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Even if everything changes, what’s left at the end of my world is you.
— Graduation, NCT Dream
Orange settles around the cooling mist. The sun settles its warmth atop the horizon, towards the hills their feet rest upon.
It’s cold. Freezing, actually. The wind creeps up against the damp grass, crawling into the crevices of Mark’s heart. He can’t tell where the beating ends, or where it begins.
The metal stings against his forearms, where they rest upon the railings. It feels as if its nothing, though, as his eyes trace the paths across the hills and mountains, the dots of green and yellow distracting him from it all.
Still, a weight crashes into the empty space in his lungs. It squeezes him, the altitude of his senses higher than the position of their hearts. He can feel everything.
The burden slithers its way around Mark’s being, desperately trying to escape the tight grip of his fist. The fist that crashed into the dilemma brought against all odds.
Himself? Or the history they thought they’d have forever to write?
The air stays stuck in his throat. His tears fall in the shape of guilt.
He bows his head, unable to face the vastness of the universe. The uncertainty he chose over the security of staying.
“Hyung?” A whisper falls into Mark’s focus.
The tears won’t stop. They fall and fall, remnants of the weight that falls over his shoulders. It stops at nothing to make Mark truly feel the heaviness of his heart.
A presence stands beside him, arms leaning against the railings. He catches the way the figure flinches at the cold before pushing through it, resting his weight against his arms.
Jeno doesn’t say anything. His eyes dart from hill to hill, taking in the view as how it should be done. With wide eyes and a steady beat. Not with tears and a crumbling heart.
Mark doesn’t know what it is. Shame? Embarrassment? Jeno’s presence has always been quiet, yet so… there. Maybe the guilt is doubling back on itself, unready to face the subject of its antics.
Either way, his mind wills himself to stop crying. To breathe a full breath, and to fill in his lungs with something other than hurt.
“Embarrassing, isn’t it?” Mark starts, voice laced with tears that refuse to dry up. “I’m here crying out in a corner when I’m supposed to be spending whatever time I have left with you guys.” He sniffles. “I’m a fucking coward.”
Mark bows his head down once more, unable to look Jeno in the eye.
The rest of the members don’t know it yet. The decision was made about a week ago, and the knowledge that he’s keeping it from his members is slowly killing him inside. Their manager advised him to tell someone he trusts, to share the pain with someone, to keep the bleeding at bay.
There really was nobody else.
Jeno may not always be the one to seek for emotional comfort, but he is the one to seek for stability. As final as Mark’s decision is, he just can’t rest at the idea of abandoning his life’s work. His heart stumbles about, skipping through shaking ground. There was nobody who could keep him still.
Until, Jeno pulled him out of it. He stabilized him, pulled him out of the epicenter to place him where he could see better, to where he could stand upright.
Mark finds that there’s no one else who could do that for him.
Jeno turns his head behind them, gazing at something. His eyes glimmer in what seems like something too soft before he speaks.
“Look at them.”
Mark breathes in, slowly, quietly. He wipes away the stray drops on his cheeks. He turns behind him.
Beyond the secluded corner of the railings, lay in place, a playground. It’s old, rusted, and moist. It’s full of love, hope, and mist.
Jisung sits on the edge of the slide, Chenle right behind him. The slide could barely fit two children, let alone two full-grown adults. Still, they laugh amongst themselves, Renjun resting on the side with a gentle smile.
Jaemin’s sitting atop the monkey bars, watching Haechan’s lame attempt at crawling on the bars on all fours, upside down. Jaemin’s yelling at Haechan like a personal trainer, and Haechan’s spitting out curses at him like a rude tarsier.
The scene was blinding. Everything was glowing in its own way. The sun was so near, that each strand of their hair seemed like it was dripping of the sun’s blaze. Wind tangles itself into Mark’s hair, and he feels as if this moment could last evermore.
His throat threatens to close in on itself once more.
“We needed you. Obviously, we did.” Jeno started, soft voice turned firm. “We were lost and hurt because you were taken away from us. But you came back. And you gave us what we needed to keep going.”
Mark can barely keep his eyes off the members and their smiles. Their warmth and the lingering of their beating hearts, leaving its mark on Mark’s own soul.
His eyes finally land on Jeno’s. The younger boy’s lips are pursed into a line, mentally arranging the words in his head. Mark tries not to surge forward and kiss him on the lips.
“You know that I’ve never been the best to give comforting advice. I barely know what I’m doing. But I’m trying, like I always do with you. And I’ll try even harder for the rest of the members, just like you did for us. Because this is what you taught me, hyung. Being with you taught me how to be someone for others. How to love with no regrets.”
Jeno’s hand reaches for Mark’s, a silent declaration of his presence. Mark tries to will himself to suck his tears up.
“You gave us everything we needed to survive. You gave us enough love to last a lifetime.” Jeno gazed into Mark’s eyes, making sure each and every one of his words were annunciated with conviction.
“You’ve done enough for us, hyung. We’ll do the rest.”
Mark doesn’t realize it, but his lungs loosen up, hands pausing its shaking. The world is clearer, and the lights are brighter than ever. Mark lets out a breath. One that he’s held since he left that meeting room that grueling day.
Mark places a hand on Jeno’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Jeno’s used to it, the suddenness of some of Mark’s shows of affection. The unpredictability of his predictably overwhelming love. He kisses him back.
Jeno’s hand rests against Mark’s waist, while the other rests against his cheek. Their lips keep chasing one another’s, before they rest their foreheads against each other’s. The wind picks up, hair getting into their eyes.
Mark can’t really find the right words to say. Gratitude and love take over the suffocating weight over Mark’s being.
“Since when have you sounded so mature?” He settles on these words. Jeno smiles.
“I’m twenty-five years old, hyung. It’d be quite concerning if I wasn’t mature yet.” Jeno replies, and Mark laughs, unable to hold back the warmth growing in his chest. He kisses Jeno once more.
“Excuse me, the manager said PDA is strictly prohibited and requested for you to leave the restaurant grounds.” As usual, Jaemin pops up out of nowhere, making sure to disrupt whatever it is Jeno and Mark have going on. His hands are clasped in front of his chest, reminiscent of an employee that loves to suck up to his manager.
Mark and Jeno only laugh, grateful to see one of the members’ smiles up close.
Behind Jaemin, Renjun shows up and swats his arm, mumbling about his immaturity and of Jaemin being a nuisance from hell.
“They said our order’s ready. They’ve gone inside already. Let’s eat?” Renjun’s voice is soft, sensitive of the intimate moment between the two. Mark smiles appreciatively at the gesture.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” Mark responds, and brings Jeno along with him, hands hesitant to let go. So, he doesn’t. He holds his hand until the end.
It isn’t easy. The whole situation was never easy. From making the decision, to breaking the news. Words were spit out and tears were shed. And, yet. The members never let go of his hand.
They’re back to where they were in the past. A cycle that brings them back to where they started, back to Mark’s absence. But this is the last of that cycle. A spin in the history of NCT Dream, one that sparks a new beginning.
Although the future is bright, there’s no telling where Mark’s heart goes. What he knows for sure, is that his heart will always have space for them.
The sun’s orange fades into blue, its hues resting for what’s ahead. It calls for the moon to prepare, to bring in its own spotlight.
It calls for the moon to rise in its place. But the sun will always be there, lingering.