Archive of Our Own

prologue 

@01ZHONG:

bruh I keep forgetting RAs are actual students. Saw mine passed out in a bush last night. 

@onyourm__ark: 

to my resident who saw me passed out in a bush last night, no you didn’t <3 - your RA.

1 

In all fairness, Mark Lee is a pretty good RA. 

He bakes cookies for everyone on the floor and kills the bugs in the laundry room. He sends daily affirmations into the floor group chat and lets everyone know his door is always open to talk if they’re experiencing burnout. Most people on their floor think it’s super corny of him, but Chenle thinks it’s sweet. Mark Lee is sweet, helpful, attentive, he helped Chenle swap out the used dorm mattress for his new one on the first day of school. He always sees Mark around campus, hosting KASA events and helping professors. They’re even in the same degree, and Mark has lent Chenle his old textbooks on many occasions. 

Mark was the first person he met on campus, his reliable and easygoing impression really stuck with Chenle thereafter. He made being a college student who juggled a million things at once look easy. Chenle knows if he needs anything, he can go to Mark Lee. 

“Yo, Chenle,” Jisung says—voice at a louder volume than appropriate—as they’re walking back to the dorms after a midnight snack run. “Isn’t that the RA you have a crush on?” 

“I do not have a crush on him ,” Chenle hisses, panicked, eyes darting to make sure no one heard him. “I just think he’s nice! That’s all! You know he helped me—” 

“—change your mattress on the first day of school,” Jisung finished boredly, “Yeah, I know Chenle, you never shut the fuck up about it. Anyways, I think Mr. Nice Guy is passed out in that bush over there.” 

Chenle frowns, muttering a disbelieved, “That doesn’t sound like Mark.” 

He follows Jisung’s line of sight to find a Mark-shaped lump laying in the bushes. He’s face down, but the navy blue head of hair is all too familiar. Chenle exchanges a worried look with Jisung before they both approach the boy. 

His face is half-covered by the leaves of the bush. His arms are folded up, head resting in them as he sleeps. There’s twigs in his hair and dirt on his face. That can’t be comfortable. 

“Mark, are you good?” 

No response. 

Chenle nudges Mark’s side with his shoe. 

“Mark.”

He groans. 

“You’re alive!” Chenle says cheerily, “That’s a relief, I wanted to file a complaint about the laundry room. It keeps eating my coins.” 

He lets out a string of incoherent noises. Chenle looks back at Jisung, who shrugs unhelpfully. His fingers dig through their tote bag full of snacks and he pulls out a Melona bar. Chenle rolls his eyes as Jisung begins unwrapping it without a care for the passed out boy before them. 

He crouches down next to Mark and pokes his cheek. 

“Hey buddy, you wanna get up?” 

“Just leave me here to die,” Mark groans. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Chenle replies, “Your cookie recipe will die with you, and I just can’t do that to society.” 

Mark’s eye cracks open, his pupils pitch black and completely blank. 

“You like my cookies?” he slurs out, voice soft. 

Chenle’s brain short-circuits, his can’t quite comprehend that this is the same Mark Lee who has always seemed so put-together and perfect. He pulls at Mark’s arm and wraps it around his shoulder, struggling to pull him up. He shoots Jisung an annoyed look. 

“Some help would be nice.”

Jisung shrugs, halfway through his Melona bar, “He’s not my RA.” 

“I hate you. Hand me my water bottle.” 

Jisung digs through the tote bag again and pulls out Chenle’s water bottle. Chenle takes it gratefully before turning his attention back to Mark. 

“Dude, you gotta help me out here.” 

Mark lets out a pained groan as Chenle pulls him up until he’s sitting on his knees, white jeans staining with dirt. 

“Wait, wait,” Mark says, tone turning urgent as Chenle tries to bring him to his feet. 

“What is it?”

“‘M gonna hurl.” 

He lurches forward and throws up right into the bushes. 

“Gross,” Jisung comments. Chenle sighs. 

“You can get going,” he says to Jisung, getting tired of his pointless commentary. “I can take him back to the dorms.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says easily, like the brat he is. He isn’t even going to pretend to offer help. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” 

“And don’t eat my snacks!” Chenle calls as he turns to walk away. Jisung responds with a non-commital noise, flashing him a peace sign in goodbye. 

Mark is on his hands and knees, making wheezing noises into the bush. Chenle winces, reaching over and rubbing his back. He feels for Mark, he really does. The only thing worse than throwing up in a bush is being caught doing it. 

“There, there,” he mutters awkwardly. Sitting down next to Mark and rubbing his back with calming circular motions. “Let it all out.”

Mark does let it all out. It takes a while, but eventually, his head emerges from the bushes. Blue hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and eyes blown wide. He wipes his mouth with the bottom of his hoodie. Chenle grimaces.

Mark blinks twice, seeming to finally register Chenle in front of him.

“Chenle Zhong?”

“You know my name?” Chenle asks.

“Of course,” Mark’s words crash into each other, “You’re my resident. And you have cool hair.”

Chenle’s face heats up, running a hand through his freshly dyed two-toned hair. Pink streaks peeking through the black. His perpetual air of confidence disappears and all he can do is laugh awkwardly.

“Thanks,” he says bashfully. God, he’s never been bashful in his entire life. He’s glad Jisung isn’t here to make fun of him.

Thankfully, Mark is too out of it to notice.

Chenle remembers the water bottle in his hand and holds it out to Mark.

“You should have some water, sober up.”

Mark nods slowly, reaching for the bottle. When he struggles to get it open, Chenle tuts and takes the bottle from him again and unscrews the cap.

“Do you need me to feed you too?” Chenle jokes.

“Probably,” Mark mutters, completely serious. He’s swaying forward like his head is too heavy for his neck. Oh dear.

“I’m not doing that,” Chenle decides. How is he the embarrassed one when Mark is the one who puked in public?

Mark takes the water bottle and clumsily drinks from it. Half the water misses his mouth and dribbles down his chin and over his shirt. But it’s fine. Chenle isn’t watching.

“Feel better?” Chenle asks.

Mark rocks forward and knocks his head into Chenle’s chest. Eyes growing heavy, he mumbles, “No. I’m sleepy.”

Chenle sighs. He’s seriously a saint for dealing with this.

“You can’t sleep here,” Chenle says, carefully pushing him away, “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the dorm.”

Mark looks up at him, brown eyes shining and impossibly large, like a kitten. “Carry me?”

Chenle flushes down to his toes. “Absolutely not. You’re a grown ass man.”

Mark pouts. His RA who is two years his senior pouts at him. Chenle is overcome with violent affection. He wants to both squish Mark’s cheeks and punt him.

Turns out that Mark is a cutesy and clingy drunk. Chenle doesn’t know what to do with this information, he files it for later. For Mark’s sake, Chenle hopes he’s blackout drunk enough to remember none of this. He doubts Mark wants any of his residents to see him in this state.

“I don’t think I could carry you if I tried,” Chenle says, “But feel free to lean on me as we walk.”

He stands, holding his hand out. Thankfully, Mark doesn’t argue further. He wordlessly takes Chenle’s hand up lets himself get hoisted up. He throws his arm around Chenle’s shoulder and leans against him as they make their way to the dorm building.

Mark hums to a song that Chenle doesn’t recognise as he drags them to the doors. He lets go of Mark for a split second to take out his key card, and the boy whines and wraps his arms around Chenle’s waist in response. Chenle doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the night. He unlocks the doors and they make their way up to Mark’s floor.

When they finally reach Mark’s dorm room, he pulls away from Chenle with a blissed out smile. “Thanks for taking care of me, Chenle” he says sleepily. “You’re really nice.”

He disappears into his room. And Chenle spends a good ten minutes gaping at the closed door like an idiot.

(And if he falls asleep that night with the warm memory of Mark’s flushed cheeks and wide smile replaying in his head, that isn’t really anyone’s business). 

2

Chenle isn’t expecting to see Mark again less than eight hours later. He especially isn’t expecting to see Mark at his place of work. 

Chenle works at a dumpling place just off campus. it’s a regular hang-out spot for students so it’s not like Mark being there is unusual. However, Mark being there at eleven in the morning after spending the night before puking his guts out, is strange. 

Monday mornings are usually hectic, Chenle is whizzing through tables and struggling to keep up with orders. When he finally has a minute to catch his breath, he cocks his hip against the entrance to the kitchen and yells out: 

“Hold the mushroom for table three, position two is allergic!” 

Xiuying, restaurant owner and short firecracker of an old woman with a scowl that could rival Chenle’s own mother, whacks him with a tea towel. 

“Why didn’t you add that to the docket?” she scolds, ignoring Chenle’s yelp of pain, “I already made the dumplings.” 

“Sorry, auntie!” Chenle whines, rubbing his arm, “It completely slipped my mind, I barely got any sleep last night. Being a straight A student is tiring, you know.” 

Xiuying rolls her eyes, refusing to give Chenle the sympathy points he was hoping to earn. “That’s no excuse,” she tuts, “You were probably up all night partying or whatever it is irresponsible kids like you do.” 

Chenle huffs, half amused and offended. 

“What are you still doing here? Get out of my sight,” she moves to whack him again but Chenle jumps out of the way with a laugh, “And remember to put the dietries on the damn docket!”

“Aye, aye, auntie,” Chenle salutes before walking out of the kitchen. He crashes right into Kun. 

“Ge!” he says, grabbing onto his manager’s arm before he can escape. “Please, please, cover the floor for me. If I have to hear the lady on table six call me Chen-lay one more time, I will explode.” 

Kun sighs, “All you do during shifts is complain, why do we keep you around, again?” 

“Because my charming and mood-making personality brings joy to our customer’s dull lives, duh.”

“Right, duh,” Kun says dryly, “Fine, I’ll cover the floor. You can take the front desk.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” Chenle says, “I’ll shout you some dumplings after work, on the house!”

“You have no authority to do that,” Kun says, before walking away.

Chenle grins happily at Kun’s retreating head, before making his way to the front desk. 

“I’ll be right with you,” he says to the first customer, eyes trained to the POS system as he logs in.

“Oh,” the person replies with a voice that is impossible for Chenle to forget. “Um. Hi, Chenle.”

Chenle’s gaze shoots up, realising Mark Lee is standing right in front of him. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, offering Chenle a nervous giggle. His hair is stuffed into a beanie and he’s buried in a jacket zipped up to his face.

“Mark,” Chenle blurts, surprised, “You look terrible”

Mark blinks. Visibly caught off guard by Chenle’s honesty. “Gee, thanks.”

Chenle isn’t wrong. His skin is pale and heavy bags drop from his eyes, rocking that hungover chic that Chenle is way too familiar with. But he still shouldn’t have said it.

“I—well—I didn’t mean it like that, ” Chenle splutters, “I just didn’t expect to see you again so soon, especially this early. Aren’t you hungover?”

“Incredibly,” Mark says blankly, “But I also have a class in an hour and desperately need to get food in me.”

“Right!” Chenle says, remembering that he’s at work. “Of course, what can I get for you?”

His eyes scan over the menu. “I’ll have ten pieces of pork dumplings.”

“Have here or takeaway?” Chenle asks as he types the order out.

“Um,” Mark hesitates, “Have here?”

Chenle ignores that he phrases it like a question. Mark seems to phrase everything like a question. Like he’s constantly unsure of what he really wants.

“Perfect, table four should be ready for you,” Chenle says, looking back up at Mark. He really looks worse for wear. His hands are shaking at their sides and he can barely keep his eyes open, sensitive to the glaring daylight. Chenle’s frowns in sympathy. “I can order some hot soup for you, if you’d like?”

Mark’s eyes light up, looking back at the menu.

“That’s not on the menu?”

“I know, but I can have it made special for you.”

“You’d do that?” Mark asks softly.

“Of course,” Chenle replies, “Auntie’s chicken soup works wonders for hangovers.”

Mark’s lips curl up, “Thanks dude, seriously.”

“No worries,” Chenle says, heartbeat picking up from the way Mark looks at him. Those stupid big eyes are causing Chenle serious physical pain. He hands Mark his table number. “You can go ahead and take your seat, your food will be ready soon.”

Mark hesitates, like he wants to say more. But he doesn’t, he takes the table number from Chenle’s hands and mutters out a quick ‘ thank you!’ before scurrying away in the direction Chenle pointed to.

After getting smacked by Xiuying’s tea towel a second time and a brief argument ending with Chenle borderline begging: “Auntie, please make your world famous chicken soup so I can impress a boy.” Chenle walks out of the kitchen with Mark’s order.

He finds Mark asleep at his table. Head resting atop his arms, eyes fluttering shut as the hood of his jacket is pulled over his face. He looks so peaceful. But he can’t stay here if he isn’t going to eat, it’s restaurant policy. Chenle sets the food down on the table, and when that doesn’t stir him, Chenle knocks his knuckles over the wooden table. Mark jerks upward, blinking quickly before realising it was Chenle who disturbed him.

“Here’s your dumplings and soup.”

“Thanks,” he says, “Sorry for falling asleep on your table. My head is pounding.”

“You’re all good,” Chenle assures, “I’m sure Kun and his boyfriend have done much worse on these tables.”

Mark makes a face. “Should you be telling me that?”

“Probably not. Do you want company?”

“Aren’t you on the clock?”

“Give me a sec,” Chenle says, turning his head and screeching out, “ Kun ge, I’m going on my break!” in Mandarin. He grins with satisfaction as Kun jumps in his spot from across the restaurant.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to fucking yell?” he screams back.

A few customers startle at the volume of their voices. It’s fine, Chenle thinks as he plops himself into the chair across Mark, it’s part of their restaurant’s charm.

He looks back at Mark to find him smiling.

“Thanks for the soup,” he says, pulling it towards him. “And um. For making sure I didn’t die in a pool of my own puke last night.”

“Of course,” Chenle says easily, “I can’t let my RA die on me.”

“Right, because my cookie recipe dies with me.”

Chenle’s cheeks dust with pink. “I’m surprised you remember that, you were so far gone last night.”

Mark nods, his own cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Unfortunately, I remember most of last night. My brain is cruel like that.”

Chenle laughs. “What even compelled you to get shitfaced on a Monday night?”

Mark looks sheepish, “My friend was having a party and well, I just can’t resist some Fireball.”

God, he’s such a dude. Chenle’s brain is struggling to comprehend that pride and joy of the engineering department Mark Lee and drinks Fireball on a weeknight Mark Lee are the same person. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Mark says conversationally, in between loud slurps of soup. 

“I’ve been working here since Freshman year, I kind of just wandered in as a lost international student and auntie took me in,” he cracks an evil grin, “I think she’s starting to regret it though.” 

Mark tilts his head, teasing, “Auntie?” 

Chenle’s face heats up, again. What is wrong with him? He isn’t usually this easily flustered. If anything, Chenle is usually the one doing the flustering. 

“Xuiying,” he corrects, “She’s the owner, miserable little lady.” 

Mark giggles. “That’s cute. I get what it’s like to be a lonely international student, so I’m glad you found a sense of home somewhere.” 

Chenle is full on blushing now. He shifts his gaze back to the front desk where more people are crowding around it. 

“I should get back to work,” Chenle says, “Enjoy your meal, Mark.” 

Mark has his spoon between his teeth, a smile curling around it. He’s so fucking cute. Chenle needs to evacuate the situation immediately. 

“Thank you, Chenle,” he says, “Hopefully I’ll have my shit together next time I see you.” 

3

Second year engineering is no fucking joke. By mid-semester Chenle is barely keeping his head above water trying to juggle back to back assignments, work, and exams that are looming just around the corner. Because of all this, he is not immune to 3:00am convenience store runs amidst his all-nighters. 

Currently, he’s sprawled out across the floor of Taehyun and Jisung’s dorm, his textbooks spread out around him as he tries to decipher his own messy notes. He can barely keep his eyes open, let alone determine the difference between the letters and numbers. He’s struggling to focus, and it doesn’t help that Taehyun and Jisung won’t stop bickering. 

“I’m just saying,” Taehyun is saying in that patronising tone of his that only Jisung lets him get away with––if Chenle wasn’t agonising over his notes, he would reach over and smack Taehyun himself— “If Peter Parker knew what they were fighting for in Civil War, he would have teamed with Cap, he’s historically known for being anti-government.”

“I don’t think he would’ve been Team Cap and Bucky beating the shit out of Tony, but go off, I guess,” Jisung counters. 

They’re both sitting on their respect beds pushed on either side of the cramped dorm room, bouncing arguments at each other like a tennis ball. Chenle is in the middle, on the ground and starting to regret his life choices. 

“I’m talking about the accords, Jisung,” Taehyun says, pushing his laptop away so he can properly look at Jisung while they argue. Taehyun is a hard shell to crack when it comes to studying, he’s always hyper-focused on his work—it’s the sole reason Chenle chooses to study with him––so the fact that Jisung can distract him enough from work to argue about pop culture says a lot. “It goes against everything Spiderman stands for, and it doesn’t stay true to the comics!” 

“Learn how to separate the movies from the comics.” 

“I can’t!” Taehyun argues, he’s kneeling on his bed now, waving his arms like there should be a pinboard covered in pictures and red thread behind him. “Spiderman is a symbol for anti-capitalism. He’s supposed to fight against systems, not for them. In what world would he join the billionaire’s team?” 

“Hey Socrates, it’s a fucking Marvel movie,” Jisung says dryly, “You always get so pretentious about these things.” 

“I’m not pretentious,” Taehyun screeches. 

Chenle’s pencil snaps between his fingers.

“Guys!” he yells. Jisung flinches and Taehyun pauses midway through launching his pillow at him. “Please be quiet, I’m trying to study for the electronics test tomorrow.” 

“Oh right,” Taehyun mumbles, gaze shifting to his miserable pile of abandoned books, “The test. I was studying for that too. We can continue this conversation later, Jisung.” 

Chenle scoffs. Conversation is a funny way to put it, he would call it weird nerdy foreplay. 

“Boo!” Jisung croons immaturely, flopping back onto his bed. “You guys are so boring.” 

Chenle scowls. Jisung isn’t even in engineering. He’s an English major and finished all his big assignments earlier in the week. 

“Are you just here to be annoying?” he asks bitterly. 

Jisung huffs, “This is my dorm, in case you forgot.” 

Chenle is about to snarl something nasty back when he catches Taehyun’s eyes, and the subtle but stern shake of his head. He’s wearing his ‘ no one gets to snap at Jisung but me’ look. Which is ridiculous, considering Chenle and Jisung have snapped at each other about things much worse, but Chenle stands down. 

The mix of sleep deprivation and stress is just making him pissy, he isn’t actually mad at Jisung. He breathes in and out. 

“I’m taking a break,” he announces, shutting his book closed. “I’m going on a convenience store run, you guys want anything?” 

Taehyun shakes his head. Jisung gives him an entire list of snacks to buy. Chenle sighs and makes sure to put them all down on his notes app so he doesn’t forget. 

Chenle is grateful for the fresh air on his short walk to the convenience store. The winter chill bites at his flushed cheeks, but he doesn’t mind the cold. It’s better than being back in Jisung’s stuffy dorm that smells like sweat and boys. 

He takes his own sweet time picking out snacks, dragging his self imposed break for as long as possible. He walks through the aisles and inspects things he doesn’t plan on buying, with his arms already overflowing. He’s contemplating whether or not he needs a DIY boba kit when he spots a familiar head of fluffy blue hair at the counter. 

Chenle has barely seen Mark since the bush-puking-slash-hangover back to back incidents. With the semester picking up, Chenle only catches glances of Mark hunched over at a table in the library. He’s always surrounded by his older, cooler friends, though, so Chenle never stops to say hi. He just ducks his head and scurries off in search of Jisung and Taehyun. 

Now, however, Mark is alone and dropping his food onto the checkout counter, so Chenle makes his way towards him. 

Mark is digging through his pockets when Chenle approaches. Chenle watches in real-time as the colour drains from Mark’s face. He pats his back pockets and then his jacket pockets. 

“Oh shit,” Mark looks up at the bored cashier with a sheepish expression, “Haha, I forgot my wallet.” 

The cashier sighs. 

Chenle should probably make his presence known.

“Hey, Mark,” he says with a small wave.

Mark’s eyes snap over to him, Chenle has to hold back his giggle at the look of pure distress on his face. 

“Chenle,” he greets, cheeks warming up, “Christ, if I had a nickel for everytime you’ve seen me at my worst.”

“You still wouldn’t have enough to pay for your food,” Chenle shoots back, without missing a beat. 

Mark’s dry look in response is worth it. Chenle giggles, dropping his snacks onto the counter. He looks at Mark’s haul: a packet of gummy bears, three cans of Monster and shrimp chips. A well balanced diet. 

“I’ll pay for his and mine,” he says to the cashier. 

Mark makes a surprised noise. “You don’t have to do that–” 

“It’s fine, Mark,” Chenle says, pulling out his wallet. Thank God he remembered his, otherwise, his confidence would just be embarrassing. 

“I already owe you for so much,” Mark mumbles. 

He pays for the things, then sends a wink Mark’s way. “You can pay for my food next time.” 

The pink in Mark’s cheeks darkens, he smiles softly and says, “It’s a deal.” 

Chenle’s heart feels like it might explode, palms sweaty as he collects his items. That was a cool thing to say, right? 

They thank the cashier and hurry out of the store as their expression goes from bored to mildly annoyed. 

“Thank you, again,” Mark says, as the door closes behind him. The windy night sweeps his hair back, eyes coming alive under the neon sign of the convenience store. 

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” Chenle says. 

“You keep saving me,” Mark says, “You’re like my guardian angel, or something.” 

Chenle blames his rosy cheeks on the winter night. Definitely not because Mark Lee has a dangerous effect on his stupid heart. 

“Not buying your gummy bears wouldn’t have killed you.” 

“It definitely would’ve,” Mark says with utmost sincerity, “I have a 9:00am due date, I need my sugar.” 

Ah, the aching reminder that Chenle also has due dates to chase. He’d much rather stand out here and talk to Mark but—

“I’ve got a test to study for,” he says sadly, “I should probably get going.” 

“I can walk you back to the dorms,” Mark offers, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’m actually heading back to my friend’s dorm,” he doesn’t miss the way Mark physically deflates, “But you can walk me there, if you don’t mind.” 

“I’d love to,” Mark says, holding his arm out for Chenle to start walking, “Shall we?” 

He’s so fucking lame. Chenle wants him so much. 

They walk side by side along the snowy sidewalk, Mark rips open his packet of gummy bears and offers one to Chenle. 

“I promise I’m more put together most of the time,” Mark says as he chews, “Midterms just bring out the worst in me.” 

Chenle laughs, “It’s fine. It’s actually refreshing to see you like this” 

Mark makes a confused noise, lips tugging downward like he’s unsure if he should be offended. 

“You always seemed so perfect,” Chenle elaborates, “You’re like, the untouchable golden child of our school. Everyone loves you and you juggle a million things at once and make it look easy. It’s nice to know you’re as much of a hot mess as the rest of us.” 

Mark wiggles his eyebrows, “You think I’m hot?” 

Chenle shoves him, making Mark laugh. “A hot mess. ” 

He also thinks Mark is drop dead stupid hot, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“I never realised people see me that way,” Mark muses, which is—what the hell? How is Mark oblivious to his own reputation and why does that only make him more lovable? “I never feel perfect or like a golden child or whatever. I always feel like my head is just above water and I’m seconds away from drowning.”

Mark is looking out ahead of them, at the street lights casting hues of yellow over the fallen snow. His voice is heavy, foreign, but his words resonate under Chenle’s skin. He has the urge to reach over and pull Mark into a hug. But that would probably be inappropriate, and incredibly awkward, so he reaches over and squeezes Mark’s arm in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. 

“I know what you mean,” Chenle says, “I thought I could handle college but I’m constantly getting the rug pulled from under my feet.” 

Mark cracks a smile, “Look at us with our metaphors, we should ditch Engineering for English.” 

Chenle scoffs, “I’ve seen the word counts on those essays Jisung has to write, trust me, I’d take calculus over that any day.” 

Mark giggles, childlike and sweet, “Facts,” he pops another gummy bear into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “I think I’m handling it well enough. I always have shit to do but that’s my own fault, I sign up for everything under the sun because I don’t know how to not be busy.” 

Chenle frowns, “ You’re the one always daily reminders in the floor group chat about self-care and avoiding burnout. Don’t you practice what you preach?”

“Clearly not,” Mark reaches over and ruffles Chenle’s hair with a fond smile, “I just want my freshies to be better than me.” 

Chenle scowls and ducks away, “I’m not a freshie,” he mumbles petulantly. 

They’re almost at Jisung’s dorm building now. The walk is too short, the glass doors of the building taunt Chenle as they get closer and closer.

“I get into my head too much,” Mark says, “Sometimes I just need someone to pull me out.” 

“I can be that person,” Chenle blurts. 

Mark suddenly stops walking. They’re a few metres away from the doors. He fixes Chenle with a look that he can’t decipher. 

Fuck fuck fuck, Chenle’s brain repeats like the world’s most unhelpful mantra, idiot. You simped a little too hard.

“Do you mean that?” Mark asks, soft, sparkling obsidian eyes setting Chenle’s skin on fire. 

Chenle swallows thickly, “Of course, I’m here for you, Mark.” 

“I’m here for you too, Chenle,” he says, then hesitates, “I know you have my number for official RA stuff, but, feel free to call me if you need anything else.” 

“I can’t remember the last time I called anyone who wasn’t my mother,” Chenle teases, “Can’t I just text you like a normal person.” 

Mark pouts, “I’m a terrible texter. I prefer calling. It’s more…personal.” 

So he’s a romantic. The more Chenle learns about Mark Lee, the more he suffers. 

Chenle heaves a sigh, like Mark is asking too much of him, “It must be a generational difference. Fine, I’ll call you.” 

“Brat,” Mark says fondly. He casts a look to the dorm building, as Chenle pulls out the keycard Jisung gave him to get back in. “I’ll let you get back to studying.”

“Right. See you around?” 

Mark pulls Chenle in for a goodbye hug, arms wrapping around him in a more bro away than anything else, but it still sends Chenle’s heart racing. 

Chenle is breathless as Mark pulls away. 

“Goodnight Chenle,” he whispers, before walking away. 

Chenle is so fucked. 

4

Chenle doesn’t have to call Mark. Because Mark calls him first. The call comes at two in the morning, the first chords of All Star by Smash Mouth pulling him out of his slumber. He groggily answers the phone and snaps, “What?” because the only person who calls him at this hour is Taehyun after he watches a horror movie by himself and needs someone to talk him back to sleep. 

“Hey Chenle.”

Chenle shoots up in his bed. That is not Taehyun. His voice isn't nearly as angelic sounding as the one on the other line—from a completely unbiased perspective. 

“Mark?” his sleep ridden voice breaks. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” Mark says, sounding nervous, “Did I wake you?”

“No, not at all,” he reassures quickly, “What’s up?”

Mark makes a pained, dying animal noise. “I was stress baking in the shared kitchen and ran out of chocolate chips so I left to buy some but now I can’t get back into the dorm because I forgot my keycard.” 

He manages to say all of that in one breath. Chenle tosses his covers up and gets up from the bed, feeling around his desk for his own keycard. 

“Can you please come downstairs and let me in?” he asks, “I’m really sorry, again.” 

“Mark, slow down. It’s fine, I’m heading down now.” 

Mark lets out a sigh of relief. And then: “Also…um, I’m pretty sure I left the oven on, haha.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Thankfully, Mark hadn’t left the oven on. He had forgotten to turn it on in the first place and his batch of unbaked cookies were just sitting in the cold oven for an hour. 

“So, why are you stress baking at this hour?” Chenle asks as the two of them walk back into the kitchen after he let Mark in. 

Mark takes off his gloves and beanie, tossing it onto the kitchen counter next to his pile of ingredients. “Midterms are kicking my ass. I can’t focus but I have so much energy right now, I figured I would channel it into some baking. It’ll make the residents happy to wake up to.” 

“You’re sweet,” Chenle coos, reaching over to squish Mark’s cheeks. Mark swats him away with a glare that barely lands. “Want some company?” 

“Sure,” Mark says, “Misery loves company.”

“You are so dramatic,” Chenle says, but he stays. 

He stays because despite how good Mark’s baking is, his process is entirely clumsy. He spills half the bag of chocolate chips out of the bowl and manages to get flour in his hair when he’s kneading the cookie dough. Chenle is content to just sit there and laugh at him, but Mark drags him into helping. They’re making shapes out of the cookie dough. Mark has an impressive collection of cookie cutters, but Chenle ignores the Christmas tree and angel cutters in favour of trying to make a dog. 

“It’s just going to puff up in the oven,” Mark says, while Chenle is carefully carving a pair of ears with a fork, “You’re going to end up with a deformed dog.” 

“Rude,” Chenle says, side-eyeing Mark’s perfectly shaped angel cookies, “My dog will be beautiful no matter what.” 

“He’ll also be eaten by a sleep-deprived Freshman.” 

Chenle flicks flour onto Mark’s face. That unleashes a flat out war. 

The edges of their second batch burn because they forget about them, they have to stay up later cleaning flour off the floor and countertops and Chenle gets flour in his nose, mouth and all over his shirt—but it doesn’t matter because Mark looks adorable when he’s shaking flour out of his hair like a puppy and Chenle is okay with cleaning as long as he can spend more time with him. 

He’s giggling and wiping flour off his cheeks when Mark leans in and whispers, “You missed a spot.”

His hand finds Chenle’s cheek, brushing away stray bits of flour with his thumb. Mark freezes, hands cupping Chenle’s face and big brown eyes widening, and Chenle thinks he might kiss him. He holds his breath and waits for it. But Mark blinks, once, twice, seemingly breaking himself out of his stupor. And he pulls away. 

“We should get back to cleaning.” 

“Yeah,” Chenle agrees, breathless for no reason. 

He spends the rest of the night wondering how he let his crush on Mark Lee get this out of control. 

5

This time, Chenle goes looking for Mark. 

It had been six and a half hours since Mark texted Chenle that he was going to the library to study for his last midterm, Chenle sent him off with a GIF of two cats kissing for luck and Mark hasn’t resurfaced since. He packs his tote bag with gummy bears and a water bottle before making his way to the Engineering building, where he’ll know he’ll find Mark at his favourite study spot––third floor, by the window with the best view of the buildings. At this time of night, all you could see were the city lights, twinkling like stars for the handful of students who remained in the building.

Chenle spots Mark immediately, hunched over his laptop with god-awful posture and drowning in a hoodie twice his size. He knows the semester is taking a hard toll on Mark, he just wishes he didn’t overwork himself and actually got some sleep once in a while. He marches over to Mark’s table and plops himself down in the seat next to him. When Mark doesn’t notice his arrival, Chenle clears his throat. 

That doesn’t get his attention either. 

“Why are you still here?” Chenle demands. 

Mark jumps in his seat, whirling on Chenle with a hand over his chest. “Jesus fucking—how long have you been sitting there?”

Chenle raises an eyebrow, “I should be asking you that.” 

Mark’s eyes are bloodshot, bags hanging off them as he musters up a tired smile. His skin is thin and almost colourless, he looks like a corpse. A hot corpse, nonetheless, but it’s still concerning. Chenle sighs and pushes the water bottle into Mark’s hands. 

“Drink, you look dehydrated.” 

“You always say the sweetest things,” Mark coos, unscrewing the water bottle and taking big gulps. Chenle watches him carefully. 

“How’s the paper going?” 

“Terribly,” Mark says, “My progress is slow and I’m going to flunk out of school and die.” 

Chenle rolls his eyes, so dramatic. “Take a break.” 

“Can’t.” 

“Mark.” 

“Chenle.” 

“You look like you can’t even see straight,” Chenle says, “How are you going to write a paper in this state?” 

“Easily,” Mark says stubbornly, turning back to his screen. He blinks blearily at it. “Goddammit,” he mutters to himself, “My head is starting to hurt and I can’t tell if it’s from lack of sleep or dehydration.” 

“It’s probably both, you idiot.” Chenle says. He snatches the laptop away from Mark, ignoring his yelp in protest as he saves his work before shutting it closed. 

“Get up,” Chenle says, circling his fingers around Mark’s wrist. He ignores the way his pulse jumps at the contact. “You need to go to bed.” 

Mark leans forward until his head is pressed against Chenle’s chest. Closing his eyes as Chenle’s hands find his hair, running his fingers through the rough locks and scratching his scalp. Mark’s hair is greasy and most likely unwashed, but Chenle doesn’t mind, especially when he lets out a content hum. 

“You’re so bossy sometimes,” Mark mumbles, half-delirious, “It’s hot.” 

Chenle goes completely still. Mark doesn’t seem to notice, either he didn’t register that he spoke aloud or he’s too tired to care. This is fine. Chenle is good at ignoring things, he can ignore this too. 

“Don’t fall asleep here,” he says softly, “Let’s go back to the dorm.” 

Mark lets out a petulant whine but lets Chenle drag him up. They manage to make their way back to the dorms in one piece. Unlike drunk Mark, sleepy Mark is much more willing to use his feet. When they reach the door, Mark curls his fingers into Chenle’s sleeve and asks,

“Do you want to come in?”

He poses the question so innocently, tired eyes widening with hope like he didn’t just increase Chenle’s heart rate to a concerning amount. 

“You’re supposed to get some sleep,” Chenle says, surprised he can get the words out with how dry his mouth is. 

“I will” and there’s that Mark Lee pout again, “I promise, it’s just hard for me to fall asleep alone.”

“Okay,” Chenle concedes, “I’ll stay just for a little bit.”

Mark’s dorm is exactly what Chenle pictured. Clothes strewn across the floor and a cluttered desk, posters artfully tacked onto the walls and the busiest wall planner Chenle has ever seen in his entire life. He watches as Mark shifts a pile of clothes from his bed to the desk chair to make space.  His hand curls back around Chenle’s wrist as he pulls him down to sit on the bed. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he says, pulling the blankets back to lay under them. Chenle stays sitting up, leaning back against the headboard as Mark makes himself comfortable. 

“You’re fine, my dorm is worse,” Chenle says, eyes landing on the messy bedside table. It’s covered in stray papers with Mark’s messy handwriting scrawled across. “Do you take your notes to bed? Mark, you know that’s unhealthy.” 

Mark makes a confused noise, lifting his head to follow Chenle’s gaze. 

“Oh, those aren’t notes,” he says, laying back down. His hair is a mess of fluffy curls, Chenle reaches over to run his hands through them. He thinks Mark is going to pull away, but he only leans into Chenle’s touch with a sleepy hum. “It’s just—writing.” 

“Writing?” 

“Yeah, like poetry or random bouts of prose, I keep it near my bed because I always get inspired at night. It’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Chenle says, scratching Mark’s scalp, “It’s cute, you have hobbies. You should let me read them one day.” 

Mark hums, eyes slipping shut as he turns and cuddles into Chenle’s side. “One day. Goodnight, Chenle.” 

“Goodnight, Mark.” 

As promised, he stays until Mark falls asleep. 

+1

In hindsight, Chenle shouldn’t have let Taehyun drag them to a party two buses away from campus. Taehyun had been raving about going to this party for weeks as a post-exam celebration. His friend from high school is hosting—Yeonjun Choi—who Taehyun has also been raving about. 

“He’s a dancer!” Taehyun is saying as they make their way to Yeonjun’s flat, “He posts covers on Tiktok, remind me to show you them later.” 

“I’m a dancer too,” Jisung grumbles miserably. 

Jisung’s sour mood is hard to miss, it’s so blatant that Chenle wonders if Taehyun is ignoring it or too caught up in his own excitement of seeing his childhood friend that he doesn’t notice. 

There’s also the possibility that he’s trying to make Jisung jealous on purpose but—Chenle doesn’t want to go there. 

Really, in hindsight, he should’ve expected Jisung to get completely wasted after the first eyelash bat Taehyun sent Yeonjun’s way. 

Which brings them here: Jisung keeled over and throwing up into a flower bed in Yeonjun’s backyard. Chenle rubs his back through it, murmuring “there, there” and getting a sense of deja vu. He wonders when he became the responsible friend. All he wanted to do was celebrate ending exams by getting wasted and now he’s sitting in the grass, getting his sweats muddy while he’s consoling a drunk and miserable Jisung. He doesn’t even know where Taehyun disappeared off to, he hopes to God he’s sober enough to help drag Jisung to the bus stop. 

Jisung emerges from the bushes, eyes blown wide and furious, there’s a flower petal in his hair.

“I’m glad I ruined that fucker’s flowers.”

Chenle grimaces. Yeonjun actually seems really nice. He greeted Jisung and Chenle like they were old friends—blissfully oblivious to the dark cloud following Jisung’s head—and said he had been excited to meet the guys Taehyun never shuts up about. Chenle doesn’t think Jisung has any reason to be jealous—considering Yeonjun had given Jisung a significant onceover and mouthed, ‘I approve!’ to a blushing Taehyun—but he was too busy seeing red to listen to reason. 

Chenle does feel guilty about Yeonjun’s flowers, though, but there was a line for the bathroom and he had to pull Jisung outside before he threw up into an expensive vase. 

Jisung slumps onto Chenle’s lap with a pained groan. Okay, now Chenle is starting to panic. 

“Jisung,” he says, poking his best friend’s cheek. His face is squished up against Chenle’s thigh, eyes closed and showing zero signs of life. Oh no. Chenle’s heartbeat escalates. 

“Jisung,” he tries desperately, “Please don’t die on me.” Poke. “Hey.” Poke. “Bighead.” Poke. “Wake up.” 

Jisung gives another loud groan, and weakly swats Chenle away. 

“Jisung, please get up. I can’t carry you home.”

Chenle is seconds away from a breakdown. He wonders if it’s bad etiquette to curl up and die on a stranger’s lawn. 

“Woah,” a voice says, “Is he okay?” 

Chenle looks up to find Mark standing at the doorway, the porch light shining on him like a halo. 

He blinks to make sure that Mark is really there and not a cruel hallucination produced by his tipsy-muddled brain. Mark’s eyebrows pull together in concern as he walks down the porch steps. Yep, that’s really him, looking stupidly gorgeous in a pair of tight fitting white jeans. Meanwhile, Chenle is in his rattiest sweats, covered in dirt and sweat and—oh—he’s pretty sure Jisung’s vomit is drying on the hem of his hoodie. So that’s nice. Splendid, even.

He’s never looked worse and Jisung’s never been this drunk before and Mark is coming closer, so all he can do is pathetically blurt: “Please help me.”

Mark seems to kick into RA Mode at the sight of Chenle’s panic. Understanding melting over his expression as he crouches down next to them, a water bottle already in his hands. 

“Hey, Jisung, right?” Mark coaxes gently, shaking Jisung’s shoulders lightly. He cracks his eyes open, looking between Mark and Chenle with a spaced-out expression. “I’m going to help you sit up, okay?” 

Jisung lets out a string of incoherent speech, but lets Mark pull him up. 

“Can you drink some water for me?” Mark asks, “You’ll feel a lot better.” 

“I don’t want water,” Jisung whines, eyes filling with tears. “I want Taehyun.”

Mark exchanges a look with Chenle, who shrugs apologetically. “Taehyun is on his way here,” he says, like a liar, “But you have to drink some water first.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen, “Really?” 

“Yes. Do you really want him to see you in this state?” 

Jisung sniffs and shakes his head sadly. 

For someone who is terrible at taking care of himself, Mark is pretty good at taking care of others. Chenle watches the way Mark carefully tilts Jisung’s chin back, coaxing his mouth open to help him drink water, and falls a little bit in love. 

Once Mark is certain Jisung is okay, he turns to Chenle. 

“Are you okay?” 

Chenle blinks. “ Me? I’m fine—I’m great. Perfect.” 

Mark gives him a bemused smile, “You sure? You seemed really stressed out.” 

“I just–” he looks at Jisung, who has his head buried in Mark’s shoulder, eyes open but scarily vacant. “He’s never been this wasted before and I couldn’t find Taehyun and I’ve also had a few drinks so I just—freaked out—” 

“Hey, hey,” Mark says gently, reaching over to squeeze Chenle’s shoulder, “Breathe,” Chenle takes a deep inhale, and exhales shakily. “You did an amazing job taking care of Jisung, okay? You’re okay now, you’re fine and you’re both safe. Here, have some water.” 

Even though Chenle is sober enough to hold the bottle himself, he lets Mark tilt his chin back and pour water into his open mouth. His hands are warm against Chenle’s flushed skin and water spills down his chin, but he doesn’t care. He feels better already. 

“I still have no idea how I’m going to get him home,” Chenle says, “No Uber is going to take him in this state and I can’t drag him through two buses.” 

“I can drive you guys home,” Mark says easily, “I’m not drinking tonight, I’m uh—trying to cut back.” 

Chenle lights up, “Really, Mark? You’re a lifesaver.” 

Mark’s cheeks pinken, “I owe you one, remember?”

“What are you doing here, anyway? Do you know Yeonjun?” 

“Kind of,” Mark says, scratching his head nervously, “He’s my ex, haha. But we’re on pretty good terms so he invited me over.” 

“Huh, small world.” Maybe Jisung has the right idea in hating Yeonjun, afterall. 

“How do you know Yeonjun?” Mark asks innocently. At the mention of his name, Jisung shoots up. 

“We don’t know him—we hate him. He sucks.” he slurs out, before slumping back against Mark. 

Mark frowns, defensive, “He’s a good dude.” 

“Ignore Jisung,” Chenle says, “He’s going through something.”

Thanks to Mark, it takes minimal effort to help Jisung to his feet. He leans heavily against Mark with either arm wrapped around their shoulders. They’re slowly making their way off the lawn when the front door opens and Taehyun stumbles out. 

“There you guys are!” his cheeks are flushed red and his hair is tousled, he’s visibly drunk and Chenle prays that he isn’t here to throw up too. He can only handle so much in one night. “I’ve been looking everywhere for — is Jisung okay?” 

“Um,” He exchanges a panicked look with Mark but Taehyun is already rushing over to them, taking Jisung’s half-conscious face in his hands. There’s no point in lying to Taehyun, he’ll see right through Chenle. “Jisung got jealous seeing you with Yeonjun and, well, he’s an aquarius who doesn’t know how to healthily process his feelings, so he got shitfaced.” 

“Oh, Jisung,” Taehyun says, softly, fondly, running his thumb across Jisung’s lip, “You’re so stupid.” 

Jisung wrinkles his nose and tries to bite Taehyun’s finger. “Your face is stupid.” 

“Good one,” Taehyun says dryly, “Let’s go home, yeah? We can talk tomorrow.” 

“Please do,” Chenle pleads, “For the sake of my sanity.” 

Taehyun cuts him a scathing look, it’s kind of impressive how quickly his heart eyes for Jisung turn into an annoyed glare at Chenle. 

Mark clears his throat, Taehyun looks at him like he’s just noticing he’s there. 

“I can drive you home too, Taehyun.” 

Taehyun looks from Mark to Chenle, lips curling into an evil smile. 

“You’re Mark, right? Chenle’s RA.” 

“One and only,” Mark replies cheerily. 

“Oh, it is so nice to finally meet you,” Taehyun gushes, “Chenle has told me so much about you, no seriously, once he just went on and on for an hour about your cheekbones.” 

Chenle flushes bright red. He aims a kick at Taehyun but he ducks out of the way just in time, letting out a manic giggle. He’s going to kill his best friend one of these days. 

“Thanks for driving us home,” Chenle whispers, as Mark parks in front of Jisung and Taehyun’s dorm building. “You’re much nicer than these two deserve.” 

He nods towards the backseat, where Taehyun and Jisung have fallen asleep on each other. Taehyun has his head tucked into Jisung’s neck, cuddling into him to the point where he’s almost disappearing into Jisung’s broad frame. Chenle took a million pictures to torture them with later. 

“It was the least I could do,” Mark says, turning slightly in his seat to face Chenle, “You’ve come to my rescue countless times before.” 

“I’m still grateful,” Chenle insists, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there.” 

“Chenle,” Mark starts seriously, “If you’re ever stranded like that again, please call me. I’ll always come save you, okay? Even if I’m sleeping or busy, I’ll never get mad or feel burdened, I just need to know that you’re always safe. Do you promise to call me?” 

Chenle swallows thickly, Mark’s gaze is intense, a fierce flame igniting behind his brown eyes. 

“I promise,” Chenle whispers, reaching for Mark’s hand to lock their pinkies together. 

Mark’s smile is warm, comforting, it makes Chenle’s heart feel like melting chocolate. In the darkness of the car, with his best friends snoring in the backseat and Mark looking at him like that—Chenle has never felt safer. 

It’s special, he thinks, what he and Mark have. They take care of each other, they’re always there for each other. It’s the little gestures that keep them going, packing water bottles, making food, forcing each other to sleep when they need it. Chenle has never needed words to express himself, and it seems Mark is the same. 

Their relationship is built off actions. And in the short span of time he’s known Mark, he’s learned to read his actions, which is how he knows that Mark is going to kiss him.
Tentative hands reach for Chenle in the darkness, curling around his nape. Mark’s eyes drop to Chenle’s lips then lift to meet his eyes. Just as he opens his mouth to ask the question, Chenle interrupts: 

“Yes, you can kiss me.” 

Mark’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly, lips parting with split second surprise. It washes away as he leans in and kisses Chenle. 

Chenle is expecting it, but his breath still hitches when Mark’s soft lips meet his. Mark kisses him slowly, coaxing Chenle’s lips apart and sliding his tongue in. It’s sweet, gentle, perfect, but Chenle has been crushing on Mark for a while now and needs to feel more of him. His stomach pools with desperation, and it shows in the way he surges forward in his seat, tilting his head and kissing Mark with a little more force. Mark makes a surprised noise, but lets Chenle take the lead. 

He goes completely pliant under Chenle’s touch, letting his hands roam up Mark’s body. His brain goes foggy when Mark sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, with just enough pressure that it draws an embarrassing noise out of Chenle. Kissing Mark is so addictive, Chenle never wants to stop. The centre console digs into his ribs as he pushes closer and he internally curses it for existing, because otherwise he would’ve slid onto Mark’s lap. 

Mark pulls away first, and Chenle pathetically chases his lips. It should be embarrassing but Mark is only looking at him with pure endearment. He’s breathing heavily, running a thumb over Chenle’s swollen bottom lip with an expression of wonder. 

“I really like you, Chenle,” Mark says, voice raspy and low, “In case that wasn’t already obvious.”

“It wasn’t obvious until about five seconds ago,” Chenle says, “But I like you too.” 

Mark breaks into a beautiful grin, he looks so stupidly giddy. Chenle wants to kiss him again. Or squish his cheeks. He realises that he can do both now.

“Can I take you on a date?” he asks, “Tomorrow?” 

“I’d love that,” Chenle can’t remember if he’s busy tomorrow but it doesn’t matter. He’ll cancel all his plans. “I know a good dumpling place we could go to. The owner loves me, so I could get us free food.” 

Mark giggles, playfully knocking their noses together. 

“This is great, I’m happy for you guys, really,” says an unimpressed voice from the backseat, “But can we please go inside now?”

 Mark and Chenle jump apart, heads snapping in unison to the backseat where Taehyun is sitting there, wide awake and mildly disgusted. 

“I thought you were asleep,” Chenle accuses. 

“I was,” Taehyun says, crossing his arms, “Before I was rudely awakened by your disgusting kissing noises.” 

This time, Chenle doesn’t hold back, he lunges at Taehyun.