Work Text:
“Do you want to know a secret?”
It is incredible how just a few words can change your entire worldview.
He wouldn’t think much of it, conversation to pass the time, made when they’re both crammed too close together in the walk-in freezer of the shitty summer job that Mark gets every year, waiting until someone remembers to check on them and realizes that the door locked behind them.
But ever since they got trapped in here a few minutes prior Haechan had been silent, until now, as he speaks, without waiting for Mark’s answer, “You’re going to get the promotion.”
Mark tugs his arms closer around his body trying to trap his body heat inside as he replies, “What?”
“To manager,” he says, the obviously silent but not missed.
They’d been fighting about this all summer, then again when were the two of them not fighting, competing to see who could do their jobs the best and impress the current manager in hopes of being the one to have stable employment once the summer was over, the glory of being to hold that over the other.
Fighting over that was the exact reason they were currently stuck in a walk-in freezer, “What are you talking about? Why?”
Haechan shrugs, eyes darting around the freezer for a moment before he finally answers, “Because you’re the main character.”
*
The thing about Mark’s life is that it is perfect .
Or as perfect, as anyone’s life could be.
He knows he’s lucky.
That he has two parents that love him and always support and encourage his hobbies, always managing to obtain exactly what he needs to try out something new whenever the whim strikes him.
(Unless that whim would mean leaving his picture-perfect hometown.)
That he has an older brother who had always been a guiding mentor until he went off to college two years ago.
(Who now never seemed to want to return home or to even be able to pick up the phone when Mark called unless their parents scheduled the call days in advance, and even then always seemed too busy to talk for long.)
That he has friends, plenty of them, the guys from the basketball team, all the girls that had through he was so cool in high school, and, of course, his childhood rival and next-door neighbor.
(The exact person who turned his world on end with just five words.)
The thing about Mark’s life is that it is perfect.
Until it isn’t.
*
Mark gets the promotion a week later.
The victory ice cream he gets himself afterward doesn’t taste nearly as sweet as he had hoped it would.
Not when Haechan is there, clearly pretending to play one of the arcade games, but actually just staring at the screen. He does that often, just appears places but doesn’t seem to actually be doing anything until Mark interacts with him, sometimes it is easier just to let him be to walk by and pretend that he doesn’t notice him and avoid the drama that always comes from their interactions.
But today he can’t stop himself, bumping into Haechan’s shoulders (the arcade game is predictably still on the start screen), and saying - “That thing you said the other day, it was just to psych me out, right?”
There’s a desperate edge to his voice.
“Would that help you sleep better at night?” The high-pitched joking tone that should have come with those words is absent.
Mark’s ice cream melts, dripping down to make his fingers sticky, but he can’t bring himself to care, “It’s not funny anymore, stop it.”
Haechan’s voice is low, barely a whisper, leaning into Mark’s space, “We can’t do this here the cameras can hear you.”
Mark copies his tone, as his stomach churns, “What do you mean ‘the cameras’?”
*
This is a joke.
A terrible sick joke and tomorrow Haechan is going to laugh and tell everyone that they work with how dumb Mark is for falling for what was obviously a joke.
And life will go back to normal.
At least, that’s what Mark tells himself as he crawls out of his bedroom window, careful, moving as he climbs into the tree that never actually seems to bang against his windows on windy days, sneaking out for the first time in his life.
(How has he gone his whole life up until now without realizing that there’s never been a stormy day or a snowy day, or even just a rainy day?)
There’s a break in the fence between his yard and Haechan’s family’s yard, a board they broke when they were kids and that neither of their parents ever bothered to fix, happy to encourage the ‘friendship’ between their two boys, even if it usually ended in a mostly friendly competition about literally everything.
Haechan’s house is dark, the lights are all off…
Because it’s two in the morning and everyone is asleep, not because….
(“Nobody will be home, unless you’re having a sleepover or something, everyone else gets to go back to their own lives at the end of the night,” Haechan had explained. “I mean, everyone except your fake parents, they have to stay in case you wake up and need something.”
“My fake what?”
“Everyone’s pretty sure that’s why Youngho quit, got sick of playing pretend 24/7.”
“Wait - Who’s Youngho?”)
The house is empty.
The whole house.
Not just Haechan’s bedroom
Just like he has said that it would be.
*
“Do you believe me now?”
They’re in the walk-in freezer again, because apparently, it’s one of the only places without cameras, something about the cold or whatever.
Haechan had explained it when they first got in, speaking in a rush and impossible for Mark to follow.
When he had blurted out, “I didn’t know that they made cameras that small yet?”
The look he got in return was best classified as pity, “Sometimes I forget that you still think it’s 1988.”
“It’s not?”
Haechan doesn’t reply.
That’s an answer in itself.
“Why would you tell me this? I mean, if what you’re saying is true, why tell me? Why now?”
“They’re writing me off at the end of the season,” he replies, letting out a bitter laugh.
“They’re writing you off,” Mark repeats, “What does that even mean?”
“I think right now they’re deciding between my family moving and a tragic car accident,” he replies. “Moving gives them a chance of having me guest star in later episodes, but well, giving you something to angst over is also a great plot point.”
The way Haechan says it.
So matter of fact.
It hurts.
Hurts somewhere deep inside of Mark’s chest, his voice breaks, when he says, “I don’t want you to die.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t die in real life,” He points out, “And now you know it’s not real, so you’d just have to still pretend to be sad.”
“I don’t want you to die, or to be written off, fuck, Haechan, I- Wait,” Mark pauses. “Wait- So you’re an actor right? Like your job is to pretend to be my friend-”
“I believe the casting call was technically for a childhood rival.”
“-Is your name really even Haechan?”
“No.”
No .
“What is it?”
“Donghyuck.”
*
The thing about sudden realizations is that once you have them they don’t stop, they don’t go away.
Like realizing that your entire world is fake.
That all your friends are fake.
Your family is fake.
Your hopes and dreams are fake.
For the first time in Mark’s life, he rebels, he skips work, he lies to his parents, and bikes to the park that he always used to play at as a kid, content to just lay on the grass and stare up at the sky.
With clouds that never change, no matter how many hours he spends staring up at them.
Fake clouds.
In a fake sky.
A fake sun shining down upon him.
Everything is fake.
“You know, you’re going to get me fired sooner rather than later if you keep acting like this.”
Everything except Donghyuck.
*
“Wait, are we not really Canadian?”
“I’ve never even been to Canada.”
“Okay, but we’re speaking English right now, right?”
“You actually want me to answer that question?”
*
“My parents are going to be pissed,” Donghyuck says.
“They gave you permission to spend the night, we asked,” Mark reminds him.
“Not those parents.”
Oh , right.
They’re pressed together, too close, under the covers, but still whispering just in case. They have long since turned off the lights, Donghyuck insisting that they normally edited out any nighttime footage, bad lighting, and all that, and that nothing from their sleepover would actually make it in a future episode.
But to still be cautious, because the editors were always listening in.
“What are they like,” Mark asks.
“I don’t see them all that much,” he whispers back, “But they’re all actors too. My mom just won another award for acting, and my little brother got cast in some new drama. Everyone says I’ll get plenty of good roles after this.”
After this…
When he gets written off…
What was the point of being the main character if he couldn’t keep Donghyuck around?
He says as much, loud enough that only Donghyuck can hear.
“That’s the problem,” he replies. “You like me too much, some of the viewers thought it was weird, so they’re writing me off, so other people can get screen time.”
Weird.
For a while he’s worried exactly this, that feeling that twists inside of Mark’s gut every time he looks at Donghyuck for too long would be considered weird , which is why he’s never said anything. Always left those thoughts for himself, and a long shower or a dark night or…
A chill runs up Mark’s spine remembering the cameras, always listening in, the cameras that might have heard the name that’s on his lips when he wakes in the middle of the night from a really good dream.
“You’re supposed to get a love interest next season,” Donghyuck has continued to explain even when Mark wasn’t listening. “They’ve been doing the casting for the girls, there’s even a national poll to pick the top contenders.”
“A love interest,” Mark can’t help the pitch of his voice.
Too loud.
Panicked.
Donghyuck’s hand over his mouth is a grounding presence, as he shushes Mark.
Mark’s heart hammers so loud that he wonders if the cameras listening in can pick on it. There’s no way that Donghyuck doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t hear what he does to Mark. Against all of his better judgment.
“I don’t want a love interest, I want…” You .
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s going to hurt more when I’m gone.”
*
He skips work again.
They both do.
There’s a certain rush to it, riding a bicycle down a crowded street, Donghyuck racing beside him. They haven’t done this since they were kids, biking out past the town that Mark grew up in and into the fields that surround the town.
Cornfields that he used to be afraid of as a kid.
Because there were rumors that kids got lost in them years ago and never returned.
Rumors that in hindsight were probably made up to keep Mark from even reaching the edge of his world, the dome that his fake town exists within, that his entire life has been built under.
“Have you even touched the edge?”
Donghyuck shakes his head, “They normally send us through tunnels under the houses in order to leave.”
There are no animals out there.
Not even a single bug.
How had he never realized before?
“I’m scared.”
“We don’t have to do it,” Donghyuck reminds him. “We can go back.”
As if this whole thing wasn’t Mark’s idea.
He can’t bring himself to admit the truth.
He’s not afraid to learn that his world isn’t real, not afraid to touch the edge of the dome and feel the proof of it all under his fingers. He’s afraid of what happens next, and what happens tomorrow, when they go back and he can’t pretend that everything is normal, but that he has to because… What comes after this?
What else is out there in the world?
“What if we just stay here for the night, they won’t send someone to get us, right,” Mark asks, “And we won’t get in trouble because I’m the main character ?”
One more day.
*
The fake stars twinkle down on them.
The field remains as empty of animals or other people or anything other than the two of them.
But neither of them can sleep and -
“Why’d you tell me all this, Donghyuck? Why?”
“Because you deserve to know the truth.”
“And because you’re bitter that they were writing you off? That you’re losing a good paycheck or that-”
“That I’m losing you.”
Those four words.
Mark swears his heart stops in his chest.
He knows, somehow even before Donghyuck says the words, what they’re going to be, because Mark feels it too, has for far too long, before he could even really bring himself to admit it.
But well, that’s the thing about sudden realizations, once you have them they don’t go away.
Like learning that your whole life is a television show.
Or that you’re in love.
“I think I’ve been in love with you since that first day on set, when you smiled at me and asked to be my friend, and I had to tell you no ,” Donghyuck admits. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be your friend, until now.”
“What do you want now?”
“To be your love interest.”
There’s not much space between them, but they both seem to move, two magnets being pulled towards each other.
Inevitable.
There in the middle of the field, with cameras undoubtedly watching them, he kisses Donghyuck like his life depends on it, pouring every emotion that he has been repressing for far too long into the press of their lips together.
His eyes burn with unshed tears when they pull apart for air.
“Why can’t you be?”
*
“I’m afraid that the second I let you out of my sight that you’ll disappear.”
He notices that Donghyuck pointedly doesn’t reply to that.
Doesn’t offer an empty reassurance.
“Let’s not waste today worrying about tomorrow.”
*
There’s a moving sign on the lawn of the house next door when he wakes up in the morning.
A sign that hadn’t been there the night before, when he hugged Donghyuck a little too tight, afraid that letting go and going into his own home meant that the other boy wouldn’t be there when he woke up.
The word SOLD is written bright and red across the sign.
Written off .
Surely they wouldn’t.
Surely they would give Mark a chance to say goodbye.
Surely they -
His knocks against the door desperate for Donghyuck to open the door, or his fake parents, or-
There’s a girl that opens the door.
A girl around Mark’s age, a stranger, standing in the same entryway that used to be cluttered with Donghyuck’s family’s shoes and that awful rug he threw up on once after soccer practice, except now that entryway is filled with boxes and strangers.
And - “Hi, I’m Karina, you must be our neighbor? Mark, right? I’ve heard so much are you.”