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“Okay, man, I get your point. But if you really think about it, there’s, like, a very small chance you actually saw a UFO.”
“I’m telling you, Mark! What else would have blinking green lights? I swear I heard beeping too!” Mark couldn’t see Donghyuck up on the top bunk, but from the sound of his voice, he figured a pout was undoubtedly glued on his face, and he chuckled quietly into his blankets at the thought.
“Mark, it’s not funny! You would’ve freaked out if you had been there,” Donghyuck retorted at Mark’s skepticism, rolling over in frustration and fatigue.
This is how most nights went in their room — never silent, never boring, and quite frequently the cause of anger from their hyungs. It wasn’t rare that a frazzled Yuta would barge in unannounced, exclaiming a string of expletives that put Donghyuck and Mark straight to sleep and kept them silent till morning. Some nights, they wouldn’t talk much and instead the air would be filled with the sound of them singing along to their favorite songs (which would occasionally cause some “Skip this song, it sucks!” “Nah, dude, I just endured ten Michael Jackson songs in a row for you.” “MJ is a legend, Mark. You don’t just endure his songs, you experience them!”). Other nights, they were no longer idols but philosophers who understood all the intricacies of life and the human mind, which would always be stopped by Donghyuck complaining that the subject was too deep and he needed to sleep before his brain started to hurt.
Some nights, they would bicker until all their energy had been consumed, and tonight fell into that category. Those nights were playful — of course they were Donghyuck’s favorite. Mark would never admit it, but those nights were his favorite too, despite the fact that he never failed to mask his enjoyment with a façade of annoyance. Without seeing Donghyuck’s face, he could always hear the amusement in his voice and imagine the way his brown eyes would twinkle (because the impish Gemini found a thrill in any chance he got to tease a hyung, especially his Mark hyung).
What Mark liked the most was the fact that, with no one else around, he felt a new sense of freedom. When they were alone in their own room, they were the same old Mark and Donghyuck as always, but the slight boundaries that lingered between them were sometimes tested, even just a little bit. Of course there was always a risk of Yuta barging in or Taeil screaming “shut the hell up, please” from the other side of the wall, but no one could really hear what they would say to each other, and no one really cared to hear regardless.
Mark was always scared to show the fact that he felt something a little — or a lot — less than platonic for his best friend in the entire world, but when they were in their own private space, he could push his limits. Sometimes, as he stared up at the bottom of Donghyuck’s bunk, he could gather the courage to say things that caused his own face to flush, even just little comments about how much he loved his younger counterpart’s voice or how good he had done during that evening’s practice. Even though he could hear Jeno, his one and only confidant about his feelings for Donghyuck, in his mind saying, “That’s not flirting, that’s Mark Lee flirting. Big difference, bud,” he still felt his heart flutter a little bit every time. He felt, undoubtedly, that his crush was entirely one-sided and completely unrealistic, but those tiny Mark Lee leaps of faith gave him a thrill.
A few minutes passed since Donghyuck had said a word about his supposed UFO sighting, and, snapping out of his thoughts, Mark suddenly heard a soft, steady snore coming from above him. This was a sound that could only be heard when Donghyuck was especially exhausted, and in typical peculiar Mark fashion, he loved the sound of his snoring. In some strange way, it brought him a feeling of contentment, and he smiled, feeling corny for it but not being able to subdue his affection, no matter how hard he tried.
He waited a few minutes, just to be sure Donghyuck was definitely asleep, and then he did what he always did.
“Good night, sweet dreams, Lee Donghyuck. Even your snores are cute, which is gross.” He paused, thought about his words (despite the fact that his only audience was himself), and then went on. “Not gross that you snore, but gross that you, of all people, make me this mushy. What the hell… Good night.”
He said things he wished he could say straight to the other’s face, and he fell asleep thinking of stars and aliens and the boy who lay just a few feet above him.
—
Donghyuck never had crushes, or at least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t have the time, he didn’t have the attention span, and quite frankly, what in the world would a guy like him need a love interest for? That was the reasoning that always played within his head. Donghyuck would wonder, though, why he dreamt of Mark at night. He would wonder why the slightest touch of Mark’s skin on his own would make his face burn a bright shade of red and why the sound of Mark saying his name made his heart swell in ways he had never experienced before.
The thought of having a crush exhausted him, and he would lay in bed at night willing away the idea of a crush like it was some sort of fatal disease. On this particular night, as he waited for Mark to come in their room and get in his own bed, Donghyuck pondered why the mere sight of his best friend would sometimes give him goosebumps. Am I sick in the head?, he questioned. He couldn’t wrap his mind around his feelings, and that wasn’t his fault. Donghyuck had never felt the way Mark made him feel.
He grabbed his phone, opened Safari, and typed the word “crush” into the search bar. His phone relayed this definition back to him: “a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable or inappropriate.” With finality, he released a deep sigh. Donghyuck’s feelings mirrored every single one of those words, but he could not move past “brief.”
Nothing about his feelings for Mark Lee were brief, and if four years of feeling this way was considered brief, Donghyuck decided he never wanted to experience anything beyond “brief” in his entire life.
At that thought, Mark walked into their room with a smile, clad in shorts and a T-shirt, both of which were both way too baggy on his tiny frame, hair damp from his shower and sticking slightly to his forehead. Mark started babbling on about some stupid joke Jisung had told him and how “we really need to get that kid to stop acting like an old man.” Mark chuckled to himself, and Donghyuck cursed himself for being endeared by every single word that left his mouth. He turned off their lights, and Donghyuck could hear him slipping into bed quietly, idly wishing his hyung would climb up the short ladder to his bed and fall asleep with him in his arms.
Donghyuck knew he couldn’t have consistently felt this way for four years. He hadn’t spent his whole time as a trainee wishing to — he cringed at himself — kiss Mark and hold Mark and spend every moment of his life with Mark. Donghyuck’s heart had started pounding the moment he met the Canadian boy on his first day in Korea, but at the time, he didn’t really understand those feelings. Things had definitely intensified since then. Maybe it was the hormones, that’s what the rational part of his brain said. Maybe it was the fact that he really adored Mark and couldn’t try to contain it anymore, that’s what the yearning, romantic part of his brain said. Either way, it was simultaneously completely terrifying and absolutely blissful.
“Why are you being so quiet, man? Are you sick?” Mark joked, breaking the silence.
I think I must be, Donghyuck thought to himself. That was the only explanation in his mind which could possibly rationalize feeling this way about Mark Lee.
He didn’t reply. He didn’t have the answers to either of those questions, and if he had the answers, he wouldn’t have said them regardless. Tonight, there was an absence of music or philosophy or bickering, and while it was slightly unsettling, Donghyuck just didn’t have the energy to cover up how he felt with jokes or stupid remarks. Not in this moment anyway. So for once in his life, Donghyuck stayed silent. He stared at the wall, wishing for a world where he couldn’t hear Sicheng playing games in the other room, where he couldn’t hear Johnny singing off pitch in the shower, where Mark wasn’t directly below him waiting for some sort of response — a world where he felt complete peace. He had never craved utter silence this badly, never craved to be swallowed into the void until now. He thought to himself how shitty teenage angst was, half amused, half pissed off.
Minutes passed, and suddenly, to his surprise, Mark spoke again.
“I guess you’re asleep,” he started. “It kinda… scares me? Yeah. It scares me when you’re quiet.”
Donghyuck’s heart pounded in his chest, and he felt like he was about to hear something that he shouldn’t, like he was listening in on a confession.
“I’m supposed to be the one who never knows what to say, not you. That’s why I’ve never told you…,” Mark trailed off.
Donghyuck wanted to yell at him, jump out of his bed and grab him, drag the words out of him, but he was frozen. By fear? He couldn’t be sure, but Mark thought he was asleep anyway. Time felt slower, and he felt too warm despite the cool air. His skin burned from the tension, like his blood was bubbling inside of him. For a fleeting moment, he felt guilty for the fact that he had unintentionally scammed his best friend into revealing something he probably wouldn't in any other circumstance, but his heart yearned to know the rest of that thought, a part of Donghyuck wishing that maybe Mark felt even a trace of what he did.
“Ugh, forget it. Good night, Lee Donghyuck.”
Donghyuck didn't sleep much that night.
—
The next morning was a sunny one, but everything in Donghyuck’s head felt cloudy and hazy. He didn’t function well without enough sleep, and he didn’t function well when all he could think about was Mark; today, both of those cards were stacked against him. It was much too early for Donghyuck’s liking, but he knew his restless mind wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, and with a groan he trudged out of their room and into the kitchen.
“Someone’s up early,” Johnny said, looking up from whatever he was doing on his phone with a smile.
Of course he’s up right now, Donghyuck thought. He was rarely alone with Johnny, and he wished that, of all the people he lived with, he didn’t have to be alone with the most chipper morning person he’d ever met.
“It’s too early,” he groaned back at him, pouring himself a bowl of the most sugary cereal in the cabinet.
“Kid, it’s really time that you start drinking coffee,” Johnny laughed. He began pouring him a cup, and somehow — despite the fact that Donghyuck hated coffee — it felt like a meaningful gesture, something more than a cup of coffee. He looked at Johnny incredulously.
Johnny knew Donghyuck hated coffee, but Johnny also knew that Donghyuck doesn’t simply wake up early when they have no schedule. He put enough cream and sugar in the cup to turn the coffee nearly white — the only way he knew Donghyuck would drink it without spitting it straight back out — and handed it over.
“You know, we’re not really brothers, but I’ve known you long enough to have an older brother instinct. Why the hell are you up right now?” Johnny asked.
“Hyungggg,” Donghyuck whined, mouth full of cereal. “I knew that cup of coffee had a hidden agenda.”
“Listen, kid. Don’t be a hard ass. Tell Papa Johnny what’s wrong.” Donghyuck wanted to hit him. Johnny had a way of making you want to physically attack him while still charming whatever he wanted out of you. It was quite possibly the best and worst thing about him.
“Papa Johnny is about to get a cup of agenda coffee to the face,” Donghyuck threatened.
The older one chuckled, unfazed, and the moment his mouth turned up at the corners with a mischievous smirk, Donghyuck knew it was game over. “Maybe you can’t sleep because of your lover boy,” Johnny said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Mark Lee. You know him, right?” he chimed happily.
Donghyuck looked up from his cereal with an expression reminiscent of a doe-eyed Bambi, meeting Johnny’s eyes which had the most wicked glimmer of omniscience. Shit. That was all Donghyuck could think. Shit, shit, shit.
He didn’t know whether to run, to cry, to deny it, to play it off with a joke, or hardest of all, to just fess up. At this point, he figured it didn’t matter because Johnny knew. Of course, out of everyone, he knew. That awkwardness between him and Johnny that usually existed, the uncomfortable searching for anything they both found interest in — Donghyuck wished for that in the place of whatever the hell this was.
Maybe if it wasn’t for the current state of Donghyuck’s mind, the lack of sleep, the strange things Mark had said last night, the way he felt like he would burst if he didn’t tell someone, anyone, about his problems — maybe then he would’ve cracked a joke and effectively told Johnny to fuck off. But that wasn’t the case.
“Johnny, what the hell do I do? What the hell happens when you like your best friend? Like… really like your best friend?” he whined, covering his face with his palms. “And last night, I heard him saying this stuff, and… And I don’t understand. I don’t know what to make of it. And how the hell did you know? Am I that obvious? Oh, God. I can’t be that obvious, right? Right?”
Johnny started laughing again. “Oh, I’m just so glad you find my state of panic entertaining. That’s the last time I wake up at real Johnny hours. Asshole,” Donghyuck sulked.
“No, no, no. Listen, little man.” Donghyuck groaned. Little man. How annoying. “I’m sure it’s not obvious to Mark. Mark’s… He’s smart but he doesn’t pick up on shit like that,” Johnny said. “But it’s pretty much clear as day to the rest of the world.”
Donghyuck looked at him across the table, expectant of something more, something that would actually help him rather than just tantalize him. Johnny wasn’t the first person he would put on his list of people to ask for advice, but Donghyuck didn’t like to ask for help, and by some sort of will of God, Johnny was the first person to see that he could really use it right now.
“Man, you’re just wasting time. Tell him you like him,” Johnny went on. “And you’re more of an idiot than I originally thought if you think he doesn’t feel the same way.”
Johnny got up with a smile (which Donghyuck found utterly infuriating), ruffled the younger boy’s hair, and walked off towards his room.
“Oh, and one more thing. No more interrupting my morning coffee,” Johnny said. Duly noted, Donghyuck thought with a grimace. And then he was left with too sweet coffee, too sweet cereal, and the too bitter thought of how in the world he would ever follow Johnny’s advice.
—
“Oh, man, Jeno, what the hell?” Mark squeaked. He was laying on Jeno’s bed face down, bleach blonde hair in a state of more disarray than usual. “You are seriously no help. None!”
Jeno stood next to the bed, looking down at his hyung who, just like his hair, was in a state of more disarray than usual. “Mark. You know I’ve literally had one girlfriend, right? We lasted a week,” he said with a laugh, crescent moon eye-smile in full effect. “Why couldn’t you ask Dongyoung or Taeil or someone?”
At that, Mark just about lost it, propping himself up on his elbows and looking straight at Jeno. “Dongyoung? Taeil? Who do you plan on suggesting next? Johnny?”
In response, all he got was a shrug and a smile, which held absolutely no answer. Mark went on. “You’re the only one who knows… Come on. I… I just wanna figure it out. Do I tell him?” At even the mention of telling Donghyuck how he felt, Mark returned to his previous state, face down and wishing he could somehow be eaten up by a black hole. “I’m sick of hiding it!” he said, voice muffled by the pillow. “I’m a terrible liar, you know that. I’m like a friggin’ open book.”
Jeno sat down next to him on the bed, gingerly placing a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Listen, dude. Stop freaking out. Look at me.”
Hesitantly, Mark turned over, brows furrowed and eyes searching for some direction, some suggestion that could guide him just a little bit. Much to his displeasure, all he found was Jeno looking at him with a mixture of both concern and amusement.
“I can’t be, like, 100% sure, alright? But I’m pretty certain Donghyuck has to be into you. At least a little bit, right?” Jeno said, attempting to convey positivity.
Mark’s brows furrowed even more, unconvinced. “I have no clue! Why are you the one asking me?” He was exasperated, but at the same time, he knew it wasn’t Jeno’s fault. He’s right, I should’ve asked one of the hyungs, Mark thought with a frown.
“No. Okay, wait,” Jeno replied. This time, he went on with more certainty. “Mark, you and Donghyuck have been inseparable for four years, right?” He looked at Mark expectantly, receiving a small, unsure nod in return.
“Then even if he doesn’t like you back…” Jeno calculated the circumstances in his mind, but as a look of horror filled Mark’s face, he changed his tune. “Which definitely probably isn’t the case! I’m just saying…”
Mark sighed deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh, just go on.”
Slowly, Jeno continued. “Even if he doesn’t like you back — which is, of course, a very unlikely possibility — he would never leave your side. It’s not like he’d magically cut you out of his life, not when you mean so much to him,” he said, eyes and mouth simultaneously curving up into a comforting smile. “I’m pretty sure he’s incapable of being without you for more than 20 minutes anyway.”
Mark took a second to think about it rationally. Even though it made his stomach turn to even imagine confessing to Donghyuck, he figured Jeno was right. Still, it was scary. It wasn’t like in third grade when he gave a Valentine to his one-week-long crush. It wasn’t like when he was thirteen, and he asked the cutest girl in his class to slow dance with him (she’d accepted — it was sufficiently awkward as Mark wasn’t expecting her to actually say yes, and he was sweaty throughout the whole song. That, and he somehow couldn’t slow dance to save his life). This wasn’t something that would pass, this wasn’t something that he could get over. This was Lee Donghyuck.
Sensing the stress in Mark’s eyes, Jeno started speaking again, softly this time. “Mark, listen, because I’ll only say this corny stuff once,” he said jovially, his smirk lightening the mood in the room. “You’re the nicest guy I know. You work your ass off, and you care for everyone. Donghyuck would be lucky to have a guy like you,” Jeno stopped when he saw Mark’s face going red — not a difficult task to accomplish, but still, not exactly his desired reaction. “And no, I’m not flirting with you, asshole.”
For the first time that day, Mark’s face lit up with a smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing. “Jeno Leeeee,” he said melodically. “I can always count on you. Thanks, man.”
It was decided. As much as Mark dreaded it and even despised it, he was going to tell Donghyuck one way or another. And in some sense, he always knew that had been the plan. When he would think about his future, it would hold visions of him and the boy he liked — maybe even loved — and to get to that point, Mark always knew he would have to confess. But it felt like part of some distant future, not a future that he would ever actually reach. Now, he had hit the point where his biggest fear was in sight, like some sort of meteor getting closer and closer to his atmosphere, and turning away from it was even worse than facing it. If anything, it would be more detrimental to ignore it; if Mark missed his chance, he didn’t want to think about the state of his heart in the aftermath.
He knew it would happen soon. He didn’t know how he would say it or when he would say it or if he would be able to do it without fainting, but Mark knew it was no longer part of the unattainable future. Somehow, someway, he was going to confess to Donghyuck.
—
With each day that passed, the weight on Mark’s shoulders started to feel heavier, harder to ignore. Every smile he exchanged with Donghyuck, every word, every playful touch, stung him. Mark had always been the type of person who worried about anything and everything, biting his nails till his fingers bled and causing his own stomachaches, and the burden he felt because of this situation nauseated him.
As he lay in bed, eyes squeezed shut, he could hear Yuta’s words from earlier that day replaying in his head — “Mark, I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but if you don’t fix it, you’re not gonna have any fingernails left.” If you don’t fix it.
At that thought, he was interrupted by a sweet voice breaking through the silence of the room. “Hi, Mark hyung,” Donghyuck chimed, closing the door behind him. He gave Mark a tiny smile that sent his heart into a panic and his thoughts into a frazzled mess.
“Hey, Hyuck,” he replied quietly. How does he do that? How can he just act like everything is fine and dandy when every time I see him I feel like I can’t breathe? Mark wondered then gave himself his own answer. Because he doesn’t feel that way about you, idiot.
As Donghyuck turned off their lights and climbed up the ladder to his own bed, he went on and on about some stupid prank he had played on Taeil — or maybe it was Taeyong? Mark could hardly pay attention to what Donghyuck was saying, not because he didn’t care but because the sound of his own thoughts was deafeningly loud, and the sound of his own heart pounding was starting to reach that volume too. Even the air around him felt like a heavy force on him, and the sound of Donghyuck’s voice made him feel dazed.
“Hello, Mark? Mark hyung? Did you get any of that?” the younger boy teased from the top bunk.
Mark took a sharp breath in, trying to collect his thoughts enough to even formulate the slightest bit of conversation. “Yeah! Yeah, sorry. That’s funny,” he said, cringing at how insincere he sounded. I’m an open book. Just like I told Jeno.
He knew Donghyuck would see right through his bullshit. No matter what the current circumstances were, Donghyuck was his best friend, the person who knew him better than anyone else did (other than his own mother). There was no way his terrible acting was going to fly under Donghyuck’s radar.
For a second, the room fell quiet, and Mark held his breath. Part of him wanted Donghyuck to ignore his obvious awkwardness, another part of him wanted Donghyuck to chew him out for it. When a small voice filled the space, he knew he was getting neither of those options.
“Did I do something wrong? You’ve been acting so weird towards me lately.” Donghyuck’s voice cracked a little bit as he spoke. Mark couldn’t see Donghyuck’s face, but he could hear the frown in his words, and it broke his heart. Never before had Mark considered that his cowardice could tamper with emotions other than his own.
This time, Jeno’s voice replayed in Mark’s mind: “he would never leave your side.” It was then that Mark realized, in every version of the universe, in every life ever he lived, he would much rather risk rejection than push away the person he loved — yes, loved — because of his own fear.
Another voice filled his head. His father’s. “Mark, always look your problems straight in the eyes. That’s the first step to fix anything in this world.” Fix it, he thought to himself.
He ripped his blankets off and, with shaking hands, climbed his way up to the top bunk. Somehow, Mark silenced every single worry he had, and as his eyes met Donghyuck’s — filled with confusion, shining from the faint light of the moon outside their window — he exhaled. Mark, always look your problems straight in the eyes.
Donghyuck shot up, and without a single word, it felt like everything had been spoken between the two of them. With a few clumsy movements, Mark was kneeled on the bed next to him, and for the first time, Donghyuck was the one who looked unsure, the one who looked scared, the one who didn’t know what to do.
“Mark…” he managed to squeak. Mark reached his shaking hand out to touch Donghyuck’s cheek, with the utmost tenderness despite his trembling, and the warmth of Donghyuck’s skin beneath his fingertips brought a smirk to his face.
“Donghyuck,” he whispered. “You have done nothing wrong.” Mark grinned at those words, knowing it was probably the only time he would ever say that to him. “And I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner.”
Before he had any time to doubt himself, Mark closed the space between them, and as he placed his lips on Donghyuck’s — softly, gently, without a single fear in the world — even the thunderous pounding of his heart stopped filling his ears. All the anxiety that had clouded his thoughts suddenly disappeared. Donghyuck’s lips were soft against his own, and they tasted of toothpaste. Every inch of Mark’s body buzzed, like an electric current was running through him, and as he felt the other boy begin to smile into the kiss, the feeling intensified. Donghyuck’s hand grabbed Mark’s free hand, the one that wasn’t on his face, intertwining their fingers lazily, and Mark felt as though his heart would burst out of his chest from feeling too much, too fiercely.
When Mark finally pulled away from the tender kiss, he watched as Donghyuck’s eyes fluttered open, his eyelashes reminding him of a butterfly’s wings. He dropped his hand from Donghyuck’s cheek, and the younger one responded by squeezing his other hand tighter, a sly smile creeping onto his face.
“Did you mean that?” Donghyuck said, trying to stifle a giggle.
Mark let out a chuckle. “Like, did I mean to kiss you? Yeah, that’s kinda what I came up here for.”
Donghyuck looked down shyly, blushing, glancing at their intertwined fingers as Mark began to rub his thumb along Donghyuck’s. “Yeah,” the blonde boy repeated. “I meant it. I like you, Donghyuck.”
“Well, of course you like me.” He looked up with a grin.
Mark rolled his eyes. “I really, really like you, Lee Donghyuck.”
At those words, Donghyuck’s expression became serious. “No take-backs.”
“I confessed to you after four years, and all you have to say is ‘no take-backs’? That’s cold, dude,” Mark said, feigning hurt before bursting out in laughter.
“Four whole years, huh?” Donghyuck’s eyes glimmered in adoration.
This time, it was Mark’s turn to blush. “Four whole years,” he murmured.
With a soft smile, Donghyuck said seven words that made Mark’s whole entire being feel like mush. “Then I guess that makes us even.”