Archive of Our Own ^beta

Donghyuck wakes up to a pounding headache and the taste of bile in his throat. Clear sign of a hangover.

He unsticks himself from the pillow and groans at the morning ray, spilling inside, directly hitting the top of his lids. He puts a hand to cover his eyes, face screwing at how his head seems to be splitting into geolocation formations. Waves of nausea trail after, adding to his misery.

Last night's aftermath is exceptionally horrid. The room swirls, Donghyuck blinks several times before it becomes stationary again. Traces from the previous night are like short sequences from a defective filming machine, cracking, blurry, and in tattered colors. It takes time for his hangover mind to register his whereabouts.

A big realization breaks him when it does. This isn't his room (most likely Yukhei's spare ones) and his torso is most definitely bare underneath the duvet.

Donghyuck stares at his t-shirt that's sprawled on the floor, far–flung from where he lies. He runs his hand over his lower body and he finds his jeans still attached to his legs. A sense of relief douses over him like a bucket of warm water, although he's not sure if it's supposed to comfort him because there's a back that faces him when he looks over to the right side of the bed.

Donghyuck's fucked because this part has completely perished from his brain, he can't remember, even if he tries. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, seeing it pinged with message after message, one from an equally hungover Yangyang and three from an overly worried Renjun, but none gives a clue about the boy sleeping on his side.

The stranger stirs and Donghyuck freezes. He hears him mumble, unclear utterances under his breath, Donghyuck plans to pretend to close his eyes in case the boy is summoned from his sleep.

For a moment, Donghyuck thinks that he's woken up until the gibberish comes to a pause, long enough to nearly convince him that boy has fallen back to sleep. But then it starts again, continuing and falling into a pattern that comes into Donghyuck's logic as sleep–talking.

Worry seeps away from his chest. He doesn't think he'll have the bravado to face the stranger sober.

Donghyuck seizes the opportunity to escape. He swings his bare feet to the floor cautiously, holding his throbbing head in one hand as he tips toes around the room and grabs his t-shirt. Hastily, he puts it on and steps into his sneakers, cautiously twisting the door handle afterward and finally slinking out of the room.

Resting his back against the door, Donghyuck releases a breath he's been unconsciously holding. He doesn't dare to look back.

The first time Donghyuck meets Mark is when he's late to a sports match he barely has interest in.

Donghyuck hasn't gotten the faintest idea about hockey, but he swears being late is not intentional. He had mistakenly read the text Yangyang sent as game starts at two-thirty, not three-thirty. In his defense, Donghyuck does not lack literature at all. He deems himself an excellent reader. It's just that he was busy sucking up to the fact that he lost a silly bet to Yangyang a week ago.

Donghyuck is tenacious, would've stood his ground and tried to stir his way out of the situation if it were anyone else. No one ever dares to scold Donghyuck, he's usually the one doing the scolding, but Yangyang? The boy is akin to him to an alarming extent, there's just no way they won't fight tooth and nail over the pettiest things.

Having to face Yangyang's childish nature has its qualms and Donghyuck would rather not spend a week enduring a silent treatment. Therefore, he spent the entire afternoon skimming through books that are essential to their history presentation.

He doesn't get why there's so much into world history. He's spent three years trying to wrap his head around it but there is just no way he could make out the details of every havoc that went down over the last millennia. He has no superb brain, unlike his classmate Jeno, a walking-talking-encyclopedia. Donghyuck can't comprehend him when it comes to his academic drive.

It would've been great if he's paired with Jeno for the presentation instead. But love got in the way and Jeno had already set his eyes on Jaemin before Donghyuck could even turn to him (and Jeno was sitting right beside him). And he could be a dick — which he had been once or twice — knowing Jeno isn't the type to easily refuse, but he would rather not hear about Jeno's pitiful crush on the theatre leader and decided to partner with Yangyang, who had his head tucked between his arms, snoring the whole time.

Donghyuck grunts as he adds another book to the stack on his hand. That's the fifth one. At this point, his arms will fall out if he were to carry any more weight. Donghyuck has always been more of a dancer than a lifter anyway. He holds his breath and pleads mercy for his arms before continuing his steps.

Much to his dismay, the main study desks are as occupied as the computer section. Donghyuck allows as it's the beginning of a semester, works are bound to escalate by now. Thankfully, not long after, he manages to spot a free desk by the tall window where the sunlight seeps in and shades over the ebony material.

Donghyuck grins in triumph, it's the perfect spot, enough to cope with more than a few hours.

And so time ticks as he flicks page after page, book after book, noting down points on his phone because it's efficient and he's not Renjun — his other classmate — who handwrites notes and doodles all over them like a sixth-grader Picasso.

Yangyang's contact pops up as he's in the middle of typing an unfinished paragraph, catching him off guard. Donghyuck whispers profanities at his screen, he's not keen on being interrupted but proceeds to take the call.

"What?" Donghyuck flatly asks.

"Where are you?" Yangyang half shouts on the line. Donghyuck distances his phone from his ear and winces, he isn't about to damage his hearing.

"Look," he clicks his tongue, sarcasm on the tip of it. "If you're calling to make sure whether I'm taking responsibility for losing the bet, the answer is yes, I very much am, thanks."

There's a pause. Donghyuck makes out the vague rowdiness in the background.

"What? Are you still at the library?"

Donghyuck resists the urge to raise his voice, "Would you rather have me at the burger place down the street?"

"Idiot!" Yangyang exclaims. "The game is starting, what are you doing?"

Donghyuck squints, musing because really, he has no clue about what game Yangyang is talking about. He hears Yangyang sigh, "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Didn't slip my mind in the first place," Donghyuck shrugs.

"Hockey. The one I told you about this morning, and texted this afternoon," the emphasis on hockey makes Donghyuck think that Yangyang is actually upset.

Now that he's giving it a harder thought, Donghyuck knows how precious hockey means to his best friend. Yangyang was the school's star forward throughout their second year until he tore his AC joint last season. Type III: completely disrupts his AC ligaments and coracoclavicular ligaments, leading to separation of his clavicle from the end of his shoulder blade. It wasn't his first AC joint injury, but it surely was his worst.

Yangyang had to undergo surgery and is refrained from playing his entire senior year. The team mourned the loss of their star player, so did the whole school, he thinks. And Donghyuck mourned too. But unlike everyone else, he mourned with Yangyang, in his best friend's room, hugging him tightly as he cried on Donghyuck's shoulder.

That was three months ago. Today the school's hockey team plays its first game without Yangyang and yeah, now that he thinks hard enough, he did agree on coming to see the game this morning. Yangyang has the right to be upset.

Donghyuck sucks in a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not saving you a seat."

"Fuck, I'll be there in five minutes."

"Three."

"Fine." Donghyuck groans and ends the line.

He strides faster than a bolt. God knows Donghyuck is His most competitive creation, he won't give any person the light of day if they happen to attain the seat before he does. 

Donghyuck grabs the books and ambles his way out between the shelves, mumbling strained excuse me's as he swiftly dodges the people passing by. Donghyuck doesn't make it out without the librarian's scolding, but he's fast, he'll make it in time.

Pride almost fulfills him when he arrives at the rink and sees Yangyang behind the net, in the first row, with Renjun beside him and a sweet empty spot on his right. Keyword: almost. Multiple feet lining the seat area had to be the enemy and come in contact with his own, tipping him a little out of balance and sending the thickest book from his grip along with it.

Donghyuck is born with spectacular reflexes, honed through years of dance training, and in spite of the fact that he's able to execute ten perfect tours en l'air — a turn in the air — he's certainly no Peter Parker.

On the bright side, Donghyuck thinks he's found his Peter Parker. It takes a minute to realize the sound he's waiting to hear, the thud of buckram against the floor, doesn't rattle throughout the bleachers.

When Donghyuck opens his eyes, he sees History of the World Map by Map handed over to him. His jaw invisibly slacks as he slowly picks up his gaze.

It's not like Donghyuck hasn't seen multiple teenagers in hockey jerseys, in fact, he's seen too many times, but the stranger appeals to his eyes. He likes his dirty blond hair, the number '2' printed in stroke orange font on his arms, and the charming tug at one corner of his lips. He's handsome, Donghyuck decides.

"Careful," the stranger says. Donghyuck thinks he likes his voice too. The texture: deep, cushy, slippery and swirling around him — attractive.

"Thanks," Donghyuck mumbles distractedly then takes the book.

The boy's mouth forms into a curve, a full smile, twitching his eyebrow while nodding at Donghyuck. It's uncanny, he doesn't know why he isn't able to put a name to the face.

The school isn't that big. Students pretty much vary but not to the pitch where Donghyuck would forget a pretty face when he sees one. Above all, he's on the hockey team. Donghyuck may not have the strongest knowledge about the sport but he knows everyone in it. He's spent two years attending Yangyang's matches, sometimes even practices, and somehow he doesn't recall ever seeing the stranger.

It's possible that the stranger is a first-year student, even though Donghyuck is strongly unconvinced by how mature he looks. Kids grow a lot faster these days, he supposes.

Donghyuck snaps out of his trance, he's late for Pete's sake.

Donghyuck assumes the stranger is about to pass by when he doesn't move a muscle. Donghyuck shifts on his heels, dithering about what to do next.

It's weird, unfamiliar, the way the stranger stares at him, and it makes Donghyuck think. Though more often than not, Donghyuck isn't one to overthink, he tends to be the insouciant type.

Okay, well maybe he does care a little when it comes to pretty boys.

"Newbie!"

The blond's head spins to where Jeno stands in the rink, hair damp and dusting over his lashes. Donghyuck's sure Jeno would've swept Jaemin off his feet if he hasn’t already.

"Get in, game's about to start!" Jeno shouts over the roaring crowd, a cue for him to leave. Donghyuck sees him hesitate, mouth slacked like he has a lot to say. But he still turns his back and Donghyuck watches as he haphazardly runs into the rink, hair bouncing on his neck.

Jeno notices his presence and gives him a wave, it brings Donghyuck back to his ground. He smiles at Jeno and mouths go kick ass which the latter replies with a determined nod. Satisfied, he tears his eyes away from the rink and jogs to claim the seat beside Yangyang and Renjun. Yangyang welcomes him with a smack on his head and Renjun gleams warmly at his presence, Donghyuck fumbles out apologies to his friends and forgets the uncanny encounter he had with the stranger.

Donghyuck slings his gym bag over his shoulder, bathed in sweat. Finding the building almost completely uninhabited when he exits the practice room has never been out of the ordinary. Donghyuck always, if not most of the time, stays behind his crew members and leaves not until the sky has darkened. People say he’s driven, Yangyang says it’s a habit, Donghyuck in all truth admits that it’s a getaway.

He doesn’t bother to correct either of them.

He sends Yangyang a text to let him know that he’s heading back then throws a purple crewneck over his head, hiding his dank sleeveless top underneath. 

Donghyuck makes his way towards the lobby, arms swinging on his sides, steps sluggish, untroubled by the eerie silence and lack of lights. If somehow ghosts decide to pop before him, they’d have to think twice because Donghyuck can be way scary after hours of dancing, when he's sore and bruised to his temper. Ask his friends about it, they’ll confirm.

As he gets to the lobby, his peripheral vision catches Mr. Wang securing the area, holding a flashlight in one hand and a burger in the other. His wrinkled eyes curve into kind crescents as Donghyuck slows his strut even more and makes his presence known, politely bowing and greeting the elder man.

“Oh, Donghyuck,” Mr. Wang smiles expectantly at him and glances at the clock on the wall. “Still keeping up with the habit, I see. I was hoping you’d drop it on your last year.”

Mr. Wang is second to Yangyang who thinks of it as a habit. Donghyuck rubs the back of his sore neck and dips his head, “Sorry for the trouble Mr. Wang, I locked the practice room if that helps a little.”

The elder man shakes his head, “Thank you, but no need to apologize, you know I’m only concerned.”

The lines on his face contort into a sad smile, he knows. The senior security has been so kind that Donghyuck finds himself worrying about his health and family’s well-being too, sometimes. The man does a lot of work even at this late age. Donghyuck teases him about retiring from time to time, but he’d often laugh and say he’d retire after Donghyuck quits this unhealthy routine. Donghyuck then would excuse himself, not knowing what to say.

“You’ve been doing this for a whole year now,” Mr. Wang’s voice isn’t coated with rebuke, always soft and considerate, but reprimanding at the same time. 

Donghyuck takes the easy road and makes a witty remark, “And you’ve been working late for more than a couple of decades now. ” 

Mr. Wang doesn’t hold back a snort. However, the gaze he holds is very doting, “Go get going, you’re extremely tired I can see it.”

“No, I’m all good. I love dancing, it doesn’t take a toll on me.” Donghyuck protests, but the tiredness and paleness prominent in his features couldn’t fool the elder man.

“Alright, let’s say it doesn’t,” Mr. Wang goes along with it. “I still look better on my late shifts than you do right now.”

Donghyuck laughs softly at the jest. He accepts that he looks a wreck after pushing his body to its limit.

“Go home and get some rest son, you need it.” Mr. Wang tells again.

The ache digs into the muscle of his thighs and the bottom of his feet, he winces inwardly, maybe he should really listen, “I will. Take care too, Mr. Wang.”

Mr. Wang gleams warmly, satisfied with the option Donghyuck settles for. The senior security pats his shoulder with the head of the flashlight before walking in the other direction. Donghyuck lowers his head smiling and goes in the opposite direction, heading towards the mouth of the lobby.

It's murky, the lobby. Illuminated with nothing but a soft and welcoming light at the center as if it were enough as a guide in the dark. Stepping out of it, the chilly air hits his face, stunning him as it creeps through the cotton of his crewneck and into his skin. He shivers amid the absence of light. 

The throb in his lower body pulsates, the aches and pains shoot all over the place in his vessel, Donghyuck tries to focus on that. He focuses on the physical pain from acing a routine over innumerable counts to make him feel less shitty about himself. Donghyuck bites his lip at the burning sensation as he wills his legs forward. It works though, both the walking and the feeling less shitty, so it’s okay. 

The second time Donghyuck meets Mark is when he tries to draw the line between sober and tipsy.

Wong Yukhei's parties are always absolute pandemonium. If Donghyuck could describe two hundred vodka–watermelon–punch–drunk students, he'd boldly compare them to a pack of cavernous animals — wild, that is. Donghyuck is confident because he's had to bring Yangyang home whenever he blackouts from Yukhei's parties, or had Jeno drive them when they're both wasted. At very rare times, Donghyuck ended up like he did a few weeks ago.

He shudders at the memory of waking up next to a stranger. Thus, he doesn't feel like drinking tonight.

The peach-colored liquid in his plastic cup isn't even near half–empty. He presses his mouth on the rim of the cup, sips then wrinkles his nose. It's diabolical — Yukhei is — the drink is pure vodka and artificial food coloring. No wonder Renjun is gone after the third cup. And as for Yangyang, the loud crash from upstairs might be the sign that he's alive and shit-faced.

He's grateful Chenle drags him into his circle and entertains him with conversations. Jisung is talking animatedly about the last hockey game, boasting how his defense had saved the team by two points. Jisung's teammate, Seungmin has an arm slung over his shoulder, eyes twinkling in adoration as he smiles approvingly at the youngest. Hyunjin and a tipsy Minjeong look deeply immersed, Donghyuck guesses Minjeong is only paying attention to count the paw prints on Jisung's shirt. Head of the student council, Lee Chaeryeong, is surprisingly present and showing interest too. Donghyuck has a hunch his fellow dancer is the reason behind it.

Speaking of his fellow dancer, Donghyuck feels an elbow against his ribs, "Not having fun?"

He gives Ryujin a sidelong glance then curls his lips devilishly, "Brought a girl?"

Ryujin brings her cup to her mouth, looking everywhere but Donghyuck, "Don't know what you're talking about."

Donghyuck wiggles his eyebrows at Ryujin while motioning his chin towards Chaeryeong. His crewmate glares at him and Donghyuck raises his hands in surrender before he faces Ryujin's attack on his shins, "I'm just saying, I haven't seen Lee Chaeryeong in a party since sophomore year."

"To be fair, Lee Chaeryeong doesn't really see me until this year." Ryujin rolls her eyes.

"False," Donghyuck dismisses, shifting on his feet to face Ryujin. "She does see you, she just chose not to acknowledge you."

Ryujin snickers then elbows Donghyuck's ribs again, this time with force. Donghyuck winces at the pain in his abdomen and Ryujin laughs, tilting her head backwards, "Still can't take a hit I see..."

Donghyuck pouts, "You're mean."

"No but you're right," she says. "It took Chaeryeong a year to open up to me."

"I know," Donghyuck nods at Ryujin's remark and scoffs. "You spent last year talking my ears off, Chaeryeong this, Chaeryeong that. You were miserable, really. I even let you borrow my jacket that one time just so you could give it to Chaeryeong."

"It was urgent."

"It was raining," Donghyuck flatly says. "And she had an umbrella."

"It was sweet, it got her to like me!”

"Your point?” Donghyuck asks monotonously. “That was like the first month you courted her. ”

Ryujin shrugs then breaks into a stupid, lovestruck, smile, "Doesn’t matter. Chaeryeong likes me now."

"God, she turned you soft," Donghyuck gapes, more in disrelish rather than amusement. "Am I supposed to get used to this then?"

Ryujin gives a firm nod.

"I'll never succumb to the dating culture, people are wicked. It’s all making out and binging seven seasons of How I Met Your Mother until you get your heart broken.” Donghyuck says it in a tone that shows playful aggression, a snarky comment because that’s what he’s known for. There’s a personal touch that tinges his insides bitter, he wouldn’t dare to let it show.

Ryujin snorts and pats his back, "You should try it sometime Hyuck. Believe me, the things that you said aren't half as bad once you meet the right person."

Donghyuck takes his second sip for the night, "Yeah, right," he mutters.

The music changes, from vigorous EDM to an electronic pop synth sound. The beat is extremely catchy, it doesn't surprise Donghyuck when the circle starts to lose its quantity and relocates to the dance floor, Chenle and Jisung wouldn't leave him alone with it for a solid ten minutes.

Unbeknownst to his friends, Donghyuck doesn't like dancing while sober. Sure, he's danced most of his life, had his footprints marked on floors, performed and carried stages with grace and delicacy, and loved every second of it. But not at parties. Not to music he doesn't listen to. Not to sweat from the heat that comes from stuffiness other than the complexity of one's choreography. That's part of the reason why he has to swill enough alcohol in his system before he hits the dance floor.

So when Donghyuck refuses, by any means, he stays true to his principles. The duo gives up when their favorite song plays, Donghyuck wishes them a fun time. Eventually, he is back to being alone, swirling the drink in his hand as he witnesses the crowd sway to the music.

It is then, in the sea of people, that Donghyuck catches familiar brown eyes. They constrict under the dark blue light.

What dazes him most is those eyes are expectant, delighted like they have been searching for him the entire night. He cusses in his head for sounding utterly asinine but how could he not think in a way that is chimerical when the stranger looks like that.

The dim lights don't do him justice, but the stranger looks striking in the dark, the shape of his face half illuminated and half-lit. He looks devastatingly good even far across the room. The stranger tilts his chin and holds his gaze, the scheme makes Donghyuck feel like he's about to suck in his breath.

He looks away from him before that could happen though, strutting through a throng of drunk students, trying to seek a way out. He doesn't get very far as an arm wraps his waist and lugs him, plowing into a firm build.

Donghyuck takes a step back and narrows his eyesight. His heart thumps madly in his chest, coming face to face with the stranger's pearly smile is truly something else. The placement of his hand on top of Donghyuck's hip bone makes him stutter in his ribcage.

"Hi," floats to his ear. Donghyuck gets what everyone's been talking about now. Talk of the hallway: a name that is somehow a blur to him, an exchange student from Vancouver, gorgeous, and rumored to be Yangyang's replacement. He has yet to hear his best friend's opinion about it.

Donghyuck doesn't exactly know what keeping the curve of his lips set in a straight line says about his expression, but all he could muster is a stiff, "Hello."

"Leaving already?" He questions, casual at most. As Donghyuck pays more attention to his tone, there's a vague disappointment in it.

"Um, not really, I was—"

"Dance with me," the blond cuts him off, tone alluring and vacuuming Donghyuck into a spiral.

Donghyuck should stay on his grounds. He doesn't sway easily and isn't one to bend his principles for anyone. Donghyuck, hardheaded and all, should stay on his grounds but why is he allowing the stranger to draw him to the dance floor?

"Relax," he rasps into Donghyuck's ear, a hand holding his back and the other circling his waist, settling on his side. "Listen to the music and follow the rhythm."

Donghyuck is dizzy. The handprints on his body are burning hot and excitement begins coursing in his veins, starting his jump. There's another reason why Donghyuck prefers dancing under the influence of alcohol: drunk? He's a good dancer. Sober? He would single-handedly murder the dance floor. Ate and left no crumbs, like they say these days. And you would be surprised by how many terrible dancers have tried to mingle into Donghyuck's business, it would merely bring the shame they didn't need that night.

Since the stranger is so dauntless to offer him to dance then it's only fair that Donghyuck lets him know what his partner is capable of. Brazenly, he rests his elbow on the stranger's shoulders and flashes an innocent smile, "I might surprise you."

There's a glint in his eyes, anticipation rising as he tilts his chin downward, "Well, I'm waiting."

"You'd have to keep up with me then."

"Whatever your pace babe."

At that moment, Donghyuck feels the vibration in his body, raising him up several levels all at once. He lets his instincts guide him through the melody, feels it flowing within him like water, then sets his pace. The stranger is so going to have to catch up. 

Donghyuck is no match when he's in his element. He's loose and unstoppable. His right foot guides him to slide back and the other one forward then smoothly shift to the sides, his torso and limbs following after. And now Donghyuck is in his nature, dancing gracefully and in perfect rhythm, movements fluid and sharp on the right beats. 

Donghyuck sees the stranger sweeping his eyes over his body — up and down — lips parted seeming wordless, focused on him like he’s the only person in this room. Donghyuck smirks, pride fueling him to the rim as it often does when another is left speechless by his talent. 

What happens to catching up?

Well, it takes a moment to adjust. An unpredictable timing to come behind Donghyuck, breathing hotly on his skin, dangerously hovering above his shoulder. The stranger doesn’t press their bodies but he follows Donghyuck through every single movement. Never leading a step but continuously adapting to Donghyuck’s pattern and never falling out of tune.

The stranger catches up and meets him in no way others had. 

Donghyuck steps back and the stranger steps back just in time. Donghyuck waves to his right and the stranger takes the opposite direction, eyes locking in a heated gaze. Donghyuck twirls — as immaculate as the ones he pulled during stages and lessons — and the stranger has his back, catching him right when he's supposed to. 

Donghyuck's blown away, right here, right now, with his hands clutched onto the blond's strong arms, nearly chest to chest, their labored breaths mingling. It takes quite a few to register, blinking the haze away, because holy shit he just danced sober and holy shit he may have found one hell of a partner.

The stranger moves one of his hands to the dancer's neck, "Wanna get out of here?"

Donghyuck stares at him, coaxing the mindless thumbing on the mole below his Adam's apple and the burning brush of the stranger's fingers over his lower back. Donghyuck is sent into a frenzy. He can't think about anything else even if he terribly wants to derail. The world melts as it is when the stranger's natural smile renders warmth and Donghyuck finds himself craving warmth like nothing else.

So, Donghyuck doesn't really think when his eyes flit over the hand on his neck and leans closer to it. He doesn't think when the stranger's thumb lightly brushes the skin behind his ear. What he does is smile, beads of sweat glazing his lips as he asks, "Where to?"

It astounds Donghyuck that he doesn't end up in a confined dorm. Amazes him that the stranger takes him to grab takeouts at Mcdonald's and guides him to a stroll around the dormitory. It's different being with the stranger, but Donghyuck doesn't allow his brain to over-analyze because so is being with other people he had dated.

So he settles with easy. Yeah, easy is the correct way to say it.

Easy because the stranger respects the unspoken boundaries Donghyuck has set. Easy because he values naturally-flowing dialogues, doesn't mind sharing one large serving of fries while talking about everything but themselves under the night sky. Easy because the stranger reads him and doesn't force Donghyuck to share his stories.

Easy.

Donghyuck doesn't need to put a facade because he understands.

"Mark Lee?" Yangyang arches one of his eyebrows, eyes bored on the screen of his laptop. "What about him?"

"I don't know, don't you know him?" Donghyuck rolls his shoulders back and forth, relaxing his taut muscles as he flicks the bottom corner of the page he's highlighted. "Apparently he transferred from Canada? To finish school in Korea, but moving in his last year? Who even does that? Oh, and people say they're putting him to fill your absence."

"To be my replacement," corrects Yangyang. "That's what they said."

He clicks his tongue and rotates his seat to face Donghyuck, one corner of his lips tugging sideways, "And a lot of people do that Hyuck, it's pretty normal."

"So you've heard..." Surprise tinges Donghyuck's visage.

Yangyang hums in acknowledgment, "I'm one of the subjects in that wildfire rumor, of course, I've heard."

"I just assumed you haven't because you haven't bent my ears about it yet," he says.

"Right," Yangyang's gaze fleets to the ceiling. The movement followed by a guilty scratch at the back of his head. "Sorry Hyuck, I wanted to but you know, I keep forgetting since..."

Donghyuck sees the shy, moony smile Yangyang's miserably hiding (not really) and bobs his head even though his playful nature tells him to tease Yangyang and pretend not to know. Yangyang's been regularly seeing a new guy, Ten if he recalls correctly. He's older, a second-year college student, and he's extremely pretty from what he's seen on Yangyang's Instagram story. Other details he pays no mind knowing Yangyang's romance always ends before it hits the two week mark.

"Number two always at your service," Donghyuck chastises, adding the most dramatic huff he let out at the end.

Yangyang blows a low strike on Donghyuck arms and pouts, "Oh please, I love you most."

"Ew, affection doesn't suit you," he feigns in disgust and shoves his best friend away.

"Yeah, you're right," Yangyang confirms, shuddering himself.

"So.. are you pissed?" asks Donghyuck, jumping back to the previous topic.

Yangyang leans back to rest his back on the chair, "Quite the contrary, actually."

"I overheard he was an ace in his previous team, so I kept my eyes on him at practice and he plays damn well I have to admit," Donghyuck's eyes widen at the absence of competitiveness and jealousy in his tone. Donghyuck thinks he doesn't recognize his own best friend for a second. "Not to the point where he's better than me," ah, there he is. "But he wouldn't be cut out for the team if he isn't talented. Mark is nice too. Too nice actually, I think he'll be good for the team."

"Too nice? That's a new vocabulary for people to you." Donghyuck snorts.

"I know, kicks me off my chair too," he chuckles. "Why did you ask? Do you know him?"

Donghyuck shakes his head and shrugs, "Just curious."

"Hey, Hyuck," Yangyang says with his hand on Donghyuck's shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows. "Do you like him or something?"

Donghyuck lets out a heinous laugh, swatting his hand across his thighs, the desk, then on Yangyang's back. Donghyuck clutches to his gut and shakes his head as he slowly swims out of the sudden hysterical reaction. Yangyang observes him with eyes wide, confusion written over his face in big, bold grotesque font.

"What's so funny?" Yangyang frowns, probably slightly scared.

The real question is: what's not funny about liking a stranger?

They say the third time’s a charmer. So, when Donghyuck meets Mark for the third time he expects good things. And Donghyuck believes, from the way Mark’s blinding smile greets him.

Weeks have passed since Yukhei's party and now they're entering the test-week territory. Honestly, it's silly, out of other times he could've come across Mark, Donghyuck doesn't understand why it has to be when he's tired and spent and messy. 

Pulling an all-nighter in the library isn't fun. The available couch isn't the most comfortable, resulting in none other than a stiff neck and sore back muscles. Jeno did wonders with his hands and massaged him ten minutes before the test started but he could really use at least an extra thirty minutes.

Donghyuck managed to pull through and passed the day, definitely without ease. Yangyang refraining him from going back to their place on his own yet pleaded him to wait until he finished checking up the hockey team's practice added the toil. But Donghyuck was too weary to lengthen the argument, so he dropped it and told Yangyang he'd wait in the small garden that branched off from the building's courtyard. Yangyang beamed and promised he'd pay for tonight's takeouts.

So, he waited for an hour, perched on a bench, arms tucked, lips curled into a pout, curls in disarray as he fought off sleep. Spoiler alert: Donghyuck doesn't succeed.

Right on time, he feels a tap on his shoulder. He opens his eyes to Mark bending over to his level, hockey jersey on display, wet blond hair covering his lustered lashes and adhering to his forehead with a knee-bending smile that would surely work on Donghyuck if he isn't sitting.

"Hey, feeling alright?" His voice breathy from practice but otherwise, Donghyuck could sense the sincerity dripping from it.

Donghyuck nods dumbly then frowns, "I'm fine. What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be at practice?"

"I ran," Mark reveals and Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

The blond chuckles, "It's break time, I had to run to make it to you."

Donghyuck ignores the flutter in his chest. Masking the fact that having a pretty boy to care for him doesn't quicken his pulse at all because to be truthful, he doesn't think that he should either. Donghyuck hasn't interacted with him since Yukhei's party, the odd appears not to link them up in a single class (he should've noticed since the semester began but it's not like he had known Mark then). Donghyuck doesn't look for him and barely meets his eyes in the hallway, too.

"And why did you...?" He trails off, waiting for an answer.

"Here," Mark says, pulling out a pack of heat patches from the trap between his forearm and bicep. The smile on his lips becomes slightly thinner. "Yangyang said it would help."

Yangyang, he nibbles on his bottom lip. Of course, that makes sense. If Donghyuck himself doesn't even look for him then there is no reason for Mark to look for him too.

"Didn't even come to give it himself," Donghyuck scoffs but takes the pack anyway. "Thank you, sorry for the trouble."

Mark shakes his head, "I'd be glad to help. Yangyang is held behind, coach asked him to monitor the practice, he told me to say he'll rush out when it ends though."

Donghyuck rolls his eyes good-naturedly then motions a wave off with his hand, "Tell him all is well as long as he's still buying dinner."

"Actually I—" Mark starts but then closes his mouth once Donghyuck gives him his full attention. He extracts a water bottle from the pocket of his pants and hands it over to Donghyuck. "I got water for you too."

Donghyuck tilts his head, "Did Yangyang also tell you to give me this?" He hopes the slight discouragement in his voice doesn't show.

"No I— bought it myself." He unfolds.

"O-Oh," Donghyuck stammers, gaze reverting to his thighs, his cheeks coated with redness. "Thanks. Again."

"Don't mention it, I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Nice. Too nice. Mark is naturally nice. So Donghyuck tries hard not to think about the grin that the blond probably has on his face right now, tries hard not to let his heart beats out of his ribcage.

It's unfair when he's actually trying, but Mark places a hand so gently on his shoulder and circulates warmth all over his body. It's unfair because Donghyuck suddenly doesn't know how to act.

"Are you sure you're really okay though? You look very pale,” Mark frowns, eyebrows connecting as he leans closer to carefully scan over Donghyuck's features.

Before it could last, Donghyuck swiftly pushes his hand off and chokes out a laugh, "Hate to break it to you but this is totally how I look every day."

"No it isn't," Mark scrunches his nose and Donghyuck doesn't really understand how one could look so adorable.

"And how do you know?" He challenges, knowing pretty much the blond's remark was only a guessing game.

Donghyuck smirks when he watches Mark scramble for answers, "We're in the same school, same year," he finally says after some time.

"We don't have classes together and we certainly have not crossed paths once at school." An easy blow. Donghyuck smirks, thinking he had won a mini argument.

Silence embraces them after, slightly longer than what you call a brief moment. Donghyuck thinks it's a sign of defeat but instead, he hears him laugh, deep and resonating in his bones. Mark stares at him with something pure in his eyes and it makes Donghyuck ponder when was the last time someone looked at him with such endearment.

"You know, things applied to you might not apply the same way to other people," Mark says, looking down at his shoes. He flicks his gaze back up to meet Donghyuck and smiles. "I do see you. Even if you don't see me."

It's dangerous. The line they're dancing on. It's getting fainter and fainter and Donghyuck doesn't know how much longer he can refrain himself from letting Mark in, doesn't know how much longer Mark is willing to beat around the bushes until he wants him.

Donghyuck can't promise that it won't happen. He can't promise things won't go wrong just because it feels right — it's his nature, his destiny. The guilt would eat him alive for years, but he wouldn't know how to circle a way around it.

"C'mon," Mark calls softly, his hand reaches down for Donghyuck's.

Donghyuck jolts at the contact, "Huh?"

"I'll take you home," he says, tugging Donghyuck to stand. "You live with Yangyang, right?"

If he were to speak technically, he'd say he lives under Yangyang not with. Nonetheless, it's still home.

Home is a studio apartment building not far from school. It takes five minutes by walk, two by sprint. Yangyang was an exchange student from Germany and Donghyuck was new to the city. In their first year, Yangyang condemned living alone in a space his parents rented while Donghyuck rode the train for three hours every day. They met, clicked, and made amends. Donghyuck has lived there ever since.

He had it hard in the beginning, often missing the sound of boiling pots and the taste of home-cooked pork kimchi stew feverish on his tongue. He never knew he'd come to a point where having ramyeon for the sixth time that week would make him bawl.

Yangyang was tougher, he hadn't relied on someone else's warmth since he was sent to Germany at the crude age of thirteen. Now he relies on Donghyuck for warmth and Donghyuck relies on Yangyang's odd combination of milk and cheese ramyeon with fried shallots sprinkled on top for spunk in his perpetual choice of food.

Donghyuck thinks about telling Mark all of this, just now, but stops himself. He shouldn't. It’s not what he does.

"Yeah but practice—"

"Practice doesn't end until another hour. I'll be fine, but you're not. I don't tolerate putting other things above health."

Donghyuck hates how he can't argue. Hates how Mark made himself clear. Instead of speaking with a tone that would spark annoyance, he said it in a way that palpably shows that he cares.

Donghyuck feels a tug on his heartstrings. He's left with no choice but to shove his grim thoughts to the farthest and darkest place in his head. Mark stands before him and he shines. He's brilliant golden, he glows brighter than any star, and he looks out for Donghyuck. Mark is acme yet he still chooses to lay out his hand to Donghyuck. It's a good enough reason for him to take Mark's hand (or maybe it's the lack of food in his system that has made him pliant today).

"Why do you do this?" Donghyuck asks once they step out of the building, hand still held by Mark's warm one. Despite the sentiment, Donghyuck doesn't let go, he fears that the cold will sting.

"Do what?" The question is returned, Donghyuck eyes him carefully as he does. He doesn't look the slightest bit weighed by the question, if anything he seems to be anticipating Donghyuck's elaboration about it.

Donghyuck may not know a lot about Mark, but one thing he knows is that he's very open when it comes to spilling thoughts and emotions.

He knows because he remembers when Mark shared his notion about his favorite form of art that night ("It takes vulnerability to connect with poetry, and it takes transparency to get in depth."). The comment says a lot about his personality, Donghyuck sees it now.

Mark glances at him as the gap of silence grows each minute. Caught in the middle of his thoughts, Donghyuck shifts his gaze around his surroundings, the sound of their shoes against the concrete slab thumping in his ears. "Why are you so nice to me?" He voices out firmly despite sounding small.

"It's not a big deal," the blond shrugs.

Donghyuck scoffs, he doesn't believe him because it can't not be a big deal. They're not friends — it doesn't work that way.

Mark catches the unspoken reply. He sees it right through Donghyuck's distant eyes as they step inside the apartment building, so he asks, "Is there has to be a reason?"

"Is there not?"

They climb three flights of stairs and come to a stop at the end of the hall where Yangyang and Donghyuck's shared apartment located. Mark turns to front-face Donghyuck and frees his hand from his grasp. 

Mark stares at him with an unreadable expression. Donghyuck tries to construe the situation, thinking maybe it isn't that hard to get under the blond's skin. However, Mark just smiles, softly, doe eyes narrowing into crescents before he reaches to ruffle Donghyuck's curls, gentle and affectionate that Donghyuck starts rethinking his question.

"Some people are just worth being nice to."

Donghyuck doesn't understand him. No, he would've understood if Mark's talking about Jeno, or Renjun, or even Jaemin — just not Donghyuck. The universe knows the word nice and Donghyuck does not match very well together. 

He can't fathom, can't construct a cohesive sentence to voice out his objection, and most importantly can't think. Not when Mark's stroke on his hairline feels antithetical to his belief about himself.

No one bewilders Donghyuck more than this pretty boy who buys him water and ditches practice to escort him to the dorm, than his genial nature and affectionate gestures. Than his earth-healing smile, perfect blond hair, and his will to continuously care for Donghyuck.

No one. No one comes close.

It should've come to his hindsight that it will get to him sooner or later: meeting Mark's eyes in hallways, trading smiles and winks, brushing shoulders in the cafeteria, looking for Mark after classes though not to the extent where he'd approach him.

No. Never approach. Donghyuck's cowardice prefers seeing him from afar. It feels safer that way.

Donghyuck likes that it's discreet, almost mischievous. It excites him in a way never before. Yangyang is an exception and Jeno is observant enough to catch a brief of it. Donghyuck attended the latest hockey game, using Yangyang as an excuse to sit and fawn behind the rink. The next morning Jeno came up and asked ("Is something going on between you and Mark?"

Donghyuck tried not to divert his eyes from his phone, "I don't even know him that well," hoping that he sounded utterly unfazed.

Jeno knitted his eyebrows, a finger scratching his sideburn, "Really? I'm pretty sure he stared at you a handful lot of times.")

Oh, Donghyuck knows alright, it's not like he didn't stare back too. He was aware of every single lingering glance Mark throws. Usually, he would feel bad for lying to Jeno straight to his teeth but then realizes that his statement about not knowing Mark well isn't exactly untrue.

He ignores the realization that sits heavy on his chest the entire day. It's his calls anyway. He chose it to be that way.

Donghyuck does not think about Mark like a madman but he does think of him when he sleeps. He thinks about the gentle hands that held his slender figure and caressed his hair, the low voice that would lull him to slumber.

Donghyuck learns that the mere thought of Mark keeps his nightmares away.

When he closes his eyes, he finds himself dreaming of Mark's chest against his ear, in a field of chrysanthemums, embracing him in safety, kissing him for the world to see — an alternate reality Donghyuck's subconscious demands and his consciousness can't receive.

-

The next time Donghyuck meets Mark, he wants to take everything back about narrating how easy it was to be with him.

It's just another night. Another party Yangyang dragged him to. This time Renjun is the host.

Renjun doesn't throw parties unless there's something thrilling, worthy to celebrate such as birthdays, wins at art competitions, highest test marks. Donghyuck bets it's the last. Renjun is weird when it comes to his grounds on celebration but Donghyuck favors his place more than anyone else's.

It's a fun time. Renjun's music choice is good and his preferable brand of booze tastes like blurry fireworks in his throat. Donghyuck feels light on his feet and his night spirals down into this: lost himself on the dance floor with Yangyang, participated in games that got him drunker by the hour, and like fate, came across Mark atwix sweaty bodies when he had just felt vomit creeping its way up to the pit of his throat.

Perfect timing.

Mark is definitely Donghyuck's Peter Parker. If not then how could Mark always show up when it gets crucial?

He has to admit, he's a little disappointed that Mark doesn't greet him with his infamous smile. There's a crease forming on the skin between his eyebrows and his mouth twists downward, tipping Donghyuck that Mark is in fact worried. Nonetheless, he's a sight for sore eyes.

Donghyuck thinks Mark is so cute he almost giggles. The alcohol simmers softly under his skin and it gratifies him towards Mark. He staggers forward and now they're as close as ever, he can't differentiate if the fuzziness in his head is due to the liquor coursing through his veins or Mark's nose brushing his.

Mark is flushed red, lids fluttering, there's a bottle of beer in his hand, the bottom of it digging painfully into Donghyuck's lower back. He waits for Mark to push him away but the moment never comes.

Donghyuck uses it to scrutinize, he likes that he's drunk because despite Mark being a bit blurred around the edges now, Donghyuck only sees him. Perturbing thoughts don't surface like they did most of the time, Donghyuck only sees Mark through the flesh.

"You look extremely debonair tonight," Donghyuck finally says, words slipping out of his mouth clumsily with a loopy smile on his lips.

"Debonair..." Mark dances the word on his tongue, a tiny tug lifting the corners of his mouth. "You're very drunk, aren't you." It comes off as more of a statement rather than a question.

"And you're very handsome, aren't you," Donghyuck manages to tangle his arms around the blond's neck and wiggles his eyebrows.

Mark hums, "Yeah, definitely wasted."

"Nonsense," Donghyuck lets out an exaggerated huff, pouting in fake offense, trying to sound as collected as possible. "I'm not wasted, I am—"

Oh no. His stomach coils and fuck, it's there. It's rushing up again.

"Not feeling so well." He finishes with a slight force to push the words past his lips.

Mark seems to get the idea and slings Donghyuck's arm around his shoulder, hand tight around his waist as he guides him through a throng of tipsy students. Mark brightens up when he spots Renjun in a grave conversation with Yeji — something about homologous chromosomes — and makes his way over swiftly. Renjun gapes when he sees the state Donghyuck's in, then laughs and tells Mark to just dump him in his room down the hall.

Of course, Mark isn't going to do that, but he ducks his head slightly and thanks Renjun anyway.

Donghyuck feels sicker by the minute, nausea hitting him harder than before. The music rings in his ears and he's been repeating prayers to not puke out all his stomach's contents on Mark. Much to his fortune, Mark gets him to Renjun's room right on time. Well, slightly over time once they get to the bathroom since Donghyuck has to leap and crush his knees before the toilet to let it all out in the rightful hole.

Mark rubs his back comfortingly, threading his fingers through the knots in his hair while Donghyuck empties his stomach. The sober version of himself would think it's pretty intimate. He's at his nastiest yet Mark still touches him like something pretty. The thought would've devastated him if he could think, at all.

They stay like that, for fifteen minutes at most — Donghyuck on his knees, head in the toilet bowl, chest digging into the rim as Mark soothingly stroke his back from behind. And when Donghyuck picks up his head, eyes prickled with tears, traces of vomit trailed down his chin, Mark smiles at him like the pleasant part in the numbness that alcohol brings him. Sweet unlike the tart taste in his mouth.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up," the blond says and helps Donghyuck on his feet.

Donghyuck grunts, head throbbing, the bathroom spinning from his sight, "It's not supposed to feel like shit until a few more hours."

"Well you did puke your guts out," Mark laughs while half–dragging him to the sink. His grip around Donghyuck is less tight than the previous one but manages to feel as safe.

Donghyuck rests his hands on the ceramic counter and turns on the faucet, immediately splashing his mouth with water. While he does, Mark slides his hands over Donghyuck's forearms and pushes back his long sleeves. Donghyuck feels the cold seethes into the bare skin of his arms.

"It'll get wet," Mark tells.

And he catches himself thinking whether Mark does this to everyone he knows. His sober self would've clustered into a series of wild thoughts. Perhaps being drunk has its perks tonight.

"How are you feeling?" Mark asks once he's finished rinsing his mouth. Donghyuck has mixed feelings about it, he surely feels less greasy but at the same time would totally taste grass to erase the unpleasant flavor on his tongue.

He meets Mark's genuine gaze and sighs, "Could be worse," he croaks out.

Mark gives him a sympathetic look. He takes off his jean jacket to put it over the dancer’s shoulders and escorts him out of the spew smelled bathroom, sandwiching his hands between Donghyuck's shoulders as he leads him to sit on the bed. 

Donghyuck has been here so many times that there's something comforting about being in Renjun's cream-painted room and knowing every piece of furniture has been grazed by the tip of his finger.

Mark settles beside him. He turns his head to take a good look at the charming blond.

This room is familiar. Renjun is familiar. Mark is not even though he feels like it.

"Do you want me to fetch you water?"

Water sounds like a breath of fresh air, Donghyuck needs it, but he doesn't crave it. That's the thing about Donghyuck in this heady state — all about his wants. The music is loud even from upstairs, resonating through the walls like a maddening heartbeat, it amplifies the agonizing pounding in his skull. Donghyuck screws his eyes shut.

"Hey, hey," Mark's voice wraps around him like the thing he wants. Clumsy fingers find trembling ones, softly entwining. "Let's lie down for a bit okay."

Too fuzzy to utter a reply, Donghyuck nods weakly, trusting Mark to let him down on the springy bed. Donghyuck lies in a petal position and he can feel the dip beside his leg where Mark sits. He curls his fingers stronger around Mark's hand and he can almost paint the frown that takes over the blond's face through his shut lids.

"Getting worse?" Mark asks, his tone wavering but gentle. 

Donghyuck falls quiet for a brief second, allowing his drunk mind to do its work, then shaking his head side to side. He's about to say something stupid.

"Don't choose water over me," he says, sort of whines, while tugging Mark downwards. Mark resists against his force, chuckling awkwardly, Donghyuck knows he's trying to keep a safe distance.

"It'll help you sober up.”

Funny, that's the exact problem. Donghyuck doesn't want to remember how it feels to be sober, not tonight. He'd rather stay where he's at right now, smooth lines and dull edges, hazy and soft and numb. Alcohol gives him the strength to push down the thick emotion that comes mixed with delight when Mark touches him like it means something, like he means something to him.

It shouldn't matter as he's gone through that before, they all touched him like it meant something. But then again, they were the same people that drove him to the gutter, feeling nothing, empty, and so, so broken. Donghyuck doesn't want to repeat, he doesn't hate himself enough to go through it again.

He hasn't wanted to feel for the longest time, believing it is the safest method to prevent a bled out and it was. Until recently the word safe causes a debriefing, wrapping around his head with doubts because, despite his credence, Mark feels safe as well.

Mark doesn't feel like a line he requires to cross, he's just there and Donghyuck craves him sometimes. He finds himself wanting to prolong a moment for as long as he can more often than not.

Mark feels safe and unsafe at the same time and it drives Donghyuck crazy. Donghyuck — sober — wouldn't dare to let himself have it. Too many risks at hand and he's never been a gambler. Donghyuck — drunk — is a different story.

"I don't want to," Donghyuck mumbles with a pause in between. "I want you here, beside me."

Mark brings up his other hand to Donghyuck's face, knuckles brushing against the fringe that covers his forehead, "I am beside you though."

"I meant the other side."

“You want me to lay beside you?”

“M’yeah.”

"Are you gonna make me listen to you rant all night?"

"Possibly."

An exhale and shuffling of feet is what Donghyuck hears next alongside the absence on the edge of the bed. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels Mark's weight beside him, barely touching but close enough to feel his heat radiating to his own body.

Lazily, Donghyuck turns his head to the blond, cheeks pressed against the pillow as he faces him with half-lidded eyes, "Too far."

The room compliments him nicely, defining the hollow of his cheekbones and jaw. Mark's lips curl as he side-eyes Donghyuck, "I'm being respectful.”

"And I want you respectfully closer," he tells Mark, voice loose and silky.

"Okay."

Like a wish upon a command, Mark shifts until he's in Donghyuck's proximity, in reach to put his chin on the taut flesh of his shoulder, nuzzling on his tendons until he's snug and all he inhales is a mingle of Mark's cologne and the beer he consumed earlier.

"Could've just said that you wanted to cuddle me," the blond jests, the side of his face hovering above Donghyuck's hair.

"I'd hate to boost your ego."

Mark's deep laughter resonates from his chest and throughout Donghyuck's body, "Are you comfortable?"

Donghyuck doesn't have to answer, already tucked into the crook of his neck. He lets out a snicker instead, "You're awfully caring," he feels Mark smiles into his hair. It feels nice that way. "Yangyang is right, you're too nice."

"Yangyang said that?"

"Don't tell him I told you though,"

"Don't worry, I'll only use it for blackmailing purposes."

"Huh, and he's funny too," Donghyuck drones and murmurs under his breath. He's pretty sure Mark catches it, hence, he hears him laugh lowly in his ear. Donghyuck has a lot to compare but so far Mark's laugh is the most pleasant sound.

"For good measures, this reminds of a time."

"You're comparing me to other guys?"

"I can't say."

"Oh?"

"You don't remember, do you?"

A crease builds in the middle of his brows, "Remember what?"

They lapse into silence, a bit thicker than before, and Donghyuck hears Mark contemplating.

"Yukhei's party.”

Mark waits. Donghyuck can't seem to find the answer in his head. He chuckles, "It's fine, you were fucked up pretty badly."

"But I wasn't," he dismisses. The most recent he went to Yukhei's party was not too long ago which he remembered dancing with Mark, leaving with him, and talking the night off. He remembers nothing involving a steamy moment in the bedroom, especially not with— then it clicks. Oh. "Oh.."

Mark breathes a little shallow and Donghyuck squeaks, “That was.. you?"

Memories take him back to the morning he woke up with a stranger in the same bed, but never to the night where it all went down. He should've, at least, been more skeptical given the stranger's shade of blond is practically identical to Mark's. 

"Sorry, I just can't remember anything,"

"It's okay."

Donghyuck doesn't know why, but he feels like clearing something up.

"I don't usually have one night stands—"

"We didn't.

"Oh?"

"Well, we were about to. You seemed so excited to get me in bed and the next thing I know you dozed off on me." Deep laughter, again, chimes in Donghyuck's ear. It's genuine. Mark is taking this very lightly, so he supposes it's only right if he flows with the mood.

"Yikes, I killed the mood, didn't I?"

Mark moves his head from left to right against Donghyuck's, "Don't worry, I fell asleep right after."

Giggling, he asks, "So it's that where you started to have the hots for me? All this time?"

Mark shrugs, "You were fucking pretty, I can't blame myself."

Donghyuck's giggle vanishes, he falls quiet. Mark didn't say it while laughing nor in a lighthearted tone. He said it like he means it and Donghyuck is trying to calm the roaring waves, the swarming butterflies, and the exploding sparks in his chest. 

"Hey," Mark calls, fingers tracing over Donghyuck's bony wrist, feather-like that it sends chills running down his spine. "Can I tell you something?"

Donghyuck fixates his gaze on the mole at the length of his neck, "Sure."

He sees him swallow.

"I lied when you asked why I was so nice to you," Mark says, solemn enough for the playful atmosphere to evaporate within a beat. Something inside Donghyuck stirs and he stares harder at the beauty mark on Mark's skin. "I wanted you to keep me around."

Donghyuck sucks in a long breath. Not yet. It's not fair, he's barely there. Reticence shrouds Donghyuck and he silently hopes that Mark would backpedal from that level of exposure. Heavy, the way Mark's jaw sits at the top of his head. Donghyuck feels the pressure on his chest too.

"I think I get it, whatever this is," Mark presses on. Donghyuck could visualize him biting his tongue as a bland chuckle escapes his mouth. "You don't tell me where you're from, when's your birthday, your favorite artist, your favorite color. You've never even called me by name," Donghyuck sinks his molar teeth into the insides of his cheeks, sweaty palms gripping the sheets. "But Donghyuck, I still want to stick around."

It's utter desperation, the first time Mark directly calls his name. Surprisingly momentous, inducing a push between his ribs borders, a leisure tug on his strings, and a pebble caught in his esophagus.

"I like being with you," Mark says honestly. He stops tracing and completely envelopes Donghyuck's hand, convincing and tight. "Everyone has their reasons for putting up guards, I don't know yours, and I don't need to know now just— don't push me away."

Donghyuck gnaws on his bottom lip.

He wants to tell Mark the parts of him that just can't. He wants to tell Mark that maybe he doesn't need to know now but in the future? One can only be patient for so long and Donghyuck knows that more than anyone else.

He wants to tell Mark that he wouldn't last, he wouldn't stay, no one ever did and Donghyuck has come too far to accept it to hope and try again.

Alternatively, what comes out is a downright chuckle and a rhetorical question: "So you're saying that you're okay with this?"

Mark purses his lips into a thin line.

"I meant what I said."

"Why?" Donghyuck can't help but ask. "Like you said, you don't know me like I don't know you, so why bother?"

Mark inches back a bit to view at Donghyuck, pupils dilated and tender with a hint of understanding and mimicked sentiment, Donghyuck can't look away.

"Because I feel you hurting," he brings their clasped hands to the left side of Donghyuck's chest, points it there. "Here, the same way.." then drags them to his own chest, pressing on it. "I feel it here."

The air gets stuck in his throat. It wouldn’t be uncommon for Donghyuck to accuse that this is some sweet sugary comment to get him to unveil and he absolutely despises it when people do that like it's facile. It's not. Donghyuck is one complicated creature, very few people could grasp him and even fewer could unravel him. He too doesn't get far in understanding his emotions more often than not.

Parallel to this very moment, where Mark's heart thrums irregularly against his hand, from the latter's chest and his knuckle, matching the pace of Donghyuck’s pulse — he doesn't get why he feels like crying. And it's scary because he does feel an ache there, in the width of Mark's torso, through his muscle tissues and the neurons that piece him together.

Maybe it's the alcohol that heightens his senses. It shouldn't worry him because he wouldn't know whether the pain they feel is similar or not, but inevitably, it's still there. Donghyuck may not be able to peer through Mark as the other does through him but God— it's there.

"I was scared to love too, to try again, told myself I wasn't stupid enough to put myself in the same cycle," Mark continues. Donghyuck's ears perk up at the last phrase. "Pretend that it's safer to keep it that way when it doesn't hurt less."

"And what did you do?"

"I remembered. That love isn't all about the hurting."

Donghyuck has a say in the matter, just didn't quite let it slip his tongue.

"Don't run," Mark whispers then tenderly brushes Donghyuck's hair behind his ear. The little action is enough to send flurries on the tip of his ears. "Let me reach for you Donghyuck."

Donghyuck breathes out, altering between Mark's eyes, searching for an inkling to any sign of pretense and finding none. 

An unspoken maybe I don't want to be reached floats between them. Donghyuck hopes Mark catches it because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to face an even slight risk of getting hurt.

Donghyuck thinks of kissing Mark as an easy way out.

He thinks of kissing Mark square on the mouth, long and hard. So hard that he'd hope this conversation would dissipate from his mind and long enough to untie all the knots in his chest. He terribly wishes that's the case, his coping mechanism tells him that is what needs to be done. But if it's anything we've learned about intoxicated Donghyuck is that he is pliant to his wants.

And so in the end, he doesn't kiss Mark, doesn't exactly let him reach either. What he does is momentarily let his subconscious step forth from the layers he built and renders into Mark's embrace, drowning in his scent — his everything. Prodding his nose on his sternum while a pair of arms hold his torso after a year.

The bass pounds loudly. Mark falls asleep. Donghyuck doesn't.

A cavity grows in him as the night gets older. Guilt bubbles inside as he counts the hour, staring off into the ceiling while at it. The weight on his midriff has lifted, having the snoozing blond turned in his sleep not too long ago. It's probably good for him anyway, the proximity only causes a frenzy in his head.

Donghyuck's just a little cold now but he'll muddle through.

A new thing he learns about Mark in these short hours is that he doesn't sleep in peace. Donghyuck witnesses it all come in one place. The tremulous breaths, teeth grit, occasional head shifts, sudden tension from his neck down to his shoulder. A pained expression. He felt Mark's fingers fist his jacket once or twice, it seems awfully alike to his shape on most nights.

Donghyuck is concerned but knows bad dreams aren't exactly atypical. Not every nightmare is mold out of trauma. Right, he shouldn't be shaken about it. But then he saw the layer of sweat that coats Mark's collarbones and felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach.

It gets worse when Mark starts making low plaintive whinings, broken sounds. He remembers hearing Mark's indistinct utterances that morning and thinking he was sleep-talking. If only Donghyuck had payed a little more attention, he would've deciphered that it was, as a matter of fact, bits and pieces of a conversation.

He would've known the stranger he slept with wasn't simply talking in his sleep. He'd know that Mark experiences nightmares too. For what is a nightmare but a form of internal communication?

Donghyuck thinks about cloaking Mark in his arms like the times he had hoped anyone would when nights sheathe him with cold sweat and the dark recesses of his brain visualized. Yangyang was there most of the time, slept in his bed more than fingers could count. He is thankful for the effort his best friend gave yet the nightmares never seem to cease.

That’s until he finds Mark and his overflowing gentleness. It's supposed to be magical to have found someone so patient, so benevolent. Someone that would go through an extended length for him.

Instead, Donghyuck feels guilty, sickly almost. He watches Mark whimpers in his sleep and he sees himself, it leaves him horror-stricken. It's scary to realize a deep emotional tether between two brittle souls. Frightening that Donghyuck starts to grasp why it wasn't hard for Mark to understand him. He’s beginning to believe he and Mark may have undergone an identical ruining.

Many would find it comforting to relate with others but not Donghyuck. In fact, it haunts him to realize the unfairness Mark puts himself in.

Tonight has made him perceive that two parties are hurting and Mark is putting himself to try again while Donghyuck had to be the one that doesn't know how to open up. He can't crack, stubbornly can't be the one that reaches first, as simple as pulling Mark into his arms — he can't. Donghyuck can do nothing for him. He feels undeserving and fucking guilty.

Donghyuck blinks his bleary eyes at the ceiling, parts his mouth, and to his surprise, starts crying. The bricks sit on his chest a lot too heavy, Mark needs a person, not a burden.

When the dawn fissures and the tears dry, Donghyuck makes his way out of the room without leaving a trace. And just like last time, he doesn't look back.

Donghyuck is a fragment of broken pieces. A speck in shards of glass. He's shattered and unable to glue the missing parts of him together.

Donghyuck is young and once wore his heart on his sleeve, it made him an imbecile. He fell deep easily, loved freely and relentlessly and it led him to wounds carved deeper on the outline of his heart over time. He's pliant to love, eager to taste its wondrous sensation and when it ended up exploiting him, he'd relent and put up with it.

Again and again and again he bled an ocean through his eyes and felt his soul wafer thin. It didn't hurt any less each time it happened, but if Donghyuck was anything then he was hardheaded. Hard to let go.

When Donghyuck loved, he loved gravely. He gave everything, pledged his all even when reciprocation was a hole that never got its chance to be filled.

Everyone had their shortcomings and Donghyuck had his. Some people shoved it aside, some learned to accept — flaws and all — but Donghyuck vowed to always fix them. He fixed them because he feared, of being left, for being flawed. 

He begged, pleaded, got down on his knees because he believed love has meaning. Love was supposed to be perfect. Chances were supposed to perfect him. His past relationships taught him that love was unconditional, but not through imperfections.

He spent tedious days and nights digging up his mistakes and when he found none, he would make them up thinking it was an easier road to redemption, to feel loved.

Donghyuck didn't realize it was a path to self-destruct.

It came to a point where he couldn't differentiate between his mistakes and his significant others'. Soon, Donghyuck's mindset aimed at himself as the mistake. It took him a long period of time to break out of the cycle of ill-fated relationships. One day he just stopped wanting to love but the mentality remained to live in him, eating him off like a parasite.

That's what his nightmares are all about. Voices in his head, his past's and his own, eerily chanting that he would never be enough. Images, distorted yet vivid to remind him that love tore, love branded him unworthy and fucked him up in so many ways. He's unable to forget.

The wounds are fresh, oozing blood every morning. Donghyuck doesn't get to overcome his trauma. Self blame and pure hatred, he feels them reverberate within his bones each breath he takes. Every night is another reminder that he lacks and would always lack, that he loved but is never enough to be loved. He keeps it in mind, locked inside a cage.

Mark was solely the closest thing to get his nightmares to dissolve. But Donghyuck is no longer that naive to rely on someone else. He is not that stubborn, not that gullible, not that stupid. Not anymore. 

He also knows that Mark's a good guy and is probably different from his exes. That doesn't stop the fear from creeping up his throat though.

In some ways, Donghyuck knows that at the end of the day it all leads back to himself and scarily, he's yet to make amend with his demons. Donghyuck is not sure if he could ever.

They're back to square one.

Back to pretending not to know each other. No shy smiles and sneaky winks, no subtle shoulder brushes and knowing looks. Donghyuck doesn't meet Mark's eyes in the hallway, at practice, at games, and doesn't feel them on him either. He doesn't search for Mark as Mark doesn't search for him.

There's this restless sensation as if he feels a certain gaze at the back of his neck only to find that it's all in his head. He'd never known Mark's absence would create such a toll on his core. Albeit it's easier, in a way, he's not always reminded of the guilt that's rotting beneath his skin — which makes him cowardly — Donghyuck prefers the term total asshole but he couldn't agree more.

He is working on not feeling like he's missing something all the time. It's ugly, the void and numbness that have made a home in his chest. He knows he has no right to dwell for it was his calls to elusively cut ties and it shouldn't steal his time, day and night, rethinking whether he's made the right choice.

It shouldn't sadden him because who is he kidding? They weren't more than strangers to begin with.

Mark was right, Donghyuck had never even called him by his name. They didn't exchange 'what's your story?' and 'how's your day?'. No names, no personal information, no heartbreak right?

It hits Donghyuck like a swinging bat how remote they are to one another. He doesn't know when is Mark's birthday, who's his favorite artist, what's his color pick, and he never asked. Granted, he knows that Mark has some knowledge in poetry, but he doesn’t know what has driven Mark to love poetry or if actually loves poetry.

These days, Donghyuck would spend hours trying to name five things about Mark that the whole school doesn't already know. He'd start and end it right there because the one real thing that comes to mind would simply lacerate his heart.

Oh, and about the nightmares, Donghyuck hasn't had those either. They’re replaced by dreams that would scarcely occur when he thinks about Mark before falling asleep (and by that he means at every given night).

Donghyuck dreams about the same thing: chrysanthemums, the secureness of Mark's arms, and the steadiness of his heartbeat against his ear. And he wakes up with the same feeling each following day: ridiculously sad, empty, and trapped in an asymptotic fantasy.

"You're awfully quiet," Yangyang comments when he gets out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel.

Donghyuck stops throwing the ball to the ceiling and spares his best friend a glance, "Do I usually scream in horror while you're in the shower?"

"No," the hockey prodigy snorts and makes his way around the beanbag Donghyuck sits on. "But you'd turn on some Taeyeon or SHINee and belt your lungs out, or you'd turn the bathroom lights off and make exaggerated footsteps. No in between."

Mark lets his lips minimally quirk, he usually would. But as of the moment, he doesn't even have the will to stand. It is obvious why.

"Just tired I guess," he shrugs, reverting his gaze back to the ceiling. "School and stuff."

"Okay, school and stuff," the words linger on Yangyang's tongue long enough for him to speculate a question. Yangyang drapes the towel around his neck and plops down next to Donghyuck, eyeing him skeptically. "What's the stuff?"

"Hm?" Donghyuck tries to maintain a calm visage. "Oh you know, the dance team and other not-too-serious things, you know me, I tend to overstress."

"I know," replies Yangyang with a brotherly, unconvinced smile that makes Donghyuck's insides churn. "You do also know that you can talk to me right?"

Donghyuck stays silent, feels a familiar clench expand in his chest, making itself known.

"If something's wrong, you know where to go Hyuck. I'm a shit adviser but I always listen, don't carry a burden on your own."

A shaky breath escapes his mouth. God, he feels like crying already. He contemplates telling Yangyang about it, rightfully knowing he couldn't keep anything forever from his best friend. Yangyang had already seen him in some of his worst anyway.

It floods back to him — the memory of Mark asking him not to run, Mark whimpering in his sleep, him leaving before the sun rose, and the past week spent being an actual stranger to Mark. He takes in much air, pressure rising up his throat. He doesn't think he can take it. So, he shakes away his impending tears and decides to save it for another time.

"I'm fine, don't worry," the dancer makes an attempt to flash the most reassuring smile he could pull off. Yangyang doesn't buy it, never does, but he respects Donghyuck's decision. It's one of the things he likes about his best friend, he never pushes his limits.

"If you say so," Yangyang says. Something else pops in Donghyuck's head.

"Hey, uh," he purses his lips and starts tossing the ball to the ceiling again. "How's it with, um, what's his name— Ten?"

Yangyang looks at him incredulously, eyebrows at their peak, a peal of laughter at the tip of his tongue.

"What's with you today?" He asks in amusement. "Did you lose a few screws in your head?"

"What? No, I didn't."

"You don't give a shit about my love life Hyuck."

"I do!"

"You don't even call it love life, you call it a fling."

Yangyang makes a point.

Donghyuck groans into his hand, "Because it is. Can't I have interest in how your lovely fling is going?"

There it is, the dreamy look on Yangyang's face that he has seen more than a few times ever since Ten made his way into Yangyang's life. It surprises him if he's being honest, "We're doing fine, actually."

"Hasn't it been more than two weeks?"

"You're implying?"

"Don't play dumb," he shifts to his side and flicks Yangyang's bangs playfully. The hockey prodigy doesn't look the slightest bit upset. "I call it a fling for a reason."

Yangyang rolls his eyes good-naturedly and pauses. He clutches his hands to his chest, "Ten's great, he's really fucking great, we're a match made in heaven."

Donghyuck snorts, "You're being serious?"

"I am!" He straightens his posture to make known how solemn he is. "He's funny, has a dope sense of music, strikingly handsome, super mature but is such a baby sometimes, and he's multilingual. I like that I can speak with him in like, three different languages, never boring."

"Sounds like the perfect guy, huh?" Donghyuck drones with a toying smile.

Yangyang only chuckles.

"Ten.. he's not perfect," the dreaminess coating his face fades into something, fond. Donghyuck thinks this may be his first time seeing a certain expression. "He just understands me, he really does, and I understand him too. We try to make the most of it in this relationship. I guess that's what I was missing in other guys."

Mutual understanding, something Donghyuck could have if he tried.

"Is it enough?" He asks before he could stop himself. He feels like biting his tongue. Yangyang turns his head to him.

"It is," Yangyang tells to answer his question, soft-voiced and sincere. "We learn to take new and scary steps together every day. Together, that's what's important."

It's hard to believe Yangyang but Donghyuck lets the phrase sit in his chest, pooling until it's lukewarm, absorbing it to his brain.

"Dude I've been meaning to ask, did you buy a new jacket?" Yangyang changes the topic.

Donghyuck moves his attention to the jean jacket that's hung behind the door. The sight of it burns through him. He can't seem to remember why he kept it. Right, of course, they don't practically co-exist anymore.

"No, um, that's Mark's," he answers truthfully. The name tastes like sadness in his mouth, he's never imagined it to feel like this. "I borrowed it after I puked my guts out at Renjun’s party. Can you do me a favor and return it to him? We don't match classes and hardly ever cross paths."

Yangyang parts his mouth closes it then opens it again, "Sure thing."

It's been a week. Getting rid of the only Mark's clothing he has with him would do them good. Near to a closure. Donghyuck left Mark without a trace and now he's left without a trace of Mark. It’s fair that way.

On Wednesdays and Fridays, Donghyuck has practice. Today is the first session out of the two and Donghyuck is just glad he has something to get his mind off the not seeing and talking to Mark thing after a dreadful week (or more, not that he’s counting or anything). 

Nothing distracts him better than dancing. To Donghyuck, dancing is freedom. To move his body is fresh air for his body and nourishment for his jaded soul. Dancing is the only form of healing Donghyuck knows and dares to try. He'd dance until the sweat drips the polished wood and his reflection showed ragged breathing and flushed cheeks — until the pain subdues and all he feels is soreness in his feet along with satisfaction from executing the perfect moves.

Needless to say, Donghyuck's excited. So, when he enters the practice room and greets his fellow dancers, they praise him for looking a little brighter. He feels the immense weight on his shoulders momentarily lifted too.

There's something else though. When Donghyuck sits back against the expansive mirror, knee tucked under his chin with his other leg extended and arms reaching to the front to fix the knot of his shoelaces, his eyes naturally set to the back of the room where most of his friends are. 

Two out of the many are Shin Ryujin, in her dance attire, and Lee Chaeryeong, still looking neat as ever. Ryujin has her back on the wall while Chaeryeong stands before her, smiling affectionately as she sways the arm Ryujin's holding onto. Donghyuck thinks he could read their lips perfectly ("Don't leave yet." "Your dance teacher is about to come in any minute." "Let's just wait until then.").

The exuberant and lovey-dovey aura seems surreal to him, makes his stomach twist too. He remembers the days when Ryujin ranted about how unreachable Lee Chaeryeong is. No matter how hard she tried and how many ludicrous stunts she pulled, a way to Chaeryeong's heart had always appeared like a dead end. Donghyuck pitied Ryujin, the girl has always had a very sincere intention, but as someone who's as guarded and reticent, he understands Chaeryeong as well.

Donghyuck never knew her story but it doesn't take a whole storytime to see what heartbreak could do to a person. So, it surprises him when things start shifting and Chaeryeong is no longer the timid student that gives Ryujin the cold shoulder.

It took Ryujin a year to court Chaeryeong. Donghyuck doesn't know the specific details his fellow dancer did to do so, but Ryujin successfully got her crush to open up.

It amuses him. He watches them hug, Ryujin pressing a kiss to the head student council's hair and Chaeryeong relishing in it before they bid their see you later's. 

Donghyuck's mind wanders for a brief moment, wondering if he would ever heal and love again like Chaeryeong. Unavoidably, he drifts further into thinking the possibilities of the entwined bodies at the back of the room being him and Mark.

Donghyuck survived another day.

If you could call sleeping throughout the entire lesson and isolating himself in the garden during breaks surviving, Donghyuck would proudly say he did.

Slinging his bag on one shoulder, he exits the classroom with Jeno, who's been eyeing him suspiciously the whole day — a few days maybe, he doesn't really know. Trudging his way to the lobby, Donghyuck doesn't get very far without Jeno's underwhelming questions.

"You're heading back now?" asks Jeno. Donghyuck knows it's his method to build up to the topic he really wants to ask.

"Yeah, I've got nothing better to do anyway," he answers half-heartedly.

"Oh yeah?" Jeno quips, twitching an eyebrow. "It's funny, everyone else seems to be so busy except you."

Donghyuck clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at his friend, "Look, if Jaemin is too busy playing Patti Lupone to get back to you then I'm sorry, don't push the agenda on me."

"Hey!" Jeno frowns and molds his lips into a pout. "Jaeminnie is never too busy to reply to my texts."

"So now you're close enough to call him Jaeminnie," Donghyuck teases. He devilishly grins at how the tip of Jeno's ears instantly turns bright red.

"You're annoying."

"Thanks, you too. Now if you don't mind I'm gonna go home and oversleep." And just as he says that Jeno's loose grip on his arm stops him from stepping out of the lobby.

Donghyuck meets Jeno's worried gaze and shakes it off with humor, "What? Do you want to walk me home?"

Jeno, unmoving, replies to him, "And get some ice cream on the way? I'd love to if I don't have practice later, are you okay?"

He wants to tip his head back and laugh to avoid getting out an obvious answer, but all he manages to bring out is a small chuckle. He pats Jeno's back and nods, "It'll get better Jen."

"You sure?"

"Mhm, positive."

"Okay then," he accepts. "I think Yangyang was told to supervise us again today, you could just watch practice you know, or sit around, doesn't matter as long as you don't get too lonely."

God. Oh God, no. Anything but the rink. Anything but sitting behind the net and watching the team that consists of twenty two players and a Mark Lee. Yeah, anything but that.

He forces his lips to curve, nose crinkling as he swiftly pushes Jeno's hand off, "I think I'll have my bed instead."

"Alright, whatever suits you."

Donghyuck breathes out a sigh of relief for Jeno doesn't press further.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah. Walk safely, don't crash into a car, or a food stand, or anyone unwanted."

Donghyuck laughs and waves him off. Jeno can be weird sometimes.

Remember? It takes a five minute walk to get to the studio apartment building. Two by sprint. 

Well, it takes Donghyuck eight considering the way he's dragging his foot down the pavement. And to take Jeno's piece of advice earlier (if he can even call it that), he did almost smack into a stall sign that belonged to one of the stands that lined the apartment complex. It's humiliating given the pace he was in.

Nevertheless, he makes it to the apartment unscratched.

Donghyuck fishes his hands out of the pocket of his hoodie having already seen the building from his peripheral vision. Just as he's about to shove the glass door, he retracts his hand from the handle immediately, words faltered on the tip of his tongue when he looks straight through the door.

Mark stands on the other side, staring right back at him. 

Donghyuck fights the urge to run, to listen to his senses and just take off because fuck, even Jeno had unknowingly warned him not to run into anyone unwanted. But here he is, eye to eye to the last person he wants to see with only a thin glass separating them. The next thing he knows he might just actually crash into a car.

The gaze that Mark holds is intense. Donghyuck feels the earth shift upon its axis, or maybe he's just that affected, he can't quite tell the difference. What he notices different is the plain black t-shirt and dark jeans Mark has on (he's pretty sure Mark's supposed to wear his jersey), and also the look on his face.

Mark lost the tenderness of it all, there's no smile on display to greet Donghyuck like he used to, just confusion and anger and other emotions he has pent up inside him. But then again, it'd be absurd for Mark to even want to bat an eye on him, let alone smile.

Donghyuck's decision to stay in his stance is not very bright because when Mark strides over, Donghyuck feels the last string he's holding onto snaps and swivels on his heels to walk away. Damn it, he's running again but it is all he can think of doing before things could go down even further. Clearly, Mark has another idea from how his hand touches the skin of Donghyuck's arm, demanding but not anywhere near forceful. Donghyuck feels like he's in a lion’s den.

Left with no other choice, he turns to Mark and shit, his knees are weak. He trembles right then and there. Mark's pupils are so dark and Donghyuck is so scared of what the blond has to say. But he knows he deserves it so he tells himself to suck up the fact that Mark is probably going to spit I hate you directly to his face.

Donghyuck waits for it to come, he braces himself to hear the worst.

But it never came.

Instead, Mark's eyes become crestfallen the longer he stares at Donghyuck. And the longer his touch lingers, the more Donghyuck's emotions threaten to spill through his eyes. He doesn't want to be seen crying. He left. He shouldn't be the one crying.

Mark lets out a frustrated noise as he swings the material in his hand, taking Donghyuck's attention to the jean jacket he had asked Yangyang to return to him. He breathes out roughly, "Why— why did you—" The cavity in Donghyuck's chest echoes as Mark speaks.

"Why would—" Mark's face contorts into something painful, similar to treachery. "Why would you give this back?" His voice breaks in the middle, thicker with the lump in his throat.

Donghyuck chokes inwardly, unsure of what to say. He just blinks at the other, getting closer to an edge by every passing second.

"Donghyuck why?" He raises his voice. "What did you mean by this?"

"I—" Donghyuck opens his mouth but the words stutter in his chest. Mark truly looks at him as if returning his jacket is a written crime. "It's yours..."

"I never asked for it back," tells Mark, frown deepening on his forehead.

"I— I know," Donghyuck struggles to vocalize his feelings because it hurts and it's heavy and he feels deeply guilty standing right in front of Mark right now. "I just thought, it wasn't fair if I get to keep something from you while— while you're—"

Donghyuck looks up at Mark through his lashes, tries not to stare too hard and crack, "While you're left with nothing."

Mark tears his gaze away from him to the concrete, biting down on his bottom lip and Donghyuck can almost feel the sting on his own flesh. "So you meant to walk away for good?" scoffs Mark under his breath.

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair and whines exasperatedly, "What did you think? We avoided each other with our might since then. Isn't it obvious what I'm trying to do?"

"I just thought you needed space," Mark matches his tone. "To process and make up your mind. I know what I asked for isn't small, so I gave what I thought you wanted."

There it goes, the sound of Donghyuck's heart splitting in two. He's so stupid. So shitty. Mark shouldn't have ever met him.

This is what he does, he lets his anguishing fear get the best of him and break people with it. That's what he is, a destructive being.

Donghyuck can’t help but to stupidly cry, hiccuping with tiny sobs. The decision he made to save them from future misery just crumbled into dust. He's done more damage than calculated and he can only look at Mark with terrible, horrible guilt. Maybe what Mark needs to see is now how badly fucked up Donghyuck is, so he'd see the big picture that hanging around Donghyuck would just burden him.

"Mark," Donghyuck utters for the first time to the blond. The wind stops blowing, Mark freezes at the sudden call of his name. "There's nothing you can do to give me what I want."

Donghyuck hates how brittle he sounds, so weak because he's peeling. Walls are breaking despite his will against it.

"Then what do you want?" asks Mark, eyes finding their way back to Donghyuck's wet ones. "Why did you leave?"

Donghyuck wipes away his tears, clenching his jaw tightly. There's no point in holding back anymore, right? "I saw— heard everything. Your nightmares. I heard it all."

"And you're scared of it?"

"I'm scared that I would make it worse," he cuts off in a beat. Mark's gaze remains on him. "I'm scared of what I'd end up doing to you. Mark, I'm no different, if not even worse. It's clear that we both are having a hard time moving on and the last thing you need is someone who has lost every last bit of love in his body. I can't heal you Mark," his voice thins at the end. "I'm sorry I hurt you but there's nothing else I can do for you, nothing good will come up from staying with me. Go ahead and ask around, you'll know."

Mark looks down, jaw moving side to side, silence filling the two of them. Polar opposite, Donghyuck looks up to the sky and blinks the tears away.

Then Mark finds his voice, "I don't want to know from them."

Donghyuck's heart stumbles, he shakes his head violently, "Please don't,"

"We haven't even—"

"Mark, for goodness sake, don't," he chokes through gritted teeth.

"Donghyuck, did you even hear yourself?"

He can't handle it anymore. It hurts to argue. To even think of anything to reply.

Donghyuck just walks away. Mark follows after but he keeps walking away because really, he doesn't want to hear any of it. Donghyuck is bad for him, why can't he see that? Why does Mark have to be as stubborn as he is? Why is Mark making it so much harder?

With much effort, he tries to block out everything that comes out of the latter's mouth, focusing on the hustling wind as he marches to the building, pushing through the glass, desperately sprinting to the stairwell, in need to avoid another inner conflict.

And it is on the stairs, that Mark tugs him from behind, down to him. He would've yelped if it wasn't for Mark's mouth shutting him up. 

Donghyuck is malfunctioning, taken aback by the unforeseen contact. Mark is kissing him resolutely yet soft in a way that compels him to melt into the hands that hold his wrist and waist. Mark's lips are pressing, moving, claiming his own with all the repressed frustration and yearning. This can't be the answer to their unresolved friction but God, the heat of Mark's mouth sure feels like it.

It makes him think that maybe he should've kissed Mark back in Renjun's room, or back when they were dancing under Yukhei's strobe lights and things were much easier. But then Mark wouldn't kiss him the way he’s kissing him right now.

Mark tastes like unflavored chapstick and watermelon candy but above all, he tastes like safety. The tears slice through Donghyuck's corium because despite everything, Mark is safe and Donghyuck wants to pour his everything on him. And so he takes his chance, pulling Mark closer by the nape of his neck, letting his lips speak the buried thoughts that could never be verbalized.

Donghyuck's sure Mark knows how broken he is by now. It's almost embarrassing until Mark squeezes his waist like a hushed it's okay. Donghyuck just revels in everything that is Mark.

"Tell me what you want," Mark breathlessly says on his lips like a plea for honesty. He moves his hands to cup Donghyuck's face, thumbs swiping back and forth over the highs of his cheeks.

Donghyuck opens his eyes to the sight of Mark peering at him, doting and solemn in the best way, "Put your past and fear aside. Don't listen to them just this once. What do you want, Donghyuck?"

It's human nature to lose themselves to desire, to want something so much that it drives them insane.

And Donghyuck wants Mark in all the ways he could have him. It used to be misty, clouded with hesitation, but now it's as clear as any summer skies.

"You. I want you, Mark." Donghyuck has never spoken truer words.

It's like some part of his weight has been lifted, some walls have been torn down but he feels freer. It's liberating to out his feelings veraciously.

Moreover, Mark answers him in the best way possible: leaning in, a smile grazing his swollen lips as he gives Donghyuck satisfaction by sealing him with a kiss that makes Donghyuck faint on his feet and his head spin.

Chrysanthemums and Mark Lee. They don't feel like an unattainable dream anymore.

An instant connection is one tricky thing. Mark had always thought about it in the gray area.

He didn't hold strong opinions with or against it as it hadn't occurred to himself. He's heard people claiming they've experienced an instant click but they are very little to none than many. It's not exactly complicated for him to sum up that the case is particularly rare. Perhaps it was a mere overly romanticized theory, he's lived long enough to confirm a few existences of sugar-coated premises.

That was until he met Donghyuck.

Mark remembers the first time he had seen Donghyuck. He was just starting to adjust to life in South Korea when he reconnected with an old friend.

Wong Yukhei is a strange soul. Unprejudiced, noisy, so very obsessed with the face his mother gave him, but extremely nice and gentle once you get to know him. Mark wonders sometimes how could a friend he had befriended in middle school and didn't spend a lot of time sending messages and catching up after he transferred back to his home country treats him like they had not been apart for three years. Yukhei's level of social butterfly manages to surprise him every time.

And of course, being around Yukhei meant getting dragged around for parties. Mark never opposed, thinking it was a good chance to meet new people. After all, moving benefitted him a fresh start and Mark was ready to reset (regardless it wasn't his true intention for flying across the globe).

Mark has had his fair share of failed relationships, a few even scarred him badly, but he didn’t come fresh out of heartbreak. Still, moving felt like a gift to really go on with his life. And meeting Donghyuck was kind of a stepping stone, he supposes. 

Honey skin slick with sweat, brown hair loose and bouncing atop his head, dancing in a pair of skinny jeans that made his legs appear to go on forever. Donghyuck's profound beauty stood out and not even the alcohol could blur his slender figure from Mark's eyesight. To say Donghyuck was so damn pretty felt like an understatement. He's similar to dynamite. Beautiful and high-spirited and he glimmered. Mark couldn’t take his eyes off him, as if Donghyuck’s presence demanded his whole attention.

At the kitchen counter that served drinks, where Mark's drunken mind was mustering a plan to approach the stranger, Donghyuck had walked towards him first, a bottle dangling from one of his hands. His presence was so magnetic Mark was aware from yards away. 

Donghyuck approached him with a glint in his half-lidded eyes and a challenging tug on the corner of his mouth — an expression that hung Mark's mouth open once they got close. He smiled prettily at him, drawing a finger through Mark’s collarbone ("You're not very subtle at staring, y’know?”). It was obvious that he was at least in his third bottle, but to be fair, Mark is halfway through his second. 

Mark remembers their endless flirting, their languid limbs all over each other, and he remembers pulling Donghyuck a little too rough by the shoulder, into an eager kiss that soon escalated into a hot, sloppy, and alcohol-based make out session. At that exact moment, Mark felt his body attuned to Donghyuck.

Mark remembers kissing into walls, in the halls and in a room. Donghyuck was only a stranger back then but Mark had already kissed him like he'd want him.

He remembers feeling fire in the places Donghyuck touched, his body had far memorized before his motoric senses could. He remembers Donghyuck’s fingers shying at the bottom of his shirt then went to disregard their tops in a clumsy motion. Mark doesn't even know why but he recalls the flavor of Donghyuck's giggle in his mouth as they staggered to the bed.

His memories take him as good as Donghyuck passing out right on top of him, and inhaling the latter’s lemon shampoo that lulled him to sleep right after.

That morning, when Mark had woken to an empty bed, he hadn’t known that the beautiful stranger he almost slept with had left an imprint in his life.

Mark met Donghyuck and he believed that there are times in life when people could randomly connect with another human on a level that catches them off guard. A level that lovingly reminded him that connections are beyond people's power and they exist under any given circumstances.

It's complicated. To put it simply, Mark felt them clicked.

The universe continued to set them up in a sequence of uncanny encounters. It probably was too soon to say, but Mark felt stuck on the stranger. 

He used to blame it on the other for looking mercilessly breathtaking all the time. Too many times he’d basked in how pretty Donghyuck looked in the purple crewneck he often carried around, or with his light brown hair parted. Donghyuck was so, so pretty that Mark had to refrain himself from sitting Donghyuck down and getting to know him all day.

It didn’t end up happening — getting to know Donghyuck. Donghyuck was surely cunning from Mark's point of view, it took him a while to realize that he was distant too.

It's different. The look in Donghyuck's eyes when he's sober. Far from playful and sultry, nearing enigmatic. Donghyuck was more than a fun drunk, more perplexed than a pretty face. Donghyuck was like a dim light bulb. His smile never reached his eyes and he was never the first one to initiate a conversation. Anyone else would’ve assumed he’s not interested but Mark saw an underlying pain.

There was more to him than Mark had originally thought. Donghyuck was a gentle soul with layers of unkempt emotions inside. He was a conundrum.

However, Mark has never seen him as something unsolved, unable to fix. It’s factual that Donghyuck was broken all over, torn in myriad pieces that made him seem impossible to mend, but Mark sees Donghyuck pass that.

It wasn’t Donghyuck’s affliction that made him want to stick around. It was Donghyuck. It was his disheveled hair, his keenness on sweaters, his sincere smiles that appeared around Mark. It was his ability to out-dance everyone and stick out like a sore thumb in a room of people. It was his tendency to spread warmth across Mark’s chest and make his heart swell without doing much. 

Mark thought Donghyuck was pretty fucking amazing and he still does. He liked being around Donghyuck more than he liked being around anyone else. But with the way they were to each other and the amount of grayness that colored their relationship, Mark worried Donghyuck wouldn’t keep him much longer. Each encounter edged Mark closer to wholly wanting Donghyuck while Donghyuck began to question his ground more and more.

And Mark was so shit at bottling his feelings, he just decided to come clean while his head was underwater. The drinks he consumed buzzed under his skin but Donghyuck remains as sharp as ever. Mark’s feelings couldn’t lie, his body remembered that Donghyuck would always feel right. And when he was asked to lie down beside him, Mark’s inwards burst because he had wanted to hold Donghyuck since forever.

So, there he lay with his heart sitting in his throat and in Donghyuck’s hand that nestled right on his chest, hoping that Donghyuck wouldn’t run as he emptied his heart out.

That hope — Mark felt it slip away in a whim. The silence sharp and slicing between their tangled bodies. Mark knew exactly what he wanted but Donghyuck didn’t, so the outcome was predicted.

Even though hope bloomed once again when Donghyuck cuddled closer to him and he got to hold him tighter than before, alas Mark didn’t think it meant that he didn’t scare Donghyuck off. And he was right. When soberness kicked in, Donghyuck wasn’t in his arms anymore. Then he wasn’t in many aspects of Mark’s life for the following week. 

It should’ve been the biggest warning sign amongst many. Anyone else would’ve taken it as one.

But Mark wasn't anyone else. Donghyuck’s walls were up and they were high and thick and towering anyone could see them from a mile away and Mark was the only soul that would gladly jump over them. No one wants Donghyuck as much as Mark wants him. No one cares, accepts, understands as much. No one has been hurt as badly as Donghyuck, except for Mark.

Mark has quite the experience, having gone through all the phases: denial, anger, grief, dejection, and finally acceptance. He's come far in his love life and he's proud to admit.

He also believes that it takes time. And when he mentions time, he means numerous years, to permanently submerge the painful memories, to outlive them completely. For once they were ingrained in his brain too and Mark has learned that patience is the right weapon to wield. 

He was willing to wield the same weapon for Donghyuck. 

Nightmares could always appear against his will, but Mark doesn't let them own him, that's his stand.

He’s met up with so many walls when it came to figuring out Donghyuck, it has crossed his mind that he was most likely going to lose his mind over it. But Mark likes Donghyuck a lot. Mark feels emotionally tethered to him and frankly, he knows he isn’t the only one that feels it. That’s enough reason for him to keep going.

The sky is striking light blue. The clouds dash a few whites, a radiant and joyful touch. Brilliant rays light the tarmac and warm Donghyuck’s golden skin, kissing his side profile to a distinct level of sharpness.

The door chimes when it’s shoved open for him. Donghyuck coaxes a smile. The shop greets him in honeyed hues, its homey aroma wafting into his nose like nothing is ever as pleasant. 

It’s early and the machines are newly warming, so many tables and so few white cups on them. The shop’s ambiance is charming when it isn’t packed with rushed orders and loud chatters. 

“Welcome, what would you like to order?”

Soft music comes from the background, along with the buzzing of brewing coffee machines, Donghyuck stops listening to them once the boy beside him speaks, “I think I’ll have a hot latte please,” he turns his head and Donghyuck sees his spark glow a little brighter, his face more relaxed, a smidge more joy in his eyes. “What about you?"

Donghyuck mimics his expression, “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

“Alright, two hot lattes coming right up,” the barista chirps with a grin that makes them feel more welcomed. “Anything else?”

Donghyuck feels those eyes on him again, now with eyebrows raised in question. He shakes his head in response. 

“We’re good.” Mark smiles and hands over his card. Donghyuck reprimands himself to buy them lunch later. 

In short minutes, their orders are placed on the counter and they take it, shoulders brushing as they make way to the table beside the vast window. The sunlight streams right through it, painting them yellow, Donghyuck doesn’t miss to glance at Mark who’s rising the cup to his lips. He looks stupidly handsome with his hair up and his jacket unzipped. Donghyuck wants to stare for a long time. 

There’s time for that. 

Setting his drink down, Mark hunches to rest his elbows on his knees, aiming his eyes at Donghyuck with groundbreaking tenderness. Within the cup sits the swirling hues of the coffee, every shade of brown he adores, blending perfectly — it matches the color of Mark’s compassionate eyes and melts Donghyuck all over.

“You ready to do this?” He asks, showing sincerity, mouth curling to give Donghyuck the reassurance he wanted needed. 

Donghyuck lets out a sigh that comes with the stones that have been weighing his chest. It takes him back to days ago when Mark had touched his lips and the river between them suddenly became cross-able. Donghyuck made a promise that day, to Mark, to himself — to start over.

“Yeah,” he gives a certain nod. “I want this.”

“Okay,” says the other. Something in the way Mark centers his attention on him tells that he believes in Donghyuck and it’s enough. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You can do this, relax.

You’ve got this, Donghyuck.

“Hello,” Donghyuck says, voice a bit shaky from rushing nervousness. “I— My name,” he pauses, eyes falling to his fumbling hands. 

Introducing himself shouldn’t be hard at all, but Donghyuck feels his ribs closing in. It’s hard because this is him letting down his guards. This is him tearing down his own walls. Reminding when it’s all said and done, Mark would be at the other end, waiting for him alongside an abundance of opportunities.

Donghyuck doesn’t need to rush. He’s got all the time in the world, Mark had told him. Donghyuck wants to trust him now.

He takes another deep breath through his nose, “Is Lee Donghyuck. My friends call me Donghyuck or Hyuck for short, or Hyuckie when they’re trying to get under my skin. I like singing and sunflowers, I adore sweaters, and dancing is my favorite thing in the world abutting Taeyeon and SHINee.”

Mark’s fond gaze steadies at him, offering a proud and warm smile that sends a gratifying static throughout Donghyuck’s body. “Very charming Lee Donghyuck. I’m Mark Lee, I like poetry and music more than I like hockey, nice to meet you.” He extends a hand and Donghyuck takes it almost immediately.

“Nice to meet you too, Mark.”

“Now,” Mark purses his lips, not letting go of Donghyuck’s hand. In lieu, he intertwines them and gives them a reassuring squeeze before bringing them to his lips. “If you’re ready, I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Only if you allow me to do the same,” Donghyuck plays along, butterflies crowding his stomach. He means it though, there’s been a drive to hear Mark talk about everything that is him for the past few days.

Mark leans closer to his knuckles, planting a featherlike kiss to it. His cheekbones prominent, toothy smile broadening, “I’d love to.”

Donghyuck inhales, once again, wafting the aroma of coffee and takes in their surroundings. The beginning of hustle in the shop, the chiming of bells as more people come in, the divine sunlight, and Mark’s promising brown eyes on him and him only. Love. Donghyuck wants to try that again.

Free laughter leaves his mouth as he stares back at Mark, feeling safe and secure, grinning so wide, his cheeks hurt. Donghyuck sighs happily, “Now where do I start…”