Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s the end of summer, and Mark is taking his time.

That’s what he tells himself while he gets used to life outside of school. It’s not a bad one, by any means. When the overbearing academic obligations are no longer something to weigh on his mind, the tediousness of working at his uncle’s shop becomes a sure thing that he’s thankful for, instead of displeased by. It’s what gets him some freedom along with the age he turns, and a sudden realization, too, that he has so much time—something he’d never noticed he lacked before. His days feel almost never-ending, even though the weeks go by weirdly fast, and he never catches the holidays coming. Hyeongchungil , he makes a face at Renjun, that’s this weekend?

He and Renjun enjoy this new phase in life appropriately. When they hangout, skirting around town like kids, the streets are always empty, and they get to lift their chins and feel high-and-mighty, everyone is trapped within four walls, slaving away, everyone but us . But Mark is still a homebody, so it’s often that he has to be dragged from his bed so they can enjoy a late afternoon together. This can be either with rhythmic knocks on his window, which Renjun knows he can get away with as long as Mark’s mom’s car isn’t in the driveway and, therefore, won’t get him a scolding session, or with continuous beeps coming from Mark’s pager, which are enough to create an itch in Mark’s brain and make him answer quickly.

Some days, though, the heat makes it so neither are enough; taps and beeps can be easily ignored, with Mark barely giving a glance in their direction. It’s always too bothersome to go out or to get up and hang off the kitchen door with the telephone between his ear and shoulder when the room is the stuffiest in the house, and Mark’s room, with his two fans and Zelda on the TV screen, always feels like the better option. Renjun usually has to break in and get an uncooperative Mark up from his disheveled sheets, force him into a shirt, and load his hands with cans of soda and icy cold water. Mark usually has to drag his feet to his front door and watch Renjun ride his bike in circles in his yard, yapping about whatever excites him that week.

Once, while Mark takes his old bike from its place against the fence and fills its basket with their supplies, the sun burning the top of his head, he first hears about Renjun’s new friend. Renjun screams about him over the wind that deafens them while they pedal, and Mark tries to pay attention while making a face at the rusty chain he has to work hard to make turn; Renjun simply glides along the street, making patterns along the empty road and loud comments.

To Mark’s understanding, that’s where they’re heading: Na Jaemin’s territory, which isn’t far, but also not in their own neighborhood. Mark knows this much about him: he rides skateboards, parties on Wednesdays, and brags about how much liquor he can steal from his shitty grocery store job. He’s charming, the life of the party, and ultimately, Renjun’s favorite person these days. When they arrive at the scene, Mark stares at him with squinting eyes.

With their backs to the park benches, he and Renjun spread out on the hard concrete floor, lazily watching guys take over the town’s skate ramps. Na Jaemin is bending his knees and gaining speed with his board, laughing exaggeratedly when he gets on a ramp and his trick goes wrong. One of his friends runs past and pats his back, laughing along. Mark watches and pours most of his water bottle down his neck, begging for the contrast in temperature to feel good for a second, even if he knows his cheekbones and bridge of his nose will still burn unforgivingly. He never got the plastic off the sunscreen his mother bought him, he thinks.

“—it’s just that I know he can be a little intimidating. Isn’t he? Like, his entire thing.” Renjun gestures and makes a face, or maybe he’s just squinting because of the sun.

Mark rests his elbows on his bent knees, frowning, “I mean… I don’t know. If anything, it’s the hair.” Renjun laughs through his nose.

Jaemin notices them fairly quickly, running over with a blinding smile and his yellow-bleached hair flopping around. He pats Renjun’s back warmly, hi, wow, and I didn’t know you guys came here! Mark holds back a smile as he watches Renjun come up with a creative lie, then cut it in time to introduce Mark properly. Jaemin nods at him while wiping the sweat from his face, and Mark attempts a good handshake, the kind he knew Jaemin would try on him. Their hands are sweaty, but it’s fine.

Amidst the small talk, Jaemin asks Mark if he wants to take a spin on his skateboard, or if he’s scared of shredding like Renjun is. He’s cheeky, smiling with an easy warmth, and Mark has to politely decline.

Truth is, Mark is decent at a lot of stuff. He makes mixtapes, and he plays the guitar, and he’s gotten pretty good at fixing his Walkman when it dies on him. He volunteers at the community center and gets better at his job every day, just like he’s been good at lying in bed reading and waiting for reruns of his favorite cartoons. He fills his interminable days with tons of small, silly hobbies that he loves to engage in, but some things he hasn’t and will never try—like trying to fit in with the guys at public parks. School life traps you and preps you with some unspoken rules, and when Mark watches kids he thinks could’ve picked on him in school group up and take over a part of town, he doesn’t bother coming closer or, god forbid, trying to play it cool. He prefers to accept that he’ll never truly fit in with people that detached, that hip, and he feels like that makes it easier to get through.

Renjun, while he might’ve agreed with Mark in the past, has always been brighter. Shier, sure, but that’s never stopped him, and the end of school has been treating him well in that regard: he’s more open, curious. His friendship with Jaemin was born from that newly-found receptiveness, and Mark knows he’d like it if Mark followed in his footsteps, if they could all hit it off. Mark is not partial to it.

He takes a sip from his Coke and makes a face at the staleness, watching as Renjun makes more promises— we’ll try it next time, yeah! Jaemin’s friends seem to take a break from the ramps, too, all waddling over in search of something cooling. Mark analyzes them, tsking when he’s too much of an asshole in his own head.

When he covers his face from the sun, scared it will do to his brain what it did to his drink, someone turns his action useless by standing close and creating a shadow. Mark lowers his hand and looks up.

“I’ll take it from you if you don’t want it.” One of Jaemin’s friends is standing next to him, pointing with his chin at Mark’s Coke. Mark scrunches up his face with a little smile,

“You don’t want it either.” He says back, but his hand gives away the can willingly.

But he must have, because he quickly crouches down and throws his head back, downing the entire thing. His arms, with that funny shirtsleeve tan you get on a good hike, tell Mark a big part of what he should know. Are these guys just out all day? , he wonders. What a commitment.

He doesn’t look very satisfied after squeezing the can, saying eugh under his breath, and Mark holds back a smile. Quickly Jaemin is by the guy’s side, patting his back and introducing him to Renjun: you know Donghyuck, right? You’ve met? The younger one, yes —and that’s terrible to Donghyuck’s ears, he makes a face and says that’s not true, that he’s older than Jaemin, even.

“By, like, a month and something!” and Donghyuck shakes his head, murmuring that it’s actually two months, which makes Mark want to smile when they quickly make eye contact. It’s quick to end, too, but Mark notices Donghyuck turns to him often, like he’s about to say something he never lets out. Mark pretends not to notice, because being scrutinized by a guy like him doesn’t feel very good.

Whatever , Jaemin says, because he didn’t mean it like that, it’s more because of your overall behavior, really; he points at Mark and Renjun, you guys will know what I mean soon .

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, throwing the can on the ground a little carelessly and telling them his break is over. But the group’s conversation doesn’t end even as Donghyuck retrieves his skateboard and runs back to the ramps, even as Mark pays attention only to a thing or two. They get to know each other while Mark watches Donghyuck go back and forth, tapping his fingers, thinking about what would have been different had he been born a town over.

When the subject dies, they don’t leave unscathed: Jaemin’s last words before getting up are about something next Friday no one can miss; everyone will be there, and it’d be awesome if Renjun came along. You too, Mark!, he adds, smiley.

Mark gives him a tight-lipped smile back, and after that day, things slowly start to change.

They get fussy before leaving for that first party: Mark stares at himself in Renjun’s living room mirror scrutinizingly, tilting his mouth deceptively even if Renjun’s mother walks by him three times full of compliments, cooing and pinching his cheeks.

He thinks: this gel won’t hold up in the heat for long, I should’ve thought of this beforehand. Then he thinks he should let his hair be, mess it up and leave it wild and messy. He could seem laid-back—or really unkempt. Mark frowns.

In truth, he has only falsely accepted his fate: not caring about what people think of you is easier said than done. Renjun is, right now, trying on a second pair of sneakers, telling Mark the other one hurts his feet when, in reality, he’s just clearly self-conscious. Shoes are such a giveaway, he shakes his head.

“This is ridiculous.” Mark murmurs.

“We are.” Renjun answers instantly, and Mark kind of nods.

Some days in advance, Renjun tried to ask Mark what he thought of Jaemin and the others. It was casual, but also an interrogation. Mark did it all: played it off, shrugged a little, furrowed his eyebrows just enough, and tried hard not to let his voice go any higher. They’re cool, man. I liked them, yeah —which isn’t a lie, but also not the whole story. It’s just a little difficult to explain the truth, which is that they make him feel like he’s fifteen again, insecure and nervous.

It’s such an embarrassing thought to have that Mark pulls a face, ashamed to be so immature at this age, but ultimately unable to lie to himself. It’s a straight jab, watching someone like Jaemin be wholly himself without putting in any effort; it’s even worse to be this competitive, to think that now he has to be up against him, against his other friends, because Mark knows himself, and he knows he ranks low in comparison. He knows what others think of him, too: that he’s nice, but sometimes too nice, and that he could be fun to have around for an hour or two, by which point he gets a little too boring, a little too plain. It won’t take them long to think the same, and maybe Renjun will agree soon enough.

Renjun stared at him with suspecting eyes then, making Mark avert his own. He didn’t voice out his thoughts, and Renjun didn’t ask, but it was clear Renjun knew the truth. Mark has a hard time keeping his flaws to himself. And even though this isn’t Mark’s idea of a good Friday night, even though he thinks his self-esteem will hit the ground in two hours time, he did decide that he could put in the effort today, even if just for Renjun’s sake.

It’s a mindset that he keeps as they make their way to the spot—a parking lot, wide and empty if not for the few people arriving, and Mark feels glad for the open air, for the low music coming from the car radios, for the sparse crowd; it’s not the huge ordeal he thought it’d be. Their voices fade out without any walls around to bounce off, and the dry night air helps a little with the heat resurfacing from the ground, turning it into a pleasant atmosphere. It’s comfortable enough, and Mark stays by Renjun’s side and people-watches.

They make an interesting group of people. They’re mostly boys, though maybe Mark should call them men—apart from the guys they’ve already met, many are college-aged, shoulders broader and confidence better established. Mark feels as awkward as he thought he would, but they do take pity on him and include him suddenly, asking him questions, letting him talk. Jaemin is good at making this happen, and Mark tries not to shy away, even if he’s still a little wary of him. It’s not bad, but it’s still Friday, and Mark is still often an early sleeper, so he gets himself alone and comfortable in the interior of someone else’s car after an hour or two of chit-chatting. He passively listens to the ballads the radio plays at such a late hour and the echoed sound of laughter. Renjun still checks on him, and Mark tells him he’s fine through a yawn.

He’s almost dozing off by the time someone interrupts him noisily.

Mark blinks open his eyes and looks up, watching one of the guys they met that first day, Donghyuck, settle back on the passenger seat and rest his head on the headrest, sighing like he’s unwinding. He turns his head to look at Mark like he’s just noticed he’s there, nodding nonchalantly. Mark mimics him, averting his eyes in the same breath. He stares ahead—at the empty parking spaces, at the few trees surrounding the place, at the velocimeter or the small letters being cycled out on the radio display to spell out the name of the song playing—letting his fingers fidget with the material of his jeans while he fights off the awkward feeling he got the moment Donghyuck got in. He probably thought it was funny that Mark was asleep at a party. The doors are open and the wind travels through, but Mark feels a little cornered.

“Can I mess with that?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark notices his head is pointing to the radio, “The station?”

Mark nods, “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” Donghyuck takes it as a pass to lean closer and fiddle with the button as he pleases, turning the pleasant melody from before into changing static. Mark eyes him, thinking that maybe his leather jacket is too heavy for such a weather, “What do you like?”

Mark stares at him, “Oh. Anything. I don’t mind.”

“You like all kinds of music?”

Mark nods, “I can get into pretty much anything.”

Donghyuck hums, “Okay. Can I go for something upbeat?” He inquires, “It’s gonna wake you up, though.”

The corners of Donghyuck’s lips are upturned, and Mark laughs through his nose, a little embarrassed. He scratches his nape, “Well, I’m awake now.”

“I killed your vibe, huh?” Donghyuck says while still smiling, shaking his head and crossing his arms like Mark, “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want to bother you; just wanted to rest my legs.”

“No,” Mark lies, “I was being boring, it’s fine. I should wake up.”

“You should.” Donghyuck relaxes against the seat, “I like being entertained.”

Mark stares, a little perplexed, then shakes his head. Donghyuck should probably look for help with that outside, where his friends are still cackling loudly.

But as it is, he’s still inside, bopping his head calmly, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Oh. Well,” Mark furrows his brow, “Like what?”

“Anything.” Donghyuck tells him, “Tell me something funny.”

Mark averts his eyes and turns to face his window, a little wide-eyed. Why would such a challenge be imposed on him at this hour? He’s not really known for being a funny person, or for impressing others. He quickly realizes he doesn’t know any jokes or anecdotes, so he decides to tell him whatever comes to mind.

“Well,” He frowns, “I work at this place—they’ve been open for the last 25 years, and they’ve had this tradition of betting on the lottery since the first. Every employee pitches in and bets on a different number, so sometimes it’s more than one game, but even then, in the last 25 years, we’ve never matched even one of the drawn numbers.” Mark laughs through his nose, “It was my first time pitching in, and we just saw the drawing today. Nothing. It’s amazing. I guess that was something that made me laugh today.”

Donghyuck presses his lips together and smiles, “Wow.”

“Maybe it’s just bad luck.” Mark bites his lip and fiddles with his cuticles, “But—the bad luck of a century.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck looks up like he’s thinking, “Well, haven’t you thought that maybe they’re lying to you?”

Mark blinks, “The—older employees? Why would they?”

Donghyuck widens his eyes, “To keep the money all to themselves. They might as well be millionaires by now.”

Mark makes a face, “Oh, they’re really not. I wish, though. Most of them are family, so that would be good for me.”

“Then maybe they would tell you, but in secret.” Donghyuck nods, “You should get ready. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

Mark thinks, “I think you have to pay the taxes first.” He nods to himself, “And there’s a lot, ‘cause it’s a lot of money, so.”

Donghyuck laughs through his nose and looks down at his lap, nodding, “That’s true.”

“And then, I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well, I should be first on the list of priorities.”

Mark scrunches up his face. He barely knows Donghyuck, “Why?”

“‘Cause you told me. Now you’re cooked! If you don’t shut me up with a couple grand I’ll have to tell everyone. The entire town will be knocking on your door like crazy.”

“That’s mean.” Mark laughs, “Thank God I’m poor, then.”

At least Donghyuck is the one leading the conversation, and at least he is, by himself, already entertaining. This could’ve gone way more awkwardly, Mark thinks.

“You mean to tell me this car isn’t yours?” Donghyuck squints.

Mark tsks, “Obviously not. Look at it—” He looks around them, “Some of these guys are really rich.”

“Jaemin has a very big heart.” Donghyuck says with a tilt of irony, “He befriends everyone.”

Mark nods, “That’s nice.”

“Sure.” Donghyuck smiles, and to Mark he does seem genuine, which is a little baffling, “Well, do you even have a license to be sitting there?”

“I do, actually.” Mark says proudly, “My brother taught me, and then it took me a while to pass the test—but still.”

“Cool.” Donghyuck nods like he doesn’t care to hear much about it, “Would you drive me somewhere?”

Mark turns to look at him, blinking. He's not exactly a skilled driver, and things get even trickier when he's behind the wheel of a car he's unfamiliar with. If he had seen this coming, he'd definitely have worn his best shoes for driving, “Oh. For real, or—”

“For real.” Donghyuck smiles from where his head is cushioned. He points to the crowd outside, “This sucks, and I need to have an actual cold drink.”

“I see. This—feels wrong, though. An owner of a car like this would never let me drive it.” Mark laughs at himself.

“Gyunho-ssi is chill. Crash it and his dad will buy him a new one. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs, “Start the car before the battery runs out on us.”

Mark furrows his brow. It’s not like Donghyuck is giving him an out, but maybe this is exactly what Mark was talking about earlier when he promised himself he’d put in the effort. Maybe he could just try not to be such a bummer, and then maybe it would at least be something that he and Renjun could laugh about later, “Well, put on your seatbelt, I guess.”

Donghyuck doesn’t put on his seatbelt, and Mark pretends not to care about it the entire ride, busy figuring out how to deal with an accelerator this sensitive. The sudden slams on the brakes don’t bother Donghyuck, who fills in the time by messing with the stuff in the glove compartment like the car is his. Mark side-eyes him while adjusting the rear-view mirror, watching Donghyuck’s curious eyes frown at whatever it is he finds and murmur how insufferable the car’s owner is. In between rambles, he tells Mark to stop at a gas station.

“I’ve heard his scholarship was revoked because he’s such an asshole.” Donghyuck murmurs, picking out chips while Mark stares at the refrigerators with a frown. Is it a good idea to have an energy drink at this hour? , he thinks, I definitely need it , “Jaemin told me I’m too dumb for believing in any gossip I hear, but wouldn’t you?”

Mark makes a face, thinking a simple coke won’t really cut it, “I’m often told I’m slow, so.”

He hears Donghyuck laugh, “Oh, no.”

“It’s kind of true.”

“Is that what the energy drink is for?” Donghyuck turns to him, and now he’s hugging two bags of chips close to his body, “Also, can you get me a pack of cigarettes? I’ll go wait outside unsuspiciously.”

Mark sighs, watching Donghyuck place the chips on the counter and leave just as Mark asks him how old he is. It’s just like Mark to get himself into something like this.

“I got the cheapest.” Mark tells him when he leaves the store and hands Donghyuck the pack. Donghyuck, who’s sitting on the curb and staring at the cars that drive past, takes it and smiles, “I hope it’s… alright.”

“It’s fine, actually.” Donghyuck stares at the brand name and laughs while lighting one up, “I’ve had worse.”

Mark sits by his side on the sidewalk and watches the smoke encapsulate them both. He picks at his cuticles, distantly thinking that this looks a little dangerous—there are gasoline vapors, Mark has seen it in the news, it could—. He sighs, and Donghyuck must catch on, because he smiles and asks if Mark is okay. Yeah , Mark nods unceremoniously, because it’s nothing, really. Donghyuck seems to look him up and down—or scrutinize him again, Mark doesn’t know, before asking:

“What was your name again?”

“Mark Lee.” Mark points out with the smallest of head bows, and it makes Donghyuck smile and bow back.

“Lee Donghyuck.” Mark knows, but he nods like he didn’t, “That’s fun. A foreign boy.”

Mark shakes his head, “I’ve been here long enough.”

“Yeah, you talk like it.” He rests his head on his hand, “Any crazy tales from the other side of the world?”

Mark smiles, “I was a kid.”

“Still.” Donghyuck insists, “It’s a crazy time in life.”

It was anything but. Though the memories feel valuable like anything one lives through does, his years in North America were unremarkable. It’s something people frequently prod at, curious because it sounds like something out of a movie, but Mark never has satisfying answers. It was what it was. If he had to mention something, then maybe that would be how he and his brother still lived together, how they had fun back then, how Mark feels like he became who he is during those days; the joy, and the fights, and the scoldings.

Apart from how he misses those days, it didn’t feel any worse than moving to a different city. He just wasn’t particularly attached; not to Toronto, and not to Vancouver, and not to New York. He left like he went on a trip.

“Well, maybe that I never told anyone I’d move. If they even remember me, then there’s a group of people who just have no idea where I went.” He looks up and thinks, “It’s kind of fun to think about. I wonder what theories my friends came up with.”

“A disappearance.” Donghyuck nods to himself, “If it were me, I would’ve thought the worst. And then I’d create a story and make the entire school believe it, too.” He turns to Mark, “Hopefully none of your friends were like me.”

Mark smiles, “I wouldn’t mind. It’d be more entertaining than the reality.”

“Why?” Donghyuck smiles back, “This is entertaining.”

Donghyuck is kind, “I doubt you think that.”

“I do!” He complains, “Maybe it’s just that you don’t. Did you even want to go out today?” He squints, “Because it seems like you didn’t.”

Mark laughs and averts his eyes when Donghyuck takes another drag and maintains eye contact, “It’s not like that.”

Donghyuck tilts his head, smiling a little, “What, are you too good to hang out with us?”

Mark makes a face, “No,” He adjusts his posture, “It’s not personal. At all.” He lies, “I just like to stay home most days. I’m not a very interesting person, I guess.”

“Yeah? What’s so good about staying home, though?”

“I just like it there.” Mark smiles, “I—... yeah.”

Donghyuck chuckles suddenly, and Mark looks up at the sound, “Cute.” Donghyuck whispers. Mark averts his eyes again and plays with his fingers, unsure if he’s being condescended to, “And you still came.”

“Renjun is very persuasive.”

“Renjun…” Donghyuck purses his lips like he’s thinking.

“My friend.” Mark tells him, “You met at the park.”

Donghyuck gestures to his own forehead, “The one with the choppy bangs?”

Mark laughs, “Yes, but don’t tell him that.”

“I might.” Donghyuck smiles, “I’m a very honest person.” Mark believes that, “It’s why I have to tell you something important.”

Mark frowns, “Me?”

“Hm.” Donghyuck agrees, “We’ve met before, did you know that?”

Mark feels a little taken aback; it seems like the kind of thing he’d remember, “We have? When?”

“Well, you’re part of the congregation, aren’t you?”

Mark blinks, curious, “I used to volunteer.” Then he frowns, “Wait, we met in church?”

Donghyuck laughs, scrunching up his face like he’s pretending to be offended, “Yeah. Is it that hard to believe?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mark laughs through his nose, “Really. I’m just surprised.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry I don’t remember. I used to take my tasks very seriously, so I must have been busy.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles at Mark, “You were very helpful, anyway.”

“Oh.” Mark feels his face warm up. He wishes he knew how this went, but he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask—maybe it was something personal, because it sounds like it was, just like it sounds like Donghyuck just wanted to thank him for it, instead of bringing up the past, “I’m glad. I’m sorry again—my memory is usually good.”

Donghyuck shrugs, “It’s fine.” He scuffs his shoes against the pavement, “It’s just that it was nice to see you again.”

Mark nods and scratches his nape, sheepish. He doesn’t really know what to say in response, given that Donghyuck is referring to a memory Mark doesn’t have access to. It’s still a nice thing to hear, because Mark only ever wanted to help, “It’s—nice that you think so.”

Donghyuck smiles, “Well, and if you don’t remember anything about me, then I guess you can still ask me. We have all night, right?”

“I guess. But, uh, don’t you wanna go back?” Mark points to the car, frowning. It’d make sense that Donghyuck would want to go back to his friends after getting better drinks, enough snacks and cigarettes.

But Donghyuck lifts one shoulder, “Do you?”

Mark doesn’t have an answer either, so they stay. Mark doesn’t really ask as many questions as Donghyuck is apparently willing to answer, but Donghyuck gives away the information anyway: he lives two streets away, is an inch shorter than Mark, and doesn’t know what Mark means when he talks about his video games. He really is outside all day long, except when his siblings get home and he has to tend to them, and doesn’t really know if he wants to go to college, at least just yet. He likes a crowd, satisfied when he makes Mark laugh. Sometimes, he seems high-strung and mellow at the same time, like he’ll turn quiet the second you look away. It turns out they have enough in common, and that Donghyuck doesn’t make Mark feel inferior when they’re talking like this, even if Mark notices him sneakily trying to get one up on him sometimes—maybe so Mark won’t think he’s childish like the others do. But Mark doesn’t think that. Leather jacket and nagging aside, Donghyuck is nice. When Mark talks, Donghyuck listens. It’s fun to talk to him, more so than Mark expected.

“I’ve decided you were wrong,” Donghyuck told him as he got up, “You have a lot to say, and I’m entertained.”

Mark laughed, “I guess you just don’t know me.”

He watched Donghyuck stare down at his own feet, seemingly thinking before speaking up again, “Well, you don’t know me well either.” And Mark nodded, “But… would you like to?” Donghyuck commented offhandedly, but with a little smile, sneaking a glance at Mark and chuckling at his expression.

Mark stared at him, biting the skin off his own lips, “Know you, you mean?” Mark raised his eyebrows.

Donghyuck nodded.

Mark made a face, smiling even though he was a little confused, “I mean, I guess we’ll get to know each other either way now, with Jaemin and Renjun being friends.”

“Sure. But I meant that we could hangout—” He lightly kicked Mark’s foot, “If you’re bored, or something. And I could prove you wrong. We could have fun together.”

The wind was blowing fiercely enough to take down gelled pieces of Mark’s hair. He fixed them swiftly and looked away, laughing lightly, “Uh, sure.” He shrugged, “Sounds fun.”

Donghyuck smiled, looking Mark up and down when he realized he wouldn't say anything else. He looked away and laughed through his nose, tapping his lighter against his jeans, “Okay. We can be friends, then.”

Isn’t it weird? , Mark asked Renjun later in the week, biting the inside of his cheeks and frowning, I wonder why he’d want that. Is he just, like, really thankful? Renjun, busy playing his favorite racing game at the arcades, turned to him with a scowl, can’t you relax and have some fun for once? , he shook his head, smacking a button when his car was suddenly thrown out of the track completely, you’re killing me . Exactly , Mark nods, I know I’m insufferable, it’s why I’m asking .

He’s suspicious even if he knows, rationally, that they get along, and that being friends makes sense for most people. It’s just—he frowns. He doesn’t know how to put it into words.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it since he’s given a kind of task by Donghyuck, one that requires him to show up in his neighborhood on Tuesday. It happened when they got back to the parking lot that day, when Donghyuck grabbed Mark’s wrists and put his cigarette pack in his hand, cold fingers almost making Mark retreat. Can you keep this for me? Like, for a day or two? Mark almost complained, but Donghyuck told him it’d be quick, and that he’d take it back once they met on the ramps the following week.

But the truth is that it became way more frequent, and then they naturally just started to see each other most Tuesdays anyway, not only because it’s the afternoon Mark has off, but also because it’s one of the days Donghyuck is sure to always be running around the park with scraped knees. Tuesdays as well as Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Mark knows because Donghyuck pages him beforehand sometimes; just the number five, most of the time.

“Like, the S from skateboarding. In case you wanna show up.”

Mark swings by when he and Renjun feel like it, and when the days aren’t as hot as that first afternoon. Mark never says anything, but the fact that he’s still hesitant must be clear to Donghyuck: when they’re in groups, Donghyuck pulls him aside often, and they end up spending more time together—just the two of them—than with anyone else. With that, they realize that they agree on most things: this summer has been insufferable, time doesn’t seem to pick up, and their towns condemn them with little to do. They’re both irresolute about college, about what to do and where to go next, so they don’t bother thinking too much about it. The days just go by, and they kill time together.

The packs of cigarettes go back and forth.

“You hide that from your friends, don’t you?” Mark asks one day, watching Donghyuck blow out the smoke through the break room window—Mark’s break room, that is.

Donghyuck looks back at Mark like he’s boring him, which means yes. He’s resting against a pile of boxes and Mark is waiting for him to notice the dust will stain his shirt.

“You know about it.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Jaemin’s way more uptight than you think.” He complains, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Mark rests his head on his hand and changes the fan setting to high. He decides to play around a little, “And I’m not?” A church boy. Someone who irons the collar of his uniforms thrice.

Donghyuck, with his chin high, looks at Mark and smirks, “You bought me this pack, and the one before. I think you’re the only one who thinks that of yourself.”

Or maybe others still find Mark to be an uptight person, and it’s just Donghyuck that sees through him. Mark feels a little exposed around him sometimes, because it’s as if Donghyuck always gets too close too suddenly, like he knows too much. It’s almost uncomfortable, yet Mark finds himself drawn to him, compelling Mark to step out of his usual demeanor and want more of—this. He follows Donghyuck around, but Donghyuck goes to him when he doesn’t, anyway.

When it comes to a point that Donghyuck thinks it’s absurd that he’s been to Mark’s neighborhood a bunch of times and he’s yet to see what Mark’s room looks like, they start frequenting each other’s houses. The first time Donghyuck comes over is funny; Mark gets to watch him act in a way he hadn’t seen before. Donghyuck greets Mark’s mom with an embarrassed smile, his hands intertwined in front of his body and his fingers fidgeting. Mark scrunches up his face in a smile when Donghyuck stutters while answering her questions, knowing he’ll hate to be mocked for it later, then discreetly steps on his toes when he tries too hard to be charming. He only seems to relax when they finally retreat to Mark’s room, showing Mark the CDs he brought with him and asking Mark to teach him how to play every game he sets his eyes on. While Mark takes in the songs Donghyuck told him he should listen to, Donghyuck curses out pixelated characters on Mark’s small TV screen.

Donghyuck uses the same logic to trap Mark into learning how to ride a skateboard. He says he’s just teaching Mark something in return, that it makes no sense for him to hang out there that often and still be this much of a coward. He foregoes wearing glasses and focuses on Donghyuck’s words:

“You can bend your knees further. Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t worry about jumping off, we can just practice it on the grass later. That’s good. You don’t—okay, you don’t have to go that fast.”

Donghyuck is nice about it; maybe because it’s something he’s passionate about. He’s nice about Mark’s hand gripping his shoulder when he thinks he’s about to fall back, and definitely nice about how much Mark laughs when he’s nervous, too (it doesn’t help that Donghyuck’s friends are watching).

That day, Donghyuck is wearing a huge shirt and wiping his face on it every now and then, scrunching up his face when the fabric roughs up the tender and sunburnt skin of his nose. Mark risks a glance at his exposed stomach once, blinking and looking away at the sight of so much of his skin. Donghyuck is a lucky guy. He must attract girls even when he’s like this, drenched in sweat and sneezing from the intensity of the sun, which has never really been Mark’s luck.

It becomes something they do, trying out new things together, but this time without keeping score. Mark caves in on teaching Donghyuck how to play the guitar, something he says he’s always wanted to do. Mark bites down on a smile as he watches Donghyuck sit criss-cross on his porch, guitar on his lap, and frown at the amount of strings.

“Number 4…”

“That’s your pinky.” Mark reminds him, sipping on the lemonade his mom brought out. Donghyuck lifts his eyebrows, blinking at the chart on Mark’s beginner book.

“On what string?” He murmurs, bending his arm too far out to try and get the chord right. He makes a noise of complaint as he strums, hair hiding his eyes as he looks down, “My fingers can’t go that far apart!”

Mark grins at the sound, sharp and out of tune, “That’s why you have to practice.”

They decide that, even though Donghyuck is still a little bit rusty on the guitar and Mark has given up on the piano a long time ago, music is an important interest in common, something they talk about every time they’re together. They start to go to record stores nearly every week, trying out the new stuff that has come out in the last year. Rock is especially back, and Mark laughs when Donghyuck pretends to headbang in the listening station, putting on Mark’s headphones for him and instructing him to do the same.

When Mark gifts Donghyuck his favorite record out of every single one they’ve heard together, he hugs Mark so tight that Mark barely has any space to complain. He scrunches up his face and loosely wraps his arms around Donghyuck, too, feeling a little overwhelmed with the irritating smell of his shampoo under his nose.

Donghyuck asks him to come over, too, because he thinks his mom would just love to know he has a friend like Mark. What does that mean? , Mark asks while they cycle over; Donghyuck makes a face, you put gel in your hair for this . She does like him, like Donghyuck’s sister and brothers do, eventually getting used to Mark’s presence, braiding his hair and jumping on his back every time he comes over. Their friends also get used to the way the two of them stick together more often, with Renjun teasing Mark for forgetting about him, which Mark vehemently denies. They hang with the group, but Mark is still closed-off in their presence, even if Jaemin makes sure to try to get close to him whenever he can. Mark is polite, and Donghyuck watches the interactions while laughing through his nose. It’s interesting that he does, because he also spends a lot of time trying hard to charm Renjun, which always makes Mark laugh.

Maybe things just seem funnier when he’s around, because it happens often. Mark’s mom tells him to invite Donghyuck over for dinner more, and he does, but they try not to meet eyes across the table often, because serious things feel frivolous when they’re together, and they’ll laugh and get scolded again. Mark can’t stare at Donghyuck’s clothes too much when he’s invited to—or better yet, trapped into handing out resumes with him, because he just looks so polished , Mark laughs, and Donghyuck makes a face at him while unbuttoning the cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. Like a little man , Mark mocks, making Donghyuck groan: I’m not little! I’m your exact size!

Mark thinks that he’s been a fool this entire time, being so untrusting, so closed off for all of those years. The companionship that comes with making new friends feels so rewarding. He feels favored by life, in a way—to have met Renjun, of course, but also to have met Donghyuck during a period of his life in which time seemed to regress, during which he had no direction at all. He brings in a kind of freshness that entrances Mark, and that affects Mark’s life in a way significant enough for others to notice. Renjun brings it up while Mark is telling a story about a drawing Donghyuck’s brother made for him:

“It’s good that you and Donghyuck get along so well.” Renjun nods, chewing on a sandwich they get as lunch every time their budget is tight at the end of the month, “Jaemin is kind of surprised. I was, too.”

Mark lifts his eyebrows, picking out breadcrumbs from the table, “He is? How come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he just thinks you’re very different people.”

“Well,” Mark says calmly, clearly offended, “It’s interesting that he thinks that.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, “He doesn’t mean anything bad. In fact, you’re the only one who ever thinks badly of yourself.” He kicks Mark’s leg under the table, “It’s just funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Well, that even if you’re different from each other, you still work well together.” Renjun tilts his head, “I always thought we were this close because of how similar we are.”

“I don’t know.” Mark murmurs, “Maybe Donghyuck and I aren’t that different to begin with.” He messes with a napkin, “He’s better than me, but still.”

His brother, now traveling through South America, even meets him when he phones in:

“Mom says you’re becoming an adventurous guy, coming home with scrapped knees.” The static is less prominent than it was when he was still in Europe, “When are we traveling together?”

Mark cackles, “I wouldn’t say that, but it’d be nice to travel. Maybe when uncle lets me off his hook.”

Donghyuck, by his side when his mom hands him the phone, turns curious, “Travel where?”

Mark turns away from him, “My friend Donghyuck wants to know where we’re going, but I’m not telling him. He’ll want to tag along.”

“Mark!” Donghyuck complains, tugging on his shirt, “Where?”

Yijin laughs, “He can come.” Mark rolls his eyes at Donghyuck’s sulking and holds up the phone so he and Donghyuck can share it, their ears close together so they can hear, “Hello, Donghyuck-ssi! I’m in Colombia, but we could go anywhere.”

Donghyuck mouth drops, “Oh, my God. Mark, we should run away and go traveling.”

Mark shakes his head, fighting back the smile that tried to make its way onto his face, “Maybe one day.”

With some things, they still have to compromise: 

Donghyuck has to convince Mark to go out at night more often, because it can be so fun, and he knows a place Mark would love! And Mark, at his big age, has to sneak out once or twice so they can go dancing, which is as embarrassing as it sounds. Renjun finds the name of the club funny and agrees to tag along, but there he’s the one to refuse to get up from the bar most of the time, even if they jump around him in a circle and pull on his arm with promises of a good time. Jaemin ends up staying by his side, and Mark and Donghyuck take over the dancefloor, flailing around, twirling and bouncing without any grace. It’s not a wonder their friends refuse to be seen with them.

“Water!” Mark screams at Donghyuck to be heard over the music, shaking his head like he can’t take a second more without it, but they don’t stop moving, “I can’t—I’m dying! I’m gonna die!”

Donghyuck, with his sweat-soaked hair clinging to his face and getting into his eyes, guffaws and grabs Mark’s arm. They trip their way to the bar and clumsily throw themselves on the counter, calling the attention of the bartender with please! please! and then thanking him endlessly when they get their fill. We’re taking it easy tonight! Donghyuck tells him, words slurred, and Mark knocks his shoulders into his, laughing.

“—and then I’m done! One more shot and I’m done!” Donghyuck swears loudly, hands up like Mark is taking him hostage. Mark’s shoulders shake with laughter while he denies it vehemently, pushing Donghyuck away from the bar as he tries to order another full drink— liar! —, “I’m a serious man! I keep my promises!”

“Liar.” Mark tells him, sitting down on a stool and pulling Donghyuck with him to do the same, “Sit down and drink your water.”

Donghyuck groans, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead and licking his lips like he just realized how much he sweat, “You’re no fun.”

“You knew that already.” Mark nudges him, knocking their shoes together. Donghyuck smiles and shrugs, staring ahead at the dance floor. It’s late, but there are still so many people inside—you can’t make your way through the crowd without getting your feet stepped on multiple times. The music is still so loud Mark can barely think.

“But you shoul—” Donghyuck hiccups, “—You should have fun, right? You should enjoy yourself.” He nudges Mark, “You don’t wanna go talk to girls?”

Mark laughs, flustered. He’s never been good with girls. Oftentimes, he’s the one approached, the girls interested in him the ones to take the initiative. But co-ed school made it easier for that to be the case: girls would stick post-it notes on his locker, talk to him in the hallways, sit by his side during lunch, then ask to hold hands on the way home. It was a system he was used to. Now, it’s rare that he’ll even meet many girls when he’s out. And when he does, it feels like the conversation is something he can’t master; it’s like an entirely different world. He shakes his head,

“What girls?”

“I don’t know.” Donghyuck shrugs, smiling playfully, “Whoever. Girls are really into American boys these days.”

Mark rolls his eyes, “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m being very serious.”

“You can barely talk to someone with music this loud, what would I even say?”

Donghyuck stares at him mischievously, “Well, I don’t know. You could use that to come closer, whisper in her ear,” He says that while bending closer to Mark, “Ask her if she can spare a poor guy like you a second, if you can buy her a drink.” Mark smiles and scrunches up his face when Donghyuck grips his chin, “And then she’ll fall for those big eyes of yours and you won’t need to say anything else.”

And while Donghyuck is mockingly staring up at Mark through his eyelashes like he’s one of those girls, Mark, staring back, feels like maybe he wouldn’t have such a hard time approaching women if a girl similar to Donghyuck crossed his way. If he’s gotten this far in life never having really fallen for someone, then maybe it’s because no girl has ever come close to charming him this much, to stitching herself to Mark’s life like Donghyuck has, and if someone had, if Mark’s ex had, then maybe—he doesn’t know, but as he thinks of it, of this possibility, he does feel braver, the type of thing that happens when you like someone so much you’re willing to give up the cowardly parts of yourself.

And maybe it’s also because Mark wouldn’t need it to be a thing out of a movie; it could be just like this. Mark looks down at his lips and there’s nothing special about them, because Donghyuck bites them often; he spends too much time under the sun, too, and so they’re always chapped, like they must be right now, even if Mark can’t see well under the strobing lights. They’re not pink, or painted over with gloss—that would be okay, it could be a girl like that. Mark wouldn’t mind. They’re both drenched in sweat and drunk off their heads, and that’s fine, it wouldn’t have to be perfect, she wouldn’t have to be a saint. It could be exactly like this.

Mark blinks back to reality and Donghyuck is still staring up at him quietly, waiting; Mark’s fingers, resting on his own thigh, grab and twist, clutching the fabric of his jeans in his hand. He turns his face, letting Donghyuck’s hand fall, and laughs a little breathlessly, “Ah.”

“You’d have her in the palm of your hand.”

Mark shakes his head vehemently, closing his eyes, making sure not to look at Donghyuck again, “I’m—really feeling it now, I’m a little too drunk.”

He hears Donghyuck laugh and pat his thigh, “How do you like it?”

“Hm.” Mark frowns, the music is suddenly even louder, “Not—not much.”

Donghyuck puts an arm around him comfortingly, but it’s anything but—it’s too hot in there already, there are too many people in there already, “Okay, time to go back.”

“You can stay.” Mark tries; it’ll be a terribly awkward walk home if Donghyuck goes with him.

But Donghyuck shrugs, “Why would I?”

The next couple of days feel endless. Mark eats his meals in his room and takes extra shifts at work, ignoring his brother’s calls when they come through. He reads the newspaper when the night shift is all that’s left for him to take and plays the Sudoku his coworkers leave forgotten in the last page so as not to think too much, but while scanning the rows and in between organizing shelves mindlessly, he easily feels memories come back and his face heat up.

Maybe he shouldn’t ever drink. It’s so embarrassing—he’s good, he’s always been good, he’s disciplined and has never let his weaknesses rule over him, and it seems like being inebriated throws all of that out of the window. He can’t afford to be like this now. He was a weird kid in school, but Donghyuck didn’t meet him then, he met him afterwards, when he was already a little less of a loser, and Donghyuck likes him now—for whatever reason. He doesn’t want to put that to the test. Mark just hopes he didn’t notice anything, that he was too drunk to realize that he told a joke and Mark, for whatever reason, lingered. That he looked at Donghyuck’s lips like they, taken apart like a piece of a puzzle, could touch Mark’s and please him.

Mark scrunches up his face and holds back a whine of shame, hiding his face in his elbow. The worst part is that the memory comes back often; the rush, the desire—he wasn’t like this even at fifteen. Maybe he’s been neglecting himself if something so small could make his blood run hotter like this. He just stared at his lips, and that was enough to—Mark shakes his head. Of course Donghyuck is an attractive guy, but Mark is not attracted to guys. It’s not easy to describe how this reaction came to be, but he knows it’s a misunderstanding, like it has been before. It’s all hormones, anyway.

I’ll deal with it , he thinks before getting in the shower, remembering what it was like to be with the last of his high school girlfriends and touching himself, and I won’t have to think about it again .

Except he does, because it’s not like it’s easy not to when Donghyuck is everywhere even when he’s not there. Mark thinks and worries himself sick—if not a persistent thought, it’s an itch deep under his skin, a bothersome feeling he can’t quite explain. When Donghyuck is around, it’s an alarm. But he’s like he’s always been: Donghyuck is Donghyuck, he’s bright and perky and light, he’s uncomplicated and effortlessly cool. He doesn’t seem to think anything even happened—it’s a relief, but then again Donghyuck would lie if it made Mark less embarrassed.

So it’s still a possibility. Had Donghyuck noticed? Or his friends, had they seen it from afar, had they pointed out they all knew something was wrong with Donghyuck’s new friend? Is everyone around him privy to something so his, so intertwined that he himself would never be able to take apart, to understand? And is it fair? He wants to make a home out of a shell, to cry and hide if that’s the case, to hit his own head. Is it even possible for someone to be so self-conscious and unaware at the same time? For someone to come this close to fucking up a good thing over something so stupid?

And it is a good thing, because even if his head spirals exactly on the subject of being too close to Donghyuck, they don’t talk less often. Maybe a little, because Mark is often busy now, but Donghyuck still pages him messages he has to decode, series of numbers Mark has a hard time understanding. Sometimes it’s just the number 0 a bunch of times, which must be how he rates Mark’s new schedule. It’s something to make Mark smile when he’s counting down the minutes to go back home. But, at the same time, he knows it’s almost useless to run away like this; it’s not like he wants to stop being friends, and it’s not like Donghyuck will let him. It’s just that Mark is scared of when they see each other again in a setting in which he lets himself get too comfortable, too vulnerable, or too drunk. Who knows what his mind has in store for him. But then again, maybe he’s overreacting like he often does. Soon , he thinks, I’ll forget about all of this, and I won’t have to think about it ever again .

This entire situation plays a part in the comfort he finds in their next outing, which is a little different from the usual. Since the first snow of the year is about to fall, Jaemin plans a small get-together. It really is meant to be just for close friends, he says, but then stipulates absurd quantities of food to be made and bought— it’s cold, all we’ll do is eat! It’s fair because he’s right, so they nod along, divide tasks, and bundle up. It sounds like a cozy, safe evening for Mark.

Donghyuck, tasked with preparing the vegetables for the stew, peels and slices in silence in the kitchen. Mark, who preferred to contribute with money and not labor, rests his head on his arms and watches him work. The clock ticking gets a little on Mark’s nerves.

“I’ve just never thought about it. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you in the kitchen.” Mark thinks out loud. Donghyuck is careful; the slices seem symmetrical when he puts them to the side, the peels fast. The room smells like the street fair Mark hasn’t been to in years.

Donghyuck’s shoulders shake from where Mark can see him—just his back, covered up by a sweater he’ll soon take off, “I’m a family man. The children have to eat.”

“Are you any good at it?”

“Ah, of course I am.” Donghyuck complains, “I’ve never made you anything?”

“Never.” Mark stares at the calendar on the wall right next to the fridge, at its folded corners and marked-up dates. He has to think about what to get his mother and brother for Christmas.

“Are you hungry?” Donghyuck asks while separating his work into bowls, “I’ll whip something up.” He turns and points at Mark, “And if you don’t like it, you better lie.”

Mark has lunch and discovers he doesn’t have to lie, and Donghyuck preens at the compliments, crossing the kitchen to hug his arm and rest his head on his shoulder affectionately. It’s just for a second, and Donghyuck is kidding, using the opportunity to place his cold hands on Mark’s skin and bother him, but Mark tenses up even at a gentle touch, smiling and pushing him lightly as a cover up.

This hasn’t helped Mark in the last few weeks: Donghyuck is a very physically affectionate person, which Mark had no idea about before—as in, in the beginning. It’s definitely not the image Donghyuck wants to uphold for himself most of the time. It was only recently that Mark started to notice just how many times he glues himself to his friends when he’s bored, or tired, and how much he plays with their clothes, their fingers, their hair—but when the groups are small, and when few people will care to look.

But Mark didn’t think Donghyuck did the same to him—that is, until the touches started to overwhelm him instead of flying by without him noticing. This week , Mark thinks, Donghyuck played with the sleeves of my coat, and with its buttons, and brushed my hair back, and pinched my ear, and pointed out moles in my neck, and huddled closer because he was cold . They’re such stupid details of which to take note, but Mark did and does anyway, almost obsessively. They were alone each and every time, and Mark’s feelings about it came and went—fear, gladness, avoidance. Fear that he’d react in the wrong way, glad to have been chosen by Donghyuck to be this close of a friend, avoidant of his own thoughts—thinking, he’s always thinking.

But Donghyuck doesn’t seem to overthink it at all. He just sits back down and tells Mark to eat more like he always does, crossing his arms and telling him about something annoying that happened today, just before they saw each other.

Later in the day, it becomes such a cold evening that Mark has to wear the gloves he found in the depths of a drawer, an old pair the school gifted them years before and Mark never bothered to switch to better ones. Renjun, with the same ones, laughs when he arrives.

“I pick up calls, and write things down, and help fix whatever goes wrong.” Renjun tells Mark. They’re on the couch, taking advantage of having arrived earlier while the others sit on the floor, huddling close to the fireplace and the low table. Most of the dishes are already spread out there, and the guys slurp on the noodles quietly, “It’s fine, just a little boring.”

“You get used to it,” Mark tells him, sipping on his drink, “You’ve heard from that school yet?”

“They’ll call when the year turns, I think.” Renjun sighs, tracing patterns on the couch cushions with a frown, “But, I don’t know.”

“You’ll get in.” Mark nudges him and smiles, “You’ll be a college educated man.”

Renjun laughs, “They’ll stop me if they’re a serious institution.”

“They won’t because they love you,” Jaemin sits by Renjun’s feet and taps his knee, “Tell Mark how much they loved you. Mark, they think he’s brilliant.”

“They never said that—ah, they never said that!” He laughs while Jaemin tries to cover his mouth, “It was a normal interview, they do a thousand of those—” They love him, they’re so impressed , Jaemin mouths at Mark while Renjun slaps his shoulder. Mark smiles. They really did become good friends, and Renjun does seem happier. Mark tries to notice if he has any negative feelings about it, if he feels insecure at the thought, but it seems like he doesn’t. It’s refreshing, and he smiles at the thought, “And now I have to wait like everyone else, and we’ll see.”

“I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it all already and you’re in.” Jaemin tells him, smiling even when he’s being very serious.

Renjun smiles back, rolling his eyes and giving up, whatever you say . But they have to eat, too, so they eventually sit on the ground along with the others and get their fill. There, closer to the furniture that holds the television and Jaemin’s family’s trinkets, they catch sight of framed pictures that Jaemin likes to present proudly. Some of them, of the group when they were boys, are passed around so everyone can laugh at their old hairstyles and ridiculous poses.

Mark bends closer and smiles at the too-big clothes and goofy faces pulled, laughing when he spots Donghyuck. He had a bowl cut and a playful grin, and he looked like a nightmare of a kid. He was , Jaemin tells Mark, making a face. Mark wants to take the picture with him so he can make fun of Donghyuck forever. But then he gets hold of another one, which must be more recent because they look the same as they do now, and among the eight, ten people in the photograph, Donghyuck and a girl pose while hugging, Donghyuck giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Mark stares at her. She has really long, straight hair, with the smallest of pins holding back some locks. Her small face is split into a smile, one that makes Mark think she was laughing while the picture was taken, and her arms are wrapped around Donghyuck’s neck. He’s probably lifting her up, because Mark can tell she’s shorter, and he can also tell Donghyuck was laughing while kissing her. They look flushed, happy.

“Ah, Hyejin-ssi! I miss her,” Someone by Mark’s side points out, finger tapping her figure in the picture, “Donghyuck is such an idiot.”

Jaemin shushes him, and he complains, but Mark doesn’t really hear what’s said afterwards. He stares at the picture; she really is beautiful.

He wonders what it is that Donghyuck liked about her. Mark usually pays attention to a girl’s eyes, to how she stares at him when they talk, or to how her hair frames her face. All in all, he’s never been particular about this, because anyone can seem good-looking to him. But Donghyuck must feel differently: he’s a different kind of handsome, the type of person to always walk hand-in-hand with someone who’s their match, just as beautiful and just as witty. He must’ve liked how pretty she is, how delicate, smaller than him and polished. She was lucky; he must’ve found everything he wanted in her, even if just for a while.

When Donghyuck comes back from the kitchen, last meal finished, he’s the only one that feels bothered by the fire. He sighs and places the bowls on the table, nudging Mark’s plate so he can put down his own. He starts eating, and quickly everyone else goes for a second round, too, while Mark chews on whatever is closest to him on the table. They laugh more when Donghyuck is around, Mark thinks, just like himself. He wonders what she was like around him.

Late at night, when it’s decided some will sleep over, they play games of chance to see who will get to sleep upstairs, comfortable in the spare bedroom, and who will crash on the couches. Mark and Donghyuck, who go in too confident, predictably lose. So when everyone has already gone to bed, they make theirs on the couches and sit by the fireplace, waiting for sleep to come.

Donghyuck is cold now. He’s huddled up, covered by Mark’s blanket and his own—and, to be fair, he’s already close to dozing off. Mark is the one who can’t shut his eyes. He watches Donghyuck close his own and frown as if something is bothering him. They’re sitting, so that must be why; Donghyuck looks uncomfortable, but Mark had told him he wasn’t tired at all, and Donghyuck had sat on the same couch so he could talk Mark’s ears off, tire him. It didn’t go according to plan.

Mark nudges him, “Hyuck.” He hums, “Just lay down. You’re tired.”

“I’m okay.” He blinks his eyes open, “I’m awake.”

Donghyuck’s eyes are miniscule, and his hair is a mess because of how it rubbed against the material of the headrest. Mark smiles, and on a whim, he reaches over to smooth some pieces down. It’s a friendly gesture Donghyuck might appreciate , he thinks. Not everything is about me . Donghyuck looks at him.

“Let’s talk.” Donghyuck says with a low voice, “About anything. What do you want to talk about?”

Mark shakes his head, “You have to sleep.”

Donghyuck makes a noise, “You have to sleep, too.” He’s frowning, “We can talk about—whatever you want. Even that stupid show you’ve watched a million times.”

Mark smiles, “You can barely hold your head upright.”

Donghyuck, on a mission, shuffles closer to Mark and rests his head on his shoulder dramatically, “There,” He says with a muffled voice, “Now talk to me. I’m listening.”

Mark stares ahead, eyes distracted with the pattern printed on the loveseat across from them. Donghyuck’s weight against his side warms him up. Nervous, with his palms starting to sweat, he really does say whatever comes to mind out loud—sure, that show he watches, he’ll talk about it. But then, when Donghyuck’s breathing slows down and Mark can’t come up with anything new, he shuts up and sighs shakily. He plays with his own fingers, hands on his lap, because what else can he do.

Donghyuck’s head is heavy on his shoulder. He wonders what it is that Donghyuck likes about him; what kept him interested long enough that they became close, what made him think it was worth it. He wonders if Donghyuck pities him, if he—knows, and if it makes him laugh not because another guy is picturing kissing him, but because the guy in question is Mark, with all of his dullness, with his undesirable features and his unfitting lankiness. Mark wonders if his thoughts are an offense until he sleeps and dreams of unnerving things.

He awakes in the morning with a stiff neck and an odd ache in his arm, even if he detangled from Donghyuck in the middle of the night and curled up on the other couch with a good pillow. It was good that he did it before anyone could see. The house is still, and Donghyuck is still completely hidden by the covers across from him. The only sound Mark can hear comes from the kitchen, careful noises of clanking and a high pitch from a kettle. He comes to find it’s Jaemin, which leaves him with little time to himself and to really think about the night before.

“Did I wake you up?” Jaemin whispers wide-eyed, pouring himself a cup of something. Mark shakes his head, “Okay. Well, I’m just having coffee. You can have some, too, and I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

“It’s okay.” Mark denies, running his hands through his hair to tame it, “I’m not.”

Jaemin smiles, sitting down. Mark is trying to think of an excuse to give and leave, but Jaemin is always faster than him, “I hope the couches were okay.”

“They were, thank you.” Mark reassures him even if his neck complains, “Donghyuck is still sleeping, so he probably agrees.”

Jaemin laughs through his nose, “He’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I know.” Mark bites the inside of his mouth, averting his eyes. Maybe it’s because Jaemin smiles so much that Mark always feels like he’s about to get into a trap.

“You know, Renjun—” Jaemin starts, reclining in his chair and staring at his cup of coffee, “Every time I talk about you, he changes the subject.”

Mark frowns, “He does?” He wonders why, or, first—why Jaemin even mentions him.

“Yeah. Maybe it’s because of what I ask, which I’ll admit is invasive.”

Mark leans against the wall across from him, curious. He tries hard not to cross his arms so as not to seem closed-off, “Well, I guess you can ask me now.”

Jaemin nods, “I guess I just wanted to know if there is a reason as to why you don’t like me.”

Mark stares at him, feeling his ears get hot. The house around him, the scene in front of him all feel too peaceful for a question like that, so suddenly, “That’s—I don’t dislike you. Why do you think that?”

“It’s fine if you do, honestly. I just wanted to know why.”

Mark shakes his head, “There’s no reason to dislike you.”

And it truly is what Mark thinks. If anything, he’s the odd one out, avoiding Jaemin like this. He’s never been anything but great; pleasant, fun, thoughtful. Mark is just too immature to handle it.

“Well, I don’t know.” Jaemin sips his coffee, “I spend too much time with myself. Maybe there’s some unlikeable thing I don’t know about.”

“There isn’t.” Mark sighs, “I’m just difficult.”

“Are you saying you’re the problem, and not me?” Jaemin grins cordially.

“Yeah, I guess.” Mark presses his lips together, smiling back and crossing his arms, “It’s the truth, anyway. Don’t take it personally.”

“Sure.” Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, which is now brown; maybe the blond is reserved for the summer, “But it is a little sad. I feel left out since you like all of my friends. Donghyuck only has good things to say.”

Mark watches him and fiddles with his cuticles, smiling slightly, “Renjun doesn’t say anything?”

“He does, but that’s not news.” Jaemin shrugs, “Donghyuck being this complementary is. It makes me a little jealous.” Jaemin smiles at Mark.

Mark is the weakest detractor someone could ever have. He doesn’t have half as much of a bite as he thinks he does, nor can he really act like the cynic he feels like, not when he’s staring into someone’s eyes. Sometimes you try to be mean , Renjun told him once while scrunching up his face, but you’re not very good at that . He wants to apologize instantly because, in truth, he doesn’t want anyone to feel like he’s often felt like in the past: less-than, secluded, apart. Jaemin never deserved that.

“I’m sorry.” Mark furrows his brow, “I don’t want to exclude you from anything. You shouldn’t have to feel like that among friends, or in your own house.” Mark swallows, “It’s true that I haven’t been nice to you. I’m not very bright—emotionally, I mean. It’s why I don’t have many friends, anyway.” Mark smiles, “I’m not a great one.”

Jaemin rests his head on his hand, “Well, I’m not smart at all. It’s why I’m not in college.” He smiles, “Maybe we shouldn’t worry about that.”

“I guess.”

“You’re a good friend to them. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Mark turns his eyes to the ground, nodding. There’s no apology he can give that isn’t at least a little bit pathetic, “I’m sorry again. This has nothing to do with you.” He sighs, “I really feel like shit—I just slept in your house.”

Jaemin laughs, “I invited you.” He gets up to place his cup in the sink and leave the kitchen, but not before patting Mark’s shoulder, “You’re welcome whenever, anyway.”

The conversation leaves Mark thoughtful. Donghyuck is suspicious when he wakes up, but he doesn’t really say anything: he just squints very hard when Mark looks at him, pinching his thigh while Mark shakes his head with a smile. Are you sad? , Donghyuck insisted while they walked back home, intertwining his arm with Mark’s and leaning forward to try and scrutinize Mark’s face better. Mark shaked his head again and again, I’m just thinking . The most boring of hobbies , Donghyuck sighed, you never talk to me when you’re busy thinking .

It’s true, because Mark needs the silence to make sense out of things. Truth is, he was probably supposed to feel better, but he doesn’t. He just feels like he knows less and less every day, like his head just gets more in a twist.

“Maybe I should go to college.” Mark murmurs, chin resting on his folded arms. Renjun takes some spinach from his plate,

“And do what?”

Mark doesn’t know. But maybe he should do something that isn’t this. He sighs, “Economy?”

Renjun chews and stares at him in silence.

“Business?” Mark furrows his brow, “Mom would like that.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I know.” Mark stares out the window, “But it’s nice to think about.”

Maybe he should go to college, or maybe he should accept the new but demanding position at his job, or maybe he should get a girlfriend and forget this. But the truth is he doesn’t do anything: he doesn’t think, or talk, or write anything down, or listen to deafening songs. He decides to go on as usual, because it’s too bothersome to try and change a life. In return, he gets progressively more stressed, and his dreams wake him up more often—dreams in which his interactions with Donghyuck end differently, dreams in which Donghyuck’s ex-girlfriend reappears, dreams in which all of his teeth fall out and his life is ruined. It’s not a crisis , he thinks, but it can’t be a good sign either .

He’s biting the inside of his cheeks in someone’s kitchen—Mark can never remember the guy’s name, but he’s pretty sure he’s in college, so neither Mark or Donghyuck know him very well. There are piles of dishes in his sink, and Mark stares at them with his arms crossed. He doesn’t know why every little thing dissatisfies him lately.

Even his mom had pointed it out, running her fingers through his hair and asking if he had been having trouble sleeping. Mark frowned and shaked his head, voicing out anything that came to mind so as not to worry her. The truth, the fact that he doesn’t really know what’s going on or how to describe how he feels, makes him feel like a kid, like any little bothersome thing builds up to something terrible inside of him, every single time. It’s one thing on top of another, really.

Donghyuck hadn’t really cared. Mark told him he didn’t want to hangout today, or to get drunk at a stranger’s house again, and Donghyuck shrugged:

“Okay.”

“I’m being a nuisance today. I’ll just rot in bed.”

Donghyuck made a face, “Since when is that news?” He tugged on Mark’s arm, “Come be a nuisance with me.”

How they ended up where they did, Mark doesn’t know. But it’s not a terrible evening, especially since Mark can hide in the kitchen; it’s just that he wants to be home, or to run around the block a couple of times to blow off steam. Whatever opportunity arises first.

That’s when he starts to hear what seems like someone screaming, then another voice screaming back. He frowns, but before he can think to go toward the sound and figure out what’s going on, Donghyuck shows up in the kitchen, putting on his coat in a hurry. He looks out of breath, heated, “Are you staying?”

Mark frowns, “I don’t know. Are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving.”

Mark uncrosses his arms and follows him, speeding up when Donghyuck does. He tries to reach him to grab his arm, ask what’s going on, but Donghyuck isn’t paying attention to him or to what he’s trying to do this time. He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone, even if they pass through the living room and have most eyes on them, and Mark quickly bows and apologizes.

Outside, Donghyuck doesn’t seem interested in stopping his stride or answering when Mark calls his name. It’s only in an alley that he halts, resting against the wall with his head low and a frown on his face.

“Why did you say sorry?” He asks Mark.

Mark, who’s rushing to reach him, stops and furrows his eyebrows, watching Donghyuck light a cigarette with a little difficulty, “Just now?” Mark points behind him, a little out of breath, “Well—because we left so suddenly.”

Donghyuck exhales, smoke fading away, “You don’t have to be so nice all the time.”

Mark scoffs, “Well, I’m really not, so.” He shakes his head, “Don’t put this on me. What’s going on? What happened in there?”

Donghyuck unzips up his coat; it’s a very cold night, but he must not be bothered by that, “It was nothing. Just—stupid.” He murmurs, “It was stupid.”

Mark leans against the wall by his side, “What was?”

Donghyuck makes a face, “Jaemin and I just disagree on something. It’s not a big deal.”

“It sounded like one,” Mark insists, “And you’re upset. How is it not a big deal?”

“I’m not upset.” Donghyuck says, “Just annoyed. He’s right, anyway. I don’t know why I—” Mark waits for Donghyuck to finish, but he stops and shakes his head.

Mark stays in silence, too, uncertain. Donghyuck still seems to be out of breath, or nervous, and Mark wants to tell him not to smoke right now, but he knows Donghyuck wouldn’t like to hear that.

Donghyuck massages his own chest, exhaling, “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Mark says in a low voice, putting a hand on his arm. Donghyuck hunches his shoulders together, scrunching up his face, “Hey. What’s going on?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, but Mark can see that his eyes are watering.

“I don’t know. It’s just that—maybe there’s just something wrong with me, I don’t know.” He whispers.

Mark shakes his head, “What?” He tilts his head, trying to see Donghyuck’s face better, “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know,” He tries to turn his face away, “It’s just a feeling I get.”

“I thought you said you guys just disagreed over something. What even happened for you to say something like this?”

“I don’t know.” He throws his cigarette in the snow, crossing his arms, “I lied, I guess.”

Mark feels like alarm sirens are blasting in his head. It sucks for Jaemin, the fact that he just tried to reconcile some inexistent friendship with Mark, because now Mark really won’t budge. And to think Jaemin said he didn’t know what could be unlikeable about him—well, whatever makes Donghyuck think that is the exact thing. Mark knows Donghyuck by now, and he knows that’s not true, that there’s nothing wrong with him; that everything about him is, actually, more than right. He feels at a loss, unable to defend his point without being put on the spot, or to run back to the house and point a finger at Jaemin’s face, or to think of something that could make the sullen look on Donghyuck’s face disappear, so he takes a page from Donghyuck’s book and hugs him.

Donghyuck startles a little, Mark can feel that, but it takes him less than a second to grab Mark’s jacket in his fists and bring him closer, chin tucking into Mark’s neck. Mark holds him, resting his cheek against his hair, “You’re my good friend, and there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Donghyuck exhales shakily, digging his chin into Mark’s neck. Donghyuck doesn’t seem cold, but it’s a chilly night, so Mark pats his back like he’s warming up his coat anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Donghyuck murmurs.

“Don’t be.”

That night, Mark insists that Donghyuck should sleep over. His mother wouldn’t mind, and neither would Donghyuck’s, and he already has a change of clothes there, anyway. And when they lie down to sleep, Donghyuck on a spare mattress by the foot of Mark’s bed, Donghyuck gets on his knees to quickly hug Mark again, making him chuckle.

“Thank you.” Donghyuck murmurs.

“It’s okay.” Mark whispers back, patting his head.

From then on, things change again, and Donghyuck sleeps over more often.

He says Mark won’t be able to get rid of him now, not now that Donghyuck knows what it’s like to have a room to himself like this, to game in the middle of the night without worrying about a thing, to snack on trashy food without the small hands of his brothers asking for half of the chips. Mark isn’t too worried about it—although at first he was, thinking he’d be overwhelmed, prickly like he is lately, but now he knows that’s not the case. Donghyuck’s presence is good for him, and Mark can’t deny that he likes to be the sole focus of Donghyuck’s attention like this. Mark chastises himself at a thought that comes, but it’s just as pleasing as it is capricious: Jaemin is admired by everyone, but not by Donghyuck right now, and Mark gets to be his favorite—even if only for the time being. He feels like he has accomplished something.

“I love this.” Donghyuck murmurs while spread on Mark’s bed, head hanging off the edge. It’s late, though Mark doesn’t know how late, and their only light comes from the television, “You should let me live here.”

Mark, by his side, smiles and elbows him, “It’s impossible to watch movies with you.”

Donghyuck’s face is painted blue by the screen’s glow, “It’s just that I have so many things to say, it’s not my fault they’re all urgent!”

“What was urgent about wanting me to watch it upside down?” Mark points at the position they’re in, heads where their feet should be and eyes glued to the television, just in a stranger way.

“Well, not much,” Donghyuck shrugs, staring at the onscreen actress and pouting, “I was just kind of bored.”

Mark smiles, because of course he was, “Then let’s do something else.”

“It’s late, and we’ve done everything there is to do!” Donghyuck complains, “Soon we’ll have to start looking for shapes in clouds like kids.”

Mark pictures the scene in his head and laughs. It wouldn’t be a terrible plan for the spring, “I’m actually not opposed to that.”

“Of course you aren’t.” Donghyuck groans, “Stop being nice! You’ve wanted to watch this movie for the longest time! Just tell me to shut up, or something.”

“I tell you to shut up all the time, but right now you’re a guest, and I don’t mind doing whatever you want to do. I don’t want to bore you, or something.”

Donghyuck tsks like he does everytime Mark is too honest about his insecurities, “Aish. You don’t bore me.”

“You just said you’re bored.” Mark makes a face, embarrassed, “Everything bores you, I doubt I don’t.”

“Why do you always say things like that?” Donghyuck frowns at Mark, and it’s funny to see him do that when his hair is being pulled down away from his face like this, “Do I have to tell you that I like spending time with you even when that’s all we do?”

When he puts it like that, it does sound like a stupid thing to worry about, but Mark still sighs. Donghyuck hits him at once.

“Why are you sighing like you’re a character in a movie?” Donghyuck asks, outraged.

Mark sits up, laughing and protecting his arm, “Ouch! I don’t know! I was just breathing.”

Donghyuck sits up, eyes squinting, “No, you weren’t. You were sighing like you do when you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

Mark widens his eyes. How often does he do that? “Ah, what is this? Are you analyzing me?”

“Tell me what you were thinking.” Donghyuck insists, “Right now.”

Mark, astonished, shakes his head, “What the hell? I wasn’t thinking about anything!” Donghyuck stares at him and waits, because he knows Mark cracks under pressure, “It’s just—Well, you know how I am. It’s stupid, I don’t know, but I compare myself a lot, and I know your friends are, like…” He nods to himself, “A little more upbeat. Sometimes I think about that, if I’m not boring in comparison.”

“You’re not.” Donghyuck shakes his head, frowning, “When you’re thinking so much, is that what you occupy your head with? These thoughts?”

Depends on the day, “It’s not like that.” Mark scratches his nape, “It’s just something that stands out to me sometimes.”

“I don’t get why you think so badly of yourself.” Donghyuck says seriously, “I like having you around so much that I stuck to you until we became friends. Don’t you think that that’s a sign I might not find you boring?”

Mark tilts his mouth, “Well, it’s difficult to think so rationally sometimes.”

“I know I’m a lot sometimes, and I might get bored easily, but it’s never of you.” Donghyuck admits, “You’re more than enough for me.”

Mark blinks, averting his eyes when their eye contact goes on for too long. It’s a nice thing to hear, one that paints Mark’s cheeks pink, one that he can’t find an answer to without tripping over his words, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Can you get that into your head?”

Mark nods, sheepish.

Donghyuck makes a face and lightly kicks him, “And don’t ever have low self-esteem around me again. I don’t like that look on your face.”

Mark tsks, “I can’t control my feelings.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, “I get that, I guess. It’s not like it’s easy.”

The movie is still going on in the background, but their conversation is at a point that feels a little raw, the type of thing you get into when it’s late and no one else will hear, and Mark feels like it’s a moment that they shouldn’t break. He also thinks Donghyuck sounds sad, weak, so he asks:

“Are you… okay?” Mark tilts his head.

Donghyuck nods, smiling minimally, “Yeah. I’m speaking generally. Like,” He looks around the room, “When I like a girl, for example; I can’t control it, how I feel, or how I act around her. I’m persistent, and I try way too hard to make her like me back. It’s not easy to dial it back.”

Mark nods back, even though he’s not sure he’s ever felt that with the girls he’s dated before, “Yeah, that’s tough.” He sympathizes, “But, uh… Does that even happen? Girls… not liking you?”

“Yeah.” Donghyuck laughs, “I’m not this prince charming. People dislike me all the time.”

Mark makes a face. It’s hard to believe it; you’d have to be really stupid not to like Donghyuck, “Well, I guess that can happen, but you’re a really good person, too, and really good to have around. I’m sure plenty of girls will like you in the future.”

Donghyuck smiles, lowering his eyes and picking at a thread from his pants, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Mark watches him and nudges him playfully, “Don’t have low self-esteem either.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be giving out advice I can’t follow.” Donghyuck chuckles, “I’ve been cowardly lately.”

“You’re not a coward. It’s not how I see you.” Mark says honestly, “You’re just young—or we are, I guess. It makes sense to feel like this sometimes. And besides, I’ve never been good with girls either, as you can probably guess. So,” He shrugs, smiling, “If that… makes you feel better.”

Donghyuck laughs, “I guess it does. But maybe it’s just because you didn’t put yourself out there more in school; I’m sure there were still girls who liked you from afar, or whatever.” He looks at Mark, “You’re, like, the entire package.”

“Are there packages?”

“Sure. You’re a handsome guy who can play guitar, reads thirty books a year, and volunteers at animal shelters. You’ve volunteered everywhere, actually.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “You’re the nicest guy anyone’s ever met and you’re close with your mom. Girls would, like, swoon.”

Mark shakes his head, “I only volunteered once at the shelter, then I had to stop because I wanted to bring too many puppies home. It was a failed mission.”

Donghyuck sighs, “Do you even hear yourself?” He flops back onto the bed, but this time with his head on the pillow. Mark watches him stare at the ceiling like it’s mocking him, “This is why I’m doomed, and also retiring.”

Mark laughs, propping up on one side, “Retiring from what? Love?”

“Yes. And everything else.” Donghyuck decides, “It’s for my own piece of mind. I’ve had enough.”

“You’ve barely even lived.”

“I’ve seen enough.” He whispers to Mark like he’s telling him a secret, “You don’t know how dangerous some of these girls are.”

Mark laughs, “Well, I guess I don’t. I might as well be retired, too.” Mark rests his head on the pillow, “How can we be so young and already doomed?”

“I’m sure there’s still hope for you.” Donghyuck reassures him, “And when you marry and leave the country, you and your kids can draw me postcards for Chuseok, or something. I’ll probably receive them here.”

Mark smiles, “That’s dramatic, but I would at least fly you out instead of sending pieces of paper. I did promise you we would travel.”

“That’s true.” Donhyuck nods, “Hm. I like that. I’ll hold you to it.”

“I doubt that will be my life, though. I don’t know why, but I can’t picture it in my head.” Mark confesses.

“Maybe when you meet someone you like.” Donghyuck tells him with a smile, “That’s when things change.”

“I wish nothing did. I like how things are right now.” Mark says honestly, “But, still. You’ll meet someone too, and you’ll forget why you were ever this dramatic.”

Donghyuck shrugs, “I don’t know.” He says quietly, “I don’t think I will. But then again, you could come back here to visit me instead of flying me out, because I’ll probably still be a town over. It’ll be like nothing changed.” He smiles at Mark, “I’ll keep my pager number the same.”

And what a good fantasy it is—to pretend that life never has to become anything other than this. If it were true, Mark would never give the future a second thought, he’d never let the shadows of the milestones he still hasn’t achieved weigh him down, make him feel lesser-than. Truth is, he doesn’t need anything else. What good is a career he’ll end up despising, what good is an unnecessary luxury item that serves no purpose other than to envy his neighbors—they’re nothing to him if he won’t feel like he does now, if his worries will be tripled, if his friendships will go cold, his freedom cut from him.

Maybe you shouldn’t give life to anything out of hatred, because what future can Mark create for himself if he’s already this much of a cynic, this much of an opponent of change? Or maybe it’s not cynicism, but an honest attempt at keeping a good thing. For him, this is it—living a simple life, having Donghyuck by his side. Maybe that should be enough.

He thinks Donghyuck feels the same. It’s funny, because Mark only ever pictures an outstanding life for him; he sees him getting over these childish thoughts, quitting his cigarettes and bending over notebooks, internshipping at a good job, then meeting a girl who will mean so much more than the ones who came before. He pictures him ahead, farther away than Mark can reach, and it’s upsetting to think about, if Mark is being selfish; but if he can spare a second to think of how happy it could make Donghyuck, then he’s happy, too. It’d be enough to see each other sometimes and pretend the millennium hasn’t yet turned, like they’re practically kids again.

Mark realizes he’s been staring for too long, but he doesn’t want to stop.

“That’s—nice to think about.” Mark tells him, nodding,  “We can make it a good life, I think.”

“Sure.” Donghyuck smiles, “Maybe we’ll be good at it. Maybe I’ll get to college by the time I’m 40-something.”

Mark smiles back, “That’s my estimate, too. It’s the time it’ll take me to decide what to do.”

“You could always become a philosopher, or something. Aren’t they always thinking like you are?”

“I’m not sure that pays very well.”

“Or a writer. It’d be another way to give vent to everything that goes on in there.” Donghyuck points to Mark’s head with his chin, “Weren’t your Korean teachers always complimentary?”

Mark considers it, imagining himself sitting by his table day and night, ink stains imprinted on the side of his hand, “I’m not sure that’s better. What would I even write about?”

“Anything. The state of the world, the state of your mind. Isn’t that the point?”

He’d have to be honest. Mark licks his lips so he won’t sigh, worried about a profession he hasn’t even taken up yet.

“Don’t be like this.” Donghyuck complains, “Try it out before you start thinking too much again. Write something to me. A little story, whatever. If it sucks, I’ll tell you to give it up, and if it doesn’t, I want you to dedicate your first book to me.”

Mark smiles, imagining his signature on the back of a cover and Donghyuck pointing out his name on a page, “As if my lottery money wasn’t enough.”

“I’m high maintenance, Mark.”

He is. He spends weeks asking Mark if he’s gotten any work done— I haven’t! I work a real job! Which always upsets Donghyuck, who thinks his temporary job as a mailman is real, too. In reality, Mark just has a hard time thinking about what to say, which is funny since he thinks of so much. It’s just hard to decide what is deserving of someone else’s time.

It might also be because he can’t brainstorm with Renjun, who would probably help him out a lot. They haven’t spoken much in the last few weeks, not since Jaemin and Donghyuck fought. Maybe Renjun took offense to the fact that Mark tried to pry and hear about Jaemin through him, or maybe Mark himself is too prideful to call him after he realized Renjun was on Jaemin’s side and felt—betrayed, maybe, even though he’s not involved. Mark thought he was over this entire thing, but this is too much: if Renjun truly prefers Jaemin to Donghyuck and him, Mark won’t bother. Though he will be bothered—immensely.

As it is, Jaemin and Donghyuck still haven’t talked, and Mark can’t tell if it’s affecting Donghyuck that much, except he tells Mark his desire to go out and get wasted more often is unrelated. Mark lets him get away with it because it benefits him, too: he doesn’t think as much when his head is hazy and his hearing muffled, when anything makes him choke with laughter, untroubled. It’s a relief in which he enjoys indulging now, and it’s how he finds himself in the club for the third time in the last few days, downing something with sake Donghyuck told him he’d enjoy.

“Argh!” Donghyuck scrunches up his face, eyes squeezing shut like he’s in agony and hand pushing away his glass.

“Stop wasting your money on whisky if you hate it so much.” Mark laughs, then laughs harder watching Donghyuck nearly drop his glass off the edge. Donghyuck clears his throat, shaking his head,

“I like it.” He says with a hoarse voice, “It’s an experience.”

“Try-hard.” Mark sings and nudges Donghyuck with his foot. Donghyuck rolls his eyes and throws his head back carelessly, cushioning it on the booth like he’s done with the night. They’ve danced enough, drunk enough, and now that they’ve felt the need to run away from the speakers blasting at full volume and nestle away in a corner, Mark thinks maybe it’s time they go home; but as he thinks that, he also gets distracted watching the glistening of the sweat on Donghyuck’s neck as it rolls down.

“Did you like your drink?” Donghyuck’s voice echoes in his head. Mark blinks—which one was it again? He tries to think of an answer and comes up blank, which makes Donghyuck turn to him, “No?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Jesus.” Donghyuck pats Mark’s thigh, laughing. Mark slowly looks down at his hand, feels the weight of it, the warmth of their thighs close together, “Are you okay?”

“I am.” Mark doesn’t nod because the movement makes him dizzy, but he does lift his head to make eye contact with Donghyuck and show him he’s telling the truth. He smiles. Mark is not sure, but by the tilt of Donghyuck’s head, he might not be convinced.

“Okay.” Donghyuck sighs—or laughs, Mark can’t tell—and puts his hand on Mark’s forehead, on the side of his face. Mark closes his eyes at the cool touch, “You’re burning up. Does your face get red?” Donghyuck murmurs, “I’ve never been able to tell.”

“I get—all red.” Mark touches his own chest like it’s a demonstration. He hears Donghyuck laugh.

“Cute.”

Mark sighs; nothing about this situation is cute. He’s probably embarrassing himself in front of Donghyuck again, like he did last week and the one before, “This is not cute.”

Donghyuck sits up straight to brush Mark’s hair back, getting it out of his face, “But this is.” He cups Mark’s face, taking advantage of the fact that Mark doesn’t shy away from his touch as much when he’s drunk, “So cute.”

“Aish.” Mark makes a face. This has always been something he thinks people tell him because he’s not good-looking enough—like maybe his nose is too crooked, his cheeks too sunken, the shadows of his facial hair and marks of pimples unappealing, and that with those conditions, the best word his mom’s friends can ever come up with is ‘cute’. Donghyuck’s face is spotless, and Mark hears what girls say when he walks by; so handsome .

Donghyuck sighs, “And you’re wasting your time with me.” He lightly taps Mark’s face. Mark closes his eyes at the contact,

“I like wasting time with you.” He murmurs. When Mark opens his eyes again, Donghyuck is quiet, blinking slowly like he’s been since his fourth drink, but his eyes are still attentive. He brushes his thumb under Mark’s eye and murmurs something Mark can’t hear, “What?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, frowning like something is bothering him. He still looks handsome with his face scrunched up.

Mark sighs, “The girl from earlier—at the counter. She thinks you’re really handsome. She said it to her friend.”

Donghyuck hums, “She did?”

“Yeah.” Mark tilts his mouth. She was beautiful. Maybe Mark should’ve spoken up, told Donghyuck beforehand, because the two of them would look good together. She’s probably the type of girl Donghyuck likes, if his ex is anything to go by, “You’d like her.”

“Hm.” Donghyuck sighs, brushing the tips of his fingers against Mark’s ear, “I don’t know.”

Mark watches him and furrows his brow. Getting older is such an unfortunate thing; soon he won’t have Donghyuck’s attention so easily, “Will we still go out when you get a girlfriend?”

Donghyuck stares at Mark, cracking the slightest of smiles, “I’m a bachelor for life, remember?”

Mark shakes his head like he knows something, “No.”

“Yeah.” Donghyuck bobs his head in agreement. But it doesn’t feel true or right—Mark had the picture in his head, well-printed since he’d thought of it recently while planning out Donghyuck’s life for him: Donghyuck lifting up a nice girl, making her laugh because that’s all he does—, “Stop frowning.”

Mark tries to look up at his own forehead, making Donghyuck laugh and pinch him. It’s a sound that makes Mark smile, like the sight of Donghyuck’s eyes crinkling, and that makes Mark think of the girl again, because what else could she have said—in her place, Mark would have thought the same, said the same. Though maybe if he were someone different he wouldn’t have been so demure, he wouldn’t have commented on it to a friend and turned away but done—something, anything to be closer. He wouldn’t shy away, not if there were barely any consequences. In some other world, Mark could tell Donghyuck what he really thinks—that she was more than right.

“Who was?” Donghyuck asks like he’s confused, and Mark blinks back to the moment, unaware that he’d said anything at all out loud. Caught, he shakes his head while his neck burns.

“Her.” He admits with a shrug, because he’s ultimately unable to lie; Donghyuck would be able to tell, and he’d insist, and it’d just embarrass Mark further to try, “You’re handsome.”

Mark expects a light punch on his arm or a roll of Donghyuck’s eyes, and both would be fine—a light reaction would take off the pressure from Mark’s shoulders, it would make it seem like Mark is telling a joke and not confessing something he thinks of often. But it’s not what happens: Donghyuck blinks and laughs lightly, a little breathlessly, his gaze flitting between Mark’s eyes while a little dazed, and enough time goes by that Mark thinks he must’ve not heard him right, but then Donghyuck whispers, “I am?”

The corners of Mark’s lips curl up faintly, tentatively, and he can’t lie, “You know that.”

Donghyuck fiddles with Mark’s earlobe, and it registers to Mark again—just how close they are. Donghyuck’s hand warms up the side of his face, and his body Mark’s own. Mark exhales shakily, watching Donghyuck grin at him, “I don’t know anything.”

“Don’t fish for compliments. You’re good-looking.” Mark mumbles in reassurance, eyes scanning Donghyuck’s face, “Everyone thinks so. Don’t you know this?”

“Everyone?” He mocks.

And maybe the answer to that question doesn’t really matter, Mark thinks, “Well, I do.”

“Mark.” Donhyuck whispers carefully, staring up at him like he’s seeing things.

“What?” Mark answers distractedly. There’s still sweat on Donghyuck’s temple, and Mark uses a thumb to wipe it away, brushing it against his face slowly. Donghyuck closes his eyes at the touch. His skin isn’t sunburnt like it used to be when they met, but his tan still contrasts with the color of Mark’s hand; Mark likes the look of it. He spreads his fingers over his cheek, feeling the soft skin, only then noticing that Donghyuck’s lips are parted.

Mark doesn’t think twice before touching them with the pads of his fingers, taking in the feeling. Donghyuck opens his eyes, stare conflicted but unmoving as he lets Mark curiously take him in, the feel of his bottom lip and of the tip of his tongue. Mark furrows his eyebrows, spreading the sheen on his lip gently, swallowing at the sight. It’s then, when Donghyuck’s fingers curl on the side of Mark’s face as if wanting to bring him closer, that Mark gives in to temptation and fits his lips to Donghyuck’s swiftly.

Donghyuck’s breath hitches, one of his hands immediately gripping Mark’s shirt to narrow the small distance still left between their chests. Mark goes along, knocking their noses together because of the speed and having to realign the kiss, sighing when he gets it right. Donghyuck’s compliance surprises Mark, who has to hold his jaw when, at the touch of their tongues, Donghyuck’s earlier strength is substituted by the way he lets Mark guide him. It’s still untidy, cutting, and Mark feels like his heart stops, like he’ll lose his balance and control of his limbs.

Mark is brought back by the sound of glass breaking, which makes him cut the kiss short and blink open his eyes, panting. It was Donghyuck’s glass, he realizes, and what a stupid thing to stop them, Mark should’ve secured it better when Donghyuck couldn’t, anything just so the moment wouldn’t be ruined, because now—well, Mark doesn’t know. He’s terrified to look back and find out what Donghyuck’s face has to tell him, to have to face him and give him answers when he doesn’t have any, when his head is still cloudy and his ears buzzing. But he eventually looks back at him because not knowing is worse, and Donghyuck, just as out of breath, hasn’t moved. Mark is not sure he even noticed anything: he’s still looking up at Mark, hands still on him, lips still parted.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, feeling his heart beat in his temples, eyes tracking every single change to Donghyuck’s furrowing brow, “I—” Mark starts, then realizes he still doesn’t know what to say.

Donghyuck nods minimally, unreactive.

“Are you sure?” Mark frowns, biting the inside of his cheeks nervously.

“I am.” Donghyuck lets the corners of his lips turn up even if he still seems—off, or shaken up. Mark presses his fingernails into his palms—it’s horrendous to be so drunk right now, because it’s clearly not the time, and he has to make sure Donghyuck is okay, that he doesn’t hate him, but now that he knows he technically can, he just wants to kiss Donghyuck again. Donghyuck laughs through his nose.

It’s not the time. Mark averts his eyes and looks up at the ceiling, swallowing dry. They’re in public, Mark has to remember, in a club close to their homes, full of people that could’ve seen them, that could’ve whispered about it. Their corner is deserted at this time, but the thought still makes him feel responsible for protecting Donghyuck and himself if he’s now suddenly the one most sobered up—but then he feels Donghyuck fingers trace his jawline, his neck. He exhales shakily, staring at the neon light bulbs and thinking that maybe he should pray to God, then wondering if he would even hear him out in a situation like this.

“Maybe—we should go home. Because of—” Mark swallows, “It’s late.”

“Yeah.” Mark turns to look at Donghyuck. He stares into Mark’s eyes, flitting from one to the other and sporting a small grin, “Okay.”

But once they stumble through the section and leave through the back door, Donghyuck’s fingers touch Mark’s wrists gently, pulling him back. Mark, who was a step ahead, looks down at their hands.

“Mark.” He whispers, pulling again. And Mark is weak, so he turns and lets himself be guided. Donghyuck leans against the wall and uses Mark’s shirt to pull him in when he’s close enough, staring up at him when Mark is busy looking around, there could be someone out here —, “Mark.”

Mark does look at him now, and maybe he can’t see a clear image because his heart racing makes him too nervous, or because the drinks are still getting to his head, or—it doesn’t matter, anyway. Donghyuck is waiting for something, and he still looks like a dream even through the fog that clogs up Mark’s eyes, and Mark wonders how it’s even possible that he’s staring up at Mark like this, not at anyone else. His head spins and he rests his forehead against Donghyuck’s, his hands finding Donghyuck’s hips, Donghyuck’s hands still closed in fists.

Mark touches their noses together and exhales shakily, mouth parted when Donghyuck tilts his head and kisses the corner of his mouth. He does it more than once, convincing Mark, showing him he’s more than willing, and Mark finally uses a hand on Donghyuck’s lower back to pull him close and kiss him again.

It’s a bad idea , Mark thinks, feeling Donghyuck tremble against him, it’s a really bad idea .

The morning comes and, while nothing else has changed, a tightly-knit corner of Mark’s mind has been left in shambles. It’s almost unfair that the birds get to sing outside while he’s in deep, fine one moment then breathless in the next, mind racing because—he licks his lips and closes his eyes, feet tapping nervously. Donghyuck is still sleeping by the foot of his bed, where he fell asleep after he and Mark kissed one last time. It was a little less desperate, softer because they were finally home, protected by the door locked shut, and Mark remembers how Donghyuck clung to him, remembers how it felt. Mark should shake him awake, because it’s unfair that Donghyuck has done this much to him, that he’s messed this much with his head and still he gets to escape the consequences, still asleep at peace.

And how come Mark can’t forget it—how drunk was he that he would kiss a friend like that but still not qualify for a blackout, for something to wash away the memories? Maybe Mark can come to a point of honesty with himself that he’ll admit he’s not surprised it happened, but why won’t he be given the mercy of forgetting? Because now he has to live with the memory, and he’ll remember the rush of Donghyuck’s grip on his skin when Mark has to kiss a girl again.

Mark scrunches up his face—what a shame that he liked it, because now this need won’t go unnoticed, unnamed. And how dangerous it is that he feels like it could come up to the surface any time now, how dangerous that he feels like screaming about it. And though he’s so embarrassed he might die, his mind just won’t stop replaying the scenes in his head.

Maybe it’s better that Donghyuck doesn’t wake up, because the longer he sleeps, the longer Mark gets to keep things the same. Maybe he’ll open his eyes and regret it, curse Mark out, tell him he’s to blame for a terrible thing. And Mark won’t be able to do anything but take it, because he’ll be right: he was selfish, and greedy, and inappropriate. He never asked for permission, and they were drunk, and maybe it really was just something terrible, and Mark is so twisted that he’ll keep thinking about it for the rest of his life, wishing he could go back and feel it again.

And Donghyuck remembers it, too, which Mark knows because Donghyuck’s eyes seem clearer as soon as he meets Mark’s when he wakes up, as if the memories just came back. He stays in his corner under the covers like he’s bedridden, and Mark busies himself by sitting in the kitchen and pretending to eat breakfast until he thinks of something to say. When he realizes he can’t come up with anything, he goes back into his room with his head low. It’s still better to be in there than to have to face his mom when she eventually wakes up.

Donghyuck is sitting by his table, Mark’s guitar on his lap. He’s barely playing, fingers imitating accords without strumming too loud. Mark, unsure how to position himself in his own room, leans against his windowsill and stares down at his feet.

“I’m not getting any better.” Donghyuck murmurs. He’s not smiling, but he has a gentle expression when Mark turns to him.

“You’re okay.” Mark tells him honestly. He’s very talented, just annoyingly perfectionist about it. Like I am, Mark thinks.

Donghyuck lets the corner of his mouth turn up the slightest bit, “Well,” He averts his eyes and sighs, “How drunk were you?”

So they will talk about it. Mark shakes his head, “Not drunk enough.”

He hears Donghyuck chuckle, then tsk, “I’m—sorry, I guess.”

It makes Mark frown, because he shouldn’t be the one to say it, “No, I am. I was the one to—” He shrugs, “I’m the one who should tell you I’m sorry.”

“You were drunk and I pushed it.” He makes a face, “I get that. I push you too much.”

Mark stares at him, at the tired discoloration around his eyes and the tilt of his mouth, and wonders what he means, “It wasn’t your fault. Why do you think that?”

Donghyuck shrugs, “I know how I am. I get too touchy, and it can be overbearing.”

“Donghyuck, I kissed you because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” He whispers, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Donghyuck stares back, fingers still on the guitar, and it takes him a while to speak up again, “Thinking—about—”

“I have been.” Mark looks down, “Like you said, maybe I just think too much about everything.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Sorry. I know it sounds weird. This is embarrassing, but maybe I’m lonely, or something, and I took advantage of you because you’re always there. I don’t really know. Just—if you still want to be friends, it’ll—never happen again. I promise. I’ll straighten myself out.” He nods to himself, “I’ve done this, like, my entire life. I promise I’ll get it sorted out.”

Donghyuck stares at him, putting Mark’s guitar to the side, “Done what your entire life?”

“Just… what I always have. Behaved right.” He nods to himself again, “Not listened to, like…” He gestures to his head. Donghyuck frowns, and Mark makes sure to reassure that it’s not an issue, “But it’s okay. It’s not a problem.”

“It sounds like one.” Donghyuck frowns, “Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

Mark shakes his head, “Some things—it's not torture, it’s just the right thing to do. Don’t worry, it’ll be better for you, too.” He nods, “I promise.”

Donghyuck tilts his head, and he’s silent for enough time that Mark starts to feel like something’s wrong, “Do you think what we did last night was wrong?”

Mark stares at him. In his head, it’s not as simple as that—it’s not a crime, and he doesn’t think it’s fair to call it a sin; the bible has many interpretations, and he knows other places frown less at the idea, and who is he to judge. But also, could they have done it in the middle of the dance floor, uncaring? Could they tell their friends, their parents? It’s definitely difficult—it’s just that Mark can’t call it wrong. It felt, like most things with Donghyuck do, more than right.

“I understand if that’s what you think.” Mark tells him honestly.

“It’s not.” Donghyuck answers, “I want to know your opinion, though.”

Mark sucks in a breath, “I don’t really know, I guess. I just don’t want to get you into trouble. It’d be unfair and selfish of me.”

Donghyuck rests his head on his hand, “Well, I guess I’m already in trouble.” He smiles, “I always find a way of getting into it.”

“You know what I mean.” Mark shakes his head, anxious, “If we’re friends, then I should make your life better, not worse. I shouldn’t—force myself onto you, or put you in danger. I’m really sorry about that.”

“You’re not a bad thing to run from.” He tells Mark almost too honestly, making Mark avert his eyes, “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?” Mark scrunches up his face, “Nothing, hyung. Whatever your opinion really is, whatever—you’ve thought of, whatever you felt when… Well, I hope you won’t punish yourself for it. I hope you’ll give yourself some grace, because there’s enough people out there who won’t.”

Mark swallows, feeling like his eyes will start tearing up, “It’s not a bad one.” Mark tells him, “My opinion of it. It’s just… I know it’s not ideal.” He shrugs, “I thought I’d get over it. I think I still can, if—I needed to, or you needed me to. Then we could be friends like we always were, and it’d be okay. It’s not a punishment, it’s just what I should do.”

“We’ll be friends regardless.” Donghyuck reassures him, “And it will be okay regardless, too. You don’t need to hide this from me or from yourself for things to be okay. I would—” Donghyuck sighs, “It’s not an issue for me… at all. Didn’t I kiss you back?” He whispers.

Mark blinks, feeling his neck heat up, “You were—drunk.”

Donghyuck is uncaring, “I’m not drunk right now, and I would still kiss you again.”

Mark holds his breath, feeling like his heart will burst from his chest. Donghyuck would—

“So if that’s the issue, you don’t have to worry about it. You don’t have to torture yourself, or not tell me about it. I know what it’s like. You might’ve thought you wanted it badly, but I promise—not as much as me.” Donghyuck exhales, and the thing is he looks like he means it. He looks like letting this out is taking a weight off his shoulders at the same time that it is crushing him. He looks like he’s begging Mark to understand this, but Mark can’t—

“I thought,” Mark shakes his head, thinking of the pictures he saw, thinking that Donghyuck’s ex-girlfriend was beautiful, and that this doesn’t make sense, “I saw—at Jaemin’s place, these—”

“I thought that was the right thing to do at the time, too.” Donghyuck presses his lips together, “And besides, it’s not a fixed thing. It depends on who I’m into at the moment.” He shrugs, but it’s not careless, “I’m just—into you right now.”

Mark blinks, heart racing like it did last night, again under Donghyuck’s watchful gaze. He can’t believe anything he’s hearing, “You—are?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of obvious.” Donghyuck makes a face at him, “And embarrassing, so don’t stare at me too much.”

Mark has so many questions he can barely make the first one, brow furrowed as he tries to take everything in. Donghyuck—for what reason, and since when, and in hopes of what? And how can he say it this nonchalantly, this gently? Mark struggles to get even a word out.

“Is that stressing you out more?” Donghyuck laughs.

Mark shakes his head, “I’m just—” He swallows, “I just don’t know what to say. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

If—maybe if Donghyuck came to Mark and opened his heart about how he’s into some other guy, someone who’s his match, then maybe—he’d think that makes sense. But this doesn’t, it feels surreal, or—

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” Donghyuck shrugs, “You can really mess with someone’s head. You’re trouble, kind of.”

“Me?” Mark asks, stunned.

Donghyuck cackles, and at least that’s good to see, “In a way.” He looks at Mark with a smile, “You’re trouble for me, yeah.”

Mark breathes out. Though he did expect this conversation would be difficult, he didn’t know he’d be this overwhelmed. He doesn’t know what to think, “Uh. I’m gonna sit on my bed.”

Donghyuck laughs, watching Mark settle down on the edge of his bed and rest his elbows on his knees like he’s thinking deeply about all of this, “Take your time.”

But Mark doesn’t, because he suddenly has a lot to say, “This—but you’re okay?”

Donghyuck nods, “I’ve had some time to get used to it.”

“I’m, like,” Mark gestures around, “Am I—making your life difficult, should I—”

Donghyuck shakes his head, “You aren’t. You just—” he shrugs, “Shake it up a little, I guess.”

Mark nods, “Uh.” He sighs, “Okay.”

Donghyuck smiles, “What about you?”

“Me?” Mark blinks, “Well,” He looks around the room, trying to think of a way to put it into words, “You—” He nods to himself, stopping himself because, ultimately, anything he says will be too much.

“I’m so hot that ‘you can’t stop thinking about kissing me’?” Donghyuck whispers, smiling.

Mark closes his eyes, “Don’t—just shut up.”

“Sorry, but I don’t think I can. This is a big moment for me.” He murmurs, “A lot of determination got me this far, and now you want to kiss me.”

Mark sighs, and then laughs incredulously because what else can he even do.

“But, honestly.” Donghyuck turns to him, “Nothing you did was unwanted. Even if we were drunk, it still—it’s a detail that didn’t matter, because I’m sober now and I’m still here, telling you all of this.”

Mark nods, quietly trying to assemble everything.

“What I mean is that I liked it.” Donghyuck smiles, “In my end, everything is fine. We can still be friends, and—if you ever wanted to do something like that again… I’d be down. It’s honestly what I want.” Donghyuck crosses his arms, “But it’s okay if it’s not what you want.”

Mark stares at him, eyes a little wide. It’s not an indirect question he has an answer to, mostly because he never thought this was even feasible—doing it again. When? And with what frequency? And to what point? The thought of kissing Donghyuck again does give Mark a buzz, but the question that still stands for him is what that would mean, both in practice and for Mark’s self-understanding, and how he can deal with the world of possibilities that suddenly opens up to him when Donghyuck is this willing to give Mark things he tries so hard to suppress.

“But—if you think there might be a part of you that’s… interested, if you think it’s what you want, too, and you’re scared, just know—you should get to do something just for the sake of it if it’s what you want. You should get to be selfish sometimes.”

Mark sighs, “I’m selfish a lot of the time.”

“You’re not.” Donghyuck shakes his head, “I don’t know who’s this terrible person that you describe when you talk about yourself, but it’s not you. It’s not the person I see every day.” Mark swallows drily, “What I’m trying to tell you is if you want to kiss me, then you should kiss me, because I want it, too, and it doesn’t have to be this absurd thing. If it’s what you want, then you’ve got it.”

Mark, breathless, stares at Donghyuck. He wishes he were able to see things this simply, “I don’t know what to think.”

“I’d tell you not to think too much, but I know that’s impossible.” Donghyuck smiles, “I know it sounds a little crazy, but we’ve got all this time, right? We could kill it together, just—in a different way.” He shrugs, “No one needs to know. We could not give a shit about anything else.”

Mark needs to think about it for a week, because it turns out that even if he was the one to take the first step that night, he now feels like he’s ten steps behind, overwhelmed and terribly nervous. And it’s a big issue, the fact that no one can know, because he’s trapped and forced to talk to his walls as consequence. He even tries to write something down, and maybe something like that could even double as the piece of writing Donghyuck asked for, but Mark doesn’t want to have any evidence of his thoughts. Then, when his own voice gets on his nerves, he ends up right at the source of his problems.

“You’re the only one I can talk to about this.” He tells Donghyuck like he’s angry, arms crossed over his giant jacket. It seems like it’s gotten even colder. Donghyuck, who seems to have just arrived at home, is wearing a coat that comes up to his chin, a fuzzy hat that nearly covers his eyes, and staring at Mark with his eyes small.

“Okay.”

They sit in Donghyuck’s backyard because no one’s home, and because Donghyuck likes to look at the snow when it’s this high.

“I can’t stop—thinking.” Mark tells him, staring at his own shoes.

“I thought so.” Donghyuck’s voice is muffled.

“And I’m really tired. I’ve just—exhausted myself like I always do, and now I’m just done. And—” He shakes his head, gathering up courage. Fuck everything else, he just needs to know, “If—you still want… If you’d still—kiss me, I want you to do it right now.”

Donghyuck blinks, and Mark nods in confirmation.

“It’s useless to think so much. I just want to do it and see how I’ll feel. And if—” He shakes his head, “I don’t know. But I just need to know this right now.”

Donghyuck looks at Mark for a few seconds before uncovering his mouth, leaning forward and pecking his lips. Mark blinks, staring at Donghyuck’s face up close like he hadn’t prompted this exact thing with his begging. Donghyuck is watching him, “Is this okay?” He whispers.

Mark nods quietly, and Donghyuck locks their lips again. This time Mark stills, closing his eyes and scrunching up the fabric of his own jacket in his fist. His stomach turns at the faint touch of his lips, even if he was aware it was coming, even if he felt them just now. It’s still just a surreal thing to experience. Donghyuck has a hand on Mark’s chest, resting the tips of his fingers there gently as if ready to retreat. His nose is cold against Mark’s cheek, and that’s what gets him to move.

Mark lifts his hands and cups Donghyuck’s face, bringing him closer at the same time Donghyuck sighs. Donghyuck moves his lips so slowly, so gently that Mark can barely believe it’s him under his hands. But other than that, it’s undeniable—that’s Donghyuck all around him, the faint nicotine smell that clings to him when he’s stressed and that still reminds Mark of summer; those are Donghyuck’s hands slowly making their way up Mark’s chest, gripping Mark’s jacket like he does when they play-fight, fingers searching; it’s his tongue touching Mark’s, leaving behind the taste and the heat of his mouth. It’s his body inching closer, his hair tickling Mark’s skin, his throat making a low sound when Mark sucks on his tongue.

Before, Mark thought that if his eyes were well-shut and his hands tame, maybe it wouldn’t be too different from kissing a girl. He thought his thoughts could be the result of being young and deprived of—something, not having touched anyone like this in a while, and that he’d be able to write it off as one more thing he once got wrong, one more way drinking too much gets to his head. But as it is, it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, at least while this conscious, and he has to admit that the feeling doesn’t come despite Donghyuck, but because of him. It’s a scary thought.

Donghyuck lowers Mark’s hand from his own face and wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Mark loses balance and holds his waist to gain it back, feeling his neck heat up at the shape under his fingers now that he’s sober, aware. Donghyuck’s body; his tan skin, his long legs and his small frame; the sweat glistening on his clavicules when he’s under the sun, the silhouette of his waist under white shirts, his boyish ways. Mark wants him so bad it hurts. Admitting it makes Mark’s heart race even more.

Donghyuck is the one to pull away and exhale shakily against Mark’s lips, eyes wide. Mark licks his lips and swallows, nodding slightly at the question apparent in Donghyuck’s eyes.

“Yeah.” Mark whispers, nodding again, because he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck whispers back, hand warming up the side of his face. Mark stares at him, at his bent hat, his pink nose, and his eyes, worried like they’ve been since Mark started avoiding him; at his lips, the ones Mark kissed just now, the ones Mark made turn this color, the ones Mark turned this slick; he thinks of how much better things are when Donghyuck is around and how he can’t have it any other way, and he leans forward and kisses Donghyuck again.

Donghyuck lets him, smiling against his lips.

It’s winter, and the cold can’t touch Mark.

“Kiss me,” Donghyuck whispers, pulling on Mark’s hair to guide him back to his mouth. Mark is busy kissing his neck, and he doesn’t seem to listen, “Mark.”

“Yeah.” Mark comes up and kisses him again. Donghyuck sighs against his lips like he always does, like he’s been waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief. His hands never stop touching Mark—it’s something Mark notices now. His fingers will trace patterns on Mark’s skin, connect his moles; his feet will playfully knock onto Mark’s under tables, under blankets; he will glue his shoulders to Mark’s when they’re sat side by side, like being sat this close isn’t close enough. It’s how Donghyuck will call for his attention, too, resting his head on Mark’s shoulder and pinching his skin, touches constant until Mark gets the hint and does something about it. It makes Mark smile often.

It felt very different in the beginning: they were too aware, too used to each other, and sometimes too embarrassed to act like it was an usual thing, like it wasn’t mind-blowingly new and fresh. Mark tiptoed around Donghyuck the first couple of days, careful and timid, unsure of when he was allowed to reach out and touch, or where Donghyuck’s limits stood, or what was expected of him. Donghyuck told him they should be selfish, he told him they shouldn’t care about anyone else, but what was Mark supposed to do, then? It felt easier to follow rules, to do whatever was asked of him, instead now he had to think about what he wanted, and what did he want? What did he want from Donghyuck, and what did he want this to be?

Donghyuck was never this hesitant. He did hold back in the beginning, but he told Mark later on that it was for his sake only; He didn’t want to push it, not when Mark had just figured out something important about himself. As soon as he felt it was appropriate, Donghyuck did exactly as he said: whatever he wanted. Though it was slightly overwhelming in the beginning, Mark prefers that kind of posture from Donghyuck, because it feels like something he can’t mess up: Donghyuck asks for whatever he wants whenever he wants it, and he helps Mark do the same, letting him choose, asking him well thought-out questions. Mark never has to feel unsure about anything with him. They work well like this. It’s still new, and it’s still drastic, but in truth, Mark can’t say he’s ever felt this excited about waking up the next day.

Mark feels confident in a way he never has before. Donghyuck wants him—he stares at him like he does, touches him like he does, kisses him like he does. Maybe Donghyuck can see something beautiful amongst everything Mark only ever sees under a bad light. And he tells Mark so, that he thinks Mark is handsome when he’s just woken up, and when he’s focused on the news, and when he’s tired after an extra shift. It’s never-ending, and Mark feels his cheeks get hot every single time, especially when Donghyuck is, like he is most of the time, so honest.

Mark mostly ignores what it means for him to like kissing a boy so much, maybe because Donghyuck is the only one who knows this about him and, like this, it doesn’t feel like this huge thing, but like something that’s just their own, something that others wouldn’t understand. In his head, it’s only ever a good thing—the issue is, truly, everyone else. He expresses his worries sparsely:

“Doesn’t it scare you sometimes?” He asks Donghyuck through a whisper. They’re in his bed and it’s late; Donghyuck’s head is already cushioned on his shoulder, and the patterns he draws on Mark’s arm tell Mark he’ll fall asleep quickly.

Mark feels him nod, “All the time.” Donghyuck answers in a small voice, “But maybe not right now.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not thinking about anything,” He pinches Mark’s skin gently, “Just that I like being next to you.”

Mark has never felt anything like this. It feels like the truest thing he’s ever done, in a way—before it was a dream, something he conjured up in the depths of his mind and hid. They made it into something palpable, something so his and Donghyuck’s, unlike any other thing. He’s never trusted someone this much, nor has he been given this much trust. It’s solid, and it’s true, and life should always feel like this, he thinks. It’s a thrill, getting to wake up tomorrow and do it again. He feels like the luckiest guy in the neighborhood, like he’s won the lottery they talked about often—though he wouldn’t tell Donghyuck that, not outright like this. His cheeks feel warm at the thought. Donghyuck, on the other hand, seems to be very comfortable being vulnerable and inquisitive in front of Mark. In return, Mark admires how confident he is, like he always has.

“How do you rate my kissing?” Donghyuck asks him when they’re tucked away in a corner of Mark’s room, sounding genuinely curious. Mark, who’s in the middle of fixing his CD player, laughs at the innocent tone in Donghyuck’s question. And when he looks up at him, Donghyuck does look like he’s investigating something important, even if he’s sitting cross-legged like a kid, “I wanna know.”

Mark shakes his head, “What kind of question is that?”

“I want to show you that I’m open for constructive feedback.” He says like he’s trying to sell Mark a product.

“If you kissed weirdly, then I would’ve already told you about it.” Mark shrugs, “I like it how it is. I don’t have any criticisms.”

Donghyuck hums, “But do you think that I could… improve?”

Mark smiles, “I don’t know what you could possibly do. Like, extra moves?”

Donghyuck gestures around him like there are endless possibilities, “I don’t know! Who knows what’s out there!”

“I don’t even want to know.” Mark shakes his head, “Anyway, I don’t care about that, or about what other people are doing. You’re fine, don’t worry.”

Donghyuck leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth. Mark smiles, watching as the screw he was working on tightening rolls to the floor.

Donghyuck sighs dreamily, “I’m so embarrassingly into you. Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

Mark laughs, and his cheeks must be red again, he can feel it happen, “Nah.”

“You should. This is a lot for a young boy like me.”

Mark sighs, because he knows Donghyuck knows this makes Mark more embarrassed than it’s ever made him.

“Are you just bored?” Mark asks him with an eyebrow raise.

Donghyuck scrunches up his face, “Yes!”

Mark tries hard to keep up. They still go out during the day when they can, even if both of their jobs become substantially more demanding, and they still go out at night, even if they have to be more careful around their fifth drinks. But amongst everything else, Mark’s house becomes their favorite place, which even a bored Donghyuck would agree on. Sometimes Mark worries that his mother could be suspicious of something given the frequency of his stays, but still she seems, more than anything else, happy and cheerful when Donghyuck visits; maybe because she gets to pamper another boy like she did Mark’s older brother. Mark pretends to be jealous of the attention Donghyuck gets to make them laugh, when really it warms his heart.

And more than anything, their new shared hobby becomes the expected. Maybe Mark could say it’s upsetting that they don’t really shred much anymore, since it’d started to grow on him and they’d gotten used to enjoying the few minutes of sunlight they get in the park (hard to visit now, when Jaemin could show up there any second); he could say it was fun hanging out with the group sometimes, that the way things went was a pity; that his guitar and records are piling up dust, things they loved to enjoy together; he could say he misses how everything was before everything changed but, truly, the memories would merit a sympathetic glance at most if compared to this.

Mark is addicted: to Donghyuck’s lips on his, to his taste, or maybe their taste together; to the sighs he gets to hear so close to his ear when his mouth is on Donghyuck’s neck, and to the way Donghyuck’s face scrunches up when Mark does something right. To the shape of Donghyuck’s body underneath his hands, to the warmth of his skin, to the moles he can count on his neck and arms. They’re so glued together that Mark’s lips often feel like they’re charged with electricity, that he feels like he’d know Donghyuck’s touch blindly.

And Donghyuck makes him crazy, because it’s exactly when Mark gets comfortable that he goes a step ahead, biting and touching underneath shirts and rutting closer.

“Aish.” Mark complains, holding Donghyuck’s wrist when his hands get too curious. Donghyuck, with his mouth still millimeters away from Mark’s, kisses the corner of his mouth continuously, smiling.

“Are you saving yourself for marriage?” He asks, and Mark loves to hear his voice like this, raspy and quiet. Mark closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed again, grip on Donghyuck’s hands faltering, “You do a bad job of it.” He whispers.

Mark isn’t particularly interested in being a saint, but the idea of going any further does scare him. Maybe it’s just because everything about this, this thing that they do, feels so radical to Mark, so utterly otherworldly that each new step is unknown, terrifying. Or maybe it’s because it’s Donghyuck, and it’s dumb but Mark wants him to be so surprised, to be so thoroughly pleased and happy, and that could be difficult when Mark doesn’t know how to touch him right, how to make the most of it. He doesn’t want to waste Donghyuck’s time.

This train of thought is a funny contradiction, though, because Mark knows Donghyuck wouldn’t need to know a thing about what Mark likes to make it the best thing he’s ever felt. The fact that it’s him, the thrill it gives Mark, that would be more than enough. And maybe Donghyuck even thinks the same. But as it is, Mark can’t build up the courage to ask him, and things go on as usual—their kissing, and their time spent together, and Mark’s extra time in the shower, and Mark’s dreams.

“Again?” Donghyuck smiles, but he’s helping Mark pick out radishes in the supermarket, so Mark shushes him, “Did you always dream of me this much?” He whispers.

Mark shakes his head, but the true answer is yes, “Stop it. What else do we need?”

“I like it. It makes sense that I visit and bother you in your dreams, too.” He looks over at Mark while passing him the list, “So you can’t forget me.”

As if Mark ever could. Everything else feels so boring nowadays; if work was redundant and repetitive before, it’s intolerable now. If other people’s plans for him felt restrictive and uninteresting then, Mark really won’t listen to what anyone else has to say now. He knows what he wants, and it’s simply this. Nothing else.

He doesn’t voice these thoughts to Donghyuck, who tries to get them out of him anyway, like he does with everything:

“I like to hear you.” Donghyuck murmurs when he notices Mark is holding back while Donghyuck bites his neck, while he sucks on the skin just like how Mark likes it. Mark is holding his hips with all of his strength, “You don’t have to be quiet.”

Mark exhales like he was holding in his breath, “Other people live here.” He reminds him.

“It’s late.” Donghyuck insists while readjusting himself in Mark’s lap, making Mark dig his nails into his skin, “Only loud enough so I can hear you.”

Mark smiles and chuckles breathlessly, nudging him, “This is a lot of pressure. Every noise I make will be artificial now.”

Donghyuck huffs and faces him again, “Then talk to me.” He traces Mark’s jaw, whispering, “Tell me how much you like me.”

Mark laughs through his nose, watching Donghyuck frown at his reaction, “Is that what you want to do now?”

“Yes.” Donghyuck says indignantly, “Tell me what you like about me.”

Everything, “Most things.” He whispers, staring at Donghyuck’s lips.

Donghyuck pouts, resting his forehead against Mark’s, “Which?”

“Hm.” Mark tries to think, pretending Donghyuck isn’t sitting on his lap to make it easier, “I like your humor, your musical talents… Your confidence… A lot of things.”

“I don’t care about any of that. That’s not sexy at all.” Donghyuck complains, “Remember when you called me handsome? Do I have to get you drunk to hear it again?”

Mark smiles, “But you already know that that’s what I think.”

Donghyuck straightens up and holds Mark’s chin, staring at Mark’s lips, “I wanna hear it again.”

“You’re really handsome.” Mark tells him, feeling his neck get warm, “I want May to come quicker because you look really good under the sun.” He brushes his thumb against Donghyuck’s cheekbone, where he’ll get sunburns again soon, “I wanted to kiss you all the time back then.”

“And you still do.”

“I still do.”

Donghyuck nods, smiling like he’s satisfied, and Mark traces the shape it leaves behind on his cheek, “Okay.” He whispers.

The summer does come quickly, because suddenly Mark is planning what to give Donghyuck for his birthday. He sleeps on it for weeks, then settles on a video game console just like his, which he knows Donghyuck will love. Then he thinks some more.

Maybe Mark is a silly person, because he thinks a simple present like the one he chose is not enough. He’ll surprise Donghyuck along with his family, a dinner he’s already looking forward to, but maybe that’s not enough either. Every single thing he can think of seems like an understatement, mostly because it feels like this is his one chance at proving Donghyuck’s importance in his life, especially since he has such a hard time doing so with words—especially since Donghyuck, so expressive and warm, clearly wishes Mark did so more often.

Maybe he should write him a letter—maybe then it’d be easier to express what he wants to say without stuttering, without making a fool of himself, but it’s also possible that that would be too much. Mark frowns. Everything is either too much or not enough.

In his quest, he walks around shopping malls and street markets, arms crossed because, honestly, this is annoying, and he can’t believe birthdays happen every year, and maybe he should start thinking ahead because next year’s has to be even better—he’s close to giving up when he spots Renjun on the opposite side of the street, walking alone. Mark stops. They haven’t talked at all, and it’s been months now, which must be why he feels this dejected at the sight. Any residual second-hand anger is gone now, and Mark just wishes they hadn’t been this affected by something that had nothing to do with either of them. Mark still doesn’t even know what the fight was about.

Renjun spots him quickly, too, because he’s always quick to realize someone is staring at him. He has a delayed reaction, eventually waving to Mark, though it seems more like an acknowledgement than an invitation or a reach-out. Mark waves back, expression closed-off because this feels different, difficult—there’s so much Renjun doesn’t know. Even if they were friends again, what would Mark even say? How much would he have to keep from him, when before he knew more about Mark than Mark himself? For a moment, he feels like someone else, like Renjun was stuck in time somehow while Mark went away somewhere far, somewhere where everything shimmers in the light, where the things that scare him don’t seem all-consuming, and he wants to tell Renjun everything about it at the same time that he doesn’t. Still—what would Renjun think of him? His birthday passed and Mark never said anything, though he did try to call, but just once.

He lets Renjun walk away. He goes back home empty-handed, but at least it doesn’t bother him as much anymore, because he knows he tried. When Donghyuck’s birthday comes, Mark’s pager beeps right as he wakes up. Mark smiles while getting ready for work:

07734 (hello, but upside down and rotated)

411111 (hiiiii)

Maybe Mark should get him a new pager, because the newer ones can display letters; Donghyuck would have a field day if he could send him entire sentences. He must know Mark remembers his birthday, and this must just be an effort he puts in to make sure he’s congratulated as soon as he’s up. And though they’ll see each other in a few hours, Mark calls him during lunch, knowing he’ll be home at this time.

“It’s the middle of my birthday.” Donghyuck reminds him, “Half a day passed!”

Mark smiles, fiddling with the phone’s cable, “It’s midday, and I have a job.”

“You have two jobs.” Donghyuck sighs, “Tell me happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Donghyuck. I hope this is a good year in your life.”

“Hm.” Donghyuck hums, “Kind of dull, but I guess I’ll take it.”

Mark rolls his eyes, turning to the wall and whispering with a smile, “Happy birthday, Hyuck. I like having you around, or whatever. Your gift cost me half a monthly salary.”

“Yes!”

The dinner is good, and Donghyuck’s cake, decorated by his siblings, makes him laugh the hardest Mark has ever seen. The kids also get everyone to wear party hats, and Donghyuck is wearing his and sticking out his tongue at Mark when Mark takes a picture of him with his mom’s camera. I look stupid! , he complains later. He loves all of his gifts, including the unflattering shirts his parents give him earnestly and the crafted pieces of paper his sister hands him, and Mark gets to indulge in his gratitude when, in his room, he opens Mark’s gift. He did know it was something expensive, but he’s stunned at the real thing, punching Mark’s arm, I hope you’re not expecting something like this on your birthday, I really can’t pay for nice things! What the hell! 

Mark shakes his head while pretending he isn’t preening at the reaction, laughing when Donghyuck leaves the console behind to throw himself into a hug.

“Thank you. You’re such an idiot.” Donghyuck murmurs, arms wrapped around his neck. Mark smiles, hugging his waist close because he doesn’t have to pretend not to want this, burrowing his nose into his hair because Donghyuck’s smell is good, addictive, “You’ll have to come over a lot to play with me.”

Mark does, though they do lose focus a lot, mostly because Mark is more fixated on Donghyuck’s lips, on his body, than he’s ever been. They have to be more careful in Donghyuck’s house, and Mark knows this, but Donghyuck even has to push him away sometimes, laughing abashedly. Maybe there was some kind of tension that was building up without Mark even noticing, because suddenly, every single moment they touch feels like it’s preceding something else. It’s when Mark decides that Donghyuck’s last gift doesn’t have to be bought.

“Your teeth are so sharp.” Donghyuck murmurs, rolling his neck when Mark scrapes his teeth behind his ear, “Ah.” He complains, but he still sounds out of breath, “Did you chip them as a kid?”

“Shut up.” Mark whispers, trailing his lips back to Donghyuck’s, kissing him because this is still the best way to get him to be quiet. Mark is enthusiastic, and no matter the speed he knows Donghyuck will always match him, using just as much tongue, touching just as much. Because of this, he thinks maybe he will be able to get the message across without saying anything this time. But soon enough Mark feels Donghyuck laugh against his lips.

“What?” Mark murmurs.

Donghyuck is smiling, leaving Mark to kiss the corner of his mouth, “You’re a little intense today.”

Mark sighs against his cheek, pulling back, “Well, I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

Donghyuck’s hair is tousled, messy from rubbing up against the sheets so much, and Mark smooths down the pieces that frame his face when he stares up at Mark with a squint, “Hm.”

Mark kisses his pink lips again, “I kind of wanted to do something else today.”

Donghyuck uses a hand to pull his hips down against his own, “Like what?”

Mark exhales shakily at the feeling, smiling when Donghyuck bites his chin, “I don’t know. Just—” He closes his eyes when Donghyuck’s fingers sneak underneath his shirt, “Just whatever.”

It’s new, but it’s not unknown, because the same fingers Donghyuck used to pull on his hair are now the ones touching him, making him gasp right next to Donghyuck’s ear. Mark was right before, when he thought that it would feel good regardless of how little they know about what they’re doing; it’s not hard to take Donghyuck’s hints, to speed up when his hand is gripping Mark’s arm, to be daring when he’s quiet, to kiss his parted lips again when he’s close, even if they fail to keep a rhythm and end up just panting against each other’s lips.

Safe to say, it’s their new favorite pastime. Mark loses focus at work and counts down the minutes to go home, or to Donghyuck’s basement, or to the restroom of a shitty club. Donghyuck is the same, he says, but Mark doesn’t know the extent of it, given that he doesn’t even let Donghyuck talk much most of the time. In compensation, he gets them better pagers.

02: H E L L O  M A R K !

T H I S  I S  F U N !  T H A N K  Y O U !

01: H E L L O   D O N G H Y U C K

W E   S H O U L D  G E T  D R U N K

02: H E L L  Y E S !

G E T  S O J U !

They get soju and a hotel room in another city, telling their parents they’re visiting friends. It has two beds and they take up one, leaving the bottles forgotten on the side tables as soon as they feel buzzed enough. Donghyuck spreads over one and hides his laughter beneath his hands, eyes crinkled and cheeks flushed red. Mark smiles at him from his spot, where his lips leave trails of kisses on Donghyuck’s stomach and where his teeth bite plump skin. There’s so much of him that Mark feels dizzy; he wants to touch every single centimeter, every single patch of skin, every single mole. Mark slowly makes his way up to where his chest is hot to the touch. He rests his cheek against it and spreads a hand over the skin.

“You feel so good.” Mark murmurs, “I like—” He frowns, trying to create a sentence, “When you first—the first few weeks, when you’d lift your shirt up, and we were out at the park, I’d feel warm all over.” Donghyuck laughs underneath him again, “Because you’d look so… good, and so tan, and you still do, and… I was going to say I love your skin, but… that sounds really weird…”

“My skin?” Donghyuck asks, pinching Mark’s back. Mark hums, continuing his exploration until he’s kissing Donghyuck’s shoulder, feeling Donghyuck’s hands run down his back, “It does sound weird.”

“Your body…” Mark nudges his cheek to kiss his jaw, “Everything…” He feels Donghyuck sigh, “And I’d think that you were lucky because girls were probably all over you…”

Donghyuck chuckles, “You’re all over me now.”

“I am.” Mark says with a smile, happy, “And now I’m the one who’s lucky.”

“Woah.” Donghyuck sighs again, shaking his head and running his fingers through Mark’s hair, “I should get you drunk, like, every day.”

Sure , Mark thinks, then he kisses Donghyuck again, licking the peach flavor off his lips, hand messing with Donghyuck’s underwear because he wants to get him off again.

Mark daydreams about that night for the next few weeks, and he’s still picturing it in his head when he and Donghyuck spend a day off together in a park, this time in Mark’s neighborhood and under cooling trees. Donghyuck, lying with his head right next to Mark’s lap, is spread over the grass like he was over the bed that day, hair just as tousled. The memories overstimulate Mark, who was supposed to be writing. The notebook on his lap is practically empty. He sighs and brushes off the white cast the sunscreen left on Donghyuck’s cheeks.

“Maybe we could go somewhere.” Donghyuck thinks out loud, “Somewhere fun. The beach, maybe.”

Mark hums, “That’d be nice. My mom will complain, though, you know she thinks you’re careless with your money. She says I’m falling under your influence.”

Donghyuck laughs through his nose, “Well, she was the one to force me to buy this expensive ass sunscreen, so I think I’m the victim here.”

Mark squeezes the tip of his nose, “It’s so you won’t shed your skin like a snake.”

“I will be doing a lot of skin shedding when we go to the beach.” He decides, “What about Jeju?”

“I’ve never been, but it must be nice.” Mark comments while doodling on the edge of the page, “Just tell me when, because my brother will visit soon and I’ll have to be home.”

Donghyuck stares up at him, “Sure, but what do you mean you’ve never been?” Donghyuck is more enthusiastic now, “Then we really have to go. I grew up there!”

“You did?” Mark turns to him. When he thinks about it, he realizes they never talked much about their childhoods, “I didn’t know that. It must’ve been awesome.”

“It was. I really liked it there, but it’s a distant memory now. I came here when I was twelve.”

“Your entire childhood was spent by the sea. That’s so cool.” He runs his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair discreetly, “I think I was still in New York when I was twelve.”

“What the hell,” Donghyuck laughs, “You lived in New York? That’s ridiculous. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Well, I don’t know. There’s nothing to say.”

“I doubt that. Is it like in the movies?”

Mark shrugs, but he does think it’s cute that Donghyuck is this interested, “Kind of. I guess Times Square is the same, but I didn’t really live near there.”

Donghyuck sighs, “I don’t like not knowing things about you. You should tell me everything.” He sneaks a glance at Mark, “You’ll have to tell me everything when we travel.”

“Sure.” Mark nods, smiling, “I just don’t know if I’ll have much to say.” Then he remembers he never told Donghyuck about seeing Renjun again, “Well, I guess there’s something—I saw Renjun again, when I went out to buy your gift. We just waved from afar, but it was super weird.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck purses his lips, “You really haven’t talked at all since then?”

“No.” Mark sighs, “It’s funny, because when he first befriended Jaemin I thought Renjun might prefer him over me eventually. And now he really does.”

“Tsk,” Donghyuck sighs, too, “Don’t take your silly thoughts as fact. You guys didn’t even fight—it was a misunderstanding, and he must be just as upset as you are. I think he’ll come around, or maybe you could talk to him—” Mark huffs and averts his eyes, “Aish, stop with the attitude! I was going to say you could talk to him if it makes you feel better. There’s no reason to distance yourself from a good friend. But then again, at the end of the day, it’s your call.”

Mark sits criss-cross and rests his head on his hand, “Well, I don’t know if he thinks I’m a good friend. Maybe I haven’t been one for him.”

“You could wonder for the rest of your life, or you could talk to him.”

Mark side-eyes Donghyuck and smiles, shaking his head, “Thanks. Wise beyond your years, you are.”

“I sure am.” Donghyuck smiles back, but they don’t talk about Jaemin, or about the fact that Donghyuck hasn’t done the same. But then again, there’s a weight to their argument that isn’t present when they talk about Renjun and Mark’s clash; there’s a cloud over the subject that seems to make Donghyuck less candid, more reserved, and Mark is not sure he’s allowed to ask for an explanation. Instead he gives Donghyuck space each time Jaemin comes up in conversation, just in case it’s what Donghyuck needs to finally sigh and tell Mark what’s bothering him, just in case it’s a safe, sealed moment in time that makes Donghyuck feel like he can share whatever he wants, that Mark is always willing to be there and to listen.

But he doesn’t say anything, so Mark pats his head and goes back to his notebook.

The plans for their trip are made slowly over the next few weeks, mostly consisting of Donghyuck telling Mark exactly where they should eat, exactly where they should sleep. Mark writes it all down, because then at least it’s something to write, but nothing is yet set in stone. They think sometime after Mark’s birthday should be good.

“Your birthday.” Donghyuck sighs, “I should get you a very good gift.”

Mark, with his head on his pillow, stares at the ceiling and thinks, “Hm. Sneakers?”

“Is that what you want?” Donghyuck peeks into his line of vision. Mark smiles, nodding, “Okay. But that’s kind of lame.”

“Sneakers are really cool.”

“But as a gift…” Donghyuck makes a face, fingers tapping Mark’s chest, “I wanted it to have a little more heart.”

“You can put a very nice note on top of the box.” Mark turns to him, “With a sticker, or something. I’d like that.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, “I hate it. Ugh, I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“It’s not like it’s a big deal, though. You could give me something small and I’d like it anyway.”

Donghyuck smiles, scooting closer, “A kiss?”

Mark tsks, “Ah, that’s too small. I’d like a little more effort.”

“I could put in more effort.” Donghyuck leans over him, nudging their noses together. Mark closes his eyes, smiling when Donghyuck licks his lower lip playfully, kissing back when Donghyuck presses their lips together. Truth is, Mark wouldn’t mind it if this were his gift. He’d be fine taking this in the quiet of his room over any priceful thing. Mark is thinking of this and threading his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair, pulling him closer when the door to his room opens.

The sound makes Donghyuck pull back quickly, sitting up and away from Mark. Still his lips are red and his eyes wide, expression terrified, and this image of him gives him away if nothing else did before. Mark, with slower reflexes, lets the hand that was in his hair fall to his chest, staring at Donghyuck before slowly turning to his door, realizing it’s his brother, who has apparently just arrived, that is staring at them like he’s seen the supernatural.

“Hyung.” Mark exhales, swallowing when his mouth is suddenly dry. This is really not a situation that he can make excuses for, not if Yijin is staring at him like this. He feels his heart racing in his fingertips, embarrassment coloring his cheeks, and he wants to turn to Donghyuck again, “I thought—we’d pick you up—”

“My connecting flight was rescheduled.” Yijin tells him, though not impolitely, and he bows his head toward Donghyuck, “Hello.”

At least Mark can turn to Donghyuck now, but the sight doesn’t make him any less agitated. Donghyuck is standing further away, by the foot of Mark’s bed, and he looks like all color has left his face, like he’s stuck in a frozen state. Mark furrows his brow when Donghyuck doesn’t even answer his brother, as if he didn’t hear him. Mark’s fingers flex; he wants to reach out and bring him closer again, because if he’s nervous like he was that day in the alleyway then Mark can help him calm down, and then he can tell him that this isn’t the worst it could be, that his brother won’t hurt them. He wants to reassure him like Donghyuck has done for Mark so many times, but it’s like Donghyuck is stuck. His hand suddenly flies to his chest, and Mark decides that this is enough.

“Donghyuck—”

“I’ll—wait downstairs.”

Mark reaches for Donghyuck’s arm before Yijin has even left the room, going over to his side and pulling him down to make him sit on the bed again. He places his hand over Donghyuck’s, holding it and squeezing it, “Donghyuck.” Donghyuck is staring at the floor, expression still alarmed, “Look at me.”

Donghyuck doesn’t look up, “I should—” His voice is shaky, “I’ll go home.”

Mark cups his face, “Look at me. Can you breathe?”

Donghyuck nods into Mark’s hands, but it’s not true, not if his breathing patterns are so irregular, not if he’s practically gasping, “Sorry. I’m going.”

“You can stay. I want you to stay.” Mark insists, “I’ll—talk to him, I don’t know what he’s thinking but I know he’s not a violent person, so you can stay, and—”

“I can’t—I can’t, I have to—” Donghyuck shakes his head, pushing Mark’s hands away from his face, and Mark feels panicked because he feels how Donghyuck’s own hands are shaking, “I need to go home.”

He’s up and out of Mark’s room, then out of Mark’s house, before Mark can reach him; even if he runs down the stairs after him, even if he tries to stop him, even if he tells him that if Donghyuck really wants to go then he’ll call him a cab, or that he could drive him, that—.

Donghyuck is gone, having pushed away Mark’s hands from his body enough times that Mark thought he should let him be. He stares at the door for what feels like an entire hour, wondering if he should go after him, or if he should call his pager just to show that he’s there, or if he should call his mom to know when he arrives home. He’s frozen until his brother touches his shoulder.

“Come sit down.”

Yijin leads him to the kitchen where he’s making tea. Mark sits on the far end of the table and hunches in his shoulders, lips parted so he can breathe. He’s nauseated, his throat closed, and he really wishes Yijin wouldn’t say anything. It’s one more thing he’ll have to face. Mark knows it all word for word already: he’s delved into the realm of shame and self-hatred all by himself in the past, making him shut his mouth and his eyes out of fear. He’s pitied himself and pictured terrible outcomes, reprehensive looks directed toward him for the rest of his life. He doesn’t want to hear it all again, nor does he want to be reminded that it could still come true. He doesn’t think his brother would—but fear takes over because of how much Mark doesn’t want to go back; not to that state of mind, and not to that kind of denial, and not to a life without what he and Donghyuck have. He can’t focus, tapping his fingers and wondering if Donghyuck is okay.

A part of him, one that is so far beyond caring about propriety, is indignant, almost offended, because how could someone be this indelicate, how could someone walk in and burst their bubble like it’s not this unique thing, like it’s not the one thing Mark gets to call his. And now he feels like everything is teetering on an edge, like something so true and bright is brittle again, like it was when Mark worried himself to death. He doesn’t want to have to hurt himself over something good again, nor does he want Donghyuck to hurt so much. He wishes he could put it into words for Yijin, he wishes he were able to show it to him, that it isn’t this awful thing, because how could it be when Mark is this happy. Will that matter for him?

“Please breathe, Minhyung.” Yijin tells him, “I’m making you tea, not picking a fight. Do you still like it sweetened?”

Mark sighs shakily, nodding slowly, “I do.” Yijin usually makes fun of him for his sweet tooth, but this time he adds two spoons of sugar to Mark’s cup in silence. Mark swallows as he takes the cup he’s offered, because they’ll have to talk now.

Yijin is frowning across from him, “I’ll ask straight away, because you’re nervous enough as it is. Was that your… boyfriend?”

Mark shakes his head quickly, “It’s not—like that. It’s just… it’s just for fun.” Mark nods to himself, “It’s recent, and we’re careful, and—it’s something to pass the time, that’s all.”

Mark feels like a liar. How careful are they, really? How shallow is it, if they have to risk so much? Deep down, Mark knows that it’s not that simple, but he wants to be done with this, and for his brother to end this conversation with a warning and never mention it again. Mark will say it all: that he knows it’s foolish, and that he knows he’s immature, and that his brother doesn’t have to worry because he’ll grow out of it. Then he’ll wait for the day to end and run to Donghyuck’s doorstep again.

“Okay.” Yijin nods, “You know I’m not—” He stares at Mark with a meaningful look, “I’m not telling, nor am I lecturing you for this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Mark nods, but it’s weak. He did know he wouldn’t be punished like a kid, or hit like he was doing something wrong, but it was still difficult to predict any reaction beyond that when he was so nervous. In hindsight, it makes sense: his brother has traveled from country to country, worldview expanded so beyond what Mark has seen in his lifetime, and so Mark wouldn’t doubt his words, he wouldn’t doubt that he’s learned to be even more understanding than he can possibly imagine.

“I thought that’d be obvious. And maybe I thought we were closer than we really are, because I didn’t think you’d be this scared of me.” Yijin smiles minimally, “But maybe the distance makes it difficult. I’m not proud of that.”

Mark shakes his head, “It’s just that I know that it’s a lot, and I wouldn’t ask you to understand.” He licks his lips, “I’m just scared in general, I guess. Less so nowadays, but still.”

“I’m sorry.” Yijin tells him honestly, staring at his hands, “I’m sorry that you dealt with this alone.”

Mark scrunches up his face, relief flooding his body like it’s just hitting him that his brother is still here, that his brother still loves him, “Don’t blame yourself. I keep to myself a lot, and I wouldn’t have told you even if you still lived here. It’s not your fault.” Mark picks at a thread from his shorts, “And I wasn’t alone the entire time. He—helped.”

Yijin nods carefully, “It’s good that you take care of each other.” He stares down at his cup, and Mark feels emotional at such a simple sentence, “It’s—you know it’s not an easy life, right?”

Mark sighs.

“I say that because I wish nothing ever stood in your way. I want you to be—so happy, but maybe that will be tough work.”

Mark shakes his head so his eyes don’t fill with tears, “I don’t like—I don’t think of the future like that. I stressed myself out a lot in the beginning, and now… I guess now we just live day by day. It’s not as difficult like this.”

“Maybe you should think of it again. Maybe—maybe it’d be good to move, like I have. I know you like it here, but… I think a bigger city might be kinder to you.” Yijin nods to himself, “I’ve met some people who live very good lives, and they get to be who they want to be.”

Mark nods, though it seems unfair. He wishes nothing had to change, “I’ll think about it, I guess.”

Yijin sighs, “Good.”

In this moment, when Mark is present enough to realize how much he’s missed him, how glad he is that he’s here regardless of what happened, he feels like sharing, even if just a little, “I wish I didn’t have to. It makes me angry, that I’m the one who has to leave, or to adapt.”

Yijin agrees, “I guess it isn’t fair.” He smiles at Mark, “But you’re very brave. That’s never been an issue for you.”

Mark scoffs, “That’s not true.” Mark is a coward.

“It is. You’ve never cared to impress, or to put up a front like teenagers do, or to do anything you truly disagreed with.” He shakes his head, smiling and pointing to the stairs that lead to Mark’s room, “Do you think I could have done that when I was your age? In the same house where dad lives?”

“This isn’t about being brave. I’m just selfish, I guess.” Mark scratches his nape, “And as a teen I was just angry, but my anger never made a difference. It never does.”

“It’s not selfish to want to be happy. And your anger is not useless, I think that’s where you’re wrong. I think you should use this feeling to move you forward instead of thinking that it makes you a bad person, instead of moving it inwards.” Yijin insists, “If it makes you angry, then you should get to show how angry you are, you should get to fight back. It’s a strength you have, and you can use it to build the life you want for yourself.”

“It’s only ever been bad for me.”

“It’s made you who you are, and that’s never a bad thing.”

Donghyuck won’t pick up Mark’s calls, and he’s not home when Mark knocks on his door. Mark cycles over to Donghyuck’s neighborhood to check and ends up coming back home by foot; bicycle by his side, head turning whenever anyone walks by, just in case it’s him. It’s frustrating, and Mark will certainly tell him off when they see each other again, because why would he worry Mark like that, why would he not let him take care of things and then take care of him? They’re supposed to be together in this; it’s infuriating that Donghyuck went home alone in that state, that he spent the day God knows where, that he’ll make Mark go to sleep without knowing.

01: C A N  Y O U  T E L L  M E  I F  Y O U ‘ R E  O K A Y ?

The next day offers a last resort, which is Donghyuck’s workplace. Mark leaves his uncle’s store early and waits behind the building Donghyuck must be in, near the back entrance he might go through any moment now, because if he’s stressed he’ll pick up cigarettes again, and then he’ll have to take breaks like he used to—Mark knows this, Mark knows him.

Still Donghyuck looks surprised to see him when he closes the door behind him, still his expression is confusing and leaves Mark on edge; he knows him, he does, but he can’t tell what he’s thinking now.

“Donghyuck.” Mark sighs, approaching him, “Why couldn’t you answer me? I just wanted to know if you’re okay.” He studies his face thoroughly, “Are you?”

He looks tired, his eyes small like they are when he sleeps late, his mouth curled like he’s unhappy about something. Mark frowns, wishing he could reach out and cup his face, undo Donghyuck’s own frown.

“Yeah.” Donghyuck nods minimally, “I’m okay now. I’m sorry I… freaked out.” He studies Mark’s face himself, “I left you alone. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Mark says, though it wasn’t, “It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t bad at all, I guess.”

“Did…” Donghyuck points with his head, “With your brother…”

“Yeah. We talked. He’s not the type of person to mind that kind of stuff, and he said he wouldn’t tell anyone, so.” Mark shrugs, but he’s still careful, “Everything is fine, I guess. It was just a little embarrassing.”

“Was he… angry?” Donghyuck asks while making a face.

“No.” Mark shakes his head, “Not at all.”

Donghyuck stares at him, hands fidgeting, “That’s… You’re lucky.” He whispers

“I guess I am, yeah.” Mark agrees, “Still nerve-wracking, though.” Mark smiles minimally, “I was ready to get at least a scolding session for being so careless. I mean, under our family’s roof.”

Donghyuck nods quietly. Mark watches him.

“But it’s okay now.” He reassures Donghyuck, “Right?”

Donghyuck stares at him, and it makes Mark furrow his brow slightly.

“Donghyuck?”

“Should we keep doing this?” He says all of a sudden, or maybe it’s sudden for Mark, who felt so encouraged after the talk with his brother, who felt for the first time that maybe his future didn’t have to be so bland. What does Donghyuck mean?

“Should we…” Mark frowns, “I mean—I thought everything was alright. There’s no reason to stop. We shouldn’t stop, I think.” Mark nods to himself, taking a second to look around them before continuing, “I like to do this with you.” He confesses and feels his cheeks get warm.

He waits for Donghyuck to say he does, too, but he doesn’t say anything like that, “But is it a good idea?”

“I… I don’t know what you mean.” Mark says honestly, “I mean, you know how it is, we have to be careful, but…” Mark lifts a shoulder, “I don’t mind that. I don’t mind that it’s just for us. It’s—still good for me.”

“But… If it hadn’t been your brother, and if it had been someone else…” Donghyuck exhales shakily, “Have you… thought of what that would be like? Because if it happened, we’d have to…” He swallows, “We’d have to deal with the consequences. It wouldn’t be good.”

Mark laughs, but it’s not very humorous, “Yeah, I’ve thought of everything, honestly. I know it could be difficult.” He wishes they could have this conversation anywhere else, “I guess I haven’t—I don’t know exactly what I’d do, but…”

“Do you think maybe I shouldn’t go over as often anymore?” Donghyuck asks like he’s confessing something, “To your house?”

“Oh.” Mark frowns again, “I don’t know. Are you… scared? Because my parents really won’t find out. If you want, then you can talk to my brother, too, and you’ll see, he’s… he’s chill, maybe he’ll reassure you better than I can.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just… It could happen again. But this time,” Donghyuck shakes his head, “I don’t know. Isn’t it too dangerous? What are we doing?”

Mark stares at him, face blank. What are they doing? Well… Mark isn’t sure either. The simple answer is they’re having fun, but this description has belittled the true extent of what Mark feels nowadays, though he doesn’t know Donghyuck’s opinion—it could very well be just that. They’re also taking risks, but they agreed to do so. They agreed not to care about anything else, to act on their wants, their desires, and forget everything else. It’s not a foolproof plan, but it’s what has made sense for them.

But Donghyuck seems too unsure, so maybe it’s a plan even more flawed than Mark thought it was. Donghyuck, the one to always ground Mark, the one who always knows just what to do, just what to say. Mark frowns.

“I don’t know.” Mark tells him honestly.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea.” Donghyuck looks nervous, “Maybe it’s more dangerous than it is—worth it.”

Mark feels like he can hear his heart beat in his ears, or like what he had for lunch will come up again, “Is that what you think?” He whispers.

Donghyuck averts his eyes.

“Donghyuck.” Mark stares at him, brow furrowed, “Is that what you think?”

Donghyuck nods, but it’s so small that Mark feels like Donghyuck lied earlier, that he isn’t okay at all.

“What happened? If—you’re still nervous about yesterday, then we can talk more. And I can try…” Mark shakes his head, lost for words, “I don’t know. I can try to help.”

Donghyuck scrunches up his face, “I just can’t ignore this—part of it anymore. Yesterday, it could’ve been… really bad for you.” He insists.

“But… it wasn’t.” Mark feels so confused, “I thought we agreed, I thought—” Mark shakes his head, “It’s scary, we agree on that, but is it ever not worth it?” His eyes scan Donghyuck’s face, “It’s not… to you?”

“I just want to do the right thing.” Donghyuck tells him, “I don’t want to get in your way. If we keep doing this, then we’ll always have to think about what could go wrong, we’ll always have to worry. It’ll be this… weight in your life. I’ll hold you back.” At least Donghyuck is looking at him now, “You know what I mean, right?”

Mark lowers his head and stares at his shoes, lips parted, thinking over the words in his head. Last week Donghyuck told him he wished they never had to spend time apart.

“I just don’t want to make your life difficult. It was meant to be fun, wasn’t it?” Donghyuck tries, “Now someone from your family—... Mark, I can’t do this to you.”

Mark shakes his head unbelievingly, “Did… Did I do something wrong?” Donghyuck denies it instantly, “I don’t understand what changed. We already knew that this could have consequences, that other people wouldn’t understand. But this time—this time my brother did, this time it was okay, and we’re okay, so why are you doing this?”

“I lied, I guess.” Donghyuck presses his lips together, “Maybe I’m good at pretending I don’t care about anything most of the time, but this scared me, and—I don’t know. I just don’t think I can do it anymore.”

Mark stares at him, throat closed, “Is that what you want? To end things?”

“I want you to be safe.” Donghyuck lowers his head, “And it’s not like we were—dating, or something. I can’t justify risking so much over a night or two we get to spend together. You shouldn’t, either.”

Mark swallows dryly, averting his eyes and laughing lightly, because this—this hurt him deeply, “Oh, wow.”

“I’m sorry.” Donghyuck tells him, and at least he sounds honest, “I don’t want you to hate me, either.”

He’s so upset that he could try to pretend that’s what he’s feeling, he could lash out and say hurtful things just so he can punish Donghyuck, but he doesn’t. He stares at him and shakes his head, “I could never hate you.”

Donghyuck lowers his head again.

“Just know that the things you’re worried about… I’ll live and worry about them for the rest of my life.” Mark shakes his head, “You were the one who told me I shouldn’t lie to myself—and I won’t. I can’t do it anymore. I wish you didn’t either.” He shrugs sadly, “I’m sorry that you think it’s such a terrible way to live, but this is it for me.”

“But right now, while we live with our parents and while we’re here—”

“Yeah, maybe it’s more dangerous now. Maybe one day things will be easier.” Mark nods, “But you’re not willing to stick around and find out, are you?”

Donghyuck frowns, and Mark smiles at him.

“I got that, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t bother looking at Donghyuck one last time before turning to leave, using his fist to wipe his eyes when his face crumples as soon as he’s out of Donghyuck’s sight.