Archive of Our Own

As a child, Yuta couldn’t fall asleep not because he was afraid of the dark. It was rather because he was afraid of the fall.

The eerie feeling of seeping into the flip side of consciousness, the uncertainty of it was terrifying, even though not at the time, nor later Yuta could fully put it into words.

At a younger age, he’d slip into his mother’s bed at night, inevitably waking her up by flailing his ice cold limbs, unable to stop the tossing even for a second. Yuta didn’t want to disturb her anymore. So on the worst of nights, he would prop himself up on a windowsill and watch the street lights until his vision got wobbly. His hope was to one day see the moment the lights finally turn off, and the sun lights up instead. But he has never once caught it.

As a teenager, there came a night when Yuta found himself caged in a crumpled dorm room in a country still so alien, and the felling of free falling returned. Yuta had only ever let it get to him at night, and all the bottled up emotions would just burst, – the overarching want to go home, the temptation to quit. Yuta taught himself to snap out of it: he just had to imagine the disappointment in his father’s eyes if he were to come back. In the end of the day, most of the things Yuta has endured in life was for the sake of his pride. 

At what must be the peak of his life, a frenzied cycle of practicing to exhaustion, performing, and partying, with a promising solo career just around the corner, the chic and kitsch of it all, – Yuta has more sleepless nights than ever.

Because for all his overthinking, Yuta seems incapable to think ahead.

It’s a learned behavior, – a defense mechanism, really, – in an industry so turbulent one can never be sure of their tomorrow. Yuta has never been sure: not before their debut, nor in the years after, working tooth and nail for the vague prospect of fame. Yuta likes to call it living day by day without worrying too much about the future, embracing the rollercoaster that is his life as if it were an adventure without an ending point. Youth and fame alike don’t last, and neither stands reasonability.

The problem that comes with it, however, is being unable to pinpoint what has gotten Yuta to any particular moment, place and time. It’s like the game of blind man's buff where the chaser is spun in circles with their eyes closed to lose track of the surroundings. It’s like walking in the forest at night and losing footing.

Yuta still doesn’t know how to talk about it. But he knows it gets worse when they’re traveling.

It’s the middle of night in a cold city in America, and Yuta can’t sleep. 

He’s driven himself almost nauseous with his thoughts, and he turns on his phone again in frustration. He’s going to focus on the real things which can bring at least some sense of certainty. The lockscreen says it’s 3:11, – so the time still keeps going, that’s great news. Yuta pushes aside the irritating thoughts of how little time there is until the alarm rings.

Yuta realises he doesn’t even remember what city they’re in, and he has to look at the schedule in his calendar. Atlanta, he reads. That doesn’t give him much insight, but the name itself is pretty.

Yuta closes his eyes and recites NCT songs in order of their setlist. That isn’t particularly calming, but there’s stability in it. He counts One Piece characters in his head, all the flavors of Shin ramyun. That’s better. He lists the members in age order. As he gets to the bottom of the list, against all odds, it gets worse.

Yuta thought he’s too exhausted for that particular train of though, but his mind generously supplies ideas on something, someone, that he would rather not think at all about at this time. It’s the kind of problem that he has been ignoring for too long, because there’s just too much to process. It starts, as it always have, with the underlying desire to protect , to praise, to smother with affection.

Then, there’s also the realisation: my boy has grown up so well. He got used to turning heads wherever he goes, but underneath the confident stance is still the adorable dork with a heart two sizes too big. The kind of heart that breaks easiest.

Which brings Yuta to the next thought: he would never, ever in his life want to hurt Mark Lee. He knows his fears and anxieties well enough to not let it happen, but it’s Mark’s own actions that are out of his control. And those are, well…

For all the years Yuta has been pestering Mark with love, Mark looks set on returning it tenfold. Mark seeks Yuta’s touches at all times. Mark sneaks glances at him across the room and looks with an expression so earnest that it scares Yuta how one can be so open with another. Mark wants to kiss h–

Yuta groans, checks his phone again, – it’s 3:59. For thirty seconds or so, Yuta waits for 4 AM to strike. It is now officially morning. Maybe it’s time to give up on sleep.

* * *

The sun is high in a cold city in America, and their van is especially loud. Everyone seems psyched to be in a new place and keep arguing over sightseeing plans and food they want to try. Taeyong pesters Johnny with ridiculous questions about the US, eyes wide at his bullshit answers, and Mark’s laugh is especially high-pitched and scandalised at their antics.

Yuta is in energy-saving mode after an exhausting night. He stares blankly at the landscape outside consisting equal parts of glass and asphalt, but the group’s excitement is slowly rubbing off on him.

He only half-listens to their content producer briefing them on today’s filming for Youtube. It’s not like there is a script anyway, the content is practically a day-off field trip where their main objective is to appear like they’re having fun. Which isn’t going to be a problem, Yuta guesses.

“You will be going on the ferris wheel in pairs, plus one crew member,” she says. They only have four cameramen for their self-filmed music video. 

“Film each other sing the whole song a couple times, and also get close-ups. Acting cute, boyfriend shots, stuff like that”.

Yuta looks to the side and sees Mark grinning at him from his seat across the aisle. The producer doesn’t even have to mention it. It’s already obvious that Mark and Yuta are going together.

Some minutes later, they stop by the sidewalk, and Yuta is the first to jump out of the van. He breathes in full lungs of wind, soaks up the sun like a sponge.

Immediately, urgent hands clutch the back of his coat.

“Are you ready?” Mark says.

“Born ready,” Yuta answers.

“Let’s go then.” 

His cold nose bumps into Yuta’s neck as Mark tugs him away from the car, not paying any mind to the members’ banter as the equipment is getting set up. He doesn’t stop when the producer calls out their names.

Yuta looks at Mark, who smiles at him so wide, so open. Yuta gets it.

They start running at the same exact moment, further and further away from the van with their arms over each other’s shoulders, and Yuta’s lungs burn with laughter. For almost a full minute it’s just the two of them with a whole city spread out under the soles of their feet.

* * *

This is how they end up on the ferris wheel together, in a corny set-up of a coming of age romcom. Yuta finds it amusing, so he plays it up with his usual innuendos. What he doesn’t expect is for Mark to be on a different level entirely.

“Do you like me?” Mark says, looking at the camera, – and coincidentally, right into Yuta’s eyes.

“I like you.” It’s easy to say it.

“Hyung, you have to move the camera!” 

Oh shit, he does.

“I’ll go again. Do you like me?” Mark isn’t even smiling this time, all his attention on the camera lens. He must take his acting very seriously.

Yuta manages to nod the camera this time, and Mark’s resolve breaks immediately. He can’t stop giggling for a whole minute. Yuta catches himself thinking that he really shouldn’t be filming now. He doesn’t like the thought of having to share this Mark with the world, a million people watching. He wants to keep him to himself.

They film some more, both Yuta’s over the top acting and Mark’s fangirling getting progressively more ridiculous. When the ferris wheel comes to the highest point, Yuta opts for a break to take a thousand pictures of the skyline view.

“Woah, it really is high.” Mark says, a little hushed.

“Look at that building, it’s just as high,” Yuta points in excitement, going to the other side of the cabin. It wobbles slightly. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Hyung,” Mark says. “Please sit down.”

Yuta turns to look at him, suddenly all serious and small on the bench.

“Awww, baby is scared of heights?” Yuta coos, and Mark looks away. “It’s okay, we’re going down now.”

Yuta sits down beside him, puts a hand over his shoulder, while Mark keeps eyeing the floor stubbornly.

“Oppa will protect you,” he says as a mean of comfort, but if anything, Mark looks even more tense. “Just focus on me, don’t look out there.”

Yuta pats down his shoulder, mindlessly drags his fingers up and down Mark’s neck. When he touches the shell of his ear, Mark flinches. His eyes dart briefly to the opposite bench where the cameraman is seated. 

Yuta thinks bitterly again how even that the moment feels private, they barely ever have real privacy, always at risk of revealing too much. Not like Yuta hasn’t stopped caring ages ago, – he now registers cameras as mere shadows in the corner of the eye, obsessive yet unintrusive. He knows that no matter how he acts, the editors will pick out the bits that mold his idol personality, a polished and hollow version of him that Yuta doesn’t give a shit about at this point, for he doesn’t associate it with the real him. He has spent a lot of time over the years attempting to instill this mentality in the younger and more camera-anxious members, so he doesn’t at all feel good when Mark still gets like this.

“I said don’t look.”

“I’m not scared.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“You’re really not making it better,” Mark is still avoiding eye contact.

“Making what?” 

“Like– you know– thoughts,” Mark stutters. 

Yuta knows that’s really what they have in common, – the overthinking. But Mark doesn’t elaborate.

“You’re really confusing me right now, not going to lie.” 

Mark sighs and makes a move to pull away.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you,” Yuta grasps him tighter. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” Mark sighs again. “But this time I think I’m confusing myself too.”

Yuta finally manages to catch Mark’s eye, and tries to give him a reassuring look, which honestly isn’t his forte, but he still hopes to get the point across:

“Then come back to me when you figure it out. Or better, if you need help figuring it out. Okay?”

To his dismay, Mark does move away this time. 

“Sorry,” he says.

* * *

Fortunately, Mark’s sour mood doesn’t last long at all, which is not uncommon of him – one of the good sides of his at times concerning optimism. And consequently, Yuta’s mood is brightened as well.

They reunite with Taeyong and Johnny for the aquarium visit, which turns out to be more fun than Yuta expected, especially with Taeyoung acting like a hyperactive child pointing out every fish in unadulterated joy. It feels healing to finally have a group hangout on a day off, something all of them craved during months of practicing for the tour.

Yuta is set on not overthinking anything this once.

* * *

Some six hours later, when Yuta is finally dozing off in his hotel bed with Chainsaw Man playing in the background on his laptop, he looks at his phone and suddenly doesn’t know what to think. 

오빠

hyung

yuta hyung

yuta oppaaaa what are you doing

answer me i know you’re in your room

yutaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Yuta smiles at Mark’s messages growing in desperation over time.

What is it?

He gets a response immediately.

오빠

yuta!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I asked you what are you DOING

Nothing

Laying in bed

Watching chainsaw man

In response Mark sends a sticker of some big-eyed cartoon character with its mouth agape, – which looks exactly like Mark’s own surprised face.

오빠

can i come ????

Aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with jungwoo now

yea

Mark sends a picture of Jungwoo fast asleep on his hotel bed, string of drool at the corner of his mouth, fingers still clenching an empty bottle of soju. Which explains a lot of things.

Perfect blackmail material

Good job Mark Lee

kkkkkkkkk

i’m bored now

i’m coming over

Yuta was so dead-set on being patient with Mark that he didn’t even consider Mark’s need for space to be over this soon. Six hours of space sounds about right for where their relationship is at now. Syrupy warmth spreads in Yuta’s chest without warning. Maybe it’s the night fast approaching that gets his resolve to wobble, like a reminder of his late night thoughts, securely locked away during the day. Because right now, a prospect of having one drunk Mark Lee in his bed is more than welcome.

Right at that moment, banging on the door brings him to his senses.

Mark is expectedly behind it, grinning up at Yuta.

“Someone’s drunk, huh?” Yuta grins back.

“I’m not at all drunk. Jungwoo kept sulking that we hung out without him that time, but I’m not getting a hangover on the day of the concert again, thank you very much.”

Looking at him now, Mark really doesn’t look that drunk, maybe slightly tipsy. But Yuta doesn’t want to relent yet.

“You smell like soju, Mark-yah. Wanna talk about your drinking problem?” Mark laughs in disbelief. “It’s Johnny’s influence, isn’t it? I have to deal with him now, take him down when he expects it least.”

“Hyung, what–” Mark pinches his eyebrows together. “I am a grown adult.”

“You are an infant,” Yuta says. “And one obsessed with me too, running straight to oppa’s room in the middle of the night because you missed me so much?”

Mark groans.

“You know what, forget I ever came, you’ll never see me again”, he turns around, attempting to leave. Pretending to.

Yuta catches him by the hood.

“You’re staying right here.” He yanks him back. “I’m not letting you roam around drunk, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you”.

“Yuta!” Mark sounds properly annoyed this time, and Yuta knows not to push further. Feeling utterly pleased with himself, he pulls Mark flush to his chest and into the room, and they’re finally, finally alone.

* * *

Their precious private time is spent huddled in the middle of Yuta’s bed. It’s a learned routine, – talking in small voices, sitting close just to feel each other’s warmth. They try watching Chainsaw Man, but Mark seems to have wiped the previous episodes from memory and keeps asking for context, driving Yuta insane, and he probably hates the gorey parts (although he would never admit it in front of Yuta). They listen to an album Mark is obsessing over recently. They pick photos for each other’s instagrams. Mark struggles to explain Yuta memes in English, laughing loud and frustrated. Just the usual Mark and Yuta things, so awfully comforting Yuta gets sentimental all of a sudden.

Mark is laying on his shoulder, dozing off, when Yuta asks:

“So did you figure it out yet?”

He doesn’t specify, but Mark seems to understand.

“Do we have to talk about it now?”

“It’s your choice, but it’s important to talk about your thoughts. I don’t want you to distance yourself, you know.”

Mark cuddles closer.

“Me too,” he says.

“So… want to think about it together?”

“Not with you,” Mark blurts, and Yuta tries not to be offended at that, but… he’s totally offended, what the fuck actually.

“‘M sorry, it’s not like that,” Mark says into Yuta’s shoulder, sensing his tension. “It’s just– It’s just if I concentrate on the thoughts, I can’t focus of spending time with you, okay, and I’d rather do that than dwell on some shit that– only exists in my head, or something.”

“What is it in your head?” Yuta pushes gently.

“You know… stuff. I just worry too much sometimes, hyung. Like there’s you in my thoughts, but there’s also you in real life, and then I get confused between them and it’s… it’s…” Mark claws at the sheets, frustrated at his own stammering. “I don’t know. Can we drop it now, I just really want to hang out with you, like, all the time, when will we get to spend time like this again?”

Mark trails off in a desperate whisper. It’s one of those times when the reality crashes into their tediously constructed bubble of normalcy. The insanity of their lives where every step, every word and every relationship that is meant to be private is monitored. Where to indulge the worshipping, they have to maintain an image of unattainable perfection, – push aside their personal lives, practice in the studio until every muscle throbs with pain. Where in three weeks, their schedules will bring Mark and Yuta to the opposite sides of the globe so they won’t see each other for months.

“Oh, Mark,” Yuta says, and pulls him in. At Mark’s quiet sigh, he holds tighter, almost fully engulfing him. “We have so much time.”

Mark only chuckles.

“Nice to know I’m in your head,” Yuta tries for it to sound lighthearted.

“Hyuuung! ” Mark pushes at his chest. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he falls back on the bed, and the tops of his ears are red.

“It’s good that you said it. Better than thinking it over and over until you’re trapped in your thoughts.”

Mark hums, picking at a thread in the pillow.

“I mean, I’m bad at it myself, you know.”

Yuta inhales, and he wants to be able to open up, after seeing Mark so vulnerable and trusting before him, but where does he even start with that, with the gnawing feeling of falling so deep in his chest it has almost become a part of him.

He imagines it again: walking in a forest at night, except he keeps losing his footing, like he’s being detached from the soil. 

“Mark,” he croaks. “Do you ever think about whether it’s all real?”

He can see many questions swim in Mark’s eyes, but what he says is, 

“I do.”

“It doesn’t feel real to me sometimes. Like, how did I get here, – I mean, I’m so grateful for this life, we all wanted it so much, but sometimes… How do I even know what I want? And is this what I want, or what this past version of me wanted, the me who didn’t know anything, anything. So how does it make sense for someone like me to–”

Yuta inhales deeply, – he didn’t breathe once while talking.

Silence envelops them, but Mark’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“I feel the same, sometimes,” it sounds like Mark is telling a huge secret. “But you’re real, Yuta.” As if to prove his point, he reaches a hand and squeezes Yuta’s knee. “So you’re the one who got yourself here.”

Yuta thinks.

It’s not like it all falls into place at that, but Mark’s words somehow make Yuta hyperaware of his presence in the moment in some zen-bullshit way. None of it makes sense, Yuta thinks. But I’m here now, so it’s real. And for now, it’s enough.

It’s more than enough, actually, because before Yuta is a boy looking up with the biggest eyes in the world, someone who wants to be close to him enough to let go of all the worries and what ifs Yuta knows all to well. Yuta has done enough thinking for a lifetime. Maybe it’s time to act.

“Mark,” he says, and smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

Mark’s fingers freeze from where they were tracing shapes on Yuta’s knee.

“I– don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Oh? Didn’t you ask to kiss me just a couple days ago?”

Mark looks like he got caught red-handed.

“That was before… Before,” he turns his head into the pillow. His ears are so, so red. But once Yuta has set his mind on something, he just can’t stop.

“It’s only fair that I return the favor, hmm?”

There’s another long silence in response. 

“Okay,” Mark gets up on his elbows, nods a little to himself. “You can kiss me once.”

Yuta raises his eyebrows.

“Once, to– to return the favor.”

“Of course, Markie,” Yuta says, perked up, already reaching towards him. “If you say so.”

Yuta helps Mark up on his knees, and without warning, shoves his face into Mark’s space, getting them as close as possible.

Yuta exhales practically onto Mark’s lips. He’s not the one to waste a chance, so if it’s just one kiss, Yuta is going to make the most of it. He brings a hand to Mark’s hair. Mark stays still, and fazed, but not particularly shy, for the way his eyes zero in on Yuta’s lips.

“Okay?” says Yuta, and tilts his head. 

Mark nods and places his hands on Yuta’s shoulders.

Yuta brings their lips together right away. He tilts Mark’s head further to the side, and brushes his tongue gingerly over his bottom lip. He sucks it in a couple times, then licks into his mouth without warning. Mark makes the sweetest surprised noise, and Yuta never wants to stop. He kisses him until Mark finally gets himself out of a daze and starts kissing back weakly. At that moment, Yuta knows to pull away.

“Good?” Yuta asks after a solid ten seconds of Mark just staring at his lips.

Mark’s eyes dart up. His grip on Yuta’s shoulders goes impossibly tight.

“One more?” Mark says.

“Just one,” Yuta grins into his mouth.

* * *

Some fifteen minutes later, Yuta is lying with his back on the bed, Mark on top of him, licking into his mouth with unseen hunger. Yuta’s head is spinning like a carousel, partially because of the oxygen shortage, partially because his heart is about to give in.

While going into cardiac arrest at 27 wasn’t exactly in his plans, at this moment it doesn’t seem like a bad way to go. Mark is insatiable, nipping at Yuta’s lips, sucking on his tongue over and over. His hands constantly move from Yuta’s hair to his shoulders to his waist, and he whines high in his throat when Yuta gropes his ass or tugs at his hair. Yuta notes how Mark’s body moves atop him in circular motions, and his pace is steady, and he barely takes breaks to breathe. Maybe that’s his way of making it one kiss, Yuta thinks endearingly.

Yuta can’t stop himself from smiling. He turns his face to the side, but Mark keeps pressing kisses to his cheekbone, temple, forehead, jaw. Yuta smiles wider.

“Hey, hey,” Yuta says with a rasp as he moves Mark’s head up and away so he can look at him. “There you are.”

Mark is breathing really hard. His mouth is moist with spit down to his chin, and his hair looks wild, spiking in a hundred directions. The endorphin rush coursing through Yuta’s body becomes too much to bear, and he starts giggling uncontrollably. 

And upon seeing Mark’s confused expression, he starts full on laughing. Mark smiles back, but the laughter just does not stop, and Yuta is going lightheaded when Mark presses a palm to his mouth.

Yuta forcibly breathes in through his nose. He pushes his own hand to Mark’s lips to make them even. They stare each other down for some time.

Yuta wipes Mark’s wet mouth, and Mark mirrors the motion. Yuta then pats down the spiky blue strands of Mark’s hair so he stops looking like Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. 

“I was scared for you for a second there, man,” Mark says groggily. He pushes Yuta’s hair from his face, unknowingly copying his actions.

“Don’t worry about me,” Yuta boops his nose. “Was that good?”

“‘T was decent,” Mark says, shy all of a sudden.

“Just decent?” Yuta grins wickedly. “Hyung, more, please– ”

Mark groans, and headbutts Yuta full force in the forehead. Except he didn’t really think this through, and they both groan in pain.

“Your mental abilities surprise me daily,” Yuta hisses. 

“Shut up, hyung, you talk too much,” Mark says, rubbing Yuta’s forehead to make sure he isn’t hurt.

“Let go of me, freak,” Yuta isn’t really mad, but he’s positively squished by Mark’s weight.

“No,” Mark cries out, and squeezes Yuta even tighter. “You’re not going anywhere, why do you always have to go. ”

“You’re too heavy,” with all his remaining force, Yuta manages to turn them around, so he’s on top of Mark.

“You’re heavier,” Mark breathes out. He says it with such contentment it’s clear that he doesn’t mind it one bit.

Yuta feels it again, – the presence. It’s mind-blowing how grounding it can feel to just be, tucked away, with another heart beating alongside his. Yuta lets the reality around him mold into firmness, he lets himself be cradled. Yuta lets go. For some indefinite amount of time, he almost sleeps.

“I have to go piss,” Yuta says eventually. Mark blinks his eyes open, looks at Yuta until his eyes regain focus.

“It was really good, hyung,” Mark slurs, quiet and sincere.

“I think so to,” Yuta nods. “You’re really, really good. I didn’t know our Markie’s a player, hmm?”

Mark’s expression quickly morphs into annoyance.

“Here I am being honest like you asked me to, but the only thing you do all night is tease me for no fucking reason!”

Yuta tries not to laugh at Mark’s ridiculous pouting.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, really. You’re just so easy to tease, but I’ll stop it, I promise,” Yuta kisses his shoulder in retaliation. “You never really talked about your experience with girls, so I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Yeah,” Mark says it like there’s something to add, but it never comes.

“You’re incredible,” Yuta says. Mark shivers.

* * *

When Yuta emerges from the bathroom some minutes later, Mark is fully awake, sitting up in bed. His gaze is unfocused, and he’s turning his phone in his fingers mindlessly. Yuta doesn’t know what to make of it.

“You down to finish that episode?” Yuta stretches his arms over his head, feels the pleasant sting in his muscles.

Mark only hums. Yuta thinks absently how cozy Mark looks in his bed, burrito wrapped in Yuta’s blankets.

“You still here?” Yuta sits with his knees on the bed, waits for Mark to finally look at him. “Baby. You look like a zombie. Are you sleeping with your eyes open?”

Mark smiles a little. “Am thinking,” he says.

“A mile a minute, I can tell,” Yuta can’t stand it when Mark reminds him of himself. “It’s too late for that, go wash up.”

Yuta touches Mark’s cheek briefly, then tugs at his wrist. Mark grabs his hand instead.

“It’s different when it’s on tour.” He’s staring at him like he’s desperately trying to convey something that Yuta doesn’t quite catch.

“It is, I suppose.”

Mark just keeps staring like he’s sending telepathic waves from his invisible alien antennaes. Yuta sighs.

“So you’re thinking about when it’s gonna be over?”

Mark opens his mouth, then closes.

“That will get you absolutely nowhere, and I’m talking from experience,” Yuta says earnestly. “I told you already, living day by day, remember. So it’s over when it’s over.”

When Yuta talks with enough significance to his voice, he hopes it makes more sense. It’s a common topic between the two of them, dealing with the uncertainty of the future.

“It’s over when it’s over,” Mark repeats melancholically. He’s gazing right through Yuta.

Yuta feels sad and a little helpless at how the two of them are fighting their own internal battles which cannot be fully grasped nor expressed. How they’re unable to help each other, but just staying close together seems to ease the pain. 

“I’ll try to figure it out,” Mark says. “I’ll try my best, hyung.”

“What do you want right now?” Yuta asks. Mark considers it for a moment.

“Change,” he gives himself a once-over. “Shower.”

“Perfect, see. All doable. Up!”

Yuta yanks him by both hands, pulling Mark out from the bed like a carrot from the ground.

“I didn’t say I wanna get up,” he whines.

“Go, go,” Yuta motions towards the bathroom.

“My pajamas are in my room,” Mark pouts tragically.

Yuta sits back on the bed.

“You want to stay here?”

“Can I?”

Of course, Yuta wants to say, but there’s apprehension rising in his chest completely uninvited.

“Like, to sleep?”

“Yes?”

What kind of question even was that, Yuta thinks. He starts dragging his hands over the sheets, smoothing out the creases. 

“It’s okay, I don’t have to stay over,” Mark says quietly. He steps closer to Yuta, searches his face.

“No, no! Of course you can stay.” Yuta extends his hands for Mark to take.

“I just have to warn you, uhm. I don’t sleep that well. And I toss a lot.”

“Oh,” Mark takes his hands. “That’s fine.”

“It’s what I’ve been told, ha. I also sleeptalk apparently.”

“That’s okay.”

“And when I can’t fall asleep, I’d sometimes walk around the room or go piss like five times during the night. Just a heads-up, you know, if I wake you up.”

“Yuta, I don’t care.” Mark squeezes their hands as tight as possible. “Just please hold me when you get back.”