Archive of Our Own ^beta

11:48

It’s almost a miracle that Mark is already bed-ready at this hour. 

Wrapped in a t-shirt too large for his figure, he is sitting cross-legged on his bed, fresh out of the shower. It was the first thing he did after arriving. He had goofed around under the snow today and a warm shower seemed perfect to melt that lingering feeling of snow upon his skin. Dream had a busy day recording a song for their upcoming comeback, but Mark had been lucky to leave work early. 

The wet strands of his hair shuffle as he hand-dries them, and the tune of Good Days by SZA fills the air as he sings his most recent favourite track. It has only been out for a couple of weeks, but it’s already stuck in his head for as long. And for the same amount of time, he’s been playing it on his guitar.

He adjusts his perfectly even glasses and, very naturally, reaches for the musical instrument, hoisting it up to his lap. The first few keys were played smoothly before his eyes glance at the bed next to his. With their manager still out companying Donghyuck, Mark has got the room all to himself, along with its desolation. The apartment feels empty today. No racketing noises as when the-fifth floor guys come over or the usual bustling when the managers are around. 

As he muses, the expression he has is suddenly one of rumination, and his fingers stop mid-play.

“Okay,” he mutters to himself, carefully tearing the guitar away from his lap and placing it aside as if he just found some sort of resolution to his thoughts. He then jumps off the bed and walks to the door, shaking his head to get rid of the remains of water on his hair. 

The song still plays in his head as he takes careful steps towards Jaehyun and Jungwoo’s shared bedroom. Apparently, it only needs a couple of knocks for Jaehyun to recognise the person on the door. Mark hears a muffled, “Just get in, Mark,” the English slipping out of the older habitually. So, he lets himself in, steps wandering just past the door as he leans on the rim of it. He studies the room: Jaehyun is lying flat on his back, eyes focused on his phone, and on Jungwoo’s bed, is a blanket covering the entirety of it. Mark fails at suppressing a smile as he watches the fidgeting figure underneath.

“Coming for Jungwoo?”

“Uh-huh,” he gives a nonchalant reply, while Jungwoo peeks from his blanket at the mention of his name, hair sticking up everywhere. A grin spreads wide, then his arm slips out of the blanket too, patting the spot next to him.

“What are you doing there? Come here, Mark,” Jungwoo says with some more English riddled in between and Mark chuckles at that. His members never fail to amuse him. Be it something that is actually funny, or simple English sentences said out of habit, Mark will be entertained. 

“No, you come here,” he replies, his head leaning on the door’s edge and one hand playing with the handle.

Despite the smile, there is a crease building up between Jungwoo’s eyebrows, demanding an explanation. So, Mark detaches himself from the door and stretches his left arm out to his side. Then, his right-hand moves in an arc in front of his stomach, strumming the air. He knows the gesture and the cheeky quirk of brows are enough for Jungwoo to understand.

And he sure does, as his eyes are now filled with acknowledgement. “Now?”

“Come on, man,” Mark tries to coax the older, along with a tiny tilt of the head.

“Alright, man.”

The blanket flies open with a tug, and Jungwoo gets off the bed. He reaches for his bag that looks almost forgotten under Jaehyun’s (and Jungwoo’s? Mark doesn’t understand the ownership of stuff in this room) swivelling chair. As Jungwoo’s hand roams the inside of it, Mark glances at Jaehyun to try and gauge his reaction. He is lowering down his phone, a frown tight on his lips.

“Don’t smoke in the bathroom, please,” he says, and Mark almost laughs at the hint of authority in his voice.

“Uh, we’re not going to,” Jungwoo answers half-heartedly, his hand slipping a suspicious boxy thing into his shorts’ pockets.

“Jungwoo,” Jaehyun shakes his head, voice almost commanding. “The auntie keeps complaining about Mark’s bathroom smelling funny.”

Jungwoo grimaces. “We’re gonna keep the exhaust on, hyung.”

“And we’ll spray lots of Febreze,” Mark adds, unnecessarily cheerful.

Jaehyun turns at Mark with a tiny scowl. “Not you too, Mark.”

“I thought you were worried about the smell?”

His lips make a tight line now, dimples threatening to peek on either side, while Mark and Jungwoo only grin stupidly at him. 

“I’ll check after you guys if it still smells or not.” The oldest of them sighs, focusing back on whatever it is he was looking at on his phone’s screen. Mark’s bet is on Instagram, though.

“I love you, bro.” He sends the older a salute, receiving another head-shake in return. Mark makes a note in his head to treat Jaehyun to something nice when they both have some free time. Although, knowing the upcoming schedules, that treat is most probably going to happen in another three months or more.

Jungwoo comes closer and grabs Mark’s hand, and Mark notices how his heart misses a beat at the touch. The older scurries, taking them both out into the TV room and onto Mark’s bedroom.

Inside his room, Mark grabs his guitar, then slips into his en suite bathroom all giggly and teeth. Jungwoo, already inside, looks at Mark with the same giggles and teeth.

This is not the weirdest thing to do between two friends, obviously, but it is pretty weird when Mark had told Donghyuck about it. 

(“You do what with Jungwoo-hyung?” Donghyuck’s eyes are as wide as they possibly could be.

Mark grimaces. “It sounds weird when I say it out loud.”

“Yeah? You are teaching him guitar in a bathroom of all places. While smoking. At night.”)

But for the two perpetrators, it’s just all for good fun. The guitar and their voices sound heavenly inside the bathroom, sometimes even so much better than the recording studio. It echoes beautifully and their voices come out clear as water. Even if they had gone slightly off-pitch (it’s the cold night air’s fault, of course) it will still sound flawless. There’s the exhaust as well, it sucks up all the smokes. And they always promise not to smoke more than three sticks between them, too.

It’s just perfect. And they never got into trouble for it—well, at least Mark, because Jungwoo’s story is a bit different.

So, there they are: Mark sits on the toilet, Jungwoo knee-bent inside the bathtub. He slips out the cigarette pack out of his pocket, and as he opens it, the little lighter peeks from the inside.

“I told you not to put the lighter inside the box,” Mark gripes. “It’ll mush them up, dude.”

Jungwoo grins. “I’m afraid I’ll lose the lighter if I separate them and manager-hyung will see it.”

“Like he doesn’t know?”

“No, no. I know he knows— heck, the world does. But, like, I still don’t really wanna be caught red-handed, you know?”

Mark frowns at Jungwoo’s words. 

The world does. Sure, they do. 

And this is exactly the Jungwoo story that bothers Mark a little bit too much. It has only been a month since pictures of Jungwoo smoking went viral, and he got several mouths from the managers and a few higher-ups. It’s fucked up, because those cursed stalkers still got to be called fans, while Jungwoo got called words that should never befit him in the first place. Who was it again who committed a crime?

He sighs, thinking about crazy fans almost ruined his mood. 

“I understand, I guess.” Mark repeatedly nods, steadying the guitar on his lap.

He places three fingers on the neck of it, each of them staying on one fret. Despite his careful appearance, he isn’t putting much thought into it, actually. It’s as easy as breathing, these keys. He picks the strings and Jungwoo, whose hands are as busy just not with a musical instrument, grins. He momentarily puts the unlit cigarette out from between his teeth.

“You love this song so much.”

“Me, and everyone on the internet, apparently,” Mark picks some more just to get the feeling of it, and continues, “You should see, it’s like, all over Twitter.” A soft hum. “Maybe I should cover it.”

Jungwoo’s thumb strikes down the wheel, sparking orange fire. He inhales, and the tobacco ignites with an orange glint as well. 

“You should,” Jungwoo says with a release of smokes. “It's a good song.”

Mark’s fingers move very effortlessly to the next chord, and the one after it, and then the one after that. Meanwhile, Jungwoo fishes out his phone from the other pocket, searching up the lyrics. By the time the song reaches its chorus, Jungwoo finally joins. 

They sang and hummed, with Mark pausing here and there because Jungwoo gives him the stick, and he takes a hit, then he gives it back. 

You know, as if it was a blunt. 

The members would totally crack up at this sight.

00:56

“Come on, you remember the positions, right?”

Jungwoo is sitting on the edge of the bathtub now, Mark’s guitar is sitting on his lap.

“I remember! It’s just that”—Jungwoo tries to strum, but the sound is wonky and stretched—“let’s just agree that my finger is too weak to hold down three strings at the same time, yeah?”

The sound did come out funny in Jungwoo’s opinion, so he kind of laughed at it. The pitiful, disappointed kind. But Mark looks serious. This guy has a golden heart, Jungwoo knows that too well. And yet, it still baffles him sometimes to see Mark, who literally laughs at the littlest things that people do, refusing to laugh when it comes to people failing at something. 

It’s not cool to laugh instead of helping, he said once. 

Heart of gold, truly. Jungwoo wouldn’t even mind if he had gagged at his ineptitude.

“Dude, it sounds alright!” His eyes are brilliant sparkles under the bathroom light and his thumb goes to where Jungwoo’s middle finger is struggling to hold down the strings, gently pressing on it. “You just need to practice more times so you’ll have the strength for it.”

He looks comfortable putting his fingers on Jungwoo’s, and Jungwoo almost smirks at the nonchalance he displays. 

The thing is this: it is obvious that Mark had been avoiding touching him for the entire week. Since they recorded their time slots for the relay cam together, Mark gets ridiculously nervous around him, but only when they touch. There is a subtle flinch now if their skins graze each other, a beat of silence, sometimes followed by words that come in rapid-fire.

If Jungwoo was to ponder about it, that’s actually how Mark acts when the other members try to touch him. Jungwoo, with some God’s given miracle—or maybe just his persistence—is actually the only person who has managed to approach Mark with skinship and be accepted with open arms.

Is it because Jungwoo was too touchy during the relay cam? Is it perhaps something to do with the footage of Jungwoo basically cuddling into Mark and getting all up his neck is about to be released to the world? Because even though it’s all on the editors’ decision to keep them or not, he is positive that if the footage is trimmed, there will be nothing left of their videos. So the world will see Mark who hates being touched getting breathed on the neck and not flinching. Not anymore.

Or maybe, Mark had realised the consequences of his bold move when they cuddled to sleep that very same day. It was quite a shock as it had come from Mark, but Jungwoo had genuinely waved it off. No harm was done, and he only had to borrow Jaehyun’s concealer to cover up the purple peeking up at his collarbone.

Whichever reason it might be, Mark is relaxedly pressing Jungwoo’s fingers now, and Jungwoo feels some kind of relief that he gets over whatever virgin spirit has gotten into him.

The other gestures at him to try to strum again, and Jungwoo does. It comes out more solid this time, and Jungwoo cannot help but make a satisfied smile.

“Okay, that does sound satisfying.” He tries fingerpicking it, in a pattern he hears a lot from the younger, and, well, it sounds like music. He tries some more, and continues, “What if you just stay right next to me whenever I try to play? Be my finger assistant.”

The chortle that comes out of Mark leaves Jungwoo wondering once more if the whole world is filled with comedians in Mark’s perspective. Maybe in his eyes, humans are born as comedians first, then they could be anything they want after that.

“Finger assistant—” His other hand reaches out to punch Jungwoo on the shoulder. An erratic pattern of it, but Jungwoo is used to it. “Do you even hear yourself? Finger assistant—”

Mark huffs out the vestiges of his laughter and the older chuckles, more at Mark than at what he is laughing at, because Jungwoo fails to find the humour in it, if he should be honest. At least Mark looks cute enough for him to be amused.

“What else should I call it?”

“Anything else! Not finger assistant.”

“You know what I mean, though.”

“Oh my god,” Mark mutters. His thumb is still pressing on Jungwoo’s finger, and before his amusement completely dies down, he already guides Jungwoo’s forefinger to the fret next to it. Then the ring is moved onto the same fret as the middle, then he presses gently on them again.

It’s funny—because Jungwoo remembers these keys. He’s been learning Honesty for a month now, and as much as these guitar lessons are frustrating, Jungwoo is a diligent student. 

He could at least remember the chords.

And it truly is funny because, despite that, he doesn’t feel like stopping Mark from guiding his hand.

“Do it again,” Mark says. He meant pick them again, and Jungwoo complies. Mark gestures at him to keep going, while his own hand is busy changing the positions of the older’s fingers. The sound gets better and better, and the infinitesimal smirk on Mark’s face is a boost for Jungwoo’s ego.

In between picking the strings and watching the younger, Jungwoo wonders when will he ever master this instrument if Mark keeps babying him like this. Still, he keeps his mouth shut and lets Mark guides his fingers.

01:22

They have just finished their second cigarette, and only on their second—because an oath is an oath, and no matter how much they want to light it sooner, they still have to take good care of their precious throats to make money. 

The guitar is back with Mark, and bridging the gap of the bathtub to the toilet is Jungwoo, sitting on the floor. He looks too comfortable sitting down there, but since Mark is familiar with how impeccable their dorm auntie is with her cleaning, the whole picture doesn’t look extremely gross. 

It is not the first thing he worries about right now, anyway. 

The guy is leaning on Mark’s knee, just a shy below where his short ends. Now, helping him with the chords is one thing, but this is too much skin on skin, his cheek smooth against Mark’s rough kneecap. A cold shiver runs from the spot to the rest of his body, but he tries to fight it off.

“Hey,” Mark says, almost whispering. “Why don’t you check on Jaehyun-hyung?” 

He balances the guitar on his thighs, careful not to move his knee too much in case Jungwoo’s head falls.

“I did.” Jungwoo’s hands go up to palm Mark’s knee, slipping under his cheek so his head could rest more comfortably. Mark almost cringes. “He didn’t answer. I think he fell asleep.”

Mark makes an understanding nod. Jaehyun has been very busy after all. After the packed NCT 2020, and now with the drama and the weekly emcee gig, he’d feel bad if Jaehyun had stayed up just to check upon Mark and Jungwoo’s shenanigans. 

“We should just spray more Febreze, then. And one of us can go out, wait, and then try checking the smell again. What do you think?”

Jungwoo only nods, cheeks grazing his own knuckles. 

A smile creeps on Mark’s lips, very subtle. “What’s wrong? You sleepy?”

“Kinda.”

“Let’s just sleep, then.” Mark’s hand accidentally knocks the wood of his guitar, right before it lands on Jungwoo’s hair.

“We still have one more,” Jungwoo says, twisting his neck a bit to look at Mark.

There is contemplation to pull his hand away, but Mark can’t help it when his hand moves ever-so-instinctively to caress Jungwoo’s hair.

For a moment, he is thankful that Jungwoo had agreed to keep things comfortable between them. No more hyung, more banmal. Things are so much better like this, where he can treat Jungwoo as if Jungwoo was younger than him. And it’s not hard, too, because one of Jungwoo’s many lovable traits would be his childlike naivety, which in turn makes people want to take care of him. Mark had seen Donghyuck melts over Jungwoo’s cutesy acts, which successfully wins him another turn at FIFA. And if that isn't enough proof, well, Mark had seen Chenle falling for the same trick. 

And now, he is certain that anyone who knows Jungwoo for at least a day would fall for it all the same. He won’t even blame them.

The smile on Mark’s face grows bigger at the thought. 

He strokes Jungwoo’s hair again and finally responds, “We made a promise not to smoke more than three, Jungwoo. Doesn’t mean we have to smoke three.”

“Yeah,” Jungwoo wryly answers, then he straightens himself up and reaches for the pack on top of the tank. His arm brushed the white sleeve of Mark’s t-shirt and Mark feels like leaning his head so they can touch.

You’re just touch-starved, he hears Donghyuck’s voice coming in like a ghost inside his head and stops himself before he even starts moving.

With their last cigarette in between his fingers, Jungwoo prepares himself to light it up, while Mark is only watching him. Instead of stopping him or teasing him, he only stares, and he doesn’t even know why. Maybe he still wants to smoke too, or maybe there is something in the way Jungwoo’s forefinger and middle finger are holding the stick. Graceful, for his fingers are slender and beautiful, yet sloppy, for his movements are curt and eager. 

He looks at them as if Jungwoo is making art with his two hands.

There is no sort of pride in being stress-smokers. But Jungwoo is with his mind while Mark is with his schedules, and they both have had enough of them. They are on top of the world most times but there are still moments where they feel like they are sleeping on the very depth of earth. So, in the end, they succumbed to the addicting nicotine that gives them false peace of mind. After all, good things don’t need a crazy amount of people crying out your names or getting one of your groups’ names called to receive a trophy. Sometimes, good things are carcinogens being inhaled into your lungs just because it feels better than whatever this crazy idol life is about to throw at their faces later.

Mark is still staring when there is a spark again, an inhale, another cloud of smokes. And then an eye contact. 

He darts his gaze to his guitar.

“Play me a song,” the older says. 

Mark’s eyes go back to the man beneath the clouds and he mumbles, “Okay.” 

He jumps from one fret to the next, quick and precise, and a broad smile hangs on Jungwoo’s lips. Jungwoo loves this song, and Mark knows that.

It is Instagram by Dean and Jungwoo sings while Mark just plays. He knows the lyrics, but he doesn’t feel like interrupting Jungwoo and his beautiful voice.

In the middle of it, Jungwoo offers him the cigarette and asks, “Why don’t you make one?” So Mark stops himself from playing, taking the offer.

“Make what?”

“Instagram!”

A laugh comes out of him, along with the thin mass of smokes. Mark takes another huff. Another blow, and he finally asks back, “Should I?”

“Totally. Why not?”

“Do I look like I have it in me to run an Instagram account?”

Jungwoo scoffs. “It’s just Instagram, Mark.”

His nose scrunches in amusement as he gives Jungwoo back the cigarette. A cough, then he plays the keys again.

“Well, this song makes it sound like it’s the most horrible place, you know?”

“Then you can pull an Eunhyuk-hyung and delete the account if it gets too much.”

“Clever.” Mark keeps playing his guitar, unsung lyrics in their heads since no one really has the energy to sing anymore. “I might make one, then.”

Jungwoo hums to the tune, the cigarette burning out of existence. Suddenly, he brings his hand up to Mark’s face, stopping at his mouth. Another eye contact and Mark is caught off-guard then, but he still takes it, inhaling the toxic smoke. His lips just barely touch the pads of Jungwoo’s fingers and a shudder runs through his neck, down to his sides.

The eye contact did not cease until his vision is covered by the pale smokes, and although not once did his fingers stop, his heart sure did.

You’re just touch-starved, he hears Donghyuck’s voice again, clear and mocking in his head. 

Shut the fuck up, Lee Haechan, he replies, mentally cursing his phantom best friend.

Then, with eyes that move too quickly to where his fingers are, Mark briefly considers that he might finally have gotten into trouble this time.

Fifth-floor. Six days ago.

“You’re just touch-starved.”

“What?”

Mark is staring big-eyed at Donghyuck. He just told him how he cuddles with Jungwoo too much lately, and he didn’t expect the response to be so simple. And resolute, in a way.

“You’re telling me, when he started cuddling with you on bed, you just accepted it? Lee Mark?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You, who will literally push me if I try to kiss you?”

“Well, kiss is a bit too far—“ Mark stops, something is dawning in his brain. “You know what? I think I might need to listen to you properly this time.”

Donghyuck mumbles something along the way of, you should listen to me all the time, but he continues anyway, “Is it? Too far? I’ve seen Jungwoo-hyung hugs your thigh and you didn’t even flinch.”

Mark is frozen, his mouth is slightly open in that style every time he wants to deny something but loses the words along the way. 

“Anyway, ever since he starts cuddling with you, you are now the one who starts it, right?” Donghyuck throws a quick look at Mark, then back at his phone’s screen. “I think it’s because you didn’t cuddle much, you know? The members all tried but you seem to only reciprocate when it comes to Jungwoo-hyung.”

Donghyuck curses at the screen—because he got shot or something, Mark never cared about it—while Mark just mutters out an understanding oh.

“I mean, it’s due, you know? You need a fucking hug. Well, you’re twenty-three and in a perfectly good shape, hyung. Nothing wrong with that. It’s not a big deal.” It’s English that’s slipping out of him cheekily. “Humans do need hugs and cuddles. It’s like a fact.”

“But what if it’s a big deal for him?”

“You’re talking about Jungwoo-hyung, right?” Donghyuck emphasises on the Jungwoo-hyung, then his head makes a quick tilt in what seems to be a change of mind. “Has he ever remotely looked bothered by it, though?”

There is a pause from Mark’s side, heavy with consideration. If anything, Jungwoo always looks like he enjoys it.

“The thing is,” Mark hesitates, and the contemplation in his face is actually highly apparent if only Donghyuck looks at him instead of the screen. He takes a breath to brave himself. “It’s not only cuddling? The last time?”

“Uh-huh,” the younger signals for Mark to keep going. His face is filled with curious mirth, but he still keeps at least half his focus on the game. Mark sighs. 

“You know, we had to shoot the relay cam yesterday, and manager-hyung was away, right? And Jungwoo spent a night at my room again.” Another insufferable pause because Mark has to collect all of his sanity to confess about this. “And I— I kinda left a bruise on his collarbone.”

This time, Donghyuck’s snaps his neck away from the screen. His finger slips and he glances back at it, then a low, muttering, ah, I’m dead, is heard before he goes back to look at the older.

“A hickey,” Donghyuck pauses for emphasis, “hyung?”

The answer Mark gives him is a grimace and cheeks that are warm to the edges.

A series of chuckles come out of the younger, little by little until his body shakes with full laughter. His hand goes up to his face, knuckles checking the temperature of his own cheek. His phone is thrown on the sofa next to him, and Mark is silently bemused by the way the game is forgotten so easily. That takes a lot and it shows that this information is a lot for him.

But instead of letting his bemusement show, Mark purses his lips, face full of dismay. “Don’t laugh at me.”

It took him some time to calm down from the chuckles, but Donghyuck finally says, “Hey, I’m happy! I knew we can’t all be straight, but I was kind of offended that nobody ever talked to me about it. Like, nobody! I mean, not a Jeno, not a Jaemin? Are they even straight? Anyways, I’m hurt.” He huffs. “But now, I’m happy that you’re telling me about this.”

At the word straight, Mark’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “I’m not— I’m—”

The look on his face is enough to express his judgment, but Donghyuck still sounds out his remark, “Yeah, very straight of you to leave hickeys on your bro’s collarbones. Am I right?”

This guy is always so sharp and right, the heat on Mark’s cheeks is quick to increase. “It’s just one hickey.”

“Yeah, well— leave more next time.” Mark scowls at him. “I’m serious. You have to find out if you are really into it or not, right? Leave them below the collarbone, though. The stylists might be blabbermouths, who knows?”

He can only guess how red his face looks right now, but by the persisting amusement on Donghyuck’s face, he doesn’t really have to.

“At least this makes sneaking to smoke in the bathroom at night not so weird, huh?” Donghyuck begins again. “Teaching him guitar? Never knew you were this smooth.”

“Haechan-ah, you—” Mark stops to rub his palms all over his face. Another sigh comes out of him and it rings frustrated more than anything. 

He was so sure of the kind of look his best friend had until he looked up, because there is a different kind of light in Donghyuck’s eyes, something akin to relief and genuine reverence. The younger smiles and Mark realises that Donghyuck meant it when he said he was happy to hear this from him.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” he then says, his hand is a grip down on Mark’s shoulder. “Just go with the flow, Mark Lee. You’ll know what to do, right? You always do.”

Mark gives him a wry smile, a doubt still sits unmoved in his heart.

1:59

The cigarette is smoked to its last breath so quickly, it’s almost disappointing. Jungwoo drags one last time then shoves the butt into the lid of an empty loose powder container that they’re using as an ashtray. The last of its combustion is dead when it comes into contact with the plastic.

“Alright.” Jungwoo carefully detaches his back from the bathtub wall and rises, taking the lid with him. Mark takes it from his hand as he stands up, and he dumps the cigarette butts and ashes into the closet.

Jungwoo is not going to lie, out of everything they do, flushing cigarette butts into the closet feels the most immoral, especially since he is looking right at Mark’s mortified face as he does it.

“We should probably make a hand-written apology letter if it clogs.”

“Or worse,” Mark interjects. “When the marine life is depleted because Jungwoo and Mark flushed cigarette butts into the fucking septic tank.”

Mark—the absolute angel—still suffers from guilt over this. This is very likely to be the worst thing that Mark ever did, after all. The Mark Lee that Jungwoo knows since pre-debut have never done anything outrageous in his life. 

But this? See, they can’t really help it. Especially when they’ve heard stories of their seniors' fans going through garbage just to find every little detail about their idols’ lives. Jungwoo and Mark had never been through that but knowing the fans currently camping outside their dorm (they’ve been here for two days, the absolute lunatics), it is not unlikely that will happen or have happened without them knowing. 

It’s stupid. Because people already knew. There was nothing else that needs to be hidden—they don’t need to do this or do the cutting up the pack into small pieces, burning it down to unrecognisable shapes before throwing it out. People know Jungwoo smokes. If they ever creepily found other hints from a bunch of waste, then Jungwoo will readily be the one to be cursed upon, again. They don’t even need to know about Mark. 

But they can’t do it, they can’t just change the habits of having to be careful of the things they throw away. It’s like a disease, this thing—a disease coated by some sort of irrational fear that won’t let them change. The fear that if the fans did unethically go through their garbage, the ones who will be put under trial would be the members, still. And it is embedded deep enough that Mark’s beautiful soul doesn’t even care anymore about the earth and its fishes or whatever is endangered by cigarettes lodged in the water system.

It’s selfish, but they just want more peaceful lives at this point, really. 

Jungwoo is grounded back to reality when he hears the flush, followed by a tiny there we go coming from Mark as he carefully puts the lid back to its body. 

The younger then turns to put the empty jar on the shelf under the sink, and when he’s done, he runs out to his room, his guitar in his hand. Meanwhile, Jungwoo grabs a toothbrush Mark keeps for him along with the toothpaste. When Mark comes back guitar-free, he did the same: grabbing the one that was next to Jungwoo’s and proffers it at him so he can put some toothpaste on it. 

In front of the mirror, everything somehow seems much more amusing than it actually is. It starts with Jungwoo nudging Mark’s side, and the other only grins foolishly through the mirror, foamy mouth and all. Mark spits them out, then runs his hand under the tap. A splash towards Jungwoo, and their laughter fills the space some more. 

Jungwoo treasures these moments a lot, that is why he was almost scared of never getting this back when Mark starts to put a distance between them.

They managed to spritz Febreze all over the bathroom after that, as well as going in and out to make sure the smell does not linger. With a hope that the dorm auntie won’t realise anything suspicious later in the morning, Jungwoo closes the door and they grin at each other, amused over a smoking hideout like they were high schoolers smoking in tiny alleyways for the first time.

The moment Mark walks over to his bed, Jungwoo follows him, naturally. When Mark throws the blanket over and climbs on the bed, Jungwoo climbs as well, also naturally. They spent some time just being on their phone, Jungwoo scrolling through the news, while he is sure Mark is scrolling through Twitter on his undisclosed account. Jungwoo had been shown so much interesting stuff from it and had concluded that he is never going to touch it. Bubble is enough. 

They lay down for a while, and Jungwoo feels so comfortable that he starts scooting closer, tangling his bare leg around Mark’s, just as bare.

Suddenly, Mark jerks up, a horrified squeak coming from his mouth. “Fuck!”

“What is it?” Jungwoo wants to panic, but he is too used to Mark’s overreactions. He guesses this is news of his favourite musicians releasing an album, or other Hollywood news that involve celebrities Jungwoo doesn’t care much about.

Or is it...?

“N— nothing.”

“Huh? What is it, Mark? Let me see,” Jungwoo pleads, peeking into Mark’s phone.

“It’s someone!” Mark holds the phone out of his reach. “Releasing a song. You don’t care about it.”

He’s right, Jungwoo doesn’t. But Jungwoo is also certain he is lying right now. He squeezes Mark’s arm.

“Someone who?” He asks, at the same time Mark’s breath sounds like it got constricted in his lungs. “What song?”

Mark’s gaze is breaking away—to Jungwoo’s nose, Jungwoo’s lips, to the very interesting bathroom door on the other side of the room. “It’s a very obscure artist. It’s not your thing.” 

Where his hand is grazing Mark’s chest, Jungwoo feels something akin to heartbeats thrumming abnormally. He tries hard not to smile. “It’s not my thing, I see.”

“Anyway,” the younger continues. He takes the rounded glasses off his face and puts them away onto the bedside table. “Let’s sleep.” 

“Oh, so it’s okay if I sleep here tonight?” Jungwoo detaches himself from Mark’s arm. “Isn’t manager-hyung—?”

“He isn’t going back to the dorm tonight,” Mark squeaks, scarily quick for some reason. “He won’t. He told me earlier. When we were in the bathroom? He texted me.”

“Oh, okay.” Jungwoo’s lips turn into a more relaxed smile. “Do you want me to go over to his bed, or—”

“Just sleep here,” he says. Even he looks surprised by the speed of his answer. Jungwoo cannot lie, he finds the entire thing amusing. “If you’d like?”

Cute.

There is deliberation in his tone, a wary expression on his face. Is he finally giving Jungwoo the cuddle pass again? Because, if Jungwoo should be honest, he had missed cuddling with Mark to sleep. Especially since he knows Mark.

Unlike his unbelievable coolness in front of the camera, trying not to reciprocate the skinship with every ounce of his being, the Mark when all the cameras are off is the Mark who initiates the touch. Head snuggling up onto Jungwoo’s neck, nose breathing into the skin just under the collar of his t-shirt, and a kiss at a peak of his collarbone. Starting with a smooch, and soon enough Mark was sucking on it, soft yet unwavering. When he finished it with another kiss, and he tore himself away, there was only silence that followed. Mark fell asleep on Jungwoo’s chest like he hadn’t just made out with his clavicle.

That is why when Mark started to idiotically crumble at Jungwoo’s little touch—just like what’s happening now, because contrary to popular belief, Jungwoo is quick at this kind of thing—he finds it utterly strange.

Of course, Jungwoo has not once minded the love bite. He believes that little kisses here and there between bros are totally fine. A hickey? Sure. That too, why not.

It’s just that, how come a person who was giving him one with no warning suddenly acts all chaste around him? What could have been discussed in the night where Mark had gone off to the fifth floor and talked with Donghyuck until dawn? Some eye-opening moments must have happened then, but Jungwoo could only wonder at this point.

“Uh.” Mark’s voice breaks all of Jungwoo's trains of thoughts. Since Jungwoo has been lost in silly speculation and being silent for some time, Mark goes again, probably suffering from the silence, “I thought maybe we can sleep together tonight. Like the usual?”

The corner of Jungwoo’s lips raises in amusement, only a percentage of a second, before he finally goes, “Aw, are you lonely, Mark?”

Jungwoo kind of regrets the joke, because Mark only stares, an unreadable expression all over his face.

2:27

Here is a fact: Mark attaches words to the people around him.

He knows it’s not fair to condense a person’s existence into one sentence, let alone a single word, but Mark loves words and even more than them, he loves his people. Sometimes, there is just one word that sticks out among others. Like how he puts brother for Johnny, trust for Jaehyun, familiarity for Donghyuck, and adoration for Sicheng. He has words for everyone he holds dearly and he even made new ones for those he just got to know (he recently thought of friend for Yangyang and little brother for Sungchan).

In some ways, those words could even define Mark himself, and he is confident about it. But there is one that was made just so perfectly for them that Mark can’t ever relate. It is the one he makes for Jungwoo: intimacy.

Because Jungwoo is everything about a presence too strong, too magnetic, that when Jungwoo isn’t around, it is easy to ache even more. He is all about the relentless effort to give Mark a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the head, another hug from the back, until Mark just accepted them all, which was something close to magic considering Mark despised all of those. He accepted them all until he no longer just accepted them but now he reciprocates, getting satisfaction by the feeling that he can just melt into Jungwoo. 

The affection leaves him wanting more, the addicting touch more than any nicotine could ever be.

A drug. And Mark needs his fix.

Jungwoo sees right through him, it seems, when he asked if Mark was lonely.

“Well, I—” Mark sputters, then chokes on nothing.

“That’s okay, I’m just kidding,” Jungwoo cuts him off, and Mark is sincerely grateful to be cut off because he doesn’t really have a good enough response for Jungwoo’s question. 

All he got was, “Yeah, I guess I am fucking lonely,” and nothing else. Because Lee Donghyuck could be anything and everything at the same time, but one thing he will never be is wrong. Mark learned that through numerous instances of tasting bitter defeat after little arguments with the younger.

And Mark is in the middle of thinking about the kind of comments he will get next time when he updates Donghyuck about this particular moment, but his brain fails to work when Jungwoo pulls on his torso, automatically lowering him down until he lays properly on the pillow.

“You said let’s sleep, but you’re just sitting there.”

Jungwoo pulls some more, this time to settle his head on Mark’s neck. 

His body is very close to tensing up again, but he tries to take a deep breath this time. He can’t be so stiff every time Jungwoo touches him because it's upsetting, actually. He was the one who left a hickey on Jungwoo, why is he cowardly running away from him now?

Boldly, he stretches out his right arm to go around Jungwoo’s back.

Ah, he misses this. Even though his chest is currently the opposite of calm.

“Oh?” A confused noise comes out of Jungwoo. “What the hell? Why is your heartbeat going so fast?”

Oh god. Idiot Mark. 

Of course, Jungwoo could hear his heart thumping in his chest, he is right next to it.

“Uh? Is it?” A dumb response, Mark could only wish Jungwoo is not so clever this late in the night.

Instead of answering, Jungwoo lifts his head and moves Mark’s other arm under him, so he can properly settle into the hug.

Good, at least Jungwoo is letting the craziness in Mark’s heart go.

They stay like that for a while: Mark, breathing in the scent of Jungwoo’s hair as he tries to calm his heart down. A comfortable silence enlacing them until Jungwoo pulls himself away in a jerk. Mark frowns, but he couldn’t ask a question under the unfaltering gaze of Jungwoo.

What is it now?  

Mark is going to explode for sure.

“Mark,” Jungwoo calls his name. There is still no hint of those eyes faltering, it seems, so Mark just has to meet them head-on.

“Hm?”

“Remember the last time we slept like this and you left a hickey on me?”

“Oh my god,” he utters, defeated. All the blood in his body seems to run up to gather at his face so he buries it on Jungwoo’s shoulder, just next to his neck. “Dammit, I thought you will never bring it up.”

“I wasn’t going to! Because believe me, I’m cool with that type of stuff.”

The collar of Jungwoo’s t-shirt was pulled somewhere along the way, so Mark’s nose is directly on Jungwoo’s collarbone, the very same spot he had kissed last week (made out with, really). He doesn’t even care about the thunder in his chest anymore—this position is so much better than looking straight at Jungwoo as he talks about all this.

“But, you’ve been… so awkward whenever I touch you now. And like, I don’t know. What’s up with that?” 

Mark feels Jungwoo’s hand on his back, rubbing little circles.

“It’s— so, I talked with Haechannie—”

“I guessed that.”

“—and he told me I was touch-starved? And like, I’m not even denying that. It’s just— after he said it, I realised how much I enjoy cuddling with you.” He hears a snort, but there is no other reaction so he continues, “more than enjoy, actually. I can’t believe I realised this after I left a hickey on you.”

“Realised what exactly?’

“I don’t know. Something like, oh, do I like guys?” The last part was a bit muffled, but Mark is sure his voice still caries through the empty room. He is also sure that he is rambling at this point, blurting out whatever comes up in his mind. “Anyway, it was a bit like a revelation to me, to be honest.”

“Wait, you didn’t know? I was so sure about it when you start going onto my neck and leaving kisses there.”

The right arm that was around Jungwoo is now encircling his armpit and Mark’s fingers grab onto Jungwoo’s other shoulder, the one not on the pillow, to keep his face down and hidden.

“But like, it’s okay if you just knew, though. Glad I can be of help with that.” Jungwoo’s voice is calm and steady, a stark opposite of Mark’s entire being right now. “Or do you want to make sure?”

“What do you mean?” His voice is muffled against Jungwoo’s shirt.

“If you like men or not?” Under Jungwoo’s chin, Mark flinches. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Dude.”

Jungwoo’s hand is brushing Mark’s back even carefully now. Delicate touches but still doing a very good job at consoling him. If there’s anything Jungwoo is amazing at, it would be the magic that brings other people’s storms down to the ground. 

“You don’t have to, but I just feel like this is the perfect chance to confirm it? I swear I’m not just horny or anything.”

Mark finally looks up at Jungwoo, face all hot.

“Dude— are you— you’re being serious right now, right?”

“Oh yeah, Mark, I’m totally joking about offering you to kiss me in the mouth.”

“No, no, no. Let’s try not to be sarcastic. Do you want me to do it or not?”

“Yes?” 

There is a second of silence, then Jungwoo opens his mouth to say something else, but Mark stops it with a slam of his lips. A peck and he pulls away to study Jungwoo’s reaction. The older blinks, a very subtle nod to tell Mark he can keep going, so he goes again.

Maybe, Donghyuck is right: Mark knows what to do. It takes time, but Mark still gets there. And If a month ago Mark was told he’d be kissing his bandmate on his bed, he’d have belched at the thought, but what is he, if not the consistent efforts of improving and changing himself? 

Because, God, it feels so right it’s ridiculous.

If Mark tries to make some sense out of this he will just falter and pull away, so he refuses to think. Instead, he deepens the kiss, starting from nibbling on the upper lip before his tongue slips inside with confidence.

Jungwoo’s lips feel understandably dry, being in the middle of winter and all, but as soon as his tongue is inside, he tastes sweetness, warmth, along with the lingering mint from the toothpaste—and everything becomes even better. 

It’s nice.

He kissed girls before. The childhood crush he met again when he finally came back to Canada? Yeah, that was awkward (“you left a boy and now you came back a man, huh?”). But he was at least grateful he could share his second kiss with someone important.

And there was the one with Herin—too stupid a story for him to even recount. But the gist is: his experiences are countable with one hand, all not very wonderful.

And they did not feel like this. He’s not sure if the reason is that it’s Jungwoo—so comfortable, so close, all-very-familiar—or if all guys would feel just like this. But it doesn’t matter because right now it is him Mark is kissing. The pillar he likes to hold onto when he wavers in his steps, so reliable, so steady, and very beautiful too. Mark often catches himself staring at the older with wonder and awe. 

And now he is kissing him.

Gasping for air, he finally withdraws, then takes a moment to behold the person in front of him. How surprising, that after all week shivering under Jungwoo’s little touches, the very thing that calms him down now is kissing him.

“How is it?” Jungwoo asks, lips beaten red and slick with both of their spit.

Mark tries to find a word to describe it, but when he cannot quite find it he just stares until he goes in for another kiss. Some more nibbles and his tongue reaches in again. It coats around Jungwoo’s and he tastes the bitter aftertaste of cigarettes between the mint.

Fuzzy, he detaches himself again and goes straight for Jungwoo’s jaw then down to his neck.

“Mark,” the older calls, but Mark is too out of it to hear. 

“Mark—” Jungwoo tries again. “You’re gonna freak out the stylist noonas.”

“I’ll buy you a concealer,” he replies in between the kisses and sucking. “I’ll even put them on myself.”

“The hyungs—”

It’s kind of frustrating, so instead of giving an answer, Mark only pulls him closer, leaving a trail of soft kisses on Jungwoo’s shoulder blade. That’s the closest thing to stopping that he can do.

“I’m sorry,” he utters, on the spot right between Jungwoo’s neck and his shoulder’s joint. “I’m sorry— I shouldn’t be like this. You said no.”

“No, no— actually,” Jungwoo puts a hand on Mark’s hair and brushes down on it. There it is, the magic again. “You can do whatever you want.”

“And you mean that?” Mark pulls away, eyes fixated on Jungwoo’s. To be exact, Jungwoo’s lips, and the way it looks wet and obscene. “Because I will literally do whatever I want.”

“Do it.” The gaze is piercing right through Mark and it does not fall even once. “Just buy me concealers that will actually work.”

Mark groans, and if Jungwoo thinks it is for the greedy demand, he’s mistaken. It’s for the thought that he is allowed to actually devour Jungwoo’s neck right this second.

Quickly, he pulls his arm out from under Jungwoo. He lightly pushes Jungwoo until he is no longer on his side but flat on his back, and he puts his palms on either side of the older, trapping him.

The warm glow of Mark’s bedside lamp is pronouncing Jungwoo’s features carefully. Beautiful.

Like a man possessed, Mark goes down again on the crook of Jungwoo’s neck like it will appease his hunger. 

“Shit,” Jungwoo curses under him, followed by a noise Mark often hears anywhere else around the dorm. Mark could swear that this guy moans for a living or something. “You do this shit often?”

Another groan, this time is a disagreeing one.

That’s the craziest thing, actually. The fact that Mark moves in such a way as if he had done this his whole life. He will aim for a spot, and the movement Jungwoo makes to let more areas of his neck exposed is a telling that he has picked the right one.

“Fuck. You’re so good at it, though.”

“Mhm,” Mark hums, he doesn’t even know why he is agreeing with it. He is focusing on the stretch of his skin in front of him and how ridiculously sweet Jungwoo tastes. “That good?”

Jungwoo giggles when Mark goes upward and the tip of his nose shoves onto the sensitive part of his jaw. “That good.”

“Can I do this everyday?” Mark suddenly asks in the middle of the haze in his brain. “I think I can do without smoking now.”

“Stupid, what’s smoking got to do with giving me fucking hickeys?”

There is heaviness in Mark’s chest as Jungwoo curses yet again. Not the bad kind of heavy, just the one that makes him exhaling harder than necessary. He releases Jungwoo's neck and leans back to look at Jungwoo’s eyes. 

“Seriously. Can I?”

Jungwoo looks like he’s got his soul snatched away, leaving him only with the shell of his body and the ability to heave in a sporadic pattern of breaths.

“If we don’t get in trouble after this.”

Mark decides that whatever sort of trouble coming up is worth the rumbling in his chest—the good kind, of course—and reaches in for the edge of Jungwoo's collarbone again. 

12:34 PM

Mark was dreaming of cupcakes, creams, fudges, and everything enticingly sweet that he abnormally enjoys way too much when he heard the sound of his door being opened. He immediately jerks up, the sensitive sense of danger activating even in his sleep.

“Mark—”

“No!” He tugs the blanket and covers Jungwoo’s head with it. 

“What?” Taeil just looms on the opening of Mark's bedroom door, too surprised to take a step forward.

“Just, no. Hyung," Mark says, although he immediately regrets how indignant he sounds. "Good morning. I will be out in a second.”

“Is that Jungwoo?”

The curious figure in question writhes beneath the blanket.

“We will be out, hyung.”

“You don’t have to. I was just asking for the guitar—”

“Hyung. Please. I will bring it out.”

There is another shift and then a groan from under the blanket, Jungwoo is wriggling to escape. “Why are you people so fucking noisy?” He grumbles, voice coming out muffled, and Mark could commend his effort to get out but he holds him still. It’s too dangerous. 

“Come on, hyung.” Suddenly, Jaehyun appears behind Taeil and the older is escorted, properly held by the sides and turned in the direction of the living room.

“The guitar’s right there, though? I could just take it?” Taeil’s voice is decreasing in volume as he gets further away from the room. But Jaehyun comes back, peeping at the room with a distrusting look. 

“What did you do this time?” He half-whispered.

“Nothing—” 

Mark is cut off when Jungwoo’s tug on the blanket got stronger and he successfully opens the blanket out of his face.

“I can’t breathe, damn it!”

He sits with a scowl and at least five hickeys on his neck. It’s too abstract and everywhere that Mark can’t even begin to count. Instead, Mark’s eyes went wide with how scandalous Jungwoo looks, something that if the media sees it will make him trend for a week. 

Meanwhile, Jaehyun gapes. A sigh comes out of him, then two fingers fly up to pinch the bridge of his nose. That seems like a headache coming fast, Mark feels bad for him.

“Do you need the concealer again?” His voice is low and whispering.

The moment Jungwoo realised what is happening, his eyes widen, then he gasps and grabs at his neck. He winces as his hand comes into contact with the dizzying array of light red and purple all across his neck. 

“Fuck.” Mark buries his face into his palms, looking absolutely ready to cry. “I think we do, hyung. Thanks.”

“Maybe lock the door next time,” Jaehyun reminds them as he closes the door shut, getting the concealer, Mark hopes. 

In a daze, he looks over at Jungwoo and the older giggles when their movements match each other. 

“You can laugh now, huh?”

Jungwoo grins. “Don’t worry about, it. Jaehyun-hyung will keep it for us.”

“I’m not worried about him.” Mark leans closer, a thumb rubbing circles on the back of Jungwoo’s hand, perched on Mark’s thigh, while the other reaches up. Carefully, he slides two fingers along the length of Jungwoo’s collarbone. “But this... oh my God. What have I done?”

He rubs a palm over the side of his neck, the colour is scattering, and the edges break messily. 

“I know right? I thought you were possessed last night.” Jungwoo tried to steal a glance at the hickeys but gives up along the way.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jungwoo answers, soft and easy. Then, he blinks and to Mark, it feels slow and fluttering, the eyelashes, and his own heart. 

“Can I kiss you?” Mark asks, somehow dazed.

The smile that Jungwoo gives him is enough to tug on Mark’s heartstrings and he briefly wonders if the reason he acted weird around Jungwoo is not what he thought it was.

“Just hurry before he comes back in.”

And with the goosebumps trickling on his skin, Mark dives into Jungwoo again—surely, this time.