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“I will never be able to understand how you two happened,” Yangyang says, and Donghyuck chuckles on the back of his hand, looking at him like what he’s saying is out-of-this-world crazy.
“Please,” Renjun speaks, rolling his eyes, holding back a laughter “they were fucking meant to be or something.” he grabs another fry from Donghyuck’s plate, and gets another nasty look, but regardless he munches it down and continues talking, “I promise you, we all saw it coming, you’re like the first person ever to say that kinda thing to any of these two.”
And it’s true, but Donghyuck feels a strong pang in his chest — a mix between reassurance and embarrassment.
“Well, I dunno, never saw you as a couple” Yangyang scoffs, taking a sip from his full-of-carbs Sprite, and still swallowing down the last bite of his enormous burger. “Just as, like, really affectionate best friends,” he says it like a question, and Renjun doesn’t hold his laughs anymore, letting out a snort while Donghyuck shakes his head no.
“It’s surprising how dumb you are sometimes, Yangs,” Renjun says, now stealing one of Yanyang’s fries.
“Cut him some slack, Jun.” Donghyuck says, even if he thought what Yangyang is saying is crazy too, because “After all, it is true that we are pretty private about our stuff, and Yang came like in the middle of the whole thing”
“It was still fucking predictable,” Renjun says it like he himself is outrageously offended by a statement that wasn’t even about him. Donghyuck wants to laugh at him, but he also thinks is very sweet and cute of Renjun “like, all the pinning and the stupid fights and don’t make me mention that one fucking night you came back to the dorms crying 'cause you thought he didn’t love you or miss you, like, you both were so obviously in love, Hyuck”
Donghyuck holds eye contact with Renjun, who has his eyes wide open, trying to explain to Donghyuck a story Donghyuck himself lived — it’s funny and endearing at the same time.
“Wait, how the fuck did you end up together, again?” Both Renjun and Donghyuck turn their heads to look at Yangyang, seated across from them under the bright artificial light of the 24-hours McDonald’s.
“Well”
If Donghyuck was to tell the story in the right way, with no stutter and weird pauses and time skips and words he forgets to give meaning to when they pass through his teeth stupidly fast, he would have to say it all started when they met.
Mark and Donghyuck have been best friends since the first time they saw each other — even if they didn’t want it, their minds were always full of the other’s name. Even if Mark couldn’t really understand Donghyuck’s humor, he knew in the back of his mind he will end up being one of his closest friends; even if Donghyuck told himself he only liked the way Mark got annoyed by his jokes, he knew deeply that he’ll end up enjoying Mark’s company a lot, even if it’s silent and sad.
They met a couple of days after Donghyuck entered the company, Mark still not that good with Korean, and Donghyuck still not that good at filtering his thoughts before they came out of his mouth.
They greeted each other and Donghyuck remembers making a joke that Mark didn’t catch; they met when disaster was about to begin, when singing and dance lessons were the only things they had to do —not that it was easy, but at least the part where they had to always be happy and pretend didn’t come yet—.
Back then, Donghyuck was all big smiles and bright aura, all cocky and tanned, all jokes and innocence; Mark was all- Mark a little bit of nothing, kind of lost and small and not-that-interesting. They met when their names were still hidden from the public, still something they kept for themselves, when days didn’t become night in the blink of an eye and the swing of a dance step.
They met when they were just kids .
Kids. Children . So young that they were only dreaming of crowds screaming relentlessly their names and heavy breathing after dancing so hard that their limbs would get numb and their lungs would feel about to combust.
In the beginning, they fought no-end.
They quickly find out that growing up becomes a hassle when you have to do it in-between sleepless nights and lonely afternoons, people convincing you that everything’s a competition, fellow trainees you don’t remember the names of, or that you saw once and liked and got told next week they got eliminated of the program. In the midst of it, both of them find themselves tired and annoyed and on the verge of crying five days out of seven.
Hours stretching out or going by too fast, never at its normal pace. They would see their classmates and find out their lives are way too different, and then go back to the too much and the too little of starting to live a life of endless days.
They had to take out the frustration of having to wake up too early and work too hard somehow — Donghyuck joked around and laughed instead of crying because it was way easier, and Mark quietly took everything that came his way. Until Donghyuck joked around him too much, and he started to bite back.
At some point, though, in-between long nights and days that went flying by, debuts near, almost at the reach of their hands, the fights stopped. Maybe because they had to, because now cameras were pointing at them, and they learned early-on that when the red dot is flashing, feelings have to be tucked-in.
But also, maybe because they realized it wasn’t worth it, to fight the feelings away, to call each other names to hide the fact that they were just lonely, and wanted someone to look at them long enough it felt right.
So the fights stopped, and they, slowly but surely, became a must in each other’s life. A laugh in the dark to release all the tension of working on the new comeback, a movie late at night to forget about the fight the older members just had, a squeeze on the hand to show they were there if the other needed it, a smile in the quietness of the nights they fell in love again and again.
They shared so many things, moments, songs — they forgot how to stop sharing at one point; and it wasn’t just the two of them, it was like that with most of the others too —but Mark knew , and Donghyuck knew too, they just did—.
And so, slowly but surely, they fell in love.
They fell in love like they weren’t supposed to, like they were told not to by so many managers and business people that worked in their company. They fell in love like they were still those kids annoying each other in the halls of what they were obligated to call home, they fell in love youthfully and without looking back. They fell .
Sometimes not in-love, just fell. Hardly and having nothing to hold on to. Just Mark and Donghyuck, falling like there was no tomorrow, no responsibilities. Falling, crashing into the floor of Donghyuck's bedroom, and letting their pieces be scattered everywhere.
Thing is, Donghyuck likes messy and raw and he mumbles and spits random words when he tells stories, so if it really was up to him, he’ll tell you the story in the wrong way; just like this:
Donghyuck thinks it all starts, maybe, that one afternoon when they sit on the dirtied and cold floor, heads full of an after-practice-haze, one beside the other, silent in the middle of all the noise from the song still playing, like there was nothing to say even though the two of them were aching to scream.
Limbs soft even if they were still sweating even a little bit, they had been rehearsing for hours by then, doing and recording and fixing mistakes and redoing the same dance routine. There’s a bittersweet feeling in the air, sort of making it heavier, because BOOM is still blasting from one of the big speakers on the corner of the practice room, Renjun’s voice resonating in the halls and the mirrors and their ears.
There’s something about Mark having texted Donghyuck the night before, while Donghyuck was still gaming, blues and reds reflecting on his face, Mark’s ‘practice room tomorrow?’ sounding like a promise more than just an ask for help. Something about Mark coming back to where Donghyuck thought he would never find him anymore.
Something about the way Mark looks at Donghyuck through the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, breathless and pink-cheeked.
Donghyuck smiles at him and hopes Mark catches the ‘I love you’ hidden in his tilt of head and half-lidded eyes.
He does. Mark turns his head to him, no mirror reflecting tired bodies, but them staring at each other.
“I love you, Hyuck,” he says, still too out of air for it to be heard correctly over the music, but Donghyuck hears it anyway and his smile gets bigger.
“I know, Hyung”
He doesn’t need to say it back, he figures out that afternoon, because Mark gets it regardless.
And maybe Donghyuck felt like crying all day because seeing Mark learn the whole choreography got the worst of him, all the ugly feelings stacked up on his throat in a way that hurt and bothered, but looking at Mark’s eyes, he feels safe. He figures he’s always been a little bit in love with the way it feels to have Mark around him — not close enough for his skin to burn, but always there, in one corner or the other, ready to catch him if he ever falls.
“Just wanted to remind you”
BOOM starts again, Donghyuck falls forward to lay his head on Mark’s lap. Mark catches him.
Though maybe it all begins that autumn night when Mark knocks on his door, guitar in hand and bold-black glasses almost falling from where they hang on his nose. He’s wearing that stupid Vancouver shirt Donghyuck wants him to take off every single time he has it on, and when he speaks, his voice sounds rough and wasted, like every time they record.
“Can I come in?”
Donghyuck’s whole body burns, then, because he knows Mark asks just to make sure, just for Donghyuck to confirm he’s okay, even if Mark doesn't need to. Donghyuck would let Mark in even on days when everything hurts in all the places his body never got used to, like the back of his neck and his lower back, and his right ankle.
Donghyuck would let Mark in even when all the things he had accumulated and kept under the rug came out to haunt him, leaving him speechless and too tired, even on nights when he missed the comfort of his mom’s food and the hugs his siblings used to give him after to many months of not seeing each other’s faces.
Hell, Donghyuck would let Mark in even when anger sat on his throat permanently, him not being able to swallow it, ready to spit it, though. Ready to shout and hurt and ache, not wanting people to be on the receiving end only because he knows he’ll regret it — just like he did every rehearsal when he stopped the music to argue with Doyoung, or every dinner he ruined by fighting Jeno.
Mark asks just for the hell of it, and Donghyuck nods and moves aside to let him in like every single time.
Then Mark makes a bee-line to Donghyuck’s messy bed, sitting somewhere not filled with used shirts and dirty pants, just to grab his guitar with both hands, placing it right under his fingertips.
“You okay?” he asks without looking at him, instead looking for the right chord to start.
“What’d you mean?” Donghyuck says, even if he knows what Mark is trying to say, because he’s not dumb — he saw Mark’s face every time his eyelids got too heavy and his head pounded for too long so he had to massage it.
“Hyuck” Mark looks at him now, saying the nickname like a threat, and Donghyuck wants to strip Mark out of that stupid shirt so badly. Feel the warmth of his naked torso, lay on it, listen to his heartbeat. Make sure Mark’s with him, that he won’t go.
“‘M okay, just tired, Mel” he whispers and goes to sit beside Mark, on top of all his dirty clothes.
Mark sighs and starts playing that one Bruno Major song, looking up at Donghyuck like an invitation.
And Donghyuck sings like the song doesn’t hold the world in its lines, like singing that one sentence isn’t a revolution — ’there’s nothing like doing nothing, with you’ .
Or perhaps it was the night the both of them locked eyes, that random night, a whatever kind-of-night. Those nights that you forget about, that you stop recalling a couple of nights later. A night not special at all, stars covered by the dust in the city, and the moon not even full; cold piercing and making everything a little bit less comforting, their limbs still aching from long hours of rehearsals and their throats dried up.
Mark’s eyes looked sickeningly bright and shiny, and he held a light smile on his lips, one that could only mean exhaustion got the best of him and now everything’s numbed out. The city lights and the buildings surrounding them only as a background, them the protagonists of a cheesy romantic movie, like fucking Titanic or some shit like that.
They were just breathing closely, just being there and feeling the other’s presence filling in all the holes that tiredness was making on their bodies mercilessly. They just needed an escape from a life that consisted of short breaths and rushed beating hearts.
At some point, Mark leans closer, though. Closer enough that Donghyuck sees the pink tint on his cheeks.
“I need you to promise me something, love” Mark says, and Donghyuck thinks his bright eyes may be just teary, so he nods and tilts his head in a way that asks for Mark to continue. “Need you to promise me that whatever happens, you won’t leave me”
And it’s so funny to Donghyuck, he can’t help but to laugh, because the last thing Donghyuck would think of doing is leaving Mark behind. Not after all these days, and quite honestly, no even when they were only kids trying to find their way home or a stage or anything that felt good enough.
“Promise me, Haech” he insists, and Donghyuck does.
He leans in further and, without warning at all, kisses Mark like he’s been wanting to all his damn life.
He presses his whole body to Mark’s, hands on his chest, eyes closed. Mark’s hands fall on his cheeks, and they’re too cold to be comfortable, but Donghyuck never cared about it before, so why would he now?
Truth be told, they made so many mistakes, Donghyuck couldn’t believe that they —idols who were taught how to act in the different situations that could happen in their so public lives, artists that weren’t supposed to make mistakes because they never knew who can be watching— fell onto so many holes along the way.
But, after all, the biggest mistake will always be that kiss. Not only because it set fire the whole town, but also because it made a little spark be born inside their chests — ready to burn them down, ready to crush their lungs and make their smiles shine on the darkness of the whatever-nights to come, ready to sink them low — oh-so-low — and push them fucking high.
Donghyuck would keep messing up his entire life if it meant having Mark pressed against him in the cold of night, he figures.
Though Donghyuck might end up telling you it was a mix of every single day they spent together, like there wasn’t a single instance wherein Donghyuck realized he was in love with Mark a hundred percent — he knew it always, it rested in the back of his mind, and every day Mark would flash a smile at him, or touch his knee as a way to ask how is he feeling, or laughed too loud at his jokes in the middle of the night, were a reminder.
Universe’s way to let him know that they were meant to be no matter how ugly things got, or how hard the hit was.
Donghyuck knew he was in love with Mark the moment they locked eyes for the first time, and he has a slight suspicion that so does Mark.
So he cannot tell you the story with an organized timeline and pretty structured sentences, because that’s not how it happened — what happened was, they met, they were forced to be together, and then the days started to mix and morph and you never knew if it was night or day and in the midst, they found themselves, together too. A mess of ‘I love you’s whispered on backstages and ‘I fucking hate you’s in the middle of giggles, too many things happening all at once — Mark’s hand on his thigh, the scream of thousands of people, a ‘This is all for you’ spoken on his ear, like a secret, like Mark wanted him and only him to know this.
A mess of nicknames, all synonyms, all meaning the same thing — baby, Hyuck, sunshine, soulmate, love, idiot, Mel, darling, cutie, asshole, Haech, babe, beautiful, Hyung —: I couldn’t be here without you, please stay. Please love me right.
Days intertwined with nights and afternoons and dates and sleepovers, and Donghyuck wouldn’t be able to pinpoint an exact moment where it all started because having been with Mark so many years, he thinks maybe they were just born to be each other’s so the story would be too long, and Yangyang has a short attention span.
He settles for,
“He asked me to be his boyfriend the night before my first concert with 127, after my injury and whatnot”
Yangyang makes an affirmative noise, mouth still full of food. He finds it a good enough answer, so Donghyuck doesn’t continue.
Renjun looks at him though, with fond eyes and relaxed features, like he knows their story just as detailed as Donghyuck and finds it endearing that Donghyuck finds it difficult to explain everything. Renjun looks at him like he understands, and Donghyuck thanks the universe for also giving him a best friend like him.
If you were to ask Mark about it, he would have a different answer, and it would’ve been this:
They began to happen on April 29th. Mark is laying on his bed, watching the sunset, sun hiding and making the whole sky a pretty orange-pink-purple he could stare at for days.
He had only recently debuted with U, and tomorrow he had to do another variety show he’ll understand half the things they were doing, so he should be resting, but, right now, he can’t sleep. There’s too much fear and worry trapped inside his chest whenever he slightly takes his eyes away from the sun to look at Donghyuck’s empty bed, wondering why he has not come back yet, if his schedule ended hours ago.
Mark’s about to stand up to look for some manager or staff that could tell him where was Donghyuck, to answer the question that has been eating him alive since he came back to a quiet and empty dorm, no singing in the shower, not screaming at a computer, nothing — Donghyuck has always been a little bit quicker than him though, so before he can get out of his bed, the door opens hastily.
Enter a Donghyuck of red eyes and red nose and disheveled hair and heavy steps. It wasn’t the first time Donghyuck cried in front of him, or came back from the main company building with nothing but tears bubbling up his eyes, waiting for the comfort of a blanket to let them flow, but there’s something about Donghyuck sitting on his bed, not even acknowledging Mark’s presence, and making Mark face his back, that takes him by surprise.
Like he doesn’t want Mark to know.
Mark does get up, then, and goes straight to Donghyuck’s bed, softly letting himself fall onto his knees on Donghyuck’s pristine white comforter.
“Go away,” says Donghyuck when he feels Mark beside him, but Mark doesn’t move.
“What’s up, Hyuck?” he says instead, hears Donghyuck sniff and watches as his shoulders tense up. “C’mon, you can talk to me, dude” Mark places his hand on Donhyuck’s lower back.
“I said go away, leave me the fuck alone!” Donghyuck gets up, abruptly, and screams at Mark. Mark can see in his eyes that he doesn’t mean it, that he just wants to cry but doesn’t know how to right now.
So Mark waits there, silently, not moving, for Donghyuck to give in, to crawl back into his bed and cry away whatever happened to him. Donghyuck sniffs once more, still standing, and Mark sees his hands trembling when he attempts to brush away a single tear on his cheek.
The exact moment they begin is this one: Donghyuck gives in; he lays beside Mark on his bed, curled in on himself, and cries so much Mark almost dozes off — he doesn’t, though, he just pats Donghyuck’s head and hugs him tight enough that it starts to make his arms numb.
Then, Donghyuck says,
“Don’t abandon me, Mark Lee” and Mark gets it. Donghyuck is scared to his bones, afraid that Mark debuting with U means they won’t be debuting together, afraid that the other unit will keep Mark at a distance he won’t be able to bear.
“Wouldn’t even think of doing it” he answers, and he’s not lying, he hopes Donghyuck gets that.
He hopes Donghyuck knows that he’ll always be there, in one corner or the other, ready to catch him if he ever falls.