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Cotton candy pink and melted golden honey are what Mark’s dreams are made of.
It’s the kind of pink that almost resembles that of the cherry blossoms blooming in the spring and golden like the midsummer sun that shines after an afternoon rainshower. The combination of colors is soft and delicate—like a picture painted by a gentle hand, undeniably delightful and pleasing to the eyes, splattered on a boy who puts those descriptions to shame.
The slowly fading pink hair color suits Donghyuck perfectly, Mark takes note of this with devastating awe—smoothing all of his features and making him look like a good night’s dream, all cozy and warm like a blanket. It matches well with his skin color, soft pink and golden, like a pastel sunset.
Donghyuck is sweet dreams and sunny days all wrapped up in one.
Mark thinks no amount of metaphors from the poems he’s ever written about him, tucked and locked away from the rest of the world, the ones he will never ever share, will give any justice to the way he’s seeing Donghyuck through his eyes at this very moment.
And all of it makes Mark want to be just a boy.
Mark wants to be just a boy who is dumbstruck and helplessly smitten with this other boy with breathtaking pink hair and sunshine smiles and not as an idol on the verge of spilling secrets not meant to be told and pretending like he’s very much not romantically in love with his co-worker as dozens of cameras roll around them in a gorgeous house they are currently filming at.
Mark hopes all the lights around them won’t be able to catch the desire and want he knows is subtly reflecting on his face, for everyone’s sake.
Because right now, Mark wants to hold Donghyuck desperately.
Mark wants to take his comfort and warmth, wants to take up his space and breathe his air. He wants to trail his lips along the path of the dainty moles on Donghyuck’s face all the way to the side of his neck, where a band-aid is delicately placed to cover the purple bruise he just sucked on the soft skin there just mere hours ago, when they were stealing a few moments to themselves before the cameras stole both of them away—earning them a few disapproving looks from their stylists and managers.
Mark thinks it’s worth it. Donghyuck too. The soft kiss he left on the exact same spot on Mark’s neck before they went out of their van a clear proof of it, making the other members riding with them groan in protest from the blatant display of affection and Mark’s face burns in embarrassment—not that they really care.
It’s all hidden moments in front of cameras and secret rendezvous after schedules.
Mark knows no band-aid can hide away all the years of pining, longing, and yearning that they both went through and are still very much going through, with the line of work that they have.
Everyday is an excruciating struggle to keep his hands to himself and not blurt out he loves Donghyuck every two seconds.
Mark has so much of Donghyuck in his heart that he thinks it’s impossible for the cameras not to catch it.
Because they do, in fact.
Mark monitors their contents well enough to catch the moments where their editors cut certain parts out of the clips that involves him and Donghyuck—some of those he recognizes, like that time he was about to hug Donghyuck back and snuggle up to him or that time he was about to whisper sweet nothings to Donghyuck’s ear, something that the audio directors and audience would prefer not to hear.
How can they not see it?
How can they not see the look he gives Donghyuck whenever he does these things? These endearing things that never fails to make Mark feel cosmic flutters inside his belly, a gravitational madness of a butterfly garden of sorts.
How can they not see that when he tries to push Donghyuck along with his kisses and touches away on camera, it takes a lot of effort on his part? It takes great effort and restrain not to pull Donghyuck close to him, to kiss him dumb in front of the whole world, to tell everyone that there are pieces of Donghyuck in all of the songs he’s ever written. Because contrary to popular belief, Mark does not have a strong sense of self-control, not when it comes to Donghyuck.
“Are you okay? You have that look,” Johnny whispers to him, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Mark catches a whiff of soft pink hair before he looks at Johnny, frowning. “What look?”
Johnny pins him with his gaze.
“Like you’re in one of your Donghyuck fever dreams,” Johnny continues to whisper, stretching his long legs out of the couch he’s sitting on while they take a small break from filming. “The one where you look like you're dreaming but you’re doing it while awake. That.”
Johnny smirks at him. “You have it bad, man.”
Fever dream.
Mark’s slightly surprised by the observation, wondering what the people close to them sees when he gets like this. What Donghyuck sees. He can’t help but sigh, running his hands through his hair before he feels the spot next to him dip with the weight of being seated on.
“Hi,” Donghyuck softly greets him, hands automatically reaching out to fix the tangle of mess he unknowingly just created in his hair.
Mark immediately turns his whole attention to him, seeing Donghyuck’s face up close to his—pretty moles, prettier blush, and all that.
He feels Donghyuck’s hands softly massage his scalp, making him close his eyes and lean to the touch. They both hear the collective clearing of throats around them before they break free from each other. Mark feels his heart pounding loudly inside his chest.
“Hi, babe,” he manages to whisper in Donghyuck’s ear, lips lingering there for just a little while before the cameras start rolling once again.
Donghyuck shoots him a shy smile, the one that gently stops his heart for a moment.
“Fever dream,” Johnny mouths across from him, teasing. Mark just shakes his head, putting on a neutral face as a dozen of tiny red lights blink in recording.
He looks at Donghyuck who does the same, face automatically switching into that of playful mischief. Always the professional.
Mark fights with himself to stop the fond look from forming.
•
Mark loves knowing that Donghyuck is always going to be a part of his days.
Thankfully, they both are lucky enough to be in the same groups, sharing the same schedules and living just a floor away from one another, not that it matters, but still. Because at the end of every tiring day of working schedules, Donghyuck will always be the arms that Mark will come home to—will always be the person who asks about his day, the one who listens as he talks about it, the one who he shares everything with.
And maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of these things while the cameras are on and they are in the middle of playing a game of Halli Galli, but they’re inside a beautiful house and his beautiful boy is sitting right next to him and he couldn’t help but think of the home he left when he was still a kid only to find one in the arms of a boy made of dreams and practice room memories.
Is there no waking up from this?
Donghyuck is just right there, sitting next to him, his hands so close to Mark’s as he enthusiastically discusses with Taeil, Johnny, and Jaehyun about who’s going grocery shopping.
Mark really wants to hold his hand.
“I’ll go,” Johnny declares. “I want to go,” Donghyuck says too, almost at the same time.
Donghyuck briefly looks at him, he does too, a silent message passing between them, before they both shift their gaze.
In the end, Mark ends up going too.
The nearest mart is only a five-minute drive away, not enough time for him to spend with Donghyuck but he’ll take what he can have.
For once, the cameras are turned off.
Johnny takes pity on him and sits at the front, next to their manager who’s taking the wheel.
Mark wastes no time being all over Donghyuck in the backseat, hugging him so tight and whispering how much he misses him.
Donghyuck adorably giggles. “Stooooop, we have company,” he whines, making their manager and Johnny laugh.
“You guys are embarrassing even if you have company, have some decorum,” Johnny snorts.
“Hey, let them be,” their manager lightheartedly tolerates Mark who’s now feeling himself blushing so hard once again.
He groans his embarrassment from where he was hiding in the warm skin of Donghyuck’s neck just below that little band-aid—tempted to leave another bruise next to it.
“I just want to hold your hand, babe,” Mark breathes, inhaling Donghyuck’s warm chocolate scent as he feels the other gently patting his hair.
But words are all he could give as the car stops and Mark unwillingly pulls himself away from Donghyuck’s embrace to start fixing himself for the cameras once again.
“Later,” Donghyuck whispers like a promise.
Apparently, Johnny hears it.
“Okay, how about this,” Johnny says, twisting his body to look at them from the passenger seat. “Once we’re inside, let’s play a game of rock-paper-scissors and the two losers will hold hands while shopping as a punishment.” Although they all know that in his and Donghyuck’s case, it wouldn’t be. Not at all.
“Let’s play in twos. For the first round it will be me against Mark. I’ll play scissors, Mark you play with paper. And then I’ll win. For the second round, you both will play against each other. Mark, you play with rock and Donghyuck, you’re paper. Donghyuck wins. In the last round, Donghyuck will play against me. I’ll go with scissors. Donghyuck goes with paper. That way I’ll be the overall winner and you’ll both be losers so you could hold hands all you want, you heathens.”
Mark hears their manager laughing at them, praising Johnny for thinking of such a thing.
“I’ll buy you those shoes you’ve been eyeing,” Mark says to Johnny before giving a kiss to Donghyuck’s forehead as they prepare to go.
Johnny laughs. “Remember to at least act like you hate it. Don’t look too happy holding each other’s hands.”
Donghyuck laughs, his cheeks tinted a pretty shade of rosy pink. He’s embarrassed, Mark observes. He is, too, what with the lengths they have to go through just to hold hands.
Like the professional idols that they are—with years and years of training in managing facial expressions and putting on faces for show, they went on with Johnny’s plan smoothly. Mark makes sure to properly whine about having to hold Donghyuck’s hand and Donghyuck pouting in return.
God, Mark can’t wait to hold him.
With each of them holding a camera on their hands, Mark pauses the recording on his once they get to the snack aisle, empty except for them. He looks at their manager who’s behind a camera of his own, filming them a few meters away and at Johnny who’s clearly forcing himself to mind his own business.
“Babe,” he gently calls out to Donghyuck who’s looking at the selection of sweet snacks to buy for Taeyong.
Mark’s aware one of the three cameras that are still recording will no doubt catch it and he does feel bad for whoever the editor assigned for this may be but their relationship isn’t really a secret to the company either.
“What?” Donghyuck replies absentmindedly, still deeply engrossed in choosing between honey butter chips or honey cookies.
“Your hand,” he shyly whispers, feeling his cheeks heat up as he offers his hand forward, palm up, waiting for Donghyuck to take it.
Donghyuck stills, standing straighter as he looks back and forth between Mark, his camera, Johnny, and their manager. He’s blushing again—this time a much deeper shade of pink, almost like it’s red, creeping from his cheeks down to his neck and to the tip of his ears.
Mark is still holding his hand out as he watches Donghyuck cough fakely to cover the smile on his lips as well as his embarrassment. Mark finds him so endearing.
“Ooh, you wanna hold my hand soooo bad,” he teases Mark, like he’s not embarrassed himself, face looking so red now he’s starting to resemble an apple.
Johnny’s the one who points it out. “Hyuck, your face is so red.”
Mark laughs, feeling his own cheeks heating up badly as Donghyuck finally fits his hand to his, holding him tight.
He feels satisfaction all the way to his toes.
Shyness clearly radiating from him, Donghyuck is looking away, embarrassed by all of it. Mark can’t help but smile as he looks at him happily, extremely relieved that he finally gets to hold his hand. He squeezes Donghyuck’s hand who squeezes back in return.
Mark swings their joined hands as they walk to grab the stuff Donghyuck is softly mumbling underneath his breath—eggs, milk, toothpaste—still dumbly smiling all happy with Donghyuck’s hand in one hand and the grocery basket on the other, his camera having long been surrendered to their manager who’s working hard to film them. Johnny is just playing along with it, although Mark can see the small smiles he shoots at them whenever he looks at their joined hands.
Mark never stopped holding Donghyuck’s hand except to carry the grocery bags for him.
He holds it once again on the ride back.
•
Mark loves late nights, the ones not really spent on recording studios or practice rooms, although he loves those too.
Late nights like this though, is one of his favorites. Unarguably. The ones where the cameras are packed away for the night, giving them time to spend all to themselves.
Mark, though, spends a few extra—bribing Jungwoo with a promise of treating him to good food for the effort of switching rooms until they greet the cameras good morning once again.
Slowly opening the door to the dimly lit room, his footsteps are carefully light as he approaches the bundled up figure on the bed. Sensing his presence, Donghyuck moves to make space, opening his blanket up for Mark to also wrap himself into.
Mark’s arm immediately snakes its way around Donghyuck’s waist, pulling him closer to him—both of them lying side by side and facing each other. Finally.
Donghyuck giggles. “Hi.”
Tenderly, almost featherlight, his lips land on Donghyuck's forehead whose arm begins to wrap itself around Mark’s waist too. “I miss you.”
Smiling, Mark places another kiss there before moving down his nose to give it one.
“I,” a kiss on Donghyuck’s right cheek.
“Love,” on his left, too.
“You,” soft plump lips meet his as he finally exhales the breath he’s been holding all day long.
Donghyuck hums, drunk with Mark’s kisses. “I love you too.”
It’s so late at night, the moonlight peaking through the window serving as the only light, Mark knows they should rest and sleep for the long day ahead of them tomorrow.
Instead, Mark spends it by kissing Donghyuck, wanting to drown himself in the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he lets out those soft little gasps that makes Mark’s blood boil with want.
And so he does.
Mark kisses Donghyuck slowly, gently coaxing his mouth to open up to him, tenderly tracing its contours with his lips, delicately swallowing up all the sounds he makes as his hand runs through his hair. The slower he kisses him, the faster his heart beats in his chest.
He places his palm on Donghyuck’s own, feeling the equally strong pounding there too.
“Are you real?” Mark asks him in wonder.
Almost immediately, he feels Donghyuck’s warm palm land softly on his cheek, lifting his face up. What greets him is a sea of stars reflecting on the other’s eyes.
“I’m real, Mark,” Donghyuck shakily exhales before kissing him tenderly.
Mark kisses him back, tasting sweet happiness on his lips before gently turning him around, spooning him from behind.
They’re both looking out at the window now, to the moon that seems so far away. Mark holds Donghyuck like how the night holds the moon, warm and tight.
Hands still tightly wrapped around Donghyuck’s waist, Mark lets his fingers explore the soft skin under his shirt. Donghyuck sighs in satisfaction as Mark begins gently rubbing his stomach.
Donghyuck’s skin is warm, like the feeling you get after taking a sip of hot chocolate, the one you always crave for during rainy nights. It’s smooth, like the clear blue sky you crave for after countless storm clouds. Mark craves to touch him in every way that he can, in every part that he can reach.
Kneading his skin and drawing small circles on his abdomen, he feels it rise and fall with every precious breath that Donghyuck takes. Tenderly swiping a finger above Donghyuck’s navel, he slowly traces it down just up to the band of the shorts he’s wearing.
Mark feels Donghyuck shudder in return.
Hiding inside this cozy blanket and sharing Donghyuck’s body heat with his, Mark wishes he gets to meet Donghyuck in his dreams too.
Mark thinks he can continue enduring the long hours and days of makeup chairs and studios and cameras flashing and yearning and longing as long as he gets to have and to hold Donghyuck when the night comes.
“Goodnight for today, love.”
Donghyuck places his hand atop his, tightly intertwining their fingers and Mark hopes even in his dreams, he’s still holding it.
“Goodnight.”
And Mark knows he’ll fall asleep deeply with Donghyuck in his arms, his bare legs over his, hands holding on tight, chest rising and falling in sync like they’re one and the same entity.
Mark hopes that when he wakes up, Donghyuck will still be there—that he didn’t just dreamt him up, that he doesn’t have to think he’s dreaming to know that he’s real. Although Mark’s dreams of Donghyuck don't end with him waking up.
Awake or not, Mark’s favorite dream will always be Donghyuck.
And maybe it really is a fever dream.
Mark does feel like he’s in a haze.
Being in love with Donghyuck is a dream and Mark feels lucid enough to keep on dreaming.