there's one question you have to answer first. Why me? Why would you risk it all just to persuade me to be your bodyguard?"

Mark thinks for a moment. He doesn't want to lie so he answers as close as he can to the truth, biting his lip before letting out a soft sigh.

"I just want to live."

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Lee Donghyuck finds Mark Lee immensely annoying. 

He hates how rich he is and how much he flaunts it. It seems like he goes out of his way to always order the most expensive item on the menu, to wear the most expensive suit, to drive the most expensive sports car. 

He hates how he has no concept of personal space and how close up he gets to people. It's not only the fact that it makes his job approximately a million times harder, there's just something so inherently annoying about his fluid movements and the way he brushes his fingers past other people's and the way he thinks everyone wants him. He acts like he's the most desirable person in the world and like the world should bow down in front of him if he as much as bats an eyelid. 

Donghyuck hates how this infuriating boy who he wants to strangle ninety percent of the time is hot and charming enough to make him question whether he really hates him or not. 

Most of all though, he hates how dishonest he is. Mark has been lying to him about so much that Donghyuck can't even keep track of it. He lies about the threats he is dealing with, he lies about where he goes and he lies about who he meets, and whenever Donghyuck questions it, it's back to the same old: he pays enough for Donghyuck to stay quiet and do his job.

Sure enough, Donghyuck gets paid well enough to do quite literally whatever Mark Lee asks of him, but it's not in his nature not to ask questions. Honestly, the money alone wouldn't be enough to keep him here, but there's something about Mark — something about the way he flirts with him then completely disregards him, something about the way he pulls him close then pushes him away — that always makes Donghyuck come back for more. 

Mark Lee has a secret and whatever it is, Donghyuck will stick by his side until he finds out what that secret is.

Right now though, he has to stick by his side in a more literal manner though, as Mark makes his way through the dance floor of whatever private party it is they're attending tonight. 

"Drink with me?" Mark asks and Donghyuck finds himself nodding. He doesn't know exactly why but Mark looks like he's been through hell and back today and Donghyuck can't help but feel a little responsibility towards Mark's mental as well as his physical wellbeing. 

It's probably a stupid decision in a million ways — a stupid decision to drink on the job, a stupid decision to drink with the boy he hates — but for once, Donghyuck ignores his head as he lifts the glass of blue liquid to his lips. He wasn't paying attention to what Mark ordered, all he knows is that the receipt says it was a hundred dollars and that it's one hell of a lot stronger than what he was expecting.

As they sit there and talk, the chaos of the party becoming nothing more than background noise, Donghyuck can't help but notice that there's something different about Mark that night. The way he talks, the way he laughs and the way he smiles, it's simultaneously the most genuine and the most sad he's ever seen him. Donghyuck wants to ask him what's wrong, to tell him that he can always talk to him, but he doesn't want to ruin the moment. 

He also wants to ask — more than ever before — what it is that Mark is hiding. It seems he's let down some walls tonight, maybe enough so for Donghyuck to get the answers he wants.

So he goes ahead and ruins the moment.

"What am I protecting you from Mark?" he asks softly, trying to meet his gaze as he looks at him over the brim of his glass. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

Mark lets out a scoff, like he's annoyed at himself. "So that's why. That's why you're here drinking with me, even though you hate me," he mutters. "What, did you think I'd tell you if I had enough to drink?"

Donghyuck wants to tell him that that's not the reason at all. He wants to say that he just wanted to be here for him — that he's only asking because he wants to protect him. Instead, he repeats his question.

Mark doesn't reply. He just stands up, placing his glass down silently before he walks towards the bathrooms. 

Donghyuck follows him without second thought, cornering Mark again in the hallway leading towards the restrooms. "What are you hiding from me?" he demands, his hand pushing against Mark's chest and pressing him against the wall. "I want the truth."

"You couldn't handle it," comes the response and it only serves to infuriate him more until Mark speaks again. "I know I can't."

Donghyuck wants to scream and shout at Mark until he tells him the truth, but as he stands there, staring into his eyes and standing close enough to feel his breath on his face, he can't find it in him to do either. Instead, he does something that surprises both of them.

Lee Donghyuck kisses Mark Lee.

It's impulsive and it's reckless and it's stupid, and it just feels so right. It takes Mark a second to come to terms with what's happening but now his lips are moving against Donghyuck's in perfect synchronisation, their lips slotting together like they’ve always meant to be like that.

Donghyuck feels like his entire body is doused in gasoline and Mark has the match, every inch of him ready to combust. His heart races as the adrenaline runs through his veins and he can't help but note that this feeling is so addictive he doesn't think he'll ever be able to stop if he doesn't right now. 

For the second time that night, Donghyuck ignores his head, letting his thoughts be consumed with Mark, and only Mark. How heavenly his lips feel against his, how warm his touch is and how it sends electricity coursing through his vein each time his soft fingers explore a new part of his body. 

Mark is the one to pull apart and as much as Donghyuck hates it, he feels a pang of disappointment. Except Mark doesn't walk away, not really; he walks into the bathroom, looking over his shoulder and back at Donghyuck in a way that pulls him to follow like a magnet. 

"What now?" he asks in a whisper as soon as he closes the door of the bathroom behind them. Mark doesn't use words to answer. Instead, he pulls Donghyuck towards him by the lapel of his suit jacket, kissing him with so much intensity that it sucks the breath out of his lungs.

Mark mesmerises him, hypnotises him, makes him forget the rest of the world. Their kiss is everything he's wanted and everything he's needed and still so much more. He can't even find it in himself to be mad about the fact that he desires the boy he so hates everyone wanting.

Their tongues battle for dominance, their lips moving against each other with so much passion and so much force that their noses bump together, leaving them in a small fit of giggles.

They break the kiss then, foreheads pressing together, breath fanning over each other's lips and hands stroking each other's faces like they're afraid to let go. There's a sense of vulnerability in that moment — one Donghyuck doesn't think he's ever felt before, not with Mark, not with anyone else — and he finds himself wanting to hold onto that moment forever. He knows it's one they'll never be able to recreate, one born out of anger and hatred and a weird sense of longing for someone who understands but also won't stick around. 

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Mark," he says, his voice much softer now than it was before. The words aren't so much a demand as they are a plea, one which he really hopes Mark will heed. 

Mark doesn't say anything for a moment, his fingers tracing down Donghyuck's cheeks, his jawline, the nape of his neck. There's something in his eyes then — something other than just lust — as he surveys the boy in front of him. 

The look is gone as quickly as it came and Mark's hand that had made its way down to his chest now pushes him backwards with such force that he falls back onto the cabriole that sits against the wall.

Before he can even complain, Mark closes the gap between them again, lowering himself into Donghyuck's lap, his arms wrapping around his neck. There's nothing in his eyes now other than lust as he leans forward to meet Donghyuck's lips.

"And I just want you to fuck me."

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Mark hates crying. He hates how weak it makes him look and how inadequate it makes him feel. He hates how easily his tears can be triggered by something as simple as a phone call. Most of all though, he hates that Donghyuck is always there, like a shadow that he can't shake. He would double his pay in a heartbeat if it meant that he would just leave him alone for a few moments.

The tears prick at the side of Mark's eyes as he sits in the car, the world nothing more than a blur of muted colours in the winter rain. The car is standing still in the usual New York traffic and Mark feels like walls are closing in on him. Home feels like it's forever away and Mark doesn't think he can make it there before falling apart, not like this, not when he can barely breathe.

"I'll walk from here," he blurts out and he's opening his car door before Donghyuck or his chauffeur can tell him otherwise. 

Mark isn't dressed for walking and the wind blows easily through his simple white shirt, the drops of rain feeling cool against his skin. He'll probably get a cold if he really does walk home like this, but just stepping out of the car into the fresh air makes it all worthwhile.

He grew up in Seoul and has lived in New York City for five years now, but there's still something about big cities that amazes him. He loves the bustle and how there's enough people everywhere for him to completely disappear into the crowd. He likes to just stop and think about all the people who moved there to pursue their dreams, all their goals and all their aspirations, and how full of opportunities this place is. It gives him hope for his own future. Of course, he already has opportunities galore, but the city gives him a different kind of hope. It lets him imagine that one day he'll be one of these people, ordinary and yet so special in their own ways, pursuing something they want and something they believe in. Mark thinks that maybe one day the city where so many people think their dreams will come true will also be the city where he gets a shot at just dreaming.

Mark's so caught up in his own thoughts that the outside world almost entirely disappears. He barely feels the cold and the rain, and he doesn't notice that Donghyuck is following him until he feels the soft touch of a jacket on his shoulders. 

God, he really needed that warmth and now that he looks back over his shoulder, he feels like he really needs Donghyuck too. 

"Are you okay?" Donghyuck asks and he looks so genuinely concerned that the usual lie freezes in his throat. He can't exactly admit his real feelings, though, and not only because of boundaries he needs to remember or things he isn't allowed to tell anyone. Mark Lee isn't good with feelings. It almost feels like every single time he tries to put his emotions into words, it comes out a mess, not at all how he intends. He doesn't really know how to express them either. He isn't sure how to apologise or how to show someone your love without an expensive present. He isn't sure how he's supposed to tell someone he's sad, how he's supposed to admit that even though he has quite literally everything anyone could want, he just feels so empty.

Rage is the only feeling he's familiar with expressing, which is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows his family. Anger was always the one thing his parents truly expressed, be it through shouting down the phone or chuckling glasses past each others' heads. Crashing plates and furious voices provided the symphony to the background music of Mark's early years and they became a melody that still echoes in his mind. 

Love is the feeling he's least familiar with expressing. Honestly, Mark doesn't think he's ever seen real love. He's seen expensive dates and diamond jewellery. He's seen honeymoon suites and thousand dollar bottles of champagne and private jets for romantic getaways. He's seen romance in its most extravagant, most loud forms. He used to think that's all there was to love — or at least that it was the only side of love he'd ever get to see — but recently, something's changed. He's found himself longing for something so normal and so quiet and so genuine.

As genuine as that look in Lee Donghyuck's eyes.

Mark is so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn't realise he's crying until he feels Donghyuck's fingers brushing the tears from his face. At first, he wants to jerk away, to tell Donghyuck to remember his place. Instead, he finds himself leaning into his touch as he lets his eyes close for a moment.

The city is so loud that it's almost deafening. There's the constant hum of engines as they stand in traffic, the occasional roar when the vehicles finally move. There are honking and frustrated complaints, but there's also laughter and loud phone calls and conversations between people walking through the streets. It's undoubtedly chaos, albeit one that Mark usually enjoys. Right now though, he wants nothing more than peace. He wants the noise to fade, the world to shut its blinds until it's completely dark and he's completely alone.

That's exactly what happens when Donghyuck finally pulls him into his arms, letting Mark bury his face in his chest — except it's even better. The rest of the world disappears, but Donghyuck doesn't. In that moment, Donghyuck feels infinite, and even though Mark knows he's only even there because he's being paid, he can't help but think that maybe, after all this time, someone is going to stick around.

"Let me take you home," Donghyuck whispers softly, and Mark doesn't think he's ever heard words so beautiful.

Donghyuck doesn't let go of him for their entire journey home. He holds his arms gently as he guides him through the streets, his calloused fingers occasionally and briefly touching Mark's hot cheeks. Holding onto him feels like holding onto a raft would for a drowning man. It feels like Donghyuck is the only thing stopping Mark from suffocating is a sea of troubles he simply isn't skilled enough to handle. 

Neither of them say anything but there's no need for words. Just having Donghyuck there, by his side and holding onto him, it's everything Mark needs right now. It's everything he's ever needed. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

The question only breaks the silence once they’re back in Mark's room, Mark sitting on the edge of his bed, a warm hoodie and a thick blanket shrouding his body. 

"No," Mark sighs. "I don't think I want to talk. Not about that, not about anything else."

Donghyuck bites his lip like he's contemplating something before he speaks again. "Is it to do with why I'm here, Mark? Because as much as you don't tell me anything, I can tell there's something that scares you, even more than you're willing to admit to yourself.

There's something different about the way he's asking now to the times he's asked before. There's no anger in his voice or demand or intense curiosity. It's just worry and care and so much sincerity that it nearly makes Mark cry again.

Except he isn't good with feelings. Not with anything other than anger.

He hates it — he hates himself and how he sounds — but his next words come out full of venomous wrath. "Is that all you fucking care about?" he spits. "Knowing the fucking truth? Can't you at least for a minute pretend to care about me, and just me ?"

Donghyuck looks taken aback. Emotions flash through his eyes, from hurt to confusion to anger. He doesn't seem to understand that Mark is just hurting and lashing out at him because he's angry at the world. 

"Pretend to fucking care about you?" he repeats, his voice so cold and full of spite that it makes Mark physically recoil. "Are you really so fucked up you can't even tell that I do care about you? I get that emotions are a little hard for you to grasp when all you do is fuck people and cast them aside, but I won't just sit here and take it when you say things like that."

Donghyuck's words seem to be flooding out of his mouth like a river and they hit Mark like a wall of water. If he felt like he was struggling to stay afloat before, now he feels like the waves are crashing over his head.

"You're a fucking asshole, Lee Donghyuck," he mutters but his resolve to keep his feelings hidden is fading. There's no real anger in his words, just hurt and so much emptiness. He doesn't even wait for a response as he falls onto his back, letting himself sink into his stupid memory foam mattress and willing it to swallow him up.

Donghyuck doesn't say anything. Mark can feel the floorboards creak but he can't find it in himself to open his eyes to see what Donghyuck is doing. Either way, he doesn't need to see to know that he's probably leaving. After all, what else would he be doing after Mark just declared his undying hatred for him?

The mattress under him shifts slightly as Donghyuck lies on the mattress next to him.

"I don't think I hate you, Mark Lee," is all he says before silence falls over the two of them, only interrupted by Donghyuck's heavy breaths.

A moment seems to turn into an eternity and Mark can't help but feel like the world around them could collapse and they could still stay there, just lying next to each other, breathing, their fingers lightly touching.

As it turns out, an eternity doesn't really exist and it takes something much more simple than the world collapsing for their moment to come to an end. 

Donghyuck's phone beeps and judging by the shifts in the mattress, he sits up to check his messages. 

"It's getting late," he says after a few moments. "I should go."

Mark isn't usually one for careless words but this time, he doesn't really think before he speaks. 

"Or you could stay," he says and his words are soft but full of confidence he didn't even realise he harboured, especially not now. When Donghyuck doesn't reply straight away, Mark sits up too, turning to face the boy sitting on the edge of his bed. "You could stay, Hyuck," he repeats, meeting his chocolate brown eyes. 

"Tell me to stay," Donghyuck says and the words almost sound like a plea.

"No," Mark finds himself saying and he surprises himself nearly as much as he surprises Donghyuck.

"But didn't you just — "

"I don't want to give you the excuse of an order. If you want to stay, then stay," he says, keeping his gaze steady, almost like he's challenging Donghyuck — but as much as he sounds defiant, he prays to God that Donghyuck chooses to stay here.

He doesn't.

They never do.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Donghyuck skin is covered in great purple welts that will undoubtedly just deepen over the next few days, his lip still oozing blood no matter how many times he rinses them. As he looks at himself in the mirror, he has to admit that he looks like he's been through hell and black.

Alas, he's meant to be meeting Mark in just half an hour to accompany him to some dinner banquet, and he's already running late. He doubts Mark would take kindly to him flaking out at the last minute.

He sighs deeply as he buttons up his crisp black shirt, wincing as he moves his arms backwards to pull on his suit jacket. He goes for all black instead of his usual white in case any of his smaller scars start bleeding — he doesn't want to attract any unwanted attention. 

He has a harder job covering up the bruise across his cheek that seems to peek through no matter how much concealer he layers on top of it. The concealer isn't his own anyway — it's Jaemin's, who left it there back when he was moving out from their shared apartment — and the shade stands out so much against Donghyuck's golden skin that he isn't sure whether it just makes it worse.

He rests his head in his hands for a moment, taking a moment to breathe. He needs to pull himself together.

The injuries themselves aren't too bad, but the real one is within. It's that feeling of betrayal and loss that Donghyuck gets from knowing where his injuries come from. 

He knows he isn't family to those people. He knows that when it comes to the mafia, no one trusts anyone. He knows that as an ex-bodyguard and only somewhat of a friend, he's the one it makes the most sense to accuse when someone planted bugs at the establishment. Hell, he even understands the anger behind their actions and why Jeno and Jisung beat him up, thinking he was the reason their father landed in prison. 

Understanding alone doesn't make it any easier to accept the fact that the boys he views as brothers believed he would turn on them so quickly. Nothing can make that better, but having to go to work right now can most certainly make it far worse.

That is until he sees Mark Lee.

He doesn't know what's up with him recently but this week, he's had to fight the constant tugging of a small smile at his lips every time he lays eyes on the boy.

The urge to smile disappears as quickly as it comes when Mark marches towards him. He looks determined, and kind of angry, and Donghyuck doesn't understand why. It can't possibly be because he's a couple of minutes late, can it?

It's probably just because of the earlier events of the day but Donghyuck finds himself flinching when Mark reaches towards him. Instead of a hit though, Mark just grabs his chin gently, rotating it so he can survey his skin.

Donghyuck bites his lip in embarrassment. He wants to say something, make up a stupid excuse that he fell over his own feet, but the words won't come. Mark is the one to break the tense silence, but his words aren't addressed to Donghyuck. 

"I'd like for you to cancel my plans this evening," he says to his manager.

For the second time that night, Donghyuck can't find the right words to speak, no matter how much he wants to protest. He doesn't want Mark to miss his dinner plans, not because of him. He's supposed to be here to make his life easier, not to make it a million times harder.

"You don't have to do this," he finally gets out as Mark guides him towards his own living quarters. "I'm perfectly fine."

Mark scoffs. "You look like hell, Hyuck. Plus, you know I'll take any excuse to miss one of those horrendously boring banquets." Donghyuck knows he only adds the latter part to make him feel better but admittedly, it does succeed in drawing a small smile to his face.

"Shirt off," Mark orders as soon as he closes the door to his room and Donghyuck's jaw practically drops, his eyes widening in disbelief. 

"Oh don't be such an idiot, Hyuck." Mark rolls his eyes. "I'm not asking you to strip for me. I just want to see the rest of your injuries."

"What, so you can patch me up with your little at home first aid kit?" Donghyuck quips, arching an eyebrow as Mark walks off towards his bathroom.

"Precisely, Donghyuck," Mark replies and Donghyuck can tell just by his voice that he's smirking. 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes even though Mark can't see. God, he's so annoying. Still, he slowly pulls his jacket off, biting his lip to keep himself from letting out a groan of frustration when he feels the pain in his shoulders. Mark walks back in as he's halfway through unbuttoning his shirt and now it's his turn for wide eyes and a dropped jaw. He clearly isn’t expecting Donghyuck to be this injured.

"Holy fucking shit," he mutters.

"Mmh, you're so turned on by my abs?" He tries to play it off with a joke but Mark only scowls as he steps closer to him, his fingers reaching out and gently tracing along the blooming marks across Donghyuck's chest and abdomen.

"What the hell happened Donghyuck? Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," he replies quickly. "I just got in a fight."

Obviously, it does matter, very much so, but Donghyuck doesn't feel like Mark would understand. His world is just so different. He'd probably say something so ignorant and so privileged about how this was a turn for the better and that Donghyuck shouldn't hang out with the mafia. He'd never understand.

Mark frowns like he wants to question his answer and push him further, but eventually, he settles for a small nod before setting down the first aid kit on his bed.

"There's nothing that needs stitches, there are only minor open cuts," he says matter of factly, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. "You should have a hot shower. It'll help with the bruising."

Donghyuck nods, walking into the bathroom. A hot shower will be good for him, he knows that, but right now, he also just wants to curl up in Mark's arms and feel his lips against his. There might not be anything real between the two of them but right now, he wants — he needs — Mark more than words can describe.

It's thanks to this indescribable feeling that he does something so entirely unexpected that his own words manage to shock him. Instead of closing the door, he turns around to meet Mark's eyes before softly addressing him. "But I don't want to be alone."

For the same person who requested Donghyuck to fuck him in a public restroom, Mark goes remarkably red. 

"I guess we can take that shower together then," he says after a moment and Donghyuck can tell he's trying to act all suave about it but he still looks pretty flustered. It's probably not the idea itself but Donghyuck seriously doubts Mark is used to someone other than him taking the lead.

Honestly though, Donghyuck doesn't even want anything like that. He just wants to hold Mark close, skin against skin, under the hot water. He wants the only sound in the room to be the stream of water hitting the marble and Mark's soft breathing. In that moment, Donghyuck doesn't want anything loud or anything extravagant, he just wants something quiet and soft and genuine.

He wants Mark Lee. The real him, not the boy he so often pretends to be. For a moment, he wants to forget everything and pretend that this is love.

It's thoughts like this that are circling his mind as he unbuttons Mark dress shirt, discarding it on the bathroom floor. It's dreams of something so normal and so simple that occupy his thoughts as he pulls down his own trousers, leaving them next to it. He tries his best to shed his worries alongside his clothes, hoping the hot shower will wash him clean of more than just some dried up blood.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened?" Mark asks softly once they’re both standing under the showerhead, the warm water pouring over them like summer rain. 

Donghyuck most definitely doesn't want to talk about it. "I think I just want you to kiss me," he says, his soft tone matching Mark's question.

Mark leans forward, slotting their lips together. It's kind of messy, the warm water slipping in between their mouths, their fingers getting tangled in each other wet strands, their bodies so close together under the hot shower that Donghyuck feels like every inch of him is on fire. 

Donghyuck feels safe in Mark's arms and it's easy to ignore the pounding ache throughout his body when Mark's lips are on his, when Mark’s hands slide down his body in time with the water to tug his hips closer. Their breaths mingle with the steam, the air stifling between them, but the lack of air doesn’t matter. 

Somewhere in the midst of the moment, Donghyuck loses track of whose limbs are whose, where Mark ends and he begins, the water having no space to run between them because of how close they are — heated skin on heated skin. Here, pressed between Mark’s chest and the shower wall, barely able to breathe, he’d gladly stay forever.

The moment isn't perfect — it's nowhere near it — but it's real and that's all Donghyuck wants.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Guilt is a funny feeling, especially for Mark Lee and especially when it comes to Lee Donghyuck.

Ever since Donghyuck showed up to work a couple of nights ago, bruises covering his cheeks and his entire torso, Mark has been trying to push away this all-consuming feeling of guilt that seems to take over his every thought. 

He shoves it down, telling himself that he has nothing to feel bad about, that he did exactly what he had to do. 

He calculated everything carefully to minimise the damage. He made sure the shooters he hired were paid in cash and that the transaction went through a multitude of trustworthy contacts through enough codenames and secret drop-offs that no one could trace the money back to him. He made sure the men were perfect marksmen who never missed and explicitly instructed them that no civilians should be harmed. He had Donghyuck followed for weeks, instructed his family's best tech people to work out exactly what kind of bug had the audio reach to listen in on the members of the mafia family he so frequently visits. 

Mark's plan was flawless, except for one small miscalculation, and that miscalculation was the very person of Lee Donghyuck.

Seeing him beaten up and hurt so much more than just physically, Mark can no longer tell himself he has no reason to feel guilty.

That's why when Donghyuck barges into his house that day, face red with anger and voice booming across the rooms, Mark can't help but think it's well deserved reckoning.

"It was you," Donghyuck shouts, but as soon as he meets Mark's eyes, the look of anger in his eyes is replaced with one of betrayal and contempt, and it's so much worse. "It was you planted that fucking bug in the jacket that I wear to work every day."

Mark sighs, lowering his gaze. He knows there's no point denying the truth, or trying to give much of an explanation. There's really nothing he can do to change the way that Donghyuck is looking at him right now, in a way that breaks Mark's heart into tiny pieces. 

Last time they were standing this close, eyes locked together, Mark could swear he almost saw love in Donghyuck's eyes. Now, he sees disgust and hurt. 

"Hyuck, you have to understand, I had my reasons," he says softly but it feels like a meek excuse, even to him. 

Donghyuck jerks his chin up so his eyes meet his. "At least have the decency to fucking look at me," he practically spits.

Mark heaves another sigh. He wants to explain everything, from the very beginning to the very end. 

He wants to talk about how horrible the last summer of his life was because he found out that his family were exactly the kind of people he hated. He wants to talk about the betrayal he felt when it came to light that his parents weren't just unloving but that they were criminals — that they were bad people. He wants to talk about the humiliation and the shame he felt when he watched his dad taken away in handcuffs, an officer reading out a list of charges with way too many technical terms and a few that Mark still wishes he didn't know.

He wants to talk about the officer that came to talk to him and his parents, to discuss the potential terms of his bail, and more importantly, the potential of an immunity deal. Mark wants to tell him about the ongoing internal dilemma in his head about how he can't help but love his dad, even if he's done horrible things and even if Mark feels that he's a huge part of the reason that he himself is so fucked up.

He wants to explain the details of the immunity deal and how the police wanted information about his dad's mafia contacts, and how exasperated his mum was because there was no way they had enough information or a real way to get it. He remembers the relief that came when the family's finance manager came up with a whole different way to get the information they needed. Mark wants to tell Donghyuck that he was just trying to save his dad from prison — to save his family from falling apart — but his tongue feels like lead and his throat seems to be constricting.

"It was the lesser of two evils," he gets out eventually. "I —"

"I don't care about your reasons," Donghyuck cuts in before he can launch into his story, before he can give his reasons, and more importantly, his countless apologies. 

"Hyuck, just give me a chance to explain, please," Mark pleads and he's perfectly aware just how pathetic and desperate he sounds, but he can't find it in himself to feel any shame for it. Honestly, he already feels enough shame for his past actions to care. He would throw away his pride and drop down on his knees to beg for Donghyuck's forgiveness if that's what it took. 

"Why should I?" Donghyuck asks, his voice so full of spite that Mark barely registers his words over the pain they bring. "Why should I even trust a word you say, Mark? You betrayed me."

The words cut Mark like a knife but just when he thinks it can't get any worse, Donghyuck speaks again. 

"You used me, Mark."

"I never used you," he says softly, his words barely above a whisper. The accusation stings like salt in an open wound. There are many mistakes he made but he really never meant to use Donghyuck. Everything between them was real. 

"Then tell me, Mark, when exactly did you get close enough to me to sneak that damn bug in my pocket?" Donghyuck asks the question like he already knows the answer and Mark supposes that he already does. He may not know the exact time, but there weren't that many moments when Mark was close enough to him to do such a thing. There were even fewer moments where trained bodyguard Donghyuck with his eager eyes and perfect observational skills was distracted enough not to notice.

"That night in the bathroom," Mark answers reluctantly, his voice clearly strained. 

Those five words alone bring back so many memories. Nothing about that night was meant to be special. He was in a bad mood. It was a stupid party at a stupidly expensive club with people Mark didn't even like but who he had to convince there was quite literally nowhere else he'd rather be. 

His mood only got worse when Donghyuck brought up why exactly he was working for him, asking questions Mark couldn't answer but that were already eating away at him. Things got heated so quickly and then Donghyuck kissed him out of nowhere and Mark got caught up in a whirlwind of passion that took him way over any lines or boundaries he had established. 

Sleeping with Donghyuck in a bathroom of all places was anything but sophisticated or romantic so even though Mark knew he was overstepping, he didn't in a million years think that this was where those steps were slowly leading. He didn't even consider the possibility that one day he would grow to genuinely care for the boy he found so infuriating and so infuriatingly hot. The fact that one day the word love would even cross his mind regarding Lee Donghyuck was unimaginable to him at the time.

That's why it was so easy to slip that goddamn bug in his pocket that night, why there's only a small pang of guilt that his hands were wandering Donghyuck's body for the best place to put it, when Donghyuck's were exploring Mark’s figure for much different reasons.

"Now tell me, how am I not supposed to feel used?" Donghyuck lets out a weird sound, somewhere in between a scoff and a bitter laugh, but the pain in it is unmissable.

"I'm sorry Hyuck," Mark sighs. "But I always wanted you. I wanted you — I wanted to be there for you — even after it all went down. That night in the shower. It was real."

Donghyuck looks at him like he's just ruined something sacred, bringing up that night in the shower, bringing up a moment that neither of them can deny felt real.

"None of this was real." Donghyuck's tone is cold as ever but his voice cracks — just a little but enough for Mark to notice. Mark isn't sure if the next words are really meant for him, or if Donghyuck just says it to reassure himself, but either way, they break what remains of his heart. "Because if this wasn't real then I'm not losing anyone tonight, just finding out the truth about someone I shouldn't trust," Donghyuck whispers, his hoarse voice barely audible. 

Mark doesn't know what to say. He doesn't have anything to say that could help, that could fix the gaping hole in between them even though they are standing just inches apart.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispers and he has to physically stop himself from raising a hand to Donghyuck's cheek. 

"Bold of you to think you have the power to hurt me Minhyung," comes the cold answer, but it's a useless lie neither of them believes. 

"But we both know that I did," Mark sighs. "And I just want you to know that I never meant to do it." 

"You never meant to hurt me? Do you hear yourself right now?" Donghyuck's loud outburst is such a contrast to his quiet whisper that it makes Mark physically recoils. Donghyuck looks livid in that moment. His eyes seem practically black as he searches Mark for any semblance of an adequate answer. 

Mark doesn't have one. The truth is, he always knew he was going to hurt someone. He just didn't know that someone would be someone he would care about, someone that he would mind hurting — and that isn't an adequate response. It's not sufficient, nor is it fair, that he only cares about hurting someone if he cares about that person himself. 

"I'm sorry," is all he has left to say. Two simple words. Nothing more, nothing less. Except Mark pours his whole soul into them. He pours all the guilt and sadness and anger and every other feeling he usually doesn't know how to express into those three syllables. 

Most importantly perhaps, he puts all his love into it — all the love he's struggled to accept and all the love he's never felt before — and he prays that somehow, someday, somewhere, that will be enough. 

"I don't need your apologies, Mark." It seems Donghyuck has regained control over his emotions, a little too much so in Mark's personal opinion, because his voice and his expression are both entirely devoid of emotion. "You played a fucked up game and you won, Mark Lee. I hope you're happy."

Mark almost lets out a laugh, a bitter cold sound. "No, Donghyuck, we both lost."

"Oh yeah? What did you lose?" Donghyuck shoots the question at him in such a harsh tone that Mark knows there's nothing he can say to change the fact that Donghyuck is leaving.

Still, Mark tells the truth.

"I lost you."