Archive of Our Own

Moonlight streamed through the open window as Mark restlessly tossed and turned, limbs entangled with his bedsheets. As exhausted as he felt, he couldn’t sleep, and there was one reason why. 

The schedule for the day was supposed to be a light-hearted school role play. This kind of content was normal for SM and he was at a point in his career where his years of experience could cover up his camera shyness. Despite this, he still felt his palms get sweaty when he heard the punishment suggestions for laughing begin rolling in. 

“Do the pepero game with someone you like," Donghyuck let out, soft and serious. Everyone broke into laughter, even going as far as quoting the time Yuta had picked himself to play the game with Mark. 

With an awkward smile and a chuckle, the gears in Mark’s brain had begun spinning. “How about this? Go in the back and keep your arms up ,” he had said, trying to change the subject. 

Of course Mark’s efforts failed because not even 10 minutes later, a pepero box was being ripped open as the group settled on their first two losers. 

When he’s with 127 he can’t help but get caught up in the energies they emit and that’s his explanation for why he acted the way he did. He watched eagerly with nervous fingertips gripped around his camera stick as Johnny and Donghyuck wrapped their mouths around opposite ends of a pepero stick. 

His breath faltered as he played up his character, pushing the camera farther into their space as they got closer and closer to the center. 

Now, he was burying his face in his pillow from embarrassment as he recalled how he egged them on.

“Can you go further in?" he remembered asking as others looked away and called for a halt. He watched through the LCD screen, following the taut line of Donghyuck’s uplifted jaw to his soft pink pout. They connected with Johnny’s softer features where the older boy leaned down, accommodating as always.  

Mark had a front-row view of the way their lips just barely pressed together before Johnny’s teeth were snapping through the chocolate stick and pulling away. He shouted and laughed like everyone else, but for the rest of the shoot, a strange feeling stuck to him, churning his stomach the way nerves before an important event usually did. 

He couldn’t ignore the fleeting thought he had before the game had ensued.  Maybe it would’ve been fun if I had been caught laughing instead of Johnny. 

"Fuck," Mark groaned as he held the cold pillow against his face. “I think I want to kiss Hyuck.”

Mark was feeling antsy to say the least. This new thought had invaded his mind, ever present like an itch that just wouldn’t go away. And what do you do with an itch? You scratch it. 

It’s not like Mark hadn’t kissed anyone before, he wasn’t that inexperienced. His first kiss was with a fellow trainee—both parties’ braces making it a metallic experience that they both would’ve liked to forget. 

And after a long shoot there was a backup dancer that he sloppily locked lips with in the bathroom of a barbecue joint during a celebratory night out. 

He wasn’t a stranger to kissing.

It’s not even like he hadn’t kissed other members of the group either. A few birthdays ago, Jaemin thought it was hilarious when he grabbed his cheeks and kissed him square on the mouth. Mark didn’t have time to react, not that he really wanted to kiss Jaemin, but his delayed response left Jaemin to pucker against stiff, slightly parted lips—not the ideal first kiss impression he was trying to give off. And on top of all that, Mark had felt like he wanted to melt into his seat at the embarrassment of everyone witnessing his shell-shocked expression and burning red cheeks.

There were many slightly—or very —intoxicated kisses he had shared with other members. Sometimes in the heat of the moment, or other times because that’s just how they felt like expressing their affection at that point in time. 

Him and Lucas had shared a kiss when staying in a house rented for SuperM; the taste of bitter beer lingered on the taller boy’s wet lips as his large, warm hands roamed under the back of Mark’s loose fitting hoodie. 

In full Jungwoo style, the older boy had planted himself in Mark’s lap, resting on their lumpy dorm couch, before throwing his arms around the younger boy’s neck and going at it. With no idea of how much time passed, they finally broke apart, panting for air and probably looking as disheveled as he felt. But they laughed at each other’s puffy, spit glistened mouths and settled into the sofa to give their attention back to whatever was playing on the television. 

It was natural. It was normal. 

It’s just—this was Donghyuck, the same Donghyuck that crawls into his bed in the wee hours of the night, dressed in a worn out t-shirt, hair sticking all directions while he mumbles something about Doyoung snoring through the walls. The same Donghyuck that winds his arms around Mark’s torso, fitting his head in the crook of Mark’s neck before letting out quiet snores as they both fall back into a warm, comfortable slumber. 

Donghyuck that finds Mark no matter what setting they’re in, no matter who they’re surrounded by. 

The same boy that first laid his eyes on Mark in a fluorescent lit practice room and said he was “cute” even though little Donghyuck was still all soft around the edges, chubby baby cheeks scrunching up as he beamed at the older boy. 

He had never kissed Donghyuck. He had never thought about kissing Donghyuck or thought that he wanted to kiss Donghyuck. But now here Mark was, unable to get out of his head the picture of Donghyuck’s plump, heart-shaped lips as they puckered around a chocolate stick, moving closer and closer to the pout of someone else. 

Now , all he could think about was kissing Donghyuck. 

Never did Mark think he would be laid in bed, squinting at the harsh blue light of his phone, as he read a 'WikiHow: to get your best friend to kiss you' article. Had he hit rock bottom?

Draw attention to your lips, he remembered the article telling him as he lapped away at a popsicle from the convenience store. 

Some of the other 127 members were sprawled out on the floor in various stages of exhaustion after a particularly grueling dance practice. Mark’s own shirt was drenched in sweat, sticking uncomfortably between his back and the floor to ceiling mirror behind him. 

Their manager had come back with a small plastic bag full of frozen treats and Mark thought nothing had ever worked in his favor better. 

His lips were polished as he wrapped them around the base of the popsicle, trying to keep the accumulating melted liquid from dripping down his fingers. It was almost obscene the way he was going at this popsicle. If he saw himself, he’d think he was crazy, but Mark had been feeling far from sane these days. 

Hyuck was sitting next to him, damp hair falling in his eyes as he looked down at his pint of ice cream, tongue sticking out while he focused on digging his spoon in. 

Mark held back a frustrated groan as the boy’s attention didn’t waver from his own dessert. 

He rested the popsicle on his lips, gently gliding it side to side, leaving sticky cherry red in its wake before he licked it up. His thoughts wandered, pondering what it’d be like if it was someone else licking— cold showers, ice baths, jumping into a pool in the winter, slipping into a frozen lake.

A chill ran down his spine as he successfully diverted his thoughts from forcing his body into an inconvenient situation. Although he still spared a glance down at his black track pants, just to be safe. 

"Malllk.” A whine broke him from his bubble. 

“Huh?” His ears were burning, his own guilty punishment for letting his mind go where it shouldn’t. He turned to the source of the noise, startled by the other boy’s proximity to his face. 

“I asked if I could taste yours.”

Mark nearly choked. He felt a pain in his chest, close to a heart attack he was sure—not that he had ever experienced the real thing, but this was definitely what he thought it would feel like. 

But no, he was too young, he was too young to go like this. 

He took a breath, and collected himself. “What?” 

That was the best he could come up with. 

Donghyuck huffed, rolling his eyes before he pointed at the popsicle, long forgotten, now dripping red over Mark’s fingers. “Give me a bite!” His small hand was now wrapped around Mark’s wrist, avoiding the scarlet colored goo, and yanking it towards him. 

Mark could hear it in his head. A rock and roll song from an 80s hair band playing, heavy metal guitars screeching, accompanying the beating of a drum kit while the lead singer sang lyrics most definitely objectifying women with strange metaphors of food and other kitchen supplies. 

The music videos usually had a scantily clad woman doing some kind of suggestive dance or maybe sprawled out on top of a car. But in this moment, in Mark’s twisted little mind, Donghyuck was the star of the show. 

There were fireworks going off in the background and million watt light bulbs illuminating him from every angle as the music played in his dirty imagination. Donghyuck’s grip was tight on his wrist as his plush lips wrapped around the cherry red popsicle, sliding farther and farther down. Farther than Mark’s perverted little brain should ever have been allowed a view of, before biting down and pulling back off.

Mark’s lips were slightly parted, paralyzed in a gasp, too breathless for anyone to hear. 

Donghyuck hummed as he munched on the frozen ice before pausing to blow out a cold puff of breath when the temperature in his mouth was too much to bear. Mark was fixated on his lips; his heart shaped pout now tinted a faint cherry color.

“Eh, it’s not that good,” he said around a slush of ice. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the rest before turning his attention back to his plastic spoon. 

If this was a cartoon, Mark would be covered in black soot with only a few strands of fried hair left on his head. His plan had blown up right in his face. 

Accepting defeat, he shook himself from his thoughts, content with finishing his popsicle and returning to the dorms to sulk. Before he could do so, his jaw dropped. “You practically ate the whole thing just to say 'it’s not that good ’?”

A sweet honey-like laugh drifted to his ears as Donghyuck met his eyes, crinkled up to accompany the mischievous smile painted across his face. 

Damn WikiHow. Damn WikiHow. 

“Make your lips look appealing ,” Mark told his mirror reflection in a mocking tone. "Nobody wants to kiss dry, crusty lips." He watched the pinched expression on his face as he pulled the cap off of his lip balm off with a satisfying pop. 

He twisted the base of the pastel colored tube, making light pink wax peek out from the top. With it came the sweet sugar smell of cotton candy, a snack that Donghyuck loved to indulge in. He would pinch at it, fingers disappearing in-between his lips before coming back out; his fingers would glisten in the light, shiny and wet with only hints of crystalized pink sugar left behind— cold showers, ice baths, jumping into a pool in the winter, slipping into a frozen lake.

Phew.

The wax slid on thick and smooth over his mouth. Hesitantly, he ran his tongue over his lips, picking up a taste reminiscent of artificial sweetener.  

This better work.

And when it didn’t work he tried a lip balm with a bit of a tint, just to make his mouth look that much more enticing. In nature, pretty colors are meant to lure things in, right?

Wrong. Well, maybe not for birds and flowers and other things that mother nature graced with beauty. And maybe Mark had dozed off in one too many science lessons, but at this point he had to assume mate selection pressures were not in his favor. 

When tinted lip balm didn’t work he tried gloss. 

First just clear gloss that came out of a little pinched squeeze tube. He had hastily grabbed it from the counter of a convenience store on one of his late night snack runs. Something to make his lips look slick like he’d just wet them. Something that would catch the light, and  hopefully  the attention of his target. 

And when that didn’t work he tried full on wand in a tube lip gloss, the color and scent akin to those pink watermelon slice candies that Donghyuck was constantly stealing from him. 

He finally called it quits when Donghyuck asked, “Did you eat something greasy, Mel?”, before reaching over to try and dab at his mouth with a wadded up napkin.

Fuck you, WikiHow.

Mark tried his best to come up with every rational explanation for why, after all these years, Donghyuck hasn’t kissed him. The younger boy was known for being extremely affectionate with people he was comfortable with, and Mark was happy to be on the receiving end. But where other members got nose rubs and soft pecks, Mark got... hugs.

Maybe his breath was bad? Maybe his teeth were gunky and unappealing?

He chewed gum, sucked on mints, even improved his oral routine to the point that his dentist noticed an impressive change. 

Nothing. No minty exhale of breath was enough to entice his prey into indulging him in a kiss. He was sick of it. 

“Do you want a bite, Milk?” Donghyuck asked as he held up a pair of chopsticks. 

Mark scrunched his nose as the strong smell of garlic and chili wafted through the air. “No thanks, Hyuck.”

Ugh.

At this point, Mark was desperate. 

For him , this was forward, he thought as the other dream members huddled around the oval shaped coffee table in their living room. It was usually crowded with remotes and controllers and old takeout containers, but they had made an effort to wipe it clean, replacing the mess with a shiny green glass at Mark’s suggestion of spin the bottle. 

After Jisung’s coming of age, bottles of soju had become a staple in the dreamies’ fridge. They were already a few bottles in to take off the jitters, cheeks flushing at the warmth emanating from the alcohol pumping through them. 

It wasn’t often that they got to gather like this; it took some whining in the groupchat and cute emoticons, but now they were all together. Even Chenle who doesn’t live in the dorms was the last to join them in the circle, hair damp from the shower and oversized shirt hanging low around his knees—clearly Jisung’s. 

Okay, maybe the suggestion of spin the bottle wasn’t  that  forward, but for Mark this was practically him begging on his knees with a neon sign spelling out “Donghyuck, can I kiss you?”

Now here they were, Mark gulped. He mentally cursed himself for not researching the statistical relationship between bottle spinning and seat placement as Donghyuck plopped down on the couch next to him, fresh can of beer in hand. “Alright, who’s going first?” he asked, sing-songing the end of his question. 

And oh what did Mark get himself into?

Everything was light and fun and happy. Cheeks were burning pink and they had the protection of not knowing whether it was from the alcohol or the nerves. Probably both. 

The bottle spun around and around, dizzyingly reminding Mark of the wheel game he used to play at carnivals when he was younger. Those games were—supposed to be—based on luck and he felt as wishful as he did back then, palms just as sweaty, heart beating just as fast.

There was something melodic in the sound of the glass whirring against the wooden table. It was soothing in the way that it brought Mark down to Earth, grounding him when his burning mind was floating in the space above him like a hot air balloon.   

Mark giggled as Jeno planted a kiss square against Jisung’s forehead, the younger boy puffing out his cheeks as he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. 

The energy in the room was tangible as everyone was caught up in laughter and veiled anticipation. Before the room could settle, Jaemin’s long fingers impatiently reached out for the bottle, eager to find his next victim. The bottle spun, slowing down until Mark’s roaming eyes could make out the characters printed on the white label. 

It wasn’t like Mark had expected to just spin the bottle, land on Donghyuck, and then call it quits for the night. He had braced himself, expecting to have to pucker up to someone else at some point of the night. Although, he had optimistically hoped fate would work out in his favor. 

Angular momentum finally giving out, the bottle settled in its place, metallic green bottle cap pointing right at Mark. He gulped as the tips of his ears began to burn. When he lifted his eyes, Jaemin was already looking like he was ready to devour. “Ahh Hyung, come on. Let’s make this one better than the last.”

His eyes drifted over to the boy beside him, thrown back against the corner of the couch as he erupted into laughter. 

Mark wasn’t into Jaemin like that. He couldn’t deny that the guy had perfect features and a personality that had always made Mark feel comfortable, but he didn’t like Jaemin like that. 

However, when you’re kissed the way that Mark was just kissed, it’s impossible to  not  feel something. 

There was something skin-tingling in the way he felt manhandled when Jaemin firmly gripped his shoulders, yanked him into his space, and planted a big fat one on him. When they pulled apart, Mark’s lips were left moisturized by strawberry flavored chapstick that wasn’t his. 

As much as he didn’t want to sit there like a dumbstruck fool like the last time Jaemin kissed him, he was left numbed by the alcohol and the staticky feeling on his lips. So he just chuckled to himself when Jaemin mumbled to the group that at least this time it didn’t feel like he was kissing a dead fish. 

As drinks kept getting tipped back, they ran the risk of witnessing—or partaking in—steamier kisses. 

Mark hid his face in a pillow, laughs muffled by the soft cotton as he watched his members sucking each other's faces. 

He had prepared himself to kiss other people. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was witnessing the only other person in the world that he wanted to kiss right now  Donghyuck kissing other people. It was fine when it was an innocent smooch with Chenle, a kiss on the cheek from Jisung, even when the kiss between him and Renjun lasted more than a few seconds, it was fine, Mark was fine. 

Donghyuck had a glazed over look in his eye, hanging off of Mark’s side as he lightly swayed to the music playing in the background. His giggles smelled like sweet fruits, a contrast to the slightly bitter scent of hops that lingered after he made comments about the interactions between members. “Ya, Chenle get off of him!” he laughed as he pushed himself forward on the couch. “My turn.”

Mark held his breath as Hyuck’s petite hand reached out to spin the soju bottle. He felt almost hypnotized with how hard he was staring at the glass, willing the universe to please let it land on me, please let it land on me.

Clearly, the universe didn’t understand the rules of spin the bottle, when he got the butt of the glass. Jeno got the shining bottlecap, sparkling beautifully under the light just like the boy making his way around the table, corners of his lips quirking up in a smile. 

“Let’s give them a show, Jen.”

Something sick twisted in his stomach, painfully reminiscent of the way he felt in the school room set. He watched bitterly as Donghyuck wrapped a hand around the back of Jeno’s neck, bitten fingernails just barely visible where they peeked out under Jeno’s dyed blue hair. Mark fixated on the way Donghyuck’s track pants stretched as he hovered over where the older boy was sitting criss-crossed—close but not touching. Their heads molded together as slick lips melted against each other, parting only milimeters to get into better positioning. 

Jeno’s skin was fair against the dark color of Donghyuck’s hoodie. It was impossible to ignore the path his hands took, dragging along the soft cotton before settling on the small of Donghyuck’s back. 

Similarly, Donghyuck’s fingers were lost in the dark brown of Jeno’s hair. Mark couldn’t tear his eyes away from observing the way Donghyuck’s fingers curled up, tugging at the strands the way everyone knew Jeno liked.  

Mark felt the bile churning in his stomach, unable to swallow down around the large lump in his throat as he watched. 

Finally, Jeno pressed a hand against the younger’s chest, breaking them apart as they both panted lightly. Jaemin was whistling loudly and Renjun was shouting something into a pillow but Mark could barely hear them over the loud ringing in his ears. 

“I think we better call it a night, Jisung’s gone.” They turned their heads to see the gangly boy sprawled out on the floor beside the table, giggling at nothing with a spaced out look in his eye. He seemed to come to, holding out his long arms before making grabby motions for Chenle to yank him up. 

Mark scooted forward on the couch, craning his neck to get closer so his whisper could be heard. “Jaemin, is it ok if I stay in your room tonight?” 

The boy nodded before his mouth formed a smirk. “Oh the kiss was that good Markie?” He winked, pink lips making a smooching noise before he pushed himself up, stumbling over his own feet as he led them to his room. Mark followed after him, saying his goodnights to those that were coherent enough to hear. 

Just before he entered into Jaemin’s room, he peered back, timing barely allowing him a glimpse of Donghyuck’s black hoodie slinking through Jeno’s open door. 

After a long schedule, Mark had been dozing in and out of sleep, mind left hazy as he was able to do nothing for the rest of the day. The air in his bedroom was hot with a dampness only familiar in the transition from winter to spring. He could feel the way the hairs framing his face were matted to his skin, much like the way a baby wakes up after a long sleep—sweaty from their own body heat. 

His mind felt fuzzy as he slowly blinked his eyes open. Deep orange rays were leaking in through the open window; warm colors fighting against the cool blue of the mounted tv playing an old anime. 

A weight on his bed shifted, giving rise to the light crinkling sound of his heavy duvet. The fog of his mind cleared as a muffled crunch reached his ears. 

With heavy limbs, tingling numbness brought on by their inactivity, Mark pushed himself to sit up before lifting a fist to rub the sleep out of his eyes. His fingers grazed the taut skin of his cheek, feeling the warm indents the creases of his pillowcase had made on his sleeping face. 

"Oh, you’re awake," a voice said, or attempted to say but was terribly distorted by a mouthful of food. 

From his hunched over position—his legs laying dead sprawled out in front of him—he turned to look at the boy beside him. Donghyuck was sitting, propped up with Mark’s spare pillow. Laying in-between his long tan legs was a large bag of chips, the colorful design a stark contrast to the gray shorts he was wearing. 

“How long have you been here?” Mark’s voice was deep with sleep, giving him a rumbling feeling in his chest as he spoke. “And how many times have I told you to stop eating in my bed?”

He scrunches his nose as Donghyuck waves a chip in his face, his own version of a peace offering as he ignored the older’s reprimanding. “I don’t know. Maybe an hour?” 

Mark yawned, feeling groggy like he could put his head back down and fall right back to sleep. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

The bed shifted as Donghyuck shrugged. “I could hear your throat was a little scratchy earlier,” he paused, holding his breath as the character on screen began battling, “I figured you needed the rest.”

Mark’s body swayed slightly as he tried to come to his senses. 

“Are you hungry? Auntie made some food earlier but I told her you’d eat later.”

Mark didn’t need full brain function to know the answer to that question. He nodded before reaching out to the nightstand to place his glasses back on his face. 

The character on screen was still mid-battle but it was gone with a whoosh as the television screen shut down to black. “Come on,” Donghyuck said, shuffling off the bed and planting his feet to lend a guiding hand to the older boy. 

Mark’s neurons fired a few extra signals as his sweaty palm met the younger boy’s hand, allowing himself to be dragged from the small crater he’d made in the bed. He felt fully awake, alive, and alert as he was guided out of the room—Donghyuck’s hand not breaking contact with his. “Stay here,” he said, leaving Mark to sit at the kitchen table. 

And with that, he was gone, only a tingling feeling in Mark’s fingertips left in his wake.  

Donghyuck returned to the table, bringing with him a cloud of warmth and the smell of reheated fried pork. A light metallic sound clanked through the room as he set down a pair of chopsticks. 

“ Oh ,” he quietly mumbled to himself, the vocalization of his remembering. He pitter pattered away, disappearing back into the kitchen before returning with side dishes and sauces and anything else he thought Mark might need or want. 

Mark’s ears burned as he felt himself being pampered over. “Thanks.”

Mark Lee, you dunce. You’re in some deep shit. You have a crush on your best friend.

Mark loves reading. Almost as much as he loves writing. He was always his language arts teachers’ favorite student and he had become a shy, giggling mess the first time he received a comment scribbled in red ballpoint pen on an assignment saying he “had a way with words”. 

He could get lost in his imagination—and he often times does—and that’s what he deduces is the golden thread between his mind and the worlds written by himself and others. 

When he was really into YA novels, he’d imagine himself as the protagonist. He was always so close to being able to relate to stories about teenagers growing up in the suburbs, dealing with acne and relationships and the burden of parents who just don’t understand. Spending his developmental years under the spotlight was just another obstacle for his imagination to overcome.

He wasn’t in high school anymore, he wasn’t going through puberty, he had done his time with awkward braces and he finally found glasses that suited him, he had a good relationship with his parents and brother, he had a career and stable income, so he wasn’t struggling in any areas worthwhile, but boy if his love life wasn’t something straight from the pages of a book he’d read in middle school, he doesn’t know what would be. 

Too many times in secluded corners of the library and under the covers of his bed, he had hid away to turn page after page of complicated romance novels, and now he had become the star. In some twisted way was this his own self-imposed prophecy?

Oh how he wishes he would’ve invested his time into self-improvement books instead.

There’s a small handful of people that Mark will turn to in times of turmoil. However, each of those people specialize in different areas. 

Anything career or company related leads him straight to Taeyong. He’s their leader so of course it’s only natural and the way that things should go. 

When he’s struggling with confidence or his image—or the awkward time he needed to talk about sexuality—he goes to Yuta. There’s no one else as comfortable in their skin as him. Their relationship is his safe space. 

One of the people he relates to the most as much as he struggled to admit it is Donghyuck. Where Donghyuck is boisterous, he’s quiet. Where he’s impulsive, Mark is deliberate. However, they share two groups, and as the youngest of 127, they spend the most time together, often lumped whether they like it or not. When Mark needs someone who can listen and understand, that’s who he goes to. Where Donghyuck is exuberant with the rest of the world, he’s a closed mouth and open ear for Mark. 

Mark loves his older brother, but it’s difficult asking for advice from someone who’s on the other side of the world. When he needs something he’d usually turn to his brother for, Johnny’s just a few doors away. From their early days they bonded when Mark didn’t have to struggle through pronunciations or unknown words in their conversations. When he was homesick, needed health advice, or had girl problems, he knew where to go. Johnny was older, he had been there and done it all. 

This situation proved to be difficult when he needed advice and Johnny was part of the origin of his problem. The thing in this case that Johnny had ‘been there and done’ was what made him realize he had feelings for his best friend. 

But like any typical YA protagonist, think about what you don’t want and it’ll come. 

And that’s how he finds himself curling up as Johnny saunters across the room, finding his place on the couch cushion next to Mark’s feet. 

He can’t help the way his face scrunches and his brow furrows at the sight of the man in front of him. The only thing he can see when he looks at him is Johnny, eye’s closed, moving further and further down a Pepero stick. 

“What are you watching?” Johnny asks, unaware of the boy about to angrily burn through the cushion beside him. 

“I don’t know, it was just on,” Mark mumbles as his cheek rests against the palm of his hand. 

Apparently his tone alone was enough to catch Johnny’s attention because he turns his head, hair swishing behind him. “What’s wrong?”

Mark startles, feeling as though he’s been caught. “Nothing.”

“Why do you have pissy face?” He jumps a bit as Johnny snaps the elastic ankle of his sweatpants, letting out a dull thump. 

“I do not.” Mark’s mouth turns into a scowl before realizing he’s giving into Johnny’s claim. He makes a conscious effort to smooth out his expression. “And stop acting like—”, he’s cut off as Johnny launches himself across the couch, long fingers digging into the soft flesh of his sides. 

Johnny’s unrelenting in his attack as his hands make their way up Mark’s torso, jabbing into his armpits as the younger boy squirms below him. “If you don’t tell me I’m actually going to make you piss.”

“Stop, stop.” Mark’s body is tense as he tries to kick his feet at Johnny. His mouth is letting out incoherent sounds as he attempts to resist the tickles but nothing’s working. 

Mark’s never been a quitter. He’s always been persistent and stubborn when he wants to be. But if there were ever a time he’d throw in the towel, it’s now. 

“Ok fine, I’ll tell you.” He catches his breath before rearranging his disheveled self. 

Johnny retracts, sitting back with a satisfied smirk below his half moon eyes. 

“What was it like kissing Donghyuck?”

“I knew that was what this was about.”

Mark groans as Johnny laughs, falling back into the couch cushions. 

“It wasn’t even serious, Mark. It was just a game,” Johnny says, pushing his hair back although the light brown strands fall forward again. 

“But it still,” Mark waves his hands around, "happened."

“Hardly,” Johnny’s cheeks are red from lack of oxygen as he continues to speak through laughter, “but if you want to know what it’s like,” he leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper, “just do it yourself.”

Mark pushes him with a palm against his chest and Johnny falls back against the couch, shoulders shaking with chuckles. “Forget I ever asked.”

“No, seriously. He’ll kiss you if you ask.”

“It’s not that simple, Hyung.” Mark buries his face in his hands as he burns in shame. “I don’t wanna just kiss. I want to like—”

“Sex?”

"No!" Mark groans again. “I mean, maybe, but no! Not right now. I want to do things the right way. I think I like him.” He pauses, feeling the weight of this moment. He’s finally coming to terms. “I like him. Not the way we all like him. But I want to hold his hand, kiss him, go on dates and stuff. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Johnny’s smirk is as wide as his face and he crosses his arms against his chest. “Because you’re finally realizing.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when we shared a hotel room during the U.S. leg?” Mark nods. “And you kept me up all night because you wouldn’t stop complaining about how Haechan kept making eye contact and lingering in front of that one fan with the long hair. You kept saying it was ‘unprofessional’.” Mark nods again. “Remember when Haechan was cuddling with Taeil, the way he does with everyone, and you were mad because he ‘shouldn’t have been acting like that on camera’?” Mark nods. “Remember when one of his classmates gave him Pepero and you scolded him for half an hour?”

“Well he shouldn’t have accepted them.”

“He didn’t accept them.”

Mark flounders. “Well he made it seem like it was okay for her to  offer  them to him didn’t he?”

Johnny rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get the point.” The hair that’s fallen over his forehead flutters as Mark huffs out a breath. He feels his determination burning inside of him again and decides to use the situation to his advantage. “Hyung, do you think he likes me too?”

Johnny looks at him with a tilt of his head. “You know it’s not my place to tell you things like that.”

“You kissed him.” Mark sets his jaw defiantly. “It’s the least you could do.  Ouch! ” 

His hand flies up to hold his forehead as Johnny stands up from the couch, satisfied with how he flicked the younger boy. “That’s what you get,” he says, wagging a finger. He raises a hand to cup his chin as he quirks an eyebrow, as if deep in thought. “You know what? I think I have a brand new box of Pepero in our room. I wonder what time Haechan gets back from practice?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right. But you better do something about this, Mark Lee.”

The recipe for disaster hits its boiling point one day in the subterranean practice rooms of SM’s main building.

After a quick back and forth of snappy retorts and condescending replies, Mark had unwillingly decided to stay back with Donghyuck even though it was deep into the early hours of the morning and they both knew they had a busy schedule ahead of them. 

The thing about these basement practice rooms was that they were known for their poor airflow. Even though there was a lack of windows to let in sunlight that would warm the room, the vents and circulation didn’t take the heat production of sweaty bodies into account. It was usually young trainees that would inhabit these basement rooms and SM couldn’t be bothered to spend more money on them to fix this issue, so instead it was consoled with haphazardly placed tower fans. 

Even then, the weak blow of cool air couldn’t evaporate the beads of sweat pouring down Donghyuck’s honey colored skin, rendering his oversized white t-shirt nearly see through. 

Even then, the weak blow of cool air couldn’t soothe Mark’s burning skin as it crawled uncomfortably, making him itch while he tried to pull his eyes away from the way the shirt was sticking to Donghyuck’s soft curves. 

“You’ve done the moves the right way at least ten times now—” He temporarily loses his train of thought, gone with the sway of Donghyuck’s hips. “Can we please go?” 

He watches as the boy presses his petite hands against his chest, dragging them down, down. His body rolls on beat with the music, hands reaching the waistband of his track pants, leaving the drenched shirt stuck to his torso. They keep going and Mark gulps dryly as he watches the way the golden boy’s head tips back, eyes closed as his hands continue to travel farther and farther down. 

“I did it wrong, twenty times. I need to make sure I won’t forget,” he says as he catches his breath before moving onto the next steps. 

Mark has felt himself toeing the invisible line. Whatever’s on the other side is so tempting. What was once a spontaneous want to know what his friend’s lips pressed against his felt like turned into something more. He’s not sure how he got here or rather if he’s been here all along. 

What he mistook for a jealousy fueled desire for affection was really a contained calm burning to care and be cared for. He didn’t want this to be just a drunken glide of lips on lips. He wanted Donghyuck. He wanted to do this right. 

But then again, Mark is Mark. A blubbering mess, attempting to be held together with cautiously placed tape and clips. Mark is Mark whose emotions and intentions fought within him, trying to burst out and see the light of day. His language arts teacher said he had a way with words, but they must’ve omitted the condition stating his words were best expressed with pen on paper. 

“Hyuck, why have you never kissed me?” 

The jolting sound of Donghyuck’s sneaker skidding to a stop against the glossy wood floor is jarring. The title song for their next comeback continues to blast harshly through the room, but Donghyuck stays frozen in place making Mark feel almost suffocated by silence. 

“Huh?” He can barely hear said over the heavy bass vibrating around him. 

His sweaty hands slip across the slick polyester material of his pants. The music sharply cuts off, giving him the nudge he needs to continue. “I just mean,” Donghyuck’s eyes meet his through the mirror, “you’re really affectionate with everyone else. And I know we like, cuddle and stuff. But it just—” Mark pulls his eyes away. The fire he feels under the younger’s gaze is too much to add onto the burning he feels across his face. “It just feels like you’ve kissed everyone but me.” He weakly trails off, “I just want to know why.” 

Donghyuck’s shoes squeak against the floor again as he spins in place. From under his bangs Mark can see the scuffed up toes pointing at him now. 

The silence is replaced with a light giggle which quickly grows stronger in strength and depth, and Mark can’t help the burning tears that begin to pool. He remembers his first evaluation at SM. His voice had cracked and all the people watching had laughed. Shame and embarrassment had overflowed the way they were doing now. He’s always shown his emotions before he could begin to express them, and now, he had made a fool of himself. 

“Just forget it.” He roughly rubs the sleeve of his hoodie against his eyes, leaving his skin feeling raw from the abrasion. His chest rises and falls as he pushes himself up from the floor looking for an escape. 

Before he can rush out of the room, a tug on his sleeve stops him. “Wait, wait.” 

And he’s never been able to say no to Donghyuck. “I’m sorry,” the weight doesn’t leave his sleeve, “I’m just laughing because I didn’t think it was about me. Honestly Jaehyun was my first guess and then maybe Jeno but I thought there was no way you guys hadn’t before. Then I thought maybe not NCT, but who else do you hang out with—” 

Mark’s ears ring as Donghyuck continues to ramble to himself. He finally lifts his eyes to once again rest on the younger boy. “You didn’t think what was about you?” 

Donghyuck’s head is tilted as he peers at Mark. Hesitantly, almost as if he’s scared Mark is going to dash off like a deer in headlights. “You know I like to use your laptop to watch shows, right Mark?”

Mark nods. 

Donghyuck’s smile looks like it’s about to split his face into two. “Well you should think about closing tabs you don’t want other people to see.” 

Fuck. 

“Wikihow isn’t the first place I would go if I wanted to kiss my best friend.” His eyes are crinkled to match his shit-eating grin. “I’m not saying I haven’t tried it,” he waves his hand flippantly, “it’s just not the most helpful. I’ve only been trying to get my best friend to kiss me for the past five years though, so what do I know?” 

Mark barely has time to process the information before he feels light hands on his face, completely unaware of how the space between them has diminished. Everything inside him goes numb as soft lips press against his. 

If there’s one thing about Mark Lee, it’s that he knows how to seize the moment. 

He wraps his hands around the younger’s waist, using his strength to pull him closer, eliciting a gasp from Donghyuck’s mouth. 

Their lips press and glide as they explore uncharted territory. As intoxicated as Mark feels by the sensations, he tries to remember this moment. The way Donghyuck tastes like the blue raspberry drink he chugged during practice. The way the oversized t-shirt sticks to his skin as Mark’s hands press to his sides and roam around his back. The chill that runs down his spine as he feels Donghyuck’s petite fingers making their way into his hair before they give a light tug to the soft strands.

Finally they break apart, foreheads resting against each other as they pant for air. “Mark Lee, you are so dense.”

Mark stirs slightly as his groggy mind becomes more alert in response to soft kisses being peppered against his exposed cheek and forehead. He doesn’t need to look at the clock to know it’s too early to be awake. He stretches out an arm, blindly pulling the warm body beside him in tighter, tucked away safely under his chin. He presses his lips into messy hair and smiles at the airy giggle released in response. 

It’s not like Mark’s never kissed anyone before, he’s not that inexperienced. But now he knows what his best friend’s lips feel like pressed against his. He knows what it’s like to hold palms together and feel grounded against strong winds in the alleys at night. He knows what it’s like to wake up and feel a head on his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He knows what it’s like to whisper promises of the future as he watches the way the moonlight reflects against chocolate brown irises. 

When their eyes meet across crowded practice rooms, he doesn’t have to wonder what feelings the other’s gaze holds. He knows they’re on the same page, and maybe they have been for longer than either of them could know.

If Mark doesn’t kiss anyone else but Donghyuck ever again, he’s alright with that.