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mark is thirteen when he meets his doom.

mark is thirteen, and donghyuck is twelve. 

donghyuck lee has been in mark's church for all of five minutes when he starts to ruin mark's life. one of the deacons makes an announcement about sunday school, and donghyuck makes a face.

“ Jesus , aren’t we a bit old for that?”

“you can’t say that.” the words leave mark's mouth instinctively.

donghyuck rolls his eyes, nothing short of exasperated. “why?”

”what do you mean why?” mark hisses, quickly forgetting his patience, kindness, and gentleness. “because it’s in the commandments!”

“it’s still a dumb rule,” donghyuck states like a fact. even if it were a joke, the thought of saying that out loud makes mark feel a bit ill. 

“why would God care about that?”

mark is stunned into silence.

donghyuck is the closest mark has ever experienced to the devil.

he looks innocent, like a cherub from a painting in a fancy old chapel. until his lips pull into that wicked smile, eyes glinting as he curses under his breath. it’s quiet enough that mark is the only one to notice. he stares at mark as he does it, forcing mark to witness his sins.

sometimes mark can almost see horns on his head, a serpentine tail flicking behind him. 

donghyuck is kind of terrifying. sometimes mark feels like Ezekiel, frozen with fear over the holy terror in front of him. except that this angel doesn’t tell mark not to be afraid. 

he probably shouldn’t be comparing donghyuck to an angel. those aren’t proper thoughts. mark adds it to the list of things to apologize for that night.

maybe this is some sort of test, like Jesus in the desert. mark tries not to wonder what sort of temptation God would be testing him for.

mark has never met anyone like donghyuck. he’s not sure that’s a compliment.

mark doesn’t understand him, how he can just do things , and seemingly not feel badly about them. if anything, he looks happy to be disobeying rules, whether they were set by his parents, his teacher, or God Himself.

that was never a hard task until now.

he drives mark insane, but he stays glued to his side, never bothered by mark's irritation. if anything, mark's reactions only seem to encourage him. mark thinks he’ll lose his mind by the time the year is up, but he’s supposed to be gracious and welcoming to everyone in The Lord’s House.

donghyuck is the first person mark's ever met who’s clingy .

it’s small, like he doesn’t even think about it, somehow. but mark notices everything.

a tap on the shoulder, a tug on the ear, fingers brushing his forearm.

even these tiny things are enough to make mark shiver.

he tenses, but the touch is gone so quickly it doesn’t matter.

it could almost be an accident. mark doesn’t ask donghyuck. he’s not sure he wants to know.

donghyuck starts invading mark’s mind, even outside of church.

at first, he’s positive that the feeling in the pit of his stomach on saturday nights is dread.

every sunday starts to feel like the first day of school.

mark spends mondays with donghyuck stuck in his head, like a song he isn’t allowed to listen to. analyzing every glance, every word.

during advent, mark’s irritation starts to shift into something unfamiliar.

donghyuck’s eyes shine golden in the lights. the speck of glitter on his cheek is almost as distracting as his commentary.

“did you know christmas trees were stolen from pagans?” he whispers to mark, as he hangs an ornament unreasonably close to the one mark just hung.

he gets a disbelieving glance from mark.

“no way.”

“scout’s honour!” donghyuck insists. 

mark would shove him, if they weren’t both holding glass. instead, he narrows his eyes.

“you’re not even a scout.”

donghyuck shrugs, grabbing the ornament out of mark’s hand to hang it up himself.

“i have better things to do.”

“shit.”

mark has stopped flinching when donghyuck swears, but he still has to tell him off. one time he forgot, and he’d felt so sick with guilt that he prayed for forgiveness the second he got home. he’d tried not to think about the surprised smile donghyuck had given him.

“ stop , donghyuck, you can’t–”

donghyuck has a smile on his face, staring at mark like he can read his thoughts.

“you don’t tell, though. why?”

mark doesn’t know.

he doesn't want to cause trouble. he doesn’t want donghyuck to get in trouble.

or, he doesn’t think he should .

It’s just a word , the devil whispers in his ear. It's not a big deal.

mark didn't realize how alone he was, until someone inserted themselves.

he didn’t notice the quiet, until someone filled it. the silence, the loneliness, has been there forever, the closest companion mark has. mark thought everyone lived like this, in solemn silence, every moment like a vigil.

but now donghyuck is here, and sunday mornings are suddenly louder, livelier, than any other day.

suddenly being a hyung feels like something that mark can’t place. instead of respectful distance, it sounds like closeness. donghyuck doesn’t seem to understand the concept of distance, but strangely, mark doesn’t mind. 

over time, donghyuck’s teasing becomes less harsh, and mark learns how to tease back. the thorn in mark's side blooms into a tentative ally, and then to his friend.

everyone at church is nice to mark, because they have to be, but he’s never had church friends who actually liked him. unlike everyone else, donghyuck doesn’t seem to care that mark is the pastor’s son. if anything, that seems like the main item on the short list of reasons why donghyuck wouldn’t want to be his friend.

mark has never laughed so hard in his life as he does with donghyuck. It gets difficult, trying not to be disruptive when donghyuck will seemingly do anything to make mark laugh. mark has almost made himself bleed from biting his tongue, hoping the pain will force the smile off his face. donghyuck only sees this as a challenge, becoming more determined if mark manages to hold it together.

once they’re friends, donghyuck gets more touchy. mark hadn’t thought that was possible, but donghyuck seems to be able to argue with him before mark even says anything. 

mark is convinced he’s been touched more in the past nine months than he has in the rest of his life combined.

he leans his head on mark's shoulder, links their arms, knocks their knees together when they sit next to each other.

mark's heart jumps with panic.

panic... right?

if it happens during a service, mark just pulls away from him, or pushes his hands off. when he looks over, donghyuck is smiling, even if he just got told off.

usually mark pushes him away on a reflex, or when he feels people watching, but he doesn’t really want to stop him. he wants donghyuck to stay close to him.

but when has it ever mattered what mark wants?

he pushes donghyuck away, and waits for him to come back, knowing he always will.

“have you ever kissed anyone?”

mark's whole face turns red at the thought.

“no! of course not!”

his reaction makes donghyuck’s smile grow, “don’t you want to?”

mark bites his tongue, back stiff as a board. he’s not allowed to want that.

donghyuck has to notice, but he continues as if mark wants to be talking about this.

“you have a crush , don’t you? is she pretty?”

mark shakes his head. he does not . boys have crushes on girls. mark lee does not have a crush. 

“she's not pretty?” donghyuck laughs.

“ no , i. it's not–” mark stutters. donghyuck knows exactly how to get mark worked up, and he looks satisfied.

“that’s, i don’t, don’t have a crush.”

“bo-ring,” donghyuck huffs, “ i do.”

mark takes the bait.

“who?”

donghyuck laughs; an angel sounding a trumpet.

is he signaling death, or salvation?

“too easy. guess.”

mark lists the first few girls he thinks of, and donghyuck’s smile fades.

he stares at mark, and mark stares back, trying to decipher the look in his eyes.

“can i tell you something?”

mark nods.

donghyuck extends his pinky, looking at mark expectantly.

mark hesitates for only a second before linking their pinkies, pressing their thumbs together. no telling.

donghyuck bites his lip, voice softer than mark expected.

“it's not a girl. i don't like girls.”

mark jerks away from him, skin burning.

donghyuck’s shoulders sag slightly, face quickly closing itself off.

seemingly endless bible verses run through mark's mind, and he feels his throat closing until he can barely breathe.

“but that’s— you can’t .” he chokes out.

“ why? ” donghyuck sounds annoyed, and not in a joking way.

mark doesn’t answer. donghyuck knows why. he's in their classes with mark, hearing the teacher talk about morality.

but donghyuck’s not asking what the bible says. he’s asking why mark is saying it.

and mark should be saying: because he believes it. because it’s true .

but he can’t answer.

donghyuck leaves, but the lump in mark’s throat stays with him for days.

they barely talk for the next few sundays. it's odd. mark’s grown so used to his presence. he misses him.

it’s after church, and they’re sitting in silence on the front steps, waiting for their parents to finish cleaning up.

donghyuck is angry enough to be ignoring mark, but not so angry that he wouldn’t let mark sit next to him. mark’s not sure why, but that comforts him.

the words have been bouncing around in mark’s head for weeks. they’ve been hidden in a back corner of his mind for what feels like forever, only allowed to be acknowledged during mark’s silent prayers, but donghyuck managed to pull them into the open.

i don’t like girls.

he’d said it so calmly, so surely.

mark screws his eyes shut as he whispers,

i don’t either .

some of the weight on his chest lifts, more than it ever has during his ongoing prayers for forgiveness.

when he finally opens his eyes, donghyuck is already looking at him. waiting for him. he knows donghyuck understands.

donghyuck’s mom calls for him, and he leaves mark sitting by himself.

he spends hours, days , wondering if he had imagined the beginnings of a smile on donghyuck’s face.

—————

mark is fourteen when he lets donghyuck ruin his life.

when mark first met him, he thought donghyuck was the devil. 

Lucifer was an angel, once.

is this how it felt? the fall? 

did it feel like loss, or freedom?

their friendship is mostly back to normal now, but even closer than before. it feels special, holding their shared secret close to their chests. mark's never dared to trust anyone with this, but somehow, with donghyuck, it feels safe.

donghyuck is back to clinging to him, and mark doesn’t push him away. instead, mark gives in. gives in to donghyuck, or maybe to himself.

he tries to ignore that donghyuck’s hands feel like sparks on his skin.

donghyuck’s smile gets less sinister, and more cute . mark starts to panic.

donghyuck is watching him with sparkling eyes. 

“have you figured it out yet?” he whispers. “my crush?”

mark's heart throbs painfully.

he’s too afraid to say it.

is he more afraid to guess wrong, or right? 

donghyuck squeezes his hand.

mark can’t look at him, afraid he'll do something that he just can’t do.

mark squeezes donghyuck’s hand.

they’re at donghyuck’s house today, playing the new pokemon game. luckily for mark, pokemon is cartoonish and fictional enough that it doesn’t break any of his parents guidelines. the two have sleepovers when they both get the game, playing as much as they can within the day they’re together. donghyuck always ends up way ahead, speeding through the first few routes, while mark likes to fill his pokedex as he goes.

his ds is forgotten now, its tinny speaker playing the short loop of music for route three, while donghyuck has already gotten his second gym badge.

mark doesn’t even remember how they ended up like this. they were play-fighting over donghyuck teasing him for taking forever . how are we supposed to play together when you’re all the way back there!

they always sit close to each other, but somehow donghyuck is close enough that mark can feel his breath, and his face isn’t in focus.

they both blink, and don’t move.

and then soft lips are on his.

it's slow, cautious. just a gentle press together, but mark feels it through his whole body. 

this is how it feels , mark thinks. biting the apple . his heart is racing. it feels dangerous, good and bad at the same time.

it’s so sweet, how could he stop? 

mark doesn’t know when his hand found its way to donghyuck’s face. his skin is soft and warm, like his hands.

donghyuck pulls away slightly, and mark follows him. donghyuck starts to smile, and mark does too.

they break into giggles, knees bumping together.

when mark's eyes open again, donghyuck is already looking at him, with an uncharacteristically nervous look on his face.

mark laces their fingers together, and donghyuck takes a shaky breath. neither of them have to say anything.

donghyuck kisses his cheek the next morning, with their moms waiting for them downstairs.

mark feels dazed, starstruck, for hours. then it all comes crashing down on him, and he folds his hands.

i'm sorry, Lord. i looked at a boy, i thought of a boy. i kissed a boy.

it’s hard to even think the words.

i kissed donghyuck.

mark hates his heart for leaping with joy at the memory.

i know there’s something wrong with me. please forgive me. please fix me.

Wash me clean from my guilt. Purify me from my sin.

Psalm 51:2

even though he doesn’t get an answer, mark prays. he spends a lot of time with his hands clasped together, begging for something . why won’t God take these thoughts away? why can’t mark please Him?

why can’t he be forgiven?

they say if you ask, you’ll be forgiven. so why does he still feel sick with guilt?

there's something wrong with mark. not just a mistake he’s made, not a normal sin, but something broken in his soul.

maybe mark isn’t a good person who sins. 

maybe he’s a sinful person who acts like he’s good. 

he tries to push the feelings away, but like Eve, he can’t resist.

he's an ungrateful child, unworthy of forgiveness. unworthy of love.

mark feels bad , being this close to donghyuck in church. they sneak out of their sunday school class, hiding in one of the abandoned classrooms in the furthest corner of the church.

donghyuck sighs with relief when the door shuts behind them, like he couldn’t breathe properly until that moment.

until he stepped into that room, mark hadn’t realized that he had been acting. he feels suffocated around the people he’s supposed to see as family. but here, with donghyuck, he doesn’t have to act. they can just be .

they can laugh, and donghyuck can curse, and mark can hold his hand.

one sunday, when they should be studying Kings with their class, donghyuck kisses him. mark has a moment of panic, feeling oddly sure that he’s going to be dragged down to hell.

but nothing happens.

donghyuck kisses him again, and nothing happens again.

they realize they don’t have to wait until they go home. if God is watching, He doesn’t hate them more if they kiss in His house than if they kiss in their parents’ houses.

it feels bad, rebellious, in a way that makes mark's heart flutter with immoral excitement.

that stuffy attic room feels more like a sanctuary than anywhere else in the building.

no one will catch them staring at each other, or give donghyuck dirty looks for being too touchy . 

(shouldn’t mark be the one to decide if donghyuck is being too touchy? his mother tells him that it’s simply not allowed, not appropriate. mark learns his body is not his own.)

(when did a hug start qualifying as sins of the flesh? the thought makes mark's ears burn.) 

their class is so big that their short absences aren’t noticed often. the teachers are kind of obligated to like mark, so they don’t like getting him in trouble. and donghyuck, being attached to mark's hip, is usually spared as well.

whenever they’re alone together, they're glued to each other. they always want to be closer.

sharing nervous kisses, burning with shame and desire.

it’s shameful, really, how much he thinks about it. the brush of donghyuck’s eyelashes, the skipping pulse in his wrist.

their shaky breaths, shaky hands. desperate, wanting.

then guilt washes over mark, and he folds his hands.

no amount of praying will redeem him when he keeps going back.

before he met donghyuck, mark thought he had a lot of self-restraint. maybe he’d just never been tested. or maybe he’s never wanted anything this much.

he can almost forget the guilt when they’re together, but it overwhelms mark when he’s alone.

he’s bad for giving in to temptation, bad for lying about it, and bad for enjoying it. he’s not sure which is worse.

he doesn’t understand how kissing donghyuck, liking him, feels both good and bad. 

how can it be both?

it can’t be both.

but mark feels bad when he goes to church, too.

one of these things is good, and one is evil. but it’s not like he can ask anyone which is which. he already knows what they’d say, but somehow it doesn’t seem right.

mark notices immediately when someone is staring at him. at them .

donghyuck is either oblivious, or much braver than mark is. he’s always been affectionate, but it scares mark more now. it’s not just innocent anymore. he’s so terrified of anyone noticing, anyone finding out. sometimes it feels like they’re tainted somehow, like the elders can see it on them. 

or maybe they can't bear to look away from donghyuck, either.

now that donghyuck touching him doesn’t send him into a spiral of misunderstood feelings, mark doesn’t pull his hand out of donghyuck’s grip immediately. he’s completely drawn into donghyuck’s smile, and the warmth of his hand.

one of the deacons glances at them multiple times in under a minute, and mark is instantly thrown back into reality. he pulls on donghyuck’s wrist to disconnect their hands, letting the familiar cold flood his body. 

he feels a different kind of guilt when he has to push donghyuck away. a more concrete guilt, because of the glimmer of hurt on donghyuck’s face.

it makes him angry.

he doesn’t want to be apart from him, but he does it anyway.

mark feels guilt press on his chest every time his parents encourage him to spend more time with donghyuck.

“i know you like those boys from school,” his mother tells him, “but your friends from church are the ones you’ll keep forever. they’re your family.”

(they’re the good people, he hears. don’t you want to be good?)

he doesn’t think she’d say that, if she knew what they did. he’s not sure he’s a good person. is going to church every week the only qualification?

still, mark hopes she's right. hopes he’ll be with donghyuck forever.

mark is dishonest enough not to argue, not to confess his sins to her. instead, he takes every opportunity to be alone with donghyuck.

they climb trees, play video games, talk about school.

donghyuck lays his head on mark’s lap and plays with his fingers.

they wonder if they’ll go to hell.

donghyuck kisses mark, and mark kisses him back.

it feels safe. it feels right.

until donghyuck goes home and mark, left alone with his thoughts, has a very one-sided conversation with God.

he can’t remember if it always felt like he was yelling into the void, or if this is a recent development.

does God give people the silent treatment? mark doesn’t remember hearing that, but he has been missing lots of sunday school recently.

but he’s not sure he’d prefer it, to hear God’s disappointed voice, when mark confesses the same sins to Him every day.

donghyuck doesn’t quite get it. he doesn’t get why mark kisses him like he’s starving, then can’t even look at him the next day.

he’s not a patient person. 

if it’s mark, he thinks he could be.

mark knows there's something wrong with them. they shouldn’t do this. shouldn’t even want to. he knows that. 

but he can’t stop wanting it, not when it feels so right to be with donghyuck.

it doesn’t matter , doesn’t matter what he does, how much he prays. because the thoughts are still there, and so is the guilt. it seems like God will hate him anyway. he doesn’t feel worse over actually kissing donghyuck than he does about wanting to kiss donghyuck. and he doubts he’ll stop wanting that any time soon.

it seems like basically everything makes him feel guilty. it may as well be the things he wants to do.

There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to Him:

haughty eyes,

the teacher hands out a pamphlet about appropriate behaviour between the two genders, and mark catches donghyuck rolling his eyes. mark bites his lip to keep from smiling.

a lying tongue,  

“how was your class today?” 

mark forces a smile as he looks at his mom. 

“good. we’re studying Corinthians.” 

a heart that devises wicked schemes, 

donghyuck’s hand brushes his on the walk from the sanctuary to the classroom, glancing towards the ceiling. mark gives him a small nod.

feet that are quick to rush into evil, 

donghyuck pulls mark down the hall, running into the empty room that they call theirs . his hands are on mark’s face the second the door closes. 

a false witness who pours out lies  

“oh, mrs. choi, hi! we were just looking for the bulletins.” donghyuck smiles sweetly, and mark nods, running a hand through his hair, hoping donghyuck’s fingers haven’t messed it up too badly. “we can hand them out, if you want.”

and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.

mark is stuck here, in the almost empty church, just like he is during every budget meeting. he had watched donghyuck leave, giving an awkward wave when people were around. 

he’s chewing on one of the miniature mars bars donghyuck had given him that morning. he brought mark a ziploc bag full of them, smiling proudly when mark said they were his favourite. 

i know , donghyuck rolled his eyes, what kind of best friend would i be if i didn’t know that?

mark had punched his arm, trying to cover up how his heart was racing. it was just candy, not a big deal. but it felt important. when it’s donghyuck, most things do.

mark still can’t believe people give you free candy if you wear a costume. he’s always spent october thirty-first doing devotionals with his parents.

tired of doing laps around the building, he wanders back towards the sanctuary. 

the meeting should be over. why is the door still closed? he reaches for the handle, but freezes when he hears his mother’s voice.

“.. that demonic... to my son–”

she sounds angry, disgusted .

mark suddenly feels sick, and he doesn’t think it’s from the candy.

“that boy is a bad influence.” 

it takes over an hour for mark’s ears to stop ringing.

his bag of candy is left with the food bank donations.

————

mark is fifteen when he starts to get too curious. 

he knows there’s a line, where his parents start to look more irritated than pleased by his questions.

certain topics being simply off limits only makes him more desperate for answers.

donghyuck is old enough for youth group now, and he organizes his dance class schedule for the year to be available for it.

mark does not admit to feeling giddy about that.

nothing is different, but youth group is about thirty times more enjoyable than it was last year.

mark has a newfound appreciation for tuesdays. mark’s parents aren’t there. there’s less Church Stuff, less judgemental ajummas, and less five minute escapes from staring at the bible. there’s mainly games, with only intermittent bible verses. it’s harder to sneak away, so they have to act a little bit, but they’re allowed to talk, at least. mark’s more than willing to make that trade, for an extra two hours with donghyuck. mark doesn’t know how he’s gone his whole life without getting to hear donghyuck’s laugh echoing through the gym.

to no one’s surprise, they’re almost always partners for activities. donghyuck is at mark’s side before the youth pastor finishes explaining the game. he’s also become gifted at predicting when the pastor will split them into groups by counting them off, and donghyuck moves to the correct spot in the circle accordingly. continuing his winning streak, he jogs towards mark with a proud smile, and mark tries not to look too pleased.

“donghyuck is so obsessed with mark,” he hears rachel whisper to her friends, and they giggle quietly in response. “it’s kinda pathetic.”

“i bet he’s gay .”

she says it like it’s a bad word. something in mark snaps. 

he pushes the door open, making it bang against the wall. the girls have the decency to look embarrassed. 

“it’s wrong to gossip.” mark says through gritted teeth, fists clenched at his sides.

“i’m sorry , markie.” rachel pouts, fluttering her eyelashes. mark stares at her blankly, and her eyes narrow as the group of girls pushes past him back into the gym.

when mark meets his eyes later, donghyuck looks worried.

he only realizes when he gets a headache that night that his jaw had been clenched for the rest of the evening.

mark hadn’t been prepared for the abstinence talks. it’s the first talk mark has had, as his parents pulled him out of the one at school.

he tries not to think about it, because even the word “sex” makes his face burn.

aside from the underlying feeling that these things shouldn’t even be mentioned, mark doesn’t think too hard about it. the cautionary tales make sense, mostly.

mark feels guilty, even though he hasn’t done any of the things he’s being warned about. he feels guilty for even thinking about it, even though he’s being forced to think about it. 

the uneasiness is relatively easy to ignore, since none of it feels like it applies to him, anyway. it’s not like he’s going to get anybody pregnant.

until the week when the teacher brings up the dangers of homosexuality.

mark manages not to react, and not to look at donghyuck. he manages to hold it together until after the teacher has moved on to the next subject, so he can inconspicuously excuse himself to the bathroom and try to force back his tears. mark only cries when he knows it’s safe, and he’s never felt less safe than he does in that moment.

donghyuck has been trying not to look too worried, not to stare at mark. he wants to comfort him, but he doesn’t know how.

he can tell mark is upset, but he’s not sure what to do about it, other than his reckless urge to get in an ideological argument with their teacher. he bites his tongue, because he wants to help mark, and that definitely won’t help. mark doesn’t get upset, not like this. donghyuck’s not sure how to react, other than to be the one to check with their mothers that mark can come over after church, since mark looks like he might burst into tears if he opens his mouth.

mark is mostly silent on the drive to donghyuck’s house, and donghyuck is almost scared mark doesn’t want to be there. his hands are in fists, and he’s biting the inside of his lip, staring out the window.

but the door to donghyuck’s room closes behind them, and tears come immediately to mark’s eyes. his mind is racing so fast it’s giving him a headache. he drops onto the floor next to donghyuck’s bed, covering his face with his hands, trying to muffle his sobs.

mark’s bedroom used to be the only place he felt comfortable crying, but now he finds donghyuck’s room even more comfortable. he can’t think of an acceptable reason for that. it’s either because donghyuck is nearby, or because his parents aren’t.

he feels donghyuck sit next to him with a soft sigh. immediately, mark finds it easier to breathe.

mark knows church can’t be bad, so it must be him. was their teacher right? but why does he feel so safe with donghyuck, safer than he ever has when surrounded by church people . is he so bad, so tainted, that he can’t even be around God's people anymore?

his anxious brain shuts off when donghyuck nudges him cautiously, with a whisper of hyung . mark leans his head on donghyuck’s shoulder, and an arm wraps around him immediately.

“do you think we’re gonna go to Hell?” mark whispers, eyes still red with tears.

donghyuck shrugs, “dunno. seems like a bit of an overreaction.”

mark wants to laugh, but he must flinch a bit, part of him panicking over donghyuck questioning God’s judgement.

donghyuck squeezes his hand, and gives him a small smile.

“i’d be okay either way. Hell would be fine, if we were together.”

it should sound like a joke, but mark can tell he means it. the thought should scare mark, but instead it makes his heart lighter.

mark squeezes donghyuck’s hand, unable to agree with him verbally.

when did hell with donghyuck start sounding better than heaven without him?

mark wants it to be real. he thinks.

It . Him. God.

he wants to believe his parents, when they tell him God loves him.

he used to believe them. didn’t he?

God doesn’t change, so it must be him.

he just needs to have faith. 

he asks for a sign. that must be why he doesn’t get one.

if he was Good, if he Believed, God would show Himself to mark.

Heavenly Father makes sense. He’s just like mark’s actual father.

He loves him, even if mark doesn’t feel it. even if all he feels most days is disappointment.

it’s easier to understand, God not wanting him. if God really knows everything he does, mark can’t blame Him.

what mark can’t understand is why his dad acts the same.

either, like God, mark’s dad knows , or he’s studied Him for so long that he’s becoming Him. 

mark doubts it’s the former. he has a feeling donghyuck wouldn’t be allowed to sleep over anymore if their parents knew how much mark liked kissing him.

mark doesn’t really like going to church anymore. at least, not the church part. not that it matters, because he doesn’t have a choice. even if he dared to say that to his parents, their solution would always be more church, not less.

they’re old enough to stay in the adult service now, rather than going to a separate class for the kids, which makes it even harder to sneak out undetected.

he meets donghyuck’s gaze across the aisle, and donghyuck has a devious smile on his lips. he whispers something to his mother, then gets up. 

mark remains seated for a minute, to maintain plausible deniability. he tells himself that’s not what he’s doing, because he’s not going to get up.

but he thinks of donghyuck waiting for him, and he can’t resist.

he mutters something about going to the washroom, and speed-walks to the open doors at the back of the sanctuary.

donghyuck is standing around the corner, smile reappearing when he sees mark. 

he silently links their fingers together, tugging mark towards the stairs. mark glances over his shoulder, and lets donghyuck pull him along.

mark’s not sure how long they’re gone. it’s only a few minutes, probably, of giving in to temptation. time doesn’t pass normally when they’re together.

the congregation is large enough that no one besides their parents notices their absence. they slip back into their seats, and all mark can do is hope the trace of donghyuck’s teeth on his jaw isn’t noticeable.

when donghyuck walks past him at the end of the service, bitten lips curling into a smile, mark tries not to turn red.

there’s a weight on his shoulders, the second he steps into the building. there’s a distance he feels from this version of himself, in his nice jeans, the ones that aren’t torn or grass-stained.

his head is bowed, because his father is praying, and he should be focusing on the scripture.

Everything you speak to me is like joyous treasure, filling my life with gladness.

his father talks about joy, and mark’s mind wanders to his friends who go to the skatepark on sunday mornings, his favourite song that he can only listen to with his headphones on, and donghyuck’s mouth.

is that joy? the things you want, but aren’t allowed to have?

his father would probably tell him he only wants them because they’re not good for him. temptation, that’s all.

mark’s not sure he finds joy in anything his parents would approve of. is he that broken, that he only wants things because they’re not permitted?

mark’s not sure what’s worse— the constant guilt, or the horror when he realizes he’s stopped feeling guilty.

he should feel guilty. what he’s doing is wrong. 

isn’t it?

donghyuck’s touch makes mark believe in magic, even though he’s not allowed to. donghyuck laughs, and mark hears hymns. when mark hears angel , he sees donghyuck.

this is worship, he realizes.

mark wants to worship donghyuck.

he wants to worship the near-permanent bruises on his knees, the delicate shape of his fingers, the moles on his neck.

he wants to see, wants to touch. wants everything, so badly his head spins.

mark shivers, and kneels beside his bed.

he prays to a god, but thinks of a boy.

he asks for forgiveness he knows he won’t receive. he isn’t sure he’d want it, even if it was offered to him. he’s not sure salvation is worth the price anymore.

——————

mark is sixteen when he starts to stray.

the teachings make less sense, sound more fictional. he finds himself unable to focus on Ephesians, instead staring at the blue sky through the window. he wonders how the world looks on sunday mornings. he wonders how it feels to sleep in on the day of rest.

donghyuck doesn’t come every week anymore. 

mark really doesn’t like church on those days. 

he can’t decide if he’s more jealous of donghyuck or of the people who get to see him that day.

donghyuck isn’t even there, but somehow he’s even more distracting than usual.

donghyuck has a dance show today, and mark doesn’t get to go to it, because it’s sunday. mark tries not to be resentful. he tries to tell himself church is the most important, although it doesn’t sound true. 

(he’d only gotten to see donghyuck perform a couple times, at smaller shows throughout the year that weren’t on sundays. donghyuck was even more beautiful than usual.

mark’s mom had picked them both up, and the silence during the drive home had been stifling. 

mark heard his mother on the phone that evening, telling one of her friends about that donghyuck lee whose mother allowed him, a boy , to wear makeup . 

disgraceful .

mark had spent the night searching for bible verses that said men couldn’t wear makeup, and came up empty.

but if the bible didn’t say it, why was his mother so angry?

mark hasn’t been to a show since then.)

the thoughts that swirl through mark’s head, distracting him from the sermon, are bad enough. then donghyuck sends him a picture in his glittery costume and eyeliner , and mark nearly curses under his breath.

(on monday, donghyuck gives mark a private performance in his bedroom. he’s wearing normal clothes, but he did his makeup, smiling knowingly when mark’s ears turn red.

mark’s starting to doubt God, but he knows he believes in angels.)

mark realizes that being without donghyuck sounds much worse than being disconnected from God , or whatever his parents would call it. he knows that it makes him bad, valuing earthly pleasures over The Saviour.

but that doesn’t stop it from being true.

that doesn’t stop him from knowing he would choose donghyuck over church, God, all of it, without hesitation.

it might be the truest thing he’s ever known. he’s never felt so sure about anything. normally he questions every thought he has.

maybe if he felt equally wanted, it would be a harder decision.

it should scare him, but the alternative is much scarier. 

how can mark want him so badly, when he’s sitting right next to him? desire tears through him, strong enough that he shivers, his fingers twitching in his lap.

donghyuck is right there , but it’s not enough. they need to be alone, safe, where donghyuck can lay his head on mark’s shoulder, and mark‘s fingertips can trace patterns on his skin.

mark lets himself daydream about it, sometimes. a place that’s just theirs, where they don’t have to jump apart when they hear footsteps in the hall. where donghyuck can bite his neck hard enough to bruise, where they could hold hands whenever they felt like it. they could fall asleep with their limbs tangled together, and wake up slowly in the morning. instead, they wait until the last possible second before falling asleep to crawl out of mark’s bed and into their sleeping bags. even more asleep than awake, they fear the consequences if their parents found them like that.

mark makes a soft sound of complaint, confused by donghyuck pulling away. he keeps his arms wrapped around mark’s shoulders, watching mark with honest eyes.

“mark?” donghyuck whispers, like he needed to get mark’s attention. he’s running his fingers through mark’s hair, in the way he knows mark loves.

mark watches him, waiting, and donghyuck gives him a shy smile.

“i love you.”

mark doesn’t know the last time he’s heard it. 

the word, he hears all the time. it’s been years since mark felt like it applied to him. the bible mentions it a lot, loving the world , and God’s children , and a vague you .

mark tries to find a memory of a real person, telling mark they love him , specifically.

his parents say it. not that they love him, but that God loves him. it’s always seemed impersonal to him, but he thinks he believed it, when he was a kid.

they say it less often now than they used to. 

there’s a voice in mark’s mind, if they knew. if they knew what you were, they wouldn’t. wouldn’t say it, and wouldn’t mean it if they did.  

but donghyuck knows.

donghyuck knows , and he loves mark.

flowers bloom in mark’s veins, and he kisses donghyuck again.

donghyuck, who loves him.

“i love you, donghyuckie,” he whispers back.

a secret, a promise.

donghyuck smiles against mark’s mouth.

their youth pastor, in a desperate attempt to keep them at youth group during the summer, is taking them swimming.

mark isn’t even thinking, isn’t preparing himself for what he’s about to witness. 

then he sees donghyuck.

donghyuck, whose shorts barely cover half of his thighs. 

he averts his eyes once he realizes he’s staring. mark’s hoping he can use the sun as an excuse for his red ears.

just when he thinks he’s starting to recover, donghyuck jumps into the pool next to him. mark closes his eyes to avoid being blinded by chlorinated water, and when he opens them, he learns that donghyuck’s t-shirt is nearly translucent when it’s wet. 

donghyuck smirks when he catches the look on mark’s face.

“what’re you staring at?” donghyuck says under his breath, splashing water into mark’s face. mark splashes him back, laughing when donghyuck shrieks dramatically.

eventually they get tired, and donghyuck pulls himself out of the water to lay on one of the pool chairs. mark has to try extremely hard to look at him a normal amount. he tells himself to focus on his face, not the rest of him. 

it’s unfair, really, how good donghyuck looks with wet hair. it's almost painful, how much mark wants to touch him.

he’s so pretty that mark almost forgets where they are. mark almost forgets that he’s not supposed to want this, and not allowed to have it.

donghyuck is so familiar to him. mark thought he knew everything about him. but now mark is haunted by the tiny flashes of donghyuck’s exposed stomach, his legs, his shoulders. after seeing these foreign parts of him, mark realizes how much of donghyuck he doesn’t know yet.

he realizes how badly he wants to know.

he wants to feel every inch of donghyuck’s skin, map out his constellations of freckles until they’re ingrained in his memory.

“you have a mole here,” mark whispers, thumb brushing donghyuck’s arm.

donghyuck hums, like he hadn’t really noticed it. mark pays much more attention to him than even he does. if mark looked at him, he would see his face get pink when mark presses his lips to the skin.

they sit in church, and mark tries not to stare, tries not to be distracted.

he closes his eyes for prayer, and is met with images he finds much more interesting than Psalms.

The Lord’s Prayer starts to taste like ash. he’s been saying it mindlessly for his entire life, but now that it suddenly has meaning, he can barely utter the words.

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

mark resolutely does not look at donghyuck. 

he's not sure if donghyuck is the temptation or the deliverance.

donghyuck’s skin smells like sunscreen.

he tastes like heaven, or maybe hell. mark’s finding that he can’t tell the difference sometimes.

maybe mark’s never been a good christian, but donghyuck feels sacred to him.

he thinks this might be as close to heaven as they ever get.

that doesn’t bother mark anymore. he doubts heaven would be as good as this.

mark loves july. he and donghyuck are the same age. they don’t have school keeping them apart during the week. the heat is almost unbearable in the city, but donghyuck is even more beautiful in the summer sun.

mark likes church less in the summer. maybe because he doesn’t have to wait for church to see donghyuck, or maybe because the older he gets, the more it all sounds like a less enjoyable shakespeare play.

its stifling, having to pretend he doesn’t want donghyuck. exhausting, constantly overthinking his every movement, every breath he takes. 

he gets to see (as in, look at ) donghyuck at church, but it’s not the same. he has to worship God, and shake people’s hands, and please his parents. he has to settle for catching donghyuck’s smile, through the sea of people praying.

mark doesn’t like church in the summer, because he doesn’t need it to see (as in, be with ) donghyuck.

just as he’s been taught that he doesn’t need to be at church to worship God, mark learns he doesn’t need to be at church to worship donghyuck. 

mark loves donghyuck even more when he’s free. his hair blown in the wind, swearing out loud, wearing an old t-shirt he didn’t have to iron. 

holding mark’s hand, sitting so close on the skytrain that mark can feel the warmth of his bare leg.

that summer, mark admits to himself that he never wants to be without donghyuck. he tries not to think about what he means by that, the implications, the future.

it feels important, but it doesn’t scare him. his heart races with excitement, not terror.

that summer, mark starts to get frustrated with church. he’s tired of being stuck in the same building, sitting still when it’s so beautiful outside. he asks his mom if he can go see the new spider-man movie with donghyuck, because sunday is opening day. his mother’s face darkens, and mark doesn’t even need to hear her answer.

but he gets an answer all the same. his mother telling him, voice clipped with irritation, that a movie is not worth skipping church over. what could possibly be more valuable than church? mark wonders if people really get value out of reading the same book every week of their lives. there are only 1200 pages in the Bible. surely it shouldn’t take a whole lifetime to get through it all, when his subpar math teacher can get through 500 pages in a year.

just as importantly, what would people think if the pastor's own son didn’t bother showing up? mark has a responsibility, an example to set.

mark wants to argue: isn’t a responsibility something you choose? hasn’t he set a good example for the first sixteen years of his life? he can count on one hand the number of times he’s missed a sunday. shouldn’t he get a pass for his good behaviour?

but he shouldn’t want a pass.

because good christians, good people , want to go to church. they look forward to it. 

mark does look forward to it, but not for reasons his parents would approve of.

so he keeps his mouth shut. 

he bites his tongue, agrees with his mother, and goes to church.

donghyuck isn’t there.

mark thinks of his mother’s disappointment, and donghyuck’s sympathy.

he thinks of a different life, one where he gets to decide what he wants to do on a sunday morning. one where he can kiss donghyuck beyond the safety of a locked room. 

mark prays. he’s not even sure what for.

he doesn’t get an answer.

————

mark is barely seventeen when his life falls apart.

school has started, although no one told the sun that summer is supposed to be over. it’s his last year of high school, which is his second-last year of going to a different school than donghyuck. only a couple more years until he’ll see him every day. maybe they’ll finally get an apartment together. the thought makes mark dizzy with excitement.

his father calls mark into his office, with the stern look and calm voice that mark is terrified of. the whole situation is unnerving. it’s been years since he’s even been in this room.

he’s holding mark’s unlocked phone, and mark thinks he might be sick.

mark has always been afraid of his parents’ judgement. his father’s words are vague enough that mark can’t tell if he knows or not, and mark isn't going to admit to anything, but he can feel his pulse racing.

how long have his parents been going through his phone?

how much have they seen?

“i don’t want you seeing that donghyuck anymore.”

mark’s veins freeze over. it’s worded like a suggestion, or advice, but mark knows what he’s saying.

you’re not seeing donghyuck anymore.  

mark has his head bowed, hopefully hiding whatever horrified expression he can’t keep off his face.

see, as in, be with? or see, as in, look at?

he’s too scared to ask. if he opens his mouth, he might yell, or cry, and that will only make things worse.

mark doesn’t remember walking back to his room, but he’s on his bed.

he feels dizzy, but closing his eyes makes it worse. he needs to talk to someone, but he doesn’t have his phone. he wants to scream, but he can’t move.

he sits up straight when his mom walks in, sitting next to him with a sympathetic sigh. 

“i know he was your friend,” 

was . mark’s nails dig into his palms.

“but he’s not good for you.”

mark bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes iron.

he’s starting to think his parents don’t know what the word good means. or maybe he doesn’t.

“He just wants you to be happy.”

mark doesn’t know which of his Fathers she means. he’s not sure it matters.

“you can’t be happy if you surround yourself with the wrong people.”

wrong. bad.

mark knows this already, but he’d never heard it like this. hearing it from his mother, directed at donghyuck, feels like a knife in his heart.

your real friends, the ones from church. they’re the ones you‘ll keep forever.

mark doesn’t ask her if she thinks God would forgive her for being such a hypocrite . he doesn’t say that if there’s something wrong with donghyuck, mark is just as bad. he doesn’t say that he’s sick of God controlling their lives. 

he doesn’t say anything , too afraid of what might spill out if he opens his mouth.

all he can do is stare at the floor and wait for his mother to leave him alone.

she reaches out to pat his shoulder, and he flinches.

“God has not called us for impurity, but in holiness,” she recites. mark wonders if she knows how to say anything that isn’t from the bible.

has he ever heard comforting words, advice, that didn’t start and end with God says? 

is that what his mother thinks he is? impure?

isn’t she right?

any way he tries to orchestrate it, he can’t find a way to see donghyuck.

he’s always had to tell his parents where he would be, with whom, and at what time. he can’t get his friends’ moms to lie for him. there’s no way to get around it without them knowing. 

he can’t text donghyuck.

his parents are checking his phone when he hands it over at night, he’s sure of it. 

the thought of his parents seeing an incriminating text makes him feel sick.

he’s afraid of his parents' reactions, when they’re already suspicious. if mark was anxious before, now he’s paranoid . he’s hyper aware of everything he does, every word he says in front of them. he lies awake at night, analyzing every interaction he and donghyuck had where his parents might have seen. how did mark not notice their disapproval? how did he think he could get away with this?

he doesn’t know what they’ll do if he blatantly disobeys them. he’s never done it before.

he thinks about it a lot, asking them for one last day, one hour, one minute.

but he knows better than to try and convince his parents to change their minds.

he has no way to reach donghyuck, but maybe it’s for the best.

what would he even say?

he thinks it would destroy him, having to say goodbye to donghyuck.

maybe it’s better like this. less painful, to not constantly be faced with what he can’t have.

it's only after he loses donghyuck that he realizes they didn’t use a word for what they were doing. what they were.

best friends , obviously. mark remembers the poorly made thread bracelets they wore until they fell apart. they had a five dollar bet over whose would last longer. mark won, by a few hours, and donghyuck paid his debt with kisses.

partners in crime , as donghyuck’s mom called them. mark's not sure he’s brave enough to do anything they did together when he’s alone. what would be the point? the joy didn’t come from breaking rules, it came from donghyuck’s smile when they did.

mark hadn’t even considered a word like boyfriend . the thought alone makes his face burn. it feels both too big and too small.

he was just donghyuck. mark's donghyuck.

is this a breakup? mark doesn’t know. it feels like one. but how can you break up with someone you weren’t dating?

it doesn’t really matter whether donghyuck was his boyfriend or not. it still feels like his heart was ripped out of his chest.

maybe that’s worse than a break up. his heart doesn’t feel broken. broken things can be fixed. he’s not sure there’s a word for this amount of destruction. it's not just his heart; it tears all the way down his torso like a crack in the earth's surface, threatening to split his entire body in two.

at school, no one notices there’s much wrong. by now, he’s gotten too good at hiding, at lying .

he gets home, and closes himself in his room. he can’t even look at his parents; the anger in his eyes would be obvious if they looked for it. he’s so afraid of doing something wrong, he doesn’t want to be around them at all.

his room doesn’t feel safe like it used to.

he cries once his parents are asleep. all day, he’s so numb he’s sure he won’t be able to cry, but he can’t swallow the tears at night.

he doesn’t have anyone he can talk to. there’s only one person he’s ever trusted with something like this. there’s only one person he wants .

he wonders if donghyuck hates him now. if he thinks mark doesn’t want him anymore.

the thought makes mark ache, so deep inside he couldn’t hope to reach it.

he laces his fingers together, trying to recreate the comfort of donghyuck’s touch.

it looks like he’s praying. mark’s hands fly apart like they’ve been burned.

he lies in his cold bed, hands empty, thinking so loudly he’s almost scared his parents can hear.

he's sure God can. he feels the urge to scream curses at Him. does it count as blasphemy if you don’t say it out loud?

no wonder his parents don’t like him. he can’t even have good thoughts , let alone good actions.

is this really less painful? what could possibly be more painful than this?

is this what Hell would be?

the eternal fire of punishment, for his unnatural desires?

the punishment is failing, because he doesn’t feel remorse. he feels anger.

how can something so instinctive be unnatural? 

for the first time, when donghyuck is pushed away, he doesn’t come back to mark.

it takes twenty-seven weeks for mark’s head to convince his heart that the hope he feels every sunday is pointless. 

donghyuck isn't coming back.

donghyuck doesn’t come back to church.

mark buries himself in it.

what other option is there?

this is the only place mark can go where his parents won’t suffocate him, if only because they trust the people at church to suffocate mark for them.

youth group, bible study, worship practice, saturday evening, sunday morning.

youth events. summer camp. volunteering.

the months, summers, blend together. outside of school and work, he doesn’t have time for anything else.

the more time he has to himself, the more he has to think about bad things . things that are off limits. things that make him feel too much. 

you can’t feel bad if you don’t feel anything. right?

mark doesn’t cry anymore. he thought that was a good thing, that it meant it didn’t hurt. that he could ignore the guilt slowly eating away at him.

but all the unspoken pain, the anger, with no way out, embedded itself in him.

maybe trying not to feel bad is only making mark feel worse. or maybe, everything makes mark feel worse. 

he doesn't know when he stopped feeling real. mark doesn’t think about any of it, just does what he’s meant to do. he's following God’s plan, or something.

he tries not to let himself wonder: shouldn’t what he’s meant to do feel better than this?

it's a dangerous question, so he doesn’t ask it. 

is this devotion? doing what you should, rather than what you want?

his parents are proud.

that's all he wants.

that's all he needs.

right?

he prays sometimes, when he’s not pretending to pray.

it doesn’t help, but maybe that’s the point. maybe it’s His newest way to torture mark. maybe he can tell mark isn’t sure what he’s apologizing for. getting caught, mainly.

mark isn’t sure how to show remorse for something he doesn’t feel bad about.

God hating him doesn’t scare him anymore. he’s been sure about that for a couple years. 

the fact that he doesn’t feel bad, that scares him slightly.

he tells himself it all makes sense to him. he tells himself he believes it. 

why else would he feel so much guilt? 

he must’ve been wrong. maybe donghyuck really did lead him astray.

that's harder to believe. harder to convince himself of.

but Eve was convinced the snake was a friend.

almost all good things have linked themselves to him in mark’s brain.

mark can recognize that that’s not normal. but he also doesn’t know what other positive things he could replace those thoughts with. 

he spends every day for a week, trying to find something in his life that makes him happy. 

the only things he finds lead him back to donghyuck.

he digs his skateboard out of the closet, that he hasn’t touched in years. he had forgotten his friends writing their names on the bottom with a sharpie. a few times, donghyuck had come with him to the skatepark. mark remembers how impressed he had looked, and how he had squeezed mark’s hand. none of mark’s friends had reacted, and mark felt something like hope, that maybe some people wouldn’t find them disgusting. maybe they wouldn’t always have to be a secret.

mark realizes he hadn’t seen those friends in months, maybe a year. did mark ignore them, or did they get tired of him? 

he plays his guitar. not looking at sheet music, just messing around. he can almost hear donghyuck singing. the melody starts to sound familiar— that song they’d been writing together. 

every novel he wants to read, he hears his mother’s voice; inappropriate . and donghyuck’s voice; cool!

everywhere he turns, he sees another memory, another scar, another lie. 

it hurts his head. he gives up, and spends more time reading the Bible. maybe it’ll make more sense if he reads it again. maybe that’s why people spend their whole lives studying it. 

—————

mark is in university now. he doesn’t really remember how. it doesn’t feel exciting, or different. it doesn’t feel like anything. 

it’s still just school, that he does during the day, before church.

mark had prayed for guidance around choosing a major— the only advice his parents had for him when he said he wasn’t sure. he comes to them with an answer that pleases them. he wonders why God’s voice sounded just like his father’s.

he misses it, misses him , too much. so much that he doesn’t have room for anything else. he's never laughed that hard with anyone. he's never felt so comfortable being touched. he's never wanted to be touched so much.

no one touches mark anymore.

his father squeezed his shoulder, he thinks, last christmas. he can’t remember the time before that.

even if they try, he doesn’t let them. he finds himself flinching away from people when they get too close. it just feels wrong , to touch, to be touched. even if it’s only a hug.

is this purity?

can this possibly make him good, make him clean again?

or is it too late?

the image is familiar to mark by now; the speaker trying to separate the pieces of paper he’d glued together, warning them of the dangers of forming physical attachments to those who are only a boyfriend or girlfriend, rather than a husband or wife.

it’s too late, mark realizes, far too late to prevent pieces of donghyuck from being stuck to him permanently.

mark feels just like that, that shredded piece of paper.

it looks like a stained glass window, so covered in scraps of other sheets that it’s almost impossible to tell which of the colours of paper it was originally.

(the paper looks like art, rather than destruction. why can’t it be beautiful, to be a mosaic of the people you’ve loved? why does it have to be wrong?

a sin is still a sin, even if it’s pretty to look at. maybe the beauty is part of the sin. mark tries not to picture donghyuck.)

the speaker makes it sound so simple, as if that one act, on one occasion, will bond you forever. 

but they didn’t have to have sex to be bonded together.

with donghyuck, it wasn’t one moment.

it happened over years, until their souls were so close they started to meld together.

is sex really more meaningful than that? 

more intimate than having someone you miss when they’re away for a few minutes, someone you trust with the parts of yourself that you hate?

there’s no purity talk for that— for being irreversibly in love with someone you can’t have. for being torn apart, damaged , by something that’s supposed to be protecting you.

the pieces of paper wouldn’t be ripped if the pastor hadn’t tried to pull them apart.

even if they had been warned ahead of time, how attached they would become, mark can’t find any regret for being with donghyuck.

the only thing he regrets is allowing donghyuck to be ripped away from him. 

mark doesn’t know how many times he catches himself thinking about him. 

It's been over a year and a half since the last time he kissed donghyuck. 557 days.

he can’t think of one of those days that he hasn’t been pushing thoughts of bright eyes and soft hands and loud laughter into the back of his mind.

he can't push them out of his dreams, though, and a mixture of fantasies and memories plays in his subconscious almost every night.

he doesn’t know what’s worse— reliving happy memories, or having to wake up from them.

mark is eighteen when he accepts that he’ll never get rid of donghyuck.

mark is almost nineteen when he accepts that he doesn’t want to.

his life is divided into three clear parts: 

before donghyuck. donghyuck. after donghyuck. 

after donghyuck feels like a blur, somehow simultaneously four days and forty years long. 

he’s learned to live with it, the aching feeling in his chest. he’s learned to keep his head down, and do his work. he’s a good student, and an okay son. he’s at church enough that his parents don’t give him weird looks or ask him any panic-inducing questions.

that’s all he can allow himself to want.

almost all days feel the same. the only way he can keep track of time is the dates that feel like wounds.

march is an ache in his ribs, an itch in his fingers.

dread is all that remains of anticipation; in may, it creeps up slowly, strangling mark like a vine. 

june is longing that cuts mark like a blade, reopening the wound on his chest. it stings, an endless reminder that he’s missing something, something so important it hurts to think about.

the sun isn’t as bright in july as it used to be.

august is empty. he’s supposed to be happy, that another year has passed. it only adds weight around his ankles.

september comes, and mark feels it like a knife. he’s not sure which memory is more painful: the first or the last. his hands are stained red.

by the end of november, he’s bleeding out. how much longer can he survive this? how much longer does he want to?

advent should be joyous, but mark doesn’t have a saviour. it doesn’t upset him like it used to. why would he want an eternity of this?

it’s strange, because mark used to like people, but now he can only breathe when he’s alone. 

he likes being alone, but not in his room. he doesn’t like to be in his house, if he can help it. it’s bad enough that memories chase him into his dreams; he doesn’t want to be suffocated by them while he’s awake, too.

most of them are ones he barely remembers, the only proof being the pictures on the walls.

then there are the ones only he knows about. there’s no proof of them, but they feel more real than anything else in his life. they’re the ones he can’t think about without his body feeling cold.

he feels safe in his car. it’s his, not his parents’. he can listen to whatever music he wants, and pretend he’s not thinking about other things. 

in his car, there’s no one watching him. no one expecting anything from him. no one judging him.

his car, which mark bought after donghyuck , and so doesn’t have any memories tied to it.

(mark was so excited to learn to drive, so he could see donghyuck more easily. they could go places without needing a drive, or taking the indirect transit route between their houses. mark could go out with donghyuck, without asking for permission. mark could almost taste adulthood. freedom.)

(every time mark looks out the passenger window, he remembers the day he got his learner’s. he had driven his mom’s car around the empty church parking lot, trying not to get distracted by donghyuck’s happy voice next to him. donghyuck had teased him for driving like an old lady, all while smiling proudly at him. mark wanted to kiss him.

mark avoids looking out the passenger window.)

(his car comes with a new set of donghyuck related thoughts— false memories, imaginings, pieced together from his knowledge of donghyuck.)

he tells himself this — that he doesn't associate his car with donghyuck, that he doesn’t associate everything with donghyuck — until it starts to sound believable.

is that religion?

is it still religion, if you don’t really believe it?

hate is a strong word, one he’s not supposed to use, one he definitely never says out loud. but mark hates camp.

the normal camp part— playing games, swimming, singing during campfire— is fine. almost fun.

but anything enjoyable is overshadowed by Him.

He looms over mark’s life like a storm cloud, blocking out the sun. He’s everywhere: staff meetings. bible study. worship. the prayers before bed, and meals.

mark leads the band. the shorter service in the mornings is mostly fine. he plays the songs by muscle memory. without the music, he doesn’t think he could conjure up the lyrics, even if he wanted to.

but the further it gets into the day, the dread builds in his stomach. he can barely eat at dinner; luckily he can duck out early, pretending he needs to go over the song order.

evening service.

mark has to perform, then sit and perform in a different way. he follows the crowd; standing when they’re told, folding his hands, opening his bible to the correct book without even looking.

all he can hear is his mother, telling him to lead by example.  

but what kind of example is he?

he wonders if it’s worse to actually believe in this stuff, or to pretend that you do. 

he wonders if any of these kids are silently asking for forgiveness for kissing their best friends. the thought of it would make him cry, if he had any tears left.

it’s the speakers, though, that make him feel sick.

he refuses to react. he’s learned not to, after how many times he’s heard it. it doesn’t shock him anymore, the knowledge that these people all think there’s something wrong with him. that he deserves everything bad that happens to him.

he wonders if he’d even have this job, if the camp director knew what he was.

the hardest part is having to put the appropriate emotion on his face when he stands up again to sing after the sermon. he tries not to think about the things he just heard, to focus on the rhythm from the drummer behind him.

the worst of it all, though, is sitting in the lodge with the other staff, and listening to the way they talk. the way they think .

the topic of their discussion for the day is forgiveness. the word means nothing to mark anymore.

“i have a gay friend.” one of them says, and everyone goes quiet. “i like, tell him all the time, that God forgives him for his sins. as long as he chooses the righteous path, and listens to God, He will love him, even though he’s been corrupted.”

most of the other girls look impressed, like she just said she spent her spare time volunteering at an orphanage. the boys look slightly more concerned, like she might infect them with something, like the remnants of someone else’s sin linger around her.

mark’s stomach churns.

one of the senior counselors uses that to open a discussion about tolerance, letting them know that as disciples, it’s even more important to befriend those who live in sin, to introduce them to The Saviour. they should be kindest to those who need God’s forgiveness most.

they’re tasked with coming up with a person in their lives that needs grace and forgiveness, and praying for them.

the only person mark knows who isn’t good, obedient, is himself.

mark sits in silence, not wanting to look at any of them. he thinks if he opens his mouth, he’ll be sick.

then again, he’s sitting here with these people, pretending to be like them.

isn’t he the same? 

isn’t he worse?

—————

it’s only after donghyuck , that mark’s parents start encouraging him to date.

but dating means admitting you want someone, that you want to be touched. mark feels dirty. 

they know, the voice in his head hisses, they know what you are. they can tell. they’re trying to fix you.

he tries to ignore his mother’s nagging, about finding a nice girl to marry, but she gets more persistent over time.

maybe her friend’s daughter hope , the one from bible study?

mark fails to picture her face. he tries to be agreeable, but all he can manage is a maybe .

it’s ridiculous, because he hasn’t seen donghyuck in a painfully long time, but he still feels like dating anyone else is unfaithful.

it doesn’t matter what his parents do; they can’t stop mark from wanting donghyuck. the absence of donghyuck hasn’t removed the feelings mark has for him.

mark tells himself he doesn’t mind being alone. it’s mostly true. he’d rather be alone than with some girl his mother approved for him. he’d rather be alone, than with the only people he’s allowed to talk to. 

that’s all he can expect. not what he wants, but what is bearable.

mark’s mom shows him a picture of a pale girl with long, straight hair. she looks like a mannequin, or a doll.

“she’s pretty, isn’t she?”

pretty brings something to his mind that makes him feel dizzy with longing, then sick with guilt.

pretty belongs to golden skin, short wavy hair, and thirty one moles.

maybe he has new moles by now, ones mark doesn’t know about. he tries not to wonder.

his mother, for once, is not asking a rhetorical question; she looks at him, waiting for an answer.

mark shrugs, tilting his head ambiguously.

maybe she’ll get suspicious, that he can’t feign interest in any girls she shows him. but does it even matter anymore? what more could they take from him?

he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to call anyone else pretty. won’t he always just compare them to the prettiest person in the world? 

he’s never made it past a couple dates with any girl. he can’t blame them, really. he’s polite, does what’s expected of him, but he has no feelings towards them.

he’s afraid they see right through him. maybe it’s because they can tell , maybe it’s because they’re all girls his mom picked— the more dates he goes on, the more he realizes that his parents know nothing about him.

or maybe he’s just boring.

“i just don’t know who you are,” one of them had said, after telling him she couldn’t see them working. “do you?”

mark tries not to think about that. that nameless girl, shattering his entire life with one sentence.

who is he, outside of this?

he avoids dating, and his parents don’t question it. better purity, than a son with no self respect. 

mark would laugh, if he could even remember how. if there was room for anything inside him but guilt.

at this point, he’s given up asking for forgiveness. he knows he won’t receive it.

the older he gets, though, the more he hears about marriage. his parents tell him he needs a wife. kids.

a family.

mark doesn’t ask if he should be the one to decide what he needs. he already knows the answer.

he tries not to wonder what he’ll have to do for his parents to finally stop wanting more from him. 

he tries not to think about how much of his life is for his parents. can he even call it his anymore?

mark’s existence feels like a haze. 

he forgets his own name, sometimes. 

he’s usually just the pastor’s kid. or our son.

will mark ever be allowed to be anything other than their son?

did his parents ever call him mark? or was it only because of his friends that he had a name?

his father barely talks about him at all. he hears his mother talking on the phone with her friends, about her son .

the person she describes doesn’t sound familiar to mark.

my son.

it doesn’t feel like belonging. it feels like ownership.

sometime while being their son , he forgot how to be anything else. maybe he never really knew in the first place.

he may have gotten close, once.

maybe that’s what made donghyuck bad.

mark is in his second year when his parents get more insistent. if he doesn’t even have a girlfriend, how is he going to have a wife?

a wife. a marriage.

mark can’t picture it. he doesn’t want to picture it. he doesn’t see church pews, a pastor, a white dress.

the only thing he can see is a golden hand in his, a matching suit sleeve brushing his own.

traitorous desire hits him like a tidal wave.

he blocks the thought out.

marriage is between a man and a woman. mark lee does not want to get married.

mark has never really thought about marriage. never wanted to. he feels ridiculously young to get married, but it seems like every few weeks, his parents are mentioning another kid he knows from church, getting married right out of high school.

“they’re your age, and they’ve been together for three years!”

his mom sounds excited, but mark can hear her asking herself where they went so wrong with him.

he hears it, the silent why don’t you have that?  

he doesn’t mention that he’s already in love, that he’s been in love for four years.

he doesn’t say that he would’ve been with donghyuck for five years and two months this week, but instead it’s been 876 days since the last time mark saw him.

he didn’t even know.

they didn’t know it was the last time.

mark thinks about it too much, how he would’ve said goodbye.

all these hundreds of days later, he still doesn’t know how he would say it.

maybe donghyuck just isn’t someone he can say goodbye to.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.

isn’t he supposed to feel something?

his eyes crack open, lifting his head enough to see the people around him.

the band is deafeningly loud, familiar words in familiar melodies forced into his ears.

all the people around him has their hands raised. most have tears on their faces. some mumbling under their breath, some singing, some kneeling. 

touched by the holy spirit.

something is wrong with mark, because he doesn’t feel what everyone else is feeling.

he doesn’t feel divine love, or even anger. he doesn’t feel anything .

is there nothing there? 

the thought makes mark wish he could turn off his own brain, so he wouldn’t have to hear himself think anymore.

he’s trying . he’s at church more often than he’s anywhere else. he wants to feel it, to feel something .

but somehow, something broke in him. it’s real to everyone else, but not to him.

how long is he going to keep acting like it is?

it all hits him at once.

what am i doing here?

he’s in the lobby before he even realizes he’s moving. the door swings shut behind him, and he feels the cool evening air on his bare arms. the band is still audible, but muffled enough that mark can’t make out the words. 

mark sits down on the church steps, and rubs his face with his hands.

he needs a drink.

the thought almost makes him laugh. 

a drink? since when does he drink?

he hasn’t had a drink since—

dark hair brushing his forehead, 

a body against his, 

warm hands guiding him by the wrists,

golden skin under mark’s fingertips. 

pink lips curling into a smile when mark’s breath becomes uneven. 

“mark,” a low, sweet voice, a round nose bumping his cheek, “kiss me.” 

“god,” mark whispered, for the first time in his life. 

but it isn’t blasphemy. 

it’s prayer. 

“oh my god, hyuckie.” 

donghyuck laughed, lacing a hand in his hair, pulling him in again. 

mark opens his eyes, desperate to escape his own thoughts. it’s his most constant memory, his most painful. it was mark’s birthday, and they had got tipsy on a couple cans of beer donghyuck had somehow bought.

one of his last moments of freedom. of joy. 

mark wishes he could live in that memory, in the sound of donghyuck’s laughter, the feel of his skin.

instead, he’s sitting on a church step, thinking about the only thing he’s ever wanted badly enough to rebel.

it would be simpler, if he thought of donghyuck as the snake. as something evil. tempting him, drawing him into sinfulness, leading him astray.

that’s what he’s been taught to think. that’s what he should think. but he’s never been able to.

she may have been tempted, but eve still chose to stray.

like mark chose donghyuck.

so Eve was punished. she deserved to be punished.

is this penance?

Eve’s punishment was distance from God. 

so why is mark’s punishment distance from donghyuck?

donghyuck was the garden, not the snake.

it hits him like lightning, and mark wonders if he’s finally been struck down for his blasphemy. he doesn’t remember when that thought stopped scaring him.

donghyuck was good .

how had he started to convince himself donghyuck was evil, when donghyuck was the holiest presence he’s ever felt?

mark hates that a verse comes to his head, taunting him. he can’t get away from it , even in his own thoughts.

patient, kind.

always protects, trusts, hopes.

mark can’t remember exactly how long love has sounded like donghyuck . 

donghyuck was the one who loved him, not the one who judged him. he and donghyuck were safe, when they had each other.

maybe they weren’t the ones who were wrong after all.

mark breathes out heavily, but it does nothing to clear his thoughts. now that he’s opened pandora’s box, he can’t ignore the thing he'd kept locked away. his desire is so overwhelming, he’s not sure how he ever managed to hide it. 

it frightens him, but mark doesn’t mind it so much. it feels like something , at least.

he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

the phone that mark pays for. that his parents don’t know the password for.

how much has he lost, just to gain their trust? 

he stares at the contact for what feels like hours. he’d triple-checked that it transferred from his old phone, although he hasn’t dared to look at it since then. 

donghyuck has probably changed his number by now. maybe he hates mark. maybe he has a boyfriend. mark aches, aches, aches.

maybe he shouldn’t.

but he’s getting tired of what he should do.

what if he does something that feels right, instead of what he’s been told is right?

can it possibly be worse than how things are now?

if donghyuck hates him, the damage will be irreparable. mark might finally bleed out, but he might not mind. he’s not sure he’d want to recover from that. he doesn’t want this life anymore. if he’s going to suffer, he’d rather it be by donghyuck’s hand.

“mark?”

donghyuck. 

his voice is lower, but mark would recognize it anywhere. it takes mark back in time, then throws him into the future. mark hears his own shaky breath, feels tears on his cheeks.

he can’t remember the last time he cried.

donghyuck doesn’t even breathe. mark feels panic swell in him, trying to formulate words. 

he doesn’t know where to start. he just needs to hear donghyuck’s voice again.

“donghyuckie.”

a gasp through the phone. for the first time in ages, mark feels his own heart beating.

“mark? hyung, what the, fuck, it’s really–?”

donghyuck’s trembling voice finally breaks, like he can’t manage the end of the sentence. like if he says it out loud, his mind might realize it’s a dream, and pull him out of it.

“i’m sorry,” mark whispers, “i’m so sorry.”

mark hears a choked breath in response. donghyuck is upset, but he hasn’t hung up yet. mark clings to that hope, that tiny ray of sunlight. 

“duckie, i.” 

mark’s throat closes. so many words spin through his head, all equally true.

i miss you, want you, need you. love you.

he can’t say it, but donghyuck knows, like he always does.

“where are you?” donghyuck asks, somehow both unsure and determined.

“i’m, i’m at church ,” mark can hear the shame in his own voice, “i don’t– i want,”

rustling, and donghyuck’s uneven voice. 

“i’ll come to you, okay?”

mark chokes on relief, desperation freed from his throat.

“ yes . please.”

he doesn’t mean to beg. but what if donghyuck doesn’t understand? mark hasn’t done well at showing him how much he wants him.

donghyuck sounds steadier now.

“wait for me.”

the line beeps, and he’s gone.

he’s not going to come.

it had started to feel like mark would never see donghyuck again, that donghyuck would only exist in his memories.

still, mark sits on the church steps, and waits. he tries not to count down the time it takes to get from donghyuck’s house to the church.

inside, the band has stopped. the speaker must be praying, because mark can’t hear anything. it’s blissfully quiet, leaving mark alone with his thoughts. but rather than the storm from before, his mind feels clear.

even if he never sees donghyuck again, he got to hear his voice.

mark.

wait for me.

he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

a beat-up echo barely has time to stop before donghyuck throws himself out of the door.

donghyuck .

angelic, beautiful, real donghyuck.

his chocolate hair is in messy waves over his forehead, eyes widening when he sees mark.

everything moves in slow motion.

the earth tilts under their feet.

mark must be dreaming.

it’s the most vivid dream of his life, because he feels warm hands on his arms, then his face. 

suddenly, mark remembers how it feels to be in the presence of the divine. it’s been so long since he’s seen an angel that he forgets how to move, how to speak.

“mark,” donghyuck breathes, relief flooding his features. “oh my god, mark .”

mark feels warmth, sunlight, radiating off donghyuck like it always has. even as tears run down his face, he smiles at mark. he’s happy to see mark. he’s not angry. 

nothing in a church service could compare to this.

the only time mark can stand the concept of eternity is when he’s looking at donghyuck. he’d look at him forever, if he could.

he’s so close, but it’s never close enough. mark leans into him, resting their foreheads together.

donghyuck smells sweet, like those unisex perfumes he had to get in samples from sephora because his parents wouldn’t let him buy girl perfume .

mark never wants this dream to end.

donghyuck’s body feels so real when he engulfs mark in a hug. after a second of shock, mark wraps his arms around him, and donghyuck squeezes him even tighter. touching donghyuck, being touched by him, feels like second nature, even after years.

mark feels tears creep to his eyes as he buries his face in donghyuck’s hair. how can it have been years? how did mark ever go so long without him? 

they cling to each other for a minute, or ten, or twenty.

donghyuck pulls away just enough to look at mark, grip firm on mark’s arms.

his eyes are wet, eyelashes clinging to tears. mark’s eyes catch on the tiny mole under his eye. beside them, the sun is setting slowly, its golden glow caressing donghyuck’s skin.

mark is never letting him go again.

“let’s get out of here,” donghyuck whispers, to which mark nods. he’d forgotten where they are. 

he stands still, caught staring at donghyuck until he pulls mark towards the car.

donghyuck holds mark’s hand while he drives.

mark can’t stop staring at him.

he was scared that donghyuck would’ve changed, become unrecognizable, that they wouldn’t understand each other.

it’s ridiculous, in hindsight.

donghyuck is a little more angular, slightly taller, but still the same. same doe eyes, same sloped nose, same pink lips.

same pulse, in the same hand, laced with mark’s.

—————

mark is nineteen when he remembers how to breathe.

is this how it felt– the resurrection?

is this being born again?

donghyuck doesn’t drop his hand as he leads mark up a flight of stairs and into a tiny apartment. the door shuts behind them, and they both breathe.

“it’s just mine. we can– we don’t have to...” donghyuck bites his tongue. he glances at mark’s face, then away, both their ears burning.

he’s nervous, shy , but he doesn’t let go of mark. it’s a relief. mark is afraid that if they let go, he’ll wake up, or donghyuck will disappear, or some invisible force will come between them.

so he holds donghyuck’s hand, so tight that it’s probably a bit uncomfortable. donghyuck holds his just as tightly.

donghyuck is looking at him, in that way no one else ever has.

“mark,” mark’s never loved the sound of his name so much.

for the first time since mark’s known him, donghyuck looks like he doesn’t know what to say.

“hi?”

mark laughs. he can’t help it.

his own laughter sounds unfamiliar.

was it this simple, all along?

he called donghyuck, and donghyuck came?

donghyuck smiles at him, and that ever-present ache in mark’s chest melts away. mark doesn’t think he’ll survive another day without him. he hopes he never has to find out if he can. donghyuck pulls him closer by their joined hands, close enough that mark can feel the warmth from his body.

they’re almost the same height, but donghyuck has to tilt his face up slightly to look at him.

“hey, hyung?” donghyuck says quietly, searching for something in mark’s eyes.

mark tilts his head, hoping donghyuck can still read him, as he’s not sure he’s able to speak. 

donghyuck must find what he’s looking for.

“can i kiss you?”

mark’s stomach swoops like he’s in a free fall. he squeezes donghyuck’s hand, nodding quickly.

donghyuck’s arms wrap around his neck, and mark’s hands meet the dip of donghyuck’s waist like they were made to fit there.

a familiar glint is in donghyuck’s eyes, and his gaze falls to mark’s lips.

mark’s heart pounds almost painfully.

he only hesitates for a second before closing the distance between them.

their mouths slot together as easily as they always have, and donghyuck’s warmth seeps into every inch of mark’s body.

mark wonders if a pastor has ever glued those torn pieces of paper back together. if they’d noticed that the two pieces were still whole when pressed to each other.

that it wasn’t the glue that destroyed the pieces of paper, but the person who ripped them apart.

“mark,” donghyuck says again, with no real purpose.

“donghyuckie,” mark replies with a smile. he wonders if donghyuck missed saying mark’s name as much as he’s missed saying donghyuck’s.

he realizes how long it’s been since he’s said it out loud. he thinks his name so often, has so many memories of saying it, but he hasn’t heard it out loud in years. donghyuck had been added to the long list of things that were not to be mentioned, like a curse word or an insult. 

mark’s feelings are so big he’s not sure there are words for them.

donghyuck beats him to it, again.

“i’m still in love with you, you know.”

his cheeks are flushed, but he holds mark‘s gaze.

mark’s heart feels how he imagines the big bang felt; stars colliding, forming new galaxies, glowing bright enough to span millions of kilometres.

his fingers are woven in donghyuck’s hair as he rests their foreheads together. he closes his eyes, scared to be blinded by the light in his hands.

“ duckie ,” mark whispers, “i love you so much.”

he never stopped, not for a moment. 

donghyuck smiles against his mouth.

“you know i,” mark is nervous, nervous of looking at donghyuck, but even more afraid to look away. “i didn’t want to, to leave.”

donghyuck takes a deep breath, a faint smile on his face. there’s a pain in his eyes that mark is afraid he doesn’t have a right to ask about.

he squeezes mark’s hand with a small nod.

“even if,” donghyuck picks at his nails, eyes falling away from mark’s face. “if you had decided to leave. if you had wanted to go, then came back, i would still want you.”

the words feel like a punch in the gut.

mark reaches out to smooth donghyuck’s nervous hand flat, rescuing his poor fingers from any more abuse. it's the only thing he can manage to do.

“ donghyuckie,”

he can’t gather the words he needs, but donghyuck must see them on his face.

“i’d let you do anything to me, mark lee.”

he smiles when he says it, as if it doesn’t terrify him.

it terrifies mark.

donghyuck would dig his own heart out of his chest if mark asked him to.

he already has, before even being asked.

mark holds donghyuck’s face in his trembling hands, trying to keep his own tears from falling.

“i would never– i wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. you know that, right?”

donghyuck nods, doe eyes shining with so much affection that mark can't remember how to breathe. he wants to spend the rest of his life trying to deserve it, to give just as much back to donghyuck.

“i trust you,” donghyuck whispers, “i love you enough to let you break my heart.”

donghyuck’s words are scarily honest. mark feels the weight of trust, of love, of donghyuck’s heart being placed back in his hands.

mark knows he doesn’t deserve it. he doesn't understand how donghyuck can still trust him this much. but somehow, donghyuck seems relieved by it, and all mark wants is to not fail him again.

mark brushes his nose against donghyuck’s, breath shaky across donghyuck’s lips.

“i won’t,” mark promises, “i’ll take good care of it.”

donghyuck exhales a gentle laugh, tilting his head to bump mark’s nose again.

“you’re cute,” donghyuck tells him, leaning up to kiss the corner of mark’s mouth. “i like you so much.”

mark feels his own heart beating in donghyuck’s hands.

mark is staring, he knows he’s staring, but he can’t stop himself. he has nearly three years of donghyuck he’s missed out on. he wants to memorize every detail, take in everything familiar, and everything that’s changed.

he’d thought the changes would scare him.

but donghyuck is still donghyuck.

mark had tried to remind himself that donghyuck was changing even when mark couldn’t see it, that time was passing even though he couldn’t feel it, but it was hard to imagine anything but the kid he’d grown up with. the boy he’d promised to take to prom with him, even if they had to pretend to be just friends.

he was always beautiful, always perfect to mark. but now, mark is breathless just from looking at him. when they were younger, donghyuck was an angel; now, he might be a god.

mark’s faith, his faith in donghyuck , never wavered. the years of isolation have only made him more devout. 

donghyuck catches mark watching him; his eyes sparkle, a smile gracing his face.

“i love you,” mark says again, just to hear the words out loud. just so donghyuck can hear it again.

long eyelashes flutter, cheeks turning pink in response. donghyuck bites his lip, smiling widening despite his efforts. 

every second he looks at him, mark loves him even more. he hopes he never has to look away.

they’re sitting so close they’re almost on top of each other. donghyuck is smiling at mark like this is the best day of his life. mark’s heart is singing, because it’s definitely the best day of his.

donghyuck brings up an old inside joke, and his smile brightens when mark responds, obviously remembering it. then they’re talking easily, like it’s only been a week since mark saw him last.

mark remembers it, that last day. he’s dissected it endlessly, like that will take him back, give him more time. they always got annoyed at the end of summer, having to go back to seeing each other twice a week, if they were lucky.

donghyuck had clung to him all day, kissing him, complaining about having a whole five days until their next meeting.

i’ll miss you, donghyuck whined.

mark kissed him again, trying not to smile. i’ll see you on sunday though?

that’s too long, donghyuck huffed. and it’s not the same. aren’t you gonna miss me?

mark rolled his eyes, even though the thought of waiting five days did sound painful.

of course i’ll miss you, mark said truthfully.

i’ll miss you a lot.

mark swallows the lump in his throat, and tries not to cry. while donghyuck is still the only person he’s comfortable crying in front of, it seems odd to burst into tears when he was just laughing.

but donghyuck can tell, can still see through him, and he’s leaning over, pressing a kiss next to mark’s eye.

he pulls back, and mark sees tears swimming in his eyes, too.

“i missed you,” mark whispers, “i missed you a lot.”

donghyuck smiles shakily, stroking mark’s cheek.

“god, i missed you so much.” 

mark smiles back. when was the last time he heard a real person take the lord's name in vain?

as always, irreverence sounds good in donghyuck’s mouth. rather than panic, mark is simply in awe. 

mark lets his head fall to donghyuck’s shoulder. 

“can’t believe you’re real,” he whispers. “been dreaming about this forever.”

he squeezes donghyuck’s hands, checking that they’re still warm, real.

“me too.”

mark aches with joy.

donghyuck ends up laying on mark’s chest, pressing close, like he hopes they’ll melt together. mark doesn’t think he’d mind that, if it meant he’d never have to miss donghyuck again.

donghyuck is nervous, and mark doesn’t understand why. he stumbles over his words, trying to formulate his question properly.

“do you want to be– i mean, are we, like..?” his voice is barely a whisper. mark holds his breath, anticipating the word they’ve never dared to mention before.

“dating?” donghyuck whispers, hands fidgeting until mark holds them.

“aren’t we already?” mark asks honestly.

donghyuck’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, starting to nod and then freezing.

“you’re not, with,” he trails off, not even wanting to say it.

it takes mark a few seconds to understand what he’s asking.

“i– i’m in love with you ,” mark reminds him, incredulous. “why would– how could i date someone else?” he asks quietly, “i’ve only ever wanted you.”

“ hyung ,” donghyuck practically whines, unable to bear it. he hides his burning face in mark’s shoulder, breathing deeply to pull himself together. mark smiles to himself, thumb stroking donghyuck’s hand. when donghyuck looks up again, his eyes are soft, less nervous than before.

“i’ve never– with anyone else. i never wanted to. i couldn’t . i’ve always been yours.”

mark thinks he might cry with relief.

not that he would want donghyuck less if he had dated someone else. but it’s comforting, that donghyuck felt, feels, the same as he does.

mark kisses him then, deeper than before, needing donghyuck to feel the emotions that he can’t put into words.

donghyuck makes a soft sound when he feels mark’s tongue against his, threading his fingers in mark’s hair, holding him even closer.

he’s hungry for mark, always wanting more, just like mark wants from him.

they pull back regretfully when they start to lose air. donghyuck feels more necessary than air.

“be my boyfriend,” mark asks suddenly. the words burst out of him like he’s been holding them back for hours, or years.

it’s not like it would change how they feel, but mark needs it to be spoken. he wants to call donghyuck his boyfriend, even to people other than him.

donghyuck kisses him again.

yes yes yes.

of course, always.  

it feels like fingers linking, thumbs pressing together, sealing a promise.

but this one doesn’t have to be a secret.

even the things that are scary to say feel safe with donghyuck. mark’s always trusted him, with everything .

“i don’t think god is real,” mark whispers, still a little afraid. for once, he’s not thinking about what to say, how to say it. he just wants donghyuck to know.

weight lifts off him immediately.

somehow, the words are much less scary than the initial thought had been. maybe it will finally stop haunting him now that it’s been acknowledged.

donghyuck doesn’t look surprised. he smiles. 

“okay,” he answers, voice steady. “me neither.” 

mark can’t seem to say anything else. he’d almost forgotten that there were people who wouldn’t be angry at him for this.

“mark,” donghyuck’s voice softens, brushing his hand against mark’s. he waits, to see if mark will take it.

mark slides his fingers between donghyuck’s, feeling the warmth of their palms pressing together. reminding himself that donghyuck is here, really here, not just as a memory.

god isn’t real, but donghyuck is.

god wouldn’t forgive him. but donghyuck was never angry in the first place.

god didn’t love him. donghyuck does.

donghyuck squeezes his hand, something like a smile on his face. he doesn’t need to say anything.

donghyuck doesn’t need to speak for mark to feel it, more than he ever has from anyone, human or otherwise.

donghyuck loves him. and almost as importantly, donghyuck likes him.

mark had almost forgotten how it felt. 

maybe mark can understand the people in tears, arms raised to the heavens.

he understands the need to worship.

he understands being loved.

there’s no space between them, and mark likes it that way. sadly, it’s impossible to be both kissing donghyuck and listening to him talk, so mark has to switch between the two.

somehow it's always been natural, for their conversations to shift between theology and laughing about nothing, for mark to hit donghyuck as they laugh, and then have donghyuck kiss him.

mark’s not sure how long it is before they talk about something normal. school.

he tells donghyuck he’s in economics, and donghyuck makes a face.

“seriously? why? ”

mark shrugs. he feels indifferent about it, like everything else in his life. it felt wrong, to enjoy school. to enjoy anything.

“i was.. supposed to?” he cringes a little as he says it. the words sound hollow.

“i thought you liked writing though?” donghyuck asks, more gently.

“oh, yeah.” mark says. was that what he had wanted to do? “i did, before. i… forgot.” 

that answer earns him a sad look.

“what’re you studying? did you decide already?”

donghyuck’s face lights up, talking about his plans. he’s always had big dreams, and mark always thought he’d really make it. he’s just the type of person who’s meant to have an audience. mark’s chest feels full with pride.

“i’m sorry i took so long.” 

donghyuck shakes his head with a small smile. “i knew you’d come back.”

mark loves him so much it almost hurts. donghyuck had faith in mark, too.

“what happened?” a whisper, allowing mark to pretend he hadn’t heard it.

mark shivers.

“my parents almost found out, i think. they were– going through my phone.”

donghyuck’s eyes go wide with fear.

“i couldn’t do anything , they would’ve–”

he takes a breath, willing the tears out of his eyes. he recounts the conversations with his parents, minus their insults towards donghyuck, like they had just happened. he’s thought about them too much. his parents probably barely remember them. donghyuck’s face gets dark, holding one of mark’s hands in both of his.

“my parents just told me we were switching churches. they wouldn’t even tell me why .” he bites his lip, eyes getting glassy. “they just said i couldn’t talk to you anymore. i didn’t want to get you in trouble. or more trouble.”

mark kisses his hand, trying to convey how sorry he is.

“i stopped going after that. i never really, wanted to. i only went,”

mark nods, understanding.

i only went to see you.

“i really don’t know how you lasted this long,” donghyuck sounds sad, and a little impressed.

now that he thinks about it, mark doesn’t know either. mark hides his shame in donghyuck’s shoulder, voice muffled.

“it sounds crazy, but i don’t. remember? it’s like i wasn’t there.”

donghyuck’s arms tighten around him, and mark feels himself relax. his voice gets even quieter, and he feels his eyes burning. he hasn’t cried this much since they were first separated.

“it was horrible, without you.” he’s never admitted it to anyone, how miserable he is. no one's ever been safe to tell. they would’ve asked too many questions. “i missed you so much. every day.”

it’s been so many days since then. mark felt every one, drawn out torturously.

donghyuck takes a shaky breath, pressing kisses into mark’s hair.

“i missed you too. so fucking much.”

the words aren’t anywhere close to strong enough, but they’ll have to do.

“i’m sorry.” mark whispers.

donghyuck doesn’t say it’s okay, because it’s not. 

he says something even worse.

“it’s not your fault.”

mark pulls back to stare at donghyuck, confused. 

“ what? ”

a confused donghyuck looks back at him, parroting his own question back to him.

“but, it’s– i..?”

donghyuck’s eyes widen, then narrow like he wants to slap somebody.

mark must tense up, because donghyuck rubs soothing circles into his hands, eyes softening. making sure mark knows he’s not angry with him.

“mark,” donghyuck whispers, “you think i blamed you?”

mark can’t look at him, and that’s enough of an answer. his head is spinning. how could donghyuck not blame him?

“i was– weak, i didn’t do anything, i should’ve–”

no matter what he says, it’s not a good enough reason, mark thinks. there isn’t any reason good enough to separate them.

“ mark .” donghyuck sounds close to tears, and mark hates himself for it.

“i’m sorry,” he repeats, ashamed. “i didn’t know what to do. i was so– scared. i’m still scared.”

donghyuck takes a few breaths, then tilts his face up gently. when mark meets his eyes, he doesn't find any blame.

“you were a kid.”

mark bites the inside of his lip, trying not to cry.

“you were just a kid. we both were.” donghyuck insists, eyes glossy. “it was fucked up, all of it. but it was them. not you.”

he waits until mark nods, then hugs him again.

“you had no idea what they would’ve done.” the fear in donghyuck’s voice is obvious. mark knows he’s picturing the worst case scenario. he wants to say they wouldn’t do that, but he doesn’t know what they would’ve done. why else would he hide so much?

“i never blamed you, mark. i promise.”

mark’s tears finally spill over, but they’re tears of relief, not sadness.

they hold each other for what feels like ages, and mark wishes they could stay like this forever.

mark’s phone rings, and he remembers that other people exist. time hadn’t paused for everyone else, just because he was with donghyuck again.

“it’s my mom.” mark’s voice gets tense, and donghyuck looks anxious for the first time since they’ve been together.

“i can..?” donghyuck looks reluctant as he tilts his head towards the door.

mark’s grip on his hand tightens. “stay?”

donghyuck’s eyes soften, “of course.”

mark takes a deep breath, and answers the phone. he winces, sure his mom's almost-yelling is loud enough for donghyuck to hear.

“hi, mom.”

that’s all you have to say for yourself after you disappear for five hours?! pastor said you left suddenly, why didn’t you answer my texts! i thought you were dead!

mark blinks, shocked that it’s been that long. now that he looks out the window, he realizes the moon is bright in the dark sky.

“i’m sorry, eomma. i didn’t.. feel well. i needed to clear my head.”

how long does it take to clear your head? do you think i’m stupid?! mark lee, are you with a girl!?

his mother’s voice gets increasingly shrill, and mark must wince, because donghyuck strokes mark’s arm with his free hand.

“no, eomma, i’m.” mark’s thumb brushes the back of donghyuck’s hand, feeling a sudden wave of calm. “i’m with a friend. i’m okay.”

his mother huffs, muttering something under her breath.

it’s late. you’re coming home soon?

it’s phrased like a question, but mark knows it isn’t one.

he hesitates, and his mother inhales sharply.

fine. sleep on the street if you want. we’ll see you at church.

she hangs up before mark can say anything else. mark lets his phone drop onto the cushion.

he hadn’t even noticed it unravelling, but now he feels the knot of guilt in his stomach tighten again. he knows she doesn’t mean it, knows she actually cares, but her words cut him right where he’s the most sensitive.

mark shivers, suddenly cold.

donghyuck’s hand comes to his face, and he makes a sad sound when mark starts crying. mark hiccups into his shoulder, choking on air. donghyuck rubs his back, pressing his lips to mark’s hair.

“you don’t have to do anything. not for her, and not for me. do what you want.”

the idea takes a minute to sink in. mark realizes he doesn’t know how to do that. all he does is what he should do, what his parents want him to do.

his skin itches thinking of walking into church in the morning, shirt buttoned up, smiling like he wants to be there. the weight of the lies, or at least the non-truths, is crushing.

“i don’t wanna go back,” he whispers, afraid of his own words but unable to hold them back. he was never able to hide from donghyuck. “i can’t , i can’t go back there. i can’t do it anymore.”

they both breathe, slowly, together.

“okay,” donghyuck replies, like it’s that simple. “whatever you want.”

the words sound bizarre, and mark makes a confused noise. whatever he wants?

“really?”

donghyuck chokes on tears, squeezing mark tighter, like it’ll fix everything, put mark back together. mark thinks it could.

“ yes , really.” donghyuck’s voice cracks, and mark registers that he’s crying. his voice is muffled in mark’s neck. “just stay, don’t go back. i want you to stay.”

mark's heart squeezes with want. for the first time in years, he lets himself want something. he takes a deep breath, letting donghyuck’s rambling soothe him.

“it doesn’t have to be, like... anything, just, you’re my best friend. i want you to be safe.” donghyuck sounds a bit desperate, just how mark feels. terrified by the thought of being apart again.

“you can stay here, if you want. i–” he stops himself, wanting mark to make the decision without being influenced.

if it was anyone else, mark wouldn’t know if he could believe them. mark would feel like an inconvenience. but he trusts donghyuck, and donghyuck wants him.

“ donghyuckie .” mark whispers. he presses his face into donghyuck’s sternum, arms wrapped around his waist “i love you.”

donghyuck relaxes under him.

“of course i want to stay with you,” the words tumble out before mark can stop them. “i always wanted– i’d never leave again, if you’d let me.”

donghyuck sniffles, and pulls him into a kiss. mark’s already lost count of how many that is. the thought makes him giddy.

“stay then, stay forever.” donghyuck whispers, smiling when he feels mark nodding. “i love you. stay.”

it feels simple. everything with donghyuck feels easy. comfortable.

they check with each other about ten times, whether they’re both okay with mark sleeping over. donghyuck offers, carefully, to sleep on the couch. or, even more carefully, for mark to share the bed with him.

mark’s eyes go wide, and they both double-check that they want to, even though their desire is written all over their faces. 

donghyuck hands him a pair of sweatpants that mark recognizes as his own, and his heart feels so full his ribcage aches from trying to contain it.

they lie in bed facing each other, with the bedroom door open.

mark’s eyes widen when he hears floorboards creaking, but donghyuck just sleepily reminds him it’s the neighbour.

it takes a long time for them to close their eyes. they don’t want to stop talking, stop looking .

mark falls asleep with donghyuck’s hand in his, and for once in his life, he feels completely safe.

it all feels simple, with donghyuck.

but not with his parents.

donghyuck had walked him the two blocks to the bus stop, telling mark he was just making sure he wouldn’t get lost . mark’s face was sore from smiling, and his hands were warm.

when mark stepped onto the bus, he thought he saw a flash of anxiety in donghyuck’s eyes.

he’d texted donghyuck during the bus ride back to his house. his parents’ house.

it was a relief to have some concrete proof that donghyuck was real, that mark hadn’t just awoken from the most vivid hallucination of all time. mark kept staring at the conversation, even when they weren’t adding anything to it, waves of joy rolling over him.

he gathers his bravery from the encouraging text donghyuck sends him after mark says he’d arrived. otherwise, he’s not sure he’d ever be able to face them.

his feet grow heavier on the walk from his stop to the house.

his parents’ car is in the driveway. he's already tense as he unlocks the door.

his mother smacks him on the arm, for missing church for the first time in his life, and for not coming home last night.

(mark doesn’t tell her that he slept next to donghyuck, fell asleep listening to his breathing, just like when they were kids. he’s been keeping secrets long enough to know some things shouldn’t be said.)

(he doesn’t tell her that he was home.)

she doesn’t hit him hard enough to hurt. not physically. 

for once in his life, he doesn’t ask, but tells them what he’s going to do. they’re either too shocked to argue, or they’ve already decided he’s not worth the trouble.

there are unshed tears, when mark says that he’s found a roommate, and he’s moving out. there’s judgemental silence, sharp voices, when he admits who it is. he wasn’t really planning on telling them, but he’s so tired of lying that when they ask, he doesn’t avoid it. 

mark would almost prefer them screaming; then he could justify feeling so hurt. mark has never seen his parents this emotional. he’s not sure if they’re really scared of losing him, or the person he’d managed to convince them he was.

he’s not sure they know , but he’s sure they still don’t want him to see donghyuck.

mark doesn’t agree with their definition of bad.

it bothers mark, but not as much as it used to. they don’t like donghyuck, but it doesn’t change anything. there’s nothing they can do anymore to keep them apart.

he doesn’t have much he actually wants . aside from his school bag, he throws all his necessities into a box. he realizes how few of his shirts aren’t covered in logos from church events, and ends up leaving most of his wardrobe behind. he then looks around his room, trying to find anything worth keeping. none of it feels like his. stupid trinkets, books of devotionals, pictures from camp; he stares at his own face, trying to recognize him.

it’s like he’s awoken from a years-long dream. he doesn’t want to bring these memories with him. he wants to make new ones.

but the memories he’s allowed to have out in the open aren’t the only ones he has. there have to be a few good memories hidden here, somewhere.

he finds one, buried in a drawer. an old picture of the two of them, from the summer their families went to tofino together. they’re at the beach, in long sleeves to avoid the sun, arms draped over each other's shoulders. donghyuck’s hair is curled from the salt water. mark can almost hear their laughter through the picture.

they’re fourteen, but they look younger than mark remembered.

too young to be worrying about going to hell.

he refolds the picture along its creased lines, and puts it in his pocket.

it only takes him one trip down the stairs. his parents don’t say a word. they don’t even look at him.

the door closes behind him, and he doesn’t look back to see if his parents are watching. 

mark gets into his car and drives home.

donghyuck is waiting for him, standing on the curb in front of the parking spot he’s saving for mark. his eyes light up when he sees mark’s car, and mark is smiling before he can think about it.

donghyuck hugs him, kisses his cheek, and helps him carry his stuff up to the apartment.

mark puts the box down just inside the door, and lets donghyuck drag him back to the tiny sofa they’d spent most of last night on.

“is this how it feels? to disobey them?”

he’s never done it before. at least not that they’ve been aware of.

“how is it?” donghyuck asks quietly, matching mark’s volume.

“weird.” mark stares at their joined hands. he never wants to let go, never wants to be so far away that he can’t feel donghyuck’s hand in his.

“bad?” donghyuck asks, trying not to sound nervous.

mark shakes his head. “i thought it would feel worse than this. they were mad.” donghyuck frowns. “but it was real. that felt good.”

donghyuck scoots against his side, nuzzling his face into mark’s shoulder.

“i’m happy you’re here.”

it sounds like, i love you.

it sounds like, please stay.

it sounds dangerously close to something mark can’t remember hearing before: i’m proud of you.  

mark's heart feels lighter than it has in his entire life.

mark is twenty when he realizes heaven is not only for christians, or dead people. 

every day he wakes up next to his best friend, his partner in crime, his boyfriend. his donghyuck. 

isn’t that heaven?

the place you spend your life longing to return to?

the chance to be close to, to worship your saviour?

this must be it: eternal life. unconditional love.

if mark was a christian, he might be a good one. 

he’s not unlike christians, but he has a different devotion.

he could survive forty days in the desert to get here.

he could withstand anything, for a chance to stay in the garden.