Work Text:
“You’re joking, right?”
“Mark-”
“No, because I - fuck, fuck my entire life.”
Mark lays on the floor of his empty apartment, taking his phone with him. It’s on speakerphone and Johnny’s excuses fill the space where Mark’s furniture used to be. The moving company had come by earlier to get everything, leaving Mark with a suitcase, an air mattress, and a fish tank.
Enough to tide him over until Johnny’s flight was supposed to have gotten here so that they could drive the five days from his old LA apartment to Toronto together.
LA had treated Mark well the last few years.
Just as Seoul had treated him well the ten years before that.
But the urge to move had been itching under his skin for far too long, so when his agent had insisted that there was a TV show he would be perfect for ready to shoot its pilot in Toronto Mark had jumped on the chance.
The only problem that had presented itself in all of this was the drive.
A drive that he was supposed to be doing with his hyung, reconnecting after not having seen each other in nearly a year.
“I’ll buy you a plane ticket to Toronto to make it up to you,” Johnny offers.
“I don’t need your money, hyung,” Mark says. Not bothering to point out that out of the two of them Mark makes a lot more as an actor than Johnny does as a radio DJ. “I’ll just do the drive myself.”
Five days.
Alone.
In his car.
Well, not technically alone-
“You’re really going to drive all the way out here yourself?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Why don’t you just find some kid in LA to take the fish? I’ll even buy you a new one once you’re up in Canada as an apology.”
“I don’t want a new fish,” Mark explains, something he knows that he has explained this to Johnny before. “I want this fish.”
His hyung doesn’t understand, and there’s been too many years between them, too much distance that never used to be there when they were younger for Mark to even begin to explain.
“It’s like an emotional support animal,” Mark tries. “A therapy thing. If I can keep the fish alive, then I can keep myself alive.”
Johnny makes a noise that’s a mix of concern and pity before asking - “Have you already figured out a new therapy situation for when you’re in Toronto.”
Mark really hadn’t been looking forward to having a mental health discussion with Johnny. Sure he had assumed one would have come during their drive, but over the phone with half a country in between them and a storm keeping Johnny’s plane grounded for the next two days, is less than ideal.
“Sort of.”
“I worry about you.”
“That’s not your job.”
“Honestly, I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you just waited for me to fly there in a few days or flew out by yourself.”
“If I wait too long my furniture will beat me there,” Mark replies. Having already determined as much himself. “And if I fly there I kill the fish. I have to do it this way. I have no choice.”
Johnny doesn’t answer for a moment.
Long enough that Mark has almost convinced himself that he’s hung up.
But then he says, “I have another idea, but you’re not going to like it.”
“Why won’t I like it?”
“I know you two haven’t talked in years, not since well before the two of us left Seoul, but… He owes me a favor and is actually in LA right now working on a new song. He kept joking about making a stop in Chicago before heading home to say hi, but this could actually work perfectly, the two of you could drive to me, then he could fly out of O'Hare to go back home, and I could finish the drive with you.”
Johnny is talking so fast, clearly excited by this new idea of his that Mark can feel himself getting his hopes up too.
It all hinges on one thing - “Who?”
“That’s the part you’re not going to like.”
“Why?”
“Haechan.”
*
The thing is Mark’s shit at communication.
He always has been.
And the universe is shit with timings.
So it’s not like he had intended to leave the country the week before Donghyuck’s birthday without telling him anything.
It had just happened that way.
The fact that Donghyuck has had his phone number blocked for the last three years is just a horrible coincidence.
It takes some work, Johnny hanging up on him presumably to call Donghyuck and get him to unblock Mark’s number so that the group chat can be made.
But eventually, the texts come in.
Johnny-Hyung has named the conversation “Remember You Both Owe Me A Favor”
Johnny-Hyung
Okay everything’s settled and I’ve just emailed you both the original travel plans
Play nice until you get to Chicago
:)
Mark
uh hi
i guess
but seriously you don’t need to do this
you can tell hyung no lol
Johnny-Hyung
No you can’t :)
You still owe me, this is me cashing in that favor
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER
this is your ONE favor hyung
you only get one (1) and it is being used
Mark
seriously lol
i can drive myself
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER
i still dont get why youre not just flying there
this is a Long Ass Drive lol get it???
Johnny-Hyung
I explained this. Multiple times :)
Mark
the smiley face is actually terrifying
Johnny-Hyung
as it should be bro
Mark
the bro does not make me less scared haha
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER
is anyone going to actually answer the question or
we just ignoring me :(((( huh
okay good chat
Mark
sorry so yeah it is a fish
but yeah its a therapy thing
again, i can just drive myself
you can say no lol
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER
you didnt say no when you heard it was me that hyung was gonna ask so
Fuck it
text me your address
I’ll be there tomorrow morning
Johnny-Hyung
Be nice to each other okay?
Mark
yes hyung
DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER
ill try lol
*
Mark fully expects Donghyuck not to bother showing up.
For him to have said all that in the moment, caught up in whatever dirt it is that their hyung has on him to make Donghyuck owe Johnny a favor.
They haven’t seen each other in years and the last time hadn’t ended well, but…
Regardless, Mark has to start the drive today.
He’s got the car loaded up, his suitcase in the back, air mattresses folded as best he could into its box, the fish in a plastic back inside of the fishbowl, inside of a box filled with bubble wrap to keep the little guy as safe as possible.
He’s about as ready as he’ll ever be.
Or he had thought, until an uber had pulled up in front of his house, to reveal a face that he hadn’t seen in three years.
Donghyuck has got a backpack over one shoulder, black sunglasses covering up his eyes, his hair a mess of dark curls finally starting to grow back after having been shaved down for two years.
He’s so familiar still after all these years that a part of Mark physically aches at the sight of him.
At the way, Donghyuck’s lips quirk up just a little into a smile as he asks, “Miss Me?”
*
The thing about the two of them is that it’s complicated.
It’s always been complicated.
Just like it’s always been them .
Ever since they were kids they were always together, grouped together so often that the few days and projects that they had separately felt jarring and wrong.
Mark and Donghyuck.
Donghyuck and Mark.
That’s how it had always been.
How it was always supposed to be.
Donghyuck used to jokingly call them soulmates, because of how often they always ended up together.
At some point, Mark had stopped considering it a joke, though he had never really been able to pinpoint when until it was too late.
He wished he could say that he didn’t know what happened, what tore the two of them apart, but he knows all too well.
Has spent long enough blaming himself, thinking about what he would say if he ever got the chance to talk to Donghyuck again.
Now, with Donghyuck in the passenger seat of Mark’s Honda Civic, he can’t think of any of those words.
But he’s got a thirty-seven hour drive split up over a few days to figure it out.
“Why is America so fucking big,” is the first thing Donghyuck says to him, after nearly an hour of driving, with the only noise before that having been the sound of the GPS directing them to to the hotel that Johnny had already paid for guiding them.
They used to talk about things like this, road trips, vacations, that they would take if they could have traveled without being recognized.
Here in the great expanse of America Mark is certain that nobody would recognize Donghyuck, at least. Even back at the height of their popularity, America had always been a place easy enough to slide through the gaps without being noticed.
Too many people not bothering to look, not even knowing what to look for.
Mark might have less luck, he’d been getting a lot of “Hey, aren’t you that guy they cast in the Glee reboot?” lately.
“Do you want the history lesson answer or the science class answer?”
“Both.”
“Plate tectonics, technically,” Mark replies. “But uh colonization, I think, accounts for most of it.”
“Huh.”
*
“Oat Milk,” Donghyuck questions, finally speaking up again, after Mark has ordered them both coffees to make this drive a bit more bearable.
“Uh, yeah,” Mark replies, sipping his iced coffee. “It tasted better than Soy and Almond.”
Donghyuck lets out a disbelieving huff of air, before saying, “You have a preference for your milk alternatives, wow, California really changed you.”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” Mark says, “Always have been.”
Donghyuck shrugs. “You expect me to remember your weird dietary restrictions?”
Mark knows that logically this is a dumb thing to feel defensive over, but he can’t help it, Donghyuck has always brought of this side of him.
Everything used to be a fight.
For years it had ended in tears and slammed doors.
And then with kissing to shut each other up.
And now…
“It’s not weird ,” Mark insists. “I have an allergy, plenty of people are lactose intolerant, that’s not-“
“Whatever.”
*
America has a lot of empty stretches of land.
Miles and miles of it, to the point of absurdity.
A fact that rings home for Mark after hours of driving in near silence, the only real sound the GPS and the distant hum of whatever radio station Mark had managed to get to play at any given point in time.
He could have just played music from his phone, but lately all he’s been listening to the same few songs on repeat, and even if he mixed things up he’s sure Donghyuck would have only spoken to insult his music taste.
A common occurrence in the past.
They make it to Vegas, probably could have gone farther, but the itinerary that Johnny had carefully made back when it was supposed to be him and Mark on this trip had said to stop here for the night, and with reservations already made at a hotel on the strip, who was he to say no.
He’s never been a fan of gambling, or of drinking to excess, both of which Vegas prides itself on, but in another life had this trip went as planned he probably would have enjoyed this stop a lot. Maybe got just a bit too tipsy and spilled some of the things that have been burdening him for the last three years.
Instead, the hotel suite seems too small with just Mark and Donghyuck here.
He watches as Donghyuck cracks open a drink from the minibar, over-priced and a waste, but fuck it isn’t everything in this city. He’s laying on one of the beds in his day clothes still, texting on his phone and really doing a stellar job of ignoring Mark, as he had for the entire journey so far.
Mark’s not sure what the difference between having Donghyuck with him and driving alone really is. Donghyuck doesn’t have an American license, can’t take part in the drive, so there goes that benefit. And he hasn’t been talking much either, no way of distracting Mark from his thoughts and in fact, if anything having Donghyuck around makes him think more.
A dangerous thing.
Mark downs one of the mini shots of vodka in the fridge to take off the edge before he busies himself setting up the fish tank.
“This is all your fault,” Mark whispers to the goldfish.
He doesn’t reply, because he's a fish.
But he does swim a loop around the tiny travel bowl in what Mark likes to imagine is sympathy.
“Do you remember, Taeyong-hyung used to have a whole tank back in the dorms,” Donghyuck asks.
Like it’s been that long.
Like Mark could have forgotten everything when he left.
Like - “Yeah, I remember.”
“The filter was loud as fuck,” Donghyuck says. “I swear I can still hear it sometimes when I try to sleep.”
“The one I brought for the trip isn’t that loud,” Mark replies.
Donghyuck nods, “What’s its name?”
“His,” Mark corrects. Not that really knows the gender of the goldfish, Mark’s not actually sure how to tell. “And Goldie.”
The lie is a practiced one.
Because the truth is-
“That’s a dumb name.”
“You know,” Mark snaps. “I’m pretty sure hyung didn’t ask you to come with me just to insult me the whole time.”
“No, he asked me to come with, because he was afraid you’d disappear off the face of the Earth, if nobody else was there, said you were shit with directions, but I think that’s an excuse you know considering...”
“Considering what?”
“I mean it’s not like you haven’t disappeared for months at a time before or anything,.” Donghyuck continues, a bitter twist to his voice.
“I-”
“I’m hungry,” Donghyuck cuts him off. “Let’s find something to eat, yeah?”
*
They end up at an In-N-Out.
Which is absurd because they were both in LA where there’s an In N Out every two miles.
How had they both been in LA for so long and never crossed paths?
There are so many questions Mark wants to ask, like what Donghyuck was doing in LA, how his new project was going, or even just how he is doing, but Mark can’t bring himself to do anything other than pick at his fries.
His appetite lost miles of road ago.
He looks around the restaurant to avoid staring at Donghyuck.
There’s a family with children in one booth, with a soda about to spill on the floor if the table jostles once more. A handful of drunk men in sports jerseys, loudly debating something that has heads turning in their direction every few seconds. There’s a young couple pressed together in the same side of a booth, laughing intimately and feeding each other friends. There’s a group of tipsy young women on too high heels, one of which is wearing a sash that proudly reads out Bride To Be .
Donghyuck must have followed his gaze, because a second later he lets out a snort.
“Very classy.”
“Huh?”
“Bride to be,” Donghyuck reads off her sash.
“When did you learn to read?”
Donghyuck shoots him a disbelieving look and replies, “Kindergarten?”
“English, I mean,” Mark corrects.
“I always could sound things out, I just didn’t know what the words meant,” Donghyuck replies. “I’ve been in LA for the last two months, how’d you think I was getting around?”
“Right,” Mark pauses, picking up another fry, just to have something to do with his hands. “Do you think she’s getting married here?”
“At the In N Out.”
“No, I mean, in Vegas,” Mark corrects. “People do that, I read this article about this couple that got married at Taco Bell, so I mean… I guess they probably could get married here. Technically.”
“Very classy.”
“You ever think about it,” Mark says, desperately wanting the conversation to continue, even if there’s no logical reason for it to. “Getting married?”
“Once,” Donghyuck says, quickly, “But it wasn’t possible, and I guess the other person didn’t feel the same.”
“Maybe it just wasn’t the right time. Or place, maybe-”
“Are you married?”
“Would I be driving across the continent alone if I was married?”
Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t know your life, Mark Lee, I stopped knowing your life years ago.”
“You would have heard if I got married.”
“From who?”
“Johnny-hyung, or someone, I-”
“Most people know better than to mention you to me,” Donghyuck tells him.
That one sentence feels like a knife in Mark’s chest.
“Why did you agree to go on this trip?”
“Because hyung thought-”
“No,” Mark cuts him off. “If you hate me that much, why would you care if I disappeared?”
“I don’t,” Donghyuck says, pausing before he tacks on the words, “Hate you, that is.”
“You don’t?”
Now it’s Donghyuck’s turn to avoid looking at him.
Mark waits, picks at his food, gives Donghyuck time to put his words together. They’ve both had an abundance of time, three years of it really, but neither really expected those conversations to go down like this. At an In N Out in Vegas, of all places.
“I wanted to, really badly, for so long,” Donghyuck eventually admits. “I used to tell myself that I did, so that everything would hurt less, but you were my best friend for too many years for all of that to just disappear.”
“Hyuck, I-”
“No, I don’t want to hear your excuses, or reasons, or anything, not today,” he cuts Mark off. “Maybe eventually, but for now… None of that was the reason why I agreed to come on this trip, okay?”
“Then why?”
“Because I owed Johnny-hyung a favor.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
*
It’s not the worst night of sleep, but it’s certainly not the best.
His AirPods had been looping the same three songs for so long to get him to sleep, that he barely recognizes when it is morning and that same voice is gently shaking him away.
Mark’s never been good at waking up, he fumbles for his glasses, as he tries to sit up, groggily asking, “What?”
“We need to get back on the road,” Donghyuck repeats, voice clearer now that Mark is paying attention.
“Yeah, okay, let me just-”
“I got you coffee from downstairs,” Donghyuck continues. “They only had Almond milk, but I figured since you’re lactose intolerant…”
“Thank you,” Mark replies, holding tightly onto the offered coffee cup. He blames the fact that it’s early and that he’s just woken up, on the next words that come out of his mouth. Had he been awake he probably would have caught himself, but instead, the question comes out - “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s my job to keep you alive, isn’t it? I supposed I might as well put in some effort.”
*
They stop somewhere in the middle of the Rocky Mountains to stretch their legs, some national park or something, Mark buying a day pass even though they won’t be there for more than an hour. He has money to spare, too much to really know what to do with, long gone was the boy that used to have to wear his brother’s hand-me-downs.
“Take a picture of me,” Donghyuck says, pushing his phone into Mark’s hands, “Get my good angles.”
They’ve done this before.
Done this for years.
“You know,” Donghyuck continues, as Mark crouches to get the best angle for his photo, “My manager is pissed that I dropped off the grid for a week. Do you think photos of me pretending to hike will make him more or less mad?”
“You’re going to post them now?”
“Why not,” Donghyuck says with a shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Mark snaps a few more photos instead of answering, “Just wait until we’re a few miles down the road.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes, crossing to take the phone back from Mark. “Just for that I’m not taking any pictures of you.”
“We can’t stay too long,” Mark warns, as he watches Donghyuck select which photos to update. “The car’s going to get hot and…”
“Don’t worry, Oat Milk, we won’t let your fish die,” Donghyuck teases, the nickname an old one, but familiar like a worn pair of jeans.
A part of him has desperately missed even the gentle teasing that Donghyuck put him through for so many years.
People in LA don’t tease, they're either mean or fake nice, there’s no gentle ribbing, no laughs between friends.
Not that he even has friends in LA to laugh with.
There’s been costars or people his agent insisted that he should mingle with for the connections, dinner plans or day trips set up for the express purpose of having paparazzi photograph them to hype up a new project.
And as nice as Dove, and Olivia, and Finn, and even Zendaya had been.
None of them are Lee Donghyuck.
*
Somewhere between the middle of nowhere and somewhere almost vaguely relevant Mark loses his phone.
Or maybe, loses isn’t the right word.
Because he is sure it is in the car, but they’ve been listening to Donghyuck’s music via the aux ever since the last rest stop, and while Mark had thought he put his phone in his pocket, he apparently did not.
“Let me just call your phone,” Donghyuck says.
Which would be great, except…
“Look I’m sure it’ll turn up,” Mark says.
“It’s either here or at the last rest stop.”
“It’s here,” Mark insists. “I always check before I get in the car, okay, let’s just wait until we get to Colorado, and then I’ll look for it.”
“But if you’re wrong we have to double back and waste even more time,” Donghyuck continues. “Look, just pull over for a second.”
Mark’s never been able to deny Donghyuck anything.
Not back then, and certainly not now.
Despite the road being empty he flicks on the turn signal and pulls them over to the side of the road.
“Just, hold on,” Donghyuck says, fiddling with his own phone until he clicks on Mark’s contact to call him.
There’s still a photo of the two of them as his contact image in Donghyuck’s phone, a photo from three years ago, from a time when he wore the love that he felt openly on his face for the world to see.
The sound of Mark’s missing phone ringing in the otherwise silent space of their shared rental car should feel like a blessing, especially since that meant that he hadn’t lost it at the rest stop after all.
But instead Mark only feels dread, because, despite Donghyuck’s noise of triumph and brag of “I told you so”, before wedging his hand between his chair and the car’s center console until he can, he knows with a sinking feeling all too well what is coming.
Can see how Donghyuck’s pleased look falls off his face the second he successfully retrieves the still ringing phone and looks down at the screen.
“Thanks, Hyuck.”
“You have me saved in your contacts as ‘ DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER’. ”
“About that-“
“In all caps,” Donghyuck is still holding onto Mark’s phone, the teasing tone that he had moments before when he was pestering Mark about misplacing his phone is long gone.
The offending object, still ringing.
Mark reaches out to take custody of his phone back, denying the call, before sliding it back into his pocket.
“Thanks, Hyuck,” he says again.
The words sit heavier now than they did the first time he said them.
Mark knows that he should have changed Donghyuck’s contact the second he agreed to go on this trip. He had intended to, really, but he’d hesitated then and now not even forty-eight hours later it was coming to bite him in the ass.
“Hyuck, I-”
“You don’t have to explain,” Donghyuck cuts him off before he can begin.
“I meant to change it,” Mark says.
Not that it makes any difference.
Especially not given the almost hurt noise that Donghyuck lets out before turning his body away from Mark (as much as he can while still in the passenger seat of the car) choosing to look out the window instead.
Despite the tension within the car, the empty stretch of land around them remains unchanging.
Mark flips on his turn signal to get back onto the road, even though there are no other cars around to see it, “Can you really blame me though, given everything?”
Donghyuck doesn’t answer him.
*
The hotel has a pool.
Which shouldn’t be something important, plenty of hotels have pools, but not many of them have Donghyuck, inside the pool, splashing around in the water when Mark sides on the sidelines, pretending to be busy on his computer.
He’s not really doing anything.
He replied to an email from his publicist, ordered some new furniture on IKEA, and now he’s just stuck there on the google homepage trying to pretend that he is doing something other than staring over the top of his laptop at where Donghyuck is swimming.
They hadn’t spoken for the last few hours, not until they got to Colorado, and then the only thing Donghyuck had asked was if Mark had packed a swimming suit.
He hadn’t.
Which had led to… Whatever this was.
The smell of chlorine is strong, burning Mark’s nose, the air hot and humid coming off the heated pool, but despite having no real reason to stay Mark can’t bring himself to leave the pool and Donghyuck behind and go back to the comfort of their empty hotel room.
“You’re staring,” Donghyuck says, having caught his glance, and Mark quickly turns his head back to the google homepage.
It taunts him asking ‘ what are you searching for ’.
Mark doesn’t have an answer for it.
“Like what you see?”
Donghyuck has pushed himself up out of the pool now, settled on the edge with just his feet in, close enough that if Mark left his poolside chair they could be touching.
Donghyuck looks good.
He’s always looked good.
That’s the problem.
Mark used to be able to look, used to spend hours looking and touching and mapping out every inch of the man in front of him.
But there are changes now, a new scar over Donghyuck’s right bicep, new moles having appeared from hours spent in the sun, muscles developed in training that Mark never had to go through, and eyes that sometimes look at Mark with an emotion that he can’t unpack.
“Your eyes are red,” Mark says eventually.
“The chlorine,” Donghyuck says.
It’s an excuse.
“You should swim with me,” Donghyuck continues.
“I don’t have trucks.”
Another excuse.
“Do you remember when,” Donghyuck starts, then stops.
There are so many ways to finish that sentence.
So many times they were in places like this.
Hotels around the world.
Pools around the world.
“I remember,” Mark says.
There’s something there, something about the stillness of a hotel pool close to closing, in the middle of nowhere, that makes him more honest than he’s been in a long time.
“I miss it,” Mark admits, voice small.
“You’re the one that left,” Donghyuck reminds him.
“Everyone was leaving,” Mark comes to his own defense, “I wasn’t the first one to leave.”
“No, but you’re the one that hurt the most.”
*
Donghyuck sleeps in the car the next day.
Softly lulled to sleep by the hum of the road and the quiet mumble of the podcast that Mark had been listening to.
When he stops for gas he can’t bring himself to wake Donghyuck.
Neither of them got good sleep last night, despite the two queen beds at the Holiday Inn having been so plush and comfortable that Mark felt as though he had been laying on a cloud. As he lay awake he had been able to hear Donghyuck tossing and turning, flipping his pillow over again and again in search of a comfortable spot.
They need to talk at some point.
Properly.
Maybe once Donghyuck wakes up.
There’s only one night before they reach Chicago and as awkward as this whole drawn-out journey has been, Mark can’t bring himself to let this end on another bad note, to go back to having Donghyuck’s number blocked and let him fade away with the bitterness between them.
One last good memory would make finally letting him go so much easier.
Mark brushes his hand softly over Donghyuck’s forehead, gentle in every way, brushing his hair aside, in a way that once used to be familiar, “Hyuck, wake up, just for a little bit, okay?”
Donghyuck doesn’t wake fully, shifts a little in his seat, it can’t possibly be comfortable, fingers coming up to grab Mark’s hand, to hold it, pulling him closer and into the passenger seat.
“Five more minutes, hyung.”
*
It starts with a little bit of rain.
Splattering against the car's windows.
The windshield wipers flicking back and forth.
“How many more miles until our next stop?”
They’re supposed to make it to Omaha.
The rain increases by the second a flash of lightning in the distance.
“Too many.”
*
“We’ll take anything,” Mark had said, to the girl at the front desk.
The motel isn’t much, nothing like the hotels Johnny had carefully booked for their journey across the United States, certainly not the type of place Mark would have ever spent the night in before. There’s peeling paint in the lobby, a smell that is both old and rancid hanging in the air and if the rain wasn’t coming down in sheets now Mark would have considered getting back on the road.
They must make quite a sight, soaked from just the quick run from parking the car into the hotel.
Donghyuck holding the box with the clearly visible fishbowl to his chest.
It had been Donghyuck, who demanded that they stop for the night, citing that if they got in a car accident from the rain and killed the fish this whole trip would have been for nothing.
“I’ve only got single rooms left,” the girl says. “Sixty-eight dollars a night, and there’s no wifi with the storm.”
It’s not ideal.
There went his plans of talking to Donghyuck tonight.
But maybe that was for the best, when the storm cleared in the morning they could talk, the time spent apart in separate rooms might be good for that.
They had always gotten along better when they weren’t roommates.
“You’re really that booked on a night like this,” Mark asks, keeping his tone light, a joke almost.
“Do you want the singles or not-?
As if the universe is working against them specifically for timing, that is exactly when all of their phones start blaring at once with a flash flood warning, the front desk girl swipes the notification away like it’s nothing, but he can see the way Donghyuck’s eyes flash in a little bit of panic.
“Yeah, the singles are fine,” Mark says.
“Two singles,” she asks, fingers clicking against the keys. “After tax, that'll be-”
“Just one,” Donghyuck cuts in. “One single.”
He can see a moment of hesitation from the girl, the way her lips are pursed together, judgment, before she nods typing once more.
The hotel room is about as bad as the lobby.
The air smells stale, Mark’s not even sure how clean the sheets are, but anything is better than being out in the storm.
He grimaces as he looks down at the carpet, and the questionable stains on it, but he still forces the words out - “I’ll take the floor, then.”
Donghyuck, who for some reason had taken it upon himself to set up the fish tank, pauses, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not going to make you take the floor,” Mark insists. “I’m the hyung, so if anyone should-”
“Neither of us are taking the floor,” Donghyuck cuts him off.
“What?”
It wouldn’t be the first time they had shared a bed.
Though it’s definitely the first time they have since it all fell apart.
They shared them often as kids, and then whenever they were on tour if they'd get assigned rooms together, and then later… The last time Mark had shared a bed with Donghyuck he had pushed Donghyuck down into the sheets, kissed over every inch of his body with a promise, to give him a good memory for the month they’d have to be apart.
But then that month turned into so much more and…
The bed isn’t that large, a full-sized bed is not meant for two full-sized humans.
Both shivering a little from the cold, despite having stripped off their rain-soaked layers.
Mark tries to focus on something else, the storm outside, the hum of the fish tanks filter, anything other than how Donghyuck curls up against him in a way that’s familiar.
Mark never liked being touched, always shying away from physical contact, but two years without any touch at all that wasn’t an act or a friendly handshake, and Mark can’t help the shiver that passes through him.
Not from the cold this time.
But from the way his body aches, having missed being held.
Touch starved, that’s what his therapist had said before.
But he had ignored her.
Now, as Donghyuck tucks himself against Mark blaming it on fear of the storm outside, despite Mark knowing for a fact that Donghyuck isn’t afraid of storms, he realizes that that’s exactly what he’s been for far too long.
“Hyuck, I-”
“We don’t have to make this a thing,” Donghyuck says, words whispered into his shoulder, “Just let me pretend for a second.”
“It’s already a thing,” Mark counters, voice equally soft.
Donghyuck’s arms tighten around him, holding Mark in place, as he says - “I’m afraid.”
“Of the storm?”
“Of talking.”
“We need to talk,” Mark says, barely wanting to break the stillness of the moment.
“We should have talked years ago,” Donghyuck counters.
He’s right.
Mark hates himself a little how right he is.
That the Mark of three years ago was too much of a coward to do things properly.
“I was scared, back then,” Mark admits. “Scared that if you had known the truth that you would have tried to stop me.”
“I probably would have.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to be there when I finished basic training, but you weren’t there and then… Everyone said you landed some acting gig back in Canada, and I foolishly thought that maybe you hadn’t told me because you hadn’t known that you’d gotten it yet, or that it was something last minute, or a surprise or,” Donghyuck’s voice is tight with tears that should have been shed years ago. “I kept making excuses, blaming it on the time zones for why you weren’t texting me back.”
He’d been a coward back then.
Already had put his plan into motion the second he had landed back in Vancouver.
It had been his lawyer’s advice, not having known how deep Mark’s feelings had run, to cut off contact with anyone back in NCT or SM, anyone that might make him regret trying to break his contract.
“If I stayed there I never could have come out, I never could have been myself, we would have always had to be a secret,” Mark says.
“I would have been happy being your secret.”
“Forever?”
“I chose public service specifically so that I would be able to come home to you each night,” Donghyuck says, “But you were half a world away, never replying, and then I found out from a fucking press release that you were gone for good.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark says.
Already knowing that it’s not enough.
His eyes burn with tears, spilling over, but it’s nothing compared to the way Donghyuck is shaking against him, so much hurt and anger spilling out at once.
“We weren’t even broken up, you didn’t even have the audacity to break up with me over the phone or to text me about it, the last thing you sent me was an ‘ i love you, take care of yourself ’.”
“I tried to text you afterward,” Mark says, even though he knows he has no real ground to stand on, “But you blocked my number and then-”
“I was angry,” Donghyuck snaps. “Angry and hurt, and you didn’t even try to talk to me after that, not until last week when Johnny-hyung texted me that you needed someone to help you move.”
Mark shifts to put space between them, sitting up now.
The bedside light is still on, Donghyuck has never been able to sleep in the dark, and Mark can see all the hurt in those eyes that had always been so familiar to him.
The hurt that he put there.
“Someone,” Donghyuck repeats, a bitter twist to his lips, despite the tears on his cheeks, “Anyone, not me, and fuck I-” the next words are lost in a sob. “I hated you.”
“If I could go back in time and change things, I don’t know if I would do anything different,” Mark admits. “I had to leave, but you’re right, I should have told you properly. But I can’t change the past, Hyuck, I can’t take all that hurt away. I’m sorry. Some days I hate myself too.”
“Don’t.”
“Hyuck?”
“Don’t,” Donghyuck repeats again, before darting forward.
It’s nothing and everything at once.
Lips pressed against Mark’s, the reflex to kiss back is instinctual muscle memory, as he opens his mouth to welcome Donghyuck in, his kiss tastes salty tears freely flowing between them, but it’s desperate and despite all the years of hurt between them Mark can’t bring himself to stop.
He’s ached for this for too long to deny either of them his.
He only pauses briefly when Donghyuck’s hands skim over Mark’s sleep shirt, working to tug it off over his head, causes them to pull apart for air, and - “Hyuck, are you sure this is a good-”
“I want this,” Donghyuck insists. “Do you-”
Mark kisses him again before the question can ever be finished.
Answering with his body instead of his words.
He’ll probably regret this in the morning, but for now, he can’t find a reason to stop.
So he doesn’t.
*
Donghyuk isn’t there when he wakes up.
For a second, Mark lays there in the rumbled sheets wondering if maybe it all was a dream brought on by the thunderstorm.
But there’s a bruise against his collarbone that reminds him that it wasn’t.
He moves to the bathroom, ready to start the day and then figure out wherever Donghyuck went to, but he doesn’t have to look far because Donghyuck is there sitting fully clothed inside of the hotel’s bathtub, whispering into his phone in rapid-fire Korean, but he stops the second Mark appears.
A quick, “I’ll text you later, hyung,” is said, before he hangs up.
For a second they stare at each other.
Donghyuck’s hair is a mess from where Mark had run his fingers through it last night, his eyes still red-rimmed from tears, and- “We should get on the road, it’s about a nine-hour drive till we get to Chicago, and I have a flight to catch.”
“Right,” Mark says, even as dread settles into his stomach. “About last night, Hyuck, I-”
“Forget it,” Donghyuck says, standing up. “Brush your teeth, I’ll pack up the fish, we need to get back on the road.”
“What if I don’t want to forget it?”
*
He makes it about two hours before he falls apart.
They’re at a gas station, Donghyuck buying snacks for the journey since they won’t really have time to stop and get a proper lunch if Donghyuck is going to make his flight back to Korea, but Mark…
Mark has been staring at the gas pump for the last five minutes without actually doing anything.
Because filling up the tank means getting back in the car.
Which means driving to Chicago.
Which means never seeing Donghyuck again.
He doesn’t realize he’s having a breakdown until he’s in the middle of it, and despite all of the conversations with his therapist, and all the strategies to bring him back from the edge of falling apart, Mark can’t remember any of them.
Can barely even remember how to breathe-
All he can think about is-
“Mark?”
Donghyuck’s voice cuts through the fog in his head.
Through all the terrible thoughts.
He’s always had a way of doing that.
“All my life I had to be perfect,” Mark says, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice. “Except with you, and that used to terrify me, but it’s so fucking hard to be the me that everyone expects.”
“Mark, hey, just breathe for a second-”
“Hyung wasn’t afraid I’d get lost,” Mark admits. Though he’s sure Donghyuck already knows this. “He was afraid I’d just give up on everything, my work, my life, I’m so fucking close to the edge these days that it scares me, Hyuck, and I know you don’t want to talk about it and I’m fucking everything up but-”
“You’re not fucking everything up,” Donghyuck says, but Mark barely hears him now.
“Last night was the first time in a while that I’ve felt alive in so long.”
He barely even registers that he's being held, until Donghyuck pulls him in, forcing Mark’s head to rest on his shoulder, as he holds Mark tightly.
“I’m sorry I could be perfect for you.”
Donghyuck doesn’t say anything as Mark cries, just holds onto him, rubbing small circles onto his back until Mark runs out of tears to spill.
When finally, Mark can breathe almost normally again, Donghyuck says, “Let's just get back in the car, okay?”
Right.
Donghyuck’s flight.
“Give me a few minutes,” Mark asks. “Then I’ll be able to drive again.”
“I’m driving,” Donghyuck says, in a tone that holds no argument.
“You don’t have a license in America.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Hyuck-”
“I’m not letting you have a panic attack while driving and kill that fucking fish, okay,” Donghyuck says. “You’re sleeping in the car, I’m driving you to the airport and then Johnny-hyung can come get you from there for all I can but, but I’m not…”
Donghyuck finally releases his hold on him.
Steps back to put distance between them.
Mark aches wishing he could bridge that distance.
Knowing that it’s too late.
“Tomorrow I want you to wake up and forget all about me, okay?”
“I don’t think I can.”
“I’ve been trying for three years to forget you,” Donghyuck tells him. “And it isn’t easy, but maybe if we both try, one day we’ll both be able to speak of each other fondly.”
*
He doesn’t sleep.
He sits there in the passenger seat and watches Donghyuck.
Tries to commit this all to memory.
One last good memory, an ending to a tale that began in a training room too many years ago, back when they were both boys that didn’t know how much they would love and hate each other, how they’d build each other up before taking each other apart.
He tries to superimpose the image of this Donghyuck, hands tight on the wheel, steady as he takes them down the roads that will take them further apart, over the image in his head, of that boy with curls falling over his face and a smile that spelled trouble worming his way into Mark’s heart at thirteen.
“You’re staring,” Donghyuck says.
Not for the first time, but probably for the last.
“I want to remember this.”
*
He calls Johnny when they’re pulling into O’Hare reassures him with the plan to drop Donghyuck off and head his way, his voice lifting up slightly in tone, faked happiness to excuse all that he has been feeling lately as he reassures Johnny, “Yeah, bro, it’s all good! I told you I could play nice, yeah yeah, I’ll see you in like thirty.”
The car plunges into silence the second Mark hangs up the phone.
The same silence that has haunted them for the last five hours of their drive.
Only slightly mitigated by Donghyuck turning on the blinker to guide Mark’s car towards the international terminal.
To the end of it all.
“So I guess, this is goodbye,” Mark says, when Donghyuck stops the car in the drop off area.
They both need to get out of the car.
Donghyuck to leave, and Mark to get into the driver’s seat but neither of them manage to do so.
“Yeah,” Donghyuck replies.
“If it makes any difference-”
“It doesn’t,” Donghyuck cuts him off.
“Thank you,” Mark says, determined to say his piece at least, “For coming with me, I don’t think I would have made it this far on my own, and I’m glad it was you.”
“Mark, please… I can’t....”
“Not just anyone, but you , fuck Hyuck, I didn’t know before but I had needed this,” Mark admits. “I’ll miss you.”
“Get out of the car.”
Mark has never been able to deny Donghyuck anything.
So he does as he’s asked, even if it hurts when Donghyuck rounds the car and pulls him into a hug.
“A part of me will always love you, Mark, even if this has to be our end.”
“I never stopped loving you. I don’t think I know how to.”
Mark kisses him.
The way he should have kissed Donghyuck years ago.
The last kiss.
A proper goodbye this time.
“Ask me again,” Mark says, when they pull back. “That question you asked me in Vegas, about the fish.”
“What’s his name?”
“Haechan,” Mark admits.
“You named your fucking therapy fish after me? Why?”
“So I won't forget you.”
Donghyuck laughs, but it’s strained.
“Oh, Mark, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to forget about each other.”
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t owe Johnny a favor,” Donghyuck admits.
“Then why?”
“He owed me one,” Donghyuck continues, “I helped him out once and in exchange, if there was ever a chance to get a proper goodbye out of you, he was supposed to help me set things up, I guess, I just never expected this… I never expected goodbye to hurt so much. “
Watching Donghyuck walk away is probably the hardest thing Mark has ever done.
But he lets him.
Stands there staring at Donghyuck’s back until the automatic doors close and he can no longer see him.
When Mark moves back to the driver’s seat of his car it is with lead feet.
Each step hurting.
Putting more and more distance between them.
Until the door shuts and Mark can’t help the tears that come.
He would have thought after all that they cried last night and at the gas station this morning that there would be none left to cry, but somehow more still come. His very soul aching out for Donghyuck.
Even though he knows that it’s for the best.
That a proper goodbye is better than the years spent without any goodbye at all.
Closure.
His therapist had always said that he needed closure.
But now finally having it, Mark wishes they didn’t have to close that door.
There’s a knock on the window before Mark can bring himself to drive away.
He rubs at his blurry eyes, ready to apologize to the airport attendant, to reassure them that he’s about to get back on the road, but when he turns to the window it’s Donghyuck there.
Eyes equally red and - “It’s eight more hours to Toronto, right?”
“What?”
“And they’ve got an airport there, right?”
“Hyuck, what are you-”
“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but I think I need to see this one through.”