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D-76
Donghyuck mastered the art of lying ages ago.
He taught himself how to hold an eye contact long enough to come off as convincing, how to speak lies like they’re the truth, and how to draw people into his story and make them believe.
He’s done it thousands of times before—this is nothing. Some are even worse.
“It was only my family. They were criminals; it’s in their blood.” The lie tastes sweet on Donghyuck's tongue, like those strawberry-flavored lollipops his mom would give to him back then.
The police officer eyes Donghyuck, doubtful and seemingly unconvinced, but nods nonetheless after a moment. “And it’s not in your blood?”
Donghyuck laughs inwardly. It is, it is—the same blood runs in his veins, the greedy red color pumping throughout his body.
But this is what he says: “No, sir. I only got involved with the wrong person. It was my biggest mistake.”
He pauses for a moment, counts one two three, then adds softly: “And if I were to be released, I would like to—”
Here we go.
(Deep breaths, wandering eyes, wobbly voice—Donghyuck also mastered the art of crying.)
Donghyuck exhales heavily as a futile attempt to keep his tears at bay. “I—I would like to live a simple life. Get a job, meet new people, take morning walks every weekend, and just, you know, pay my bills.”
It takes a while.
A few more minutes of endless discussions. But the officer nods in the end with a heavy sigh, and Donghyuck doesn’t taste the lie on his lips anymore—but the kiss of freedom.
Donghyuck almost forgets how elating it is to steal.
Almost five years of nothing in the walls of prison—he deserves to celebrate, even if the bitterness from before still burns him.
Donghyuck has a lot of things he wants to do, but for now—
For now, Donghyuck smiles at the camera of the android he’s stolen, his lips tainted with pink lipstick from his casual trip to Bergdorf Goodman just an hour ago.
Then he hits send.
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Mark 13:28
hello to you too :)
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D-68
It’s raining and Mark is driving.
Five years ago, Donghyuck would have freaked out. Mark is clumsy and Donghyuck is used to never trusting him behind the wheels—but it’s different now.
Now, Mark Lee is confident and a little cocky, and is even daring to try out a motorbike.
Donghyuck missed a lot of things while he was away but Mark fills him up. He talks as he drives, grinning and goofy, about any anecdotes that come to his mind.
And Donghyuck laughs. The kind of laugh that makes him fuzzy in the insides and makes him warm all over. The kind of laugh that only Mark can bring out from him.
Mark has always been a steady presence in Donghyuck’s life, like the lighthouse by the ocean—unmoving, always guiding, always reminding him his way back. And Mark is familiar, like an old song that Donghyuck discovers again in his playlist: still the same lyrics and tunes, except Donghyuck listens to it now with a changed heart and in a new perspective.
Remembering something, Donghyuck grins as he reaches out for the paper bag on the floorboard. “I have something for you, by the way.”
Mark looks at him curiously, parking the car first outside of his place, before he takes the bag from Donghyuck.
He peeks first through the space, then laughs. “Fucking Dior. Really, Donghyuck?” he asks, incredulous, once he takes the gift out. “Is this something that you stole?”
Donghyuck huffs. “You’ve never had a problem with me giving you stolen perfumes before.”
“That’s before, baby.”
Rolling his eyes, Donghyuck retorts, “Well if you have a problem with stealing, then you won’t like the rest of this conversation.”
Once he says it, Mark’s grin fades. He sets the perfume back on the bag with a serious look. “What is it this time, Donghyuck?”
“Jewels,” Donghyuck says, devilish and proud. “Jewels locked somewhere 50 feet underground.”
Recognition flashes over Mark’s face. Mark knows. He should know.
“Remember what I said to you before, Mark Lee?”
And of course, Mark remembers.
★
Donghyuck has known Mark since they were thirteen after, due to unfortunate circumstances, Mark’s sketch of a necklace lands on Donghyuck’s hands after class.
“Is this the Toussaint?” Donghyuck says in awe, fingers skimming over the rough surface.
Mark’s eyes are wide as he blushes, shy. “Yeah.”
Donghyuck turns to him with a devilish smile. “You want it for your own? Pretty boys want pretty necklaces, huh.”
Mark blushes even harder and tries to get a hold of his sketch. But Donghyuck moves it away quickly with a laugh. “Maybe you can have it one day.”
“If only?”
Donghyuck smirks. Mark is smart. Always has been. “If only you’d like to be friends. Partners. We both can steal it someday.”
Maybe Mark thinks thirteen-year-old Donghyuck is bluffing—pretty promises from pretty boys—but he isn’t. He’s a Lee and they stay true to their words, no matter how hard it gets.
“Yeah, sure. Partners.”
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Met Gala takes place every year in New York.
It’s the biggest party in the world with invitations exclusive only for big names in the industry. And every year, they always get a celebrity to host.
“This year’s host is Kim Yerim,” Donghyuck says over his breakfast. “You know her, right? She’s an A-list actress and model.”
Mark is not one to keep up with the trends so when he shakes his head, Donghyuck only rolls his eyes with a huff.
“But she’s not our mark, Mark.” Donghyuck giggles. “It’s the necklace that she’ll wear at the event, of course.”
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D-47
It’s Kim Doyoung whom Donghyuck and Mark managed to rope into their plan first. A renowned fashion designer in the 90s who’s now swimming in debt, and who is apparently Yerim’s favorite too.
Doyoung is hesitant at first but he knows he needs the money. That’s why he ends up following everything Donghyuck makes him do, like going on a lunch with Kim Yerim herself to accept her invitation of dressing her up for the Gala.
Then, there’s Renjun and Chenle who are good friends of Donghyuck. Renjun is well-acquainted with diamonds and jewels since he was a child, while Chenle is a fence who was already planning to leave for Italy until Donghyuck forces him to stay for a while to join them.
And then the two interesting recruits whom Mark scooped off somewhere: Yangyang—a street hustler and a pickpocket who almost stole Donghyuck’s watch in their first meeting—and the youngest, Jisung—a genius and an elusive hacker who doesn’t talk about anything except for the heist.
“Almost $17 million in each of your bank accounts less than seven weeks from now,” Donghyuck starts as he presses the button for the next slide.
He hears everyone gasp and whistle at the amount.
Donghyuck turns to Mark with a grin as he walks towards the back of the room. “In less than seven weeks, the Met Gala will take place and we are going to rob it. Not the ball itself but the set of diamonds to be worn by Kim Yerim, whom Doyoung will be dressing.”
Renjun whips his head to Donghyuck’s direction. “The fucking Toussaint?”
“Exactly,” Donghyuck says proudly. “Once Yerim is in the party, we can get the necklace out of Cartier’s vault. Jisung will hack the Met security system, and we’ll infiltrate the ball.”
Everyone looks amazed at the proposition, eyes wide in excitement.
Donghyuck walks back to the front with a smirk. “So go home, prepare, and get your affairs done because tomorrow we’ll begin pulling this off.”
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D-23
It’s 2AM in the morning and Donghyuck is on the verge of sleeping when Mark stops the ministrations in his hair and speaks into the quiet night.
“Hyuck.”
Donghyuck grumbles, the familiar scent of detergent engulfs his senses as he buries his nose to Mark’s hoodie. “Let me sleep, Mark.”
Mark simply laughs, ignoring his complaint. His chest vibrates at the action, and Donghyuck smiles to himself a little.
But Mark stays quiet after though, and resumes running his fingers through the strands of Donghyuck’s hair with a low hum. He’s probably thinking about something again. Mark always thinks deeply.
When another minute passes by in silence, Donghyuck props himself up, turning around to face Mark who’s looking at him.
With a raised brow, Donghyuck breaks the silence. “What? Spit it out.”
Mark’s hands travel on his back, skimming over the expanse of Donghyuck’s shirt. He sighs. “Do you still think about Jaemin and Jeno?”
Donghyuck freezes.
It's not everyday someone talks to him about them, about what happened years ago.
“Should I? They are nothing to me,” he croaks out, eyes darting everywhere around the room but Mark.
“I know, Hyuck.” Mark's voice is smooth and comforting amidst the vivid memories in Donghyuck’s mind. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bringing them up.”
Donghyuck nods, slow and solemn, before Mark pulls him back to his chest for a hug.
“Almost five years,” Donghyuck whispers. “We promised we won't let each other down. But then—”
Donghyuck breathes. Mark tightens his arms around him.
“I’ve forgiven them but I never forget, Mark.”
★
It has always been MarkandDonghyuck, DonghyuckandMark.
But at some point in time, it was also Donghyuck and Jeno and Jaemin—partners in crime, friends who bonded over the same thing: the thrill of stealing.
Always dreaming of the same things, always planning the best heists and frauds. Always.
(Could have been always.)
But also at some point, it became Donghyuck. Just Donghyuck—no Jeno, no Jaemin. No Mark.
(At twenty, Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jaemin got caught. And the promise of not letting each other down had been forgotten.
Donghyuck kept his mouth shut. They didn’t.
Donghyuck spent the last five years stuck in stagnation. They didn’t.)
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D-11
Renjun hands Donghyuck a glass of wine before plopping down on the couch with a smirk.
“So… when are you going to tell Mark?”
Donghyuck raises a brow, confused. “Tell Mark about what?”
“That you’re in love with him.”
Donghyuck almost jumps off his seat just to punch Renjun. Almost.
He settles for a glare instead before he nervously looks around the room to check if anyone, especially Mark, is around.
“What the fuck, Renjun.”
Renjun shrugs, nonchalant. “Hyuck. Both of you have been on this shit for years now; one of you has to make a move some day.”
“Yeah, and that’s not me obviously.”
Rolling his eyes, Renjun snickers. “And let Mark get away from you again?”
Donghyuck doesn’t say anything because he knows Renjun is most of the time right.
“You two weren’t together for almost five years. Don’t you think it’s time to make up for the time you’ve lost?”
Donghyuck doesn’t meet his eyes and only takes a sip of his wine in response.
★
Donghyuck is sixteen when he realizes he’s in love with Mark Lee.
They’re both in the cramped and messy room of Mark, lying side by side with nothing but an inch of space between them.
Mark’s voice is excited and warm as he talks about the guitar he’s been saving up for months now, and about the movies they should watch soon.
Donghyuck would love to listen. But, no matter how hard he tries, nothing registers in his mind.
Especially when Mark’s fingers are intertwined with his, fitting perfectly on the crevices of his own.
They always do this but today—it’s different.
When Donghyuck saw Mark this morning, all bed hair and sleepy, he felt something new in the pit of his stomach. Strange yet so mellow.
And this time, when Donghyuck sneaks a glance from Mark, it’s like he’s looking in a new angle. Like something has shifted.
Donghyuck knows.
Smiling to himself, Donghyuck tucks the secret somewhere in his heart and squeezes Mark’s hand—once, twice, three times.
He feels Mark look at him with a smile, like he also knows.
(He doesn’t.)
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D-Day
As her fashion designer, Doyoung goes with Yerim and her date, Joy to the Gala.
He’s nervous, a little jumpy at times, but no one bats him an eye. Doyoung is only the man behind the dress, not the one in the dress.
And from afar, Chenle who’s one of the heads for the event, subtly eyes the necklace as he orders around different waiters.
Yangyang, who’s posed as a waiter, passes by the table where Doyoung and Yerim are seated, and his eyes fix subtly on the lock of the Toussaint from behind.
In the kitchens, Mark purports to be a nutritionist whom Chenle had recommended for the event, while Renjun is a dishwasher.
And unbeknownst to others, Renjun hides his tools in the restroom—in the cabinet by the toilet, sealed and locked.
Jisung is inside of their van, monitoring the CCTVs he has hacked into weeks ago. He’s whispering to his earpiece as he watches the scene unfolding before his eyes.
Donghyuck, on the other hand, hides behind the shadows somewhere at the party.
-
Doyoung warily eyes Yerim who’s gulping down the soup served a while ago.
She must have felt his gaze on her because she stops halfway through her fifth scoop and turns to Doyoung with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry; I’ve never eaten anything these past few days for the Gala.”
Doyoung offers a small smile in return. Yerim turns to the other guests at the table. “Am I being rude?”
They smile and shake their heads.
Yerim laughs and resumes her meal. Doyoung has to swallow the bile in his throat.
Yerim is almost on her third story for the night when she becomes quiet for a moment. She looks uneasy and pale, her cheeks losing their natural pink color.
Joy moves closer to her in concern. “Yerim, are you okay?”
Yerim shushes her concern and wipes away the small droplets of tears by her eyes. “I’m okay. I’m fine, just feeling—hot.”
Doyoung feels his chest bursting with nervousness.
After Yerim convinces everyone at the table that she is okay, she goes back to her talk, trying to be as joyful as she can. But the discomfort is still obvious by the way she grips the tissues in her hands.
And for the second time, Yerim pauses. This time, she looks like she’s about to puke.
And when Yerim stands up from her seat, with her hands on her mouth as she runs to the restroom, Doyoung knows it has started.
(The rest of it will go on like this:
Yangyang will unlock the necklace from Yerim’s neck as she vomits into the bowl, will slip it into the tray of a waiter who had been tasked by Chenle to go to the kitchens and who would also almost bump into Donghyuck standing by the blind spot outside of the restroom.
The waiter will unknowingly deliver the necklace to Renjun, who will retrieve the necklace, and proceed to the small restroom in the kitchens to dismantle the Toussaint for everyone in the team.
No one will suspect them. No one will get caught.
Donghyuck’s plan will succeed.
And they will go out of that party with diamonds pinned to their suits, or tucked in their pockets like their midnight secrets.)
-
Donghyuck, with his pink silk-satin tuxedo, will find Mark outside of the Gala after he’ll bump into Jaehyun and slip a piece of the Toussaint in his suit.
Jung Jaehyun, who is Jaemin’s step brother.
(Another thing about Donghyuck: he’s petty.)
-
The thrill from the party hasn’t left them yet, so Donghyuck and Mark decide to drink wine and laugh about the heist.
They’re both tipsy and red, but Donghyuck wishes nothing more than this. He’s with Mark and it’s perfect.
“You did it.” Mark smiles, rose-gold in the white light, and soft against Donghyuck’s skin.
Donghyuck doesn’t stop himself—he kisses Mark’s cheek which turns into a heavy shade of pink.
“We did it.”
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unknown 13:28
next time you should train your comrades how to act. they’re quite shitty at it
haha don’t worry about jaehyun. i’ll handle it.
thank you again <3
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Contrary to Renjun’s belief, Donghyuck and Mark don’t get together right after the Gala.
Donghyuck might have kissed Mark’s cheek at 4AM, tipsy and so in love, however that doesn’t mean they’re official. No one brings it up because Donghyuck is Donghyuck and Mark sees him as nothing but his best friend.
So when Mark takes out his bike for a ride around Los Angeles, Donghyuck has no right to force him to stay. Donghyuck doesn’t have anything in him to make him stay. He only hugs Mark Lee and bids him goodbye—and ignores the desire to say the words right then and there.
I’m in love with you.
29 Days since D-Day
Donghyuck awakens to a voicemail on his phone.
It wouldn’t be nerve-wracking if only it’s not from Mark.
And if only it doesn’t go like this:
“Hyuck, I really don’t know what I’m doing but let me just—let me get this out, okay? Before I chicken out once again.” Mark chuckles. “Lee Donghyuck, I’m in love with you.”
Donghyuck feels like he’s going to burst.
“I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen, when you saw my sketch of the Toussaint. The funniest thing was that I never knew it was the Toussaint—it was just my own drawing. But then you got so excited and I didn’t have the heart to say that no, I don’t fucking know anything about the Toussaint. But I did know back then that you are amazing and the smartest.
“I’m in love with you, Hyuck. Always have been.” Mark laughs again, croaky and nervous. “I’m coming back next week. Let’s see each other then. I love you.”
It ends and Donghyuck laughs, his vision becoming blurry with tears.